#data smuggler

[pixpunk]

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

You know that feeling when you've just woken up with some kind collection of thoughts/'facts' and you have to just exist passively with them for a while because they don't sound right but your brain hasn't fully booted and you don't know enough about reality yet to dispute them?

[yellowcakeuf6]

Data in budgie smugglers - cuteness overload

Data’s Vacay ☀️

[77gigabytes]

The Fox's Den {Sylus x Reader}

This just kinda...spilled out of my brain... It started off as a few paragraphs and then spiraled into this, but uh, enjoy.

FAIR WARNING!!! THIS IS INCREDIBLY LONG, I MIGHT HAVE TO SPLIT IT INTO PARTS ACTUALLY IDK

|| Masterlist ||

-Seven

You’re finishing some paperwork at HQ when Jenna slides a manila folder on your desk.

“Advance tech labs has another mission for you.” She says and crosses her arms over her chest, “Hear them out first. Then go take a look.”

As if on cue, your watch beeps with a notification.

You click on it and the mission’s user interface window pops up.

Client: Unspecified - Investigative mission Status: ACTIVE Authorisation: Approved entry - No Hunt Zones: 105, 106, 107, 108

Task details: High-class Linkon residents have been seen carrying protocores to Fox’s Den, a host club, on the outskirts of Linkon. There are suspicions that the club is being used as a trading venue to sell and modify high-grade protocores into the N109 zone.

Objective: INVESTIGATE Fox’s Den FOR PROTOCORE SMUGGLERS. DO NOT ENGAGE OR ELIMINATE SUSPECTS. THIS IS AN INVESTIGATION ONLY.

As you re-read the objectives, Jenna speaks once more, “Have a look through this folder before heading to the Data Sector. ” She places her hand above the folder, “Nero and Tara are waiting there with some more information for you.”

You give her a small nod, “Yes, Captain. Will do.”

You do as you’re told and flick through the contents of the folder.

“Huh, the address is near the N109 zone?” You whisper.

Sylus has a safe house near there, I think.

It’ll be easier to complete the mission if you could crash there every now and then.

I’ll ask him when I have the chance.

There’s a few photos of the club tucked into the folder and from what you can see, it’s quite luxurious.

Entering the club shouldn’t be a problem with the brooch Sylus gave me. Hmmm. I might need to visit Jeremiah some time soon to forge another identity.

You sift through a few more pages and a photo catches your eye. It’s of a blonde woman with a hunter’s uniform and badge but stamped across the page is the word ‘TENEBRA’ in bold red lettering.

“Hmmm,” You hum as you read the sticky note attached, “If encountered, detain immediately? Who is this?”

What had she done to be labelled a Tenebra?

With that thought in mind, you think to your own situation.

Your involvement with Sylus is more than enough grounds to label you a Tenebra, but you brush that thought aside quickly.

“MC?”

Your head perks up from the sound of your name and you quickly press the folder to your chest, “Oh! Tara… Nero. I was just leaving to see you guys, actually.”

“About the case, right? Isn’t it interesting?” Tara grins, “But, yes we came here instead because Nero thinks that the Data Sector is too noisy.”

“They’re blabbing about all the time, it’s dizzying.” He retorts.

He pulls a nearby chair and motions for the two of you to come around, “Come, we’ve got work to do.”

The three of you discuss the case for a while until you ask, “Why am I being sent alone? Aren’t mission usually done in pairs?”

“Yes, well… Technically, it’s only an investigative mission, so the higher-ups don’t think we should waste resources on a mere investigation.” Nero makes quotation marks with his fingers. “You’ve got orders not to engage where possible.”

Tara leans forward to argue, “But even still, Fox’s Den is surrounded by no hunt zones! Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yes, that’s true, and speaking of which…” He opens some tabs up on his laptop, “As I’m sure you’ve seen, you’ve been approved access to all no hunt zones surrounding the area.”

You nod, looking back at your watch and also the map that spread across the table.

“But that’s not the problem.” Nero continues, “The problem is getting into the club.”

You furrow your brows, “What?” You tilt you head, “Can’t I just go in as a client?”

He clicks his tongue, “They’ve got a very specific clientele.” He says and then draws a rectangle with his fingers, “Invite only.” He emphasises. “Did you think you could just waltz into the place?Everyday?”

You tense for a moment. I thought… with the brooch...

But you can’t tell them about the brooch; They’ll ask you how you got it. So you settle with, “I- well,” you scratch your temple, “I haven’t really thought that far yet.”

...

Your meeting with the two ended just as the sun dipped completely below the horizon

Somehow, they’ve got you a position as one of the hostesses.

You huff. You don’t know a thing about being a hostess.

To be fair, being a hostess would give you the widest variety of intel.

Never had you thought you’d be going undercover like this, but the job must be done, you suppose.

You harshly tug your helmet on and head to Sylus’ safe house on your 270HM.

If he says no, then you can just scout the area on the way back home. That way, the ride there wouldn’t have been for nothing.

“Oh! There you are, little miss hunter.”

You turn around at the voice of one of the twins. “Luke, Kieran?”

“Mephisto told us you’d be here.” Kieran says pointing to the sky where Mephisto circles above the three of you.

“Is Sylus-”

Luke responds before you can finish your question, “The boss has a important business deal, but,”

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us in the meantime.” Kieran finishes the sentence as he opens the gate.

