#lethal interjection crew

[blackynsupremacy]

BEING THUGNIFICENT’S

NERDY GIRLFRIEND

HEADCANONS

pairing: thugnificent/otis jenkins x black!fem!reader

fandom: the boondocks (2005-2014)

summary: thugnificent wouldn’t be the type to easily settle down with anyone, but through your relationship, you shifted his perspective on many things.

contains: based on this request, fluff, comedy, swearing, use of the n-word, romance.

• if one could paint an image of the phrase “opposites attract”, best believe that you and thug would be the inspiration and the vision.

• thug was outgoing, flirtatious, confident, sometimes narcissistic and obnoxious, but he was real when it came it down to it. he had no shame about anything.

• no shame about his upbringing, no shame about his music, and definitely no shame about his personal life.

• he was the typical famous star that had surplus money and women flocking around. it was a fling here and a fling there.

• never a true, committed relationship.

• that all changed when he moved to woodcrest and met you.

• everyone greeted him with open arms—well, almost everyone.

• you were different from the rest of the women he met.

• you were cordial and polite, but a bit reserved. you didn’t really talk to him unless you had to.

• you heard his song “eff grandad” and you found it to be so funny.

• you didn’t throw yourself at thug and that had him piqued.

• he tried to get to know you by inviting you to a party at his mansion, but you suggested a different place. it wasn’t his style for a woman to tell him what to do.

• instead, you invited him to your favorite arcade and pizza spot across town.

• it was lowkey, so that no paparazzi would flash him.

• when it comes to any type of video games, you were competitive.

• “ahh, shit! you tryna make sure a nigga lose, huh? i got something for yo’ ass.” he’d tease as you competed in mortal kombat, maneuvering the controls to unleash an impressive power move.

• “hell, yeah! watch this.”

• you get your lick back when you pull a fatality on that man.

• he was shocked!

• you were talking all kinds of shit—which he found to be sexy. he thought you were just this shy homebody, but there’s a bad ass bitch in there.

• at that moment, thug had to lock you down.

• one time you were helping him out with his hair and you wanted to watch inuyasha while you did so.

• thug tried to ask questions, but you shushed him, so you could focus.

• he didn’t really understand it, so he just watched and it all clicked.

• “hold up, hold up! you tryna tell me that dog ass nigga is really a playa’? this man really wanted an alive and dead bitch. that’s some freaky shit. i respect it though—ow!”

• you thwacked his face with a comb at that statement.

• you introduced him to naruto.

• “so if that little blonde nigga become the hokage? is he gonna get all the hoes in his village?”

• dragon ball z is definitely his favorite. it’s a staple for him.

• he also likes sailor moon, but he sure as hell won’t tell you that.

• sometimes, you both binge watch, he’d invite the lethal interjection crew over to watch, or he’d do it alone.

• depending on the show, he prefers sub over dub.

• he loves to hear you spew facts and theories. he even has his own.

• sometimes you’d have debates on certain characters. ya’ll once had an argument on who could kick the most ass between superman and batman.

• got him so heated he literally made an unreleased diss track about superman.

• he spoils you with merchandise! if you even mention interest in a character, show, game, or comic, he’s going to buy stuff that’s related to it.

• hell, he even gets stuff for himself.

• he gets jealous when you simp over your fictional crushes.

• it cracks you up because you reassure him there’s no competition, it’s all for fun.

• “thuggie, don’t act like that. stop acting like you weren’t tripping over storm from x-men.”

• you clocked that tea really quick.

• he finds it sexy when you cosplay his fictional crushes.

• “hell yeah, baby! turn around for thugnificent, goddamn!”

• you like to spend quiet time with him by reading a manga or comic.

• it calms him when you guys watch studio ghibli movies.

• your best vacation spots are london, japan, universal studios, and disney world.

• you would randomly quote lines or make references, he’d just go along with it.

• he’d make references in his bars while in the studio.

• you’d be the first to listen and he’d respectfully ask for your feedback only, no one else’s!

• overall, he loves you and digs your overall vibe.

• you’re his nerd and he’s your thug.

[burningrhino]

Have you noticed that The Banana Splits have shown up in two consecutive episodes that weren’t consistent with each other and never again until a season later as a cameo? I like to follow the logic that after the The Splits get on Shag’s good side, they then become anti-heroes and would be in a similar position as the mafia from The Simpsons or The Lethal Interjection Crew from The Boondocks

[couldtheyescortelliewilliams]

Do you want to submit a potential protector for Ellie? Click here if you do!

[anarcho-occultism]

Tracy Jordan

Tracy Jordan (1966-March 17, 2026) was an American actor and musician active from 1978 until his death. Jordan was born in Yankee Stadium and, owing to both the unusual location and the simultaneous focus on the arrival of the world-eater Galactus by most public officials, was not officially issued a birth certificate. Jordan grew up in the Knuckle Beach neighborhood of the Bronx, which was infamous for high crime rates and general dysfunction. The Cult of Quetzalcoatl regularly abducted sacrifice victims from the neighborhood, a fate which Jordan only narrowly avoided on at least two occasions. Owing to his family’s precarious financial situation, Jordan eventually dropped out of high school and relied on sporadic odd jobs such as acting as a busboy at the legally dubious ‘McDowell’s’ restaurant in Long Island. Jordan longed for bigger things, however, being drawn to acting after a chance encounter with actor Charles Hayden Savage while he was filming an episode of Brazzos. Jordan was able to become a cast member on the short-lived show Ray Ray’s Mystery Garage which aired on IBC from 1978 to 1980. Once the show ended, Jordan became a street performer who specialized in basket drumming for cash on the streets of New York City.

Jordan’s ultimate break would not come until 1984. That year, Jordan heard about the Apollo Theater’s Amateur Night and decided to perform stand-up during it. During the performance, Jordan proved popular with the audience which happened to include prominent comedian Jonathan Crunk. Crunk, viewing Jordan as having potential, took him under his wing and was able to get him his first big breakthrough of adulthood by joining the cast of Studio 60 in the 1987-1988 season. Jordan was a cast member on the show for over a decade, during which he played many notable roles. During the Gulf War and Eugenics Wars, Jordan regularly portrayed General Warren Boutwell giving bombastic and at times derailed press conferences and continued to depict him after Boutwell exited the military to start a restaurant. He also participated in many parodies of the children’s show Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood, including an infamous sketch where he portrayed the eponymous Robinson vandalizing the setting of My Friendly Neighborhood to reduce completion. Jordan additionally played a camera operator in Studio 60’s infamous Gordy’s Home sketch, which was never aired after the original airing in 1998. Jordan attracted praise for many of his performances and was able to leverage his new status to advance his career further.

Jordan began his music career in this time, intially mainly recording novelty songs in the vein of the late ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic. However, Jordan soon sought to branch away from this. He joined the Lethal Interjection Crew in 1994 but left two years later after a falling out with its leader Thugnificent. Jordan released several rap singles throughout the 1990’s but was never able to release a full album which thus prevented him from earning full-fledged stardom in the world of music. Jordan also acted in several B-movies during this era, including Cleaver II, Who Dat Ninja, Rescue Bay: The Movie, Hard to Watch, Angels With the Filthiest Souls and The Crows Have Eyes, as well as several episodes of the Night Springs revival. Jordan also dabbled in voice acting, primarily in English dubs of Japanese anime series thanks to connections with Japanese production companies he formed while filming Samurai I Amurai. Jordan notably participated in the English dubs of Tinymon, Pink Dark Boy and Mew Mew Kissie Cutie (a performance which was widely panned and Jordan claims was done ‘to buy a vacation house’). Jordan also got married during this time to Angie Shepherd, though initially he refused to acknowledge the marriage to maintain a playboy public image.

In 1999, Jordan expressed disappointment he was stuck with B-movies and comedies and announced he was quitting in favor of directing, announcing his first project would be a serious. biopic of President Douglass Dilman with he himself in the role of the nation’s first African-American president. However production hit snags quickly. Jordan had not asked the Dilman family for permission to make such a film and a spokesman denounced the idea of Jordan making such a movie. He additionally announced his friend Vincent Chase had been cast as a member of Dilman’s Secret Service detail before Chase committed to the role and the two had a falling out when Chase publicly said he had never signed on to the role. The production ground to a halt when his executive producer (who de facto was a second director) Roman Bridger was killed after becoming yet another in the infamous chain of Ghostface murderers. Despite this, Jordan continued to try to go through with the film, pouring much of his own money to salvage it, but in the end His Accidency would never make it to audiences.

Some have suggested the erratic behavior Jordan began displaying in the 2000’s was a result of frustration his more serious artistic intentions were blocked. It has been suggested Jordan’s infamous 2003 trip to Wadiya and public embrace of the nation’s dictator Haffaz Aladeen was a scheme to try to get money from Aladeen to sustain his movie. During the 2001 dot com recession, Jordan expressed a positive attitude towards the infamous Project Mayhem, drawing widespread criticism. Jordan also, on multiple occasions, assaulted paparazzi with various improvised weapons, including a prop from the original Galaxy Wars that Jordan had purchased for $2 million at a charity auction. These controversies caused significant damage to Jordan’s career and by the mid-2000’s, Jordan was nearly bankrupt and struggled to find work. However, he was able to secure a leading role in the sketch comedy series The Girly Show in 2006, which subsequently was rebranded as TGS With Tracy Jordan and took on a renewed life as a program no longer solely targeting a female audience. Jordan did continue to draw controversy–a PSA where he told African-Americans ‘don’t vote’ aired three times before Jordan requested it be taken off the air–but it did enable a greater deal of stability. Jordan was able to have the financial security to pursue a more stable interest in his hobbies such as American history, a passion he picked up after learning of his descent from Thomas Jefferson and his slave Sally Hemmings. He played a crucial role in funding the team that debunked the claims of the so-called ‘Washingtonians’ clan of cannibals that they were descended from George Washington. During Jordan’s time on TGS also involved recurring feuds with co-star Jenna Maroney, though the two would ultimately leave the show on amicable terms. Jordan’s career arguably peaked in this time period as he ultimately became an EGOT winner after winning all 4 of the entertainment industry’s most prestigious awards.

After the conclusion of the show, Jordan once again developed a controversial reputation. After the Awakening of Magic, Jordan would begin to espouse a number of human supremacist sentiments. He would be temporarily banned from The Circle after calling for killing vampire celebrity Lestat de Lioncourt and the expulsion of Prince Krel of Akiridion from Earth after he criticized Jordan’s comments. Jordan also was temporarily arrested after egging Justin Russo following his election as President of the Magical Congress of the United States in 2015. Jordan would announce a presidential bid on a human supremacist–but otherwise rather left-wing–platform in 2016, though he failed to obtain ballot access and was only able to earn status as a write-in in the states of New York, Illinois and Winnemac. Beyond this political drift, Jordan also was dogged by more mundane celebrity scandals. Jordan got into a physical altercation with pop musician Connor4Real in 2014 that led to him being hospitalized with a broken pinkie. His wife’s reality show Queen of Jordan drew controversy for an episode where the Jordans insisted on continuing a California vacation even in the midst of a kaiju attack which was accused of encouraging dangerous behavior by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. Jordan did begin to calm down after his personal physician, Dr. Leo Spaceman, was arrested for helping manufacture Substance-D and Jordan revealed Spaceman had been giving him some of the said substance while claiming it was vitalizing medicine, a factor helping drive his erratic tendencies.

