#being the most theatrically trained AND the most acrobatic of the Crew | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aenaxes-moved · 4 years ago

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[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.

#argh tumblr censored my first post #anyways #i originally wanted to write a sparring scene with wrecker but. i think that wouldn't really give you a fighting chance #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #yaej.writes #filter

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prowrestlingnewszwj575-blog · 5 years ago

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thewidowstanton · 8 years ago

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Susan Johnson, novelist

Susan Johnson is an Australian novelist with 10 books under her belt. She is also a journalist, writing for Qweekend magazine, the Saturday colour magazine of The Courier-Mail in her home town of Brisbane. Her third novel, A Big Life, published in 1993, traces the story of Billy Hayes, a young Australian boy who has a passion for tumbling. Set from the 1930s onwards, he travels to England in search of his fortune, marryies a showgirl called Bubbles, becomes a hit on the variety circuit and appears at The London Palladium and in theatres in Blackpool, among others.

The novel conveys what it was like to be a jobbing acrobat during those times, the digs, the hand-to-mouth existence, the highs and lows, but also the sheer joy of flying through the air, and the thrill of entertaining an audience. Susan Johnson chats to Adrian Arratoon, more than 20 years since he first read A Big Life.

The Widow Stanton: I read that you started writing A Big Life in Hong Kong. How long were you there for? Susan Johnson: Not very long, probably going on for two years; I was there for a very short first marriage. I was married to an English barrister, who has gone on to write books himself. But when I came to write A Big Life I wasn't writing it in Hong Kong. I was writing an entirely different book, which happens to me a lot – I start off over here and end up over here. In fact, I remember I was doing a lot of research into a female bush ranger, and this was pre-internet days, don't forget, at the Hong Kong University library. It was my idea to do a story about a bush ranger during the time of the discovery of the gold fields in Australia.

And somehow, after I left Hong Kong and was living in London, I ended up doing a story about this young acrobat. But the whole notion of Billy, his essence being 'of air' – that his work is air – is, in some ways, very much like an extended metaphor of the writer in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is money, and as a writer – unless you are Stephen King – I was doing something completely outside the idea of making money. So in a sense what I was doing was working with air too. That became a kind of metaphorical way of looking at the complexities and distresses of my time in Hong Kong, where writing was so little valued.

How did the idea of circus and variety come to you? I've always loved the circus. But the inspiration of the character of Billy came from my grandmother's brother, John Moroney, whose stage name was Brad Moroney. I was very close to him. Many of the stories in A Big Life were inspired by my mother's family. Her mother came from a very large Irish Catholic family, and a lot of those stories were the inspiration for the jumping-off point for A Big Life. My great-grandmother only died when I was 22, so she could tell me stories of her grandmother, who was Scottish, and came to Australia. She and her husband ran a stagecoach between one small country town to another. Lots of the stories of Saph [Billy's mother] in A Big Life were inspired by my great-grandmother, who was born during the time of the last bush rangers in New South Wales. They're all great storytellers, that side of the family. I always grew up knowing about this missing brother [of my grandmother's], who had gone to London many years before as a 15-year-old, and I kept saying, ‘How could he only be 15 when he went?'. What can you tell me about him? He was a completely self-taught acrobat. And the story in the novel of the couple adopting Billy was a true story that had happened to my grandmother. A wealthy couple wanted to adopt her so I used all this and reimagined it. Like Billy in the book, his father did come back traumatised from the First World War, that was a true story. And Brad did have a wife called Bubbles. I asked him if he minded me using this wonderful name; it was such a 30s-40s name for showgirls. Bubbles did leave him, like in the novel, ran away and he never saw his son again.