You can almost see the grin behind his mask.

“How long will he be gone?” You ask as you walk with the twins into the house.

“It might not even be until tomorrow that you’ll see the boss.”

“If you’re lucky--” Luke starts

“--I’ve checked your luck index today, miss, you’re not.”

“Kieran!” You smack him on the shoulder

“Anyway,” Luke starts again, “As I was saying, if you’re lucky, he might be done by midnight.”

…

Well now, it’s way past midnight and the boys have convinced you to play card games as you wait. From old maid, to kitty cards, to Big 2.

Eventually, they pull out another deck of cards with haphazardly drawn crows. - “We’ve invented our own version!”

Your brows furrow.

“Crow Cards!” They say in unison.

You’re speechless. You shake your head with a chuckle, but oblige them regardless.

It isn’t long before Kieran has passed out on the couch and you can tell that Luke isn’t too far either.

“Luke, why don’t we get you and your brother to sleep?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” He yawns and give you a nod, “but Kieran can sleep here on the floor.” He snorts, but goes to haul him up anyways.

“I can use one of the spare rooms, right?” You ask

“Of course. The boss has even gotten spare clothes specifically for you in every house. They should just be in the closet of the en suite.” He points to one of the doors, “That one is your room.”

It didn’t take very long after your head hit the pillows that you drifted off into a shallow sleep

Just as the sunlight begins peaking through the horizon, Sylus enters into the safehouse

Mephisto is cawing at him incessantly.

“What has you so worked up?” He frowns.

“CAW!”

Sylus walks through to the main area and sees cards strewn across the floor.

He examines them, seeing the poorly drawn crows, and looks to Mephisto, “What?” Sylus raises an eyebrow at Mephisto, “You led me here because Luke and Kieran made you look like roadkill on these cards?”

Mephisto shakes his head and pecks the cards out of Sylus’ hand. He pitter-patters to the door of the en suite and lightly pecks at it

Sylus’ frown deepens but he follows after him.

And there you were - laying on your stomach atop the sheets.

He lets out a small chuckle, “Tsk tsk, kitten,” he shakes his head, “You’ll catch a cold at this rate.”

He gently turns you so he can lift you up into his arms.

With his Evol, he untucks the sheets and lays down with you in his arms.

You have your head on his chest and legs entangled with his own.

With all the movement, you lift your head blink your eyes open, “Hi.” You whisper.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, kitten.”

You plop your head back down onto his chest, “Yeah, I wanted-” you yawn, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh? You’re asking me for a favour? How unusual.”

You only hum in response and close your eyes again.

For a moment, he thinks that seeing you in the sunrise makes the sunlight a little more bearable.

“What is it that you need, sweetie?” he asks, brushing his lips against the top of your head.

“The location of my mission is near this house.”

“And?” he shoots you a smug smile, “What is it exactly that you’re asking, Dove?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m asking if I can stay here for a little while.”

He chuckles and gently swipes at the space between your brows, “Do you know what you look like right now?” he asks, “A kitten with a temper.”

You untangle yourself from his grasp, “Screw you.”

It quite futile since you end up in his arms once more.

“What mission is so important that the hunter’s association would send you into the N109 zone?” He asks.

“One,” You put your pointer finger up, “It's near the N109 zone. And two,” You lift another finger, “Apparently, there’s some shady trading of high-grade protocores.”

“Hah, when is there not?” He chuckles.

You quickly brush his question aside, “But you’ll let me stay, won’t you?” You pout for good measure.

“I never trade for a loss, dove.” He taps a finger on his temple. “What are you planning to give me in exchange?”

“Um…” You contemplate on the question. “I'll trade any protocores I find that I think may be of use to you?” Your intonation makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

“What makes you think that I don’t already have access to such protocores, sweetheart?” He shifts to lay on his side with his head propped up by his arm.

That’s true. What could you possibly offer to a man who already has everything in the palm of his hand?

You glance up at him, “Well, then… truthfully, there’s nothing I can give you.”

I guess he won’t let me stay after all.

One of the corners of his lips tilt upwards into a smirk, “There is…” he pauses as he procures a piece of paper with his Evol, “Something you can give me.”

You take the paper and frown as you read the contents, “Isn’t this that restaurant by the river? The one with the orchids?”

“Mmm.” He hums in agreement.

“What could I possibly give you there, Sylus?” You ask

He chuckles, “Well, it’s quite simple, really.” He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “I want you to stay with me… Until the moon is high above our heads”

His voice is so close to your ears that you have to turn away

“I want your time.”

A few days have gone by since your…encounter with Sylus.

Now you’re face-to-face with the owner of the club.

He has his hand grabbing the lower half of your face, turning it side to side.

You grit your teeth. Keep it together for the mission, MC. You say to yourself.

“She’ll fetch a hefty price from the clients, that’s for sure.” He chuckles

He almost throws you towards a woman who has a comb and spray bottle in hand.

“Another?” She asks

“Get her ready.” He says as he begins to walk towards the bar where the guests are, “I want her ready for service by the end of the week, Stella.”

The woman, Stella, as you’ve learned, rolls her eyes and grabs you by the arm.

She drags you across to one of the clothing racks and pulls various clothes up to your body. She takes some off, and others she returns.

Your eyes wander as you stay still, and for a brief moment, you see a blonde woman in a red dress, strutting towards the exit.

