#this was supposed to be posted yesterday but I binged Fire Force all day yesterday instead sorry 😭

[theepisceswriter]

HOW/WHEN THEY LIKE TO FINGER YOU (Eren, Jean, Connie, Porco, Armin)

Synopsis: The usual setting AOT men like to finger you in and their styles of fingering, if that makes sense

TW: Mature things obviously, typos because I didn’t edit, fem!reader, semi-public sex for Connie, 18+, MINORS DNI or I’ll have Zeke turn you into a Titan

EREN (in between sex, during his cool down to keep you stimulated)

In between sessions during sex when Eren needs time to recuperate and realistically get erect again, he’s quick to make use of this time by pleasuring you instead of just sitting there boringly and usually he opts for his fingers to do just the job.

You know it’s time to move from his cock to his fingers when he’s laying there with a thin sheet of sweat glistening his skin and long strands of hair stuck to his forehead while he’s trying to catch his breath from the mind blowing orgasm you just gave him. He lays there for a minute to catch his breath before he’s swooping his arms underneath you and pressing your body against his and moving your legs open with his knee to expose your cunt to him that’s still glistening with his cum.

Uses his cum as an extra lubricant when he slips his fingers into you at a painstakingly slow rate just to tease you until his fingertips are brushing against your cervix because they’re that long and he knows exactly what angle to go in at to get them to go that deep.

He keeps you pressed up tight against his body so he can feel every squirm and moan that vibrates through your body with each thrusts of his fingers; opting for slow long strokes so you can feel every inch of them inside of you.

“What an impatient slut, I can feel your insides trying to suck me in more. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more needy tonight.” Such a meanie, but you could care less when every word that’s being spoken is against the sensitive skin of your nipples. The vibration of Eren’s words and temperature of his tongue sending shivers up your spine and wetness dripping down the knuckles of his fingers.

Your body is so sensitive and responsive to him that three more pumps of his fingers would’ve sent your insides warming up with the arrival of your orgasm, but the clenching of your walls around his fingers has him removing them out of you and replacing them with his now erect cock without warning. Ramming into you to make up for the orgasm he most likely just ruined for you.

“I want you creaming all over my cock tonight, not my fingers.” And trust me, you end up doing just that.

CONNIE (in the car)

Connie’s sex drive is a wild one simply for the fact that it hits him at the most random times without him even knowing. It’s not his fault that you’re just so sexy that you make any mundane task look appeasing and makes him get in the mood easily. Everything about you as a person just turns him on and gives him love boners.

It’s not uncommon for him to get horny in the middle of nowhere like while the two of you are driving home and pull into a nearly empty parking lot just so he can touch and caress your whole body.

He’ll pull you on to his lap in the driver’s seat and position you so your ass is directly on his lap, but your legs are laid out against the steering wheel and middle compartment so you can be comfortable. And yes, he leaves the aux cord plugged in so you two can have background music because he’s extra like that.

He doesn’t bother warming you up or paying attention to any of your other body parts before he’s diving into the main course head on; moving your panties and pants to the side and wetting his fingers with his mouth before rubbing them against your clit and plunging them into you.

His pace is fast and ruthless right off the bat to hear those sweet moans that are music to his ears leave your lips since he can’t watch your face contort with expressions of pleasure because he’s so focused on your glistening pussy and making you feel good. Only glancing over at you every now and then with a teasing smirk on his lips to mock your moans and tease you with phrases like, “Does that feel good baby girl? You like having my fingers knuckle deep in your pussy out in public where anyone can see like the slut you are don’t you?”

Of course his windows are tinted specifically for moments like this, but still he teases you with the threat of anybody who’s walking by being able to tell what the two of you are doing because he’s a menace to society like that and can tell the thought of being caught or somebody possibly knowing is making you wetter and wetter.

He’s not stopping at one orgasm either, fingers still moving as fast and rough as they were when he began to coax you through all your orgasms. It’s not until your shorts and his pants are soaking wet from your orgasm that he finally, although reluctantly, pulls his fingers from your cunt with satisfaction.

But that’s not it! With a gentle tap to your ass he’s directing you to the backseat of his car because now he’s built up quite the erection while pleasing you and needs his release too.

JEAN (as a form of foreplay)

Jean is very big on foreplay and warming you up because he has to get you ready for that schlong that’s in his pants, he can’t just go in with no prep!

Just the sight of him right before sex knowing what’s about to come is enough to get you dripping with arousal, but he still likes to go that extra mile to make sure you’re stretched out all nice and good for him so it won’t hurt too much when he’s fucking you ruthlessly into the mattress later on.

He likes to have you in between his legs with your back pressed against his chest so he can have access to every single part of your body with just a simple reach of his hands because they tend to roam around your body a lot.

Matter of fact that’s how he prefers to start off, hands roaming your body and groping sensitive area of your body like your breasts, the inside of your thighs, and ever you neck just to edge you on and grow your anticipation for his fingers.

Your first orgasm from his fingers comes from him toying with your clit once he finally decides to give you his fingers because he’s big on clitoral stimulation for you. Even during the act of penetration his fingers will often travel down to your clit and bring you closer to your orgasm that way. In this case, it’s just him being greedy with wanting to please you and using the slick that’s accumulated between your folds to pleasure your clit before he makes you cum by using his fingers.