When I was living in Sydney with my family, he came back from London. I remember very clearly going to the airport – the whole family, my great-grandmother, his brother and sisters, cousins, aunties, everybody came to see him step off that plane after 40 years. I remember being completely captivated. He was rather dashing; he’d become an actor after his acrobatic career faltered because of the rise in popularity of television. He'd missed out by a whisker on the role of Robin Hood on television, the one that went to Richard Greene. He went on to have a string of clubs in the UK. I spoke to him at length; he was absolutely terrific at telling this wonderfully long embellished history of the heyday of British theatrics. His story was far sadder than anything I could have invented. He did have a second wife, and this is the part you can't make up. Many people think my novels are drawn from life but if one took life in all its amazing intricacy, drama, disappointments and tragedy, it just does not look real if you write it on the page. For example, his second wife was a Thalidomide baby, so she had one arm to here and no arm on the other side. They ran clubs and came to Australia with the most beautiful child, who was two. Brad was 60 by then, his second wife was 30. Their child went on to die at the age of 21 of a brain tumor, and Brad himself died about two years later. A terribly sad story.

How aware were you of the theatres in Blackpool, the Finsbury Park Empire and so on, which feature in A Big Life? Oh, very aware. I spent a couple of weeks in Blackpool. I stayed in a boarding house and went backstage with one of the acrobatic dancing shows in a theatre at the end of one of the piers where Brad had actually performed. The acrobats lived the same lives when I visited them as they did in the 30s and the 40s. They have a certain number of shows, they have seasons, they live in boarding houses, they have the same fights with the managements about how well they're paid. They do an amazing job and are a great professional group of people. They still change trains at Crewe, it's the same sort of life as JB Priestly was writing about in Angel Pavement. I found them as charming as ever. Having re-read A Big Life and your second novel, Flying Lessons, recently, the structure of A Big Life is very simple in comparison with its predecessor. Was that a deliberate move? Absolutely. Every book I write is some kind of reaction to the last one. But in this case there was a very good reason. Both my first and second novels did that past-present to-ing and fro-ing thing and my late father, bless his heart, said to me: “Oh Susan, can't you write a novel that starts at the beginning and goes through right to the end?” Did you do any performing or circus skills yourself? How did you get the feeling for being a tumbler? I didn't. Mum was a nightclub singer in Sydney and she sang on the radio too, so there is a streak down that side of the family for entertaining. I was always just reading books. I would have loved to have danced but I never did. But it's trying to enter that imaginative space and surely that's what the role of the writer must be. I do remember speaking to the acrobats in Blackpool about that notion of weightlessness and the joy they get from just being completely free. And Brad spoke about it with such joy; it was also something no one else could do. So for him as a working-class boy to be able to do those kinds of things and get those oohs and aahs from the crowd was great. All his family left school at 14, so everyone was so proud of him. He'd send back all these postcards from the ship. Via them I pretty much followed his trail through Aden and the canal up to London when he was performing on the ship.

In the book you mention the London Palladium. I presume you've been there? I have. I knocked on the stage door one day and some very kindly old gent who'd been there for, like a thousand years, who was so proud of having worked there, he showed me around, the flaps, the orchestra pit, the green rooms and the dressing rooms. And Brad did several shows at the Palladium. I think the real pity of London theatre now is the great gap that's opened up between the shows and the public that can afford to go. It's become a real middle-class, or even upper-middle-class pastime, which is a very sad thing to see. Because originally they were of the people, and were open to everybody. You're in Brisbane, and it's the hotbed of Australian circus because of Circa. Are you familiar with them? Oh yes, absolutely. Its headquarters is not too far from where I am, and its quite common for schoolchildren in Brisbane to do circus activities as an after-school sport. Quite a few of my friends' kids have done that. Circa is a wonderful circus. Before the internet, which makes me sound like I'm 170 years old, when I was trying to find out information about you, it got very confusing because there's another novelist called Susan Johnson who writes steamy bodice-rippers… That's right. I always makes this joke that I think I sold the bulk of my books in America by mistake because everyone seemed to think I was her. Even now, on some websites I'm down as being 78… You look marvellous! I think the other Susan Johnson is that age. I do often think I should go under my full name, Susan Ruth Johnson, to avoid confusion. We'll see…

Susan Johnson's latest novel, The Landing, is available from, as they say, all good bookshops. A Big Life is currently out of print, but can be found online secondhand.

