#with no impact from the things I was changing in the query

[allalrightagain]

I'm a bad IT professional and have continued to use google as a search engine mostly out of prejudice for what duckduckgo was when it first started. However, I am not too proud to admit when I'm wrong, and duckduckgo has just done in one search what google has been convincing me for three and a half days was impossible.

brb changing my default search engine everywhere.

[hugmekenobi]

Next Steps

A Bad Batch Post S2 Oneshot

Gif by @im-no-jedi

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Although your return to the Batch has made things better, there are still elements of your past you have to face...

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, made-up timeline and what I imagine what Echo will be doing, limited use of y/n, swearing, my views on mindsets, referenced 'dead' characters and nightmares, mentions/descriptions of torture, detailed scar descriptions, angst, light fluff, nickname 'sweetheart', some emotional hurt/comfort, body and general worship, Hunter being dominant but a consent king, hint of a praise kink, Smut (non-explicit descriptions of making out/kissing, grinding, edging, fingering, oral (f) receiving, overstimulation, handjob, unprotected p in v- not in reality please), reader described as strong and powerful, smart and beautiful, Force-communication and more of my general interpretation of how the Force feels/works

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Word Count: 12.8K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: Once again, a massive thank you to @burningfieldof-clover for helping me when I got stuck and who I am very grateful to have as a friend! Dropping this before S3 graces our screens and I hope you all enjoy!

Chibbier

Echo waited in the forest clearing as the Marauder touched down. “I got your message. It sounded urgent, is everything alright?” Echo asked as soon as the door to the Marauder opened revealing his two brothers.

“Everything is fine, Echo.” Hunter said.

“More than fine.” Wrecker emphasised.

“But we agreed we weren’t to meet until (Y/N) was back with us so unless you’ve found her…” He trailed off as he saw the smile tugging at Wrecker’s mouth and Hunter in particular seemed more at ease than he’d been in the recent months. “Wait a second, you mean-”

“Hey stranger.” You said with a grin as you came into view and stood between Hunter and Wrecker. You laughed as Echo’s expression changed from stunned to happy then to relief in quick succession. You jogged down the steps and embraced him tightly. “Long time no see.”

“I’ll say.” Echo replied with a smile as he mirrored your actions. “You had me worried.”

“Worried?” You queried. It sounded like he had a specific worry in mind rather than the general worries that had plagued the rest of you for months.

“Last news of you I’d heard had me getting ready to tell the boys to launch a rescue mission.” Echo said as he parted from you. “But lucky for us, they found you before I needed to share that.”

If you weren’t so happy to see him, you could’ve punched him. You weren’t far away enough from the other two and you knew Echo’s words wouldn’t go unheard, especially by the clone with enhanced senses. You hadn’t gotten around to sharing that part of your time alone and you weren’t sure that you wanted to either.

Hunter hadn’t forgotten that there was something about your past that you weren’t telling him. He’d noticed small shifts and changes in your behaviour since you’d been back. It was things like you made sure to keep your top layer on at all times and if you had to take it off, you would always go to the refresher regardless of it you were alone or not which was something you never used to do. You hadn’t communicated with either him or Wrecker in the silent way you were able to do where they’d hear your voice in their head which was something you did regularly in the past. You were also more emotionally and physically distant, the latter happening at night in particular and ordinarily it wouldn’t bother him, but he knew the cause was rooted in something you’d gone through. But every time he tried to broach the issue, you refused to talk about whatever it was that was causing it, and it pained him that he could do nothing but watch the negative impact it continued to have on you.

“What’s going on with, Omega? Any new leads?” You asked Echo instead, ignoring Hunter’s hand that now rested on your upper arm.

“(Y/N)-”

“Not now, Hunter. Please.”

Hunter released a quiet and resigned sigh. He wanted to help you if he could, but he also knew he had to wait until you were ready. It was just getting harder to do that.

Echo glanced between the two of you. “I said something I shouldn’t have, didn’t I?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Just fill us in.”

Echo’s eyes darted to Hunter who only nodded. He took a breath and waited for Wrecker to join the three of you. “Nothing new. Imperial security on Hemlock is tight and any breakthrough just results in more cryptic information.”

“Yeah, we’ve had much of the same.” You agreed irritably.

Echo nodded before he faced Hunter. “I know we said that we’d come together once we had (Y/N) back with us, but I think it’s better if I stay doing what I’m doing. Rex and I are going to meet and try to pool together what we’ve gathered. We can tell you what we find and send you to follow up on other sources since we can’t cover everything ourselves and you can also keep searching on your own.”

Before Hunter could form a reply, the sound of branches snapping grabbed his attention.

The blaster bolt that immediately followed the noise, skimmed the armour on your upper arm.

You all reacted quickly and took cover behind the trees.

The onslaught of fire was being directed towards you and would only occasionally be aimed to your fellow clones as a way to keep them from advancing towards the source. Evidently you were the main target here.

“Hunter!” You shouted over the sound of blaster fire. When he pressed his back against the tree trunk and his helmet looked over to you, you called on the Force and dragged the assailant out from their spot, and a well-aimed shot from Hunter saw to it that the blaster was rendered useless. You kept that link with your ally to Force-push them into another tree, and they crumbled to the floor.

All of you lowered your blaster for the moment. You needed to find out why they were here, killing them immediately wouldn’t get you very far.

You stepped out from behind your tree and observed the bounty hunter carefully. Throughout the firefight, you’d felt yourself being pulled towards them, but you couldn’t work out why and that urge hadn’t gone away.

Stiff and unsteady movements had you readying your blaster again but as the hunter got to their feet and caught your eye, you understood why that feeling was there.

Your heart stopped and you stayed rooted to the spot as you saw the blade ignite from the hilt they were holding. The ground around them illuminated in a pale blue haze and you understood what was calling you to the hunter now. Your feet suddenly began moving of their own accord.

The other three all shared a collective bewildered look at what was unfolding in front of them.

Hunter collected his shock quickly and raised his hand to order the others to halt their fire as you fully stepped out to into the clearing.

The bounty hunter charged for you, but the attack posed little threat to you. Whoever this was had no idea how to use an elegant weapon like this and their grip was heavy and clumsy. It wouldn’t take much for you to disarm them.

You ducked under their reckless and uncoordinated swing, grabbed their wrist, and bent it back until the weapon fell from their grasp. You landed a hard kick to their chest, and they stumbled back. The hood fell loose- now exposing a feminine face- but she wasn’t a bounty hunter you recognised. You didn’t have much time to dwell on that since she grabbed a small knife from her boot and jabbed it towards your stomach. You parried away her strikes before you grew tired of dragging this altercation out. Landing a strong punch to her jaw, you used her dazed disposition to Force-pull her face down to the forest floor and waved the others forward.

Hunter and Wrecker pressed their knees into her back and brought her arms around to firmly hold them behind her.

You paid little attention to what they were doing. You hesitantly walked over to the weapon left discarded on the ground.

“Who hired you?” Hunter demanded as he held her down.

“Fuck off.” She snarled as she fought against their grip, but they were too strong, and she was in a much weaker position than she’d been in ten minutes ago.

Echo merely bent down to reach into her jacket pocket and pulled out the tracking fob and bounty puck. Your holographic image confirming what they’d all suspected.

Upon seeing that, Hunter found himself pushing his knee deeper into her spine, paying little attention to her groans of protest.

“Where did you get this?” You questioned softly, more to yourself than anything. You kept your back turned to her as you knelt down and studied the familiar design on the hilt. You couldn’t pick it up, not yet. You knew what you would feel if you did, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

“What?” The bounty hunter snapped as she went for another attempt to wriggle free, but the two clones kept her tight to the forest floor.

You stiffened your posture as you turned on your heels and strode over to her. You lowered your mask, found your voice, and crouched down to her eye level. “Where did you get the lightsaber?” You pointed back to where the weapon still lay abandoned.

“I’m not telling you a thing, Jedi brat.” She spat.

At her words, Hunter twisted her arm harder, ignoring her pained cry.

You signalled to Hunter to ease up and you stood tall once more and indicated to them both to get her on her feet.

Once they did so, you pressed your blaster against her stomach and brought your lips close to her ear- your voice a quiet but lethal whisper. “You know who I am and what I’ve done to people to get what I want. Do you want to be next?” At her harsh gulp, you kept pushing. “I can’t imagine what that’ll do for your reputation in your community... then again, maybe I can… shall we find out?” You knew you’d done enough as you sensed her flicker of fear. You took a step back and looked at her with a firm glare.

“It was the client I did the job for.” She muttered begrudgingly. She wasn’t about to be maimed or die for a job that wasn’t paying all that much in the first place. She’d worked too hard to be seen as a contender, she couldn’t lose that now.

“And who was that?” Hunter asked again, his voice steely.

“Some shop owner.” She replied irritably.

“A name.” You insisted.

“I can’t remember.”

You puffed out an exasperated sigh and took a half step forward.

“Kedrin! His name was Kedrin!” She revealed fretfully.

You saw the shared look between Hunter and Wrecker. “That name mean something to you?”

Wrecker nodded. “He was the one that told us to go to Christophsis to find you.”

The name meant nothing to you upon initially hearing it but evidently you were involved somehow. You ran the information over in your head. Shop owner… Kedrin… Christophsis… it was starting to make sense in your head and that would mean… Your breath caught in your throat as it hit you. You hadn’t even known his name and you’d taken his only family away from him.

“Why set the bounty on her?” Echo asked coolly, keeping his blaster focused on her.

“Not really supposed to ask.” She grunted. “He just mentioned a dead brother.” She saw the flash of something in your eyes… it looked like regret. “Oh… you killed him.”

You glared at her. You hadn’t had time to fill Echo in yet and this was not how you wanted to go about it.

Echo’s eyes darted from her to you. “What is she talking about?”

“Echo…” You started but a cruel laugh from the bounty hunter interrupted you.

“Oh, she’s achieved quite the reputation. Can’t go far in the Outer Rim without coming across someone who had dealings with her.”

Echo angled his head to face you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. As hard as you were trying to hide it, you looked… ashamed?

“Back off.” Wrecker growled at the hunter as he saw your mask of composure slip for a moment.

“What’s the matter, Jedi? Suddenly the killing and torture got too much for you? If they were all as weak as you, no wonder they’re all gone.” She taunted mercilessly.

“Shut up.” Hunter snarled as he saw the way your fists clenched as you worked on keeping your distress at bay.

But you knew it was a pointless venture. Despite her current predicament, that bounty hunter arrogance was in full flow now that she’d discovered your weakness, and she wasn’t about to stop. Her stare was filled with malice, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of turning away. Your shoulders heaved as you worked on keeping your breathing even and controlled.  

The bounty hunter addressed the clones now. "I didn’t get much guidance from my client aside from ‘kill her’ so ever since I picked up that bounty, I've been trying to think of the most chaotic way to take her out. She's obviously felt enough emotional turmoil that an easy death would be a mercy. Jedi don't deserve the luxury. I like to play with my food before I kill it."

“And how’s that worked out for you?” You retorted though your conviction was weak as her words found their mark and her sneer told you she was completely unbothered about her current situation now. Your only plan involved letting her overconfidence be her own undoing.

“Nice try.” She mocked. “For a moment I believed your threats but now that I’m really looking at you, I know you don’t have it in you to kill me anymore. You’ve gone soft and you’re pathetic I can see it in your eyes- you’re haunted by what you’ve done, Jedi.”

Your jaw clenched and you could feel those emotions you’d worked so hard to control start to rise to the surface.

“I’m getting outta here and I fully intend to finish what the Empire started-”

Hunter’s fatal shot to her chest silenced her and she flopped to the ground.

“Looks like you have something you need to deal with first.” Echo advised Hunter as he destroyed the puck and tracking fob for good measure before he holstered his blaster. He faced you. “I still don’t know what happened whilst you were on your own, but your past is your own, I won’t hold anything against you, we’re still okay.” He reassured you.

You barely managed a nod of acknowledgement as her words were still replaying in your mind, but you wouldn’t let it show. Instead, you took out your vibroblade and cut a section of her clothing. You stayed silent as you took the piece of fabric and wrapped the lightsaber in it. You knew it was a lame gesture- especially since you immediately felt that rush of connection as you lifted it- but it provided you with a false sense of security that you would rather have because the second you made unrestrained contact with it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist or turn your back on it again. You held the hilt tightly before you waved farewell to Echo and made for the ship.

Hunter nodded absentmindedly at Echo’s words whilst his gaze was fixed on you. He knew seeing that lightsaber might bring back some memories, but the intensity of your reaction told him there was more to it than simply remembering that period of your life. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and reached his hand out to Echo. “Be safe, Echo. We’ll be in touch once we’ve dealt with this.”

“You too.” Echo replied, meeting Hunter’s hand in a firm handshake before they parted, and he watched Hunter head back to the Marauder.

“See you later, Echo.” Wrecker said warmly as he lightly slapped his brother’s shoulder before he followed Hunter to the ship.

--

“What’s so special about this lightsaber?” Wrecker asked as the ship entered hyperspace.

Hunter leaned against the entrance to the cockpit, arms crossed as he studied you. Your eyes hadn’t left the weapon sitting in your lap.

“It’s mine.” You said quietly.

Hunter immediately straightened up. “It’s yours?” He repeated.

“Yup.” You cleared your throat and brought your eyes up to face the two clones. “I figured it would’ve been destroyed in Order 66. Guess not.” You said with a resigned sigh.

“Woah! Talk about lucky!” Wrecker said excitedly but you didn’t seem to match his enthusiasm. “This is good news, isn’t it?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

“I don’t know what kind of news it is, Wrecker.” You said honestly.

“What’s your hold up?” Hunter asked curiously.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty handy weapon to have and if it belongs to you, isn’t it better that it’s back with you?” Wrecker followed up.

“It’s difficult to explain.” You deflected.

“Try us.” Hunter encouraged gently.

You shot him a look, hoping he would drop it but the look in his eyes told you that he was not for dissuading. You released a short breath. “It would be like taking back a section of my life I was ready to leave behind. That I had left behind… for years.”

“And you don’t know if you’re ready to reconnect with that part of you yet?” Hunter guessed.

You shrugged in complacent agreement. “Making the choice to leave the Jedi Order was already difficult and leaving my lightsaber…. well, that was hard enough the first time and now that I have it back… I don’t know.” You ran a hand over your face. “It’s just complicated.” You got to your feet and carefully put the lightsaber on a shelf in the cockpit.

Wrecker slapped his hands against his thighs. “Well, I always think things look less complicated after a good sleep, what do ya say? We all could use some rest before we sort out this Kedrin guy.”

Sleep didn’t provide you with much respite these days, but you hummed out a quiet laugh and shared a brief smile with Hunter. “Sounds like a good idea, Wrecker.”

--

Hunter jolted awake, panic setting in as he reached for you only to find that you weren’t there, and he had a horrible feeling that he hadn’t woken up yet. But no, he could hear Wrecker’s faint snores, so he had to be awake, and he knew he was back with you, it wasn’t a trick. There would be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t lying next to him right now.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. You were here, you’d been here for a while now. He’d found you; you were okay. It wasn’t like before. You were probably just in the cockpit. Yes, that’s where you had to be.

When he felt himself calm down, he got to his feet and noiselessly made his way there but paused in the entryway as he saw you reading one of Tech’s old datapads, top layer still on, feet tucked up beneath you as you sat in the pilot’s seat. He thought he’d gathered them all. “Where’d you find that?” He rasped; his voice still thick with sleep.

You jumped in your chair as you heard him. You had been utterly absorbed in what you were reading, you hadn’t sensed him approach. You looked up to see Hunter standing in the doorway to the cockpit. “Tucked behind the medkit. I forgot how much Tech truly recorded.” You said in fond remembrance although there was an overall sense of sorrow in your voice. You flashed him the title of the current report you were reading. “Remember that mission on Ryloth?”

“You and Wrecker got separated from the rest of us and decided to blow up the target from the inside and escape through the garbage chute if I remember correctly?”

“Right.” You said with a soft chuckle.

“Pretty sure that was the mission that made you a fully-fledged member of our squad, Wrecker couldn’t stop raving about you after that. I was almost jealous.” Hunter managed to joke.

You gave him a small grin at that before you turned off the datapad and properly took him in. “Guess you couldn’t sleep either?” You asked in a hushed voice as Hunter stepped further into the cockpit.

Hunter merely shook his head and sat across from you.

“Nightmares?” You figured as you delicately put the datapad back and sat in your seat once more.

“I prefer calling them recaps.” Hunter muttered dully as he sat across from you.

You reached for his knee and squeezed it comfortingly. “Do you want to talk more about them?”

Hunter shook his head. “You know and lived it all too and being here with you helps anyway. What about you?”

“Just a lot weighing on my mind.” You said airily as you brought your hand back to your lap.

Hunter made a small noise of quiet understanding. He hadn’t been expecting much more by way of a response from you.

“I don’t know how he does it.” You whispered in sad envy as you jutted your chin over to where Wrecker was sleeping soundly.

Hunter followed your gaze and sighed. “It’s the only way he can switch off. Especially in the early months, he struggled with remembering everything.”

“Yeah, any form of healing from all this won’t be easy.” You said with a heavy breath.

“Wrecker might be able to sleep better than we can, but he keeps a blaster by him and has his hand on it at all times. I don’t think he ever wants to be caught off guard again.” Hunter replied solemnly. “Moving on won’t ever be simple.”

You dipped your head in agreement and leaned back in your chair.

The minutes ticked by and the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m going to be selfish for a moment, okay?”

You tilted your head at him and adjusted your posture to give him your full attention. “Okay…”

Hunter took another breath, his throat bobbing before he spoke, “You can’t leave me to wake up alone like that.”

It hit you immediately. Fuck, you’d been an idiot, of course you couldn’t do that. If he’d done that to you, you would lose your shit. How could you have been so stupid? “Hunter-”

“I had one night too many of waking up to a cold and empty space and worrying about where you were and what was happening to you. I can’t go through it again, I won’t. Not anymore.”

You’d been so wrapped up in your own head, you hadn’t even considered what that would do to him, but you should’ve known better, especially because your reaction would be exactly like his. You quietly stood up and closed the short gap between you to straddle his lap.