“Tenebra?” You mumble

“What?” Stella raises her brow.

“Huh? Oh, I was asking If I’ll need to wear a bra.” You gulp hoping she’ll believe your cover-up

She stares at you for a moment but then continues to find you a dress.

After a while, she’s finished with your make up and has given you a run-down of the rules.

“For tonight, you’ll be staying with me.” She says as she walks towards the exit

You scramble after her. You barely catch yourself from bumping into her as she abruptly turns around to address you.

“Keep close and don’t wander. Do you understand?”

You nod, “Yes.”

She wraps a red band across your wrist with ease, “This bracelet means that you’re off limits for the mean time.” She grips your wrist and squeezes, “So I suggest you keep it on your wrist even if your life depends on it. You won’t have this luxury for long.”

What have I gotten myself into?

You spend that night observing each and every one of the hostesses and clients.

Memorising faces, names, voices. Anything.

As the week ends, you’re back at the safe house trying to piece all the information you have so far.

You’re hunched over the coffee table with papers scattered about. Some of which you’ve scrunched up and have unintentionally made into Mephisto’s playthings.

You huff.

Everything looks normal, but clearly that’s not the case if HA has sent you here. They wouldn’t have sent you here if there wasn’t some concrete evidence of a covert operation.

Sylus stops cleaning his gun and smiles as you frown. The bastard.

You huff once more and rub your temples.

“You look as if you’re going into a grand battle.” He chuckles and leans back into the sofa.

“I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere!” You throw your hands into the air.

He carefully returns the gun to it’s case and settles himself on the floor next to you, “Talk to me.” He pulls the pen from your hands and spreads the papers across the table, “We can figure it out together.” He glances at you with the smallest of smiles.

A couple of weeks have gone by and you’ve gotten better at acting as a hostess.

You find that a lot of these clients have a very loose lips - ever so willing to give information with so little incentive

Today, you’re cozied up with a client, your legs in their lap, and an arm wrapped around one of theirs.

You grin internally as he continues to talk about all the protocores he could offer you.

“Oh?” You say sultrily, drawing circles on his arm.

YUCK

“Oh, I do, baby.”

EUUUGHHH

You’re trying your best to suppress a scowl.

“I could give you all -”

You glance up at him as he stops mid-sentence.

Your gaze shifts from his face to the mirror behind him where your eyes meet Sylus’s intense gaze.

What is he going here?

Sylus nonchalantly walks over to the two of you and the room has gone still.

“And who might this be, sweetie?” He glowers at the man, but his question is directed to you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the man beat you to it, “Mr Sylus, I’m-”

"I didn’t ask you.” He says sharply.

“Sylus, what are you doing here?” Your grip around the man loosens and you quickly shift your legs to plant your heels on the floor.

“Well… Sweetie.” He emphasises the endearment as he pulls you from the other man’s lap, “I’m here for you,” He pulls you to his chest

Without another word, he tugs you into one of the private rooms.

With the momentum, you fall to the loveseat in the middle of the room.

“Sylus!”

“When you said you had a mission here, I assumed you were going in as a client.” He locks the door and makes his way to you, “Not a hostess.” He narrows his eyes as he traps you between his outstretched arms on the loveseat.

“Why does it matter?” You glare back at him, “I’m still getting the information I need.”

“You realise that I could get you all that information in the blink of an eye, right?”

You know that. You do. He never lets you forget. Head of Onychinus. King of the N109 zone.

But what does that say about you?

Always relying on someone else to do things.

Always relying on Xavier on missions. Even Rafayel helped you at The Nest. Zayne’s always taking care of your health, and now Sylus, too.

When had you ever truly done anything yourself?

You grit your teeth, “Look.” You say as you muster up all your courage to glare at him, “I appreciate the help, but I’m not some dove that needs saving.” You push at his chest, “I can do this on my own.”

He yields as you push him until both of you are standing.

“I can’t just rely on you for everything,” You say.

Tenebra - the word plants itself at the forefront of your mind

His chest heaves as he looks at you, but he doesn’t speak.

“What am I supposed to say to the association?” You walk towards the door but look back at him with a soft smile, “They’ll label me a Tenebra for even breathing the same air as you, remember? We can’t have that now, can we?”

He takes a hold of your wrist. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

“Mmm.” You shake your head, “I know, but even then… I want to be able to proudly say that I was able to do a mission with my own strength.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you shrug your hand away from his hold.

“So,” You place you hand on the door knob, “Let me do this on my own, Sylus.”

As you leave, he deflates onto the loveseat with a sigh.

As much as it stings that you don’t want to rely on him, he understands what you’re trying to say.

You’ve gone many days without seeing Sylus, not even at the safe house.

At the host club, you return to your dressing room with the brightest smile, you’d think your face would split in half.

That drunk client spilled all the beans. They are smuggling protocores through this host club. He mentioned a warehouse south from here, in the no hunt zone. Luckily Jenna authorised your entry into that zone. You’ll have to check it out after you leave the club.

As you exit, your watch beeps, “Huh? Wanderers? This far from the no hunt zone?”

Your hands settle at the hilts of your hands guns strapped to either thigh.

With vigilant eyes, you scan your surroundings. Trees upon trees in every direction.

Taking soft and steady steps, you head deeper into the no hunt zone.

