#where’s deke?

[samanthaswishes]

Does it bother anyone else that it’s 2023 and there are still people who still see W*rd and D*ke being pushed as “good” relationships for Daisy?

You know the guy who was literally a nazi murderer that tried to manipulate her and the other guy that sold her into slavery then later made a very creepy and disgusting, over-sexualized vr game of her. That’s not even to mention that they both had very creepy obsessions with her. And that’s supposed to be seen as “cute”?

Or is it just me?

[cassnottiel]

oh no the character who was comedic relief and silly has transformed in my mind into the most nuanced and mentally ill wet cat in all the land

[cabeswaterdrowned]

agents of shield s7 really was a shockingly good conclusion to something I like… like on it’s own it’s a good season but I don’t really realize how highly I think of it overall (it’s not agents of shield s4 who’s praises I’ll sing any day of the week) until I think about how many concluding seasons or books of shows or series I love could have been better if they were more like it in a variety of ways…

[azsazz]

Shut Out

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @i-am-a-lost-girl16: Hockey Az and Figure Skater reader?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,493

Notes: See? I still write 😏

_________________________________________

“Hey! I still have the ice for another fifteen minutes,” you shout at the hockey players that are suddenly stampeding through the gate to the ice rink like animals.

You cut to a harsh stop, ice shavings spraying in your wake as you cross your arms over your chest and glare at the Velaris Bats hockey team gliding easily across the ice rink where you were just practicing your figure skating routine. Normally, you’d be ogling the broad players in their onyx and violet practice jerseys, already splitting into teams for a scrimmage as they ignore the fiery look on your face, but with only a few more weeks until nationals, you need every minute on the ice that you can get.

“Sorry, Princess,” Cassian “Bloodshed” Bailey says, flipping a puck onto the tip of his stick as he skates past, tossing it up and catching it again a few times as if it’s a display that should impress you. Right now, none of their tricks or flirtatious teases are doing anything of the sort. “Gotta big game against the Wolves this weekend. Coach wants us on extra ice time so we’re in tip-top shape.”

“I’m pretty sure when he said extra ice time, he didn’t mean to interrupt my ice time,” you growl at him, but he’s already distracted, bobbing the puck back and forth as he approaches the net. The sound of his stick on the ice echoes throughout the arena as he takes a slap shot.

You refrain from smiling smugly when the goalie stops his shot with a triumphant cackle.

You stubbornly want to stay on the ice, take up the time you’re allowed to practice your routine, but with all the pucks zipping around, it could be detrimental to your health if you were to trip or—Mother forbid—land on one as you come out of an axel.

Eyes flitting angrily around the colony of Bat’s players, you scour the ice for the team captain, Rhysand. The thing is, all dressed up in their pads and helmets, the players are a blur of clones, whipping by you on both sides as they warm up.

There’s always one player that never fails to stand out to you, no matter how much he tries to disappear from the crowd. He catches your eye as he skates by, the fallen strands of hair from your ponytail lifting with the speed that he’s moving, taking a puck down the ice as a breakaway ensues.

He dodges you easily, and your heart races in your chest at the fleeting glance he passes you. His hazel eyes have a hard, determined set to them, as if he knows before he’s even finished crossing the neutral line that he’s going to score a goal.

Azriel Teller.

He dips around the defensemen effortlessly, and if you were more well-versed in hockey to know if he was actually as good as he seems, you’d be sure that he’s a shoo-in for going to the big leagues after graduation.

Azriel feigns to the right, deking out the player in the violet practice jersey, before placing a well-aimed shot at the net.

It soars past the goalie, hitting the net and falling to the ice with a clatter that’s deafened by his teammates cheering and skating his way to clang their helmets together in celebration.

From the middle of the player puddle, those glittering hazel eyes find yours again and your breath whooshes from your chest at the smirk he pairs with it.

“(Y/N?) What are you still doing out here?” A voice startles you away from the glorious sight of Azriel. You flinch, teetering off balance as you whirl around, flailing your arms as you startle.

Rhysand catches you as you slip, steadying you against his chest. The sound of his hockey stick slapping the ice is loud in your ears and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you clutch to the captain of the Velaris Bats jersey with an iron grip.

You were nearly born on the ice, your parents getting you into skating at a very early age, and here you are, tripping around like a newborn deer walking for the first time.

All in front of Azriel, too.

When you have your feet beneath you again, you slide back a pace, the frown returning to your face as you tilt your chin to address Rhysand.

“Your team cut into my time early,” you say sourly, but standing this close to Rhysand, you can’t seem to find that fire in the pit of your stomach that raged when the team first stepped onto the ice. The goal Azriel all but dedicated to you with that look snuffed it right out. “I don’t appreciate you guys barging in here on my time, thinking you own the damn place. I have nationals to practice for, you know.”

Rhysand grimaces in response. He’s someone you might even consider a friend, having run into the hockey boys on multiple occasions, the figure skaters and the hockey teams having to share one rink now that the other one is finally being updated with the generous donation the school received. He’s nice, a good team captain, if you’ve ever seen one, caring not only about his players, but the circumstances everyone at the Velaris Ice Center is facing with recent construction.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and he means it. “I was in a call with coach and wasn’t able to stop Cassian from leading the charge out here.”

“This is the second time it’s happened in two weeks, Rhys.” You all but huff. You don’t want to act like the prissy figure skater they probably all think you are, but enough is enough. Winning Nationals is important to you, and you can’t become distracted by hockey players or lose any ice time.

Rhysand opens his mouth to reply but before he can say anything, Azriel is whizzing past, shoulder checking his captain as if the consequences of that don’t bother him in the slightest.

You gasp as Rhys recoils, even more so when you see the cross look on Azriel’s face when he shoots a warning glower over his shoulder.

Rhys glares, flipping his friend off, and you have to tuck your lips between your teeth to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of his gloved fingers thick with padding flipping Azriel off.

Rolling his eyes, the captain turns back to you.

“What was that all about?” You ask tentatively, not sure you want to know the answer. Your eyes are still on Azriel who’s hopped over the fence into the team’s bench and is currently squirting some water into his mouth. It drips down his chin, gliding down the thick column of his throat and into the neckline of his pads.

The sight makes your throat dry.

“I’ll try better,” Rhysand says, hands on his hips as he looks around the rink. His perfectly plucked brows are furrowed as he thinks, and you can’t help but wonder if he gets them professionally done or not. “Hey, assholes,” he suddenly shouts, and you flinch when his voice echoes around the arena. “Get on the benches, now!”

You swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as the team follows their captains’ orders with grumbles. They don’t seem to want whatever lecture they think they’re going to get from Rhysand, but he ignores their grousing, turning back to you when the last ass has hit the bench.

“You have fifteen minutes, (Y/N),” Rhys says, skating backwards towards the bench.  When your jaw drops, his grin turns wicked.

He wants you to finish practicing right now? While the entire team watches? Is he fucking crazy?

“You can’t be serious,” you shriek, almost stomping your skate-clad foot on the ice. Yes, you’re used to performing in front of a crowd even larger than the team, but these guys are like fiends. Half of them glower at you while the other half is looking at you like they want to fool around on center ice.

“Totally am,” Rhysand shouts back, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are hot enough to melt the ice beneath your skates. “C’mon now, you’re wasting precious practice time for the both of us!”

“Fuck you,” you grumble, but he’s right, you do want your time back. Preferably without a horde of horny college hockey players watching you, but you’ll take what you can get this time.

Skating over to where your phone is placed on the rail of the away team benches, you restart your song with a few beats of silence before so you can get into your starting position back in the middle of the rink.

When the first string of the violins starts, you’re off, determined now more than ever at getting this routine perfect.

You’re all too aware of the hazel eyes tracing your every move as you skate, though.