He accommodated you in an instant and his eyes fluttered shut as you gently stroked your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” You soothed as you placed delicate kisses to his face whilst you moved your hands to rub up and down his chest, his sleep clothes warm and soft beneath your palms.

Hunter caught your wrists and tenderly caressed the scars left there as a result of what you’d endured in Cid’s parlour. “I barely lived through it once and I won’t do it ever again. I don’t care what time it is, if you’re up and struggling with something you wake me up with you. I’d rather that than wake up without you and have that pain and panic set it again. Promise me… please.” He begged, brushing some strands of hair back behind your ear as his eyes looked deep into yours.

You nuzzled into his neck and placed a gentle kiss on his pulse point. “I promise.” Your lips traced his jaw. “And you promise too.”

“I promise.” Hunter agreed and he tucked his fingers under your chin and brought your lips to his.

You had wanted to keep it short and sweet, but you soon found yourself physically incapable. One gentle nip from him on your bottom lip and you were done for. The kiss soon turned hungry and desperate. The two of you were consumed by a passion you’d had no outlet for yet, and you were getting completely lost in the moment. Your hands threaded themselves in his hair and you pressed yourself against him as he deepened the kiss and squeezed your hips to get you to subtly grind against him which were instructions you were only too happy to follow.

It was all over though when you felt his hands start to reach the bottom of your shirt and brush against your bare skin. Instinctively, you flinched away, and you crashed back to reality. You knew what marks you were concealing, and what he would feel if he lifted your shirt, and it wasn’t something he should have to see. “I- I can’t.” You panted against his lips. Your body yearned for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go any further, not yet. Everything was still too fresh, and you couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted to.

Even though his body burned for you, he’d never push you into this, but he wanted to share the burden of whatever it was that was tormenting you. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?” Hunter murmured breathlessly as he glanced up at you.

You swallowed thickly. “I want to but-” You released a low, shaky breath. “It’s- it’s hard to talk about.”

Hunter stroked your cheek. “Well, when you’re ready, I’ll be right there.”

You pressed your lips into his palm.

“Come on, let’s try to get some rest. We’ll arrive at Nelvaan in a few hours.” He kissed your forehead before you got to your feet and the two of you made your way back to your bunk.

--

“Y- you’re supposed- supposed to be dead!” Kedrin exclaimed fearfully as he cowered behind the main counter upon seeing you standing in the doorway of his shop, the two clones on either side of your shoulders.

“You should’ve sprung for a better bounty hunter then.” You countered as you walked towards the store owner. “I have some questions for you.”

“No, I’m not dealing with any of you ever again!” Kedrin reached underneath the counter and pulled out a blaster and pointed it at you.

You stopped your advance and raised your hands in surrender. “Kedrin, I just need to talk to you.”

“Fuck you! You don’t get to use my name and talk to me like what you did to me was nothing!”

You internally cringed at the memory of what you’d put him through.

“Did you even know he was my brother?!” He shouted in anger. “Did you even care, you heartless bitch?!”

Hunter tensed beside you.

You lightly grazed his hand with your own to tell him it was fine but at the same time shame coiled in your gut. You lowered your mask and kept your voice low and composed. “Kedrin-”

“Stop using my fucking name, you never bothered with it before!” He then turned his rage to the clone that stood closest to you. “And you! I still have the scar from you!” He yelled at the clone on your right, the blaster in his hand still quivering as he aimed it between the three of you.

Hunter stood unwavering beside you and said nothing.

You saw how unsteady his grip on his blaster was. “You’re not a killer, Kedrin. It’s why you sent the bounty hunter after me in the first place.” You said as an attempt to talk him down but the Force around him was in complete chaos, the only emotion that had any kind of control was his anger and that was dangerous. You knew the kind of pain and wrath the loss of a loved one could unleash, and it was why you’d never wanted to put anyone through it in the first place but now you were seeing the impact of your mistake firsthand.

“You killed my brother you fucking bitch!”

You sensed him getting ready to pull the trigger. “Kedrin-” You ducked as the blaster bolt came straight for your head. You channelled the Force and took the blaster from his hand whilst Hunter and Wrecker used that distraction to advance and subdue him. They shoved his head and torso down to press against the countertop.

“Do you want one to match?” Hunter threatened as he reached for his vibroblade and held the sharp point just above Kedrin’s unmarked hand as he and Wrecker held him down.

“Hunter, it’s okay.” You said, pulling him back from that line the two of you had agreed to keep each other from as you saw the way his grip strengthened and the wince of pain Kedrin couldn’t conceal.

Kedrin kept looking for a way out of their hold but was proving futile. “She murdered my brother.” He whimpered as he continued some half-hearted attempts to free himself.

“You’re right. I did.” You approached him and crouched to meet his eyeline. “And it was a mistake that I’m plagued by to this day. All I can do is say that I’m sorry. I know you’d love nothing more than to kill me too, it would probably feel great but please, please Kedrin, don’t do this. It won’t end well for you.” You begged. When his resistance finally ceased, you turned your attention to Hunter.

“Give us a minute.” You said to Hunter, resting a hand on the top of his shoulder.

“But-” Hunter got ready to argue.

“Hunter.” You interrupted firmly and fixed him with a stern stare.

Recognising that tone and look in your eyes, Hunter released a disgruntled but compliant sigh and nodded to Wrecker to let him go. He holstered his blaster and sheathed his vibroblade before leading the way out.

As you heard the door shut, you stepped back from the counter to give Kedrin some space. “You have no reason to trust me, but I promise that I’m not going to hurt you, that’s not why I’m here.”

“You’re- you’re not here to kill me for the bounty hunter?” Kedrin asked warily.  

You shook your head. “There was a time where that’s what precisely I would do and I wouldn’t even hesitate, but you’re not the person I’m supposed to be hurting and neither was your brother. I know nothing I say will bring you comfort but I am not here to kill you. I only want to talk.” You said sincerely as you put your weapons to the ground and faced him calmly.

Kedrin massaged his right shoulder- which had been on the receiving end of a particularly harsh grip from the clone you referred to as ‘Hunter’- and narrowed his eyes at you. “What is it exactly that you want to talk about?”

“This.” You placed the lightsaber on the counter and unwrapped it. “Where’d you get it?”

Kedrin wasn’t buying that that was all you wanted to know about, you had to be here for revenge. “How do I know you won’t do some magic thing like you did last time?”

You released an irritated sigh. “Because if I was going to do that, I would’ve done it already. I won’t lie, I can’t leave here with you still intent on sending hunters after me or I will have to do some things neither of us will enjoy, particularly you. I will always regret taking yours away from you, it was never part of my plan to leave someone alone, but my family is still counting on me, and I can’t have anything messing that up. Please, leave us alone and I’ll never bother you again after this.”

Kedrin angled his head and regarded you inquisitively. His body was still filled with fear of being alone with you, but it was like there was a different person standing before him- you seemed genuinely upset and sorry; and that in of itself would be punishment enough- better you feel the guilt of what you’d done than have an easy out. “You’re the most terrifying person I’ve ever met but for some reason, I believe what you’re saying. No more bounty hunters.”

You felt into the Force around him but there was no dishonesty or deceit. “The lightsaber?” You redirected his attention to the weapon on the counter.

Kedrin shrugged. “What about it?”

“Where did you get it?” You repeated impatiently.

Kedrin flinched at your tone and- not wanting to risk upsetting you any further- started wiping down some glass cases to channel his nervous energy and spoke quickly. “I’ve had it for a while, couldn’t tell you who gave it to me. Just that they were employed to be a part of the clean-up after your lot betrayed the Chancellor and found it and wanted a souvenir of the experience.”

You coughed and bit back the flurry of insults and threats that nearly escaped your mouth.

Kedrin, now so focused on his task that he was oblivious to your discomfort, carried on in a restless ramble, “Guess they ran into tough times during the transition period and wanted rid of it for some quick cash. No one really wanted to buy it though, it just sat there which was why I gave it to that bounty hunter.”

You felt your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you realised what this could mean for you. Leaving it behind had been an active choice to cut part of yourself off from the Force and now you had a chance to feel the Force flow through you as a single entity, no more jagged or disjointed connections… but you didn’t know if you were ready for that yet, it was too much to even comprehend. If it had survived everything and found its way back to you… did that mean that you could too?

“So, um are you going to pay for it?” He dared to ask but your sharp and cold glower had him gulping nervously and wringing his hands. “Uh, never mind, you can take it.” He said hastily. “Just let us be done with each other.”

You said nothing to him, you only covered it once more, picked up your other weapons and exited the shop.

--

“Everything okay?” Hunter asked as you emerged from the store.

“We were going to go get some supplies if you want to join?” Wrecker added.

“I need a moment. You guys go.” You said, giving Wrecker your concealed lightsaber and avoiding eye contact with them both as you hurried back to the Marauder.

--

Having found a moment of relief under the warm water, you got out of the shower and started to towel off and redress but as you pulled your tank top over you, you realised you’d left your long sleeve out by your bunk. You swore under your breath and only hoped the other two would take a bit longer on the supply run. You dashed out the door of the refresher and started to rummage through the bunk for it.

“Who did that to you?”

You whipped around to see Hunter stood frozen in the entryway to the Marauder. “Dammit Hunter-”

“Who did that to you?” He repeated heatedly, his concern and rage rising each second. The sight of the deep and cruel scars that disappeared from your upper back beneath your shirt to the rest of your back was engrained in his mind and any plans of waiting for you to come to him evaporated as his anger and protectiveness overcame him.

Wrecker stepped up beside his brother, put the supplies down and your weapon on a shelf. He nervously glanced between the two of you and it didn’t take an enhanced skill for him to pick up on the way Hunter was trembling with fury. “Eh, what’d I miss?”

Hunter ignored him and kept his eyes on you. “Who was it?”

You turned back around to grab your shirt and it was then that you heard Wrecker’s sharp inhale as he too now saw what it was Hunter had seen. You fiddled with the fabric, twisting it tightly in your hands. “It wasn’t like it was solely one person. Just forget about it.” You muttered aloofly.

“No, I can’t just forget about it. Who. Hurt. You?” 

You sighed heavily and half-turned to face the two clones. “It was a two for one special.”

“Don’t.” Hunter chided sternly. He couldn’t have you make light of this, not when he’d seen what you’d gone through now. He couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer anymore and, as awful as a part of him found it, he had to push you now.

There was no leeway in his voice, you weren’t going to be able to dodge and weave your way out of this conversation now. “Basically, it was both Imperial Stormtroopers and their higher command officers.” You swallowed harshly. “They- they worked together on this one.”

Hunter simply stormed away from you to the ship’s controls. “Wrecker, let’s get the ship in the air.”

“You’re going to go after every Imperial officer and stormtrooper in the galaxy?” You scrappily tugged your top layer over you and hustled after the two of them as they strode into the cockpit.

“If I have to!” Hunter growled.

“I’m with the Sarge on this one.” Wrecker agreed severely as he started to power up the ship.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought but that’s not logical nor practical!” You argued.

“Don’t talk to me about practicality when they did that to you!” Hunter shouted angrily.

“It was my fault, Hunter!” You yelled back.

That caused both of them to pause and Wrecker turned off the engine.

“I did it to myself.” You said, your voice scarcely above a whisper as you braced yourself for the time you were about to relive.

“What are you talking about?” Hunter asked, his voice as quiet as yours now as he studied your face carefully.

“Before I tell you, I need you both to stay calm. Especially you.” You said to Hunter. You knew he wasn’t mad at you; his reaction had been exactly as you’d expected. His fierce protectiveness was a quality you loved about him, but it could be his undoing if he wasn’t careful. “And you need to know and accept that nothing would’ve changed it, it wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I acted in poor and emotional judgement and there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. Please, trust me on this.” You insisted with a pleading stare at him before you looked to Wrecker who- albeit hesitantly- nodded. You glanced to Hunter again who was still looking like he could take on the Empire singlehandedly. “Hunter?”

Hunter felt a keen sense of dread at your words, and it was highly likely he wouldn’t be able to view it quite as simply as that, but he allowed himself a deep and calming breath. He’d do this for you. “Tell me.”

You exhaled nervously and fidgeted with your hands. Realistically, you’d known you wouldn’t be able to go through the rest of your life without being found out or talking about it but that didn’t make doing this any easier. “I’m sure I don’t really have to go into how hard it was to find each other, right? I’m sure you guys had your fair share of failed leads and things were pretty hopeless for a while, yes?”

Hunter and Wrecker both nodded.

You took another breath. “Right, well, it was the same for me. During our time apart, nothing I did was getting me any closer to you and I could feel it draining me every day. Lyra and I arrived on Christophsis and decided to settle there but it didn’t help. No matter how hard I searched, no matter how much of myself I gave up when it came to getting what I wanted, nothing was bringing results, and I was angry. I was angry, frustrated and just miserable. And it was in that poor state of mind that I made a choice that I shouldn’t have.”

Hunter knew those emotions all too well and he’d get incredibly impatient and unfocused when they got overwhelming, but he’d been fortunate to have Wrecker around to pick up the load when it got too much. Yes, you may have had Lyra, but he knew you and how you operated, and you would’ve put it all on you, regardless of how exhausting it would’ve been and that’s what made him nervous as he awaited further explanation.

You shuffled your feet. “I was being a bit of a nuisance to the Empire wherever I went, Christophsis was no exception, but I was getting nowhere on the information front so, in my slightly unstable state, I figured the best way to find out about you or even Hemlock was to um well, find it straight from the source.”

Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. “No, no you didn’t.”

Wrecker looked between the two of you in confusion but then it clicked with him too and he stared at you, horrified. “Why would you do that?”

You swallowed thickly. “I thought that by handing myself in, I would be able to get the information I was needing. I figured they would have some form of intel on you I could use.” You huffed irritably as you remembered how foolish you’d been. “Turns out they were a lot smarter than I gave them credit for and they sussed out my plan pretty quickly.”

You winced as Hunter threw his helmet and it crashed against the wall. You expected no less but you needed to reign him back in if you had any chance of recounting the whole story. “That’s not staying calm.”

Hunter got to his feet and paced; his distress evident. “We were on your trail! If I’d been faster and picked our sources more carefully, you wouldn’t have had to-” Hunter seethed. How could he have failed you so badly? You’d put yourself through hell for their sake and if he had gotten to you sooner, you wouldn’t have had to have gone through this.

“Hunter, no.” You shook your head to stop him from putting the blame on himself. “The whole reason I did it was because the trail was running cold, and I was desperate. It was all on me. and I’m not done explaining this yet and it doesn’t get better, but you can’t do this. I understand and appreciate where it comes from, but it won’t help now, okay? Just let me finish it.”

Hunter clenched his jaw but did as you asked. He sat back down and nodded at you to continue but he was helpless to stop the anxious shaking of his leg.

You gritted your teeth as you prepared yourself for what you had to do next and any levity that you’d previously been forcing into your voice vanished. “Since they knew what I was and some of the general history between all of us, it’s like I said, they were aware of what I wanted, and they definitely weren’t up for giving it to me. They finally had me under their control, and they were very good at making sure I wasn’t getting away any time soon. Honestly, they were pretty creative with their methods and I’m sure some of them found doing what they did to me quite therapeutic.” That dismissive attitude slipped back in at the end without you meaning to. Frankly, you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for the sharp and worried looks from Wrecker and Hunter. You mentally checked yourself before you proceeded.

“Where they showed their inexperience however was when they got frustrated at how little I gave them. I don’t think they realised how hard it would be to crack someone like me. Their fists, their whips, their electrostaffs… it all hurt but it wouldn’t get me to talk. So, they went for something different, and that was what got them quite close.” You stopped again and found yourself touching the small pinprick scar as you remembered the sharp sting and then the complete haziness that would follow that would render your completely susceptible to anything they would do and say. “Whatever concoction they’d inject into my neck when they got bored or too tired from physically hurting me was nearly impossible for me to resist and that was a terrifying experience... I was having to fight my own mind while they happily watched on. That interrogator droid would enter, and- and my body would go cold with fear every time.” You paused for a chance to gather yourself and squeezed your eyes tight to rid yourself of the memories of that dark, cramped room they would take you where you were helpless to their cruelty and the last thing you would clearly recall would be the whirring of that droid approaching you.

You took another breath before you continued to speak. “That was what came close to breaking me and they worked that out. Every day they would inject me with that serum to make me submit to their words and they would tell me you were right outside. They- they would tell me that I would see- see you all again if I only told them how much I knew about Omega and where I was hiding…. And every day I would have to remind myself that it was all a lie… that you weren’t there, and I couldn’t reveal anything since that would put Lyra in danger too.” You released a shaky breath. “Or they’d try to convince me that you were going through the same thing I was and- and it was my fault and to get- to get it to stop I would have to tell them everything.” You felt a lump form in the back of your throat, but you forced yourself to talk through it. “They could beat me all they wanted but that was the thing that actually left a mark… these scars merely came with the territory.”

A troubled silence fell upon the walls of the Marauder as you finished. You picked at some imaginary lint on your leggings as a way to bring your emotions under control.

Hunter felt sick to his stomach. He could’ve saved you or made it so putting yourself in that position would never have needed to seem like a viable option. You’d needed him and he hadn’t been there. He’d let you down.

You caught a glimpse of his expression changing from anger to defeated sadness and he didn’t need to vocalise those thoughts; you were perfectly aware of what would be going through his head. “It’s okay.” You mouthed silently to him.

You shouldn’t be the one comforting him. A broken and anguished sigh left his throat. Okay? How was any of this okay? You’d subjected yourself to torture for them and had carried the burden of it by yourself for so long.

“How’d you get away?” Wrecker asked in quiet upset as he imagined you experiencing that.

You coughed and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “Truth be told, it gets a bit blurry near the end. I…” You trailed off and frowned as you worked on accurately recalling what had gone down the day you got out. You hesitantly started your explanation again. “I remember overhearing that they were going to send me off world to a high security prison and I couldn’t have that. The trooper who put the cuffs on me to take me back to my cell was a rookie, I think he figured I was unconscious, so he used the regular ones that didn’t restrict my Force-wielding abilities. Then the dizziness and blackouts set in, I remember finding the strength to take him out, but I don’t exactly know how I proceeded from there. The next thing I do remember was collapsing outside the door to where we were living and Lyra dragging me inside.”

