#reasons to keep your armor on obes

[obiscribbles]

Week 32 - November 5th, 2023 'Money Honey' - State Of Shock Spotify / YouTube

He is tired XD

“Sorry Commander, I know you don’t like it when I risk my life, but I’m afraid I will not be stopping so long as my risk means less loss for everyone else.”

"..."

Enjoy!

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[zablife]

A Great Legacy

Tommy Shelby x female reader

Summary: When the master of the house makes a strange request in the wake of his wife's death, it tests the loyalty you hold for the family.

A/N: Requested by the lovely @thomasshelbyswife.

Warnings: dark!Tommy, manipulation, forced pregnancy

One night was what he'd promised and so you agreed to a lovely evening of seduction that lasted until the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. It was the heady delight of him proclaiming he hadn't felt this way since Grace that caused you to cave to his desires. You would have agreed to anything, but he only desired to claim you with his seed. "I want all of you," he'd whispered in your ear as he filled you and somehow you'd trusted him.

His late wife had never fallen pregnant so you weren't concerned. Not to mention the fact that you'd only spent one night together. However, you realized your folly as your stomach rapidly swelled.

When Mary informed Mr. Shelby of your condition, he hadn't reacted as you imagined. The imposing gangster was kind and gentle toward you, offering his aid as silent confirmation of his knowledge. You were relieved of any strenuous duties and allowed to remain at Arrow House as long as you wished.

When you thought the time was right, you approached him to express your gratitude and assure him you'd be gone after you'd given birth. However, it was not the conversation you'd been expecting. "This is precisely what I wanted," Mr. Shelby confided.

"You invited me into your bed hoping for this?" you asked uncertainly, gesturing toward your abdomen. How could someone as powerful and handsome as Thomas Shelby OBE want someone as inconsequential as a parlor maid?

"You'll be a wonderful mother," he assured you, the smile gracing his lips never quite reaching his eyes.

You nodded, politely accepting the compliment, while wondering how he would know that about you. You'd rarely spoken in the two years you'd worked for him.

Mr. Shelby's strange behavior continued as your pregnancy progressed. He began posting armored guards around the property all hours of the day and night. When you asked him about this, he brushed off your concerns. "I'm an important man, can't be too careful," he explained.

His reasoning seemed plausible until you were no longer allowed to roam the grounds freely. In fact, if you so much as touched a toe to the threshold of the door, you were harshly scolded for forgetting your impending due date. "Wouldn't want you having Mr. Shelby's son in a pasture now would we?" his men chided in a condescending tone.

You tried to cut roses from the garden once, but Mary intercepted you, a thunderous look settling over her brow. It was enough to keep you confined to your room, reading and sewing to pass the hours until the day you went into labor.

The morning had passed slowly after breakfast, your tired limbs struggling under the weight of your belly as you climbed the stairs. When you'd finally settled at the small desk by the window, a sharp pain erupted at your side. Running a hand across the taut flesh, you whimpered in pain at what you believed to be a sharp kick.

As the pain grew, you couldn't help the scream that ripped from your lungs, alerting the maids who would carry news to Tommy. You couldn't recall how long you'd been doubled over before he rushed to your side, a look of excitement burning in his blue eyes. "It's time," he declared with such exultation, you couldn't help but be buoyed by it.

As your labor progressed, you felt encouraged by the support he'd shown, recalling his joyous expression as you attempted to push. When you finally heard your baby scream, you fell back onto the sweat soaked pillow, comforted by the thought of Tommy's approval.

You heaved for breath as he entered the room to meet his child, raising your trembling body to watch him interact with the tiny bundle the doctor cradled in his arms. Tommy readily accepted the babe, fingers carefully pushing the blanket aside to view the blue eyed cherub, his perfect replica. Smiling to yourself, you felt a peaceful calm wash over you, father and child studying one another in the sweetest silence. But the moment was short lived, the doctor leaning in conspiratorially to whisper something into Tommy's ear.

"That can't be," Tommy replied sharply, head snapping toward you with murderous intent.

"Wh-what's happening?" you asked, struggling to keep your eyes open after your strenuous effort, but you swiftly lost the battle.

When you awoke, your baby was gone. You scrambled from the bed to search for her despite your weakness, only able to reach the landing before you stumbled.

"The mother died in childbirth," Mary explained as she gave your daughter to the nun waiting in the foyer.

"I'm here...I'm..." you croaked before fainting.

The next thing you remembered was Tommy's face hovering over yours. "You've had a shock," he explained.

"They took...my...baby," you faltered, head throbbing and mouth feeling so dry you could barely speak.

"The child was too weak to survive. Passed away in the night, I'm afraid," Tommy said in an even voice, devoid of any emotion.

"It's not true. She was taken," you shouted at him.

Tommy asked the maids to leave, moving to your side as they exited the room in hushed whispers.

"What did you expect, it was a girl," Tommy spat in disgust.

"I don't understand, she was healthy...perfect," you objected, before the tears began flowing down your cheeks.

"But not a boy," Tommy declared pointedly. "I want someone to carry my name."

As you struggled to accept his acidic tone, he pointed a finger at you menacingly. "Two months," he pronounced, remembering the doctor's warning about miscarriage. "Then we'll try again. Perhaps this time you'll give me the son I desire."

Breath stolen from your lungs you watched him storm from the room, the door slamming against the frame from the force of his movements. It was shameful and humiliating, but the fear blooming in your chest was greater as you wondered how many times you would be asked to endure this for the sake of his legacy.

-----------------------

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[darkpoisonouslove]

One Beating Love

Summary: There are a million differences between them, a million obstacles that they have to overcome every day just to be together. Marion can’t mind too much when it makes their love feel that much stronger – the most powerful force in the universe. Vampire AU.

Femslash February Day 4 - Please, be gentle

All I have is a little bit of reimagined vampire lore and a power trip to inflict on the characters and I’m gonna make it everybody’s problem.

CW: mentions of blood

AO3 | FFN

The pulse thundering in Marion’s ears drowned out the heavy steps of the guards climbing the stairs. The alarmed shout breaking through it made her jump.

Underneath the metallic ringing of armor colliding with the solid floor was a heavier smash of wood into marble. The long crate skidded forward, dragging with its momentum the rest of the guards that were still holding it.

Marion raised a hand instinctively before she remembered herself and shook the embers of magic off her knuckles.

She tried to wrestle her voice into something that didn’t spell out her annoyance with capital letters, “Please, be gentle.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.”

Through the cluster of bodies she noticed a guard bowing his head as two other men supported him until he was steady on his feet. Then they moved into formation again and resumed their task.

Only when they picked up the crate again, the motion hit her with the realization she was holding her breath. If any of them paid any mind to the lack of her usual offer of magical assistance where mishaps happened, they didn’t comment on it. Not one of them complained or suggested there were other methods of transportation she could have used, especially for a cargo so precious.

She released a sigh as inconspicuously as possible. Any sign of lacking mindless obedience would give Griffin reason to unleash her full arsenal of abilities to ensure their unquestioning cooperation.

The rest of the short distance to Marion’s bedchamber offered no opportunities for disaster and soon the crate was set carefully next to the bed. Marion thanked the guards and sent them away without giving them the chance to offer assistance with opening it for her.

She could accomplish that in under a second with her magic but it took her a solid five minutes to unlatch the metal locks keeping the contents for her eyes only. The lid of the coffin was twice as heavy as that of the crate but she was used to the weight. She helped Griffin with it every evening, took special care to never be late and miss it. She set aside enough time when she had to teleport to let the magic wear off her skin before touching any of Griffin’s belongings, let alone Griffin herself.

Colorful lilies lined the length of Griffin’s body. Some rested in her hands like a bouquet she was embracing. The faint scent of fresh soil mixed with their perfume, the familiarity of it calming to Marion’s high-strung nerves. It was every bit as alluring an invitation to slip next to Griffin as her pretend slumber but she restrained herself.

The flowers were frozen in time–just like Griffin–but the magic soaking them would not extend to protection from crushing. They were the only thing allowing Griffin to travel via aircraft – so far removed from the earth where her lifeless body belonged. Just the smell of soil with barely an ounce of it in total sticking to the flowers would not be enough of an anchor for most vampires but Griffin’s lilies were special – grown in the garden of her childhood home and tying her to the memory, the essence of her that still lived there.