[nhlclover]

BURDEN QUINN HUGHES

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!coach!reader

summary: you and quinn, both dealing with your individual struggles, are able to find solace in one another.

warnings: coach!reader, platonic (but like maybe the start of something more?), very much inspired by what people say about our queen jessica campbell so sexism + misogyny, quinn dealing with feelings of not being good enough, probably more that i'm missing but that's the general vibe

wc: 2.37k

The arena was almost eerily silent after morning skate. Most of the team had already showered and left, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. The echoes of their skates had long since disappeared from the ice, leaving only the soft hum of the arena lights and the rattling of the air conditioner.

You sat alone in the video room, the glow of the monitor illuminating your focused expression. Game footage flickered on the screen — defensive breakdowns, missed passes, and a handful of lackluster power plays that made you grit your teeth.

The weight of the Canucks' struggles pressed down on your chest like a concrete block. Frame by frame, the footage laid bare every mistake — blown coverage, lazy backchecks, and forwards stranded without support. It wasn't just a bad stretch; it was a pattern, a slow unraveling of confidence and cohesion.

You leaned forward, pausing the playback at a brutal turnover that led to yet another odd-man rush. Your jaw clenched as the opposing winger effortlessly deked past your defence and buried the puck top shelf. The players' body language told its own grim story: slumped shoulders, frustrated glances, and hollow stares at the bench. The swagger that once defined the team had been replaced by hesitation and doubt.

A slow sigh escaped your lips as you scribbled notes on a crumpled sheet. Tighten defensive gaps. Better transition reads. Revamp special teams. The list was growing longer than you'd care to admit. But it wasn’t just tactics — it was heart. How do you coach belief back into a team that’s forgotten how to win?

The nagging whispers of self-doubt were now becoming shouts as the losses piled up. Being the second female coach in NHL history was a weight you carried with both pride and exhaustion. Every misstep wasn’t just seen as a tactical error—it was treated like evidence. Evidence that maybe you didn’t belong, evidence that the old-school skeptics were right. 

When the Canucks were winning, the narrative was a feel-good headline: Trailblazing Coach Proves Gender Barrier No Match for Hockey Savvy. But when the losses piled up, the tone shifted. Experiment Failing? Pressure Mounts for Second Female Coach. 

The whispers lingered even when the arena was empty. Analysts questioned your systems, fans dissected your bench demeanor, and anonymous accounts on social media spewed their venom without consequence. They didn’t just criticize strategy — they questioned your very right to stand where you stood.

You clenched your pen, the tip scratching harsh lines into the paper. The criticism was constant and insidious, seeping into every corner of your thoughts if you let it. So you forced it out. You learned to compartmentalize, shoving doubts and insecurities into a mental lockbox and focusing on the task at hand. You kept your head down, analyzing film, strategizing drills, and blocking out the noise.

You'd never been one to walk away from a fight, and hockey was no different. You reminded yourself why you'd taken this job in the first place — not just for yourself, but for every girl who grew up loving the game and wondering if there was a place for them in it. There was. You were proof of that, whether the world wanted to accept it or not.

Out on the ice, Quinn Hughes lingered, skating slow, deliberate laps. He was always the last one off the ice, pushing himself long after everyone else had called it a day. You’d spent countless hours working with him — he was the Canucks’ captain and a gifted defenseman, and you related to him deeply, having been a defenseman yourself during your playing days. You’d seen firsthand the weight of the season beginning to settle heavily on his shoulders. 

The physical toll was obvious. His left hand, heavily taped beneath his glove, clenched his stick with a tension that spoke of discomfort. You'd caught him flexing his fingers during breaks in practice, a grimace flickering across his face before he masked it with stoic determination. The medical staff had recommended rest, but Quinn had brushed off their concerns, insisting that the team needed him. He was stubborn like that — a trait you both shared, for better or worse.

But it wasn’t just the hand injury eating away at him. There was a weariness in his eyes that tape and ice baths couldn't fix. The weight of leadership pressed on his shoulders, compounded by the growing friction in the locker room. Pettersson and Miller, two of the team's brightest stars, were locked in a silent feud that was becoming harder to ignore.

You'd seen the glances exchanged during line changes, the curt nods instead of fist bumps after goals, and the palpable tension during meetings. They weren't shouting matches — at least not yet — but the simmering resentment was affecting everyone. Players tried not to choose sides, instead desperately trying to keep the locker room from ripping at the seams. 

Quinn had tried to mediate, his voice low and measured as he pulled them aside after practice. But neither Elias nor J.T. seemed willing to budge. Their competitive drive, which usually fueled the team’s success, had become a wedge driving them apart. And Quinn, caught in the middle, was paying the price.

You restarted the clip of yet another failed powerplay, trying to identify what needed to change in order to see some results. Do you change the personnel? Do you change their positioning? Try a different zone entry? The seemingly endless options bounced around in your head, causing yet another pounding headache to develop. 

Then it came: the sudden, jarring clatter of sticks clashing against hard surfaces. The sharp bang of a door slamming open reverberated through the empty arena corridors. You flinched, the sound cutting through the quiet like a slap. Something heavy crashed inside the locker room, followed by a burst of shouting and cursing.

You rose from your chair, the glow of the monitor fading behind you as you walked down the hallway toward the locker room. Stepping inside, hesitantly while holding your breath, you took in the sight before you.

Quinn sat hunched over in his stall, his posture crumpled under an invisible weight. His skates, helmet, stick, and gloves were scattered across the room like the aftermath of a storm. The helmet lay upside down near the far wall, and one glove was still spinning slightly on the floor, evidence of its recent violent trajectory.

His chest heaved, and a sheen of sweat clung to his brow despite having left the ice some time ago. His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white against the dark fabric of his practice gear. The air was thick with the acrid scent of frustration and the faint, putrid scent of sweat that you could never fully get accustomed to.

You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts warring between giving him space and stepping in. But Quinn Hughes wasn’t someone who had outbursts — not like this. Seeing him unravel was unsettling, a stark contrast to the composed leader you’d come to know.

Silently, you crossed the room and sat in Garland’s stall directly across from him. Quinn didn’t look up, his shoulders still rising and falling with uneven breaths. The echoes of his outburst lingered in the space, settling into a weighty silence that clung to the walls. You crossed the room and sat down in Garland's stall across from him, folding your hands between your knees.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The hum of the arena lights filled the void, punctuated only by the distant hiss of the ventilation system. You let the quiet stretch, knowing that sometimes the best thing you could offer was simply presence — no forced pep talks, no immediate fixes, just being there.

Quinn's fists slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out. He stared at the floor, the sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his expression was a war between anger and defeat. You knew that look well — it was the face of a leader trying to hold everything together when the cracks were becoming too wide to ignore.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice steady but gentle.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What do you think?”

Fair enough. “Looks like you had a... spirited moment.”

His lips quirked faintly at your attempt to lighten the mood, but it quickly faded. “I just—” He broke off, struggling to find the words. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m supposed to be the one holding it together, and I can’t even hold myself together right now.”

You nodded, allowing the weight of his confession to hang between you. “Leadership’s a hell of a burden, isn’t it?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I knew it was going to be tough, but this? Watching the team fall apart? Petey and J.T. at each other's throats, the power play tanking, the media breathing down our necks? Feels like everything's slipping through my fingers, and I can’t stop it.”

“You’re not failing them,” you said firmly. “You care. That’s why this is eating you up inside. And that’s what makes you the right guy to wear that ‘C.’ The team doesn’t need a perfect captain, Quinn. They need one who shows up, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

He shook his head, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “It’s not enough. I’ve tried talking to Petey and J.T., but it’s like talking to a wall. And the guys... they can feel it. The tension. I see it in the way they skate, the way they sit in the room after games. It’s like we’re all waiting for something to snap.”

You leaned forward, your voice low but resolute. “Then don’t wait. Set the tone. You don’t have to fix everything overnight, but you can start by showing them what it looks like to keep fighting. Lead by example — on the ice, in the room, wherever they need you. And as for Petey and J.T.? If they won’t listen to reason, maybe it’s time for a little tough love.”

Quinn exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Feels like I’m failing them,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “The team, the fans — everyone. And I can’t even play at my best with this damn hand.” His voice cracked as he looked down at his fingers, flexing them with a grimace.