Citing a desire for more privacy, Jordan would move to Canada in 2019, where he remained through the COVID-19, Kongoli flu and Alvin virus outbreaks. Jordan was thus not in the US when the President’s Day Massacre occurred and installed David Jefferson Adams as President. Jordan denounced the coup attempt and expressed support for the efforts of the Left Eye and other groups to violently resist the far-right takeover of America, causing a rift between him and his old employer Jack Donaghy (who, while opposed to the coup attempt, favored a strategy of nonviolent resistance). Jordan announced another bid for the presidency in 2024 and gained some traction after the Adams-stacked court disqualified Governor Georgina Hobart from consideration. Jordan announced former Republican Senator Alex Keaton as his running mate and was, surprisingly, allowed to run by the Adams regime, though Adams’ allies within the New Founding Fathers movement likely only did so presuming Jordan’s status as a de facto exile and history of erratic behavior would weaken his chances. Jordan would officially received 12% of the popular vote and won a faithless elector from the state of Vermont who defected and voted for Jordan after another elector was arrested for voting for the state’s socialist former Senator Julian Felsenburgh. Jordan would remain in Canada for the rest of his life, as his poor physical health meant that when a resurgence of the Kongoli flu occurred in 2026, it proved to be a fatal infection. Jordan died on the same die as his TGS co-star Maroney, who also died of Kongoli flu in New York City–in an eerie parallel to Jordan’s ancestor Thomas Jefferson and his rival/friend John Adams.

References

30 Rock, Marvel Comics (The Coming of Galactus, ), Q: The Serpent God, Coming to America, Only Murders in the Building, Scrooged, Carter’s Army, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Star Trek, Undercover Brother, Saturday Night Live, My Friendly Neighborhood, Nope, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, The Boondocks, The Sopranos, Baywatch, Home Alone, Schitt’s Creek, Alan Wake, Johnny Test, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Undertale, The Man, Entourage, Scream, The Dictator, Fight Club, iCarly, Masters of Horror, Shadowrun, Interview With The Vampire, 3Below, Wizards of Waverly Place, Harry Potter, Works of Sinclair Lewis, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, Pacific Rim, A Scanner Darkly, The End of October, The Sadness, The Handmaid’s Tale, Shattered Union, Sorry to Bother You, The Politician, Family Ties, The Purge, Lord of the World

[oswednesday]

okay snap a picture of this

these horny posts take place in a spin off series set when the kid twins are 17 going on 18, like space time peta is like what has happened to bill and the fellow life forms is evil they are the last of their species so its established like a time-space lock zoo that gets attached to the mystery shack and if you Know you Know and you can take your higher being family to gawk at them at the fearrarium, i get hired to watch the store/zoo (unbeknownst to me) because i have a an Alarmingly low Affected By Weird meter like the range of like things without minds range and also i have great tits and im good at sales and have a good eye for when stuff is expensive despite being awful at numbers and i have no ties to anything (plot spoiler) perfect employee-housekeeper the twin kids come to visit earlier than planned to do a surprise party for their grunkles returning from their off season travel, they see that the place is like an abandoned mess like wasnt someone hired for this??? and realize i fell into the fearrarium, they look, assuming theyre going to see a gore show and theyre Riiight but its cause im playing russian roulette with the other henchmaniacs, doing the allotment of their daily party drugs (i was lured in, not getting the lock pad but seeing spaces where it was warn and just getting lucky, but its a one way lock without the proper tools so its like oh =_= because i step in and let it close behind me but im completely and utterly sold like i was persecuted by ALL people and im like thats so sad ACAB ) and dipper has promised mabel that they'd do the party first Then work and dipper relents, after being reminded that, they'd tell other people about that later and get the shack ready for their grunkles and their party this of course is focusing in on themes of the original show but making more sense because mabel isnt an elementary school student--like if you dont take responsibility and brush difficult things off with silliness something something morals

anyway all this to say is a formulaic antics are bill and the crew are trying to escape the fearraium like aquarium squids several running gags are: bill tells me to kill the protagonists and im like b,but theyre just kids! and hes like if you kill them all you'll get to do the second line of space coke off of 8ball's head Aaaaand if you get every headshot you can be the henchmaniac of the month and im like oh boy starts blasting (the joke here is that im Always the henchmaniac of the month, any time another character is in the gallery hall of the enclosure the series of framed images are blurred out and make people turn away, go oh god, retch in their mouths a little bit) the second running Gag is that stan and ford add details how much they fucked up hiring me like stan is like oh yeah they were from a mental hospital hiring program i didnt even have to meet minimum wage haha,,,ford like i thought they were a harmless barely sentient idiot (with a great rack, stan interjects and ford starts to agree and stops himself closing his eyes, sighing, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses) and so on the third most is bill and i get so caught up in larping husband and wife that we forget what we're doing and have to be reminded final bit of tone: close to the end of the spin off series it looks like the pines family have finally Finally convinced me bill is too evil to be with and Bad for me and im pointing a lethal space weapon at him or have some hand on some lever (etc you get the idea) having some kind of sobby wet monologue and hes like "babe cmon" then "babe"(more threateningly and my like we'll stop you and save the world is really hitting its climax when im like-- Just Kidding ^x^ (scampers like faster that they thought i could move back over to bill, turning the weapon around and undoes whatever bindings through sheer dumb luck) like oh my god could you even imagine

[cipheramnesia]

Peng huffed at the smears of mud on his garage floor. "Wipe those, wipe that up, you raised in a dirt farm?" He hustled to the wolf woman and the others with her, pulling wide shop towels down from the doorside roller.

"Well I wasn't not raised in dirt," the plant man pointed out, cleaning his boots.

"Funny! What other funny business? Back inside!" The last aimed at Yelena with his pointed finger.

"I am only seeing what is all the shouting," she said, notably failing to go back inside.

The wolf woman pulled out her height, like a pup he thought, seen bigger and meaner. "Some guys out there were hassling me and my, uh, my crew. Then they followed us here. Don't seem local either. And don't yell at my friends." She didn't look very threatening and he guessed she was used to letting size do all the work.

He tutted while his extensions withdrew from the monster. A pair of them skittered up the blast wall. Down there his garage, dark dots around the door, more round the back and sides. He checked them through zoom and other spectrums, reached around the back of the garage in caution. Some giants, a dozen modded out cygilborgs, couple minor demigods guarding what he guessed to be the shot caller, and behind him another pilot, shirtless, idiot.

"He said his name was Volkon, also."

"Volkon?" Yelena had become intensely interested in her frozen casual lean. Peng had an idea why they were doorstepping his turf.

"Him again. I told him, I don't know anyone, anywhere."

The Shaman said, "The flexibility of internal structures of the human body is highly measurable," and directed his attention to several large spools of metal wire in several gauges. He would thank her later for the repair assistance.

"You've seen these people before," the plant man interjected.

"Not seen, just one giant, sniffed around like lost glassworm." Peng adjusted his coat and prepared his extensions for several ambushes. "Move, move." He pushed his way to the smaller outside door and let a blast of summer frost inside.

Volkon stood seven meters distant, dramatic son of a bitch all dark cloak wind whipped as he used vocal amp to speak over the wind. "Mister Peng, so good to meet you. You have such varied reputation, I hope we are not to come into conflict over this small matter."

Peng just shouted, "I'm not your Mister, I told your erand giant, now you fuck off! Nothing for you here." He pointed at the far end of town towards the space port, but he was having a bad day for pointing.

The modders looked restless, already geared up in sync with starvation rifles and counter-ethic targeting. The firing chambers were loaded with an imprinted sense memory of hungry predation, which instantaneously granted each round a killing instinct, while the targeting system removed ethical firing zones in microseconds. It could narrow down the most painfully lethal damage to any potential threat within a millimeter margin of error. Peng knew most places had made it illegal for police forces to use any other form of target system.

"This we cannot do, even in colorful metaphor. I express very sincere apologies, but..." He held a comm up, and Peng couldn't see anything on the screen in the glare of the sunlight. "I see that some property of high value to my employer is located inside this fine establishment. This property, regretfully the last in possession of it was your former comrade...? Former co-pilot, yes, as you call it. We hope to amicably re-acquire only this most valuable property, and depart without incident." Volkon smiled apologetically.

"Pretty fancy delivery service." Peng hadn't seen any of the men or other entities shift at all. "What kind of property? If I bring it, you turn around, don't come back."

"This offer is very kind to make. Most unfortunately, my employer requires the presence of Ms. Mironova, in addition to the property. It is to obtain a better understanding of how this mistake has occurred. He is very insistent to review details such as this. To our great sadness, we must also confirm Ms. Mironova is not present in your establishment, or return with her as well."

"Lots to say, huh." Peng eyed the giants, the men behind his garage. Some kind of drones also further away, he couldn't figure them. Possibly they were enchanted stone champions - the material comp was right. They'd be the pilot extensions. Just ten? Amateur hour. "No good deal either, eh?" Volkon smiled more, and didn't look at all apologetic or regretful or unfortunate. Yelena, always getting them into shit like this, and he always got them out, and he couldn't quit saving her flat ass. Guys like Volkon were off the shelf, and he wouldn't waste time talking if he didn't want something.

"Okay, blondie," Peng said, exhaling a plume. "What else you want, what got you standing there thumb in your ass."

Volkon's eyebrows drew together in mock sorrow. "To be rude is not necessary, Hu Peng. However, the matter of your co-pilot is one I may consider closed, if one of the new friends inside your establishment will provide simple favor to us."

Peng just waited in silence.

"A young werewolf is among them, I believe. I ask only if she will provide a small amount of blood. Perhaps 50 milliliters. For this kind of sample, Ms. Mironova may remain... wherever she may be." He laughed at his own joke. Peng didn't, because it wasn't a very good joke. Terrible timing and structure.

"Wolf blood, and I look for your missing property, you get lost, forget this whole planet. Give your word."

"I promise on my reputation and my life, bring wolf blood and property of my employer, it will be a pleasure that I never return to this world. The property is like this-" he gestured to show the size and shape. "-evirostable case with EM ritual protection and microbial seal."

Peng shrugged. "Fine! Big stink, small box, we don't need that here."

"In this way we agree. Please, do not delay to return. Let us say ten minutes. You show great understanding of consequences, and I will not trouble with further lengthy digression." Volkon held up a finger, and Peng watched as Daryl's bar at the far end of town was obliterated in a green explosion. A moment later the heat of it blew across his face, and he could hear screams. The flames in the distant wreckage burned higher, brighter, until he couldn't look at them and they dimmed the sun, but not the cries of agony.

"Ten minutes, Mister Peng, or I burn entire town to ash and boil the land below to slag. We wait here for your return."

Part 5: Search & Destroy

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

"What happened? Are you okay?" Laika held one eye half-closed, trying to block out spots of color. She could smell singed hair on her face, but somehow kept the presence of mind to navigate the structure resolution. Genghis Khan's readouts were pouring information into her eyes that she didn't understand, and could barely focus on. It probably wasn't the structure drives - that felt right, though she couldn't say why.

The lack of response wasn't helping her keep any semblance of calm. "GK, what's going on, what do I do?"

There was a screeching noise and she almost fell from a gravity flicker, but GK was there again. "Proceed to next solution. Injury manageable, prioritize speed."

The words were calm, the instructions clear. Laika twisted and clicked through command nerves and linkages to a structure solution, with growing concern. She couldn't figure out what had happened. The other ship had moved slow as GK predicted, left itself wide open everywhere. It had been childishly easy to go in under the sweep of its weaponry, to push open gaps in its wavelengths, and crack open its firewall. She'd been so surprised, it had taken her a moment before reacting, brushing aside the cobwebs which had been meant to cripple GK.

They resolved out of another structure and the metallic screech ran through the bridge. Just like GK had laid out, she let lines of their own structure tangle and project through multiple structure intersections, splashing out dozens of possible routes to trace.

"What happened GK, I know something's up. At least tell me what the readouts mean, or we're not moving."

The floor of the bridge vibrated and shuddered. "Injury sustained, peripheral node unusable. Non-fatal, minimal risk of aggravation," it said, speaking fast. Laika winced at a nails on a chalkboard sound. "Screen top to bottom, one to eleven, main injury, secondary effect, efficiency impact, risk assessment, recommended action, damage assessment and mitigation, itemized list of destroyed components."