Not only have you been basically conditioned to cumming on his fingers so many times to the point where it feels natural, but his fingers are so long and slender like everything else on him that they hit all the right spots and would have you cumming in minutes no matter if you were conditioned to do so or not.

He’s so sensual with his fingers to balance out the roughness that’s going to come later on down the road. His fingers move inside of you so soft like silk put at the right pace that has you close to squirting all over his fingers while he’s knuckle deep inside of you doing a sort of beckoning motion. His thumb will still be moving in sloppy circles against your already sensitive clit from orgasming earlier and if that wasn’t enough, with his free hand he gropes your breasts and toys with your nipples by pinching them softly with his fingers.

And of course he can’t resist kissing your exposed neck. Warm hot tongue dragging against the sensitive spots on your neck and grazing over them with his teeth to leave spots of irritation that’ll be visible to him for the rest of the night.

The languid movements of his fingers mixed with the kissing of your neck, pinching of your sensitive nipples, and stimulation of your clit has you squirting all over your thighs and his fingers in mere minutes while Jean kisses assuring and praising “Good girl”s into your neck right below your ear.

Now you’re definitely ready for his cock.

PORCO (while giving him a blowjob)

Blowjobs make Porco go absolutely weak in the knees. They really bring out the subby whiny side of him and has him like putty underneath you, whines and curses leaving his lips every few seconds and his eyes closed tight with pleasure.

But even then he still has your pleasure in the back of his mind and feels selfish when you’re the only one pleasing him.

He prefers for you to give him blowjobs on the bed or couch or anywhere that’s comfortable for you to be on your knees with your back arched because best believe he’s going to force you into a deep arch so he can have easy access to your cunt to toy with it while you’re sucking the life out of him.

Though his senses are in an override the closer he gets to his orgasm, he makes it a mission to make you feel as good as he can in that window between him cumming, so he doesn’t think twice before he’s reaching over and plunging his fingers into you from behind.

Because he’s trying to get you as close to an orgasm as he is he starts off at a fast pace that practically has his fingers jackhammering into you and rubbing against that extra sensitive wall inside of you that he has memorized from sessions before. He’s not rough, just fast with his movements, and the moans that you let out around his cock only adds to his pleasure and encourages him to pick up his pace, if possible.

Nothing but praises broken by moans leaves his lips during this time. Going on and on about how good you are to him and how he won’t stop until he has your pretty pussy gushing around his fingers. And like the gentleman he is he does exactly that, adding his thumb in the mix to rub harshly against your clit so he can have you gushing around his fingers as promised. The two of you orgasming in unity and riding each other through your orgasms.

Sometimes, he likes to be extra and have you be in the 69 position so he can really focus on fingering you while you suck him off. And if he’s feeling really generous that day he’ll even eat you out and leave soft kisses against your clit while he fingers you.

ARMIN (while eating you out)

Armin deep down inside is truly a pleaser. He can get into his dom zone when he wants to but even then he’s a service dom always aiming to please you and making sure you get the most out of each sex session. You and your pleasure always come before his.

It’s mandatory for him that he eats you out as a form of foreplay whenever he can to drag out the amount of time you spend withering underneath him. His tongue is godly, always poking and prodding the right places and wrapping his tongue around your poor sensitive clit in a way that no one who doesn’t know what they’re doing wouldn’t be able to do.

He likes his face to be ruined and flushed with your juices, pure blue eyes staying on yours the whole time in a gaze that alone could have you cumming all over his lips like he wants. But of course, Armin has to go that extra mile and add his fingers into the mix so he can focus his tongue on your clit while his fingers work their magic inside of you.

Because he’s already pleasuring you with his mouth he doesn’t have to do much with his fingers, so he opts for a simple in and out motion at a normal pace because his tongue makes up for everything else.

Also, Armin is heavy on overstimulation (both giving and receiving) and it’s not as fun of a thing to do if he’s going overboard and giving you an orgasm every 10 minutes. He likes to draw them out and even deny you of them sometimes until you’re begging him for something you were just begging him to stop doing and that experience is only possible with the slow pace he’s set up.

So be prepared for a long night of whining, teasing, and orgasms until Armin has finally had enough and decides to fuck you silly into subspace.

[holbyconfessional]

Holby City S21 E31 -  Things My Mother Told Me (and other tales)

Oh my.  It’s been quite some time since I last posted my thoughts on an episode.  This has mostly been due to some Holby City storylines that I found a little tough to swallow, and the fall out kind of impacted on Casualty too.  But, I have still been watching (although sometimes saving several episodes and binging together rather than watching as they aired).  The question is - do I restart these musings of mine?  Or lay it all to rest?

Whatever happens, I feel compelled to jot a few thoughts from tonight.

Firstly, I don’t care what they’re telling me, Bernie Wolfe is NOT dead, until I see a body (or at least until some cast member does!).  Currently, in my head canon, she was held at gunpoint by some enemy insurgents, forced to remove her body armour before being marched off at gunpoint to a secret base, where she is now being kept as a POW, until such time as Serena leaves HC.  At this point, she will make her miraculous escape and return just in time to head off into the sunset.  NOTHING you can say will make me believe differently.  Just saying.