“You’re not in this alone,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with understanding. “And you’re not the only one under a microscope. Trust me — I get it.”

Quinn frowned, curiosity flickering through the storm behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You shifted slightly, trying to organize thoughts that had been gnawing at the edges of your mind for weeks. “Look, being a coach in the NHL is tough for anyone. But being a woman? It adds a whole extra layer. When we win, I’m a novelty story. When we lose, I’m a failed experiment. And they don’t hold back either — I hear the whispers, read the headlines I shouldn’t be reading.” You exhaled shakily. “The criticism goes beyond X’s and O’s. They don’t just question my strategy; they question whether I should even be here in the first place.”

Quinn's expression hardened. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, bitterness tinging your voice. “But it’s reality. And I can’t let it break me, because the minute I do, they win. So I compartmentalize, push through the noise, and keep fighting. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get to me sometimes.”

Quinn was quiet for a long beat, his brows furrowed in thought. “It’s like no matter how hard you work or how much you care, it’s never enough, is it?”

“Exactly.” You gave a humorless laugh. “And God forbid you show any cracks, because then you’re weak. And weak doesn’t fly in this world.”

The weight of unspoken truths lingered between you, heavy but oddly comforting in its shared understanding. For once, you didn’t feel like you had to keep the walls up, and judging by the tension easing from Quinn’s shoulders, neither did he.

“I guess that’s what leadership is,” you added quietly. “Taking the hits so the people around you don’t have to. Even when it feels like it’s breaking you.”

Quinn's eyes met yours, something raw and unguarded flickering there. “You ever wonder if it’s worth it?”

You hesitated, the question hitting deeper than you expected. “Honestly? Sometimes. But then I think about why I started all of this in the first place. I love this game, and I want to prove that people like me — people who don’t fit the mould — can belong in it too. That keeps me going.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning your words over in his mind. “Guess I need to figure out what keeps me going.”

“You will,” you assured him, voice steady. “And when you do, hold onto it like hell. It’ll be what gets you through the worst of it.”

Quinn’s shoulders eased, some of the tension leaving his frame. “Thanks. I mean it. I didn’t realize you had so much to deal with too.”

“Welcome to the club of people pretending they're fine when they're not,” you said wryly. “The dues are pretty steep, though.”

A faint chuckle escaped him. “Guess that makes us both members, huh?”

You grinned. “Looks like it.”

For a moment, the weight in the room lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren't just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it was like to carry heavy expectations and try not to buckle under them.

Quinn met your gaze, his expression earnest. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know... I'm around.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and warmth bloomed in your chest. “Same goes for you, Captain.”

For a moment, the tension lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren’t just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it meant to carry heavy expectations and keep fighting anyway.

[karttaylir-darasuum]

a resource page for all your clone related needs

some tips on how to unwhitewash the clones in your content: 1 2 3

a folder of literally, like, 100s of photos of tem for all your reference needs

avoid racist, ableist, & otherwise negative stereotypes when writing about wrecker: 1 2

types of clone troopers

trooper weapons

technical sw terms

every canon named clone up until 2020 (images and names only)

ever canon named clone up until 2021 (images, names, battalions, & jedi officers)

every canon named clone up until 2023 (names and battalions only, no images)

assorted clone lore: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

reader inclusivity (has fic resources + poc moodboard images)

some links + videos about māori culture you might find useful if it's relevant to your works: 1 2

a post regarding the western colonization of hawai'i (while tem is māori & aotearoa is very distinct from hawai'i, they fall under the polynesian/pasifika family and it's important to recognize how the two both continue to be negatively impacted by colonization today)

disability inclusivity

māori, mando'a, and huttese dictionaries

star wars and clone specific fic dividers: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

some things to keep in mind as we're celebrating characters played by and modeled after a māori man:

you can find the full pdf these are sourced from + more information on the subject here

if you're like me and you want to see some māori films that have māori cast members from the star wars universe, here's a list with free watch links where available:

tem's māori-focused films: once were warriors, what becomes of the broken hearted?, river queen, rain of the children, mahana/the patriarch (i'm also fond of a tv show he did called adventurer)

whale rider (keisha castle-hughes, aka queen apailana & emerie karr)

hunt for the wilderpeople (julian dennison, aka clone cadets deke & stak in tbb s3)

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Some more thoughts on Netflix One Piece episode 1 (as someone who has never watched or read the series, so this is the only One Piece content I’ve ever gotten into):

1) I like how Luffy called himself out on shouting out his move set. It definitely feels like the show was made by writers who know their anime-isms.

2) This man Zoro’s jaw is as strong as Captain America’s biceps.

3) Damn, they really got Deke Shaw to play Pennywise. Also, what the fuck, there’s a Pennywise pirate?

4) This show somehow managed to drag Ian McShane out of bed to play the narrator.

5) “Captain Morgan” I see what you did there. I’m assuming that was the intention.

6) Shockingly, not as much rum drinking as I thought there’d be. Pretty sure no one besides me actually cares about that.

7) Part of me is laughing at the fact that I can tell where there would be a backstory flashback in the anime. One of my pet peeves about anime in general is the over-reliance on flashbacks, so the show only sticking to Luffy flashbacks so far feels like a good choice.

8) I know that anime is known for fan service, but I wasn’t expecting to see man ass in the first episode.

Anyways, onto episode 2.

[jedipoodoo]

Bring Them Home (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE EPISODE TWO: PATHS UNKNOWN. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE SEASON THREE PREMIERE. Children, angsty Hunter Edit: STUPID TUNGLR POSTED THIS WHEN I MEANT TO SAVE IT SO PSA-- If you read this before 10pm EST on Feb 27, this one-shot is officially completed so please reread it again and enjoy it in its full glory.

gif by @dreamswithghosts

It had been months since you'd seen Hunter, so of course you and Phee were there when the Marauder touched down in the Archium. Wrecker waved to you both as the ramp lowered, beckoning to someone inside the ship.

Hunter said they were bringing someone with them, but you didn't expect the cadets-- the children --to look so bewildered when they stepped off the ship.

"They're so young," Shep said softly, and you wondered how round and baby-faced they must have been when they left Kamino, the only home they'd ever known.

The three cadets lingered on the steps of the ramp, looking around in earnest while Wrecker waited patiently.

"It smells like Kamino," the tallest said as you approached.

"Mox, did you see the ocean? D'you think they'll let us go swimming?"

"You can do whatever you want here!" Wrecker laughed encouragingly. He gave you his classic thump on the shoulders, and you smiled. It was the happiest you'd seen him since they lost Tech and Omega.

"Hi," You introduced yourself to the cadets, "What're your names?"

"I'm Deke. This is Mox, and that's Stak." The shortest of them stepped forward, while his brothers watched you warily.

"And I'm Phee Genoa, liberator of ancient wonders," Phee smiled warmly at them all.

"Welcome to Pabu," Shep said, "I'm the mayor here. We have a warm bed and fresh food for all of you."

"Thanks," Mox, the tallest, said softly. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Stak's hands fidgeted at his side.

"Wrecker, why don't you and Phee show them the island? I reckon they're as hungry as you."

Wrecker chuckled softly and nodded towards the ship, catching your drift. He beckoned for the kids to follow him. They seemed to trust a clone more than other humans, but that was understandable.

"Have you boys ever heard of Skara Nol?" you heard Phee asking them.

"What's that?" Deke asked.

"It's a big mountain, filled with lots of puzzles!" Wrecker said, waving his arms to demonstrate.

At that point, you'd stepped aboard. The warmth of the sun dissipated as you were enveloped in the Marauder's dim lighting. Hunter sat at the navicomputer to your right, half asleep and blanketed by a hazy blue glow.

"Those boys aren't the only ones who could use a home-cooked meal, you know." You said, putting more weight into your steps so he wouldn't be surprised by your approach.

"I assume you've brought some, then?" He said.

You rolled your eyes and took the canteen of gumbo from your bag.