“Hunter?” You looked to him since he hadn’t said anything yet.

Hunter’s throat had gone so dry, he couldn’t summon words immediately. All that was racking through his head was how he could’ve prevented this and how he should’ve been there to save you. You never should’ve been the one to drag yourself out of that hellhole. The protective part of him wanted to find a way for you to come up with any identifying features that could assist in hunting down those who’d inflicted that pain on you but despite all you’d relayed to them, he was calmer now and he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. He may have failed you then, but he wouldn’t now. His focus now lay in what he could do for you now but there was an element to the explanation he was missing and once he had that, everything else could fall into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He murmured instead.

There was no accusation in his eyes, no pointedness or blame in his tone. You knew he just wanted to understand, and it was a fair question. “I was working on compartmentalising it; it was just going badly. And-” You stopped yourself from continuing and instead just started to back away. ���Nothing.”

“And what?” Hunter pressed as he got to his feet and caught your hand before you could step away any further.

You shook your head. “It’s a stupid reason, I shouldn’t care about it.”

“Nothing you’re feeling about this is stupid. I might be able to help, you only need to tell me.” Hunter prompted tenderly as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

You regarded him carefully, attempting to find some deception or falseness in his tone so you didn’t have to say it but, unsurprisingly, you didn’t find any. You bit your lip before speaking, “I didn’t want you to have to see them. They’re- they’re not exactly nice to look at.” You muttered as you dipped your head to stare at the floor.

The fact that that was even cause for concern felt like a punch to the gut but at least there was something he could do about it. He may not be able to go after the Imperials like he wanted but he could help you realise that was a non-issue for him and one that hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Wrecker, take a walk. I’ll be in touch when you can come back.” Hunter ordered his brother.

Wrecker wasn’t about to question him, so he did as he said. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder in comfort. “Thank you for telling us.” He said before he left the ship.

You went to address Hunter, but he spoke first.

“Turn around.”

Your brow furrowed but you couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed in your stomach at his words. “What?”

“Turn around.” Hunter repeated, his tone quiet but filled with dominance.

Despite your lingering questions as to what exactly it was that he wanted, you found yourself doing as he instructed. You could feel the heat in your stomach start to radiate throughout the rest of his body. Each steady thump of armour hitting the ground had goosebumps rising on your skin in anticipation and you felt him crowd your back and rest his chin in the space between your neck and shoulder.

Hunter kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear and as he felt you relax into him; he slowly grabbed the hem of your long-sleeved layer and lifted it over your head and dropped it to the floor of the ship. He didn’t let his eyes fall to the scars yet. Instead, he caressed the trail of goosebumps on your arms and continued to pay close attention to your neck, softy nibbling the areas that he knew would make you weak at the knees.

He could play your body so well; it was like the two of you hadn’t been parted for as long as you had been. You could feel yourself growing more and more compliant to his touch and desire coursed through your body. You only snapped out of it when you felt his touch go lower and he tugged the bottom of your vest top. You went stiff and immediately grabbed his hands in a panic. “Hunter, no. You-”

“Easy.” He soothed as he pressed delicate, featherlight kisses to the back and each side of your neck. “Trust me.” He rasped against your skin, but he waited for your signal.

You released a low, unsteady breath. You couldn’t live in this state of fear and shame forever. You trusted him with everything you had and that was why you felt yourself letting go of his wrists. Your breathing grew uneven, and your body trembled as you felt his bare hands graze underneath your vest top before, they held onto the hem of it.

“Relax… it’s okay. You’re okay now. Let me see.” He encouraged gently, only lifting when he saw you nod your permission.  

His gaze finally dipped to your bare back, and he had to fight to keep his breathing calm as he felt his heart shatter once he saw the full extent of what had been done to you. Your back was a map of merciless and vicious scars, and he wanted nothing more to take away the pain they’d caused you and inflict it on his own body. But that was the only effect they had. He was not repulsed, not repelled by the sight of them. They did nothing to ruin his physical perception of you. You were every bit as beautiful to him now as you had been when he first met you on Devaron all that time ago. “You’re exquisite.”

You refused to believe that. These were different to the scars you were both used to that came with the impact of battle and you were under no illusions as to how unsightly they were. You went to turn to face him so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at them and to protest his words, but he sensed that and beat you to it.

“These do not define you. They do not define my view of you. You are strong, you are capable, and you are a force to be reckoned with and that is why I love you.” He started to lightly touch each one. “No amount of scarring is going to change that. You. Are. Beautiful. I will be there to remind you of that whenever you need it.” He pressed his mouth to the space between your shoulder blades.  

Your body trembled under his touch and his sincerity threatened to overwhelm you. “Hunter-” You managed to choke out.

“I would tear the galaxy apart for you, if you wanted me to.” He hummed against your skin as he continued to trail his lips down your back, worshipping every mark that had been left on you so as to leave a new association with them now. “But I know that’s not what you need.”

A quivering breath left your lungs at his words and ministrations, and you knew you felt the same way. But it was because the two of you were aware of that line that your relationship worked so well- you could balance the sentiment with intent. You could feel him starting to make his way back up your back.

“So, what is it that you need?” He hummed into your ear before he placed his hands on your waist and sucked a mark over the tiny scar that rested on your pulse point.

You groaned and braced your hands on the wall that formed the entryway to the cockpit as you felt your knees buckle.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me and it’s yours.” He asked again as his fingers started to dip beneath the waistband of your leggings whilst he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

You knew exactly what it was, it was all you ever really needed. “You.” You gasped and you swore you felt him smile against your skin.

“You have me… always.”

You couldn’t hold out any longer, you turned around and crushed your lips against his with a groan and pushed him to the wall of the entrance to the cockpit. If he was taken aback by your abruptness, he didn’t show it as he matched your enthusiasm immediately, one hand coming to firmly grip your exposed waist whilst the other tangled itself in your damp hair, a desperate and eager noise leaving him as he got to feel your body press against his.

As you kissed him, your hands fisted his shirt and you pulled insistently but made no moves to actually step away to remove it, you were too addicted to the feeling of having him this way again… yet you needed to feel his skin against yours which is why you were thankful that he had enough willpower to separate himself from you and take it off himself.

The two of you breathed heavily and the air was thick with tension, but you were too focused on looking at what rested just past his collarbone. You hadn’t allowed yourself to check if he had held onto it for fear of what it could mean if it was gone, and your breath hitched. You touched the black leather cord and traced the small Jedi Order symbol on the end. “You- you kept it?”

“Of course, I did.” He softly uttered, if a little out of breath. He cradled your face in his palms. “What do I have to do to make you see what I see in you?”

Any answer died on your lips, and he passionately reconnected his mouth to yours, using your surprised gasp to deepen the kiss before he stepped away from the wall and started to direct you both down the narrow hallway to your bunk, muscle memory mapping the way as neither of you were content to separate to make the walk any easier.

A trail of clothes was left in your wake as you made your way to your bunk.

Hunter gently laid you down, his lips never parting yours before he patted your hip to get you to be on your front.

You still found yourself feeling reluctant. His beautiful brown eyes were laden with lust but there was also a deep and devoted sense of care behind them which was why you complied with his request. You trusted him.

Hunter went back to what he’d done earlier as he left delicate kisses to every scar that donned your back. What you endured was something no one should ever have to but what he could do now was make sure you knew that you didn’t need to hide them for the sake of other people- especially him- any longer. “You never have to worry about these. All that matters to me is that you’re here now, you got away, and you will never end up back there. More scars don’t have the power to change how I feel about you, nothing does. I love you for all that you are.” He planted a kiss to the base of your spine before he got you on your back to face him.

Hunter wiped away the salty tears that had escaped your eyes and nudged the side of your nose with his. “I love you. Always.”

“Always.” You repeated hoarsely as you were overwhelmed by the emotions that came crashing to the surface. You stroked back the smaller bits of hair that frequently slipped past his bandanna. 

Hunter kissed your cheek before leaving a trial of kisses along your jawline whilst his hand slowly made its way down your body to rest between your thighs.

Your legs parted for him on instinct and your hips bucked into his touch and a soft moan left your throat.

His voice took on a low purr as he moved his fingers. “Here’s how this is going to work: I am going to tell you everything that I love about you which you are then going to repeat and… if you don’t…” He stopped and took his hand away as he saw that familiar expression on your face, and he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged the edges of his mouth as that expression turned into an affronted pout. “I stop.”

Your eyes widened at the very clear implications of what he had in store for you.

“Or this doesn’t have to go any further and we stop now.” He offered sincerely.

No, you didn’t want that. It had been too long, and you needed him like your lungs needed oxygen. You could do this. You nodded your consent.

Hunter angled his head to press his lips against yours before he started to move his fingers again, hungrily swallowing your appreciative gasp. He kissed you passionately, not in any rush to stop right now. He parted from you and took a second to appreciate the throaty sighs that left your mouth at his actions, the way you bit your lip and the slight wrinkle on your brow as you grew closer to your release. He’d missed being able to see you like this, but he was relishing the opportunity to relearn and do all the things that made your body contort in pleasure. “You’re beautiful.” He exhaled in complete awe.

You were so caught up in the pleasure radiating throughout your body that you had already forgotten his plan and you were too put out by the feeling of your climax fading away to recall where your side of the bargain came into it. “Hey-” You cut yourself off as you saw the expectant expression on his face and then you remembered what you had to do to get what you craved but that doubt was still there, and you felt awkward doing it. However, the reassurance and trust that also rested on his face saw to it that you did as he said. “I- I’m beautiful.”

 Hunter bowed his head with a supportive smile before he carried on, the sound of your groan was like music to his ears. “Despite all that’s happened… all that we still have to do… you always find a way to make me smile.”

You were in a state of total euphoria and therefore failed to fully comprehend that he’d said something else. It was only when you felt him pull his hand away and the emptiness that followed that brought you back to the current situation. With a whine, you spoke again, “I- make- make you s- smile.” You ground out as you moved your hips in tandem with his touch as you chased your high.

He let you have your first climax, pausing to let you come down from it. Once your breathing evened out, he went again and kissed you before muttering against your lips, “You’re smart.”

“I’m- fuck.” You were too distracted by seeking the next release you were longing for to remember to respond, and you cried out in irritation as he stopped just before you reached it.  

“Almost.” He crooned into your ear.

As frustrated as you were, you got your bearings and whispered, “I’m smart.”

“Good girl.” He praised, a grin on his face as your breath stuttered at his words, before he continued, curling his fingers in the way he knew would send you over the edge and sure enough, your hips lifted as your release crashed over you and a gratified moan sounded from you. However, he didn’t stop, he worked you through it and said, “You’re caring.”

The process got easier and began to feel more natural. You slowly started to understand that clinging on to that part of your past had made it impossible to fully come back. Keeping yourself hidden and refusing to acknowledge what you’d experienced had made it difficult to fathom that he could still want you this way but each affirmation from his, as silly as you’d initially felt at doing what he said, was helping cement the idea that you may not be able to change or fix what you’d gone through, but it didn’t have to control you anymore. You had a partner and family that loved you and who you adored and would do anything for. You would get through this and now you were beginning to feel like you could do it. You felt yourself believing what he was telling you. A whimper left your throat, and you could already sense that you were hurtling towards the edge again, but you repeated it. “I’m c- caring.” You said through panted breaths as you coped with the overstimulation.

“You’re doing so well.” He encouraged as he kept to his word and continued to touch you. “You’re strong.” He knew he was repeating himself, but they weren’t words he minded reiterating, and he needed you to know and believe it too.

“I’m strong.” You said breathlessly as your hands curled into the blanket beneath you as that feeling overcame you again.

He saw you through your next peak and took his hand away to give you a rest from the stimulation and simply stared at you and the blissed out look on your face. He had it committed to memory, but it never ceased to take his breath away every time.

You gathered yourself enough to smile at him. “Thank you.” You whispered as you lightly followed the shape of his tattoo. You clasped the back of his neck and attempted to pull him towards you, but he worked his way out of your grip and instead kissed the hollow of your throat before kissing his way down the rest of your body. Your head fell back as you realised his intent, but you had thought it would be time for him to take what it was he needed.

He could help the groan that left him as he finally put his mouth on you. He could get drunk off the taste of you, and it had been too fucking long since he’d had the chance to do so, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

You couldn’t help the way your hands tangled in his hair and tugged him closer to you, his appreciative growl sent shivers down your spine, but you were so sensitive, and you didn’t think you could manage another one. “Hunter, I can’t. Just-”

“One more. I know you can.” He encouraged desperately as he planted a kiss to your inner thigh, sucking a bruise into the skin, before he went back to where his attention was demanded. He needed you to fall apart on his tongue, he was addicted to it, every drop of you, every whimper that sounded from you was like his own personal drug and he would never tire of it. “You’ve been such a good girl… done everything I’ve asked for… just give me one more, sweetheart.”

That did it. Your back arched and you finished with a ruined and exhausted moan. You were completely spent but it felt so good. You barely registered him to come rest beside you, his lips pressed against your temple.

“I know that wasn’t easy, but I’m so proud of you.” Hunter murmured into your hairline as he stroked up and down your side.

You regained enough feeling in your limbs to turn on your side “What about you?” You queried, still struggling to catch your breath. You knew you would be sensitive but your overwhelming longing for him swiftly outweighed any concerns.

Hunter slowly shook his head as he brushed his lips against yours, taking them away when you went to deepen the kiss. “This was always about you.”

With each passing moment, you were gaining more clarity over your faculties, and you knew what you had to do. A seductive smile pulled at the corners of your mouth and your hand snaked down between you both.

“What-” Hunter inhaled sharply as he felt your hand wrap around him, and his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to thrust his hips into your touch. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

“You said this was about me and what I need, right?” You hummed as you rested your forehead against his whilst your hand kept moving. You kept your touch teasing but just enough to drive him crazy.

“R-right.” Hunter said through a strained breath as he felt his restraint leaving him with every second you continued to touch him.

“And what I need is to feel you…” You brought your lips close to his, barely any space between you now. “Inside me.” You kissed him, tugging his lip between your teeth whilst your free hand entangled itself in his hair, the actions eliciting the depraved groan you had been looking for, and before you knew it, you were back on your back again with Hunter kissing you with a newfound fervour which you matched in kind. You wrapped your legs around him and drew him closer to you, smiling against his lips at the surprised huff that escaped him.  

Hunter kept kissing you as he started to guide himself into you. He knew you would still feel tender and was careful as he slowly moved into you, both of your breaths catching at the feeling. His head fell to rest in the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there before he soothed the sting of it with his tongue as he started to move, heavy grunts and pants leaving his lips as he got absorbed in feeling you this way after all this time.

Your nails dug into his back, and you could feel the muscles flex beneath your fingers and a sensual sigh left your lungs as you finally felt all of him.

One thought crossed your mind amidst the fog of pleasure that was spreading over your body. You’d let go of your fear now and you wanted to look for that connection again. Before, it had marked a level of certainty of your place here and overall mindset and if you couldn’t find it after all that had happened, there was a time where you would’ve been sure that it would mean there was no true way back for you. But now you understood that wasn’t and didn’t have to be the case. If it wasn’t there, you could work to get it back.

You used the Force around you to find his unique signature again and you could’ve wept with joy as you sensed it once more and it welcomed you with open arms. It had been waiting for you. You bridged the gap between you and allowed that feeling to flow through you. I love you.

Hunter paused his movements, and he stared down at you, a shocked but delighted cry left his mouth as he saw the broad and affirming smile on your face that told him he hadn’t imagined it. He’d wanted to have that back for so long and his heart soared as he realised what this meant for you. You weren’t holding back anymore; you were officially home.

You stroked a thumb along his cheekbone before clenched around him in an attempt to get him to keep going, a smug hum of laughter leaving you at the almost pained expression on his face as he got himself back under control before he started again.

“Do it again. Please.” Hunter requested frantically as he felt himself approaching his own release.

You smiled affectionately at him and continued to kiss him as you saw him through to his climax. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He finished with a strangled groan, and he collapsed on top of you. He stayed there for a few moments before he gently pulled out of you, stroking your hair as he saw you slightly wince at the action. “I’m sorry if it was too much.”

You shook your head. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” You reassured him as he laid down beside you and held you close to him. We should clean up.

Hunter made a sound of acknowledgement as he pressed his mouth to the crown of your head. “What made you do that again?”

“I let go.” You said simply before planting a chaste kiss to his lips before taking his hands in yours and guiding him to the refresher. “Come on.”

--

“What are you thinking?” Hunter asked as he watched you pick up the wrapped lightsaber from the shelf Wrecker had put it on. You hadn’t touched it since taking it from the bounty hunter.

“I can’t hold on to or fear the past anymore. We can only look to the future now and that future has us getting Omega back. And…” You uncovered the seemingly harmless looking weapon. “I think this will make achieving that easier.” You reached for it, hesitating for just a moment before you picked it up and it was an instant reaction. You took half a step back as the sensation of feeling that connection you hadn’t encountered for years threatened to overwhelm you. Flashes of your past as a youngling and echoes of previous battles and instructions from your master sounded in your head but it wasn’t scary this time, you were merely remembering the periods where this weapon had been your life.

Hunter placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You alright?”

You took one long breath. “Yeah. It’ll just take come getting used to, but it’s going to be worth it. I’m not hiding what I am these days, may as well have the whole image.” You said light-heartedly.

Hunter cupped your jaw and kissed you gently, both of you sighing contentedly into the sensation before Wrecker’s hesitant voice echoed through the comms.

“Um, Hunter… I hope I’m not interrupting eh anything now but um I was wondering if I could come back? I’ve started to wander in circles and I’m getting some suspicious looks.”

The two of you chuckled.

“Poor guy.” You said with a humorous shake of your head.

“Yeah, Wrecker, head on back and we can get outta here.” Hunter replied through his comm.

“Wrecker, how’d you fancy having an excuse to shoot at me?” You said into your comm, and the intrigued but excited cheer told you your answer.

“Shoot you?” Hunter repeated, titling his head at you inquisitively.

You grinned as you clipped your lightsaber to your waist. “Yeah, how else did you think I was going to train?”