Picture credit: Susan in pink T-shirt; Paul Harris

Susan’s website

Twitter: @sjreaders

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

Read about how Australia started producing world-class circus performers in our interview with Jess Love

#susan johnson #novelist #tumbling #circus #variety #acrobat #acrobatics #fiction #australia #brisbane #journalism #novel #interview #circa circus

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billwells3 · 7 years ago

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Some of our Move Revolution Kids Active Village partners!

We are thrilled with the list of sports clubs and businesses we have joining us at the Move Revolution Kids Active Village this year, and we had a chat with some of them to hear all about what they have planned and how you’d find out more about them:

Old Reigatians Rugby Football Club – Ben Hamps, Chair of the Mini’s section.

Move Revolution’s Kids Active Village will present our club with a fantastic opportunity to promote the game of rugby to local parents and children (girls & boys) and give them a real insight into what is a great sport for all ages and abilities.

Old Reigatian Rugby Football Club (ORRFC) was founded in 1927. Since then our club has to continued to mature and grow. We now offer rugby from age 4 via our Mini’s section all the way up to and including adult rugby. Currently we have just over 1000 members of which over 500 are players.

What do you enjoy most about volunteering at the club?

From a volunteer point of view coaching rugby is really enjoyable for so many reasons. After years of playing the game it’s great to give something back and pass on what I have learnt through three decades of the sport. Primarily though it’s about the children having fun. Seeing a group of happy faces whether you are training or playing competitively is a great feeling and passing on a team spirit and ethos through rugby is very rewarding.

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

Our club like many others focus on the RFU’s core values: Teamwork, Respect, Enjoyment, Discipline and Sportsmanship and these are what makes the game special for those who enjoy the environment and culture they create. However, one of my personal favourites from an old school teacher is: “Be the best you can be!”

How can we find out more about the club? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

Please do come and visit us. Our address is: Geoffrey Knight Fields, Park Lane, Reigate, RH2 8JX.

Our Minis train on Sunday mornings from 10am starting in September through until the end of April. Those children new to the club are given three trial lessons for free!

More information can be found on our website also at: https://www.oldreigatianrfc.com/info

Reigate School of Ballet – Joanne Evans, Owner

We are really looking forward to working with the Move Revolution team, being part of an exciting programme of events which benefits all local children.

The Reigate School of Ballet & Commercial Dance was founded in Shirley Knight and Penny Lambert in 1963. Shirley was a professional ballerina and had danced with Margot Fonteyn, who herself lived in Reigate, where her statue still stands proudly. Jo Evans, who like Shirley, was trained at the prestigious Royal Ballet School in Richmond, joined the school and eventually became the Principal when both Shirley and Penny retired.

Since then, the school has grown considerably and has maintained its status as the leading dance school in Reigate and the surrounding area. The school now teaches all theatrical and commercial dance genres from the ages of 6 months to adult in a fun and welcoming environment, believing that dance is important for every child’s development and wellbeing. The school specialises in ballet, but has a strong reputation in all current commercial dance forms – contemporary, tap, commercial street & hip-hop, musical theatre, acrobatic dance, adult dance and fitness classes. The school has a large contingency of older children also, which proves the children are happy and fulfilled. With nearly 1000 children, the school is proud of all its achievements and continues to be the most prolific performing dance school in the area. We are passionate about dance, and with a high degree of highly qualified dance teachers with commerical and teaching experience (2 Royal Ballet trained teachers, 1 ballet examiner, West -End & TV commercial experience etc.), we truly believe dance is for all.

What do you enjoy most about working and owning your business?

Meeting new faces and working with children. Dance and performing is what we know best, and we love passing on our experience to the new generations.

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

OUR PASSION IS DANCE FOR ALL

How can we find out more about you? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

WEB – www.reigateschoolofballet.com FACEBOOK – https://en-gb.facebook.com/RSBalletandCommercialDance/ TWITTER – https://twitter.com/RS_Ballet INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/reigateschoolofballet/

All year round, we offer 3 FREE TRIAL CLASSES for everybody, to ensure both parent and child are happy.