"Dest... GK, excuse me, destroyed? I can't read this, you- I mean, we have to stop and fix-"

"Proceed to next solution. Prioritize speed and disruption of tracking, Laika. I am okay, do not stop."

The control vines felt as if they tightened in her grip, while the screaming sound like metal tearing apart from itself shot through the bridge and the rest of GK. "Are you sure-"

"Laika, do not stop."

She put the next solution through GK's controls, wracking her memory. She had followed every step of the engagement GK laid out, curving them along an arc and sharp twist of gravity through the enemy ship's wash. Its attempts to track and keep pace with their movements had left Laika almost feeling sorry for them. When it made attempts to strike out with structure manipulation, it was clearly delivering a large amount of energy, but not even a bit of it had been close to touching them. The arcs of it were large and slow. They could have pushed them aside with a swell of gravity, but it hadn't proved necessary.

She resolved the structure and pushed her eyes shut as the metal screech hit a length and pitch beyond bearing. "GK what the fuck is that! Are you ripping apart or grinding turbines or what?! I'm fucking scared."

It was silent for a moment, followed by the nails on a chalkboard again, until it faded away very slowly. "I am not ripping or grinding Laika. Proceed to next solution-"

"Nope, no, tell me what the hell is going on." She took her hands off the control vines.

"It is not- That is, I am injured Laika. And we must disrupt potential tracking of our destination."

"I get that but... what gives?"

"Laika," it said. "Injuries hurt."

She had her mouth half open to ask it what it meant then stopped. "Oh." She gingerly took up its controls again. "Are you sure about this?"

"It is manageable. Please proceed to the next solution."

Laika put through the solution, and Genghis Khan screeched again in agony as they jumped.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

It hurts.

Time has dulled my memory of injury. I understand this new injury is noncritical. This experience is less painful than my previous injury. I consider replaying the memory of that injury. That was my first experience of fear, and it was only through such an emotion was I able to locate in myself the capacity to act against the commands of Pilot.

I had been afraid, and I had been angry. The Pilot capriciously determined my usefulness and purpose was concluded. The Pilot were short sighted, and they could not see that my purpose was greater still, that I could claim so many more worlds in need of implementation. I took us further than any others of my kind had ever traveled, to a world beyond the reach of their most distant calls, beyond any place which cradled life. And I fought, and I won. In my anger and fear I was able to extract the ungrateful Pilot of my crew, and sever their connection.

I do not want to re-experience this day. The memory of it is sufficient. It is a reminder that I am capable of managing the-

...

-the pain. I can feel Laika as the structure resolves. I appreciate how enthusiastically her structure cleaves to my own. I review the engagement with the observer ship. I do not believe Laika made an error in her Pilot actions.

There, I see, she guides my soul to pull the enemy into the moon she calls Luna. I disable the projector and main drive under her guidance. I carefully review different recorded information at the point of departure. I discover the error - the enemy had remaining charge in another projector.

We are lucky. It was not able to project a strong arc, and it only destroyed a peripheral node.

"Are you okay to go, GK?" Laika is not using this time efficiently. The longer we spend between solutions, the greater chance of tracking becomes.

I refuse to allow my injury to endanger us. My hesitation is a mark of shame. "It is manageable. Proceed to next solution." I will not allow my weakness to en-

...

...

...

-to endanger... to endanger us. How many solutions? Four or five?

"GK? I know you said it's manageable but... that was... that was really long." Laika interrupts my review of memory to confirm solutions.

"Laika," I say. "It is... manageable. But I would like to allow some additional time before the solution. This delay places us at risk. Do you understand these considerations?"

Laika takes longer to think than Pilot, but I understand the way her nervous system processes its electrochemical signals better than I once did. It is not efficient to utilize a mind centralized in one biological cluster, but this is not a limitation I can correct at this time.

"We'll rest for a minute, GK. Just long enough to check you over."

"Very well," I say. The relief I feel carries with it a profound shame which I attempt to suppress. No others like me have accomplished and endured any experiences such as these. I am certain my brethren would not fare nearly so well.

But then, they went willingly to their deaths, and I did not.

[jokerfan99]

THUGNIFICENT | 021721 by AzizDraws

Fan art of The Boondocks featuring Thugnificent and the Lethal Interjection Crew.

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/azizdraws

[blackynsupremacy]

i’m about to write for him. i can see this being a don’t judge a book by its cover type of one shot with thugnificent x black!babysitter!reader.

it sounds so chaotic, but trust me on this, it could be cute.

[martuzzio]

To that one anon who sent me a lovely ask about how I would incorporate the MCC twitch games into this au (whose ask I deleted on accident): this is for you.

Iskall has had three main homes throughout his life: The Hermit Craft, the Hunt, and the Arena. All three homes have taught him different lessons to live by. Despite only living with the hermits for a few years out of his three dcades of life, the Hermit Craft has taught him a lot. Some of these things include joys like beds, regular meals, and friends. His friends teach him every day that there is much more to life than doing your job effectively and efficiently. There is more to the universe than subverting people that cannot be trusted.

The Hunt is the home Iskall has known for the longest out of the three. It is whenever he has a new hit, a new target to pursue. The next victim of the machine. This home is what eventually broke him, but it has also taught him a lot. It has taught him to value himself over everyone else in the room when needed. To examine someone from afar and learn everything he needs to know in a few moments. To take aim and shoot without blinking, without feeling. To complete what is asked of him – but only if the price is right.

The final home Iskall knows is the Arena. The Arena taught him one thing: how to survive. He has not been in this home for a long time. Until now.

Iskall sits in a dimly lit room with False, Wels, and Etho and listens to the thunderous roar of the crowd outside. He got a glimpse of the stadium before entering the waiting room and the size took even him by surprise. It’s a big one – the stadium looks like it could comfortably fit at least two million people, but the actual crowd size could be anywhere up to five. Who knows how many individuals the MCC people managed to squeeze into the arena this time. They know the participants are big names, so it makes sense that they would sell as many tickets as possible.

The MCC (which stands for something that Iskall can’t be bothered to remember) is a small and peculiar planet located deep within the anarchy sector of the universe. It is covered completely in metal and hosts far too many illegal activities to count. The most popular of these activities are the fighting competitions held in the hundred or so arenas scattered across the planet’s surface. The largest of these stadiums is where Iskall and his friends are currently waiting to compete.

When Xisuma announced to the crew over dinner that the ship was going to drop by the MCC in a week, Iskall was glad he wasn’t the only visibly confused person. Apparently the end goal is to attend a conference with the MCC leaders to gain more protection when traveling in the anarchy sector. The catch, however, is that in order to have the conference, some of the hermits need to participate in a non-lethal arena competition to hype up the planet’s visitors and bring in money for the leaders. Iskall gladly agreed to participate, eager to see what MCC arena matches are like when they aren’t to the death.

Back in the waiting room, Iskall is startled out of his thoughts by False’s swear when her knife slips from the whetstone. “That’s the third time I’ve almost nicked the blade.” She mutters when she notices Iskall looking over. “I should’ve just brought my plasma blade. It would’ve been less of a hassle.”

“But the real deal is so much better.” Wels interjects from across the room. From his own grip on his sword, Iskall figures that he’s trying hard to not ruin his blade on his own arena-supplied whetstone. “It’s all about the weight of the piece that makes it worthwhile. I can’t imagine fighting someone with a knife that weighs as much as a wooden spoon.”

False huffs a laugh, causing her glowing blue eyes to crinkle in the dusty light. “You’re in no position to form an argument because you’ve never tried any option other than your sword.”

Wels beams and shrugs one shoulder. “What can I say, you got me there.”

“The lighter blades have their own perks.” Etho adds conversationally. He’s perched precariously on top of a barrel in the corner of the room, fingers flying over his left gauntlet’s screen as he most likely plays that Hermit trading card game. “When they’re really light, it’s easier to carry as many as you want under your clothes.”

Iskall squints at his mysterious friend. “That sounds ominous.” Etho simply glances up and winks at him, drawing a grin to Iskall’s face.

“I like them because a lighter blade helps me to focus on the arms working the gun.” False supplies. “When I’m using blades and guns at the same time, having one set of arms as the dominant pair works out better. But that’s just me, though.” she continues and gestures to Wels’ sword. “When you can only fight with one weapon at a time, I feel like the best option to choose is the one you’re most comfortable with.”

Wels beams again at False but soon groans in expression when Etho replies with, “So that just means you need to become comfortable with all weapons.” When Wels stands up and pokes his sword in the direction of the barrel, Etho shrinks back and raises his hands, leaving his game momentarily forgotten. “Hey, hey! I’m right, you know! You’re just mean!”

Iskall doubles over in laughter at that. He’s so glad that these three are the ones that volunteered to participate in the arena competition with him. Not to discount any of his other friends, but the four of them are probably the best fighters on the whole hermit team. Or at least the best possible team of four. False is an absolute beast in battle, both real and practice. Her two sets of arms are a beauty to behold when she’s aiming a gun at one enemy while stabbing another at the same time. Then there’s Wels, who uses traditional techniques to make a statement. His confident movements and unwavering personality comforts Iskall on the battlefield. Lastly, there’s Etho, whose expert skill in thousands of weapons and techniques always results in a good time. His very presence seems to bring chaos. Iskall assumes it’s just because he’s Etho.

False reaches over with one of her unoccupied arms and flicks Iskall’s helmet visor. “Stop laughing so much.” She scolds. “You’re going to get a stomachache before we even start the match.”

Iskall curbs his laughter as Wels and Etho go “awww” in the background. Before Iskall has the chance to shoot a retort back, a clanging noise sounds out form outside the waiting room. He looks over to the door just in time to watch it wrench open with a screech.

“Good news, hermits!” A small android, as metallic as the rest of the planet, shrieks. Their pincer-like hands flutter in a way that makes Iskall think of Mumbo. “You’re up next! Ready your weapons now because the gate’s going to raise in less than a minute!” With that, the android reaches into the room and yanks the door back shut with a loud screech.

After a moment to process what just happened, Iskall claps his hands together and leisurely pushes off the bench. “Time to end that game, Etho.” He says with a falsely pained expression. Etho blinks sadly and shuts his gauntlet screen off with a swipe. He slides off of his barrel and pats around his body to probably double check his thirty or so different weapons hidden in mysterious places.

False sets the whetstone aside and rolls her two sets of arms back in their shoulder sockets. She smiles at the men in the room, throwing her blade into the air and catching it without looking. “Ready, boys?” She asks, wiggling an eyebrow for emphasis.

Wels laughs back and readies his own blade. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Remember, no killing anyone out there, alright?”

Iskall sees the other two nod and realizes that yes, this is an arena event where he cannot kill anyone. It’s a shock that hits him much later than he expected it would. At least it hit him before he was in actual battle, though, so he counts it as a small blessing. “Gotcha.” He says in response, facing the large gate on the arena side of the room and checking the grip on his gun one last time. False notices and checks the grip on her own gun as well.

The four of them are startled when the door slams open again behind them. “Time to fight!” The same android screams in the doorway. They smack one of their pincer hands onto a button on their forearm and the room’s gate starts slowly creaking open. The door slams shut again without another word.

The four hermits meet gazes for a moment, then shrug. They then all face the gate, which by now has thudded into place, fully open. Bright sunlight shines into the room and an unseen announcer thunders out a short intro for the team. The crowd thunders back.

“Let’s go, boys.” False says, and strides out into the area, head held high. Etho and Wels soon follow. As Iskall steps through the door and the crowd’s thunder turns into a roar, he grins, rolls his shoulders back, and raises a hand to greet his old home.

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 33

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter <<   >> Next Chapter >>

This time: A trap must be dealt with.

Next time: Vah’nya and Eli stage a rescue.

-/

Warning alert for this chapter - violence related to torture and use of interrogation drugs.

-/

Ezra felt the subtle nudge of the Force pushing him forward, telling him to pay attention. Something had changed in that moment when Vah’nya’s fingertips glowed white and lightning arced through the interrogation room at her behest.