--

“That’s 15 to 11!” Wrecker whooped as you came to after his stun blast hit your back.

Fuck you. You jabbed playfully as you accepted Hunter’s outstretched hand. He tugged you to your feet.

“You’re lasting longer.” Hunter commented supportively and- knowing you would want to go immediately again- walked away to take up his position.

You wiped the dirt from your clothing and removed your mask to take some deep breaths and find your centre again. Taking on jobs, following leads, mediating and lightsaber training… that was how you balanced your time; you were feeling more like the person you had been before your world had been torn apart. You’d never be able to be her again, but you could own who you are now and allow yourself to feel the emotions you’d been struggling against without suffocating in them anymore.

“But still not long enough!” Wrecker goaded. “I’ll always be in the lead!”

You didn’t take the bait. Instead, you took off your armour, gloves, and long-sleeved top.

“Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair.” Wrecker protested.

Hunter turned inquisitively and his breath hitched. A soft sheen of sweat graced your skin and your body rippled with strength and untapped potential… and fuck did it make his heart skip a beat and his blood run hot. He was grateful his helmet was still on because the way his eyes widened would’ve given you too much material to work with right now, but he wasn’t able to hide the way his hand slightly fumbled as he unholstered his blaster. He wasn’t embarrassed by finding you attractive in this way, the frequent teasing he’d often received for it just made it harder to focus on the task at hand.

“The training stays the same and my strategy is my own. It’s not supposed to have an effect on you anyway.” You retorted with a smug grin as Hunter’s reaction went exactly as you’d anticipated.

“You better not mess this up for us, Hunter.” Wrecker warned as he shoved his brother’s shoulder to snap him out his reverie.

You laughed to yourself as you watched them. You picked up your lightsaber and ignited it, the blue blade thrumming at your side, and you felt that rush of connection and security. Having a blaster by your side was nothing compared to this.

It was a powerful sight that Hunter never got used to and quite frankly, part of him was relieved he’d never come across you as an official Jedi General during the war because if his reaction to seeing you train and work towards unlocking whatever you had been tampering down for so many years was anything to by, he would’ve gotten himself shot a long time ago- half your earlier victories came from redirecting his own stun blasts to him.

You got into your stance and faced the two clones as they readied their blasters. “Alright, let’s go again.”

<Previous Oneshot

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @nightmonkeysstuff, @starwarsnerd111, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

[aconflagrationofmyown]

|| Memphis to Fort Hood

Timeline alterations: Spring of 1958

Theme: THAT ASKED FOR BABY ANNOUNCEMENT, sorta

So, so many thanks to all my darlings who I throw my ideas at and they in turn bolster my resolve and refine my daydreams.

Warnings: good ole fashioned 50’s misogyny, Elvis being rather poorly represented? -for the reasons of this being written as critique?…nothing explicit but themes of free use, subspace, paranoia and eating disorders (which ends up being morning sickness so no really big deal there, just wanted to be careful.

A note on the style of this particular interlude: One of my obsessions with this universe has been using multiple points of view and narrative styles, ultimately adding to my own expansive delusion that this AU really was the verified version of his life. 🤓 And see, if it had been we would have magazines and newspapers, speciations and interviews galore, all of which I’ve enjoyed fabricating in the past and intend to continue. Now I’ve cooked up something else, a faux cultural study on what would have been the massively studied and criticized impact of a couple this peculiar and idolized -Mrs. Presley and Other Martyrs:

Strangely, if one looks for the first cracks in a marriage that outlasted five decades, nine children, assasination attempts, adultery, rock n’ roll and the most publicized divorce of its time, one might find that the first fissure had begun to open by the Presley’s third week anniversary. Outlasted, that’s the key. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t things to outlast. The old curse of stepping outside Graceland and finding trouble found them early on, as did their tenacity to simply ignore and surmount the witch’s brew of criticism, ego and exhaustion.

It took 38 hours by train to reach Fort Hood from Memphis Tennessee in the year 1958. Time enough for legends to be made. Dynamics to be established. A couple dozen demons to resurface.

And impressions to be formed. Lasting impressions of herself by the scrutinizing public that Elaine Presley reportedly never forgave Elvis for -a remarkable instance of a grudge in a woman so notoriously absolvent.

At the start of the journey she boarded the train at Memphis a sheltered girl tucked under the arm of the most famous man on earth, her own face captured without obstruction for the first time by the press, wedding band flashing and virginal blush staining her features at the attention and the queries hurled at her. The most envied woman in the country hadn’t known she was wanted a month before and by the time she stepped off in Texas, Mrs Presley was the doe eyed subject and demure recipient of a hundred varied opinions, editorials, fan tokens and bouquets.

What her rushed wedding may have slighted Elaine Presley of in terms of a bridal fuss, this dutiful journey made up for in sheer abundance of notoriety. What her sequestered honeymoon had sheltered her from in terms of being tabloid fodder was more than made up for on the trip as Elaine Presley got paraded on the train balcony at each stop along the route by her beaming groom:

A sauve cad in a uniform who beamed at the crowd with a cocky leer that suggested much in regards to his reserved bride and was in stark contrast to the sober and tear streaked boy he’d been when he came up this way to say goodbye to his mama weeks before. This little couple and their little rebellion of a marriage was manic in appearance and in gaiety, and even the most charitable of well-wishers found the occasion they were celebrating a bit forced, a bit dire, a bit off kilter for something as sanctified and sober as matrimony.

This was compounded by the new groom’s attitude which seemed as eager to display the varied trousseau he decked this almost catatonically pliant girl in -with a change nearly on the hour- as he was to introduce his new wife to his nation’s worth of fans that crowded the rails as they hustled south.

As Hedda Hopper unapologetically noted in her column that week “…it makes a person wonder if this sensational canary of an entertainer is too proud of having conquered a sensible girl child into being his wife to realize he just married himself off the market. America’s daydream is now a taken man and no one in the nation seems ready for that, least of all him.”

Married, to Elvis Presley, was perhaps more of a reality than Miss Hopper and her column gave him credit for, although the old spinster might’ve been aghast if she knew what marital duties the young star prioritized over others. The folks who caught sight of the flushed couple at each stop might’ve had a suspicion. Certainly Elvis’ ever present entourage of childhood friends and relations couldnt hope to be left in the dark.

Even if the close quarters on the route, the thin traincar doors and shared meals were not enlightening enough, Elvis Presley gloated too much in being a new husband to possibly retain any mystery. Love drunk and determined to stay so lest panic or grief overtake him, his friends recall his unreasonable amounts of excitement and generosity in detail regarding his “lil wife.”

-And his skills as a lover, of course.

Nothing had changed for Elvis from his time on the road with these naughty friends of his except that now all his famous drive and obsession was channeled towards one rather overwhelmed teenage girl. One who had, in typical 1950’s fashion, promised to obey his every whim. Turns out, trapped in a train car for over a day with an insomniatic sex addict uncovers an astounding amount of whims that their more placid honeymoon at Graceland had kept at a low simmer.

Whether tamed by the supposed influence of his mother’s ghostly presence at Graceland or whether in a fit of gentlemanly restraint for an untried bride, Elvis Presley had, by all accounts, played the gentleman while at home in those first weeks of marriage. While happy and smug -so much so that the story went that when the colonel appeared at Graceland to assure himself that the secret wedding hadn’t happened, one look at Elvis and the girl on his lap assured him it had both occurred and been consummated- he had nevertheless been considerate, gentle and almost tutoring in aiding Elaine to adjust to her new life.

Trapped in the claustrophobic buzz of the train car speeding south to a life of regimented discipline and obedience in the army, the antsy rebel in him found his boredom and dread peaked beyond endurance and distracted himself with the new and ever captivating charms of his new wife.

Elvis Presley with a goal could be a dedicated and diligent man but without one he was a chaotic force of nature that could catch all those around him in a whirlpool of fun or an avalanche of insanity. Pursuing Elaine Presley had brought out the best in him and so intently did he peruse her with every traditional method of wooing a typical southern girl, that she had quite forgotten the more frightening aspects of his temperament that she and her father had been witness to before. She could be forgiven for thinking he had matured past such outbursts and compulsions he had been thrall to in his early fame. Subdued by grief and spurred by ambition to have her, he had been impressively restrained upon his return to Memphis and driven by a rededication of his life to the old values of his mama’s ambitions for him, he had managed to continue it into the first days of marriage.

The upcoming reality of life within the rigorous confines of Fort Hood was too strong for such flimsy good intentions. As was the oppressive reality of his mother’s permanent absence in his life. His love, which had always been a somewhat smothering thing that required as much as it gave, was needy yet inexpressive in those early days and according to his daughter Ella, who divulged some of her mother’s confidences in her own book, Elaine was yet to learn how terrified her young husband was of a future that most would have envied.

Scared of being alone, yet suspicious that his presence was merely being tolerated, young husband Elvis Presley had every hope he could train a young girl by conjugal powers alone to be loyal to him where others failed. In a fit of hubris and optimism, he chose for this amorous experiment the one woman in town who admitted to not being in love with him. This fear and frustration expressed itself in an appalling physical demand on her bodily attentions. One that their fellow train car occupants could not ignore yet found themselves incapable of preventing, bound by the antiquated respect of a husband's rights.

“I swear he’d not leave her alone for a full hour,” Red West recalled in his book, reflecting on the times he spent in the Presley’s entourage, “and he’d be back there with her for hours at a time, then pop out and then right back again. If he couldn't sleep then he didn’t see why she should.”

Billy Smith, his cousin and a man adamant about staying on Mrs. Presley’s good side over the years, would only admit discreetly, “He was utterly in love with her, had been for years and couldn’t quite pace himself once he got the green light, so to speak. He adored her and was in a bit of a state of shock that she was even better than he’d hoped, she was like the first thing to exceed his high expectations. She was very genuinely kind to him and he ate it up. On the train ride he was bored and it was like taking a bored kid to their favorite sweet shop. And Elvis Presley had a big ole bank account to cash in.”

Big enough, apparently, that by lunch of that day the ever proper young Mrs Presley, in her perfectly starched new outfits and watery lined eyes, was having trouble sitting still at table, much to the comment of guests and friends. After excusing herself early she went back to their suite. Elvis was seen following within minutes. Thirty minutes later the train stopped and Elaine Presley, in a fresh outfit and an uncharacteristic wobble to her stride was paraded by her husband on the balcony to the roar of envious onlookers.

The train moved on, she excused herself again, as did he moments later.

“We could hear them, it became like road noise.” Red West, long used to Elvis’ various rendezvous while on the road in the past took this marital overindulgence in stride, “Initially it was kinda a laugh and a grin about it with all the folks in the dining car, but then we could hear her tiring out, and he’d keep at it and it got a bit annoying, all her pleading and him going on about bein’ able to do anything he pleased with her. He’d come out and brag to us when we told him they were being loud.”

“He was very proud of how sensitive she was,” Joe Esposito does not bother to sound impressed himself when relating this confidence, “he’d tell us how she was a squirter and she got all sensitive real fast before he was even close to done and he’d just have to hold her and make her let him finish, sometimes make her keep going when she swore she couldn’t. He said he was training her to respond the way he wanted. It didn’t occur to him maybe she was made different than the ones he’d been with before, he just thought he was a damn good husband. Figure she just wanted a nap and maybe some Vaseline. Nobody dared to tell him to give her a break.”

Ultimately Vernon Presley ventured to do just that at breakfast the next morning, after his daughter in law had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast that day from a ubiquitous headache that was likely not an ache in the head at all.

“He was so timid about it as Elvis was in a mood, worn out and hadn’t slept, stabbin’ his eggs like they’d done him wrong.” Lamar Fike remembers the incident, “Vernon just spoke up real gentle like and says ‘son, why don’t you go easy on the little lady, she’s real fresh and delicate,�� Elvis just glared at him so he tried jokin by sayin’ something like ‘you got the rest of your lives for this, don’t gotta cram it all in today.’ Elvis didn’t even try to act dumb, he just got mad and stood up from the table and said ‘daddy, you mind your own business, reckon I don’t need lessons for how to take care of a wife, not from you leastwise.’ And that was a low blow, you could see it on Vernon’s face and like I said, Elvis stood up, with his napkin still tucked in his shirt neck, and went back there to her again like he was makin’ love to spite his old man. Ya just don’t tell Elvis what to do with what’s his.”

Charlie Hodge wasn’t there and in an admirable display of keeping in his lane only commented that, “Elvis told me they danced a lotta the way, had the old records on, trying to keep the cramp away. He’d get antsy on trips.”

Marty Lacker had the decency to at least be sheepish and a little apologetic about the times when relating his version of events, “Just a different time back then, ya know? Didn’t occur to us to step in. We’d say a thing or two but ultimately that’s between a husband and wife to sort out and back then wives just didn’t fuss. It all worked out, they sorted it. Elaine never breathed a word of anything and we wouldn’t think of saying anything to her. Not even after the little emergency, you just don’t talk about that stuff. It’s not fitting. Even Elvis knew that, he didn’t appreciate the advice or adminitions from his daddy. Braggin’ between boys us one thing but talkin’ about what goes on between a man and his wife beyond that it’s, it’s just, it’s not fittin. It’s just not a thing to be discussed, you know? Different times, man.”

The little emergency in question was a case of Elvis bursting out of the train car an hour or so after lunch on the second day in search of his paternal grandmother, old Dodger as the family called her, full of consternation that his young bride was unresponsive.

“I really think he rode her silly, that’s all there was to it.” Joe shrugs at this bold diagnosis, “He’d brag about how out of it she’d get when he would start again after she thought he was done. Said she’d space right out and start shakin’ and shivering and get plain stupid. I think he liked that, makin’ a smart girl feel dumb. He’d dress her up and redo her makeup and take her out like that in front of fans, and they all got the impression she was a little bozo. Then I guess he just kept at it one time too long.”

Elvis told Dodger that his wife was not fully concious, although his heightened concern was less regarding her insensibility than the fact that neither a light smack to the cheek nor a resumption of activities on his part could rouse Elaine like it had on previous occasions. Vernon dunked her head in a bowl of ice water with no success, Billy tried to give her aspirins but she wasn’t awake to swallow them down.

Dodger prescribed a drink of water for the young girl, a cold compress to the nether regions and a nap -sans husband. Disgruntled but terrified of losing yet another woman in his life, and with his own cheek stinging from his grandmother's wrath, Elvis Presley secluded himself to playing cards with the boys in the smoking lounge for the remaining three hours of the train ride while his grandmother watched over his bride and her precariously suggestible headspace.

“ ‘I done told her again and again to hold it if she gets so excitable after she comes that she can’t stand to take me longer. But she’s a hair trigger, couple stokes and she’s off, keeps comin’ all the same then acts like I’m skinnin’ her when I keep goin. I gotta finish man, what else am I supposed to do?” Red recalls Elvis bemoaning his bride’s hyper responsiveness like a martyr recounting his sentence -while wearing his signature sulky expression that did nothing to hide the smug pride beneath.

By the time Elaine Presley wobbled off the train onto the platform at Killeen Texas and stiff smilingly took her seat beside Elvis in a taxi to their little crackerbox house on base, the world at large had a firm opinion that the new Mrs Presley was a pretty little thing with dark features and a rosebud mouth, a nice figure and sweet charm but possessing a vacant sorta look to her. It suggested a gullibility so utterly untrue to her real nature that three decades worth of wit and shrewdness could hardly undue their initial impression of her.

Elaine Presley would ultimately have her revenge for such a first impression but it would cost her much in the process and Elvis Presley even more.

The buzz of press did not decline upon her arrival. With Private Presley busy soldiering all day, it fell to his young wife to sort the intricate social circle of his entourage and fellow soldiers, to manage the fanmail and contracts as well as set up house as best she could in such impermanent lodgings. All these precarious duties were stalked and documented beyond all sense, photographs of her and her choice of groceries dutifully printed for readers across the country to guess at what she planned to feed their idol for dinner. If the sharp glint in her eyes, captured on occasion when the intrusion became absurd, hinted at something beyond the vacant and ravished doll of the train ride, no one was eager to investigate. A sharp set to the mouth or a dangerous glitter in the eye got one called a bitch and it was better to be vacuous as a woman than to be venomous. So Elaine was caught smiling with her vegetables and spending her afternoons baking beneath a Texas sun while chatting with snide fellow housewives.

It was the first bootcamp for a lifelong grueling ordeal that Elaine Presley submitted to with grace and tenacity.

If her wit and her marital irregularities were glossed over by the papers in their eagerness to find the noble idyll amongst the immoral muck of rock and roll, what did not go unnoticed was the increasingly wane aspect of what should have been a rosy and glowing young wife. Shortly after arriving in Texas, Elaine’s already strained nerves seemed to have frazzled beyond small fits of fainting and what was once a private display of weariness kept between her and the implacable Dodger. Soon it became bouts of vomiting and exhaustion beyond any reasonable excuse.

The public noticed her figure grow slight and frail, as did Elvis. No longer was she slight but sickly instead, and a milky complexion was now waxy and unbecoming in contrast to her dark hair. The public were concerned for her, not for her health so much as for the future of the readership should her picturesque ordeals unravel further.

Battling his own preoccupation and exhaustion in the hard crucible of army bootcamp, Elvis’ one solace was the charming little haven he had created for himself with a wife and domesticity shipped in like so many plates and doilies. When this fairytale grew pale and bony and even the most cheerful of liars couldn’t convince him his “Tinkerbell” was fine, Elvis Presley grew increasingly paranoid of something fatal having cursed the women in his life. Frustrated at Elaine for allowing herself to grow so weak, his friends recall his behavior towards her vasciaiting from aching tenderness to angry remonstrances at her to eat and to rest and take care of herself. He even paced his own indulgences and begged her not to bring him the usual treats she’d sneak into barracks during the heat of afternoon. He pampered and berated, prayed and cursed.

None of these precautions were sufficient to build her up and alarmed beyond any reassurance, Elvis Presley packed his young bride into a car in the early summer of their first marriage and, having a five hour furlough from the army, drove her himself into the nearby hospital. The statement tossed to the press waiting outside was mild sinus congestion.

Twenty minutes later these two world wide famous young adults stumbled out in a daze of knowledge that they were about to be parents for the first time.