ALSO – for this term only, sign up for our new Acro Dance class on Mondays for 1 term and receive a whole term of MODERN DANCE classes for FREE: £55.50 for the term for 11 Acro Dance classes PLUS 11 Modern Dance classes (classes are back to back on Mondays).

Boogie Monsters – Kelly Smith, Founder and keyboard player

Thank you for being part of Move Revolution’s Kids Active Village 2017. What are you looking forward to?

We love being a part of such an incredible local event – last year was fantastic! We are looking forward to seeing some more incredible costumes and meeting lots more families taking part in the running – adults and kids!We can’t wait to bring you some more silly action songs and running / exercise themed music to get everyone moving – that includes YOU mums and dads!

Tell us about your business/club/when were you founded and how has it developed since then?

Boogie Monsters was founded in July 2014. I am a mum of 2 and a musician, and I was very keen to introduce my children to music from an early age. However, I soon discovered that a lot of children’s music is very cheaply made, synthesised and frankly not very exciting or inspiring – for either children or parents! I wanted to ignite a passion for REAL music, with real musicians playing instruments – the excitement of a live band! I wanted to create a family experience where people could sing and dance together, and for children to get to see live music in a setting that isn’t usually very accessible to them. So I created Boogie Monsters with my brother Ben (guitar), and other professional musician friends Nicki (singer), Martin (bass) and Steve (drums)! With a focus on high quality rock and pop music, our aim is to appeal to parents and children alike, with our musical mash-ups of chart hits, TV and film favourites, funky nursery rhymes and rocked-up action songs. We use bubbles, colourful props, inflatables, ribbons, a parachute, confetti and much more to encourage the children to interact with us and the music.

Our first family gig was in a church hall in Reigate, three years ago and since then we have played to thousands of people across the UK, at our own organised live gigs as well as at public festivals, birthday parties and organised family events.

The band have won several awards, including Best Children’s Business in the Muddy Stiletto Awards last year.

We have also used our music to work with hundreds of children with autism and other disabilities throughout the country, working with Music for Autism, as well as putting on concerts for Shooting Star Children’s Hospice and The Children’s Trust in Tadworth.

What do you enjoy most about performing and running the band?

I feel very proud to have created something which is completely different, and although owning your own business takes incredible commitment and drive, it’s very rewarding and gives me the opportunity to perform again and the flexibility I need to work around family life. Playing in a band is the BEST fun ever, and I am lucky to have a job where I am having a great time! When we are performing, we just love watching the children’s reaction to the band – I hope for them to be inspired by seeing us play, particularly when it’s music they can relate to. My son has been to nearly every one of our public concerts, and is now a budding drummer!

What has been your most memorable event/milestone to date?

There have been so many special performances over the past three years, but earlier this summer we performed every day at Camp Bestival, the UK’s largest family festival, and this was a fantastic experience for us. We had an amazing tech crew so the sound was incredible, and we had a huge stage and space to perform in. We all dressed up as 80s rock stars to fit in with their rock star / pop star theme this year. Performing to such a huge number of people was a real buzz and we can’t wait to do it again!

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

We like this from Stevie Wonder…’Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories. And the longer a song has existed in our lives, the more memories we have of it.’And this from Roy Ayers…’The true beauty of music is that is connects people. It carries a message, and we, the musicians, are the messengers.’

How can we find out more about you?

www.boogiemonsters.co.uk www.facebook.com/boogiemonstersuk www.twitter.com/Boogie_Monsters www.instagram.com/boogiemonstersrock

We will bring you more details of the other clubs and businesses who’ll be joining us soon, so watch this space!