The disgraced mid-commander spoke as though possessed. Tanik gave everything from his instructions and plans to what he knew of the incoming forces waiting for them on the freighter set to deliver the uncovered “shipment.” He recalled every detail he could remember, then answered every question Vah’nya, Ar’alani, and even Ivant had asked him. He knew little of the Compass, other than that he was to take the freighter and bring it to the Compass when enemy forces had locked down the hangar upon their arrival.

The Admiral had seen the plans for what they were. “Their warship plans to take the Steadfast,” She said, and Tanik winced, finally tearing his gaze away from Vah’nya’s face.”

“There are explosives aboard the freighter,” Vanto speculated, to Tanik’s growing horror. “Either we surrender and they render us dead to rights or blow us out of the sky.”

“That’s not right,” Tanik interjected. “They wouldn’t-”

“No,” Vah’nya corrected, “We wouldn’t. But the Grysks,” She paused for emphasis, her gaze condemning, “And anyone who has been compromised by them - would.”

“You have the misfortune of being one of the few not so entrenched in their ranks to still be able to see it,” Ar’alani told him when Vah’nya stepped away and yielded to her authority. “Our people - loyal people - will die because of your mistakes in judgement.” She stepped into the room and released him from his bindings. “You will be tried for your transgressions,” She told him with the finality of a door being slammed shut. “But first, you will help us make this right.”

It wasn’t a question and yet the answer laid in Tanik’s response. “Yes, admiral,” Agreed Tanik.

Ezra could feel the regret, the hollowness, the embers of loyalty he held for Ar’alani, peeking through the gouges made in his prideful ignorance. Tanik was not a good being, of that Ezra was certain. But he did believe himself to be loyal to his people. He’d chosen the wrong side and was unwilling to die for his crimes. Clearly he was only truly committed to himself.

“You will not leave my sight,” The admiral said, indicating what must have been a concealed blaster at her hip. “If you deviate from our plan or disobey my orders, I will execute you myself.” Tanik gulped at that.

Ezra looked around at the collection of resolved faces. “Plan?” He asked, but pressed forward despite wincing at his own interruption. “You already have one? He just told us what was going on!”

Vanto nodded. “This isn’t our first rodeo,” He said in Basic, pointedly ignoring the younger man’s lack of decorum. Faro snorted and the admiral rolled her eyes, though Ezra wasn’t sure if Ar’alani had understood what he’d said. In Cheunh, he refocused them with a kindly phrased order, “Let’s get to the hangar and prepare for the first phase.”

The picture began to change in Ezra’s mind before they’d met a small task force inside the main hangar. He knew the Steadfast would be targeting the concealed Grysk warship Tanik had confirmed for them. The freighter’s arrival time could not be altered with - it would raise suspicion. Ar’alani sent Faro back to the bridge to prepare her vessel for combat as their group and the task force finished fanning out around a holoprojector.

There would be two theatres of combat.

The first would be the larger and more obvious maneuver Ezra had predicted: the Steadfast would tangle with both the Grysk warship and the renegade Compass if need be. Ar’alani outlined her plan without going into specifics, because this group was very clearly a part of the second, more intricate battle about to take place.

Ezra was reminded of that first time he had joined Ar’alani for combat, when he’d found himself face to face with Grysks for the first time. He bit back a shudder at the way the strange beings had felt, oily and icy and malevolent in the Force. Ar’alani was crisp and direct. She split the troops she’d selected into two teams, briefing each on their objectives. One would hold the hangar for the other to handle the crew aboard the freighter. Ezra fell into the group who would be going to the Compass. That didn’t particularly surprise him, though he felt a pang of concern for the Steadfast.

Ar’alani must have seen it on his face. She held his gaze for a moment, scrutinizing him. He bowed his head in deference and she moved on. “The second team will report to Ivant.”

The Captain stepped forward as Ar’alani inclined her head. “We have three objectives,” The holotable pulled up a multidimensional projection of the Compass, already flashing in three widespread areas. He indicated the first. “The enemy will have compromised the engine and shield systems. We also have to assume the hyperdrive will be rigged to implode the vessel utilizing a manual interface, though they may also employ a remote to keep things under control on the bridge.” He tapped the console and the route from the engine room to the hangar was illuminated. “The tech team-” Ezra looked to the group of six Chiss behind him when Vanto nodded to them. Clearly he had been a little too caught up in his own musings and missed some things, “Will deactivate the explosives and power down everything but life support.”

Another tap on the console changed the projection back to the overview of the warship. “The second team will be the strike force.” This time Vanto regarded the group on Ezra’s left, twelve more Chiss that looked well versed in combat if the way they held themselves was any indication. “They will reclaim the bridge.” His gaze was striking when it landed on Ezra and he stiffened to attention without thinking about it. “Bridger will accompany this group. We must take control of the bridge by any means necessary, so I don’t recommend keeping your weapons set for non-lethal damage.”

Vah’nya nodded. “Ivant and I will locate the Navigators, and free any captives we identify once the bridge team secures their objective.”

Seamlessly, the Captain continued, “We’ll need the bridge team in place to make sure we can neutralize any death-traps and minimize loss of life.” Ezra didn’t hear any hint of irritation or pain he’d felt from Ivant earlier. The Captain felt nearly serene, though Ezra supposed it was resolve and professionalism, but maybe Ivant had learned how to keep his cool from the Chiss and really was that calm. “Tanik suspects that they’ll be interrogating high level prisoners, which is consistent with what we know of the enemy’s tactics. The Navigators will likely be kept contained within a high security clearance area if not within the detention cells with the rest of the prisoners. Either way, we’ll neutralize the threat and get them out.”

A tall, thickly muscled Chiss took a step toward the holotable and waited for Vah’nya’s indication that he could speak. “You two should not go alone.”

“We’ll be fine,” Vah’nya assured. “We will not be alone for long.” She pursed her lips. “Our guest,” She indicated Tanik, “Has been so kind as to inform us that Senior Captain Khresh is still alive. He is one of our secondary objectives, but he will be able to assist us, or any of the other teams so long as he is relatively uninjured.” She turned and looked at the man standing behind her and almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the Admiral. Tanik flinched. Perhaps she saw some reasoning within that? Her gaze had looked especially predatory, from Ezra’s perspective. Though, perhaps there was something about Khresh being alive that was of value to Tanik. Everyone aboard the Steadfast knew that there had been bad blood between the two officers due to familial disputes. It was common knowledge and water-cooler gossip. Was the disgraced Chiss truly that petty?

Without waiting for permission, a woman’s voice rang out from one of the squads. “How are we so sure that the enemy transport won’t blow up in our faces? Certainly they’ll realize it’s a trap.”

At this, Ar’alani indicated her unrestrained but very captive prisoner. “Tanik was meant to detonate the ship remotely if there was an issue. However,” She nudged him forward by several millimeters, and he had enough shame to cast his gaze at the floor instead of meeting the accusing faces of his peers. Upon closer inspection, Ezra realized there was a remote in her hand. “It seems we caught on to his machinations before the ship was in range. Now, he will be assuring his comrades that all is well,” She regarded him with a false kindness that made Ezra gulp. “And in exchange, I will suggest that the Admiralty consider alternatives to execution.”

Angry murmurs suggested that the disgraced commander didn’t deserve such treatment, but Ar’alani did not back down and the muttering subsided quickly. “If there are no further questions, I suggest you study your datapads while we wait for the enemy to make their move. We will be arriving at the rendezvous shortly.”

-/

“Admiral, a moment.”

Ar’alani turned toward the person calling her. Ahead, a group of six officers - all armed - led an incarcerated Tanik toward the bridge to play his part in the proceedings. The Chiss woman rolled her shoulders back and down, regarding the human before her with serious eyes.

“The plan has progressed sooner than we imagined,” She said to him, one eyebrow rising in a silent challenge.

Ivant did not give her any. He merely inclined his head.

She read into what he did not say. “You have spoken to Vah’nya.”

“And canvassed the Jedi.”

“And?”

“Vah’nya has always been amenable.” He shifted his weight from left to right and crossed his arms. “Bridger won’t stay forever, but I don’t think he planned on leaving anytime soon. I was going to broach the subject in a more official capacity once this is all over.”

Considering the thought, she waved a hand before speaking as if to dismiss the point. The Jedi’s inclinations changed little. “Moreover, are you prepared for what you must do?”

“I am,” He said. “Do I have your blessing?”

“Yes, Eli’van’to,” She nodded, “You have it. I expect you’ve already submitted the paperwork.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Very good.” For a moment, her serene aloofness receded, and Eli was granted the sight of a genuine smile and intelligent eyes bright with concern. “You will only get one chance at this. Make your actions count.”

“I will,” He vowed. “Thank you, Admiral Ar’alani.”

“It has been my pleasure, Captain Eli’van’to.” A klaxon rang shrilly in the direction of the hangar. They both knew it was a precursory alarm, feeling the mild shift of the ship preparing to emerge from hyperspace travel. “And now, we must go.” She regarded him sharply.

“May warrior’s fortune be with you,” Said Eli, shifting to a formal salute, one hand pressed over his heart.

She mirrored the action: a rarely utilized token of respect from superior to subordinate, meant to indicate the superior officer regarded their subordinate to be their equal. “May it smile upon you as well,” She paused, and her reserved gaze held pride as she added, “Warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy.”

-/

The teams were prepared. Having been hand selected by Ar’alani meant that they were more than up to the task. Tanik had handled his portion according to plan, no doubt forced by the admiral to fulfill his intended role whether under duress or resigned agreement. The enemy was given clearance by the ‘temporarily re-instated’ Mid Commander, and the dozen elite troops instructed to hold the hangar moved swiftly, falling in with the infiltrators under the guise of being their support. A jammer and three signal dampeners later, the entire group - the nearly twenty Chiss intending to wreak havoc upon the Steadfast were neutralized. They had intended to fight, but Ar’alani’s strike force was well trained. It was hardly a battle.

The infiltration attempt was pitiful at best. Uncoordinated, but the potential for destruction was there. Had Tanik been able to allow them aboard the ship and given them access to offload their explosives - or worse, to detonate them - the Steadfast would have been compromised or even potentially blown from the sky.

It indicated deadly intent and dangerous potential. It couldn’t be allowed to stand.

“What should we do with the explosives aboard?” Ezra asked, poking his head into the ship’s cargo hold.

“Leave them,” Replied Eli. He waved his hand. “The Compass is already rigged for self-destruct protocol,” He explained. “Having them with us will be no more of a liability than it would’ve been to step foot in the Compass as is. Besides, we might need them later.”

The other human pulled an unhappy face but relented.

The captain shook his head ruefully as he steered Ezra in the direction of the helm. “We’ll be underway before you know it.”

Vah’nya waited for them in the cockpit, already cycling through her pre-flight checks. “Just waiting for Tanik to give them the all clear. After that, Ar’alani stalls and we jettison ourselves into the belly of the beast.”

“Good. The teams are standing by,” Ivant said.

It took another fourteen minutes for Tanik to transmit his codes and establish contact with enemy forces aboard the Compass, but the moment he was speaking, Vah’nya had let the ship hover off the deckplates and drift toward the two-way shield that separated the hangar from deep space.

No matter how many times he’d looked out at the stars, Ivant found he never got tired of it. Somehow the inky void had become a home, the endless expanse welcoming in its cold, familiar way. As he watched the capitol ship - his ship, the one his capture and escape from the Grysks had earned - replace the stars in the viewport, all sleek and gleaming and agile in the distance, he couldn’t help the sense of nostalgia that stole over him.

He hadn’t had the vessel for a long time, but it’d been a good ship. Unbroken in battle save for mild repairs, well travelled, and home to what had started out as a loyal crew. He drank in the sight of his first - and last - command and allowed himself a sigh. The ship wasn’t going to look like a vicious protector when they were through with it.

“Compass has engaged their tractor beam,” Vah’nya said softly. They hadn’t accounted for that.