Eventually you see lights scattered throughout the tree line.

There’s a large building stood in the centre of the clearing.

As you walk closer, you hear voices. “The warehouse.” you whisper.

Then a truck whizzes past and you duck for fear of getting caught.

It drives far into the warehouse and you follow around to get a clearer view.

They seem like specs from this distance, but they’re unloading the protocores from the truck.

The impatient part of you screams to just sneak into the warehouse.

But that fire is quickly extinguished when you notice a few men patrolling the warehouse.

“I need to come back another time. With a plan.”

The next few days you observe the schedules and their protocol for receiving deliveries

You manage to sneak your way into one of the trucks as your shift ends at the host club.

In the truck, you’re shallowly breathing from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You close your eyes to take a deep breath as the truck slows to a stop.

“This is the last one for today, boys. Let’s do this quick!” You hear a man shout.

Your hand comes up to press at your sternum. Your heart is beating right out of your chest so much so that blood is thumping in your ears.

“You think we’ve got some aether cores to sell today?”

“Tch, I wish.”

As their footsteps grow louder, you take a slow breath-

BEEP BEEP!

You gasp as your hunter’s watch detects wanderers nearby. You grasp at your wrist to dampen the noise. Hunching over, cradling your arm as it beeps again.

STOP! Please!

“What was that?”

What do I do? I’m going to get caught.

“Check it out.”

Think. Think.

From their footsteps, you can tell one of the men has walked into the truck.

THINK!

You don’t have a choice.

With a grunt, you charge at the man, shooting him in the chest, before hauling his body to cover yours as you exit the vehicle.

“INTRUDER!” the other man yells. “INTRUDER! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN.”

Sirens blare as shots are fired in your direction. One lodges itself into your thigh. With a scream you dump the body shield and limp as best as you can out of the crossfire.

Another shot whizzes past the side of your arm. Another into your lower abdomen as you turn to shoot at them.

Before you make it to the forest, a loud roar shakes the ground and you stumble onto all fours.

A wanderer. A Hoarfrost Wyrmlord, you recognise.

It stomps it’s way towards the warehouse, likely drawn in by all the noise.

You scramble away as best as you can, but behind you are the men from the warehouse.

Your breaths have become rapid and shallow, “Where…”

The Wyrmlord locks onto you, blowing out gusts of air from it’s nostrils.

You begin shooting at the Wyrmlord but it looks unphased.

You duck for cover as it shoot icicles your way.

Protocores. You think. “You must have a shield somewhere.” you say as you peak over the metal pillar.

“You!” A foreign voice takes your attention.

The man has his gun pointed to you.

Swiftly, you kick your leg out in an attempt to disarm him, but he catches it and kicks at your other leg so that you land face first into the dirt.

For a few moments, you wrestle him until he’s got you in a choke hold.

You elbow him in his side and as his grip loosens you try to swing him over your shoulder.

But he uses the momentum to kick off of the pillar, and the action flings you backwards, and your back hits the ground with a thud.

You grunt and struggle to stand.

Before you can shoot him, a Harte Knave slashes through him.

Just as quickly, your bullets pierce though the Harte Knave and it disintegrates in dust.

Another roar shakes the ground as you and many others are pulled into a protofield.

“No!” You scream.

“Sylus!” You yell into the air.

Hoping, praying that he just might appear out of thin air.

...

“CAW!”

Meanwhile, Sylus is seated in another safehouse.

His leg is bouncing up and down.

You should have returned to the safe house hours ago, but there has been no notification of your arrival from the security system.

For every centimetre the moon rose into the sky, so did his worry.

“I appreciate the help, but I’m not some dove that needs saving.”

Your words echoed around in his mind for the past few hours.

“I can do this on my own.”

He knows that. You’re strong. He’s seen it.

“They’ll label me a Tenebra for even breathing the same air as you, remember?“

Tch.

“I can’t just rely on you for everything,”

But something was wrong.

His intuition never failed him.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Mephisto.” Sylus quickly stands and stretches his hand out for Mephisto to land on.

A holographic video pops up and Sylus sees you dropping the lifeless body and limping away into the tree line.

The screen flickers for a moment as you scream his name before you disappear into the protofield.

Even before the video ends, Sylus is rushing out to his motorcycle. He pulls up the coordinates from Mephisto’s previous location history and speeds away.

Why did I leave her by herself? Near the N109 zone nonetheless. I’m a fool.

In the protofield, the Wyrmlord is the last wanderer.

There are only a few other humans left and luckily, the Wyrmlord is beginning to stagger too.

You’ve managed to break it’s shields but you’re heavily wounded and the Wyrmlord has caused the temperature to drop so rapidly that it’s difficult to even pull the trigger.

Sylus… Please…

You know he can’t just appear into a protofield. But somehow his name on your lips gives you enough strength to continue the fight.

Out of desperation, you’ve managed to resonate with some of the Evolvers.

And with great effort, you and another Evolver deal the final blow to the Wyrmlord and you’re transported back to the warehouse.

Sirens are still blaring and the edges of your vision are fading.

“Sylus.” You whisper walking away from the warehouse.

You grunt as you slump against a sturdy tree.

The shards of ice that were lodged into your stomach have vanished along with the protofield and now your blood has begun to soak through your clothing.

With a few harsh tugs, you rip your sleeve off and press it against your wounds.