Replacing them would take too much effort. Marion only allowed herself to gently stroke a petal with her fingertip.

The caress soon trailed over Griffin’s hand – freezing under her heated touch. The contrast between them was so stunning, hit her with the full force of their strife to defy the whole universe coming between them. Her head swam as if she were drunk just from the simple touch of their skin. Weaving through obstacles in flight, the full strength of her wings carrying her, couldn’t even compare to that rush.

“You are aware, of course, that there are other options that would allow smoother transportation,” she let her fingers wander the length of Griffin’s arm, curious to see how long it would take for her to employ her superhuman strength and have Marion pinned to the bed.

Only Griffin’s lips moved, eyes still closed in stubbornness, “As well as you’re aware that my powers of persuasion only allow me to control people.”

Control wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be but Marion found it hard to protest when Griffin’s need for it melted away at the barest of touches from her hand in a loud declaration of trust. Lying in her coffin as if she were truly dead and leaving herself in Marion’s care went even beyond that.

Using robotic assistance was not worth the unknown variables just to supposedly reduce inconveniences. And if one of those was how susceptible human minds and necks were to Griffin’s abilities, then Marion would just have to remember the sacrifices she’d made for her title, which far outweighed those she was making for the sake of happiness. It was better than Griffin’s existence being streamed to a network even her power couldn’t take down.

“You’re the one who insisted that I come with,” Griffin’s fingers intercepted Marion’s as she fished for an admission of Marion’s weakness for her.

Marion laced their fingers together. “Oh, you made your disagreement crystal clear. I was considering turning to tranquilizers in order to survive that confrontation. The words “summer palace” alone had you foaming at the mouth.”

Griffin, possessed by a sense of indignation at Marion’s jest, sat up in a flash. Her face was close enough that its unnatural chill slipped under Marion’s skin.

She didn’t pull away, grounded in Griffin’s proximity. They shared a smile over it.

“Normally, I’d be flattered that you’d go over all this trouble just to have me by your side even during the hours I spend sleeping. I couldn’t help the feeling that you didn’t want to leave me unsupervised with a palace full of people I could feed on, though,” her voice was light and she raised an eyebrow in a challenge for Marion to dispute her point.

“What is it like to drink from only one person?” The realization that she’d never asked before wrapped around Marion’s throat akin to panic. “Do you miss the varying tastes of different blood?”

Her heart had to be like a siren blaring in Griffin’s ears with how hard it was pounding. She was sure the distinct impression that she’d always feared the answer had come across to Griffin as well.

“I do,” Griffin’s honesty was unshakable. “But that’s nothing compared to the experience of drinking from you.”

Griffin’s lips brushed against Marion’s pulse point–between the wounds left from her fangs–and the gasp falling from her curled them in a smirk.

Marion’s hand wove into Griffin’s hair to keep her in place, keep both of them in place. Imagining Griffin’s lips on someone else’s neck, her breath teasing their skin, was enough to set her blood on fire, spark up the magic in her veins. She’d be the one sabotaging herself then with her holy power meant to repel undead creatures that moved outside its scope.

Every living thing had an internal flame imbuing it with cosmic energy; everything could be traced to the same primordial power. Everything except for the love of her life. One spark from Marion’s fingertips could incinerate them both.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to be gentle?” Griffin’s fangs scratched lines over Marion’s throat but she was just playing.

Her fangs never sank a hair’s breadth to the side, always in the same two spots she’d carved for herself into Marion’s being. She always heeded the grip of Marion’s hands on her shoulders like gospel. Marion could find herself irritated from having to urge her to drink more if watching Griffin lick her blood off her lips before leaning closer again wasn’t transfixing, erotic.

“I was rather considering asking you the opposite.”

She pulled on Griffin’s hair to tip her head back and capture her into a kiss, have Griffin’s fangs scraping against her tender lips. Gentleness was the last thing on her mind at the powerful taste of this vulnerability between them, intimacy. Griffin drank from her blood without fearing it could turn to poison in her mouth any second and Marion let her with the full knowledge that if Griffin didn’t stop herself, she could very well be powerless before her.

They were made to be each other’s death. But who could kill her with her unmatched power and her immortal lover when they shared a heart and blood and life?

[witch-off]

This is my first Boba Fett fanfiction, so I think it would be fit as my first work here on Tumbrl. Please, be aware that English is not my native language, so there may some grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy my work and thank you for reading.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Boba Fett x (F)Reader

Synopsis: In the dunes of Tatooine hides a runaway princess. She walks through the shadows, fearing to be found. Every night she watches the two suns set on the horizon, keeping her eyes open to anyone in search of her. But eventually a certain bounty hunter, with his green beskar armor, finds her and she will need to try everything to save her life.

TW: Mild violence, talk about past sexual abuse (There’s no in-depth description and nothing too graphic happens). Please, let me know if I forgot something.

Obs: The cover was made by my lovely friend @outer-rim-chronicles​, go check his work if you are interested in his art.

Obs 2: The cover image is for illustrative purposes only. The protagonist in this fanfiction is not described with any specific appearance, having hair as the only pre-established trait.

Chapter One

The mornings in the cantina were always slow. People wouldn't start showing up until after noon, so the place was empty. At least you could organize the bar while you were alone.

You liked Tatooine. Even though it was a lot hotter than you were used to, and the locals could have a tough temper. But the money you made working as a bartender was enough to support you, and you weren’t interested in making friends anyway. In the end it was all worth it, because the best part was that no one would go looking for you in there. Well…until now.

You finish cleaning the last glass, placing it on the counter. The air was hot and heavy, causing a light layer of sweat to form on your skin. You were on that planet long enough to know that a sandstorm was approaching. You lower yourself to tidy up the bottom shelf, humming quietly, until you hear the main door open and close. A new client had arrived.

"Welcome!" You talk from behind the counter, still lowered "I'll see you in a minute."

The sound of slow and heavy steps reverberates across the stone floor, but they stop abruptly and soon everything is bathing in silence. You don't hear an answer or the sound of a creaking chair signaling that the customer has sat down. “Strange”, you think to yourself.

You finally get up, wiping your hands in the apron tied around your waist. "Thank you for waiti-" You start to say but you’re suddenly speechless when your eyes land on the man standing just a few inches away from you. Your heart starts to beat rapidly against your ribcage and your legs tremble. Oh, no. No no no no.

In front of you, brandishing a full armor, is Boba Fett. All your instincts screamed for you to react. GET OUT, RUN, DO ANYTHING! But your feet were stuck on the ground, you felt like a frozen animal in the headlights. The voice of reason on the back of your head tried to speak louder "He is not here for you.” "Act naturally and he won’t notice anything.” “Calm down and serve something to him."

"How can I help you?" You ask, forcing your best smile.

"Spotchka" Is the only thing he says, but a shiver runs through your skin when his thick, low voice fills the air. For your misfortune he decided to sit in one of the chairs in front of the bar instead of occupying a more distant table.

You try to act normal, despite the fact that your hands are shaking while your pour the drink in his glass. You are not able to see his face, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching your every move. You can almost feel his eyes burning your skin from behind the cold visor of his helmet.

"What brings you to Tatooine?" You talk in the same regular tone that you use to the costumes, handing the glass to him.

"Bounty." Well, it´s make sense. Boba Fett is one of the biggest bounty hunters in the galaxy, there are even some rumors about him having invaded Jabba's palace and becoming the new king of crime, but you're not really sure if that's true.

"Having trouble finding your target?" You try not to sound too interested.

"For a while yes. But now I finally managed to locate it." You feel a cold sweat running down your forehead when you realize that he makes no mention of drinking the spotchka, just tracing slow circles in the mouth of the cup with his gloved finger.

"Hope you succeed in your hunt.” You mumble, your hand beginning to move slowly to one of the bottles on the bottom shelves of the bar. In a quick motion he leans over the counter and grabs your wrist, his fingers sinking in your skin. A frightened scream leaves your lips as you try to get loose from his grasp.

"You've given me a lot of trouble, little girl." His squeezes harder, making you yelp in pain "Or should I say... Princess?" Your instincts scream louder than your fear and you finally can move. Your other hand grabs the glass over the counter and smashes the object against his helmet. Pieces of glass fly everywhere, and you can feel some shards penetrating your hand and face, but there's no time to lose. He can’t see through the spotchka covering his visor, so you are able to free yourself.