All the above makes Alex’s statement tonight that she was the love of Bernie’s life to be particularly galling.  I have seen various folk saying Alex can’t be trusted and she’s lying, etc.  FWIW, I think she’s telling the truth as she’s choosing to see it.  I can understand why she and Bernie might have ended up together.  As much as we all feel we know Bernie and Serena better than anyone, at the end of the day they are characters owned and created by the HC writing team, and if they think Bernie would never have been able to settle down and live a suburban life with Serena, as much as it galls, we have to accept that that is their vision.  And frankly, even if Serena was the one great love of Bernie’s life - we don’t all get our happily ever after, many of us do  have ‘one that got away’, and we do have to settle for good enough.  And to my mind, Alex would be the perfect partner for a non-tameable Bernie.   (Before anyone yells at me, my Bernie is totes happy sitting round the fire with Serena every day til she’s 95...)  I’m just saying I get that she’s not ours.  She’s theirs, to do with as they will.

Also, massive, proud LGBT Berena fan that I am - I also respect that essentially, Berena have NOT been treated differently to any other couple in the show.  Folk seem to think that lack of representation in general media means that they should be seen to be living happily every day.  Doesn’t work like that.  That’s not true representation, that’s singling out a LGBT relationship for special treatment.  I think that Berena have been handled the same way every. single. other. couple in the show have too.  And that’s true respect.  (Though I STILL totally hate it, and wish they could indeed have been shown to be happy every single day forever).  But realism just won’t abandon me.

Final word on Berena, I really actually want to like Alex.   But goodness me, was her character skeezy the last couple of episodes.  Her handling of Cameron showed the total opposite of respect to Bernie’s memory, and the final scene with her and Serena - <shudder>.  For a moment, I actually thought she was going in for the kill...

Next, I will move on to the intial reason I stopped reviewing - Dom.  Please understand, I appreciate adoption is a very emotive subject, and furthermore, I totally agree that Carole should have told Dom from an early age about his adoption.  BUT - I have not been able to stomach the way he has been treating her since he found out.  She may not have given birth to him, but she’s wiped his bum, soothed him when sick, taught him to ride a bike... apart from actually growing him, she is more his mother than anyone else could ever be, and I couldn’t stand the way he was treating her.  I know he’s a huge fan favourite, and I don’t hate him, but I do see him as I always have (and now more than ever), as the most self absorbed, spoilt little brat ever.  He really does think the world should revolve around him, as he’s repeatedly shown in his relationship with Lofty, and continues to show with his interactions with Carole and now Ange.  Therefore, I applaud tonight for finally, first Hanssen, and then Ange, opening his eyes to how unreasonable he was being toward Carole.

Briefly on to my reason for not starting to review again after Dom stopped me (!!!).  Evan.  I literally struggle to watch scenes with Evan in them.   He has made my skin crawl from the moment he appeared in show, and I’ve considered stopping Holby all together until he’s gone... (hasn’t happened yet, though).  I know his abuse is reasonably hot on the heels of Isaac’s, but whilst I hate and in no way condone what Isaac did, for some reason I’m finding Evan’s manipulations so much more insidious and frankly scary.  I know we have a long run to go yet before Chloe is out of his clutches, but by goodness, I hope it goes quick. Side note - I also know Ange doesn’t seem to be a popular character.  But I can’t for the life of me work out why.  She is an AWESOME mother - to Chloe.  She might not be prioritising Dom, but whilst he’s her flesh and blood, he’s barely more than a stranger, so to my mind, it’s totally reasonable.  Especially since she IS there for Dom.  Just not ahead of Chloe.  She’s also an awesome doc.  Imagine being an NHS patient faced with waiting lists?  Wouldn’t you want an Ange doing some overtime with volunteer staff so you could be helped quicker??!!

Brief mention to Cameron (and Nicky).  Poor, poor Cam.  I hope this storyline ends well for him.  His treatment of Nicky is pretty shoddy after their one night stand, but heck, girl, did you expect different?  You know what state he was in, you know how he feels about Chloe.  I hope they don’t make Nicky into too much of a victim over it, because she’s not stupid and it’s not a shocker when he’s drowning that deep in grief...

Finally, Ric.  Is this the big mistake that’s going to kick off a big storyline?  And whether it is or not, seems like only yesterday that Ric was jailed over some supposed mistake which had some secret reason behind it,  PLEASE don’t be going down the same route again.  That’s just tired.  Give Ric something interesting to work with that doesn’t involve malpractice.  Please!!!!!

[onwardintolight]

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

Soundtrack

~~~

Warnings for Chapter 10: none

~~~

In dreams, she remembered all over again. Cruel needles probing and cold liquid rushing through her veins, sickening, turning every sense to ice and fire. Her back against a wall, cornered by the interrogation droid and the towering, half-human monster; the horrible rasp of his breath and the explosion of pain as he clawed at her mind. And later: the scent of ozone and the hard, mechanical grip on her shoulder as she stood there, drugged and shivering in her thin, white senatorial gown. Watching the sickly green bolt of light trace its inevitable path; desperate to be able to reach out and stop it, to take it into herself, for her to be the one to burn instead. Her home igniting into an inferno, its brightness scorching her corneas, the tidal wave of agony coming off of it scouring away what was left of her softness and hope.