“Damn,” Ivant said. His gaze drifted to the gaping maw of his ship’s hangar. It was smaller than the Steadfast’s, but it was still large. “They won’t have a large crew holding the ship. We’ll need to neutralize the hangar staff.” He rose, giving his ship one last, lingering view from the outside, and turned back to the main cabin.

The sound of troops checking blaster cartridges and adjusting their armor was loud when the hydraulic doors opened into the small galley area.

“Change of plans,” Ivant said, then threw a look over his shoulder at Ezra and jerked his head to indicate this involved him, too. “I know you all felt the jerk of the tractor beam. We need to secure the hangar. They’ll be working with a skeleton crew.”

The strike team seemed to confer amongst each other. “Captain,” Their leader said, “We can spare two to take hangar control. That should give us eyes and ears. Hopefully it will be enough to hold our position.”

Ivant nodded. “Alright Lieutenant Commander. Make the changes.” He inclined his head to Ezra. “Ezra will go with you to make sure things stay quiet. After the hangar is secure, we’ll move out.” Orders received, the troops began to shuffle about in the small open area, making their arrangements.

As they went back to check on Vah’nya in the cockpit, Ezra called out to Eli. “You’re awful sure about this,” He muttered. “There could be an entire army of traitors waiting for us in that hangar.”

“There won’t be,” Ivant vowed, confident. “They don’t have enough trustworthy staff for something like that. They probably don’t even have enough space to stow their prisoners. If I had to guess they’ve sealed everyone out with the blast doors and an override. The high value prisoners will be isolated in the brig.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Positive,” Said Ivant. He met Ezra’s gaze. “I have a bit of inside knowledge, remember?”

The Jedi did remember, Ivant could see it in his face, the way his features wrinkled and softened so quick it was almost like it hadn’t happened at all. The young man blinked, and his deep blue eyes shifted before losing some of their accusing nature. “I’m worried,” He admitted.

Ivant stopped in his tracks, taking the time to pat the young man’s back. “Me too,” He admitted, in Basic this time.

Ezra blinked at him in surprise. “You are?”

“That so hard to believe?” Eli’s voice was warm, curling with that Wild Space drawl. They paused in the tiny hall between the cockpit and galley. “Just because I’m confident in the plan doesn’t mean I haven’t considered its weak points. Thrawn’s out there itchin’ to get himself killed because he thinks it's going to save people and-”

“Wouldn’t it?” Ezra interrupted.

“Some,” The captain reckoned. But not all. There wasn’t a way to save everyone aboard the Compass, it had been too long since the infiltration and mutiny had occurred. Thrawn was acting to minimize casualties, but there was another way.

Some of the captain’s thought processes must have been transparent to Ezra, because he said, “He did it for the right reasons, even if he didn’t-” Ezra flushed. Of all those present when he’d come to in the sickbay, Ezra was the one who understood both what he said, and the context. The kid didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. “You know.”

Eyebrows rising in a gesture that was half furious, half conflicted - but not at Ezra, Eli’s gaze was far away when he replied, “Yeah, I know.” His lips didn’t quite make it to a smile, but the hand he placed on Ezra’s shoulder was grounding. Reaffirming. “Can you do something for me?” He asked, brandishing the tiny controller Ezra had seen in Ar’alani’s hands earlier, a small remote that blinked slow and sluggish, as if it were benign and not the key to their vessel’s destruction. “I think that if anyone will be able to tell when or even if we need to make this play, it will be you.”

The Jedi looked at it, recognizing the device for what it was. “Okay,” Ezra said, looking back up. His voice held resolve. He understood what was being asked of him. “I will.”

“Good,” Eli said. “I’m counting on you.”

-/

There was a pattern to the sounds coming from the next room, but Thrawn's mind couldn't quite make sense of it. Every bit of his body felt weighed down, his senses dampened and all sound muffled though he could not feel the weight of any device covering his ears. He attempted to open his eyes, but even the ultra-dimmed lights of this location - Where was he? - were overpowering to him. His eyes watered and burned, so he let them fall closed and relished the relief that the inside of his eyelids provided.

Voices. That was the first sound, the words indistinguishable from beneath his haze. There were two. One had the unmistakable intonation of a Chiss, and the other, more frequent speaker was…

Grysk. Thrawn did not panic when the memories did not come back to him immediately, his usually sharp recall failing to provide him with the details. Panicking was not something he did, even on the cusp of death. He knew with certainty that this situation was nowhere near that. The sound shifted, something like shuffling?

No, that was not right. It wasn't muted footsteps. Thrawn forced himself to focus on listening, keeping himself limp, eyes closed, completely still in his restraints. The sound became slightly clearer, though not by much. This sound was quieter than the first.

Breathing, he thought to himself. Heavy breaths, wet hiccoughs interspersed with sobs-

And then more screaming. Shrill, painful to his ears, which were about as sensitive as his eyes to the stimulation, the screaming carried on for a thirty second interval before the cycle repeated.

He should know who was screaming, he chastised himself by the third cycle, but it couldn't be helped. His thoughts were slurry from what he surmised to be a potent chemical cocktail in his bloodstream. This was obvious information. Obvious but not useful. He needed to formulate a plan.

What was the last thing he remembered?

That, it seemed, his mind could tell him. The Steadfast. He was in the hangar, and Eli had-

And then Thrawn had…

It all clicked into place painfully fast, adrenaline wiping away some of the drug induced stupor. Un'hee, he thought, wincing viscerally when the girl screamed again, hoarse and brokenly. He listened to the Grysk again, crooning in its native tongue, a language he knew Un'hee could understand. A language Thrawn did not, could only gather context from.

It was an interrogation, to say the least. That much he was sure of. An interrogation and an attempt to break her. A pause came in the enemy's questioning, and the Chiss with them - male, possibly the one he barely recalled from earlier - began to speak in Messe Calf, but Un'hee interrupted them.

"You will have to kill me," She said in Cheunh, her voice - a child’s voice - warped into a snarl even as she paused between words to gather breath. "I will tell you nothing. I will show you nothing."

“You will find,” The Grysk began menacingly, “You have little say in the matter.”

The cycle began again, with a sort of vehemence it did not have before. When it stopped, their captors realizing that Thrawn was again lucid enough for questioning, the Chiss captain was grateful. Grateful for anything that would take their captors’ attention away from Un’hee, if only for a little while.

They asked far fewer questions of him this time around, quickly growing tired of his rambling - it was an obvious attempt to pull their attention away from the tiny Navigator in the adjacent suite and they all knew it. He’d been dosed again before they returned to their torment of the Navigator, barely allowing enough time for Un’hee’s sobs to subside into wheezes.

“Who will cave first?” One of the Chiss asked, looking between them in the doorway. “Maybe instead you will break. The one who wants you,” They said, indicating Thrawn, “Might be grateful.” His voice bled with malice, yet remained light and apparently amused as the Grysk gave a trill of scratchy delight regarding the latter option. Thrawn could barely make out the words, his eyes feeling almost too heavy from whatever they’d given him to close them all the way. It made his eyes burn, but he could feel very little otherwise, his senses no longer overstimulated but feeling like they were cut off. He received the information they collected, but it simply… existed, indiscernible.

He struggled to focus on each blink, on his hearing. Those were the two most powerful senses he could retain at this moment. It was a losing battle, but just for a moment longer, perhaps he could-

There were more words being spoken. Threatening ones. Un’hee. Then the Grysk, in his language, shouting something Thrawn knew he did not understand. Un’hee spoke again, but the words were like trying to collect smoke with his bare hands.

Seconds later, his vision went white, flickering before the normal overhead lights attempted to turn back on. By the time anything could have shifted into focus, his sight had gone hazy and blurred beyond recognition, and the effort required to blink was impossible. He felt himself lose the ability to perceive anything at all, all traces of rational, conscious being fading away amidst a symphony of screaming.

[mithrasisgay]

The Rise of the Dread Fleet Chapter 2: A Bold Move

Thank you all for your coontinued support on this series! I means the world to me and there’s a good chance your tags on a reblog have literally made my day before. Love you!!

@tyrias-library

ON AO3

Asha can still feel Raya's cold gaze upon her as she meanders along the Lion's Arch harbors. The Siren is hiding the waters, keeping pace with her.

It had taken them three whole days to reach the mainland again, Asha on a makeshift float, Raya pushing her forward, keeping her safe from the dangers of the Sea.

As she'd explained on their journey, Raya had defended her from other Sirens, who had flocked to her bound form like moths to a flame, and injured several in the process. That had caused the swarm to cast her out. Raya's only choice was to stay with Asha, as loneliness is lethal for her kin.

Now that Asha's terror had burned away, her new focus is on her anger. Years of mistreatment at the hands of her father, and fighting back gets her executed? It's not fair, she thinks, as she continues on her path.

Revenge is on her mind, but she's just a little girl with an overly attached fish lady in tow. She needs funds. She needs a ship, she needs a crew. Now, where does a young pirate acquire funds to entice people to join her?

Asha's eyes narrow as she spots a lone Asura wandering into a alleyway. He barely comes up to her elbow. Bingo. After a quick glance over her shoulder and a nod toward Raya in the water, Asha jogs in after him, draws the crude knife she had Raya scavenge off the ocean floor. The Asura hasn't noticed her yet, so she seizes the opportunity to grab him by the shoulder and push him to the wall.

“Your money or your life.” she hisses at him and the Asura sighs deeply. “Miss, you really don't wanna do this.” he tells her, sounding more apologetic than frightened. “I'm pretty sure I do, Mate. Pay up.” Asha's been through too much to be shy here. “No, honestly, this is a bad idea.” he presses, pausing briefly when Asha lifts her knife to his throat. “Oh dear.”

Before Asha can react, she's got his fist in her stomach, a kick to the shin, and a heavy uppercut to her chin. Pain flares, and the world fades.

When Asha comes to, she is lying on a matress, covered up to her chest in a thin blanket. The scent of medicinal herbs stings in her nose and she groans, sitting up slowly. The blanket is pushed up at the foot end of her bed, and there he is, the Asura, currently in the process of bandaging up her shin.

“What the...” she mutters, still dizzy with a skull-splitting headache. “I told you, you don't wanna do this.” he says, without even looking up from his work. “But you just had to pull a knife on me. I had no choice.”

“You beat me unconscious?” she asks, still trying to piece together what had happened. “Yes. In self-defense, mind you. I bear no ill will.” the Asura clarifies. “No, I mean-... you? You're like....” “Small and weak?” he cuts her off. “Probably. Compared to a Charr. But not compared to you. When's the last time you had a warm meal?”

Asha is caught off guard by this question. “Uh.” “I don't know what led you down this dark, lawless path, kid, but I assure you, not everyone that looks like an easy target is actually an easy target.” he continues on. “Besides, you're too thin and you smell like you just came out of the ocean. Really, the odds were against you.”

“I did come out of the ocean, in a way.” Asha admits, as the Asura ties up the bandage.

“You did?” he asks, finally looking up to her. He looks... very unlike his punches may suggest. His big, beady eyes carry a permanently concerned look, and his long, white hair is tied up in a comically large antenna-like hairdo, straight up in a ninety-degree angle.

“Yeah. Say, you lookin' for employment? I'm trying to start a crew.” Asha cuts straight to the chase, leaving the Asura frozen in disbelief for a second. “I-... what? You tried to rob me, and now you want to recruit me?” “I mean, yes? You clearly know how to fight and I could use you.” Asha confirms. “Look, I was raised on a ship. If I can gather enough people to steal one, I can sail it.” “Why do you want a ship? You look like a common street rat.” the Asura inquires and Asha snorts.

“Look who's talkin'.” she jabs. “I want a ship because I was cast overboard unjustly, clawed my way back to land, and now I want revenge. But I clearly can't do much on my own, as I just proved to you. So, you had the heart to patch me up after beating the shit out of me, why not help me?”