Before your mind can reason, you're already running to the back exit. You didn't have time to unlock the door, it always ended up getting stuck and you couldn't give him a chance to catch up with you. The old thing was worn out enough that the impact of your body against the metal surface gave way with just one try.

You stumbled, trying not to fall while the side of your body throbbed in pain, but in a split second you were already running. Your feet seemed to have a life of their own as they guided you without a specific trajectory. You just needed to move, go in any direction that keeps you away from him.

Unfortunately, Boba Fett was more prepared than you. It didn’t take long for him to catch up with you, knocking you down and pressing you against the ground. The sand moved beneath you, sticking to your sweaty skin. You cried, trying to fight him, but the bounty hunter was much stronger. Some people around watched in silence with curious eyes. Scenes like that were common in Tatooine, but no one tries to help, it’s not smart to stand between a predator and its prey.

With ease, Boba Fett gets on top of you, holding your wrists above your head with just one hand, while the other moved into his back pocket to grab a pair of handcuffs. "You really are a tameless little thing, aren't you, Princess?" he laughs cruelly. If he handcuffed you that would be the end, you needed to do something. Luckily, your legs weren't immobilized.

In a desperate move, you knee him in the groin. He stops suddenly, letting out a painful noise. His hold on you eases and, using all your strength, you’re able to push him out of you. Boba Fett loses his balance, and this time, he’s the one falling to the ground with a grunt.

With your hands free, you crawled and got up again. If you could only get close to a speeder, maybe you could have a chance. You couldn't go back. You would rather die.

You only managed to take a few steps before something curled around your heels, making you fall face down into the sand. You look over your shoulder and you see a cable around your legs, you follow the rope with your eyes until you realize it's connected to a whipcord thrower mounted on the bounty hunter’s wrist. Then he starts pulling you towards him.

You scream and stir, but in the end that's useless. Soon you're at his feet, lying on your stomach, like an animal caught in a trap. Before you can do anything, something stings the skin of your neck, making you whimper in pain.

"That was harder than I expected" He seems to be complaining more to himself then to you.

Even though you're not handcuffed, you can't muster the strength to get up. Your body feels too heavy and it’s starting to get harder and harder to keep your eyes open. You have no idea what he injected on you, but it's starting to make you dizzy. The last thing you see before passing out is his visor staring back at you.

--

The first thing you feel before you open your eyes is the cold durastel floor against your cheek. The world seems to spin as you try to raise yourself. You don’t recognize the place you are in, but the handcuff around your wrists and the bars on the wall in front of you make you believe you're in a cell. You allow yourself to lie on the floor again. You notice that the shard of glass had been removed from your hands and face, but your body was aching and bruised.

You sigh tired, feeling your eyes fill with tears. It was the end, you had been captured and now you were trapped in a dirty cell on that damn bounty hunter's ship, being dragged back to your father. The despair in your heart subsides for a few seconds when you realize that the ship was not moving. Instead of the soft noise of hyperspace you were listening to the familiar sound of sand hitting a surface and the loud howl of the wind.

A sandstorm. You were sure of it, you listened to all those sounds filling your little room in the silent of the night. You were still in Tatooine, unable to leave the planet because of the storm.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear footsteps against the metal floor. Boba Fett stopped in front of your cell holding a plate of food and a glass.

"Eat." He orders as he passes the food through a hole between the bars. You look at the meal in front of you for a few seconds without getting close.

"Let me go." Your voice comes out strangled, almost like a whimper, and you feel pathetic "Please. I-I can pay you, more than my father is paying... and-I-". He simply hums at you, unmoved by what you’re saying, "You can't pay me, Princess. If you really had credits, you wouldn't be working in that dirty cantina."

You purse your lips, trying to keep your tears from falling. "Eat." He says again. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes dart to the food on the plate and then back at him. "I’m not going to eat that. You could have poisoned the food."

He grunts impatiently. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, but I'd rather starve to death."

Fett sighs and you are sure that he is rolling his eyes under the helmet. "Your father told me to give you special treatment, Princess. And let’s face it, I’m being really reasonable after that low blow of yours."

You can’t help the little smirk that form on your lips. “Well, it's not my fault you weren't wearing a codpiece.” The comment just makes him look more impatient, but you keep staring back at him in silence with a frown. If it weren't for the handcuffs, you'd be crossing your arms.

"Maker. How stubborn you are." He lifts his helmet just a little, allowing you to see only part of his face. You got a glimpse of his dark skin marked by scars as he eats some of the food and gives a small sip of the cup. The helmet returns to place immediately after that. "All right. Satisfied? I'm not trying to poison you."

Your belly growls loudly and you're pretty sure he could hear it too. You didn't even realize how hungry you were until now. You pull the plate closer to you and starts devouring the meal quickly.

The rush ends up making you choke, coughing a few times before drinking the glass of water with big gulps.

"Hey, take it slow.” His voice has a slight touch of humor, you almost can picture the smug look in his face. "Your father wants you alive and I don't want to have to do mouth-to-mouth on you."

"In your dreams, bucket head." You mumble, but you start chewing slower, just in case.

The silent is heavy as you finish eating. It feels awkward. You don’t really know what to say next. All the years you spent learning social etiquette made you want to thank him. “Thank you for the lovely meal you served me after kidnapping me, Mr. Fett.” You almost laughed at the idea.

"Have you contacted my father?" You ask him, filing the uncomfortable silence with your voice. He doesn't tell you, but the answer is probably no. The sandstorms block any signal. You remember that you couldn’t tune into any channel of the holonet during the smallest sandstorms. Then maybe you still had a chance.

"I can be useful to you." Fett still quiet, just watching you. "I may not have credits, but I can serve you. I've heard rumors of how you broke into the Hutt's palace and deposed Bib Fortuna." Your hands grab the bars of the cell, and you get a few inches closer. "I can speak more than ten languages, I can be your translator, or interpreter, whatever you want. I've been trained my whole life to know how to rule an empire. Give me a chance and I'd be your perfect assistant.”

"Here's the thing..." He finally speaks as his hand passes in between the gaps of the bars and pulls your face towards him, pressing your cheek against the cold metal. "I work only with those I can trust, and I don't trust you, Princess." For a few seconds you forget how to breathe. His warmth radiates through his glove, causing goosebumps in your cold skin. "And besides, why should I help you? I don't like breaking contracts and your father made a good offer."

"You don't know what he's going to do to me." You try to sound in control, but tears begin to sting your eyes, your voice shaking in desperation. "He won't kill me, but he'll make me beg for death. And after this torture I'm going to be forced to marry a brute who's going to humiliate me for the rest of my life."

The air gets tense between the two of you. Boba Fett has seen many fake tears in his life, sometimes people were desperate. But your fear and anger were genuine, every word seemed poison running down your lips.

Suddenly a metallic sound runs through the ship, followed by a series of grunts that are familiar to you. "Tusken raiders..." You say under your breath. The next second Fett's hand leaves your face, and he heads toward one of the halls.

"W-wait!" You beg, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “Let me help you. I can talk to them!"

He stops abruptly and moves his head slightly to look over his shoulder. "Do you know how to speak their language?"

You nod. "Yes! I can translate exactly what they say." Well, “exactly” was an exaggeration, but you needed to sell your point.

It looks like he is thinking about your proposal a little bit more, but the sounds outside the ship seem to pull him out of his thoughts. With a sigh, he walks over to the control panel and opens the cell.

You watch paralyzed as he approaches you. With firm hands he opens the handcuffs, but he keeps his fingers wrapped around your wrist. He gets even closer, until his helmet was just inches away from your face. "Don't try any tricks with me, Princess." He warns in a deep tone of voice.

"Don't threaten me, Fett. I'm not stupid." He gives you a tight squeeze before letting you go.

"Just a reminder." He mutters.

You follow him down one of the corridors, listening to the grunts of the Tusken accompanied by the wind howl. “That's how it's going to be: I'm going to open the gate and when they come in, you're going to talk to them. Ask what they need and why they are here.” You simply nod at him.

He goes to the control panel. “Let's see if you were really telling the truth. He says one last time before pushing a series of buttons.

The door opens slowly allowing a gust of wind and sand to enter the interior of the ship. You cover your eyes, feeling the sand hit against your skin and invade everything. All you can do is hold your breath and count the seconds. With difficulty you can hear a few steps reverberating down the ramp, getting closer and closer. When the door closes you could finally see the new visitors.