A severe case of twins -and the rigorous discipline of making them- having caused all the raucous.

No longer scared of abandonment, imminent loss or rebellion on his wife’s part, Elvis Presley softened considerably in the next months, the looming likelihood of a separation with his deployment softening him even further. It was the first case of children saving -and complicating- one of the most volatile and devoted couples of the 20th century.

By the first few weeks of the second trimester, Elaine Presley was both filled out enough and sufficiently cheery to regain the accolades lost to her by the press during her first. Finding few friends to be had amongst jealous soldiers' girlfriends and snooty Sargeant’s wives, as well as having been abandoned by most childhood companions after becoming mistress of Graceland, Elaine, never to be out maneuvered by bad luck, turned those publicized grocery store runs into social occasions, her growing belly eliciting advice and solicitations from wise old Texan grandma’s and rancher’s wives.

Accompanied by the stoically indomitable Dodger, Elaine could be found at geriatric swim classes at the local pool in a bid to stay cool during the heat of summer, at smoky poker games at Billy Bob’s honky tonk where she was the lone abstainer from the free flowing bourbon and became winner of a mechanical bull riding competition against a Navy Pilot.

It was a win for the infantry that night and even Elvis drank a cold one in celebration of her winnings that she spent on quenching the Hell on Wheels squadron at the adjacent saloon. Those Sargeant’s wives got somehow even more acrid after that.

Whether there was a correlation between this heated ride-off and said Navy Pilot’s face ending up black and blue the next day from some jealous young husband’s fist, was anyone's conjecture. Either way, Elvis Presley was likely too busy for such petty displays of insecurity, he was hiding in the lavatory most times to get away from his recently energized and insatiable young wife whose visits to Fort Hood soon became a byword and euphemism for something else besides visitation.

Altogether the Presley’s in Texas was an eclectic and occasionally damaging PR debut, but not without its merits.

The nation decided the new Mrs. Presley may have been a little short in the smarts department but she made pregnancy look fun again and that was rather charming and not a little rebellious, as was unapologetically marrying Elvis Presley right from under their noses. And Elvis? Well, it would be two long years before the world got any candid, civilian, unrepentant opinion out of Private Presley.

Hope you enjoyed! 💋

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[divinekangaroo]

In this moment, in this room, I love you - Did he really mean it?

I'm always slightly wary of this angle of query because it often feels like looking for a ship-war interpretation that makes certain relationships "right" when, well, relationships are not on a binary. XD

But, I also have no idea what people mean even IRL when they say 'do you love someone', because every time it's used it seems to me to mean 'do you sacrifice more of yourself for the other person's wellbeing than would be good for your own wellbeing and think this is the right and upstanding thing to do' and that's pretty destructive, to me. Even when people say it in relation to parents and children, or children and parents. I am wary as hell of the term love because it's a distorted word that appears to serve as a bucket for a whole gamut of cultural constructs regarding worth, gender and roleplay.

So, well, did Tommy mean what, exactly?

My interpretation of this monologue was that Lizzie meant enough to Tommy that he articulated that whole speech in an effort to give her recognition, to give her something that he thought would have meaning to her. So yeah, use of the word love aside, he was telling her she has deep meaning to him, or he wouldn't have endeavoured to say it. He wouldn't have arranged the hotel to try to connect with her.

His disclaimer's always been fascinating because that's where the sorrow is, some acknowledgment that either 1) he knows his feeling for her will never be enough to alter his actions or intensions in the way he thinks Lizzie wants/needs from him (meaning: she wants/needs him to change, to be someone different for her, and he can't) and 2) these sorts of deep emotions, he can only feel in a transitory, very broken way these days.

In S6, Ada uses the same "in this moment, in this room" phrasing when she describes herself to Mosley and Diana as holding the power, a momentary, fleeting and unstable thing in a world of complex dynamics. I do ponder significantly the use of power and love both bracketed by in this moment/room (but that's another analogy for another post), and in this context do think the 'in this moment in this room' phrasing as a minimum recalls that Tommy's offering to Lizzie has the same inherent instability as power.

And, terribly, because of that fleetingness, the temporary nature, the instability and inconstancy of his feeling, Tommy's monologue to Lizzie also creates some resonance in me of the scene where Tommy tells Charlie 'that's how horses are' when he describes how Ruby's horse will forget her. I cannot help but feel Tommy meant himself: yes, he was shattered by Ruby's death....but he'll forget. He can't feel the way he (thinks he) should feel. What is another cup of grief in an ocean of his grief, after all? It's not like he doesn't feel it, but...does it change anything? He went past threshold /capacity so many years ago that more of it's...well... *shrugs* And the whole scene with Lizzie feels the same. These people he loves need him to be someone else, and while he certainly gives of himself in so many ways, it's not ways that they want.

(I also think frequently on Lizzie's "What good will you become" - she's *never* actually asked Tommy to be a good man, or to change the gang life, only to separate/protect himself and his loved ones from it; she has a very close, personal view of morality, and while she doesn't want to hurt others, she also never really seems concerned about bigger impacts, social impacts, anything beyond the tight selfish/selfhood space. Lizzie certaintly never called on Tommy to become something so grand and great and making huge political moves for "the greater good." I can't picture her understanding his supposed & expressed motivation of the greater good/lasting legacy as *worth* what he's putting himself and those close to him through)

Did he mean it? Yes. He feels and hurts and then he doesn't change what he does.

[insanityclause]

Tom Hiddleston Says Revisiting Loki Was ‘An Honor,’ Thanks Co-Stars for ‘Chemistry and Inspiration’

Ahead of accepting Variety’s Virtuoso Award at the Miami Film Festival, Hiddleston reflects on previous roles and impactful creative collaboration.

By Jenelle Riley

Tom Hiddleston knows “Miami.” That is, all the words to the Will Smith song titled after the famous city — a video of him reciting the lyrics once broke the Internet (not an unusual occurrence for the actor.) That was in 2012 when he was doing press for “The Avengers,” the movie that would change his life and career. It was also the same tour that last brought him to the city — but that was a whirlwind two days of press. “I do recall promoting ‘Avengers’ in Spanish and the city had a great, unique energy,” he says. “I’m really excited to be back as an explorer.”

The British actor will be returning on April 9 to the Miami Film Festival to accept Variety’s Virtuoso Award for his career achievements and will participate in a Q&A at the Adrienne Arsht Center – Knight Concert Hall. Tickets are available here.

And while Miami is known for its food and culture, the actor has one thing on his mind. “What will the weather be like?” he queries of the town’s famously balmy temperatures. “Because I’m coming from the wettest February on record in London’s history.”

Hiddleston admits it’s somewhat ironic to be receiving the Virtuoso Award there, because “when somebody says ‘virtuoso,’ I think of a dazzling soloist in an orchestra, and I feel about as far from that image as it’s possible to imagine.”

He continues: “I am the opposite of a soloist, actually. I always feel like I’m at my strongest in a team. What we do is a collective creative act and the joy of it is in the shared imagination.”

This might explain why his resume is filled with standout ensemble pieces in every genre. Hiddleston’s worked on stage — he earned a Tony nomination for his 2019 Broadway debut in “Betrayal” — the SAG Award-nominated ensemble of “Midnight in Paris,” up through his most current turn as the God of Mischief in Season 2 of the Disney+ series “Loki.”

The second season’s finale, “Glorious Purpose,” remains the highest-rated episode ever in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and brought a conclusion to an epic character arc that has spanned 14 years of Hiddleston’s life. The actor, who also served as producer on both seasons, says it would have been impossible without his “deep bench” of castmates, which includes Owen Wilson, Sophia Di Martino and Season 2 addition Ke Huy Quan, Oscar-winner for “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”

“I don’t know who said it, but there’s the phrase: ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together,’” he notes. “And it’s never been truer than for this show.”

Community and collaboration are perhaps his favorite aspects of the work. “I truly find the most interesting work I have discovered happens between people. You show up and ready and prepared, but you take that preparation onto the dance floor and see what there is between you. If I’ve done anything of value, it’s because of that chemistry and inspiration I receive from another actor.”

Hiddleston says that team spirit extends to his next project, “The Life of Chuck,” a big-screen adaptation of the Stephen King novella that also stars Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill and Chewitel Ejiofor. “I’m a lifelong tennis fan and I feel like being on set is like playing tennis,” Hiddleston notes. “It’s all about who you’re playing opposite and the energy back and forth between you. And I have some great partners on ‘The Life of Chuck.'”

As for continuing Loki’s story in a third season, it’s a question Hiddleston is asked pretty much every day — several times. “I truthfully don’t know,” he says. “I am so proud of where we landed in Season 2. To go from this lost, broken soul in Asgaard, and be given a second chance and learn so much about life that he actually gives himself to protect other people, has been such an honor.” For tickets to the conversation and Variety Virtuoso Award Presentation to Tom Hiddleston, visit here.

[writing-in-lesbian]

A Heiress in love. Pt. 6

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female Reader Tags: angst, fluff, Translations: Hainofi = princess // Strik sis [Strisis] = little sister // Ai hod yu in = I love you // Ste yuj = Stay strong // Yu laik ai kru = You are my people // Oso laik wonkru = We are one clan // Ai hod you in seintaim = I love you too // Em pleni = enough // Ai laik Heda = I’m the commander // Jomp em op en you jump ai op // Attack her and you attack me. Chapter synopsis: As the enemies get closer, our new appointed commander embarks on a much personal journey.

A/N: This story keeps sending me into new research topics! I hope I’m doing them justice. Also since there aren’t a lot of trigedeslang transistors, everything in italics and underlined would be trigedeslang. Again, I’m partying ways from some canon events in the 100 in order for this to work. Work is not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 6 - The prince, the princess and death.

Tuesday 03:30 a.m.

That’s what you think the time it’s based on the stars illuminating the sky. You observe Wanda sleeping peacefully close to the table where you left her, having you decided to meditate a little.

Your soul is restless, for some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the impending war and the consequences it might have, you make a mental note to send Henry a message tomorrow night, the device for communications being at your chambers, just to ask him how’s everything on their side.

The night is silent.

It should feel peaceful but it’s thick with anticipations of something you quite don’t understand. A lot has happened in a few days, and the constant changing of things does nothing to calm your mind. You think of your family, especially your mother, How many battles and wars has she seen already in her life? She deserves a quiet life, For years she was just surviving, making amends with death but then your mom quite literally fell from the sky and well, they both deserve a quiet life already. Haven’t they suffered enough?

Your mind travels to the redhead close to you and how you went from wishing to know her to being betrothed. Funny how sometimes the universe chooses to give us what we wanted. You notice her slim figure and, think how much harder all of this is being for her, and, not for the first time, you wish you could do more, be more, for those you love and care about.

Wondering as well about your other guests, they will probably leave tomorrow sometime during the day, hoping Pietro or Natasha could stay a little bit more, for Wanda’s sake. Taking your eyes off Wanda you look at the sky and the moon, shining bright above you, making her best effort to bring solace to your query mind.

Raven told you once that your mind thought 800 thoughts per millisecond, never shutting up and it would be a good thing for Lexa to start training you on how to effectively lessen them. You should have paid more attention to your lessons, maybe if your mother had been the one to show you instead of Octavia, you would have studied more, ‘cause you definitely want that state of mind right now.

In a few hours, your party will leave for Tondc, despite the political air it has, that’s where you’ll go to get your tattoo done, right at Becca’s bunker. You’re still amazed at how a lot of things changed when it comes to the Commander rituals, thanks to your mother and her rules.

Closing your eyes again, you try to concentrate, inhaling and exhaling slowly, one, two, three times, but before you can reach the fourth inhalation you hear Wanda whining. Your instinct and need to protect her takes over you and you go to her side immediately. Later when you are questioned, you will recall seeing the red wisps coming from her hands but claim you didn’t notice until it was too late.

You touch her shoulder trying to wake her up and receive a blast of red magic, that, upon impact does feel a little weird, but is enough to send you flying and crashing against one of the bigger rocks on the wall. You have to thank Raven for teaching you to cover your head when being sent flying and crashing from explosions. That summer you spent with her and she used you as a dummy test (to the displeasure of your mothers), is proving to be effective now.

Still, the hard impact is enough to leave you unconscious. … … … … … … … … …

You awake (or regain consciousness) to the sound of screaming. Trying as quick as you can, you force your body to get up, opening your eyes but the air is strong, making it harder for you to see, so you instantly close them again.

Putting your hand covering your eyes you walk towards what you think is the table, squinting your way out.

“Wanda?” You scream but your voice can’t be heard.

The noises are too loud.

You somehow see the smoke rising from the way the Tower is. Feeling your stomach drop, you turn and try to look for Wanda but all you see is fire where the table used to be, you still make your way back to it.

“Wanda, where are you?” But the clouds are covering the moon and there’s a lot of fog, making it impossible to see beyond a certain range, you’re not sure if it’s from the smoke or the chill air, but is starting to get into your lungs. Covering your mouth you reach the table.

Nothing.

BOOM

The loud explosions close to you are enough to destroy the rock walls and send you to the floor looking for cover. Eyes closed, not making a move, you hide behind the hidden part of the table, covering your mouth, trying not to make a sound with your coughs. Inhaling, and exhaling, you calm your state but are still stiff as a rock, you’re not sure where the explosions are coming from or if someone is near.

“Wanda, where are you?” You try again, thinking as hard as you can this time, remembering how it seemed to work a few hours ago, hoping it gets to her again.

Silence.

Eery silence.

Not even the wind makes a noise.

Opening one eye you can’t see any fire or smoke. In fact, everything seems exactly as it was before the explosions, the moon and the stars shining bright above you.

Carefully, you start getting up from your crouching position, sword at the ready. What the hell is going on? Your (e/c) eyes scan the area, looking for a sign of Wanda, at this point, for someone, anybody to appear.

“Welcome… Strisis” you remember well that voice.

It lulled you to sleep many times, but it’s impossible for you to hear it again right now. Turning carefully, one foot at a time, forcing your body to move, refusing to opening your eyes. Counting one to three in your head, you slowly bring light to your vision.

Truth is, it’s not impossible as it seems.

He’s standing there in all his glory, just like you used to remember him. Clad in all black, his blue eyes contrasting his sandy blonde hair, but his hair is well stylish and not as sweaty as normal, due to all the training he’d done. He’s sporting a small smile, the same one he reserved just for you.

“Aden” a whisper you’re not sure it came from your lips.

Tentatively you take a step, he’s the same height you remember him, except this time, you are taller than him. Although you’re not as tall as your mother, you somehow reached Clarke’s height, still, Aden, as you see him now, is shorter than you.

“I have been waiting for you” yet he doesn’t move nor make any intent to come closer. You look at your surroundings, but nothing seems different than when you entered this place.

“How… what… is it really you?” You refuse to believe what’s in front of you. The reality of having him here could mean just one thing.

“I am” he still doesn’t move.

“I don’t understand… am I?”

“Your betrothed holds a lot of power”

You frown at the mention of Wanda. Where is she anyway?

“No need to worry Sistris, despite unconsciously trying, she cannot enter where we are”

“What?” The fog in your brain is going away slowly. You recall the night, meditating, Wanda whining…

And the red sparks.

“We’re in my mind?”

“Not quite Y/N, we are in something similar to the City of Lights. I’m guessing this was a result of her”

“Wanda?”

“Is that her name? I always wondered. Mother used to call her the Lady with magic hands, not the best phrase is you ask, no wonder mom almost choked on her water”

His laugh is remarkable and something you wished to hear more often when he was alive. Wait, your mothers knew Wanda had magic? Is that why they accepted Stark’s offer? But, if they know she has magic, and certainly all her clan know, why would ask for your union? You don’t hold anything compared to Wanda’s abilities, so what can you bring to the table?

“A lot more of what you think sistris"

Continuing to ignore him, for your own sake, a lot of things haven’t made a lot of sense so trying to search for it, under the circumstances will just bring you a massive headache.

“You said we’re in the City of Lights but is not my mind”

“I said, we are in something similar. This is still part of your mind. Lady Maximoff can’t enter this space, more than anyone, you should know and it’s not because of the chaos”

Despite your best efforts, you feel a headache coming. Is that possible? Feeling a headache while inside your head?

“Sunrise is coming sistris”

“Wait, Aden… don’t go” The fear of losing him again makes you act on instinct, recalling the sensation you felt all those years ago, closing the distance an embracing him.

He smells like pine and wood, combined with some citric notes, a little bit different from what you remember. Back in the day, you always mumbled he smelled like rain, Madi taunted him saying you meant it was wet dirt, but to you, it was something fresh.

“I’m here”

Despite the height difference now, you feel his strong arms circling you and comforting you in a way only older brothers can.

You don’t want to let him go and refuse to close your eyes in case he disappears. What if he’s a fragment of your imagination?

“I’m real”

He takes your face and cradles it with his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Let us walk” he grabs your hand while you both walk, using his hand as an anchor to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Upon close inspection, you see now the lake where he used to take you and Madi.

“War is coming sistris, and nothing can prevent it, not even chaos itself”

This information is not a surprise to you. Maybe you knew it all along, feared it but hoped for a peaceful resolution. That feeling of emptiness you had and the restlessness you felt prior was a way of rejecting the truth.

“Mother has taught you well. You’re better than I was. No wonder the spirit of the prior commanders is calling and choosing you”

“Aden” the rest of your sentence dies there, hanging in the air because you well know that, if he would still be alive, the commander would have chosen him and you would have been a simple heiress, waiting for her turn to the throne.

Your only reward was avenging his death when you were of age. To be fair, it was a clean duel, Ontari should have known it was coming.

“I never had the flame but I feel them now. And they are all anxious for what’s to come. You have a powerful ally Y/N and your future wife can be the decisive key to win or lose, it will depend on you”

You let go of his hand and stay rooted in place. Wanda have a part in this?

“We are no wiser nor gods to decide someone's destiny”

“And yet here you are telling me I’m the one who will scale the balance”

“I’m just a messenger”

“You’re one of the judges aren’t you?”

“I’m not sistris. I’m here on your request”

What request? What the hell is happening? One sec you’re trying to meditate and the next you’re in some kind of extremely weird dream, talking to your deceased brother like it was a casual walk at your favorite lake.

And now Wanda has come into the equation.