Everything hurts, but you try to slow your breathing.

Your watch beeps once more.

The adrenaline causes you to perk up at the thought of more wanderers.

WARNING! Critically low blood pressure - severe blood loss. Coordinates have been sent to the nearest Hunter’s Association field lab.

When you wake next, the room is too bright for your eyes to adjust.

You blink and raise a hand to your face to block the light.

Glancing around, you notice it’s like any other bedroom.

You groan as you sit up.

Looking down at yourself, you see the faint outline of multiple gauze pads from underneath your top.

You limp out of the room, using the wall to take most of your weight.

You flinch as you feel a tap on your shoulder, hands immediately going to where your guns would have been.

“Relax, Kitten.” Sylus says, with both his hands up in the air, “I’m just trying to help you.” He begins to lower his hands.

“Sylus…” You croak from the dryness of your throat.

You could do nothing but stare. Was this real?

You were hyperventilating a little, and he’s never really seen you so high-strung.

“You’re safe.” He says as he slowly cups the side of your face.

“Sylus… I…”

He lowers his forehead to yours and you visibly relax.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart.” He repeats the phrase as he gathers you into his chest.

“I won’t let you go ever again.” He whispers. “Never again.”

I told you it was long XD. I had fun though. If you guys like it, I don't mind fully fleshing this out into chapters. I really enjoyed writing this one actually.

|| Masterlist ||

-Seven

[writingquestionsanswered]

So Im currently trying to write my first big story - big as in I'm trying to make it a book - But im overwhelmed with what to do:

I want to write, but first I have to work out the acts and plot. But to do that I have to do some research as it's historical fiction. And that's where I'm failing, because I'm making very slow progress and it's frustrating. It also takes away the last of my motivation.

Do you have any tips on how I should proceed now or what might help?

(I might want to add that I'm working full-time outside and often can only work on weekends on it)

De-Motivated by Story Research Prior to Plotting

Research prior to plotting can be overwhelming and frustrating, so here are some tips that might help:

1 - Start with a General Summary - Before you worry about plotting out scenes and figuring out the different acts, try writing a beginning to end summary of what you want the story to be. Don't worry so much about specific details like dates, places, proper terminology or events, etc. Use general terms to fill those in. It might look something like this:

[[ SPOILERS for the novel Outlander by Diana Gabaldon ]]

A former English military nurse in the 1940s travels to Scotland and inadvertently travels back in time, to the 1700s, via standing stones near the inn where she's staying. There she encounters a band of smugglers and is taken captive and brought to the local laird's castle. Despite the suspicions of the laird and his war chief, they see her value as a healer and she settles in as the castle's healer-in-residence. During this time, she tries to figure out a way back to her own time, but also forges a friendship with one of the smugglers she patched up when she was first captured. Eventually, she is summoned for questioning by a British captain (who happens to be an ancestor of the husband she left in the 1940s) who suspects her of being an English spy, and the highlanders try to protect her by having her marry the highlander she patched up. Despite her attachment to her new husband, she runs away to the standing stones but is caught and imprisoned by the British captain. Once she is rescued by her new husband, they return to the castle where she gets wrapped up in a witchcraft accusation and narrowly avoids being burned at the stake. Finally, she and her new husband travel to his family castle, but since her husband is a fugitive, he is captured by British forces and taken to prison. The nurse is able to rescue him with the help of some of his clan, and they eventually escape to France.

[[ END SPOILERS ]]

While this is a fairly complete beginning to end summary of the first book in the Outlander series, it leaves out a lot of specific details related to time, setting, world, character development, etc.

However, going through this summary, it would be easy to see places where research needs to be done. Just looking at the first part of the summary, we can already see a lot of questions we could ask about specifics:

A former English military nurse in the 1940s travels to Scotland and inadvertently travels back in time, to the 1700s, via standing stones near the inn where she's staying.

-- Who is this woman? (Where is she from, where did she serve? Why does she go to Scotland?)

-- Where are the standing stones? What do they look like? How do they transport her back through time?

-- Specifically what year in the 1700s does she travel to? What is happening during that time?

This would give you some ideas about what, specifically, you need to research. Breaking it up in this way not only makes it less daunting, but gives you specific things to research instead of trying to learn a bunch of unnecessary data.

2 - Learn How to Research Historical Details - My Guide to Internet Research offers some general research pointers (though I probably need to update it, tbh). Also, I have a post specific to Researching an Historical Topic. Furthermore, there are some good books that guide you through researching historical fiction, as well as helpful books about specific time periods that are geared toward writers.

3 - Make Use of YouTube - I can't express enough how helpful YouTube can be when researching historical details. For example, if Diana Gabaldon were preparing to research and write the first Outlander book today, she could find videos about British nurses in World War II, specific places in Scotland where the book is set, videos about the history of the Scottish highlands, video about Scottish highlander culture, videos about clothing and fashion in 18th century Scotland, videos about the history of witchcraft in Scotland, videos about the British occupation of Scotland, videos about 18th century healing and medicine, videos about healing herbs of the Scottish highlands... you name it.