It was a small group, composed of two men, a woman and a small child. You feel so out of place, still wearing your work clothes and covered in dirty and bruises. You don't feel like a proper translator, but you would give your best. One of the men, the leader probably, stands in front of everyone and greets you. You do the same, imitating the movement of his hands.

You make a gesture towards you and then to Fett, followed by a grunt. Your vocal cords aren’t fit to replicate the sounds that the Tusken make. Surely your throat would be sore after this little dialogue. Fett don’t ask questions, he lets you lead the conversation, only watching closely.

"I'm introducing us." You explain to Fett, not wanting to leave him in the dark." You look back at the leader and meticulously analyze his every gesture, trying not to miss anything. When he finishes talking, you look back at Fett. "They got lost from their group during the storm and are in need of shelter."

"Tell them they can stay in here until the storm's over." Fett tells you and you nod. As ordered, you translate what he said.

The leader thanks the hospitality, and the group settles on the ground, patiently waiting for the end of the storm. You smile as you watch the little child hugging their mother as she nests them in her arms.

"So..." You look over your shoulder and smirk at Fett "Did I do a good job, Mr. Fett?” You bat your eyelashes at him, voice dripping with confidence.

"Don't get cocky, Princess." He huffs. "How did you learn their language?"

"There was old man in the village who used to trade with the Tusken, he taught me everything I know in exchange for a few free drinks." You explain, "And it's also a great way to get guys to stop flirting with me. I start grunting and they run away immediately." You smile to yourself, remembering the last time you did this.

Now that that little partnership had ended the future was uncertain, it all depended on Fett's goodwill. You swallow in dry, losing some of that confident pose.

"I-I... Do I need to go back to the cell?" You ask nervously.

"Let's talk first. Come with me.”

Fett guides you to a higher level of the ship, taking you to the cockpit. “I can’t shake the felling that you weren’t totally loss in my conversation with the Tusken.” You say out loud as you sit on the seat next to him. Maybe you were pushing you luck, but you couldn’t help it.

“And why do you think that?” He turns he seat to look at you with his head slightly tilted. He asks as he already knew the answer, but he wants you to tell him.

“I tend to overanalyze things most of the time, but you didn’t question me what we were talking about and, let’s be honest, we both know that I could have said anything to try to escape.” You rest your cheek in your hand. “And I simply don't believe that a man like you would want things to be out of your control. So, I do think that what happened back there was a test.”

He chuckles. “I understand their language, but I wanted to test if what you told me was true. But we not here to talk about this.” You straighten your posture, feeling the tone of the conversation shift to something more serious. “Tell me why you ran away from your family.”

Your throat gets suddenly dry and you stat to pick at your nails. It's been two years since you left, but it was still painful. It was like a wound that would never heal. Sometimes it was less noticeable, sometimes it burned like fire, but it was always there, in the depths of your mind.

"As my father's firstborn I had many responsibilities. One of them was that I should get married to bring unity with the neighboring kingdom." Fett remains silent. "I didn’t like the idea of an arranged marriage, but it was necessary. Until..." The words seemed to escape you; it was still so hard to talk about it. "On... on the wedding day my... groom" the word has a bad taste in your mouth. "Tried to touch me, inappropriately."

"He... did he hurt you?”

"No, that's why I ran away. And even if my father believed in me, he would make me marry anyway. All for the good of the kingdom."

"I'm sorry" He mutters. You don't know exactly what he's apologizing for, but either way, you accept it.

“Do you want to ask me anything else?”

“Do you still want to be my assistant? Working with me can be dangerous, I have many enemies and being the Daimyo of Tatooine comes with unwanted attention. If you want to just leave, I will not stop.”

"Yes, of course a do!” That’s where you wanted to be now, there was no coming back. And besides, being protected by the Daimyo of Tatooine didn’t sound bad.

"Well, welcome to the crew." Fett’s hand reaches out towards you, and you squeeze it without hesitation. You knew that moment would change everything, your new life would finally begin.

A few hours go by and the storm's over. You wave to the Tusken as they disappear between the dunes. Fett presses one of the buttons and the ramp begins to rise while the door closes slowly.

"Where now?" You ask as you follow him towards the cockpit again.

"Back to my palace." Fett replies "We have work to do, Princess."

You frown at the nickname. "Enough calling me that.” You complain as you buckle your seat belt.

Fett laughs while turning the engines. You hear the ship come to life around you, gears and turbines singing in tune. "I don't think so. It's very appropriate for you, Princess."

You roll your eyes, trying to look angry, but you can't help a little smile that appears in your lips. Gradually the ship begins to rise, gaining enough amplitude to reach flight. You watch the two suns slowly set on the horizon, skirted by a sky bathed in shades of purple and pink.

You wanted to stay awake to enjoy that beautiful view, but your eyes become too heavy, your body begging for a rest. Before you know it, you fall asleep.

- -

Masterlist

[legobiwan]

Just saw your latest post on Rael and his nighttime activities and for some reason I immediately thought: OMG, what if this man had taught Obi-Wan?! Obi-Wan already flirts with everyone in canon, would he turn it up a notch or become a prude? And now I'm thinking of the two very different reactions Qui-Gon and Rael would have to all of Obi-Wan's flirting. Especially with Ventress, their sister-padawan. This family is a disaster

Ha, that’s a good question! I don’t think Obi-wan truly embraced his flirtier side until after Qui-gon’s death. I mean, he’s always been an insouciant bastard, even as a Padawan, but the flirting, I feel, is an offshoot of Obi-wan’s inherent sass that didn’t manifest until his late 20s, at least. (You may argue that he had to have flirted with Satine to gain her affection sometime between M & A and TPM, but given what we see and are told in the Mandalore episodes, Obi-wan was probably not his suave self at 20. I mean, he did drop Satine on Draboon and still seemed rather embarrassed about it how many years later?)

I think Qui-gon not being in his life post-Naboo allowed Obi-wan to embrace some personality aspects of himself that he might have kept a little more under wraps as a student. Obi-wan was trying very hard to rebel against Qui-gon’s freewheeling ways, even if Obi-wan’s truer nature was closer to Qui-gon’s iconoclasm then he’d like to admit. (It’s not until you get older that you begin to realize in what ways you are similar to your parental figures and which ways you deviate. I imagine it was the same for Obi-wan.)

Now, if Rael had been Obi-wan’s teacher. First of all, that would have been chaos incarnate and I’m sitting here laughing just thinking about it. Although, I will say this much - Qui-gon’s biggest flaw in teaching Obi-wan wasn’t his tendency to create his own rules to suit his purposes, but it was his utter failure at communicating with a student who kept his true emotions under lock, key, and lead walls. Qui-gon doesn’t explain why he keeps Obi-wan in form one for years, has a tendency to just...steamroll past important conversations. Hell, Qui-gon admits in Master and Apprentice that he’s not necessarily an expert at reading emotions - that for all of his connection with the Living Force, he has to divine people’s intentions the old-fashioned way: by reading body language and vocal inflection. Rael, on the other hand, for all of his casualness, for all of his flouting of propriety as armor - Rael is a pretty decent communicator and we see from the get-go with him and a young Qui-gon that he is good at reaching out and explaining the whys and the wherefores and providing emotional support. I feel that Rael might have had a better shot at communicating with Obi-wan, even if their partnership would have driven Obi-wan to distraction. 

So, it’s hard to say if Obes would have gone more prude under Rael’s tutelage. My instinct tells me that Obi-wan’s flirting is just part of his DNA and I know if Rael had met an adult Obi-wan, he would have been tickled to see Qui-gon Jinn’s student using his charismatic wiles for (mostly) good. (Even if Obi-wan would deny the hell out of it.) Qui-gon would probably shake his head and disapprove in the way he disapproved of Rael’s nocturnal hobbies despite Qui-gon breaking the Code left and right in other ways. 

Basically, I’m picturing Rael and Qui-gon in some kind of high school sports stands watching a large holo of “Obi-wan’s Sassiest Flirts, Volume One”, Rael waving a small flag and cheering while Qui-gon just sits slumped over, looking dour. Somewhere in the upper bleachers Dooku is watching this all unfold, wondering where he went wrong with this Lineage (but also secretly approving of Obi-wan’s use of all his manipulative abilities to gain an advantage. After all, Dooku himself is noted as being a charming, aristocratic man and he certainly would have used that to his advantage, although not in the more ebullient way Rael would.)