At her mention or more of your thoughts on her, you see red fog covering some bushes at the other side of the lake.

Aden follows your sight.

“Chaos awaits. It destroys and creates, it can never be tamed or understood but it can be beautiful if loved”

“Why do you keep referring to the chaos?”

“Sistris…” his face is filled with genuine curiosity, frowning his eyebrows exactly like your mother. And not for the first time you’re considering, that in fact, you’re the adopted one of the family.

“What Aden?” Yet you don’t look at him.

“Your betrothed has chaos magic”

He’s expecting a reaction from you but it honestly doesn’t affect you the type of magic Wanda has, why everybody is making a huge deal out of this is beyond your mind. The red fog in the meantime seems to get bigger and bigger.

“Y/N” a whisper comes from the bushes.

Your eyes are still glued to the color red, and for a flicker of a second, a silhouette starts forming only to vanish right after. Curios.

“Sunrise is coming and we cannot be late” That makes you turn to him.

You’re back at the ceremonial place but it seems darker, the stars are far gone and the moon seems to hide behind clouds

“Y/N” the voice seems familiar, you hear it so close to you but yet so far.

Aden walks closer to you when he sees the same red fog getting closer and circling the ceremonial place.

“Curios” Aden’s voice seems now like a whisper.

He places his hand on your shoulders, the act making you face him. His face is serious, a carbon copy of your mother.

“There are things I’m not allowed to tell. The knowledge we possess is not carved on stone and there are things that escape my mind as soon as I want to say them”

“Will I see you again?”

“You will know the answer to that”

Feeling a pull, you notice the red fog is close just to you, it plays around your hand. Aden sees it as well.

“Curios indeed” and you feel his strong arms once again around you and you take the opportunity to absorb his scent, to feel secure in his strength.

“I feel the pain in your heart. Mother loves you, don’t doubt it”

Sometimes we just need encouragement to fuel the fire inside of us. Until this point, you never thought simple words could do that.

“Ste yuj sistris” he says almost in a whisper, kissing your forehead. “Yu laik ai kru, Oso laik wonkru. Trust us, trust the commander in you, and tell your betrothed I said that to her as well”

Opening your eyes you see him still in front of you but the red fog is pulling you towards it. You see Aden moving his lips but can’t hear what he says.

“Aden?”

Trying to walk to him your way is stopped by the fog.

“ADEN” you yell and feel the tears falling from your eyes, just like that night many years ago. “ADEN”

“Curios indeed. Ai hod yu in heinofi” his silhouette seems like it’s vanishing from your line of vision, combined with a tinted red from the fog around your body, feeling warm and not unwelcome at all.

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re completely covered in the red fog… and all goes dark. … … … … … … … … …

You can hear noises but they are too loud for you to comprehend what’s happening. Your mind feels foggy and you feel tired, the pain in your head has become a migraine. You can feel the pressure on one side.

Feeling hands on your shoulders, slowly but surely the noises around you have started to get clear and you can identify voices, Madi, Octavia and Natasha are yelling and you feel pretty sure if you were to open your eyes, you can bet they’re doing some type of training.

“Y/N, please wake up”

“I told you to stay away from her!”

“Don’t you dare touch her if you want to keep your hand”

“Aden… don’t go” it scales as a whisper from your lips.

For a moment, you stop hearing Madi and Octavia and all you can feel are the hands on your shoulders, they feel warm and strong. You want to open your eyes but they feel heavy.

Hearing some rustling around you and the warmth from the hands is replaced by another pair, cold and callused, they feel foreign.

“Y/N… what did you say” Madi’s voice seems close now.

Getting up seems difficult. Groaning, you open your eyes, making your body sit up first. There’s a warm sensation on your forehead so you might as well open your eyes. Bringing your hand to the sour of pain you feel the thick and slick liquid. Blood indeed.

“Y/N you’re okay?” Her voice is worried and you detect a flinch of fear in it.

You look at her and see that Octavia has her sword out and is pointing it toward Wanda, Natasha in front of her, protecting her and you feel jealous. Why in the name of Gaia happen?

Madi is the one next to you, kneeling to see if you’re okay. Taking away her hand from touching your forehead, you seek impulse with your hands on the floor and stand up. Madi assisting you quickly. You look at her and nod, indicating you’re well enough to stand on your own, but she refuses to let you go.

“I’m okay”

Yet your words don’t seem to calm any of the situation in place and when you try to go and comfort her, Madi stops you. Seeing this, Wanda tries to go to you instead but is stopped by Natasha, who sees Octavia take one step towards her.

“Care to explain to me what’s happening? None of you should be here” trying your best calming voice.

“I could ask the same Heinofi” It’s been a while since you heard Octavia this exhaled and furious.

Nothing of this makes sense. With all the pain in your head, you find another solution and think as hard as you can, to instruct Wanda, if she can hear you and is ok, to tilt her head. Suddenly you feel a pair of eyes on you, effectively meeting her eye, Wanda’s frown is in place but she tilts her head, slightly but the move is there.

“Madi?” As stern as you can you utter the words.

She hesitates for a moment, probably because she never heard you using that tone or because you know your mother will arrive soon, if not sooner with all this apparent commotion.

“I was setting with Octavia the last supplies you’ll need to use at TonDC, when we heard a loud noise coming from here. When we arrived you were crashed in the rocks bleeding from your head and Wanda was standing a few meters away, her hands clasped around her magic”

“Y/N I wasn’t” but Wanda’s interrupted by Natasha’s hand on her hand. Now you’re the one feeling like seeing red.

“Octavia got the sword out and that’s when Natasha arrived”

“Glad I came when I did, two against one didn’t seem fair”

Now that makes sense. If you were blasted by Wanda’s magic that could explain why you kept seeing red fog but, didn’t Aden say Wanda couldn’t enter your mind? Then how you could see the red, characteristic of Wanda’s magic? Was she trying to enter your mind to see if you were okay, or she was unconsciously doing it?

“Octavia, please take away your sword from my betrothed”

“Can’t do Henofi”

“Octavia. I’m not asking”

That makes Octavia turn to look at you if barely, her eyes never leaving the pair of your guests. Madi’s hold on your body is doing nothing to keep you calm.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand”

“Octavia, em pleni!” And is the stern in your voice what makes Octavia fully look at you and Madi to loosen her grip on you.

“You vowed to protect and obey me”

“I vowed to protect the commander” Out of the corner of your eye you see Wanda taking a few steps out of Natasha’s reach, her eyes although guarded have a flicker of fear in them.

“Ai laik Heda, you like it or not,” you say between teeth. Masking your pain and foggy mind.

Funny things happen when the most calm and peaceful people raise their voices and utter strength into them. Madi lets you go but Octavia has difficulty relinquishing her guard and stance. You see the anger behind her eyes and finally, she puts her sword back in her scabbard.

“Yu laik ai kru” You speak these words towards Wanda specifically but mean to extend them towards Natasha and her clan as well.

Madi and Octavia look at you.

“Oso laik wonkru” you speak to them.

Hearing you speak trigedeslang is so foreign, since you barely use it, They’re more used to hearing from other people but not you, it makes them realize what the words you spoke convey.

“You are my people. We are one clan” you say for the sake of Wanda and Natasha and to make your stance very clear.

“War is imminent”

“Sistris”

“No Madi, it is. Aden told me”

“Aden?” Madi looks at you.

You can’t even if you tried, explain everything that happened inside your head (or outside) you’re still not sure where that place was or if you’ll go again.

“What happened was an accident. I startled Wanda. We cannot be divided. Ai laik Heda ”

The air feels heavy, and the implications of what you said, especially to Octavia, linger in the air. They never have seen you like this, Madi has a newfound respect for you if her kneeling in front of you indicates it. Octavia scans you, her scowl present but kneels.

“Jomp em op en you jump ai op”

“You are right daughter” You turn to see your mothers enter. Lexa was clad in her red stash and riding attire. Clarke is wearing a green cloak, you didn’t think she will travel with you.

“Octavia, Madi, rise"

“War is imminent. Aden has spoken to us”

What?

“Come Y/N, your ascension ceremony should take place today at noon”

Clarke looks at you and her eyes carry so much weight and sorrow.

“Mom?”

She just opens her hands, the flame is nested between the metal box you dreaded to see. What you don’t take into consideration is that there are two little boxes, meaning Wanda will get chipped too.

“Y/N, a flame-keeper has not been in our clans for so many years. Times are changing and for us, it changes as well in our traditions”

“Interesting use of words, Lexa. Remind me to learn to be as political and coherent as you” Stark's voice comes out of nowhere and suddenly you see a red suit floating. It’s close to the floor but you might have imagined it, you certainly will be confused after the blast.

“Natasha, be a dear and take the second box. You have been appointed to be the flame keeper, isn’t that exciting?”

So that’s a no on Wanda chipped but wait. Natasha?'

“With due respect Heda, I will use my right to duel and challenge Duchness Romanoff for the place of the flame keeper”

You all turn to see Octavia slicing her hand in a way that allows the hand to bleed minimally. Before anyone can say anything Natasha’s raspy voice accepts it.

“Lexa?” You hear your mom speak.

And then all goes silent, the calmness you felt before is there and you don’t have to look to see that Wanda has taken your hand and has interlaced your fingers… nor do you see the red magic coming from her hands and taking you once again into darkness.

-/-/-/-/-/

Tag List: @spongebobtentacles @wandamaximoff727 @cristin-rjd @aawake-atnight @msromanoffswife @juno-verse @wandastan-2 @wannabe-fic-reader @cd-4848

[jeannereames]

I notice a certain pattern when reading academic scholarship, and I wanted to ask if you see this too, that goes more or less like this: "X people were indifferent to being conquered by Y, because very little changed to them in regards to how things were under the rulership of their previous overlord Z, so it was business as usual. In fact, X people might actually have welcomed conquest, because of less taxes, less persecution, or [insert motive]".

I tend to find a lot of this regarding Alexander's conquests especially with Egypt, but with other Asian regions too. (I also read a lot of this regarding the Roman takeover of Egypt, arguing the people were indifferent to the Ptolemies being overthrown). To the point were I see this becoming a trope of sorts? I'm not disputing that many were happy to see the Persians go, but I can't help but find the "people were indifferent to their rulers" approach de-politicizing and even reductive of the role the people played & their beliefs. I also wonder how much is propaganda to benefit the winners.

Winning the Hearts and Minds… e.g., avoiding insurgency after conquest

An interesting question, and observation, but I fear it may be projecting modern assumptions/ ideas (neither is quite the right word) backwards in time. First, I’ll list what some of the accidental assumptions are, then delve into them. But this is a good question in that it lets us discuss some quite fundamental differences between then and now.

First, it can be easy to forget (because it’s hard to imagine) how little information about the larger world the average person had, especially when living away from urban centers.

Second, the query perhaps over-assumes the political impact individuals could have in most areas. Obviously, this varied.

Third, the role of religion—and perceptions of who has the approval of the gods—shouldn’t be underestimated in who wins/loses and general acceptance of the outcome.

Fourth, what probably affected people most were immediate impacts from combat itself. This, again, would have varied, depending on how close one was to the conflict (or invading army). If caught in the middle of it, it could be absolutely catastrophic, from death to rape to destruction of homes/fields, to later starvation when armies requisitioned your winter stores, etc. (I find this detail is often overlooked in analyses.)

These are each relatively complex things that I can’t go into in detail, but we can take a closer look at each. That said…I tend to agree with those assessments referred to in the ask. For the average person not near the locus of combat/disruption, they probably experienced relatively little change in their day-to-day. Therefore, they may not have cared. But that is a very broad generalization that must be tweaked depending on various factors, not least “who” was the victor. For instance, Alexander changed prior (Persian) administrative structures relatively little. But the Ptolemies could be ruthless in taxes, especially outside Alexandria. Earlier, Persia had definitely been a lighter overlord than the neo-Assyrians or neo-Babylonians. There was a reason every time a new Assyrian king came to power, the provinces rebelled.

Let’s start with Point One: people, especially in rural areas, might not know much of what was going on in the “wider world.” If travel in antiquity was more prevalent than many modern people assume, travel was also a perk of wealth. And travelers tended to show up in/pass through urban areas where they could find lodging, or in seaside towns. That meant news was slower than a snail in the hinterlands. I’m quite sure there were places in Persia that didn’t even realize Alexander was there until months, perhaps even a year or more, after he’d moved on!

The ancient world was a rural world. Even at the height Rome’s power, only (maybe) 40% of the population lived in urban centers. Compare that to 83% of the modern US population living in urban centers, 84.5% in Britain, and—for contrast—65% of the Chinese population, and 74% of Russia. But 92% of the Japanese do.

In short, throughout most of antiquity, more people did NOT live in cities and may have seen only a handful of foreigners in their lives. They rarely moved more than 5-10 miles from where they were born.

This is important to understand, when it comes to reactions to a change in “overlord-ship.” They probably rarely/never even saw the “overlord.” It would have been locals who assessed and collected taxes, then took those taxes to be paid. Also, remember that quite late, many taxes were still paid “in kind.” E.g., in non-monetary forms.

So that may help set the stage for why historians say the average person probably didn’t notice a lot of change—or care. Unless there was a sharp shift in how high taxes ran.

That brings us to Point Two, about the impact of individuals on political structures. In MOST places, the average person had little-to-no say in politics. Even in some of the democratic poleis of ancient Greece, much of the voting was done by urbanites, not rural farmers. And there were many more rural farmers. This is the opposite of the US today, where one big complaint about the US Senate, with 2 senators per state—not based on population—is that it gives an outsized voice to swathes of very rural and unpopulated areas. But that system was created in an age when rural areas were much more populated. They are not about to give up their statistical advantage, so altering the Constitution to fix it after 200+ years of change is out of reach.

And that’s just in the democratic poleis of Greece, such as Athens. Outside of Magna Graecia, democracy was a unicorn. Even Rome was a republic. In Lydia, in Persia, in Egypt…yeah, no.

That said, a couple other areas do suggest greater “citizen” input, and these are peoples who famously resisted Alexander: the Scythian groups of the Steppes, the Sogdian and Baktrian populations, and especially the independent tribes/populations of the S. Indus River areas. Alexander cut a bloody swathe down the Indus because the people. Would. Not. Submit.

(This is an area of Alexander studies, btw, that I think needs much more research, but requires reading not just Alexander sources, but Indian ones as well, and weighing the historiography of each. There’s an unfortunate divide that’s largely a function of geography and language in the modern world. It’s not dissimilar to the issues with Mesopotamian sources on Alexander, but in that case, not many ANE/Mesopotamian sources have survived. India is much richer in evidence, I understand. A new book IS due out soon from Brill: How the Brahmins Won: from Alexander to the Guptas. Being Brill, it won’t be something flaky. But, also being Brill, it’s godawful expensive: $228.)

Anyway, resistance to conquest by Alexander or anybody else depends on the POLITICAL structures of the place conquered. So the Greeks resisted Macedon generally. They were used to making their own political decisions. In contrast, areas of Persian that weren’t accustomed to independent rule accepted a change in ruler more easily. But once you get further east (and north) that changes. Also, in Italy, it would have been difference. And certainly, Rome experienced LOTS of problems dealing with the Germans! And Celts/Gauls before them. Egypt also typically resisted because while it had a god-king, it also didn’t like foreign rule. They resisted Alexander less because they knew he’d go away again, and he got rid of the Persians. But in the end, they got the Ptolemies who weren’t any better (and arguably worse).

So Alexander had something of an advantage moving into areas that were largely not accustomed to a great deal of autonomy in rule (with some select exceptions).

This leads into Point Three, the role of religion in ancient warfare. For many ancient peoples, the ones ruling them had that role by “divine right.” This concept of a divinely chosen king is very, very old in Mesopotamia. The earliest Sumerian texts talk about kingship first descending on Eridu “from heaven.” If this sort of divinely selected kingship isn’t as extreme as Egyptian notions of pharoah as a living god, most areas Alexander marched through had such ideas. “As above, so below.” Ergo, victory in war indicated victory in heaven and divine favor. Alexander winning meant the gods were on his side. Who’s going to argue with the gods?

Yet it's also typically religion (or higher taxes/mistreatment) that drove resistance, resentment, or rebellion against a new king/conqueror. This is WHY Alexander was generally very careful in his respect for local gods and religious practices. Actions by the one conquering could reverse a perception that the gods were on the conqueror’s side. For example, the Persians might have been more inclined to accept Alexander if he hadn’t torched their ceremonial city with its fire temples, etc. He really had no idea what he was doing, and his message was half for Greece anyway. But he lacked a real grasp of Persian symbolism and so, put his foot in it. He’d been much better handling Egypt.

In any case, when looking for ideological reasons for resistance, that would come from religion more than political theory, at least in most places.

And finally, Point Four. What is most likely to generate resistance is when an invading army causes LOSS. This loss can be very literal: as in loss of life, loss of property, or destruction of farmland and with it, livelihood. Or it can be a bit more theoretical, as in loss of (prior) independence, loss of potential trade and trade markets, or threats to alliances that benefit the people.

Resentment owing to death and destruction of towns is fairly straightforward. This is why, when a people choose to resist, Alexander, the Romans, the Assyrians earlier, etc., may enact quite shocking (to moderns) executions of whole populations: certainly of menfolk down to children, but sometimes of everybody (the Romans were noted for that). They know that X people won’t ever forgive them, so they elect to eliminate the problem for at least a generation, or they just exterminate the people altogether and use the land to reward their own soldiers or allies. A lot of the land the Roman consul Marius passed out to his soldiers was just such war-booty.

But there are other, less obvious forms of loss that generate resentment and rebellion.

For instance, armies march on their stomachs, and until recently, invading armies typically ate off the land. This is why Memnon’s proposed strategy of burning crops to freeze-out Alexander when he first invaded would have worked. He had only about a month’s rations. Yet Memnon’s advice to burn the fields wasn’t taken precisely because it would have devastated the farmers in that region of Asia Minor: destroying their stores for the coming year (as well as taxes due). Local satraps would have had to pay to import food to replace the loss, or let their people starve.

They elected to ignore Memnon instead, and, well, the rest is literally history.