A hand, warm and gentle, on her shoulder, and her name, as if from far away.

“Leia.”

The voice came out of the distance, from somewhere beyond the roar of the flames, breaking through her screams of agony.

“Leia, it’s all right. It’s Han. I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

She opened her eyes, and the searing, blinding light died, replaced by the dim cabin and Han’s anxious face, coming into focus as it hovered above her. Seeing that she was awake, he stopped shaking her, his hand reaching up to cup her forehead and brush a strand of damp hair out of her face. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he repeated. Leia felt her screams turn to sobs, and she half-turned her head into her pillow, trying to stem the flood. The mattress on the bunk shifted as Han climbed in, nestling in close behind her. “It’s okay, Leia. I’m here.”

She tried to stifle her cries, but she kept breaking anyway. It was all too much. It was enough to have lived through it once—why did it have to pierce her over and over again in her dreams, making her experience it like new every time? No matter what she did, she could never escape. And she could never stop the advance of that sickly green light from the Death Star, nor divert its course. A part of her still hadn’t learned that, though. The part of her that still hoped was crushed every time.

Her sobs spilled out, muffled by her pillow. Somewhere, from beyond the raging grief, she felt herself scoff at this display, at this particularly flagrant lapse of composure. She didn’t want Han to see her this way, not again. And yet somehow it felt good to have Han behind her, holding her, stroking her hair, his warm breath on her neck as he whispered comfort. On an impulse, she turned to face him, burying her head in his chest as he pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Leia,” he murmured, cradling her head. “You can cry all you need to.”

As if the words were a permission she didn’t know she needed, she felt herself weeping even harder. But there was a trickle of relief let loose with it now, too. She felt less confined, less backed into a corner, even as Han’s arms engulfed her—and less sick from the effort of keeping it that way.

Slowly the inconsolable anguish subsided, along with the choking sobs.

In their place was a deadness.

All the nightmares she’d ever had mingled with reality in times like this. She knew she had not been tortured today, yet her veins still ached from where she had been pricked three years before. Alderaan’s blast had not happened today, yet the agony of her people still echoed loud in her bones. She hadn’t died with her planet, nor had they been incinerated by a star in their earlier, surreal escapade to save Threepio, yet she already felt gone—a ghost, maybe. Unsubstantial, unreal. Ash that might crumble in a slight wind.

Would she be stuck in this limbo indefinitely, suspended in these horrors? Could she ever escape and become, be real enough to overcome? Or was she already dead, already faded away?

Han’s heart beat against her temple, his warmth radiated into her from all sides, his embrace both tender and firm. He… he was real. She breathed in pace with him, measuring the rise and fall of his chest.

He was real.

And if he was holding her like this, then maybe she was too.

Her tears had soaked the skin on his chest, making it uncomfortably slick, but even as her eyes dried and her breaths grew less and less ragged, she clung to him, unwilling to relinquish his reassuring solidness.

“Stay here, Han,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Ssshh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Their breaths grew long, and his fingers slowed on her back.

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

Leia awoke gradually, surrounded by a sense of warmth and security and peace. As her eyes fluttered open and she slowly became more aware, she remembered why. Nestled behind her was the long, firm form of Han Solo. His legs were folded behind her own, and an arm cradled her waist. She sleepily wondered at her lack of alarm. Once, she would have started awake in shock and sought to put as much distance between them as possible—in fact, that’s exactly what had happened on a past mission or two (accidents, she’d told herself at the time). Now, a sense of peace endured. There was nothing to worry about. This… this felt so right, so safe, having him here in bed with her.

In bed with her. She felt a thrill at the idea of those words, that reality.

Okay, so maybe she was a little excited. We haven’t got time for anything else, Han’s words echoed from earlier that week, and she grinned at the memory of what had thrown her so thoroughly off her guard at the time.

And why shouldn’t she feel this way? She was done denying the force of her attraction to Han—and this was more than just attraction. The strength of what had grown between them over the past few years was something she’d never felt before, not even in her younger days with Kier. She would no longer pretend that every blasted thing he did didn’t make her crazy. She would no longer deny that if she had her way, they’d spend the rest of their lives, however short, together. She would no longer deny that many mornings over the past three years, she’d awakened as she’d done now and imagined him lying there beside her, imagined this feeling, imagined him….

She closed her eyes again, trying to memorize the sensation of Han pressed up against her, committing it to memory. This, she told herself. Keep this. Keep this forever.

Maybe, once he woke… maybe he would pull her even closer, and she’d turn to him, and he’d kiss her the way he had kissed her in the circuitry bay, and he’d not stop there, but…

She blinked, slamming the door down on the thought.

No.

She may not be denying what was between them anymore, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump all the way in. He was still planning on leaving, wasn’t he?