4 - Know Your Time and Dedicate Accordingly - One of the hardest things to remember when researching, plotting, and writing long fiction is that there is a certain amount of time it's going to take you, no matter what, and if you overestimate how much time you actually have to dedicate to your WIP in a given day, week, month, or year, it's very frustrating and de-motivating. One thing you might try is taking an honest look at your calendar for a particular week or month. For each day, subtract the number of hours you'll spend sleeping. Then, subtract the number of hours you'll spend working, commuting to work, traveling for work, etc.. Finally, subtract the number of hours you know will be dedicated to other necessities, like taking care of family, doctor appointments, workouts, etc. This may only leave you with barely an hour a day, but knowing you have that hour to dedicate to writing is important. Not only can you block off and fiercely guard that hour, but you can be more realistic about what you'll get done with the hours you have available in a given week.

5 - Don't Feel Like You Have to Rush It or Figure It All Out Now - We have a tendency to imagine a ticking clock where one doesn't exist. If this is your first long fiction story, especially, there is no reason to feel like you need to get this done post haste. Give yourself grace to take the time you need to get it done. Putting unnecessary pressure on yourself only demotivates you. Instead, try to look forward to that hour a night where you can dive into learning about the time, place, and world of your story. Also, don't feel like you have to know every specific detail before you start plotting or even writing. It's okay to research as you write--as you come to things you need more information on--or even to use placeholders in your first draft, allowing you to go back and fill in the research later.

Happy researching and writing. You've got this! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: A quiet mission for the Spectres retrieving medicinal supplies on behalf of the Rebellion leaves Sabine and Ezra without much to do. While perusing through the Holo-Net to pass the time, Sabine receives a message from Shana Tavorri - a Fulcrum agent and Ezra's former childhood best friend - with an unexpected attachment: a questionnaire usually reserved for couples. Sabine is, predictably, annoyed by the agent's antics but Ezra becomes intrigued and convinces his best friend to participate in the questionnaire. What starts off as an innocent distraction turns into a deeper introspection on the nature of their relationship . . . and what awaits both of them in the years to come.

"Anything ping your scanners yet?" came the voice of Kanan over the comms. Sabine reached a hand out, pressing the button to reply on the Ghost's main control dashboard. She was sitting in the main pilot's seat, a rare event, necessitated by the delicate nature of their current mission. Beside her in the co-pilot's chair was Ezra, legs propped up on the console, arms crossed in a relaxed position. He glanced over at her and shook his head.

"Nothing yet, Kanan," she replied. "How are things on your end?"

"Same as it's been for the past thirty minutes," said Kanan. "Hera's trying some new search patterns. The containers containing the supplies should be around here somewhere."

"You want us to join you?" asked Ezra. "An extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt."

"No. Asteroid field is too dense for the Ghost. Hera and I are doing just fine out here in the Phantom II. You guys keep watch out there and alert us if you see anything suspicious."

Sabine sighed. More waiting, she thought. I hate that.

She caught her friend's eye and saw her own thoughts mirrored in his expression. But Ezra just answered with a simple, "Copy that. We'll be on standby."

"Thanks. Oh, and Ezra?"

"Yes?"

"Hera says to take your boots off her dashboard."

Sabine grinned. In a flash, Ezra dropped his feet to the ground, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"How did she - can they see us?" Ezra muttered. He stared out the main canopy, but only saw the same sight they'd been staring out for a while now: a floating field of asteroids and space dust. If the Phantom II was skulking out there close by, then they were hidden well.

"Hera's always had a sixth sense regarding the Ghost, goober," Sabine reminded him. "You should know that by now."

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "Right, right."

The latest mission for the Ghost crew was a relatively simple one: retrieval of medicinal supplies lost in an asteroid belt. Word had reached Rebel intelligence that a convoy of smugglers had ditched their cargo while on the run from an Imperial patrol in this area of space. They had been tasked from Rebel Command to find the missing supplies and bring them back to Atollon Base.

The asteroid field was dense, requiring quick maneuvering and a deft hand at piloting. The Ghost was too big, hence why Kanan and Hera had opted to use the Phantom II to locate the supplies. Sabine and Ezra were entrusted with command of the Ghost, hovering outside the asteroid field as back-up.

Chuckling, Sabine reached down into the knapsack by her chair and took out a data-pad. Connecting to the Holo-Net, she started to scroll through the news page trying to glean information from the thousands of articles regarding the Empire's current movements . . .

Her data-pad chirped. A notification popped on-screen: she had been sent a message. Tapping the pop-up, she frowned at the messenger ID, feeling a slight twist in her stomach at the name.

Shana Tavorri. A Fulcrum agent, and former childhood best friend to Ezra. Their last meeting had left Sabine with mixed feelings, unsure whether to call the young woman a friend . . . or a rival.

With a heady sense of dread, Sabine opened the message.

Have you told him yet? If not, maybe this will help get you started.

That was the whole message. But there was an attachment . . .

Sabine opened it. Immediately, a female voice blared out from the data-pad's speakers.

"Hello, young lovers! It is I, your esteemed love specialist, Dr. Eros. Are you feeling like the spark has died in your relationship lately? Then worry no more! I've concocted a series of questions - "

Sabine threw the data-pad onto the ground. The voice squawked and died out.

Ezra jerked in his seat at the commotion. "What the kriff was that about?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Sabine rubbed at her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She could imagine Shana's face, giggling at her discomfort.

Beside her, Ezra gingerly picked up the data-pad and scrolled through the message's contents. He looked back up at Sabine, a bemused smile on his face. "Interesting reading material," he said, a casual slant to his tone.