"Only when you step away from the computer. It won't do you any good to spill it all over Tech's equipment now."

Hunter sighed, and set another diagnostic to run through the files.

"We've got another lead," He said, turning away from the computer. Your heart fluttered at the note of hope in his voice.

"The Intel from the Durands was too old, the kids were all that's left of that lab, but we scraped some data from one of the data banks. We think it could tell us where Hemlock took Omega."

You handed him the spoon, and Hunter tried to eat politely, but it soon gave way to his hunger as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth without waiting to chew.

"Careful, you'll make yourself sick," You warned him, "You've been eating too many rations. I'll have to send you off with some real food this time."

Hunter looked up at you, and you used your thumb to wipe some sauce from his chin, but you couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"You could always come with us. How's your leg doing?"

The only reason you hadn't gone with Hunter and Wrecker when they set out to find Omega was because your femur was broken in the same railcar crash that took Tech. Phee had promised to look out for you and keep you from getting too bored while they scoured the galaxy. Despite your protests, you knew that in your injured state, you couldn't be much help at all.

So you made yourself useful in Pabu. You sewed clothes to replace those lost in the tsunami, you looked after children while their parents rebuilt, you made your family's old gumbo recipe for those who were too tired to cook at the end of the day.

Those like Hunter.

"What about the kids? Deke, Mox and...Stak?"

Hunter nodded, "Shep said there were some families on Pabu who could take care of them for now, he even offered to take two of them into his own house."

"Oh," You said softly, "That's kind of him."

Setting the empty canteen to the side, Hunter squeezed one of your hands as it hung at your side.

"Everything alright, cyare?"

"Oh!" After so long without him, you forgot how well he knew you.

"I just...I was hoping we could take them in, take care of them."

Hunter's eyes softened, and finally stood. "I'll admit I thought about it myself, but..."

"Not while Omega's still captured," You finished for him, dropping his hand and folding your arms.

Hunter's thumb brushed against your cheek, begging for you to look at him.

"You remember that night on Ord Mantell, right?" He asked.

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out, "We spent a lot of nights on Ord Mantell." Too many, to be precise.

"You know the one I'm talking about," He cupped your face in both hands, and you looked up at the dark circles beneath his eyes.

And you did know the night he mentioned. It was a full moon, so you could actually see the moon high above all the neons and smoke from the city. Hunter had made you a promise then and there, and you made one to him too. Nothing like marriage, but something like it.

Biting your lip, you reached up to run your thumb over his crows' feet. His eyes closed, blissfully relaxed beneath your touch. You knew how much he needed to find her. He could never forgive himself if anything happened to you, to Wrecker, or any of the cadets they'd just saved.

"I meant what I said that night," He whispered, eyes glistening as his forehead rested against yours, "We'll have our own family some day, something Kamino and the Empire won't ever be able to take from us. We just have to wait a bit longer."

You sniffled just a bit, and buried your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and when he wrapped his arms around you he leaned more of his body weight on you than he usually did. He felt frail, delicate even, like too much pressure in one place would snap him in half.

Hunter needed you, and you needed him.

"I'm coming with you," You whispered. He sighed with relief.

"Let's bring her home."

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I know it's still pretty soon to make these kinds of assumptions but how much y'all wanna bet that next year at Star Wars Celebration Tokio we'll get an announcement of an animated show about adult Omega leading her own squad?

I mean, her potential team is pretty much already there. Deke, Stak and Mox, for example. Maybe some of the kids from the Vault, though they don't have training with the Force and who knows if they'll ever be able to get it. But you know who has it? Gungi! C'mon Star Wars, give us Omega and Gungi as the Han Solo and Chewie 2.0., don't be scared. Maybe it could also be a great way to bring Cal Kestis to the TV screen? Even Lyana could join their team!

And Pabu would be their home base where they come back from time to time to restock and recharge or lick their wounds or repair their ships and we'd get a glimpse at our boys and their life because there's no way Omega isn't checking in at least once in a while okay?

Not to mention, that if Omega is joining the ranks of the Rebelion as a pilot, there is absolutely no fuckin way she won't be crossing paths with her old bestie General Hera Syndula

[huntershoe]

Back To You (Part Two)

Hunter x Jedi!Reader

Spoilers for tbb season 3 if you haven't watched it yet :}

Summary: You enjoyed your evening with your unusual family after months of being apart. Leading you and Hunter to enjoy your night after months. :)

T/W: mention of scars and describsion of them, hurt/comfort, fluff, Smut, sweet sweet love making, unprotected sex, oral (f/m receiving), fingering, breeding kink, PiV, minors DNI!

A/N: Don't let the beginning fool you, this starts with lots of fluff and ends in pure smut. :)

Word count: 3.8k

Part one

After the sun had already settled and thousands of stars took its place you and the batch stayed in your seats, talking about everything and remembering the old times. Omega eventually invited Lyana over to play and after some time even Deke, Stak and Mox joined, shyly introducing themselves.

They turned out to be the sweetest boys, offering to help tidy the table and help Omega and Lyana as they tried to teach Batcher some new tricks.

It's been a long time since you and the batch felt so at peace. A long time since you got to just sit back down, relax and watch the kids play, knowing that your family is safe and well.

Hours had gone by as you watched the kids come up with new tricks. Cheering every time Batcher successfully did a new trick. At this point everything felt perfect, everyone was in a happy mood, spotting wide grins and barking laughs left and right. At one point, Hunter managed to grab your stool, pulling your closer to him and sneaking his arm around your shoulders.

Kissing your temple, Hunter whispered sweet promises through the whole evening, bathing in your natural perfume.

Only after most of the city around them went quiet did Hunter tell the kids to quiet down and start preparing for bed. Omega managed to convince Hunter to let Lyana sleep over and since the other three young clone cadets were already staying in the same house as the batch, they transformed Omegas room into one giant cove.

At the end all that could be heard were quiet giggles, coming through the window from her room as the adults enjoyed some peace and quiet.

Of course it didn't stayed like that for long since Hunter's hands became increasingly more wandering, exploring your body with light touches, remembering the small curves and lines. Crosshair with his keen sight noticed his brothers wandering hands and couldn't help himself but to tease a little, making Wrecker and Echo join on in, resulting in Hunter groaning and standing up, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you after him.

More amused than annoyed by the teasing you just giggled and waved the boys goodbye as Hunter led you further away and toward the beach.

"Where exactly are you taking me verd?" You ask curiously and adding his nickname. That small nickname made him stop in his tracks for a moment, looking back at you with a  smirk as he turned fully back towards you and pulled you into him, making you gasp at his sudden movement.

"Somewhere without prying eyes, where I don't have to listen to my vode teasing." His voice sounded even lower then usual, more smoky and laced with desire as his hands snaked around your waist and lower. A wide smirk was plastered on his lips as his eyes jumped up and down from your eyes to your mouth. His answer made your head fall back in laughter and your hands sneaked up his chest. When you finally looked back at him your breath caught in your throat when his eyes locked with yours. The moon shone down on him, making his eyes sparkle in a beautiful gray tone as the smile lines around his eyes deepened. You couldn't resist but to grin as you stared back at him. "What?" You asked amused as he kept on staring and not saying anything.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered dreamily, lifting one of his hands up, cupping your cheek and you gladly leaned in and closed your eyes. But as his fingers brushed across your new scars, your brows dipped down and you felt tears threatening to spill. "I was...beautiful." Shame overwhelmed you, making you avert your eyes away from his. "Now I'm full of scars, looking more like a rancor than a human." You addressed the truth, or at least what you thought was the real truth.

"Don't." Hunter interrupted you again, shaking his head as he moved his other hand up to your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "Don't ever say that." He ordered, looking at you seriously. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, the most amazing, beautiful, talented and caring woman in the galaxy. You have gone through so much and you deserve only the best things in your life." Hunter told you, determined to make you see the actual truth. "The scars on your body only show just how strong you are...I only wish you could see yourself as I do." He kissed away the tears rolling down your cheeks as you gripped onto him.