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of his arms and out of the bunk.

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

Leia waited calmly at the dejarik table as the caf dispenser gurgled, the scent, at once soothing and invigorating, filling the air. She felt significantly more awake, and, she hoped, significantly more in control of her desires.

Still, she had to fight not to think too much about how utterly nice it had been, waking up with Han like that.

As she considered the night’s events that had led them there, she felt rather more sober. She played absentmindedly with her hands, glaring at them in annoyance as if they were somehow the source from which her nightmares had sprung. Yesterday’s near disaster must have triggered the remembrance of a worse one, she supposed. Why wasn’t her mind content to just not think about it? The Force knew she tried so hard not to during the day. Even after three years, it was still too much.

I guess there’s your answer, she told herself. You still can’t deal with it; you probably never will. Not fully.

The caf dispenser beeped, and she got up to fill her mug.

Still… she thought, it’s different, now, with Han. Maybe the nightmares would never really go away, but something, at least, had changed. She no longer felt like she had to face them alone. Han had shown her he’d be there, even if she woke him up in the middle of the night screaming. Moreover, it seemed that he continued to truly see her and not be daunted, and that was both humbling and freeing.

Can I do the same for him? she wondered as she sat back down, sipping her caf.

She wanted to. Han, as much or even more so than her, had always been resistant to anyone getting too close, seeing too much. She’d long suspected he hid a lot of hurt underneath that barricade, some of which she knew about after their years working together, but some of which yet remained an enigma.

She knew that he’d grown up a so-called “scrumrat” on the streets of Corellia, begging and thieving to survive. She knew there was a criminal overlord of sorts, someone who exercised control over him—which, she figured, explained his aversion to being “under” anyone now. And strangely enough, she knew—via General Draven, who’d naturally done some investigating, and through a few brief conversations with Han himself—that he had once been in the Imperial Navy and Infantry. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that. Picturing him in uniform felt absurd.

She’d been loath to ask him more about any of those facts, assuming that they were memories he’d prefer to leave far in the past. There seemed to be a lot of those, with Han. She wondered what pain he was hiding.

She took another long, slow sip of her caf, considering.

Han kept up his own barriers, that was for sure. The two of them weren’t all that different in that way. But he had been taking an axe to hers as of late, and it felt… good.

Maybe there was an upside to being trapped on board the Falcon for this long. Maybe she could finally begin to crumble Han’s walls, too.

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

Leia’s understanding of Shyriiwook was rapidly improving. It was remarkable, but not altogether surprising, how much easier it was to learn from a native speaker and friend as opposed to a stuffy Alderaanian tutor droid. It had only been a little over a week, but she and Chewie were already having full-fledged conversations, pausing every so often to ask Threepio or Han for help translating. It was a delightful diversion from the long hours of their slow crawl to Bespin, and Leia treasured the new level of friendship that had sprung up between the two of them.

Today, they were sitting at the dejarik table. Chewie was sprawled out comfortably with his hands tucked behind his head, and Leia had nestled against the cushions with her legs curled up cozily beneath the spare blanket. They had just finished going over the subjunctive, which was conveyed by an extra little modulating gargle in the middle of the verb. They were now taking turns throwing out phrase after subjunctive-containing phrase, each translating the other’s into their own language.

«It is necessary that Han clean the ‘fresher next,» announced Chewie gleefully.

Leia repeated it dutifully in Basic before responding. “It is necessary that you clean the hair out of the shower filter.”

«If that is so, let us hope that your hair contribution is small.»

Leia chuckled. “I highly doubt there’s as much as yours! Either way, I pity Han if the task falls on him.”

«Speaking of Cub, I hope his smell improves.»

Leia swatted at him good-naturedly. “Han smells just fine!” she exclaimed, breaking the chain of subjunctives. To tell the truth, she found his scent appealing—regardless of whether he used some of that ancient Chandrilan cologne, which he only pulled out on special occasions (or when some unhappy mission’s reek demanded it).

«He does to you! You’re a human female!» Chewie said, rolling his eyes.

She laughed. “I’ll give you that one.”

He stopped for a moment, regarding her, then he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. «It makes me happy that you’re laughing, Little Princess. I hope things continue to get better for you.»

Unexpectedly touched, Leia found herself focusing on the seat between them, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks, Chewie,” she finally said, glancing back up and giving him a small smile.

Looking into her eyes, he nodded, patted her one more time on the shoulder, and then leaned back, continuing the subjunctive train. «We hope to arrive on Bespin next week.»

“I hope there are no more escape pod incidents beforehand.”

«Very true, Little Princess. It is necessary that we fly smooth and fast, with no more runaway droids.”

Leia paused. “I hope Luke made it back to the fleet all right.”

«I doubt that cub would falter.»

“I wish we knew for sure.”

«I bet he wishes he knew about us, too.»

Leia sighed, nodding. “He can probably sense us through the Force, though. He’s practically a Jedi. Hopefully if he’s there he can tell everyone we’re all right.” It was a reassuring thought. Maybe he’d get word back to Mon, to Rieekan, to all those who would be worrying about her. Come to think of it, she was fairly certain Luke was all right, too, though she didn’t voice it. It was only a feeling, and therefore unreliable.