"Don't start," Sabine warned him. "Your friend Shana has an odd sense of humor."

"She does," he admitted. "What is she talking about, by the way? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Her heart flew into overdrive. She snatched the data-pad from his hands. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," she snapped.

Ezra's hands flew up in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. I won't ask, if it's something secret between you two."

An awkward silence descended between them both. Sabine grimaced, feeling a slight sense of shame at her actions. Things between her and Ezra remained . . . uneasy since his incident with the Sith Holocron. They had agreed to start patching things up since then, but it was not easy navigating through the complicated feelings that had sprouted up.

Not looking at him, Sabine spoke up to break the tension. "Sorry."

Ezra shrugged. "No harm done. You want to try it?"

"Try . . . what? The message from Shana?"

"Yeah," said Ezra. "Looks like she sent a questionnaire of some sort. Could be interesting. And we have nothing better to do in the meantime."

Now she turned to look at him, feeling incredulous. "Ezra, you know it's a questionnaire made for couples, right?"

"Right."

"We're not a couple," she pointed out.

"Also correct," he replied. "But what does it matter? We're bored, and I miss talking to you."

Ah. I'm not the only one who has been struggling lately, she realized.

Ezra looked at her, his bright blue eyes so earnest and sincere . . . Sabine couldn't resist. Despite her misgivings, she felt a smile forming.

"Alright," she relented, handing over the data-pad. "Let's give it a whirl."

Ezra beamed at her, clapping his hands in excitement. He downloaded Shana's message attachment into the Ghost's main console and, once it finished, the ghostly blue holo-image of a female Twi'lek, adorned in a professional doctor's outfit, appeared from the holo-projector.

"Greetings, young lovers," said the holographic Twi'lek in a syrupy sweet tone. "I am, as you know, Dr. Eros, love doctor extraordinaire. I've written many acclaimed books on the subject of relationships and am now here to juice up your ailing love life with a series of specially honed questions to probe the depths of your feelings towards each other!"

Sabine gagged. Ezra snorted at her reaction.

"If you're both ready, let us begin the questions!"

Ezra glanced at her, a lop-sided grin on his face. Pressing a button to pause the holo-recording, he asked, "Still want to continue?"

"Can I get a bucket to puke into?"

He laughed and resumed play with a quick button press on the console.

Question 1: What do you think I'm hiding?

Sabine leaned back in her seat, thinking. The holo-recording froze, putting itself on an automatic pause for the participants to answer each other. Ezra gazed at her and asked, "Guess I should go first?"

She gestured at him to do so. "Go ahead, goober."

He squinted at her hard. Sabine felt beads of sweat begin to form on her forehead. Ezra was already perceptive before his Jedi training took effect, sometimes annoyingly so, but as his abilities increased in the Force, he had gained an uncanny ability to guess what others were thinking or feeling. Kanan had the same ability, despite his recent blindness.

"Any day now," Sabine said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her best friend crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "Honestly, my thoughts on this question haven't changed since we first met."

"Oh? How so?"

"I think you hide your feelings, Sabine. Despite your rebellious, devil-may-care exterior, I know you care deeply about people. It's a part of you I admire immensely, and I wish you were more open about it."

Sabine was quiet, absorbing all this. "I - look, most of us in this fight care about people," she replied, feeling a blush heat up her cheeks from Ezra's compliment. "I don't think I'm unique."

"You're unique to me," Ezra countered. "After all you've been through, I wouldn't lay blame if you turned away from it all and just focused on surviving for yourself. Instead, you continue to care. That is remarkable, in a galaxy that can be cold and uncaring at times."

"I did do that though," Sabine pointed out. "With Ketsu, after I ran away from the Imperial Academy."

"For a short time," Ezra replied. "And then you chose a better path. And, later on, you helped Ketsu to choose better, too. Even after what she did to you."

Sabine looked away, scratching at her cheek in a sheepish manner. "Yeah, well, when you put it that way . . . I guess it sounds pretty good."

"It is good, Sabine," insisted Ezra. "I just want you to show everyone else what I see all the time."

She could not meet his intense stare and settled for just looking down at her lap. "Yeah, okay. I should open up some more. I got it," she said quietly.

"Okay, well." Ezra's tone suddenly turned awkward, as if he realized that he had perhaps been too intense with his positivity. "I guess, uh - I guess it's your turn. What do you think I'm hiding?"

She thought about it some more and then came up with her answer.

"Guilt," she said.

Her best friend didn't say anything. She chanced a peek at his face and saw only an inquisitive look. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Sabine blew out an anxious breath. "Well, first of all: guilt that you've been hiding for a while that you actually don't like the haircut that I gave you."

Ezra's jaw dropped open. She arched an eyebrow at him. "What? You didn't think I would notice?"

In a reflexive motion, Ezra reached out to brush his hand across his scalp, the hair still brutally short after Sabine's handiwork. "Look," he admitted, "it's not that I don't appreciate it, but I distinctly remember telling you to make it shorter. Not short."

She crossed her arms. "There's a difference?"

"Yes, there's a difference," he stressed. "I didn't want a buzz-cut!"

Sabine shrugged. "Then you should have said so, goober."

"Also, it's hasn't been growing back like it should," he said. "Did you do something else while you were busy shaving away at my scalp?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should have gone for the eyebrows also while I was at it. Then you would have something legitimate to complain about."