Your body went completely soft and you leaned on Hunter, melting into his embrace as his hands moved to envelope your frame and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. One of your biggest worries was that now that you look like that Hunter wouldn't want you anymore. You knew that just thinking like that was stupid because if you really love someone then their appearance shouldn't matter. But fear sneaked into your mind, making you unsure and scared of loosing the man you love.

"I'm sorry..." You quietly whispered, still hiding your face in his neck and you felt Hunter's hands pull you even closer to him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for cyare." Hunter brought his hand up to your head, gently stroking your hair as he kissed your temple.

You took one last breath, collecting the courage to look at him again. As you did so, you were met with nothing but love in his eyes, that soft sparkle dancing in his eyes as he looked at you. Hunter gave you a small smile and brushed off the remaining tears away from your eyes.

"You're stuck with me for the rest of your life mesh'la."

He said teasingly but the tone of his voice showed just how serious he was being.

You let out a small chuckle and he moved his hand back to your neck, pushing your head forward and leaning it against his own into a keldabe kiss.

Both you and Hunter took a moment to enjoy each other's presence, just breathing in and out, sharing the air between you.

Soon, Hunter couldn't wait any longer, too enthralled with you, he leaned further in, pressing his lips against yours.

The moment his lips met yours, your body instantly relaxed, almost like all previous worries washed away with just one kiss. You pushed your hands up and into his hair, tangling your fingers into his curly locks.

Starving for your touch, Hunter groaned in your mouth, deepening the kiss. His tongue was invading, determined to conquer your mouth as your own danced around his.

Your lips moved around each other, like two pieces of puzzle, made to compliment the other. You kissed until your own lungs began burning with need of oxygen and you pulled away, gasping for air as your eyes found his gold ones instantly.

A small smile appeared on your lips. "What would I do without you?" Hunter's own lips mirrored yours after your question.

His smile grew into a wide grin and he moved, leaving one hand around your shoulders and leaving the other one at his side as he pulled you with him again, leading you both down towards the beach. "C'mon I wanna show you something." Hunter murmured into your ear as you two moved closer to the lagoon.

It was few days away from the moon being full but it was hard to notice the difference as the moon shined so bright, illuminating the path and everything else around. The slow rhythmic waves created a calming ambience as you made it to the sand. Hunter stopped you and moved in front of you, kneeling. Your brows shot up in confusion when he grabbed your foot and slowly took off your shoe, followed by your sock.

"What are you do--oh." Realization crossed your face when he took off your other shoe, pulling the sock with it. The sand was still radiating some heat from the sun, making it perfect to walk across.

Grinning, Hunter stood up and took off his own shoes, storing them beside yours. He took your hand again, pressing a kiss to you cheek before pulling you towards the sea.

The sand felt amazing, making you feel free as you held onto your lover's hand. Your feet hit the sea and a soft smile appeared on your face.

Hunter once again let go of your hand and gently grabbed you by the hips. "I want you to know, you...mean everything to me." He grasped, looking you directly into your eyes before gently kissing you again.

You responded immediately, returning the kiss and grabbing onto his shoulders, smiling into the kiss.

You felt his hands move lower, reaching your ass and squeezing it hungrily, making you gasp into the kiss as he chuckled.  "Hunter...you are the reason I fought to stay alive." You shared, cupping his cheek.

You stayed in his arms for a moment longer before a wicked grin sneaked onto your lips and you jumped away from him, crouching down and cupping the water before swinging your arms and splashing your man.

Hunter gasp loudly, looking at your surprised before a dangerous glint showed in his eyes and he smirked, repeating your actions and splashing you back.

The water hit you, instantly wetting you all over and you squealed before running away. Hunter barked a laugh before chasing after you.

You ran, occasionally splashing behind you, hearing Hunter gasp again and then you would feel him splashing you back. The chase continued for a couple of minutes and by the end, you were both soaking wet. Hunter was steadily nearing you and in one swift moment he grabbed you, swaying you off your feet and you squealed, grabbing onto his forearms around your waist.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, squeezing you close to him before slowly putting you down and turning you around in his arms.

"Fancy a midnight swim?" He suggested, raising his brows.

"Everything to get me naked I see." You teased, sneaking your hands around his slim waist.

"Everything." He confirmed before moving his hands to the hem of your shirt, silently asking for a permission.

You slowly nodded, letting him take your shirt off carefully, leaving you in your bra. He made and effort to throw your shirt at the nearest rock. Hunter slowly lowered his hands, letting them travel down your sides and to your pants, slowly pulling them off, along with your panties. You helped him take them off by lifting your legs, one by one. Grabbing onto his shoulder for some balance.

He did the same by throwing them on the close by rock.

Hunter stayed crouching in front of you, moving closer and kissing your knee. Your cheeks flushed when he continued up towards the inside of your thigh and repeating the same thing on your other leg. He peppered open-mouthed kisses all across the inside of your thighs, coming closer to your cunt. Hunter brought your knee over his shoulder, opening you for him.

You watched, your pupils dilating with lust the closer he got to where you needed him the most.

Finally his lips found your folds, licking stipe after stripe with his tongue across and letting out the most guttering groan at the taste of you. Hunter looked possessed, almost like that the taste of you awoken something in him, he began lapping on your juices. Your eyes fluttered closed and you let your head fall back as a loud moan escaped your lips.

Your hand moved up to his hair and you tugged on his locks, making him groan just as he started sucking on your clit. The vibrations made your whole body shake and your eyes roll back.

His lips move lower and his tongue begins to prodd on your entrance, slowly pushing in as his nose brushes against your sensitive clit. He slowly begins pumping his tongue as deep as he can, taking in your juices and inhaling your sweet scent. You let out a long sigh and began rolling your hips against his face, slowly approaching your high.

Your movement made him groan deeply and you looked back down at him. You met his blown out eyes, dark with desire, hunger almost radiating off of him as he keeps on pumping his tongue into you. Hunters hungry moves made you clench around him, whimpering when he grabbed your ass, squeezing it as he pulled you closer to him. You heard him growl as he moved back up to suck on your clit again and gently biting it, making your body break in half.

Gasping, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge when  Hunter sneaked one of his hands in front and up to your entrance, slowly pushing in two of his fingers. He began pumping his fingers, slowly, sensually and hitting that perfect spot every time and before you could even realize, you fell over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as small gasps and moans escaped your lips along with his name.

But Hunter didn't stop, dragging out your high for as long as possible before you couldn't take it anymore. "Hunter please, I-I can't anymore." You gasped out and he finally stopped, pulling his fingers out and lapping at your juices that began spilling out of you. You felt like you were just about to tip over him, but he stood up just in the right moment, carefully holding you with one hand while the other one which was just inside you came up to your mouth.

"Open." Hunter ordered, pressing his fingers to your lips.

You did so, willing to do everything he wanted.

"See how good you taste mesh'la." He murmured as his fingers entered you mouth and you tasted yourself, that sweet and sour taste that made you moan around his finger as he slowly pulled them out, strings of saliva still connected to your lips.

"Good girl." He praised before pressing his lips to yours and making you taste yourself again.

You couldn't wait any longer and so you began undressing him, your hands working swiftly as you pulled his vest off, throwing it over to the same rock. Exposing the curve of his ribs and his chest and making your hands wander in a feather like touch across his pecs and stomach muscles. Hunters breath hitched and he looked down at you with hunger as your hands moved lower and lower down to his belt.

You fumbled with his belt, trying to untie it as fast as you could, leaning on the tip of your toes and kissing him again. Hunter grabbed your cheeks, smashing his face against yours, your knees buckled as his belt finally came undone under your fingertips. You tugged his pants off, exposing his lower belly. You pulled back from the kiss, panting as you looked down, watching how your fingers stroked his happy trail and how the muscles flexed under your fingertips. Hunter let out a desperate whine, looking at you, pleading to hurry up.