She considered for a moment and began again. “It is necessary that the Alliance wins and brings peace and justice to the galaxy.”

Chewie nodded solemnly, leaning forward. «It is necessary that all beings are set free.»

Leia felt something twinge in her heart. “I hope we can see your people freed someday, Chewie.”

He reached over and tousled her hair. «If we free my people, I suggest that you come visit Kashyyyk. You will have a grand welcome.»

“I would love to come to Kashyyyk and meet your family.” She had heard about his family from Han—apparently he had a wife and son who were still, as far as they knew, enslaved by the Empire—but now that she could finally understand the Wookiee himself, she was eager to hear about them from his own lips. The lesson seemed to be over anyway. “Tell me about them, Chewie. What are they like? If you feel like talking about it…?”

Chewie let out an affirming growl. «I am happy to talk about my family. It is hard being far from them, knowing they are suffering. Sometimes I think we will never be together and free, and the loss is so—» (here he spoke some word Leia didn’t recognize.) «But I speak their names and remember them. I do not forget. I will remember them and return.»

He bowed his head briefly, then continued. «Mallatobuck is my wife. She is as bright and warm as sunlight, and very smart. I miss her clever teasing. She has sass like you, Little Princess. And she is very beautiful. Her eyes are as deep as the bottom of the forest, and her fur is eaghraaghla—ah, you do not understand that word. It means smooth and soft and full. Her scent is like the rryylghra fruit. Her intelligence and beauty are well-known in my tribe.» He paused, lost in thought, eyes far off, as if picturing the exquisiteness of that silky mane.

«My son is Lumpawaroo.» He faltered for a moment, shoulders slumping, then went on. «He was taken from me when he was still very young, so I do not know him as I should. I will always remember his scent, though, and I will know it should we meet again.»

He was quiet again for a little while, his head bowed, his great furry arms resting heavily on the table. Leia reached out a hand and laid it gently on one of them.

«There are others I love and miss,» he continued. «My father, Attichitcuk. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. My mother is dead. I miss my tribe, my village. They have all been scattered, put in Imperial slave camps. Fallen leaves cannot be put back on the branches. A wroshyr tree will not hold all of us together again.» He glanced at Leia. «You understand this loss, Little Princess, more than anyone.»

Leia nodded, unable to speak. The grief woven through his words hung heavy on her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she finally whispered.

He turned to her. «Will you tell me about Alderaan? Your tribe?» His eyes shone gentle; entreating, not demanding. She knew he would not take offense if she said no.

She swallowed. Then, to her surprise, she found that words were flowing freely out of her mouth. She described her mother, regal yet so human, gentle yet so fierce, with a wisdom and astuteness that not only served Alderaan well but helped Leia find her way through life, too. Her father, with his patient persistence and quiet rebellion in the face of the Empire; with his delight in books and in dancing and in her, and the way he’d taught her how to delight in things, too, both big and small. (She wondered if she’d ever really regain that ability, or if it had been lost along with him.)

She talked about her aunts, and the happy memories of their visits—well, mostly happy; she loved them dearly, but she still bristled at their attempts to tame her into something she wasn’t. She described her favorites among the household servants and the members of the guard, and she told him about her personal attendant droid, TooVee, who had done so much to care for her despite being even more pompous than Threepio. She missed them all. Her voice broke.

She stopped speaking, and they sat together in silence.

It was not a lonely silence, though. It was, Leia thought, as if there were invisible cords connecting them, a bridge fashioned out of grief and understanding. The ache inside felt as impossibly large as ever, but… perhaps ever-so-slightly less heavy, as it hung there in the space between them.

Chewie put his paw over her hand and spoke, gazing at her intently. «You, Cub, young Jedi, me—we are like wroshyr trees with melded limbs. We are joined, we have each other; we are a tribe now. We face no loss alone.»

Tears came to her eyes, and she smiled at him, nodding.

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

“Say, Han, Chewie,” Leia asked at lunch, between bites of reconstituted Iridonian trophlet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you two, what’s in those shipping crates in the forward hold? They permanently welded to the floor or something?”

“Hmh?” said Han, his face full. He swallowed. “Oh, those. ’S mostly Chewie’s stuff. He gets attached to things and keeps ‘em around. Dunno why.”

Damn it, thought Leia. So much for her bet that those crates she liked to take refuge behind held the keys to Han’s past.

Chewie gave his version of a chuckle, with a little shake of his mane towards Han. «I keep things that are meaningful to me. Cub understands. He just pretends he doesn’t so he looks cool.»

Leia chuckled as Han sent Chewie a withering glare. “Shut it, furball,” he replied, lofting a pointer finger at the Wookiee. He turned to Leia. “Eh, I understand, I guess, but I ain’t that interested in keeping stuff like that around for myself. The way I look at it, things only mean something if they’re connected to people. And people come and go. Most of ‘em ‘ll end up betraying you.” He shrugged. “No use trying to hold onto something that’s a reminder of what’s gone wrong.”

“So you expect me to believe you haven’t kept anything nostalgic?” Leia asked wryly. “What about that golden pair of dice hanging in the cockpit?”