Disaster family, indeed. :D

[suicidalalarmclock]

🦢👑

Enchanted Chapter 2

 

Emma was in shock. Utterly flabbergasted as her mother would put it. Daniel had managed to completely blindside her with this royal fugitive girlfriend crap, but it wasn’t that alone.  Emma was finding the princess supremely intelligent, captivatingly brave, and astonishingly beautiful. To a feminist, such as Emma, these attributes were all her favorites intermingling with the other. The product of which she could never have imagine existed in such regal packaging.

 Regina’s skin was as fair as the finest of princesses, yet it held more depth, glowing olive against the moonlight and the strikingly deep raven color of her hair. Her brown eyes told a story of class and composure, unreadable and set evenly below perfectly manicured eyebrows. Emma couldn’t help but notice the blazing fire behind them. It made her appear . . . dangerous.

 

Almost 20 minutes into the ride and Emma is pretty sure she’s gotten the mystery of Daniel and Regina meeting all figured out. 

 

Daniel had been assigned to tend to the horses of Sir Fieldwin and Sir Dreof of the White Knights. And Sir Fieldwin and Sir Dreof were the exact duo who received the former king and princess at the entry portal to this world nearly two month’s ago. How her friend had caught the eye of a supposed tyrant princess she still had no clue.

 

Regina’s arms draped loosely across Emma’s waist and her body pressed firmly against her back. Emma could tell that she was a tad stiff, probably not the most comfortable with the current ridding situation, and that annoyed Emma for some reason. On the ride to pick up Regina she kept hearing Daniel speak about love and the timing seemed all wrong. How did this princess have time to fall in love hot off the tails of being banished by her own mother from their kingdom? Cut off from her people and the only land she’d ever known and still she’d somehow found time to fall in love with Daniel? The freaking stable boy?

Emma knew she wasn’t giving her friend enough credit and tried to cancel out this irrational (and elitist ) train of thought. Still something didn’t add up. Daniel was handsome, smart, and caring. He made for an excellent best friend and Emma could see herself liking him that way if she fancied men romantically, but no royal person would advise it. As tolerant as her own parents were, she would even have a hard time explaining that one. They’d rather deal with the current predicament of Emma’s female inclination than entertain the idea of class mixing unions. 

 

Regina hiccuped and Emma shuttered at the warm tickle the woman’s breath made against her neck. This acute awareness of all Regina’s movements was odd for Emma. She rarely allowed time to indulge in romantic follies. Her parents would love nothing more than for her to put effort into finding her “true love.” Though she blamed their relentless optimism for her pessimism. 

 

It was torture growing up the product of true love. Normal people didn’t get that. It was constantly thrown in her face. How rare it had become. How lucky it was that her parents were able to find each other in their lifetimes. All that really meant to Emma was the odds of finding her true love were close to shit. It seemed to never happen. It was an anomaly. And instead of wallowing in disappointment she’d spent a lifetime convincing herself that she didn’t care about finding love at all.

 

In the end this train of thought was getting quite ridiculous. She always wanted what she couldn’t have. Regina was off limits completely. She was her best friend’s girlfriend. She had no right so of course she was tempted. She had a penchant for obsessing and flustering over this woman was a prime example.

 

“There to the left.” Daniel directed with his finger toward an intricate structure of interwoven trees.

“Why is it so dark tonight?” Emma’s brow furrowed in suspicion. The branches were normally adorned with sparkles of glittering magic, Luminescence they called it, but currently not even the faintest ray of light reflected before them. Intuition washed over Emma’s body with a chilling awareness of foreboding.

 

“For the record I did not sign up for this.” Emma stated plainly as she studied the sky. They were way behind schedule having only been able to walk the horse lest leave Daniel behind completely. She took a breath to antagonize Daniel over this predicament again, but she turned around to Regina’s face set in a scowl. Her nose turned up in a showing of affected and pompous dignity, as if Emma had somehow offended her.

 

“You are the entire reason we are here.” Regina spat relaxing at her shoulders as if it had pained her to hold her opinion back any longer. She removed her hands from their position upon the blonde’s waist while Emma tugged the horse to a stop.

 

“I’m the reason?” Emma questioned in disbelief. She strained to turn her torso more to make sure she was reading Regina properly. “Look, we are here so Daniel can win you over by helping you get your magic back.”

 

Emma wasn’t stupid. Daniel needed her more than she needed magic.

“You’re afraid.” Regina stated as if she already knew her well enough to read her tells. The presumption stumped Emma only because it was the truth. She was afraid, but of exactly what she couldn’t put into words, but she did know it was loads more complex than Regina was assuming. Emma tighten up and remained silent, thankfully Daniel started speaking before she had to.

 

“Emma, everything will obe fine.”

 

“You’re calling me Emma this must be a terrible idea.” 

 

“It’ll be easy. You’ll go up there and say you want to speak to Blue. No one will even suspect a thing.”

 

“You know I hate lying.”

 

“I know you will lie when it’s for the greater good. And how would you be lying? You do need to speak with her.”

 

This gave Emma pause again as she took a moment to properly dismount Twilight before offering her arm to Regina in return. Of course Daniel had beaten her to it. Already slipping his arm across her waist. For a moment Regina looked content to snuggle against the chest of his embrace, but Regina pressed herself free after a brief moment and it was alarming how much satisfaction it gave Emma to witness the dismissal before Daniel continued.

 

“What good is being a Royal if you never use your fairy?” Now that was a damned fine question. He well knew why she didn’t and she had no intention on opening up the discussion for that unstable topic in the current mixed company.

 

“She isn’t a thing to be used Daniel. I would be stealing from the good guys here. And for what?”

 

The truth was more, and for whom? For Regina to get her magic back? She barely knew the woman.

 

“You don’t understand your realm at all do you?” Regina began incredulously. She’d fallen quite beside Daniel, but this time she was obviously offended by Emma’s ignorance. She approached closer with each word and Emma found herself stepping slowly away, intimidated by her aggression and elegance.

“Your God mother ripped away my elemental powers. Do you have any idea how painful it is to be stripped down to the premature essence of your being?” 

 

The sincerity in her tone made Emma reconsider and she deflated some and her guard slipping a little. “I didn’t know there was pain involved in taking magic away . . . ” 

 Regina was in her face now. So close that Emma could make out the impression of a faint scar above her quivering lip.

“How idealistic of you. You are the daughter of King Charming. I’m sure your parents keep you in the dark about even the most mundane things, but think about it, Fairies aren’t the only inherently magical species! It’s not natural. Humans can have a natural affinity to magic too. Can be born with magic too.”

 

The concept was a lot to process and even though Emma found herself believing Regina in the moment she knew there was also more on the other side of the story. So instead of yielding she became defensive.

 

“Excuse me if I have a hard time taking advice from a woman who was forced to seek asylum in my “ignorant” parent’s kingdom because of magic.”

 

Regina’s cheeks colored though it was a lot more pronounced than a blush. Emma noticed the return of the fire. She was seething and her mouth barely moved as she responded.

 

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

The contempt in her tone make Emma recoil. She was totally out of line, but it still didn’t change the facts. There was something she wasn’t getting.

“Well then enlighten me!”

 

“Guys we should really keep our voices down.” Daniel assessed in vain though Emma wasn’t budging. He could have sworn he saw the reflection of metal behind the brush.

 

“You said you didn’t want to steal from the good guys. I’m telling you they are hypocritical soul snatching bigots!”

 

“Who have done everything in their power to protect my family and the balance of the realm. What evidence do you have?”

 

“Hey Guys.” Daniel attempted again as their voices had risen considerably. He aimed to put himself in the middle of the two but Regina too wasn't budging.  

 

“Me! I’m the evidence! You could have saved us a lot of time if you would have told us you had no desire to help me in the first place!” 

 

“This all started because you claimed this was about me! And I’m not saying I don’t want to help you. I’m not sure we should go about it this way.”

 

“This is about you! Daniel doesn’t care if I get my magic back. He only wants me to help you to end whatever riff you have with your fairy god mother.”

 

Emma’s arms were held high above her head in exasperation. Where did Daniel get off telling Regina about her personal life? Pushing her hands back through her hair she turned about face on her heel only to be startled out of her mind. 