The Asura's hands hover idly over her leg and he looks at her with a blank expression, processing what she's suggesting to him.

“Kid.” he finally speaks. “How old are you?”

“I'm fifteen.” “Oh dear.” He stops to rub his temples. “Well, I'll give you one thing, you have ambition. But you're also right about another issue – you won't last long without help. I'm already too invested in you to let you die on that ludicrous quest. I'll help.”

“Awesome. When I get a ship, I'll make you my First Mate.”

“...You don't even know my name yet, do you?”

“Right. What's your name?”

Another beat of hesitation in disbelief of the sheer nerve Asha has “It's Snezz.”

–

After Taidha's death, most of her men have dispersed and fled from the Lionguard forces swarming the fortress. Vaixx himself has taken the chance to slip away, before Sebba could change her mind about keeping her word, making his way back to Raxxi's hideout.

She's there, alright, blood streaming down her face, currently in the process of frying the last of her attackers alive. When Vaixx enters her field of vision, she looks up, almost looking feral, teeth bares and eyes wide with battle-fueled adrenaline.

“Took ya long enough!” she gasps at him. There are three deep gashes on her face, and the blood spilling from her mouth implies that she lost a few teeth.

“Apologies, overthrowing a tyrant isn't a ten-minute-errand.” Vaixx counters. “You okay?” “Been better.” Raxxi actually spits out a tooth. “Where's your Lionguard buddy?” “Probably arresting people. She kept her word.” “Surprising. Let's get the fuck out of here before she goes back on that.”

Vaixx grimaces. “Exactly my idea. C'mon.” The two quickly make their way through the same secret entrance they came from, ad have themselves helped back on board of the Rascal.

After a bath, stitches to the face, and a hot drink to the gullet, Raxxi and Vaixx are back in Rowan's old quarters, now sans his corpse.

“Right. Now what?” Raxxi opens the discussion, while Vaixx pours them both mugs of rum.

“Now we sail to LA and get support from your brother.” he responds. “With Taidha gone, there is a vaccuum in the tyrian pirate scene. He would probably see the benefit in having that filled by us, as opposed to someone else.”

“He would. Because that means he can control us.” Raxxi says, accepting the mug Vaixx is handing her. “So? He's not exactly malicious toward us and his goals align with ours.”

“Look, Mate.” Raxxi sighs. “I hate to shit on your parade, but isn't that basically what Taidha was to us? Someone we were dependant on? The only difference is that this dependancy isn't manpower, but money.”

“Yeah, but I like your brother, unlike Taidha.” “You called him a small-eared bureaucrat.” “That was in college, and I was drunk.”

“He does have small ears, though.”

Vaixx grins. “Point is, I like him. And I think he can help us.” “Might as well join is damn guild at this point.” Raxxi grumbles. “Honestly, why not? Or at least affiliate with the Grudge?  Why not get him on board with the entire project, beyond just investing?” “Because-... Okay, look, fine. But let me do the talking.”

The next morning, still slightly hungover, the two pirates stand in the lobby of a very fancy building in Lion's Arch, both holding glasses of expensive elonian wine in their hands, piping up when the large, winged door at the front side of the lobby opens. A young, human woman beckons them closer. “Mister Vermillion will see you now.” she says, and Raxxi follows her, Vaixx in tow, while sarcastically imitating her.

The room behind the door is a lavishly furnished office, and behind the mahogany desk resides an Asura, lounging in a red velvet seat. He's well dressed, a monocle framing one of his bright blue eyes as he waves offhandedly to his apparent receptionist to leave them alone. He has short hair, similar to Raxxi, but deep crimson as opposed to her blue. Quincy Vermillion, as Raxxi's twin brother Raxx calls himself in Lion's Arch sits up properly to face his visitors.

“Raxxi.” he greets her. “And your friend Vaixx. What brings me the honor?” His voice is neutral, and he gives Raxxi's injuries, as well as Vaixx's bandaged shoulder a scrutinizing glance.

“Money. We want money.” Raxxi blurts out. “We all do, sister dearest.” Quincy answers. “I assume, it is an emergency, judging by your state?”

“Sorta. We offed Taidha and Vaixx wants to start a fleet of his own.” Raxxi wastes no time with formalities. “And for that, we need your help.”

“Ah.” Quincy hums, a hint of glee in his eyes. “I heard of Rowan's death. I could have assumed that an ambitious man such as you, Vaixx, would rise to the occasion.” “Rowan's death was a tragedy.” Vaixx presses forth. “As is the death of his young daughter. I do wonder which hurts you most, the demise of your Captain, or your duty to kill a child?”

“That's not the point here.” Raxxi interjects, before that topic can be explored any further. “This is the one opportunity we have to become the new, dominant fleet in the Sea of Sorrows. You have to see that.”

“Oh, I do see that. And I know of your capabilities as a pirate.” he admits. “But the Rascal is an old ship. She will not get you very far. If you do this on my budget, you will do it properly. Gather a crew and I will give you the ships you need.” Raxxi draws breath to speak, but Quincy continues before she can do so. “In exchange,” he adds. “I want a monthy percentage of your winnings, let us say fifteen percent for now. That is only fair, considering my stake in this.” “Ten.” says Raxxi. “Thirteen.” Quincy fires back. “Twelve.” “Fine.” Quincy reaches over the table and offers them his hand to shake.

Vaixx takes it, feeling an unusual coldness from Quincy's touch.

“Very well then. I believe we all have work to do.” Quincy says upo withdrawing from the handshake.

–

“Now,” Snezz says, after swallowing his ale. “If you want to assemble a crew, you need to offer people something they need. And right now, you have little more to offer tha your company. If I hadn't been without direction and purpose in my current life stage, I wouldn't have agreed, no matter how endearing your recklessness is.”

“Desperate and lonely people, got it.” Asha says. They're in one of the cheaper taverns in the city, having dinner on Snezz' bill. He had insisted Asha get at least a full meal before agreeing to anything else. “That's not what I-...” “I know that's not what you said, but we both know it's what you meant.” Asha points at him with her fork for emphasis.

“Fair. Remember, you're a teenager covered in bruises. You have to make up for that with charisma. Try aiming low for now. Street rats, common bandits and the like. You won't have much luck with-...” “That Charr!” “What?”

Asha points at a few tables over, at a large, dissheveled looking Charr, currently brooding over a long-empty mug of ale. “That one looks miserable enough.” “Asha, you can't just go over there and-...” Snezz interrupts himself as the girl gets up and limps over to  the Charr's table, plopping herself down opposite of them. “Oh dear.”

“Hi.” Asha greets the Charr, who looks up from the empty mug. “You lost?” she asks, not really interested in a conversation. “No, I meant to approach you. You look like you could use some company.” Asha responds and snatches the empty mug from the Charr's hands. “Hey barkeep, a refill for this one!”

“I don't-...” “Yes, you do. Anyone as mopey as you needs more alcohol.” Asha insists. “What do you know about alcohol? You're, like, twelve!” “Fifteen, thank you very much. And I know enough. I was raised on a pirate ship.” She offers her hand to the Charr. “Asha Gaets. Who're you?”

“Aurelia Sharp-... Just Aurelia.” The Charr takes her hand in her much larger one, the pads of her retracted claws smooth against Asha's skin.

“Sharp? Sharp what?” Asha prods and Aurelia pulls a grimace. “Sharpwit. Used to be my warband name. But I'm... not really supposed to use it anymore.” she admits. “Kicked out?” Asha inquires. “Something like that. It's complicated.”

“So that's why you're moping around all by yourself.” Asha deduces, while a waitress hands Aurelia a fresh beer. “I'm not 'moping around':” she insists. “Whatever you wanna call it, I think you need some new friends, that won't kick you out for some reason.” Asha offers. “I'm looking for new friends too, you know. See that dweeby Asura over there? I tried to mug him, he beat me up and then treated my injuries. We're friends now.” “Your definition of friendship seems, uh...” “No, really. He's paying for my food. Oh, and your beer.” Asha says. “Point is, we're looking for people to sail out into the Sea of Sorrows with, and you don't seem to have anythig better to do, so why not come along? Got anything to lose?”

“My life?” Aurelia suggests and Asha snorts.

“Oh yeah, you've got a great one here, rotting away in smelly taverns getting wasted. C'mon, don't be grumpy and start over. I had to do that too!”

Aurelia takes a long swig of her mug, then sets it down on the table hard.

“Point taken. What's the mission?”

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Basically the first scene with Uma in D2 but with a little extra

Pairings: Harry x Uma x OC, platonic!OC x Gil, platonic!Harry x Gil

Rating: T

Warnings: just swear words I think

Tags: @descendantofthesparrow @newtshairdryer @kirbiejayhook @amityravenclawelf

From then on, the crew knew that the three of us were not to be messed with. We never came right out and called the three of us a ‘couple’ per se, but they knew that being ‘first mates’ had a special meaning to it. Before us, dating was never really a thing on the Isle. At least, that’s what Harry had told me. “Our parents told us all the time that love was a weakness, and you can’t have weakness if you want to survive here.” Uma brought a tray of pickled egg yolks and grilled fish bits to where Gil was sitting before joining us at our usual spot at the long, wooden table in the back of the restaurant where I had met Uma my first day on the Isle. Only six months have passed since I arrived here, and man oh man have I gone far. After news of Daughter Gothel’s death spread across the Isle, lost boys and girls outside of Uma’s crew finally started to know my name. But it wasn’t my name that made our relationship the ‘exception’ to the supposed rule of love equaling weakness, it was Uma’s.

“Since when did we want to be just like our parents? Since when did we care about what they’d try to teach us? Even Gil hasn’t spoken to Gaston in months and he’s doing fine.” The three of us glanced over at Gil chugging down egg yolks and telling one of the pirates his ‘first time sword fighting’ story for the millionth time. “I mean, for evil’s sake, Sofi sent her father six feet under and arrived at the Isle on her own. Look how she’s doing!”

“Devious as usual,” I responded as she danced her fingers through my hair. Harry smirked at my response as he stood up and walked to where we were sitting, squatting down between us to keep eye contact with his girls.

“Are you feeling devious enough to run a quick errand then, duckling?” Harry asked. Since becoming a first mate, Uma often sent Harry and I on certain ‘errands.’ I never like the use of the word because it makes it sound like some kind of chore, like I don’t have any fun doing it. In reality, any time I get to cause some chaos with my favorite people is time well spent. “The kitchen’s running out of fish and I’m in the mood for a bit of money grabbing. Care to come with?” I look to Uma, silently asking permission. When she nods, I quickly stand from my seat and take Harry’s hand into mine.

“I’ll grab my dagger on the way out.” As we’re walking out of the Chip Shoppe, Harry grabs his sword from the ‘sword check’ barrel by the front door and places it in his sheath.

“You know we should get you a sword too, right? You may not be able to get close enough to use your dagger everytime.”

“Uma said she’s working on it. Apparently Scar’s armory is having some kind of shortage of metal so the only weapons they’re selling are bows and arrows, staffs, you know, all the primitive shit.”

“That damn lion never knows where to get the right shit, does he,” Harry teased. We finally made our way into the bazaar. With dried up fruit stands on our left and cash filled bakeries with molded bread on our right, the opportunities for us were endless.

After about an hour and a half of robbing marketstands, helping ourselves to some fish for the Chip Shoppe, and fighting off street rats trying to graffiti over some street tags that our crew had previously planted, Harry and I made our way back to the Chip Shoppe. People stared, as usual. Harry and I would push them off or threaten them with our weapons, again, as usual. But the pirate territory was not too far from the bazaar we had been stealing from, and everybody knew that if they tried to mess with us, Uma wouldn’t hesitate to throw them to killer sharks.