Han waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s different. It’s my good luck charm. Had it since I was a kid. It’s been with me through everything.”

Chewie rolled his eyes. «And that has no meaning?» He leaned toward Leia conspiratorially. «Cub has some things in the crates, too.»

Leia raised her eyebrows at Han.

The smuggler set down his spoon and lifted his hands in mock defeat. “If you must know, I’ve kept some old uniforms, just in case. A few disguises are always good to have around, especially when you don’t have a Rebellion to provide you with ‘em. But they ain’t there because of some half-assed notion of ‘meaning,’ I’ll tell you that.”

Leia gave Han a look, then turned back to Chewie, frustrated. If Han was going to be obstinate, she could at least learn more about the Wookiee. “So what do you have back there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Chewbacca shrugged. «Little things, mostly. On my world, if there’s an experience we want to remember, we keep something to remember it by. Perhaps we find a smooth stone, or buy a fine carraughrr—»

“That’s some sort of Wookiee art mumbo-jumbo,” Han cut in.

«—then we put it in a safe place, so we can always look back at it and remember.»

Leia nodded. “That’s a really good tradition.”

“Gah.” Han waved his hand in dismissal again, then got up, his ration pack finished. “I’m gonna get to work on those sensors. Enjoy your nostalgia party.”

Leia and Chewie shared a look, and she sighed, shaking her head. She had obviously touched a nerve, but that had only served to make him even more reticent. Her mission had failed.

Perhaps a different tactic was needed.

[katieskarlette]

Warcraft Chronicle Vol. II - An Illustrated Reaction Post

 I had the day off from work yesterday, so I binge-read the second volume of the World of Warcraft Chronicle.  Another very enjoyable read, and a must for any self-respecting lore geek. 

 [General comments follow.  Spoilers will be below the Read More.]

I reallllllllly wish this had come out prior to, or concurrent with, Warlords of Draenor.  Almost all my issues with “This is only happening in an AU so why do we care?” and “Did any of this happen in our universe?” would have been taken care of.

There’s a wealth of lore on the breakers vs. primals, the gronn, ogron, ogres, orcs, botani, and arrakoa.  Everything makes so much more sense now!   WoD would still have been plagued by the same gameplay issues (*coughcoughgarrisonscoughcough*) but the story would have grabbed me more.  I mean, yes, a good deal of the Draenor lore in Chronicle II (maybe even the majority of it) was in-game, but to have it all in one place, to see how the parts all relate to each other, to have it told as a cohesive story, and to know that it occurred in our universe and not just an AU, made all the difference in the world.

My only complaint about the book was the lack of references to any of Deathwing’s children.  We did find out some more about what he was up to between the War of the Ancients and Day of the Dragon, but there was no mention at all of Sabellian, Nefarian, Onyxia, or any others.

[I’m going to make a separate post about the Deathwing parts of Chronicle II, since this one got really long.]

The primordial lore of Draenor, with creatures of stone or plant life that towered higher than mountains and caused the world to shake with every step, was awe-inspiring, terrifying, and epic.

Er...take my word for it.  It was awesome.  *ahem*

Grond, the rock giant created by the Titan Aggramar to fight the Evergrowth, broke down into a series of lesser beings as time went by, each kind smaller but smarter than the last.  Thus were created most of Draenor’s sentient creatures (minus arrakoa, saberon, botani, and sporeggar).

I know Blizzard is trying to sand off the rough edges of the lore and make things fit more seamlessly, and in the vast majority of cases I think the Chronicles book do that well.  At first I thought orcs being descended from ogres was an exception, but then I really looked at the pictures and realized...yeah, it works.  Orcs and ogres share the same jaw structure, at least.  (I’m still not sure how one eye turned into two, though, and the number of toes increased a lot in the last two iterations.  Also, it appears bad posture skipped ogres and popped up again in orcs...)  ;)

(All images in the above graphic are from Wowpedia.  And of course I used Varok Saurfang as the quintessential orc because he’s freaking Saurfang.  ‘Nuff said.)

I wonder if dwarves know that orcs are technically descended from rocks, too...  It also means that ogres and orcs have Titan origins, albeit not as directly as vrykul, mogu, gnomes, dwarves, etc.

Goria, the capital of the ancient ogre empire, was destroyed by orc shaman, working with the elements of Draenor to avenge the desecration of the Throne of Elements.  (The ogres had barged in and tried to take the power of the elements with brute force, which...didn’t go well.)  The city was buried by the forces of earth, and none of the races of Draenor wanted anything to do with the site afterward...until the draenei crashed and were like, “Hey!  This looks like a great place for a city!”  Thus Shattrath was founded.

Meanwhile, I imagine the orcs, ogres, arrakoa, etc. were peeking over a hill nearby going, “WTF are those new guys doing? Everybody knows better than to build there!”  It’s like building a subdivision on top of a cursed native burial ground.

As it turns out, none of Shattrath’s problems had anything to do with unhappy ogre spirits, but the bad karma didn’t do the city any favors, either.