You grinned at him, slowly kneeling and kissing down his chest as you pull his pants lower. As soon as his pants touched the ground, Hunter lifted his legs one after another, stepping out of them. Grabbing them, you start kissing up his thighs, repeating his gesture, feeling his whole body shiver and his knees buckle as your lips came closer to his weeping hard cock. You chuckle, watching him try to restrain himself and his hands clench into fists at his side.

Finally taking pity on him, you kissed the tip of his cock. The sound he let out was downright sinful, accompanied with his eyes rolling back and his lips wide open. Wanting to see and hear more of that from him you flattened your tongue against his hard-on, licking up from the base to the tip. You felt him twitch against your lips and you finally took him in your mouth, tasting the salty precum.

Hunter let out another long groan and his hands shot to your head, knotting into your hair, not pushing, just leading. Sliding him deeper in, you kept your eyes on his as you relaxed your throat and hollowed your cheeks, you went in as deep as you could, before the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and tears pooled at the corners of your eyes. Hunter slowly pulled you off of him, watching how your lips popped around his dick, he stared completely enchanted as you gasped, a string of your saliva mixed with his precum connecting your lips and his tip.

You gasped, looking up at him through you lashes as you once again licked him from the base to his tip before pulling him back into your mouth. Hunter let out a string of curses when you started bobbing your head, gently clenching your teeth around him, feeling every ridge and vein. Taking him as deep as you can again, before you backed off, panting and stroking his begging cock.

You stroked his curved hard-on using both of your hands, rotating your wrists before you moved one hand down to his balls, playing with them.

Seeing his lower abdominal muscles flex, you knew he was close so you hurried up your pace, jerking him off and making him produce the most beautiful sounds a man can make. Hunter couldn't help himself but to thrust his hips needily, nearing his high. You saw his knees buckle and took him in your mouth again, this time however, Hunter couldn't help himself and he fisted your hair, pulling on it and began desperately thrusting his hips as he let out a long groan. You had to grab onto his thighs for some balance as he pushed as deep as he could, making your eyes water and you choke as his cock twitched in your mouth once, twice before you felt a hot stream of his cum run down your throat.

His legs were shaking as he slowly pulled you off of him and you had to swallow before you could take a long breath, looking up at his fucked out face.

You slowly stood up, your legs wobbly from kneeling so he helped you, taking his pants from you as you passed them to him and he threw them on top of the rest of your clothes.

Both you and Hunter were still panting heavily when Hunter pulled you in for a hungry kiss. Your tongues danced with each other and your hands absentmindedly moved back towards your bra, unclipping it and taking it off, throwing it away.

Letting out groaning sigh, Hunter moved his hands down to you ass cheeks, grabbing the greedily. He gently spanked your ass, signaling you to jump and you did, locking your ankles around his waist and your hands around his neck. "What a sight you are." Hunter mumbled against your lips as he began walking into the sea.

"I can say the same for you ner meshurok." You nodded, your lips brushing against his.

The further Hunter walked into the sea, higher the water came, pooling around you and making you press yourself closer to him as the water felt refreshing. Kneading your ass cheeks, Hunter slowly lowered both of you in the sea while kissing every scar down your neck. Letting out a sigh, you moved your head back, giving him more access as he continued loving attack lower down, giving attention to every scar he found and making his way towards your breasts. Finally pulling your sensitive bud into his mouth, he sucked and played with it, rolling his tongue around.

You sneaked your hand into his hair, playing with his locks as he moved his attention to your other nipple while his hands kept on kneading your ass and making you roll your hips against his. That made your clit stroke against his cock, making you both groan.

"Hunter please." You whimpered, begging for his cock and he let go of your nipple making a popping sound as he moved back up to your throat, pressing his lips directly under your jaw. He sneaked one of his hands between the two of you and grabbed his cock, lining it up with your entrance.

You let out a high sigh as Hunter began slowly impaling you on his cock, stretching you out in the most delicious way. Groaning your name against your neck he slowly pushed you lower until he bottomed out.

"Mesh'la." Hunter groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut as you moved your head and kissed him.

He hungrily returned the kiss, pulling you closer as he slowly began rolling his hips up into you, letting you feel every vein. Loving the way his thrusts made you feel, you began rolling your hips with him, gasping when the new movement made him hit that sacred spot with every thrust.

Your eyes rolled back and the air left your lungs as Hunter increased the tempo of his thrusts, making you hop up and down as he growled, grabbing onto you more desperately. He began pounding up into you, mercilessly as his own breathing changed into labored panting.

Before you know it your cunt began squeezing down on him and you saw stars as your eyes rolled back again. All you could hear was Hunters desperate whines and his thrusts became sloppier as he neared his high. A moment later Hunter moved his head, biting down on your shoulder as he came, stilling inside you as he filled you up with his cum.

It took you a good minute of panting before Hunter raised his head to look at you. You leaned your head forward, looking at him, only to be met with his eyes full of love and adoration. You gave him the softest smile and moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it as you returned the loving gaze.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner Hunter." You whispered, expressing your every feeling into the words and tracing your finger across his lips.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner mesh'la." Responded, pressing his lips against yours into a loving kiss.

You felt him twirl you both around, spinning in circles as he slowly lifted you up and pulled his cock out, making you whimper at the empty feeling.

"I'm never letting you go again." Hunter sighed and leaned his forehead on yours into another Keldabe kiss.

"And if something ever happens..." You began, gently stroking his hair.

"I promise you, I will always come back to you."

Translations:

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ~ {Mandalorian way of saying "I love you"]

Verd ~ Soldier

Cyare ~ Beloved one, loved one, darling

Mesh'la ~ Beautiful

Ner Meshurok ~ my jewel

A/N: Let me know what you think and if I missed anything <3

[appalamutte]

When Eric finally, after three hours of deliberation, decides to take a shower, the oven timer sounds from across the apartment.

"Shoot, hon," he says to a sleeping Deke as he scrambles half-naked down the hall and into the combined kitchen-slash-living room. The dog doesn't even pick his head up—just opens his eyes and raises one ear from the worn-down dog bed in the corner beside the couch. "What is your daddy going to do? Forgetting I put some apple turnovers on, Lord, my mind is plum gone."

A small waft of smoke burns at his eyes when he opens the oven door. The turnovers are a touch too crispy, blackened on the bottoms in a way Eric's always disliked and his family's always preferred. He sets them to cool on top of the stove.

He also lights an apple pumpkin candle, just for the hell of it.

Maybe he even still grabs one to eat.

Some hockey game is playing on the television when he goes to sit on the couch. Eric doesn't even remember turning the television on, let alone deciding to watch the game tonight of all things, but the Falconers are currently losing against the Canucks in the fourth quarter and the turnover tastes like burnt flour in his mouth and Eric was fired from his job, for the first time in his life, earlier that morning.

Deke stands from the dog bed—oh, who is Eric fooling, it's an outdoor patio cushion Eric bought on clearance a few years ago that was the perfect size for Deke to lay on—stretches, yawns, shakes sleep off his body and joins Eric on the couch. Noses his way toward the turnover in Eric's hand, digs his paws into the thin cotton of Eric's underwear to stand up, up, up until Eric's forced to shove the rest of the turnover into his still-full mouth.

"Down," he mumbles out, and Deke doesn't listen, but he does lick at Eric's face and that's okay, too.

"Mashkov chips the puck up the ice into Canuck territory, St. Martin goes to pick it up," the announcer is saying, the bright white light of the game clashing with the soft lamplight of Eric's apartment. "Bit of a struggle with Canuck's number twenty-eight, though St. Martin is able to snatch the puck and send it up to Zimmermann, who—"

"What am I going to do with you?" Eric asks once Deke yawns again and lays halfway onto Eric's lap, belly-side up and ears flopped this way and that.

His phone lights up from the side table, buzzes once, then goes dark again. Eric ignores it for all of two seconds before he snatches it up and unlocks it, seeing seven missed phone calls, fifty-two text messages, three emails, a handful of Twitter notifications, and a reminder from Tinder that his profile will be hidden soon if he doesn't log back in to it. That one is immediately deleted, as well as his emails—all from clients who haven't been told he's no longer with the company—but the Twitter notifications grab his attention long enough that he misses out on the goal the Falconers score until the network starts showing replays.