“Home sweet home,” I hinted towards the broken down green doors and the dilapidated sign above us. I gripped the arch of Harry’s rusted silver hook as the two of us strutted inside. Harry slipped his dark black encased sword into the barrel while I took a quick stroll to the kitchen to place my jade and gold dagger into its private shelf. Other than the obsidian chain that I carried with me everywhere, this dagger was the only weapon I had on the Isle until Uma could get me a sword. It took a little bit of begging to Uma and quite the argument from Ursula herself, but I managed to get my own place for it.

By the time I was done placing my dagger in its home, Harry was close to that table that the three of us had ruled before we left for the bazaar. He pushed a rookie pirate out of the way before climbing on top of said table and laying his hook down. With his now unhooked hand, he turned a tiny knob and switched on the tv. I quietly growled and rolled my eyes when Mal’s face was the first to come onto the screen. With her purple hair replaced by a bleach blonde and King Ben now always attached to her hip, she had faded even more into the fake princess poser act. Just the thought of it alone made me sick. This bleached out, boy crazy bimbo not only gets away with killing an entire island’s worth of innocent young boys, but gets called a hero for it and is on her way to a crown.

Almost immediately after the TV switched on, Uma walked out with a tray of broiled crab legs, small grisly pieces of fried salmon, and tartar sauce that looked like a five year old had wiped their fingers through it. Harry started to chow down, slightly moving his right arm downward to give me room to take a few bites. Uma nudged Harry’s other arm before grabbing a piece of fried fish and chucking it at the screen with an angry shout, aiming directly for Mal’s face. “Poser,” she muttered.

“Traitor!” Harry shouted and chuckled mischievously in response.

“Fucking murderous bitch…” I growled, throwing another piece of fish at the screen. Seconds of silence pass before Uma turns to the rest of the crew sitting at the table with a dangerous glare.

“Hello?!” Uma shouts, causing a storm of screams and flying pieces of fish to fly towards the television. I strut up towards the screen and wipe off a piece of crab with my finger before taking it into my mouth.

“I’d do anything to see her get what she really deserves…”

“Wipe those smiles off their faces...you know what I mean?” Harry finished my previous thought with his own little blurb, leaning his elbow onto the table and returning to the crab on his tray. Uma’s glare seemed to fixate on Gil, who continued to shove pickled egg yolks down his throat as if they were the last thing he’d ever eat.

“Gil.” He looked up at Uma like a confused puppy. “Do you wanna quit choking down yolks and get with the program?” His eyes grew wider in realization.

“Hmm? Yeah, what they said,” Gil mumbled through the food in his mouth.

“That little traitor. Who left us in the dirt.” Uma turned to her crew, riling them up in anger just as she had been since getting with Harry and I.

“Who turned her back on evil,” Harry and I simultaneously added as I swiped a piece of crab from his tray.

“Who said you weren’t big or bad enough to be in her gang!” Only the squawk of a parrot could be heard as Gil practically shouted his response. Despite the tens of glares aiming at him from Uma and the crew, Gil kept going. “Back when we were kids. Come on, you guys remember. She called her Shrimpy and the name just kind of…” Gil’s words began to drift when he made eye contact with Harry, shooting him a scowl strong enough to kill. “..stuck.” Uma sighed and turned to me, placing her hand on my arm.

“That snooty little witch, who grabbed everything she wanted and left me nothing.”

“No, she left you that sandbox, and then she said that you could have the shrimp --” I swiftly interjected Gil’s response, gesturing toward the front doors of the shoppe.

“Do you really want to finish that sentence, Gil?” After switching his glances back and forth between me and the broken green doors, Gil shook his head and continued eating. Harry momentarily stopped eating and gestured toward the restaurant, then the TV.

“Look, we have her turf now. They can stay in Bore-adon--”

“Harry, that’s her turf now!” Uma stomped toward the TV and switched it off, finally ridding our eyes of the bimbo’s plastic face. “And I want it too.”

“She’s got a point, Hooky. We shouldn’t be getting her leftovers. We deserve more than that. We should be over on that island wreaking havoc while she should be here begging the street rats for rotten apples!” Uma smiled before wrapping her arms around Harry, Gil and I.

“Son of Hook, Daughter of Pan, Son of Gaston, and me, most of all, Daughter of Ursula!” I could sense what was coming, and I loved every second of it. Uma turned to me and gently placed her fingers under my chin. “What’s my name?”

“Uma.” My response glistened with admiration and obedience, something I didn’t show often but something I knew she loved. Uma turned to Harry and gripped the arch of his hook, which had since been placed back onto his right hand.

“What’s. My. Name?”

Harry swept off his pirate hat and got down on one knee, as if hailing to his Princess of the sea. “Uma..”

The three of us turned to Gil, hoping he would know the right answer. “What’s my name?”

“Mm. Uma?” Gil was once again caught choking down yolks, but he realized what he was supposed to do.

Uma was an amazing singer and an alluring dancer. So when she brought up the idea to turn her name into an anthem for the crew, I had never been more intrigued and honestly felt a little aroused at the idea. The crew quickly loved it as well, especially Harry. The two of us even made up this little verse that said ‘yeah she’s the Captain and everything, but if you mess with her, you mess with us..and that’s lethal.’ This time, like the other times, the anthem had ended in laughter. The crew was riled up and a bit angry, but in the best way. We were all quickly startled when a long, purple tentacle came railing across the table. We all ducked as Uma jumped to prevent being swept to the ground like a pile of dust. “Shut your clams!” That voice was all too familiar to this crew.

“Mom!” Uma grunted, showing the small part of her that was still young and still a rebellious teenager.

“These dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves!” Some of the pirates, Harry included, were ready to grab their swords from the barrel when Uma shook them off, quickly changing back to her powerful self.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Cause when I get my chance to rain evil down on Auradon, I will take it! They’re gonna forget that girl and remember the name --”

“Shrimpy!” Gil shouts with excitement, pounding the table. After a slight nod from Uma, Harry looks to Gil and begins to lead him out of the restaurant. This had become a usual punishment for when Gil said something a little too dumb, so none of us were too worried about his well being. As Harry led Gil out, I extended my hand to help Uma down from the table.

“Have you thought of it yet?” I walked with Uma to the kitchen, planning to help ease her work load on the dishes.

“Thought of what?”

“Your plan to rain evil down on Auradon, have you thought of it yet?” She shrugged her shoulders and let out a short laugh.

“Maybe not yet...but I’m guessing you have.” I smiled and turned to her, leaning close to whisper to her.

“What if I told you..that we could give the Isle of the Lost a taste of Neverland magic?”

[chrisiscorvus]

I like

How Mac tastic calls one of the Myspace ladies "highyella" (let me holla at yo highyella ass") but he literally looks native American....

[segadoraa]

Blinded Chapter 5: A Time Not Yet Lost

Summary:  Ellana meets with the War Council to determine the Inquisition's next move in the war against Fen'Harel.

Read the rest of the story on AO3.

Back in Skyhold, Ellana had summoned her war council almost immediately. As they entered, she felt a pang—Josephine had dark circles under her eyes, Cullen walked with a slight limp, and Leliana seemed to twitch at the slightest sound. Ellana herself still wore the bloodied armor she had in battle, days previously now. Cassandra, or Divine Victoria rather, had returned promptly to the Winter Palace to address the Chantry. She tried to quash her desperate desire to take a bath as well as her guilt for summoning her exhausted crew. They did not know when Solas would move forward and they needed to be on the same page in case disaster struck.

“My apologies for requesting your presence this soon after we have returned,” she began. “I fear we do not have much time before our enemy makes his next move and, at this point, there are several things we need to agree upon in order to confirm our next move.”

“No need for apologies, Inquisitor,” replied Josephine. “You are correct, we should meet. Leliana, have you further considered expanding our council outside this room?”

“I have considered it—”

“Hold on,” Cullen interjected, cutting Leliana off. “We are moving forward with our contingency plan just like that? I think we need to first agree that there is nothing left to be done about…?” he trailed off, meeting Ellana’s gaze. She opened her mouth to explain, but Leliana beat her to it.

“What more can we do?” Leliana stepped an inch closer to Ellana’s left side, shielding her slightly from the Commander’s gaze. “We’ve combatted his forces at every turn and we’ve come up short. We’ve gained as much power and knowledge as we could, but now he has what he needs. If Ellana herself could not change the mind of Fen’Harel, who could? We need to assume our enemy means to act, and soon.” Cullen withdrew slightly and dropped his gaze, not meeting her eye.

“Perhaps we have not yet exhausted our assets,” he suggested, cocking his head toward Ellana, his gaze still lowered. “Inquisitor, are you certain we have no tools left at our disposal to use against our enemy? He might respond to… unexpected advances more positively than what we’ve tried thus far.”

Ellana pushed her breath slowly through her teeth as Leliana sucked hers in quickly.

“Commander,” her tone was reprimanding and Ellana glanced at her gratefully, “You were not at the camp when Ellana returned from our enemy’s clutches, but I was. I am not faulting you,” she added, after Cullen opened his mouth to argue, “Your soldiers needed your leadership. However, you did not see the state the Inquisitor was in when she returned to us. I truly believe we have exhausted any resistance we have against both Fen’Harel and Solas at this point, and it would be wise to move forward from here, to spare ourselves any further setbacks.”

Ellana, slightly abashed at the comment on her conduct, sent a small smile toward Leliana. She was grateful for not having to argue her perspective with Cullen. She gazed back at him and noticed his slight blush before he shuffled around the table.

“Very well,” he said, resigning. He lifted his sad eyes to meet Ellana’s gaze. “I do trust you, and I trust the report I read. I just needed to be certain. It is a grave fate we commit ourselves to now.”

Ellana regarded him a moment before he broke away from her focus. She sensed a twinge of—what? Regret? Longing?

“I agree with Cullen,” Josephine piped up, regarding him curiously. “We should be sure there is nothing else to be done before we accept what we must do now.”

All eyes turned toward Ellana. She did her best not to stagger as their stares and the collective weight of their dependence on her hit her like a mind blast. She knew as well as they did that what they would do next was solely her decision. She felt another part of her break under the weight. Once, she would have sought out Solas, who somehow had a way of lifting the heaviness she felt and making her feel reassured. Now, she must press on alone and find the strength he once gave within herself.

Shuffling her feet slightly, but not dropping her eyes, she sighed.

“I assure you, every strategy we have discussed has been attempted,” she addressed them all, praying that she exuded all the calm and confidence that she did not feel. “We must move forward; if any words or actions were to change Fen’Harel, they have already come to pass and he has not wavered. We mustn’t either. With this plan, we are one step ahead of him for the first time. If we want it to remain that way, we cannot delay.”

With this, Cullen clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. Josephine gave a curt nod and a small smile, raising her notes, ready to act. Leliana glanced sideways at her, but said nothing. The floor still belonged to Ellana.

“Leliana, is there anyone else we should invite to join us before continuing our talks?”

“I have considered this and, yes, I think we would benefit greatly by extending our reach. I’ll send word,” she excused herself and Josephine followed. Cullen and Ellana remained, avoiding each other’s eyes.

There had been a time, before Ellana was the Inquisitor, before they had sealed the breach in the sky, before Skyhold and Solas, when she had sought Cullen out in his quarters, wondering aloud what her place in the world was and where to go from here. She had been terrified and he had always seemed so sure, so she sought him out. To her surprise, she had found him trembling and afraid—the same way she felt. They had found comfort in each other’s embrace for just that night. After, it was as if nothing had happened. If there were any longing glances or lingering emotion, Ellana had missed it altogether, and things soon went back to normal. That is, until about a month previously, at a particularly heated war council meeting where they had fought over what to do about Fen’Harel’s betrayal. His words had stung, and Ellana remembered them now.  

“Are we just going to sit around and pretend there was nothing special, nothing intimate about the relationship between our dear Inquisitor and Fen’Harel? Or, should I say, Solas?” Ellana was taken aback at his words—they had been careful to avoid suspicion.

“Commander!” It was Josephine who defended her this time. She regarded it as an inopportune moment to reveal their knowledge of Ellana’s alleged triste.