 

“Dad?!” She exclaimed at having come face to face with her father dressed in his battle armor.

 

“Emma Elizabeth Charming! What in the world?”

 

“Why are you here?” Emma demanded, as if she had the right to be out at this hour and her father, being all about transparency, answered her out of habit. 

 

“I received a bird of high distress, the fairies will be happy to know there were no real intruders, but what have you done with Tinkerbell?” 

 

Emma was confused. She doubted the Fairies had time to call upon the Knights since her motley crew had arrived and she hadn’t spoken with Tinkerbelle since the incident she keeps trying not to talk about. As if to confirm that thought there was a sudden bustle of movement to the right.  The entire clearing became encased in a bright green flash of light. Emma found herself entranced for a moment before she suddenly became very heavy and collapsed in a heap atop the ground. 

 

XXX

[heinretic]

“Now I have something I want to protect. It’s you.”

Studio Ghibli Meme

“Well, you certainly haven’t done a very good job of it.”

It’s said softly, or as softly as he could manage with a busted lip. 

The night had certainly been an eventful ‘wind down’ for their latest case. Curran wanted to go drinking (naturally), and despite Heinwald’s better judgement, his desires were obliged, settling down in a ho-dink bar at the end of an equally rural town. They could use the patronage, he reasoned. 

Like most places, they got their share of strange looks as they entered, but since no one had the gal to say anything about the inquisitor and his zombiesque companion, they took their seats and ordered. The food was fairly good, the alcohol must have been decent enough seeing how Curran guzzled it like the waters of paradise, and all things considered, it was turning out to be a pleasant end to a rather hectic day. 

Then he heard it, the telltale, harsh whisper from within the room- freak. 

Curran hadn’t heard, of course, between the ambiance and the alcohol, even Hein had to slow his roll to carry a conversation, but he heard it. Saw the stares from the rather burly men at the bar. Mercenaries, he’d wager, given the armor and weapons, but small time local help given the quality. Maybe even bandit, but most didn’t pay for their drinks without causing trouble.

Trouble came. 

As the night dragged and flagons emptied, it became painfully obvious to even the most inebriated detective (and boy was he) that the two were not going to leave without contributing their two cents towards the pair’s tab. 

The specifics of the slurs took a moment for Heinwald to process, but the words dead pet stood out from the usual clauses and phrases. Curran, bless his heart, must have heard every word clear as crystal, as his retort was the fastest punch Hein had ever seen thrown in his life. 

One rather graceful bar fight later, they had to make due with a half assed camp a couple of stones’ throw away from the town. Staying around after a fight only brewed a hangover’s worth of troubles. 

“You know,” Curran started, “I have absolutely no idea what that guy said.”

“Really?” He pulled the damp cloth from the cut on Curran’s cheek, “Then why on earth did you punch him?”

“Well, you don’t exactly walk up to a random guy in a bard like that if you want to make friends, so-”

Hein sighed, giving the cut one last albeit a tad rough wipe before discarding it to the side in favor of a bandage. “If you want to start fights for no good reason, you can do it when I’m not around.”

“I just gave you the reason- he started it!”

The noise that escaped the detective was some cross between an exasperated bah and a softer sigh as he edged himself a little closer to finish taping the bandage, “It wasn’t worth it. We could be in a bed right now if it weren’t for you.”

“That inn would have been shit anyways, and I’d still fight him, cold stone sober.”

“Stone cold- you just said you only fought him because you had reason in his insult.”

Curran held up a triumphant finger between them, all smiles, “So he did deserve it!”

Hein sighed again, with far less forgiving wisp in the breath, “That’s besides the point. Just– stop getting yourself hurt for nothing- and it was nothing. If you fight every cretin with a criticism you’ll be overwhelmed, and I’ll have to clean it up. It doesn’t bother me.”

He didn’t like lying to Curran, but it was easy to justify when he was lying to himself too. Every word hung around him like a mist, coursing through his body with every inhale. Freak, monster, madman- harmless accusations and assumptions; light as air, easy to swallow, but the weight they sunk into the pit of his stomach was enough to drown him if he didn’t keep himself afloat. They didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt. 

He felt his gaze shift despite his best efforts to look him in the eye. Curran saw. He knew. 

“I never fight without a reason,” the inquisitor reassured, still overflowing with alcoholic mirth, “it might not be a good reason, but I always got one. Even a funny look was good enough, but it takes a lil more than that now. Now I have something I want to protect. It’s you.”

“Well, you certainly haven’t done a very good job of it.”

For a knee jerk response, it’s said softly, or as softly as he could manage with a busted lip. His hand pulling back to test the tender wound of his own. Curran, of course, took the brunt of the assault, but in the clamor to fall into position he’d managed to land himself directly in the path of a punch. Needless to say, the mage was decommissioned the rest of the brawl. The way Curran (quite literally) tossed them aside, though, meant he probably wouldn’t have done much good anyways. 

“Let me see that-”

Curran didn’t wait for an affirmative, cupping the underside of Heinwald’s chin to turn his head either which way to examine. It took a bit of strain for Hein to watch the blond, but there was no denying the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Ah- there’s your problem.”

“The cut? An astute ob-”

A sudden sting across his mouth was the first indication of Curran’s lips against his, followed by the heavy scent of booze between them. It smelt as though the entire bar had seeped into his clothes within the fight, which wouldn’t have been surprising, considering how many tables they went through in the process. As assaulting as the odor was, it was intoxicating. 

Heinwald’s hand found its way to the bandage on the other’s face, his thumb stroking against the material lightly as Curran kissed against the swelling. While each movement irritated the wound, Hein couldn’t tell the difference between the thumping heartbeat in his ears and the throb of his own lips as he returned the affections, drowning in the scent of honeyed mead and the distinct sweat his partner carried. Not once did he pull away. 

“There.” Curran spoke against his mouth before pulling away, never letting go of his chin, “Better?”

Heinwald was still breathless, “Much.”

“I thought so.”

[dietcokeandcheetos]

Do you know what it’s like to quit smoking cigarettes for almost 6 years and then pick it up again? i do. it’s truly something else. the flood of nostalgia is one-of-a-kind, second to maybe the smell of the house where i grew up, which i will never get to smell again. ive had kind of a hard year so far, and my resolve to stay quit has kinda worn down. i needed the comfort of holding my little sticks, standing outside alone for a reason, smelling like a smoker because it feels kinda like armor.

ive had 2 miscarriages this year. one in january and then the other at the beginning of June. after that all i wanted was a break from life--a few days off work, people to leave me alone. but i didnt get it, and the sadness and frustration completely overwhelmed me to the point where i was barely functioning. i got back on my zoloft which my ob/gyn told me afterwards was probably fine. both pregnancies i did everything right, i was the perfect vessel, and it still didnt matter. so pretty much immediately after getting back on the meds my oppressive emotional responses to everything toned down and i felt like myself again. for the first time in almost a decade i deactivated facebook...every time i looked at my feed i felt miserable. birth announcements, babies, pregnant women standing there with their bellies, their statuses complaining about pregnant stuff, all the people due when i should have been due. im feeling so much better now but im still not back on the book of face, i just dont really care what anyone has to say. its a farce, a sham of life. nobody on there is your friend.

so thats why i started smoking again. after the first miscarriage i went to a superbowl party at my work friends house and she had a pack, i smoked 3. there were another couple of boozy nights where i smoked a bunch. and last night i bought a pack, so i guess im back in the game. im not proud of it, and i know this is gonna work against all the fitness ive achieved in the past couple of years, but fuck it.

Another thing lately is that i’m getting my green thumb. ive always loved plants and how they look, but i never wanted to put in the time and effort into like, keeping them alive & shit. but in the past several months ive been like, ok, what do i need to do to keep this plant alive? and its working. all my plants lately have been thriving and growing out of control.

ok time for my wild saturday night to begin. wine and laundry

[raymondchougaming]

Going Mech in TvP...Some Ideas

Although my skill level is nowhere near high enough (in terms of execution) for this, I am going to throw out how I plan on going about this, evaluate some factors, and then propose a few solutions.

First of all, the big question: is there even a point in going mech right now? MMMM + Tank + liberator and maybe a few ghosts is so strong right now that there is actually no point in going mech.