"What a goal! Wow, Rick, I have to say, despite the rough game they've had up until this point, Zimmermann may have just turned their spirits around. I mean, talk about an all-around masterclass of a shot. He's been quiet all night and then he does this? It's like he's been waiting until this moment to make something happen."

The cameras flick through a series of shots: the full rink from above, panning across the team celebrating at the bench, coming in close to where Robinson's pulling Jack down to Mashkov's wide-open arms for a hug. The joy is palpable. The smiles are wider than Eric would expect for a goal in a lost game. Jack doesn't look so frustrated now, not like he was looking the other night over the phone, and he makes eye contact with the camera as St. Martin comes in to pat against his helmet and Jack winks.

He—he winks.

The screen changes to that of the announcers as soon as Eric registers what he just saw. Surely, that wasn't—he didn't—now, Eric might be a gullible person under the right circumstances, but he's not delusional; he knows Jack doesn't know he's watching the broadcast because they haven't talked since yesterday when Jack was still in Seattle and Eric's life hadn't yet fallen apart and today's game was never mentioned. Jack didn't wink for Eric. He winked for the camera, for all the fans, a culmination of the Falconers' media training and Eric's gentle pushing that he needs to be more personable, more charming, at least for the media.

But—something warm settles inbetween the spaces of Eric's ribs and slowly fills the cavity of his heart.

The Falconers still lose the game. The announcers mention that this is now the fourth game the Falconers have lost in a row. Eric watches until the station starts covering highlights from another game from earlier in the day, and when he turns the television off, he finds the apartment to be silent.

Though, not like before. Not like when he first got home from work six hours too early and turned his phone off and fell face-first on his unmade bed. Deke softly snores in Eric's lap now, hot to the touch. It almost smells like home did when Eric was ten and helping his Mama bake after school. For the first time in years, despite the circumstances, Eric doesn't have to set any alarms for a Thursday morning.

Jack's making a layover in New York tomorrow.

That is enough.

[amisonist]

So considering that it’s the 54 anniversary of the moon landing I thought I’d share one of my favorite bits of trivia about the mission (along with a bit of a shitpost). So the first every liquid to be poured on the moon was actually whine as Buzz Aldrin took communion in the lunar module (the bread and whine were blessed a few days beforehand by a priest). Buzz wanted to broadcast the ceremony back to earth but decided not to at the request of Deke Slayton because of the controversy surrounding the reading of the book of genesis on Apollo 8.

Here’s where the shitposting comes in: According to Catholics (and other religions sects that believe in transubstantiation) believe that during communion the bread and whine literally becomes the body and blood of Christ. Which is why imho (despite not being religious in any way) it is perfectly accurate to say that Jesus Christ has landed on the moon

[vintageshanny]

Elvis Top Three - Memphis Songs

Wow, it’s been a loooong time since I posted one of these! I’ve really missed hearing what everyone loves about their favorite songs. With the release of the new Memphis box set tomorrow, I thought it would be a good time to bring this back and ask everyone – What are your top three songs that Elvis recorded in Memphis? As always, there are no wrong answers, this is all out of love. ❤️

Here are my top three (at least for this moment):

Trying to Get to You – I know I’ve mentioned this on other top three posts, but this is one of my favorite songs period. I could listen to any version of this and instantly be in a better mood. The studio version he recorded at Sun is so sweet – you can hear the youthful exuberance in his voice. I also love that he really enjoyed coming back to it throughout his career. A friend recently shared the audio clip below with me, where he says it’s one of his favorite songs he ever recorded.

https://youtu.be/JbCwmt1r-ak?si=ATKstS5Tyrd13TmK

Any Day Now – This is one I keep coming back to, and somehow it just keeps getting better every time I listen to it. His voice in this era, with that soulful rasp, makes me feel some kind of way. His whole delivery on this song is perfection.

https://youtu.be/w7C84m2taWs?si=-2vzMaKZFYCRi-y2

Danny Boy – This is one that was not on my radar too much in the past, but lately I’ve been obsessed with it. If anyone were to tell me he could no longer perform an amazing vocal in his later years, I would direct them to this song. The richness of his low tone, the ability to hit the higher notes, everything about this performance is just exquisite. His voice, coupled with the lyrics of the song, gives me chills. I like to think that all the love we give him is allowing him to rest so peacefully.

And I shall feel, tho' soft you tread above me

And then my grave will richer, sweeter be

For you will bend and tell me that you love me

And I shall rest in peace until you come to me.

I’ve used my old tag list from last time, but anyone please feel free to participate! ❤️

@whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @vintagepresley @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @iloveelvis @argeriant18 @loving-elvis @alienelvisobsession @ab4eva @manebioniclegali @deke-rivers-1957 @rjmartin11 @elvisalltheway101 @devilsflowerr @missmaywemeetagain @cryingabtab @dreamingofep @animalloverthingsss @velvetelvis @everythingelvispresley @arrolyn1114 @claire-elvisgirl @vintage-leisure @blighted-star @queenncreole @basicpresleygirl @lllsaslll @elvissbabygirl @powerofelvis @ashtag6887 @sissylittlefeather @dkayfixates @peskybedtime @burnthheparaphilia @thetaoofzoe @mercsandmonsters @wildhorseinkansas @presleysweetheart @all-hookedup-on-elvis @i-r-i-n-a-a @pebbles403 @msamarican @ladelinee @jhoneybees @from-memphis-with-love @aliypop @theresalwaysep

[oh-to-be-a-murderer]

Found some more news!

So to make things worse yk the previous Sabra post turns out, there's more than just bringing her in.

Sabra was originally a Mutant, a part of the X-men. Her first appearance was in a comic book called "The incredible hulk" There she was introduced as an Israeli superhero. Now, Marvel, since the Avengers tiemline does not match with the X-men timeline, are bringing her in as a widow. I'm not sure about this since she is Israeli and red room is a Russian organisation but I guess they're gonna connect them somehow. I got my information from Google and I'm pretty sure it won't be that incorrect. You can not tell me Sabra was so important they made her change her entire background info. I'm gonna go check if the Widow part is fr fr or not tomorrow. Its 6 am rn and I don't plan on getting any more riled up. Good night... if I can sleep is it.

That was almost an hour ago, says the same stuff, still not 100% sure but I'd say it's about 40% confirmed. Looked at a few stuffs. Yes did not sleep.

One more thing, currently 7 am, here's where I got all my info from

Here's the Wikipedia page

They're bringing in a Israeli actress to play her??? And everyone in the studios is okay with this?????

@official-buckybarnes @we-love-redwing @iwasmadetobeasoldier @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @over-bi-the-wayside @under0-0s @ivanova-web-droid @merc-with-the-m0uth @robschuchu @peterparker-who @peterparker-official @the-awesome-deke @the1-and-only-peggycarter @imnothulk @trading-cards-owner @daniel-barnes-the-ghost @thatone-midgardian @crazyinlovewithmarvel

[agentoffangirling]

How the AoS characters would be around the holidays:

Coulson: He's not a big religious guy, nor really one for holidays in general, but I like to imagine he might decorate the base with lights if nudged by the others

May: Nothing to do with the holidays ever. She makes an ugly sweater look scary

Daisy: She's also not a fan of anything religious due to her upbringing, but she does like the family aspect of it and is mostly the one nudging Coulson to decorate and get a tree. Demands that everyone wear Christmas sweaters

Fitz: I've seen a lot of Jewish!Fitz headcanons and I totally agree; I think he was raised Jewish but he doesn't practice, either way, he's not a huge fan of the holidays. He mostly just stays with Jemma and shares one of those chocolate eggs with her

Jemma: Much more into the Christmas spirit, emphasizing a lot of the "get together" feel of it, she arranges movie nights for the team

Mack: I think he'd go to church for the first half of the day and spend the rest of it with the team. Makes a mean Christmas dinner

Elena: Very similar to Mack, I imagine they'd go together. She doesn't like how Christmas in the US is a lot more commercialized and rants about it a bit

Deke: Does not know what Christmas is and thinks it's kinda weird to have a day where everyone just sits around and chats (survival instincts). He joins in on the movies w/Jemma

[leapingbadger]

Decisions - Chapter 1 - Hunter

Summary: Omega wants to join the rebellion. Can she convince her brothers to let her go?