To help us bring you more and more of these quality free children’s events, please let us know if you’re thinking of selling or renting your home, the team would be delighted to show you how they can help you do it efficiently with great customer service – 0330 223 1000. Have a look at our 5 star reviews on RaterAgent – we truly are great at what we do!

source http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/move-revolution-kids-active-village-partners/

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lindyhunt · 7 years ago

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Some of our Move Revolution Kids Active Village partners!

Old Reigatians Rugby Football Club – Ben Hamps, Chair of the Mini’s section.

What do you enjoy most about volunteering at the club?

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

How can we find out more about the club? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

Please do come and visit us. Our address is: Geoffrey Knight Fields, Park Lane, Reigate, RH2 8JX.

Our Minis train on Sunday mornings from 10am starting in September through until the end of April. Those children new to the club are given three trial lessons for free!

More information can be found on our website also at: https://www.oldreigatianrfc.com/info

Reigate School of Ballet – Joanne Evans, Owner

We are really looking forward to working with the Move Revolution team, being part of an exciting programme of events which benefits all local children.

What do you enjoy most about working and owning your business?

Meeting new faces and working with children. Dance and performing is what we know best, and we love passing on our experience to the new generations.

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

OUR PASSION IS DANCE FOR ALL

How can we find out more about you? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

All year round, we offer 3 FREE TRIAL CLASSES for everybody, to ensure both parent and child are happy.

Boogie Monsters – Kelly Smith, Founder and keyboard player

Thank you for being part of Move Revolution’s Kids Active Village 2017. What are you looking forward to?

Tell us about your business/club/when were you founded and how has it developed since then?

The band have won several awards, including Best Children’s Business in the Muddy Stiletto Awards last year.

What do you enjoy most about performing and running the band?

What has been your most memorable event/milestone to date?

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

How can we find out more about you?

www.boogiemonsters.co.uk www.facebook.com/boogiemonstersuk www.twitter.com/Boogie_Monsters www.instagram.com/boogiemonstersrock

We will bring you more details of the other clubs and businesses who’ll be joining us soon, so watch this space!

from Move Revolution http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/move-revolution-kids-active-village-partners/

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moverevolutionestateagents · 7 years ago

Text

Some of our Move Revolution Kids Active Village partners!

Old Reigatians Rugby Football Club – Ben Hamps, Chair of the Mini’s section.

What do you enjoy most about volunteering at the club?

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

How can we find out more about the club? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

Please do come and visit us. Our address is: Geoffrey Knight Fields, Park Lane, Reigate, RH2 8JX.

Our Minis train on Sunday mornings from 10am starting in September through until the end of April. Those children new to the club are given three trial lessons for free!

More information can be found on our website also at: https://www.oldreigatianrfc.com/info

Reigate School of Ballet – Joanne Evans, Owner

We are really looking forward to working with the Move Revolution team, being part of an exciting programme of events which benefits all local children.

What do you enjoy most about working and owning your business?

Meeting new faces and working with children. Dance and performing is what we know best, and we love passing on our experience to the new generations.

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

OUR PASSION IS DANCE FOR ALL

How can we find out more about you? Do you have any joining offers/free try out sessions?

All year round, we offer 3 FREE TRIAL CLASSES for everybody, to ensure both parent and child are happy.

Boogie Monsters – Kelly Smith, Founder and keyboard player

Thank you for being part of Move Revolution’s Kids Active Village 2017. What are you looking forward to?

Tell us about your business/club/when were you founded and how has it developed since then?

The band have won several awards, including Best Children’s Business in the Muddy Stiletto Awards last year.

What do you enjoy most about performing and running the band?

What has been your most memorable event/milestone to date?

Do you have a motto or inspirational quote?

How can we find out more about you?

www.boogiemonsters.co.uk www.facebook.com/boogiemonstersuk www.twitter.com/Boogie_Monsters www.instagram.com/boogiemonstersrock

We will bring you more details of the other clubs and businesses who’ll be joining us soon, so watch this space!

The post Some of our Move Revolution Kids Active Village partners! appeared first on Move Revolution.

from Move Revolution http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/move-revolution-kids-active-village-partners/

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