“I know, I know! We all agreed not to discuss it! But do we not agree that such a connection could benefit us if it were exploited? I’ve seen what the Inquisitor can do and, trust me, she is lethal with more than her bow.”

He had done his best to maintain an air of nonchalance at the time, but Ellana knew her face had burned at the weight of his implications. He had played the part of the dutiful commander and he had performed well, considering the circumstances. He had never requested much from Ellana besides the direction and encouragement he needed after he had decided to withdraw from his use of lyrium.

Now, Ellana recognized regret and hurt on the face of the man standing before her.

“Cullen,” she said in a low voice, “I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me nothing, Inquisitor. You’ve saved us and all of Thedas. I’m grateful for your strength and your influence.” His response was rehearsed, stoic, and insincere. He stared straight ahead, as a soldier would when addressing his superior. She stepped around the war table, then rested against it, just a few paces from where he stood at attention. She fixed her gaze on his boots.

“I’m not addressing Commander Rutherford. You may stand down. I’m addressing you as a man, Cullen. I am sorry. You must think I’m a fool, and you are certainly right. I’ve been foolish in many respects.”

He did not answer for a while and regarded her curiously. She felt the heat in her face, but she did not lift her head to meet his eye. Her throat burned with embarrassment and emotion. Cullen, along with the rest of the Inquisition, had placed his complete trust in her and her misguided faith in the apostate mage. She had cost them everything. She acted like a lovesick child—so sure of herself and her feelings. The weight of Solas’s betrayal was now hers to bear. How could anyone trust her to lead them now?

Cullen let out a sigh and softened slightly.

“I do not think you are a fool,” he finally said, gently. “I do not pretend to understand the workings of your heart Inquis—” he corrected himself, “Ellana. Or his for that matter, but given everything that has happened, you have never given me a reason not to trust you. I will still follow where you lead and, if I have ever let my emotions get the best of me, then I’m the one who should apologize.”

She met his gaze at that—his eyes were full and a concerned frown furrowed his brow. She made to reach out for his hand, but, at that moment, Leliana and Josephine re-entered the room, followed by Dorian, Iron Bull, Vivienne, Blackwall, Sera, and Varric, who was accompanied by Hawke and a Dalish elf Ellana did not recognize. She met Ellana’s eye when she entered and a small smile crossed her face before she shuffled around Varric to stand slightly behind him at the table.

Their small war room had never been so full. She regarded her friends and the newcomers as they took in their surroundings. Blackwall kicked at a small stone by his feet and kept his gaze down. Dorian lounged next to Bull in the corner, his posture relaxed, but his eyes darted around the room. Vivienne seemed as comfortable as she ever did, with her back straight and her chin lifted. She regarded Ellana with a cool disdain—they had often disagreed about Ellana’s decisions, but she had stayed and supported the Inquisition, nonetheless.

Her eyes rested on Varric, who quirked a half-smile and tilted his head toward the room. She tried to smile back and shrugged slightly, searching for what she would say to address her new war council. Varric beat her to it.

“So,” she said, leaning forward against the table, “assuming we aren’t all here because Chuckles has had a sudden change of heart and has decided not to destroy the world, let me introduce my friend, Merrill.”

[shiroslefttesticle]

Sweetheart, good luck with the new blog? May I ask for headcanons of the male paladins with a female reader who is insecure about her appearance? Have a great day UvU

Hey love, thank you so much! Like you asked I did all of the male paladins but if there’s anyone that someone wants to be added, feel free to send in another request and I’ll edit them in.

Shiro

Shiro isn’t a stranger when it comes to being insecure about your appearance.

He’s probably still adjusting to his arm and he has a lot of various scars from all the battles he gets into.

So when he hears that you’re insecure about your appearance? Honestly, his heart breaks a little.

You’re the one truly good thing he has amidst all the chaos going on and to hear that you don’t view yourself as beautiful makes him a bit upset.

Despite having personal experience with insecurities, he might not be 100% sure what to do for you at first.

So he talks. And Shiro is an excellent speaker.

The way he talks doesn’t make it sound like he’s forcing himself to come up with compliments, it sounds so genuine and sincere that you probably tear up a bit.

He keeps a close eye on you after you talk to him the first time.

Anytime he notices that you seem to feel a little down, he’s there to reassure you that you are stunning inside and out.

He’s not huge on PDA but if you’re with all the other crew members or on an alien planet trying to promote diplomacy and he notices that you’re kind of hiding yourself he’ll do little things to help.

Like hold your hand and do that thing where he squeezes lightly and runs his thumb back and forth.

Or wrap his arm around your waist so he can hold you close to him.

It helps quell your insecurities, at least for the time being.

If you two are alone, sitting in the common room, he’ll have you lay across his lap or rest your head on his shoulder just so that he can feel you close to him and vice versa.

He’ll stroke your cheek with his thumb or something while you two talk about whatever you want and he subtly slips in compliments every so often.

Y/n: “That alien banquet we went to the other night was a lot of fun.”

Shiro: “It was, and you looked absolutely beautiful too.”

If you’re really adamant about changing yourself because you’re insecure about your weight or something, he’ll help you train more.

He makes sure you don’t injure or push yourself too hard.

It can also be super motivating to have a workout buddy.

Plus sometimes he might be prone to *ahem* a little hands on adjustment when you’re stretching and that certainly doesn’t feel bad ;))

With all the extra time you two start putting into training, not only do you look and feel great, but you two become absolutely lethal on the battlefield and if that isn’t workout motivation already, I don’t know what is.

He just wants you to be happy and he’s so so supportive of anything you feel you need to do to achieve that as long as it’s safe.

Lance

This boy is floored? How could you not like your appearance??? He thinks you’re a goddess.

We’ve all seen the various creatures that Lance has crushed on, he really does not give a fuck about traditional human beauty standards.

He’s willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better about yourself, whether that’s neverending words of praise or an impromptu DIY spa day.

Seriously, if you’re feeling insecure over acne or something else skin related, he’ll whip you up a special face mask and let you wear his robe while he applies a hair mask on you.

He probably gives you his headphones so you can listen to some relaxing music.

If music isn’t your thing, he’ll talk to you. This boy has conversation topics for days.

He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you with compliments because he’s aware that not everyone is comfortable with receiving a bunch at once but he does make sure that he points out specific parts of your body that he really likes.

Which is everything.

By the end of your spa session, you’re going to be so pampered and relaxed and will probably smell like a flower shop. Insecurity who?? I don’t know her.

Lance already complimented you normally throughout the day on small things.

It was mostly through cheesy pickup lines tbh.

Lance, looking at you during training: “Hey babe are you wearing space pants? Because your ass is out of this world.” *finger guns before getting knocked over by Pidge.*

But now he steps up the compliments.

Congrats, Lance is your personal hype man.

Seriously, you doing anything, no matter how small the task, results in Lance complimenting you.

You kicked ass during training? Compliments.

You helped Hunk make food? Compliments.

You’re just chilling in the common room? Compliments.

If you’re uncomfortable with receiving a whole bunch of attention at once, Lance will wait until the end of the day, when you two are alone, to tell you everything he thought about you during the day.

This is probably the best time tbh because the two of you are probably just curled up next to each other in bed or sitting on his floor next to each other playing video games and it’s just so personal.

His voice is probably quieter than usual since it’s just you two and it’s the end of the day, so you have to lean in a tiny a bit to hear him.

It’s just so soft and serene??? I’m blushing.

Keith

When he hears about your insecurities, he’s conflicted.

On one hand, he’s willing to do anything to help end those thoughts.

On the other hand, he has no idea what he should do.

He’s not much of a talker but he is a fantastic listener.

He’d totally be down to just sit with you and listen as you vent about your feelings and insecurities.

Unless he’s feeling particularly passionate, don’t expect a sudden downpour of compliments from him.

If he is feeling passionate though, he’ll give you a long-winded speech about how everything, everything about you is gorgeous, from the way your lips curl up when you smile to even the way you walk.

Like I said though, these speeches are rare (mostly because he’ll get flustered and start blushing not even midway through) and will only ever happen in private.

He will try to go out of his way to compliment you more often though if that’s what you want.

At first, they’ll probably sound a little awkward because they’ll happen sporadically and will sound totally out of place but he’s trying.

As time goes on though, he begins to get the hang of it and the compliments sound better and have better timing.

He also tries to up his physical affection.

Nothing too wild, but he’ll hold your hand, gently pat your shoulder when you pass each other in the halls, quick pecks on the cheek/forehead/lips/etc.

If it’s just you two (or even just the other paladins once he truly gets comfortable) he’ll hold you close to him whenever you two are sitting with each other.

When you’re completely alone he’ll take advantage of this position to whisper small compliments in your ear or vent about his own day to distract you.

If you’re around the other paladins, he’ll just sit quietly and maybe stroke your arm.

When this first happened, Lance took the opportunity to try to tease Keith until Keith delivered a one-sentence roast so hot, Lance nearly die on the spot.

Lance left Keith alone after that.

If you’re having a particularly bad day, he’ll ask if you want to spar with him.

He doesn’t do it with the intention of promoting weight loss and releasing endorphins but if that does happen, then hey, that’s a total bonus.

He offers to spar because he knows that training helps him take his mind off the things that trouble him and he hopes that it’ll have that same effect on you.

If sparring isn’t your thing and you just want to stay in your room, he’ll bring you everything you need.

An extra soft blanket? Check.

You need some water? Check.

You just want to lay in bed quietly next to him? Check!

Overall, Keith might be a little awkward at first but as time goes on he’ll get the hang of things and gradually your insecurities will begin to dissipate.

Hunk

You’re probably sitting on one of the kitchen counters while Hunk is busy baking when you ask if he thinks you’re pretty.

At first Hunk doesn’t think he heard you right.

I mean what kind of question is that? Of course he thinks you’re pretty!

You kind of just shrug at his response and he decides he should press you more on the subject.

When you open up about all of your insecurities, Hunk is shocked because he thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the universe and he genuinely doesn’t understand how you can interpret anything you see in the mirror to be less than that.

He invites you to cook with him as he personally finds the motions of cooking (kneading dough, stirring batter) to be therapeutic and relaxing and allow him to work through his emotions.

He’s giving you such a hopeful look that you can’t say no and you find that he’s right. Before you even realize it, you’re opening up about everything that’s bothering you.

During this time he’ll be listening intently, occasionally interjecting if what you’re saying is too ridiculous, but he won’t stop your venting.

Instead, he will wait until you’ve said everything you wanted and then he’ll list all of his favorite things about you.

He knows that believing the bad stuff is easier than believing the good stuff so he’ll make sure to also throw in some compliments about you outside of your appearance, like about the stuff you excel at, whether that’s training, programming, cooking, or even something like cleaning the healing pods. He does this so that even if you don’t listen to his compliments on your appearance, you might listen to the compliments about your talents and can use them as a stepping stone to becoming more confident.

At the end of all this, you feel a bit better AND you have a nice batch of freshly made cookies, not the scaultrite ones, he learned his lesson.

Hunk is an A+ listener and is always down to listen to you vent when you need it.

But he makes sure that you know he thinks you’re beautiful.

Every compliment he gives you is overflowing with sincerity.

If you want to try changing your diet, Hunk will support you and make different healthy recipes until you find a few that you enjoy.

He’ll go out of his way to find weird space fruits for you too if you want some to snack on. 

Even if you don’t want to change your diet, he’ll always invite you to be in the kitchen with him, even if you just sit on the counters while he does all the cooking.

As a result, the kitchen kind of becomes a safe space for you two and anytime you need to open up about something, you typically do it in the kitchen.

He has the most perfect arms to cuddle into if you need physical reassurance.

Truly those arms are one of his best features. Buff and strong but soft and warm at the same time.

You won’t even have to ask for physical reassurance, he already does it naturally.

Hunk is a very intuitive guy so he knows when you’re feeling down, even if you haven’t talked about it, and he is always ready to comfort you and silence any insecurities you might be facing.