Ancient armies couldn’t bring supplies far for a variety of logistical reasons. If the army is simply passing through and they’re wealthy enough, the impact on the locals may not be that great: e.g., they don’t deplete the needed stores and pay for what they take. But if they aren’t rich enough (and even sometimes when they are), they just take it. If they wind up stationed in an area a while, the burden becomes too great on the local populations. The army is, well, an army. With weapons. Locals have a choice: resist and die now or give them food and die later from starvation. This is precisely why resistance wasn’t necessarily immediate; people hoped X army would leave before their storage hit critical lows when fighting back became the only option.

This is one reason you’ll read especially in Alexander’s early campaigns that he grants this or that town or place exemption from taxes. He doesn’t want to anger the locals who are providing him supplies. (Not always with pay.) He was also able to avoid resentment in many cases just because he never stayed put long. But when he did stay a while, as at Tyre, it created logistical difficulties.

This is the sort of detail our histories don’t dwell on much, so we’re not always sure how armies are getting supplies, or it’s tucked away into the corners of other descriptions. “The so-and-so people sent gifts and rations…” etc.

Similarly, when armies or conquerors interfered with established trade ties, this could also arouse resistance…as Alexander found in Sogdiana. The people there wanted an open (permeable) border in order to continue trading (and intermarrying with) steppe tribes to the north. Alexander started out trying to impose a closed border with hill forts to police it. THAT is one chief reason for the rise of insurgency up there. The region wasn’t resistant initially once Bessus was removed. They even cooperated in his capture. Spitamenes turned over Bessus and made peace. But within a few months, the whole area was in open rebellion due to Alexander’s policies regarding the border.

It took marrying Roxana—and figuring out why they were fighting him—before he could march out two years after he entered. Generally, the further he got from areas already familiar to him, the more he put his foot in it.

I’ve been using Alexander to illustrate because his campaign is familiar to me, but these same general principles apply to any army and any commander. While some areas met invasion with resistance (by more than just the ruling class), much depended on the type of government already in place, as well as local views of the gods and war. The more absolute the style of rule, and as long as religious norms weren’t offended and exceptional demands not made, then yes, many conquered people didn’t necessarily care, and may even have welcomed a change in leadership.

[skylinesnsunshines]

Hihi I hope you are doing well!

omggg could you do a reading on Bambam to see how he is doing? His recent posts are so worrying :((( I went to one of his concerts not long ago and he looks sososo tired but he still killed the stage lol. I really hope everything is okay 😭😭😭 Got7 is suppose to comeback early next year too so I am so concerned omfg sending all my love to them

hi there! yes ill do a quick card pull on his energy to see where he's at

DISCLAIMER: this is all speculative and for entertainment purposes only, so take it with a grain of salt

from his tweets i was definitely worried, and from the spread i can see that he's going through a lot of turmoil right now. to put it simply, what Jackson said to him was incredibly valid as i can see that he seems to feel like outside forces are making him go through things that he necessarily want to do. i'm not gonna sugarcoat and again this is all for entertainment purposes only, but given that bam is a taurus sun with a pisces moon and cancer rising his outer layer is often misunderstood. underneath how he wants to be seen, he's a really sensitive individual who might need more time to navigate through life. i feel that he often takes on the burden without even realising it, and when he was with the 7's he was able to share the burden. since he's a soloist now he doesn't have that safety net to rely on. he's only been with his company for 3 years, and i sense a lot of reluctance and disagreements on his behalf regarding their creative vision. i feel like his rose-coloured glasses have come off and he's in denial of accepting change, there might have been shifts in management or finance within the company which has impacted the initial deal that they agreed upon. he feels taken advantage of but also helpless because he's like "i didn't agree to this". i think in prior years he was just so "all in" and i wouldn't be surprised if he was constantly jumping from idea to idea because of his jupiter influenced moon, and i feel that it has caused him burnout which he is forced to work through due to his prior obligations. i can see that he's probably run himself dry, and i sense that the circumstances he's in doesn't encourage his autonomy which is why he feels helpless. he definitely needs to take a step back and in the future i see him going through a journey of understanding his worth and acknowledging his strengths/weaknesses. i also feel that in this time it would be most beneficial for him to take a step back and truly focus on himself as he feels pressure to constantly show up for the fans. i think in the future he will be freed from his obligations and feel a sense of relief, but at the moment he might be thinking of taking a step back to recuperate and understand his self-value. i see that his mother might be his greatest influence at the moment, and he might even go to thailand to stay with her for some time to truly heal. he does have a lot of good people around him who is looking out for him, but i think before he must've just brushed it off and said "i'm fine" so this is the catalyst of change. he'll go back to basics and learn to get in touch with himself, as at the moment it seems like he feels disconnected. i truly wish the best for him though and have so much hope for his recovery. i think this will make way for a more authentic version of bambam. please send him all your love and good energy <3

that is all! if you have any feedback, comments, queries or requests please don’t hesitate to reach out to me my ask box is always open. sending you all love, light, positivity and abundance <3 much love

[justagalwhowrites]

What now? What’s next?

Hi Besties!

I can’t believe it BUT Beskar Doll has now officially come to a close and with it comes the end of my first two fan fictions.

I started writing Beskar Doll on March 16. I’d never written a word of fan fiction before that and had only recently started reading it (thank you to Stitches by @djarinsbeskar for making me love the genre so much I had to write it!) I started making it for myself and talking to my friend about it. The file is still just called Mando because I didn’t have a name and never intended for anyone but me to read it. But after a few chapters and plenty of encouragement from my dear friend @mysticnightmarewrites, I decided to post it on AO3 because why not? A few people might like it.

So began sharing Din and Doll’s story, which grew into sharing Joel and Doc’s story in Lavender and publishing more than 520k words of fan fiction (not counting drabbles on here) since then. (For those playing along at home, that’s more than 3,795 words per day on average - oy!) It also led to starting this Tumblr and I have so loved getting to know the community that exists in the fan fic world on this chaotic little corner of the internet.

Of course, this is not the end of my fan fiction life (though it does feel like an end to an era.) I started sharing Yearling, another TLOU story, a few weeks back and have plans for other fics going forward.

Here’s what I’m planning for the next few months, both fan fic wise and beyond:

August

- Continue Yearling, updating 2-3 times a week

- Write all the asks that are sitting in my inbox because OMG y’all are lovely and patient and I want to give you just all the content

- Finish watching Narcos and plan a Javi P fic (I have something in mind here that I think will both work and give me the brain rot 🤞🤞🤞)

- Finish my rewrite of book one of my book series, potentially start the query process

- Go on vacation, start teaching in the evenings and potentially host a foreign exchange student (these things may impact posting schedules, I’ll do my best to make sure you know what’s up!)

September

- Launch second long form fic (likely the Javi P fic) updating twice a week

- Continue Yearling, updating twice a week

- Kinktober prep? Do y’all think I should do kinktober? I write smut but like… plot with porn sprinkled in, not sure if kinktober is the place for my content? Send help??

- Query Ace

October

- Continue two fics (Yearling and other)

- Kinktober? Maybe???

- Query Ace

- Football games (my husband was born and raised in a college town with a major team - literally lived a mile from the stadium his whole life. He went to school there and now works there. His birthday is in October so that is when we end up at games. It will probably interfere with writing time on more than one occasion!)

November

- NaNo in the form of an AU Joel fic! I have a few ideas here so stays tuned

- Continuing Yearling and other fic, updating at least once a week for both (hopefully twice but NaNoing on a third fic may change that.)

- Query Ace/explore self publishing

This is what’s to come from me in the near future! Thank you so much for being here and being interested in what I have to share. It means so much ❤️

Love you all!

[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Bargain

Summary: Bloody and bruised from the nautiloid ship crash, forging a contract with a devil becomes your best and only option for survival. This is the first flashback oneshot for the main story of the series. The poem is The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Word count: 2197 Notes: Dealing with a devil, canon-typical blood and injury.

My writing masterlist

Bottles of Ithbank and mugs of red ale rose up to meet the bright stars embroidered into the velvety midnight sky. Comforting and familiar voices of laughter and cheer bubbled around you. It was a night to remember, reminisce and celebrate. In destroying the Absolute you had faced the impossible and lived on to tell the tale. You had gained allies and most importantly, you had met people, who you proudly called your friends.

Deep in thought, you fiddled with the ring on your left hand’s ring finger. A vexing lark from the gift giver, as the ring would fit no other digit. You had bet your soul on never removing the stupid piece of jewellery, at the same time dooming yourself to the eternity of answering delighted queries about a presumed marriage.

Every time you took a sigh to explain you were, in fact, not married, you heard the devil over your shoulder laugh somewhere deep in the Hells. Out of sheer spite, you wished you could hate him. But he had given you this life and this victory, so you endured.

Wyll, the freshly appointed Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate, sat next to you by the large table and noticed you twiddling with the ring.

“So. Do you know what became of Raphael?” he asked cautiously and nodded towards your hands.

You shrugged, not exactly keen on discussing the devil even though the wine had already spun your mind into a pleasant, relaxing buzz. You had been prepared to answer this particular question during the course of the evening and it was no shock Wyll was the one to voice it. You had met with Wyll from time to time after your travels together, but had always avoided the subject. Luckily the Grand Duke was a busy man. 

“I guess your pact still stands then. I’m sorry,” Wyll said and took a swig from his goblet.

“Don’t be,” you corrected him and opened your mouth to justify why, but Wyll just looked at you with compassion.

He was the only one of your companions who truly knew what you had been through since he had made the same choice – albeit your reasons were initially more selfish than his. The only difference was that he had found a way to outwit his devil patron to get out of his pact. The Duke Ravengard still had horns, but no longer even a tiny bit of the infernal power of a warlock was coursing through his veins.

Wyll changed the subject: “It feels like the whole thing happened in another life.” 

“It really does,” you sighed and raised the bottle to your lips again.

“I’m glad you decided to stay in Baldur’s Gate, though.”

“Don’t say anything about being a hero, please,” you exclaimed and Wyll grinned. You couldn’t help but grin right back at him.

“I wasn’t going to,” he assured you.

“I’m done playing the hero for now. I need time to put my feet up” – you lifted your boots and planted them on the table – “and enjoy just being alive.”

Wyll shot you a humorous look, but decided against noting how the heroics usually had happened when you had tried to avoid those situations the most.

Six months earlier

Hidden behind wreckage, you dared to inhale a shallow breath and barely held back a cough. Unknown parts of the nautiloid ship and horrifying, giant flesh pods laid scattered and broken around you. Their colourful liquids were mixed on the ground into sickening pools. There was a reek of burning something you didn’t want to think about and it made breathing even harder.

A couple of your ribs were likely broken from being thrown around by the impact from  exploding tubes. It had not been one of your finest moments or the best aimed fire bolt, but at least you had lost the pursuers, for now.

You prayed to every known god and goddess under your breath. You had survived the nautiloid crash and found yourself alone again amidst the debris – only to be attacked by a group of pathetic, random looters. It was five against one and you didn’t even have a weapon on you. It would’ve been a tough fight on a good day, but you were seriously injured, bleeding and delirious from the environmental hazards affecting your senses. So you had attempted to cause as much chaos as you could to hide.

If you had thought getting taken by mind flayers was bad enough, it had been pure downhill since then. The inevitability of this one becoming your last adventure started to settle in.

You sat on the broken floor, leaning into a crevice in the debris and listened to any voices. The looter group was not far, but unfortunately they were not foolish enough to make noise as they were tracking you down. You had maybe minutes to live and there was literally nothing you could have done about it.

So you prayed. Incoherent words tumbled from your mouth under your broken breaths.

You would give anything for the power to smite those pathetic thiefs.

Anything for the power and means to save yourself from the predicament.

You closed your eyes and focused on listening to the approaching final moments of your existence.

Anything to live and die on another day.

A soft step. Then another. Your pulse surged. Someone was coming, but nothing about him was what you had expected.

A man you would have eagerly described as mysterious and handsome walked towards you. His steps were leisurely, his pace unhurried and his expression tinged with curiosity.

Maybe some poison gas had finally addled your mind and you were seeing things.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—” he recited carefully with graceful cadence, pacing closer.

A poem? So you were either dead or poisoned. Your head lolled to the side, trying to see his face clearly in the midst of the smoke and floating embers.

“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” His voice was smooth, almost drawling. It sent a warm shiver down your back. His hands motioned in rhythm with the words.

The stranger paused right in front of you and continued: “’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door—”

He leaned down to have a closer look at you and his expression turned unreadable. His eyes were chestnut brown, cunning and framed by dark lashes. The high cheekbones were tinged with healthy red.

“Only this and nothing more,” he ended the verse with a contemplative note.

You blinked in confusion, openly staring and wondering could he have been one of the looters, because he certainly didn’t look like one. His clothes were fancy: a blue doublet, ornamented with gold trimmings and a frilly collar. His brown hair was combed back and waves of light curls gathered behind his ears.

Maybe you had gone mad or lost consciousness already.

“Are you really here?” you asked in a shaky voice.

“Is that not why you were rapping at my door?” he returned the question.

Delirious from the smoke and blood loss, you couldn’t understand what he meant.

“Please, you have to help me…” you pleaded, still unsure if the man really even existed.

“Wouldn’t you rather help yourself?” he remarked, tapping his chin in calculating thought. His gaze was evaluating you.

“What? I don’t…” you spluttered with desperation.

“Come.”

He took your hand and pulled you up from the floor. His touch was almost burning, or maybe your hands were just that cold from the loss of blood. A consuming inferno of bright flames swallowed you both and instantly you reappeared in an entirely different place.

The warm air and the general, faint smell of fire and sulphur ravaged your senses. Avernus.

“The House of Hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed,” the stranger presented dramatically with a flourish motion of his arms – an invitation for you to look around at all the lavish glamour. Paintings of devils hung on the walls and the large fireplace was lit with the most mesmerising, hungry fire you had ever seen. A massive table right next to you was loaded with mouth-watering delicacies and you were overwhelmingly reminded how hungry and weak you were.

Your legs were shaking and every muscle in your body ached, resisting the notion of staying up on your feet. Every breath now made your lungs sizzle, the air burning on its way inside.

“So you’re a devil?” you asked feebly.

The stranger crooked a smile at your quick wit and answered: “Raphael. Very much at your service.”

A devil – out of all the names of the gods you had taken in vain, this was the one to save you. The irony stung deep.

“Forgive me that I don’t drop a curtsy. I’m feeling so…” you fumbled to find the proper word and focused your energy on staying on your feet. You glanced down and realised that you had already smudged the floor with blood and dirt.

Raphael noticed the stains too and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, you felt better and stopped gripping the table edge, knuckles white. Air poured effortlessly into your lungs without any pain and although shaky, you felt that you could stand properly. Your posture eased.

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured in surprise, but at the same time your pulse started quickening. As little as you knew of devils, you knew for a fact that they didn’t give anything for free.

“You’re welcome.” Raphael bowed lightly and pulled a chair for you.

“Please, sit, partake. You and I have much to discuss,” he mused and when you were comfortably seated, he circled around to the other side of the table.

Now healed, you were positively ravenous. You hesitated only a second before starting to fill your plate with pork sausages and honey-sauteed vegetables. Raphael’s crooked smile deepened, but he only watched, evaluating.

“How did you find me?” you asked, when the silence began feeling too oppressive.

Raphael tilted his head to the side, gauging your refreshingly lame reaction to the revelation of his nature. He replied: “That delicious life or death predicament you were in did the knocking, but you, my dear, were the one to push the door open.”

You swallowed a mouthful of food. “I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.”

Raphael hid his smile, which felt even worse than seeing it widen. He leaned over the table on his elbows, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

“Oh, but you did. You wanted to survive. You craved the power to burn those insignificant worms,” he explained with an intensive look in his eyes. Then he leaned back in his seat and continued: “Unless, you’re saying there has been a mistake? I can send you back with an apology.”

“No!” you interjected.

The devil’s eyes glinted. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, a piece of parchment manifested into the air. Red letters in the language of the Hells were seared on the surface. A quill hovered next to it.

Your pulse quickened again as comprehension snaked its tendrils around you: You had prayed to give anything to save yourself. Anything, including your very soul as if it were a mere trinket to be traded off. But, what else was it in this transaction between life and death? You would lose both your life and soul, if you didn’t take the deal. A soul didn’t do much good for you if you were dead already.

“Tell me, what is your name, mortal?” Raphael asked.

“Tav.”

“Well then, Tav. Let’s bargain,” said the devil in the most complacent tone you had ever heard. “I can grant you the ability to manifest my power. The power to tear through your enemies, to guile the unworthy and cull the weak – the power to survive.”

You set the utensils down and drew in a shaky breath. “You want my soul?”

Raphael cocked a brow, entertained, and leaned over the table, closer to you. He said: “Lest you have something else to offer for your salvation, but I promise you this: I take good care of my clients.”

You stared right into the chestnut brown eyes of the human facade of the devil, who was after your very soul.

And nodded slowly.

“I accept,” you said simply, forcing your tone even. “We can go over the details after I’ve killed the fuckers.”

The devil barked a laugh.

“Excellent.”

You signed off the contract for your soul. It would take a long time until the gravity of what you had just done would settle in. In the meanwhile, you would enjoy the patronage of Raphael and the benefits of the warlock pact.

In a swirl of flames, you were returned to the wreck of the nautiloid ship, right at the feet of the looting mob.

“She’s here!”

“Indeed I am,” you snarled as infernal energy crackled and surged on your palm.

There would be only cinders left when you were through with them.

[rjzimmerman]

[Note: I learned from the Biden debate debacle that the New York Times is generally a bad media source. While the stories may be interesting and the reporters generally highly qualified, the Times teases its stories by hiding crucial facts that aren't suggested by the headline it uses, or by ignoring other crucial facts. Example: you have to read through several paragraphs before you learn that artifical intelligence might consumer about 0.5% of our global electricity by 2027. Does that number justify the headline? No. Basically, I guess I'm saying that the New York Times needs fact checking, just as it's so proud of its fact checking of politician's statements.)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

A few weeks ago, I joined a small group of reporters for a wide-ranging conversation with Bill Gates about climate change, its causes and potential solutions. When the topic turned to the issue of just how much energy artificial intelligence was using, Gates was surprisingly sanguine.