It’s not necessary at all! But I feel as though it should be explored, because this could potentially unveil a family of strategies similar to 2009-2010 SK Telecom T1 Terran Builds - Fake Mech builds (iLoveOov comes to mind), or Flash-style tech switches. This will be interesting if Mech somehow becomes an established part of the meta, and the Protoss responses are DRASTICALLY different...all of a sudden we’ve opened up a bunch of new possibilities.

That being said, Starcraft 2 strategies are being developed with all of the history of Brood War and HotS and WoL behind them, so perhaps we have reached a point where that style of strategy is just not possible.

But first, let’s list our goal with mech. What is the whole purpose of going Mech?

In Brood War, Terrans went mech for a few reasons:

1. Reavers 2. High Templar 3. Bad pathfinding and chokes on maps led to inability to quick dodge storms 4. Reavers 5. Healing in Brood War was not as readily available 6. Stutter stepping was not very good 7. EMPs were VERY hard to get...since vessels were expensive in gas, took forever to build, and you needed that gas for the rest of your army. Oh, did I also mention that you have to research them, most likely get the Vessel energy upgrade, and then wait for the energy on your vessels to build up? Oh yeah, let’s not forget that the bulk of their army is DRAGOONS, which kill a vessel like instantly. Vessels couldn’t cloak, and unless you were REALLY good with them, you most likely got feedbacked if you tried to EMP templar.

In other words, why Bio didn’t work in Brood War. But wait a minute...a lot of those same constraints hold true in Legacy of the Void as well! It’s just that the numbers stack up a bit differently.

First cold, hard truth.

At the end of the day, if the numbers don’t work out, the strategy WILL not work. This was a truth I refused to accept back in 2011-2012, but I am ready to embrace it now.

At the end of the day, both players have a number above their heads - total value, and everything they try to do is to just try to have their numbers “collide” at the crucial moment when their number is higher than their opponents. Everything you do seeks to increase that number. Building units, getting more bases, etc...but even more subtle things such as holding your mouse properly or eye placement. Proper eye placement makes you more effective in game, adding to your “total.” 

So my study of the matchups will consist of a few “phases.”

1. Computing the possible “value” of the other player at any given point in time. This will take extensive analysis.

2. Maximizing my value. Notice that the previous post, dedicated to multitasking, indirectly increased the effectiveness of all of my in game resources.

***Do note that all values are relative to both players, the map in question, their interactions, and numerous other environmental/situational factors

Well, first of all, let us state a goal with Mech. What is the point��of mech? Unless there is sufficient justification, there is no reason for any pro player to switch. I am exploring mainly for curiosity.

-Do drops? Bio drops are CRAZY effective and can snipe buildings like no other. Hellion drops are crazy though, but you don’t have the same building sniping capability. -Keep Protoss at home? Well, bio does that quite well. -Take expansions aggressively? Bio does that VERY well. What will most likely end up happening as mech is that you have to sacrifice expansions strategically. Or build a bunch of static defense.

-Mech armies should be able to engage Protoss armies directly, and then crush them while suffering very little loss. That has traditionally been the case in Starcraft 2...and if that is the case, then going mech puts a timer on Protoss to win...or puts indirect “pressure” on Protoss by necessitating them to tech to Tempests or Carriers + Void Rays and achieve critical mass. Assuming, that is, that Terran doesn’t just die to blink stalker harass, which we will discuss shortly.

So let us state our goal, and then we will work on achieving it.

The goal is to create an untouchable army, and then slowly advance towards Protoss to simply kill them outright, whilst slowly whittling them down by dealing economic damage. The goal is to kill them before the air transition that Protoss will make, or make the transition to Sky Terran before they get critical mass of air. The presence of this mech army puts a timer on Protoss to force them to invest significant resources in mobile armies, such as Blink Stalkers, and if we are able to resist, then we can kill them, or significantly maim them, during the timing attack (most likely a max push).

In many instances, this can result in a base race, which Terran will win because Terran buildings fly and Hellions are fast.

First, let’s list all of the Protoss combat units:

Zealots, stalkers, adepts, sentries, HT, DT, obs, Warp Prism, Colossus, immortals, disruptors, mothership core, mothership, stasis, oracle, voidray, phoenix, carrier, tempest (and probe)

A critical mass of tanks will destroy just about everything. Terrans even have the added advantage of having the Thor meatshields, and cyclones seem like a good unit (will test). Hellbats look pretty good...

So the unit composition I am thinking of is:

-Critical mass of tanks -A few thors and cyclones for support -A SHIT TON of hellions and mines running all over the place in the midgame, but this number will be dropped later on in favor of more thors and tanks -Perhaps a few marauders if absolutely necessary -GHOSTS. Critical for this composition. Ties in nicely with Marauders -A squadron of a few Vikings, a Raven, and like 4-8 banshees roaming around the map

For the midgame, the idea is to roam around key spots of the map with the air, snipe the observer with the Vikings (it takes 2 shots), and then send the banshees in cloaked to pick off things. A key component of this strategy is hunting down the observers, and constantly deny Protoss vision. Also, we will be laying down mines in certain key paths, and since we’re killing observers, this will slow down any sort of thing Protoss can do to harass us.

I would like to have 2 Factories with reactors pumping out oodles and oodles of Hellions and Mines. I would like to run hellions into mineral lines and wreak havoc, put mines in cool places, just anything I can do to mess with Protoss and keep them at home while I prepare for the death push. 

Randomly placed missile turrets would be a nice touch, and buildings will be very important. Structure Armor is CRITICAL, and Hi-Sec Auto-Tracking may be good, since we will be getting a few Planetaries. Sim-city will be very important.

The ideal engagement goes like this: We set up our army in an advantageous position that cuts his bases in half. Tanks sieged, thors near the front-center, hellions/hellbats and cyclones in the front, a brief mine field, and then a few Barracks as DPS soakers/movement constrictors, and turrets peppered everywhere, with the air squad floating around. This is a very high APM strategy.

They cannot attack directly into it. This will most likely trigger a base race, which you are guaranteed to win.

I’ll figure out the opener and think about it some other time.

So a few contingencies: Protoss will most likely, once they spot you going for Mech, transition into some sort of super mobile army, most likely one containing a lot of Blink Stalkers. To deal with this, a lot of planetary fortresses are necessary, with like 1 tank (2 max) at each expansion. Maybe a mine or two at the bottom of a ramp leading to each expansion. Mines cannot be used as liberally as they were in Brood War, since they’re free and cost 2 supply. So perhaps we’ll have a mine in this one key path, but once I spot (most likely with a sensor tower) that he’s going for a blink-in, I’ll move the mine around. The airsquad can serve as cleanup, and I can pull a bit of my army back. If he really commits a lot of stalkers - stalkers are expensive! I’ll just go in there and kill him if that’s the case.

I’ll start jamming blink-able cliffs with a ton of buildings and turrets. The turrets to kill the observer, and buildings (such as raised depots) to deny the Protoss space to blink in. If they do shoot at a building, that still buys me time to get over there. I’ll just fly over there with airsquad and kill everything. Also, PDD is pretty good.

If at any point I scout the mass Stargate transition, I immediately begin the death push. If he is not quite kill-able, then I begin the mass Starport transition. Though I do need to learn if Sky Terran can beat mass tempest/carrier/voidray. 

I’ll try a few of these in unranked and see how it goes.

[legobiwan]

TCW Rewatch: “Lair of Grievous” (S1, E10)

There is A LOT going on here, so buckle up, friends

Why are all Jedi like this?

Rein it in, Fisto

Okay, but is a FASCINATING, almost throw-away line - let’s break this down for a moment:

Why could Kit not complete Nahdar’s training?

Luminara and Anakin both had Padawans during the war, so it’s not like there was a moratorium on Generals training students, even in conflict. (Hell, they needed students to be capable, as their ranks were thinning each year.)

Interestingly enough, this ties into a subplot of Master and Apprentice, when Qui-gon is nominated to join the Council. 

Mace and Yoda are obvious exceptions to this rule, having taken Depa and Dooku, respectively, during their tenure on the Council. And, they had, “served on the Council for a long time.”

Now, Kit was only appointed to the Council sometime during the War (we don’t know when exactly, in canon or in legends). And he mentions here that the war interfered with finishing their training, so perhaps we can make the assumption that after Kit was appointed to the Council, he lost the right to train Nahdar.