Check out all 5 chapters out on AO3!

Omega lingered in the doorway to her brother’s room. He was turned away from the door, rummaging under his bed for something but she knew he knew she was there. Hunter probably knew she was on her way as the ship hit the atmosphere.

“You didn’t come to meet me.” she said accusingly as she leaned on the doorframe.

Hunter chuckled; his deep voice was comforting to her in a way she couldn’t express.

“You had quite the welcome party, Kid. Didn’t think you’d miss me,” he said turning around and smiling at her. He was right, Crosshair, Wrecker, Batcher, Deke, Mox, Stak, and Lyana had all been there to greet her.

“I’ll always miss you,” she said sweetly, crossing into the room and throwing her arms around his neck. Hunter’s arms tightened around her back as he pulled her closer. He let her go and took a step back, looking her up and down with pride.

Hunter’s smile came so much easier these days. The ever-present crease between his eyebrows was still there but faded slightly since their time of war. His tattoo was partially covered with a well-kept beard that softened his face as well. He was no longer a soldier, although he hadn’t seemed to settle on what exactly he was these days.

“Nice jacket. Did Hera give you that?”

Omega tugged self consciously at the yellow cropped bomber jacket she wore, “Actually no, it was Sabine. She thought I looked a little ‘country’ for Lothal. Didn’t want me to stand out I guess,”

“Hmm,” Hunter said with a smile,” Well, it suits you. But we have to fix that,” he said, pointing to the orange phoenix like symbol on her upper arm.  

Omega laughed, “what do you mean?”

Hunter rummaged through some drawers before pulling a small round patch out, “I think this one makes more sense,” he said. Handing it over.

She wasn’t sure how she’d never come across it before. She had a habit in their early days on Pabu of going through her brothers things. The patch was round, trimmed in the red of their original armor. The white skull was identical to the one from the armor too. Underneath it, also in red, was an Aurebesh 99. She smiled as she ran her fingers over it tentatively.

“Where did this come from?” she asked

“a survivor of the Marauder, believe it or not.” Hunter said, “it washed up a little while ago. One of the villagers brought it here.”

“Well, thank you. It’s perfect.”

Hunter smiled again, “I’m glad.”

They fell into an awkward silence as the Pabu sunlight streamed through the window of the turquoise room. Perhaps it wasn’t awkward to Hunter, he was used to saying little. Silence could sometimes be as much of a bonding experience with him and talking. But this felt strange, and she wasn’t sure why.

When she was younger, she would have left it alone. Perhaps internalized a reason for his behavior based on nothing but her own imagination. But she was old enough now to speak her mind.

“Hunter, why didn’t you welcome me home.” she asked seriously.

Hunter sighed, one of the great sighs he reserved for when Crosshair or Wrecker were being particularly exasperating. Perhaps she had joined those ranks too, although she wasn’t sure how.

“Because I know what you’re going to ask me, Kid. And I’m just not ready for it. Figured I’d delay the inevitable as much as possible.”

Omega balked. How could he know? How could he possibly know? She had only just got back. This was a conversation she imagined having a couple of weeks from now. Maybe when he’d had one too many glasses of mead and was draped over his favorite bench on the patio, watching the sunset clash with the water.

“I…I don’t know what you mean.” She said finally, hedging her bets, just in case she was off.

Hunter drew himself up to full heigh, pulled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and crossed his arms over his chest, “bantha shit,” he said, simply.  

Now it was Omega’s time to sigh. She pulled her long blonde hair over her left shoulder, fingers nervously tracing through it as though untangling it would untangle her thoughts as well.

“I want to join the rebellion.” She said finally. She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn the moon-yos stopped chattering, the sea stopped crashing and the entire island ground to a halt as she spoke. The silence was deafening, all encompassing.

She chanced a look at Hunter’s face. His twinkling chestnut eyes were fixed on her, his expression blank, his mouth set into a fine line. He too was frozen in place. Finally, he nodded, “That’s what I thought.” He said, running his hands though his hair, the fault line between his eyebrows instantaneously deep and prevalent again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could blame the faint grey hairs at his temple on her too.

“How did you know?” she asked quietly.

Hunter laughed, “Are you kidding? You haven’t been able to stand injustice since you were twelve years old. Sending you to an imperial occupied planet was always going to have this effect.”

“Then why did you let me go?”

“If you recall, I did express my displeasure, Omega.” He said, his gravelly voice suddenly low and fatherly.

It was funny, Omega didn’t really have a concept of what natural borns’ would call a standard family with mothers, fathers etc. She had always just had her brothers. But if she would compare her situation with that of a nat born, Hunter would always fill the fatherly role. He always had.

“I made it back, didn’t I?” she asked smugly, hands theatrically starting at her head and tracing down her body to signify she was back in one piece.

“This time, yes.” He said pointedly, his tone still brooding.

Omega winced. He couldn’t possibly know about the carbon scoring on the side of the ship. Or the blaster marks across the left engine. Or could he? Hunter’s senses and perception did sometimes feel otherworldly.

“If you’d been there, you’d want to help too,” she said sulkily.

“Of course I would,” Hunter said, his voice raised exasperatedly, “Of course, Omega,”

Hunter was suddenly agitated and started to pace the room, his hands pulling through his hair so obsessively that his bandana slipped off to the floor without notice. He looked like a caged animal. His eyes darting this way and that.

“You think I don’t care? I don’t care that Echo is risking his life every day? That the clones are being disposed off as if they were nothing? You think I don’t check the Imperial comm channels to see if they’re getting close to Pabu? Come on, Omega. You can’t be this naive. We don’t have the luxury of fighting them anymore. Not with our history, your history. It will only take one person to find out who and what you are, and the entire fleet will be on top of us. Can’t you see that?”

Omega wasn’t sure how to respond, her heart hammered in her chest as her throat constricted. She wanted to cry, but not for herself. She wasn’t scared of Hunter or angry at him, she was overcome with sympathy for him. Because this is what their life had been like. This abject sense of panic that had permeated every second of their existence for so long.

She had thought he had moved past it, that he had been able to settle, relax and retire. But she couldn’t even give him that because deep in the recesses of his mind, there was always going to be a threat he needed to protect them from. So, the Sergeant was still reporting for duty, just no one else was aware of it.

“Hemlock is gone, Hunter. His data was destroyed. No one knows…”

“We have no way of knowing that, Omega. Maybe the data was lost. Maybe Hemlock was so paranoid he didn’t share his files with anyone. Or maybe he gave regular reports to the emperor himself, and they’re still searching for you to this day.” He stopped himself, an alarmed look on his face, “I’m sorry. I’m…I’m not trying to scare you I just…you’re not some kid from a backwater world who wants to make the galaxy a better place. You were an integral part of an imperial plan, bred by the Kaminoan’s for a purpose we still don’t fully understand. Please tell me you understand the difference.”

Omega nodded, “I understand.” She said, “But I want to do it anyway.”

Hunter sat down on his bed, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly with his eyes closed. Had Crosshair been teaching him meditation while she was gone?

Omega sat down next to him, her head hanging low to match his. She reached up, playfully brushing the few grey hairs at his temple. “How many of these do I owe you for?” she asked with a smile.

“Too many to count,” he said with an eyeroll. They both laughed and the static seemed to come out of the air. Hunter put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. “I’m really glad you’re back,” he said sincerely.

“Me too,” she said, taking a deep breath and basking in the warmth of his embrace, somehow warmer than the heat of Pabu itself.

“Just, do me a favor. Talk to the others, before you decide.” Hunter said, his dark eyes steely and probing.

“Will do,” Omega said, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, “sergeant.”