In WoD, Alliance players drink an elixir to witness a vision of the Iron Horde using the Dark Star to conquer Karabor despite Velen’s best efforts to defend the holy site.  

In our universe, the non-iron Horde did basically the same thing, but Velen was able to escape.  The void energies corrupted the site into the Black Temple.  Fel seeped in later when the demons took over, but initially it was the void that wrecked it.  Interesting.

When Grom Hellscream learned of Draenor blowing up, he assumed Garrosh was killed, and “the news was devastating.”  He forced himself to “put aside his grief” for the greater good of orckind and led the remnants of the Horde into the Swamp of Sorrows.  

If only Garrosh knew that his father cared that much about him, even with the red pox, maybe he wouldn’t have been such a mess.  :p

Long before anyone on Azeroth had heard of an orc, the Gurubashi trolls attacked Stormwind (as seen in the Bonds of Brotherhood graphic novel that was a movie tie-in.)  All seemed lost until Medivh stood on the ramparts and unleashed a firestorm of magic down on the invading trolls.  

My question is, did it take as long to clean up the charred mess from that incident as it did to repair the city after Deathwing damaged it at the beginning of Cataclysm?  ;)  

(At least there were no huge statues near the gates to tip over in those days.  I still remember the first time I saw the cinematic of Deathwing casually knocking over Danath’s statue on his way by, and how freaking awesome that was.  Oops, this was supposed to be the non-dragon section.  Ahem.  Moving on...)

Taria Wrynn was killed while she and Varian were trying to escape the city during the fall of Stormwind.  Lothar saved the prince but could not save the queen.  :( 

No mention of Varian’s sister from the movie-verse.

Miscellaneous tidbits:

Before the Scourge, the Eastern Plaguelands were known as the Eastweald.

Maraad had a sister named Leran.  She was captured and killed by orcs in one of the first clashes in what would end up being the draenei genocide.  No mention of our universe’s Yrel, though.

The Scepter of Sargeras that my warlock has as her Legion artifact shows up in one of the art pieces in Chronicle II, in Ner’zhul’s hand as he splits Draenor asunder.  Pretty damn cool.  I mean, I knew the history behind the weapon from playing my lock, but to actually see it being used at that historic moment gave me a thrill.  (Although the thought of such a powerful weapon bumping around on some chucklehead player’s back is kind of scary...  Stand in the fire, accidentally shatter the planet...LOL!)

The cutscene in original Karazhan showing Nightbane’s origins was revisited and expanded upon significantly.  It seems that Arcanagos (Nightbane, pre-crispification) was one of Aegwynn’s few true friends (along with Moroes!), and they came to Karazhan together to confront Medivh about the Dark Portal after they sensed his magic behind it.

Sargeras took over Medivh and was like, “Hey, Aegwynn, long time no see!  Remember me?  You thought you killed my avatar, but I actually hitchhiked in your body for awhile and then possessed your son.  How do you like them apples?”  

And Aegwynn was like, “WTF?  YOU ASSHOLE!”

They fought, and although Sargeras was, y’know, a freaking Titan, he was working with a sliver of his real power in a body he had only been inhabiting for a relatively short time, and Aegwynn was not only more experienced fighting as a human, but she was extremely pissed off.  Arcanagos got fried when he tried to help her.

Sargeras was like, “Shit, I’m actually losing,” and sucked the life energy out of everyone (except Aegwynn and Moroes) in the tower.  Thus all the ghosts you see there today.  With that power, he could have obliterated Aegwynn, but deep in his brain Medivh was like, “Not my mother, you bastard!” and exerted his will so that Aegwynn was banished to some far-flung, unknown corner of the world instead of being killed. 

When he came to his senses again he was like, “WTF just happened?  Did I black out and kill everyone again?  Ugh, I hate when that happens.”  And he felt very bad.  As one does.

[#tw:  mention of rape and vague allusion to incest in the following section]

Garona’s plot definitely draws from the comics, but there is zero mention of her having a romantic and/or sexual relationship with Medivh, which I assume is Blizzard’s way of saying, “Med’an?  Who’s that?  Never heard of him!  Ooh, look, a squirrel!”  Which is honestly fine by me.  Briefly canon or not, Medivh/Garona is kind of a NOTP as far as I’m concerned (one amusing screenshot not withstanding.)

I actually rather liked the movie-verse idea that Medivh was her father, partly because it made for an interesting, poignant story (and got rid of the rape element), and partly because it made the original Warcraft I story of her being half human, half orc canon again. Retcons are a necessary evil, but clever ways to get around them are fun, too.

However, Chronicles II makes it clear that Garona’s father was an orc warrior and her mother was a draenei prisoner.  Which, okay, fine, it would be pretty jarring to go from “babydaddy” to “actual father” in main canon, so as long as they got rid of Med’an, I’ll take it.  They were still friends, and bonded over their shared feeling of being an outcast.

I’m sure I’ll think of a million things I’ve forgotten to mention as soon as I post this, but I’ve rambled long enough and I haven’t even touched the black dragonflight stuff.  Suffice it to say that Chronicle II is amazing, and while the dragon lore may not be as detailed as I’d like, we did get some juicy new tidbits to chew on.