“Let’s not go overboard on this,” he said during a media briefing on the sidelines of an event he was hosting in London.

A.I. data centers represent a relatively small additional load on the grid, Gates said. What’s more, he predicted that insights gleaned from A.I. would deliver gains in efficiency that would more than make up for that additional demand.

In short, Gates said, the stunning rise of A.I. will not stand in the way of combating climate change. “It’s not like, ‘Oh no, we can’t do it because we’re addicted to doing chat sessions,’” he said.

And while it’s too early to draw a definitive conclusion on the issue, a few things are already clear: A.I. is having a profound impact on energy demand around the world, it’s often leading to an uptick in planet-warming emissions, and there’s no end in sight.

A.I. data centers have a big appetite for electricity. The so-called graphic processing units, or G.P.U.s, used to train large language models and respond to ChatGPT queries, require more energy than your average microchip and give off more heat.

With more data centers coming online almost every week, projections about how much energy will be required to power the A.I. boom are soaring.

One peer-reviewed study suggested A.I. could make up 0.5 percent of worldwide electricity use by 2027, or roughly what Argentina uses in a year. Analysts at Wells Fargo suggested that U.S. electricity demand could jump 20 percent by 2030, driven in part to A.I.

[literaticat]

Hello Jenn, I have a weird question. I've been working on a project for about 8 months or so now based on the urban legends of the city where I live. I borrow from a lot of them, and the general history of the city as well. The work isn't a retelling, but it does use those legends to support the overall narrative. Recently on twitter I saw a querying author pitching a book that is very different from mine, but also uses those same urban legends/history of the same city. They are two very different works both inspired by the same place/history of that place, but I'm worried about the world being what it is that if I give my book to my agent/go on sub/get a deal and an unagented author sees that I have the same inspiration they will worry about plagiarism.

How are issues with retellings or referenced histories managed? I've looked at their pitch a few times since it crossed my dash and it really does seem wholly different in intent and focus and how those stories are used. But it's impossible to separate the setting, the theme, the impact, and the spookiness of these legends. I had no idea who they were or what they were up to until that twitter post. But now I'm worried about hurting them since I have an agent atm and they don't.

People have similar ideas, settings, etc, ALL THE TIME. You know that you didn't plagiarize this book -- it very clearly is different in every way except the "Inspo" of these stories, which are stories that thousands (millions?) of people know. They are public knowledge -- it's not like this person INVENTED them.

A thousand books are set in Olden Days England, and include things like "getting a lemon ice at Gunthers" or "buying Hoby boots" or having a "well-sprung carriage" or whatever -- those books aren't copying each other AT ALL, they are making standard references to a real place and time. There can be multiple books that reference, say, Marie Laveau and other tales of New Orleans, or Anne Boleyn's Ghost and the Tower of London -- and nobody could really say "this person plagiarized me!" because those stories are like, part of history.

So I wouldn't stress about this. If anyone were to come at you with a wild accusation of plagiarism, well, you have receipts. You started writing your book years ago, presumably. You have word documents that have dates on them, research that has dates on it, emails and different drafts between yourself and your agent, etc. Their book doesn't exist in public yet, you don't know them -- how COULD you have read it?

As for the idea of randomly "hurting" a stranger's chances -- who is to say that this WOULD hurt them. Maybe it would HELP them. If your book gets a publishing deal and people are obsessed with it, maybe the thirst for stories with these themes will be increased. And as you say, their book iS different from yours, so somebody who is interested in these themes but doesn't want a carbon copy of your book would probably LOVE theirs.

You didn't know about this person until you randomly came across a tweet of theirs -- who is to say they'd ever even know about your book unless they randomly came across a tweet of YOURS? Thousands of books get published every year -- I'm not saying you aren't special, I'm sure you are, but like -- you are the main character of your own life. You aren't even a walk-on cameo in theirs. It's highly unlikely that your book getting published is going to change the trajectory of some random stranger's life and launch you into Villain territory.

If anything -- maybe the two of you should become friends, since you obviously have similar interests. If you DO get a book deal, maybe you reach out and say, hey, I noticed on Twitter that you are writing a book with similar themes -- I know they are pretty different, but if/when you are getting published, I'd love to help out with promotion, since I too am obsessed with [the ghosts of Charleston, or whatever]. Maybe you get a Ghostly gang together and all help one another's books!

TL;DR, don't worry about it.

[skaruresonic]

For a positive SA2 query, how about your favourite level for each character? :)

Sonic - Crazy Gadget. City Escape is iconic and all, but Crazy Gadget is one of my all-time favorite Sonic levels because it shows an incredibly vibrant and dynamic side of the ARK, one which elevates it from "cool space station" to the "feels Sonic enough to me to count as a proper Sonic stage" category. This is a side of the colony rarely, if ever, glimpsed in subsequent games. (As much as I love ShTH, The Doom and Lost Impact feel too clinical and gray at times.)

The environment is alive with constant motion; you see cargo get shipped and loaded outside the observation glass; the gravity changes with a flip of the switch; you can slide down upside-down rails and take a ride through pneumatic delivery tubes. Propelled by high-speed platforming, it's just a blast all the way through.

I'm amazed that sections of the floor light up under your feet. That couldn't have been easy to implement on the Dreamcast. (Don't forget the Xbox references on the walls!)

From a narrative standpoint, Crazy Gadget is one of those Sonic levels where the story lights a fire under your feet. Because there are high stakes attached to your typical goal of "gotta go fast," you feel it more keenly, I think.

Deem's voice acting really sells the intensity of the situation. Even knowing he's programmed to bark at the player every two minutes, it seldom fails to have an effect on me when he chides Sonic for being "too slow" and warns him that if he doesn't "come here, she will die!" I love it.

---

Tails - Prison Lane. I love the environmental details they included in order to make it feel like you're traversing a treacherous maximum-security prison while making it seem neglected at the same time, crowned with rust and plunged in dreary gloom. The prison is simultaneously crammed with robots and strangely lifeless, what with a lack of facilities and cafeterias. You're always being watched by the cameras Portal 1-style.

The gears churning as the elevator carries you up; the steam spouting from the pipes; incandescent tube lights bolted to the walls flickering erratically, despite that never really being anything the average player would be given reason to notice... All of it paints a pretty sordid picture of the prison, and you can suddenly see why Tails worries about Sonic being stuck here.

Plus it's just plain fun to shoot everything in sight and this is the quickest level in which to mow them down lol

--- Knuckles - Tie between Wild Canyon and Aquatic Mine. The former because it's easy to navigate while providing interesting sights and the latter for letting us relax a little with a mysterious, lowkey vibe nice for spelunking. I also like how few enemies are in both; it really makes you feel like you're on your own.

--- Rouge - Dry Lagoon. While normally I'm not wild on SA2's desert stages, this one's really pretty with its butterflies and oasis theme, and fits well with Rouge's general character. It's lowkey enough to be pretty stress-free, which is fitting for a first level. It's also the only level that really takes advantage of Rouge's ability to swim; it's a shame she doesn't get to swim more in later levels. Can't forget our helpful friend, Mr. Turtle ;A; In addition, Dry Lagoon boasts a unique glitch wherein Rouge can climb walls and dig underwater. If you stop at certain points, she might be able to stay there indefinitely.

--- Shadow - White Jungle. Despite being the Dark counterpart of the frantic Green Forest, the atmosphere is different enough to distinguish it as its own thing. Moodier, more somber. Almost ethereal.

The sound of rushing waterfalls and the white sheens of mist blanketing the jungle almost make you feel as though you're experiencing it for the first time alongside Shadow. The landscape is full of hidden dangers and curiosities we don't have time to stop and contemplate. Fog... it doesn't bother him.

--- Eggman - Why must I choose. Cosmic Wall go whee. But Iron Gate also go whee. Fucking shit up is really fun in both these stages and you'd practically have to do nothing in order to win like Luigi get anything less than an A rank in the former. Lost Colony also go whee with a quieter more mysterious tone. hhhhh

[tap-tap-tap-im-in]

Haven't done a computer status update in a little bit. Raspberry Pi media server has been psuedo-retired. It's currently still functioning as a media server for a christmas display at my wife's work until the end of December.

It has been successfully replaced by the Dell Optiplex that I got from work. I was able to skip the process of building a migration script for the server (to allow files to be moved and refound via filename & hash), but only because I've been mapping storage outside the server's webroot via link files in the upload directory. So on the new HD the files are actually in the upload directory rather than linked to it. As far as the server knows they're in the same place.

I transferred the software between machines by making a new install of vogon on the optiplex and then importing a mysqldump of the existing install into it, bringing the user accounts, media data, and other configuration elements with it. I did end up changing the storage engine of the data and data_meta tables into innodb (from isam) and adding some additional indexing. There were some noticeable performance differences on the generated join queries between servers. We were looking at 7sec+ lookup times for searches in the audio module. I'm still not sure if it's a mariadb version difference between raspbian and ubuntu lts, if something got corrupted in the export/import process, or if it was some strange storage lookup difference between running the database off of a SETA Hard-Drive versus an SD card. I initially thought maybe it was a fragmentation issue, but the built in optimization processes didn't really impact it, but with the adjustments to the indexing we're regularly getting query times measured in microseconds versus seconds, so it's working pretty well now.

The x86 processor and the faster storage (without the power dropout issues) have really improved the experience. Especially with reading comic books.

If I haven't explained it before, the way the CBZ reader works is that it sends a file list from the archive to the browser, the browser requests an image, and the server extracts the image data into RAM, base64 encodes it, and sends it back to the browser. It's a process that is bottlenecked by both CPU and storage speeds, so it's noticeably snappier on the new machine, even if the CPU is over a decade old at this point.

I'm actually considering taking a crack at forking mozilla's pdf.js to work a similar way, sending a page of data at a time, to decrease transfer times and allow lower memory devices to open large PDFs without having to actually download the whole thing. I suspect that means I'm going to have to build smaller single page PDF files on the fly, which would mean coming up with some kind of solution for in document links. I'm still in the phase of deciding if it's enough of a problem to put effort into solving, so I haven't done enough research to know if it will be easy or difficult. It's always hard to tell in situations like this because just about every web reader project assumes downloading the whole file, and the question is do they do it this way because it's hard to sub-divide the format, or do they do it because full clientside logic can be demoed on github pages.

[coruscantiscribbler]

My brain seems to have switched to creative overdrive…or I have gotten extremely inquisitive 🧐

This is a fair warning to my Artists, Authors, and all -around interesting people (because anyone who is not me is interesting) of Tumblr that The Asker’s Studio™️ is in session!

When last we met, I had intended to ask this set of questions, but the fates (and my keyboard) would NOT have it. We jumped tracks and went to Yularen, instead. (Not a bad thing ❤️)

While watching the new Andor series, I could not help but to think of you, and your fic, We Regret.

For those of you unfamiliar with this fabulous, Rebels (say what you will, that show brought us 6 more Thrawn books) based fic, it has all of our favourites: Kallus, Thrawn, Eli, Yularen, Pryce, Andor, and a host of interesting Original Characters.

A brief overview:

Follows Kallus as the very foundations of his life, and his most precious relationships are twisted and poisoned by his continued loyalty to the Empire. He finds it more and more difficult to silence the still small voice that wants him to question, to doubt but to go from blind loyalty to betrayal is a journey that is neither easy nor quick.

As anyone who is familiar with Rebels knows, Kallus eventually defects from the Empire and joins the Rebellion.

While the series did not include the character of Cassian Andor, you have done us all a favour and corrected this wrong. Andor plays his own pivotal role in your fic.

The questions that were pummeling me as I was watching the series were fast and furious, so I will try to keep it to a low roar. However, as I always remind my guests: you have carte blanche to answer, deviate, expand…or go in a completely different direction from my presentation. All I ask is that you talk, and talk a lot.

The first group of queries concerns, Andor, himself.

When you started the series, was there any urge to edit, expand, or depart from how you presented Andor thus far?

Was there anything about the series/character presentation that you would have changed?

The second set of questions involves your fic as a whole

Was there any desire to change how you were going to present the Rebellion & Kallus’s experiences after viewing the series?

Finally, I am curious how set is the arc of We Regret, are you certain of how it ends and the journey in-between here to there (end)?

I ask this last question, because I have always wondered if authors wake up one morning and totally trash the outline, jump rails, and end up in a completely different place!

Once again, it is my honor and pleasure to take up some of your precious time. Thank you, kindly.

I love your Asks, they are always so insightful and force me to (try) and be equally insightful.

I'm going to start with the last question first. No, I never trash the outline and go haring off in a completely different direction. For me the value of outlining or "breaking a story" as is said in Hollywood, is that I have explored all the dead ends, or seemingly attractive paths that only lead you into a swamp well before I actually start writing. And I plot backwards. I know the end of a story or novel or script before I ever start writing. If I know where I'm going it's very easy to figure out the scenes that I need to get there.

I know exactly how I will end this story, several years after the restoration of the Republic, and I will give away this much -- it won't be on Lira San. As I've indicated elsewhere I could never buy the happily-ever-after ending for a man with this much blood on his hands.

Andor has had a profound impact on me, but only in so far as how it bolstered by own views about the Empire. I have always seen the rebellion as having a dark underbelly because you don't overthrow a government without making some ugly compromises with decency and morality, and Andor does not shy away from that. Neither did Rogue One. One of the first moments in which we see with Andor is him coldly killing an informant to keep him from falling into the hands of the Empire.

I'M GOING TO THROW OUT A FEW SPOILER HERE. SO IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ANDOR STOP READING NOW.

The two rebel leaders we see in ANDOR are Mon Mothma and Luthen and they both make some truly ugly decisions in support of the rebellion. Mon Mothma basically sells her teenage daughter to a crime boss so she can keep financing the rebellion. And Luthen in an act of cold calculation doesn't warn a fledgling rebel cell that the Empire is waiting for them because it would compromise his informant inside the ISB. Ugly choices forced on these individuals by the dark times in which they live. Of course the crimes and brutality of the Empire are far worse than the morally grey choices made by the rebels, but none of these people are saints.

I'm going to try to keep that balancing of the light and dark now that Kallus is in the rebellion. Draven is a hard man. He expects his agents to be hard as well, to know they must bury their morals because everyone on all sides thinks they are fighting for the greater good.

YOU CAN START READING AGAIN.

I knew before I ever started typing that it would be Andor who recruits Kallus into becoming a Fulcrum agent. But I didn't want it to be a straight line from crashing with Zeb on the ice moon, asking a few questions and then ringing up the rebellion to ask if he could help. A man as dedicated and loyal as Kallus wasn't just going to throw aside his life and beliefs that easily, so I took him to rock bottom, and had it be a single, simple event, the death of a single young pilot trainee, that was finally too much. The proverbial pebble that starts the avalanche.

I wouldn't change a thing about Andor. I think Gilroy did an absolutely stunning job with the character's development. We first see him as a small time crook, a man with no direction and no purpose. A string of petty crimes, mooching off his friends, sleeping with a variety of woman, committed to nothing. Then slowly, slowly he starts to discover outrage and finally his purpose. It's how I wanted to move Kallus from loyal Imperial officer to rebel spy.

The other point where I found support from Andor was the presentation of family. Throughout the movies the rebels all seemed to have either real or found families, but the Imperials were presented as just two dimensional bad guys. And the treatment of the stormtroopers always offended me. Who were these men and women in the white armor? Wouldn't they have had mother's fathers, siblings, wives, husbands and children? Someone would mourn their passing.

Andor showed us people on both sides of this conflict with families. There is the commandant of the garrison on Aldhani with his wife and teenage son. There is the lieutenant who turns traitor because of a woman. There is Syril and his domineering mother. Mon Mothma has a husband and a sulky teenage daughter. There is the ISB informant who wants out because of his new born child. And of course there is Maarva who saved and raised a child, and whether Cassian knew it or not instilled in him a thirst for justice.

[animehouse-moe]

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Volume 7 - Trying Too Hard

So yes, I still enjoyed the 7th volume of Frieren a good deal, there's still good parts to it, there's still fun little moments. But, it doesn't change my realization. With this seventh volume, and the break between it and its predecessor, I started to pick up the pieces. I really enjoy Frieren when it's insignificant. I really love when it tells stories in the present that will be lost to the sands of time, when the group stops off to help with some really trivial, really insignificant thing. What I don't like, is the sense of grandeur and scale that they try to impart on certain pieces, especially the past. I wasn't a huge fan of the first class mage exam, but it certainly had its parts. However, the pieces I found most compelling, had almost nothing to do with the actual combat or significance of the moment.

Anyways, to get to the point, the weight of the past, and how much it is visibly shifting and changing the perception of stuff rubs me the wrong way. If the past is really so important as to interject with it every other page, and recount the stories of the same people over and over, is it not then better to just tell those stories?

For reference, in a single volume, Himmel the Hero is featured in longer flashbacks on 6 separate occasions, and that is not counting other flashbacks that are focused on other members of the party specifically such as Heiter or Eisen.

It's because of this, that I've come to be really disinterested in the past. It's not some mystery, it's not even a memory, it's something entirely tangible due to how much it's referenced in the series. The wonder and reason for Frieren's journey feels like it's worn thin in the face of it all. It's not her fondly remembering certain pieces, it's Frieren giving the reader exposition. Very few of these flashbacks are actually suited to be flashbacks. So many of them are better sold coming from the mouths of the characters themselves than to be rehashed visually. It feels low effort, like they didn't know how to handle reminiscing without something to fill the space.

And there ends my rant on the volume. Overall, there's still quite a bit to enjoy, as it continues down the same path as prior volumes. There's the constant reminder of the marching of time, the endless queries and curiosities that Frieren has in her pursuit of odd magic, and the consistently enjoyable dynamic that Frieren, Fern, and Stark share. It's not like the work of the previous volumes evaporates in the face of the realization of the irksome featuring of the past, just that it can get in the way of Frieren being better.

At the end of the day, I still think Frieren is worth reading, though it might not be massively appealing to as many readers as the early volumes make it out to be, and it certainly loses its value as the story continues to reference and remind readers (especially in the visual sense) of the fact that Himmel and the Hero's Party existed. It's far more suited to be a fun slice of life story that has its moments, than for it to try and be some incredibly weighty and impactful story that sees its characters mostly just living life in the present.