Now, this brings up another question that was being bandied about a week or two ago, regarding Ahsoka’s training and who exactly was behind all of those machinations. 

So, taking this into account, was Obi-wan 1) explicitly going against the Council’s orders and taking a Padawan (Qui-gon-style) or 2) was he pretending to take a Padawan in order to make Anakin take a Padawan and conveniently “forget” about the no-Padawans-if-you’re-on-the-Council-rule because either way, it’s a little devious, Obes.

Ohhh...FFS what is it with you people?!?

Now, that is also a fascinating throwaway line. What do droids smell like? Can all clones identify it? Is it lubricant and a whiff of incompetent evil? Inquiring minds want to know. 

Why does the entrance to Grievous’s apartment look like LACMA?

Ah, good trick with the hologram Gunray, I mean Dooku.

Did Kit know Dooku pre-Sith? I’m guessing no.

Dooku: “While the Viceroy is unavailable for capture, allow me to offer you an alternative prize.” 

THIS MAN IS A BASTARD AND I LOVE HIM.

So...things get a little interesting here. Dooku has essentially allowed the Jedi into Grievous’s home (”lair”) to “test” Grievous. (Which we find out later.) But the little touches here are super as this is one of the rare times we get any form of insight into Grievous’s pre-cyborg days as a Kaleesh. (Also, don’t these statues kiiiinda feel like a bastardization of the ones in the Temple? Just saying...)

So I know this quote by Grievous has been addressed before here, but I want to talk about it again for a moment:

Grievous, to Dooku: “You expect victory over the Jedi, but all you give me to fight them is battle droids.”

HE’S NOT WRONG

But here’s the thing. Dooku (and Sidious) don’t necessarily want Grievous to succeed. Sidious is still grooming Anakin and Dooku still thinks he’s accumulating power to overtake Sidious and the Republic and the longer the war rages (with Grievous at its helm, at least on the ground), the more time they have to consolidate their goals.

Dooku is totally playing Grievous here. (Manipulative sob I still love him.)

Grievous hangs up on Dooku mid-holoskype again, I LOVE IT.

Okay, so Grievous is not only adding lightsabers to his collection but other war trophies. A Kaleesh cultural thing? Perhaps.

OKAY BUT ALL THIS TALK ABOUT WHO THE TRAP IS FOR. Come on, Fisto. You’re part of the trap, stop being so damned optimistic. 

Oh crap, kid. Ummmmmm......

Oh boi.

Not to mention this:

Who trained this kid after Kit? And is this attitude the reason he was framed this way in the introduction to the episode?

Okay, but if I didn’t know better, I would have thought Grievous’s doctor had been programmed by Dooku himself. “Don’t be upset with me, master. If you were a better fighter, we would not be having this conversation.” I mean, who else ever sasses Grievous like this?

But seriously, Nahdar. Kid. You have some issues. Like, Anakin-level issues. His quest for power to beat power is addressed by Yoda at the end of the episode, but is a perfect encapsulation of how the war was totally putting the Jedi at odds with their ideals. 

Grievous’s med droid, though. “Your armor plates are getting cold and contrary to your belief, I do have other things to do.” If he hadn’t followed this up with a comment about why Grievous chose his enhancements, I almost would have believed this med droid was a weird manifestation of Dooku’s extant light side. But then again, this droid knew Grievous before he was Grievous, which is also fascinating. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t resist.

Also, quick someone photoshop this, I love how this doctor droid is essentially sitting down, eating popcorn while Nahdar is getting slaughtered by Grievous. 

Grievous: “I will not rest until the Jedi are dead.” Obi-wan: “I will sleep when I’m dead.”

Well, Nahdar died in typically brutal fashion and all the clones are finished off as well, great mission, you guys. (Yikes)

WHY DO THESE HAVE THE SAME ENERGY?

I love this man. 

GRIEVOUS YOU BASTARD

OOPS. OOPS. Grievous, you asshole. That’s the second time this episode he hangs on Dooku mid-holoskype.

But beyond that, I do find it interesting that Dooku (Sidious) is testing Grievous this early in the game. What was their end plan here? What if Grievous had been killed? Or captured? We know from the earlier quote that Dooku and Sidious were hampering Grievous’s military efforts by giving him more battle droids over more advanced droids in order to prolong the war. Was this also part of it? Or just a way to keep Grievous in-line via terror and home invasion? (In which case, well-done, Dooku, that’s, like, almost as bad as Alexa and those Ring doorbell cameras.)

Okay, but Yoda’s comment about meeting power with power and the Jedi losing who they are is, like, the crux, here. This is what the war is doing. Exposing the cracks in the Jedi Order’s facade. Undermining public trust in the Jedi. Perhaps leading more Jedi to turn. It’s so devious and so well-planned, my gods. JEEEEZE, SHEEVE, COULD YA GET ANY MORE EVIL????

[grace-for-the-nations-daily-word]

*Your word for today*

*WEAPONS OF OUR WARFARE SERIES.*

In my preamble to this series I covered the following:

Understanding your aurthority.

The understanding you have of you aurthority as a beliver determines the effectiveness or ineffectiveness of your spiritual warfare.

Secondly I detailed the four kinds of power that backs up every beliver in their daily walk vof faith and in spiritual warfare.

We have powerful facets and dimensions of power at our disposal as belivers.

Yesterday I explained the difference between Warfare and a battle.

This I did to make us understand that spiritual warfare is not a obe day or one season event.

It is rather a continuous campaign and against the devil and every undesirable thing he throws our way.

Spiritual warfare will include many battles and is part of our life as long as we are still here on earth.

Today lets start on 'WEAPONS OF OUR WARFARE SERIES'.

Scripture clearly instructs you to put on the spiritual amour & use the spiritual weapons given to you by God.

Everything about you as a believer is spiritual and has a spiritual significance to it.

Every challenge you face has its roots in the spiritual realm.

Family problems, marital challenges, work problems, personal issues and as many problems you can think of, they all have their roots in the spiritual realm.

You have to deal with them spiritually and the natural will fall in line.

The best way to deal with these spiritual issues that manifest in the natural is to Put on the amour of God and use the weapons of warfare which God supplies to every believer and use the amour that God made available for us.

We will go through a series on Weapons of our Warfare and the Amour of God and help each other rise up to deal with issues on a spiritual level.

I encourage you today to read the following key scriptures and not only memories them but meditate on them.

Let them speak to you and saturate your whole being.

*Our Key scriptures are:*

Ephesians 6:12 For we are not wrestling with flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the despotisms, against the powers, against [the master spirits who are] the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spirit forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) sphere.

[13]Therefore put on God's complete armor, that you may be able to resist and stand your ground on the evil day [of danger], and, having done all [the crisis demands], to stand [firmly in your place].

[14]Stand therefore [hold your ground], having tightened the belt of truth around your loins and having put on the breastplate of integrity and of moral rectitude and right standing with God,

[15]And having shod your feet in preparation [to face the enemy with the firm-footed stability, the promptness, and the readiness produced by the good news] of the Gospel of peace.

[16]Lift up over all the [covering] shield of saving faith, upon which you can quench all the flaming missiles of the wicked [one].

[17]And take the helmet of salvation and the sword that the Spirit wields, which is the Word of God.

[18]Pray at all times (on every occasion, in every season) in the Spirit, with all [manner of] prayer and entreaty. To that end keep alert and watch with strong purpose and perseverance, interceding in behalf of all the saints (God's consecrated people).

2 Corinthians 10:3 For though we walk (live) in the flesh, we are not carrying on our warfare according to the flesh and using mere human weapons.

[4]For the weapons of our warfare are not physical [weapons of flesh and blood], but they are mighty before God for the overthrow and destruction of strongholds,

[5][Inasmuch as we] refute arguments and theories and reasonings and every proud and lofty thing that sets itself up against the [true] knowledge of God; and we lead every thought and purpose away captive into the obedience of Christ (the Messiah, the Anointed One),

We wage war, we wrestle not against flesh and blood, not against physical enemies but against an array and rankings of the evil spiritual real.

For every battle you fight, see beyond the physical opponents right to the spiritual power behind it.

That's where the real battle is.

Your physical enemies are just but mediums through which thes demonic ranks fight you through.

Kick out the forces behind them and they are completely useless

Much blessing

*© Pst Brucely Hanya*

*_March 2021 daily word_*

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