Ezra's cheeks heated up, his mouth opening to make some sort of scathing retort - and then he closed it shut. Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're messing with me."

Sabine stuck her tongue out at him. "Too easy."

"You're not going to take this seriously?" he demanded. "I gave you a serious answer."

"So did I," she retorted. "I was just getting started. Let me finish."

"Okay, well go ahead!"

"You're still feeling guilty over what happened with Ahsoka! And with your family, and with Kanan's injury, and getting reckless causing everyone around you to worry, and with every other bad thing that has happened to the people you care about!"

That shut him up. "I don't - we talked about this," he said, confused.

"So? Nothing was fixed, Ezra. We talked about it once. Doesn't make everything right."

Sabine leaned forward. "I can still see the guilt eating away at you. You've got to stop."

Her best friend's face smoothed into an expressionless mask. "And how I am supposed to feel about any of that?" he asked quietly. "Because it doesn't make sense to not feel somewhat responsible. I was there. I could have done something. And what I did afterwards made the situation worse than it already was!"

"Yeah, you did do something. And it pushed you to a scary place, mentally and emotionally."

"I know it was wrong! You've made that point already. I almost lost myself in the ordeal - and, even worse, I damaged our friendship. How much worse do you want me to feel about it, Sabine?"

She shook her head. "That's the point, goober. I don't want you to feel bad about it - any of it. You need to let it all go. I understand, really, I do, why you are so guilt-ridden. But you can't help everyone, Ezra. You can't save everyone, even as a Jedi Knight. Trying to do so, as you found out, will tear you apart. So, stop feeling guilty and move on."

That caught him off-guard. "I - what? You want me to move on?"

"Yes," Sabine said patiently. "Forgive yourself. You made a mistake. You learned from it. At least, I hope you did. Everyone else has already forgiven you and moved on."

He gazed at her. "Even you?"

She matched his stare. "Yes."

"Why? I think I hurt you the most."

Sabine considered her answer carefully. They were veering awfully close to emotional territory that she was not ready to tread . . . yet.

Thanks for the message, Shana, she thought sourly. Fun, fun, fun.

In the end, all she said was: "That's not one of the questions on the list, I believe. Which means I don't have to answer."

Ezra's stare became baffled. "You're kidding."

In response, Sabine reached out to the console and pressed play. "Next question."

Question 2: What do you think is my favorite part of my body?

The recording paused once more.

"I'll go first," Sabine announced, ignoring the exasperated look on Ezra's face. "I think the part of your body you favor most is your mouth, actually."

Mine too, came a heated thought, unbidden. She immediately shoved it back towards the dark corner of her mind that it came from.

Ezra's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Really? And what makes you say that?"

Her answer seemed to ease him out of his earlier mood, and she let loose a tiny sigh of relief. "Other than the fact that you're a natural born yapper? You love talking to people, Ezra."

He snorted. "Gee, thanks. You give the best compliments."

"You're welcome," she responded sweetly. "Also, you're a Jedi. You guys love to solve things diplomatically, I've heard."

"A Jedi only raises their weapon in defense," Ezra replied, the often-quoted mantra repeated to him via Kanan countless times. "Yes. Violence is a last resort, and the worst possible outcome to any Jedi."

"Yeah, but more than that . . ." Sabine scrunched up her face, trying to finish her statement. "More than that, you just know how to talk to people, at their level. You make everyone you meet feel welcome and seen and understood. That's a rare talent."

Ezra shrugged. "It's a Jedi thing, I imagine."

Sabine shook her head. "No," she corrected. "It's an Ezra Bridger thing."

He smiled at her. "I liked that compliment better than your earlier one."

"Just stating a fact, goober. Anyone with working ears and eyes knows that to be true about you."

Ezra nodded. "My turn now, I think."

"Sure. Go ahead and tell me."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your hands, obviously. Not a hard guess that they're your favorite part about yourself."

Sabine beamed at him. "Not bad."

"Like I said, it was an obvious guess. You do everything with them. But I think your mind is the actual answer."

Sabine's smile grew wider. "I'm impressed."

He gave her a mock bow. "I aim to please."

His face turned serious. "You're fiercely intelligent, Sabine. One of the cleverest people I've ever met. Not just in technological aptitude, but in how you handle situations. 'The skill of a person's hands does not matter, if the mind controlling them is inept.'"

Sabine kept her face impassive, but felt her insides turn to quivering jelly at his professed admiration of her abilities. Why the kriff are you so good at making me feel this way, Ezra Bridger?

She coughed loudly to hide the crimson flush spreading across her cheeks. "Let's, uh, get to the next question, shall we?"

"Sure," Ezra replied, grinning.

Question 3: What is something you would never give up?

"My armor," Sabine said instantly. "No doubt about it."

Ezra nodded in agreement. "If we're talking about material objects, I guess my collection of helmets would be my choice."

She blinked at him in surprise. "The ones I painted for you?"

"Yeah."

Sabine pointed at his lightsaber, hanging off his belt from its clip. "What about your lightsaber? I hear Kanan preach all the time about it being - "

Ezra smirked and said in an impersonation of Kanan's voice, "The weapon of a Jedi is their life, Ezra. You must not lose it, ever."

"Well. Yeah. Isn't it important?"

"It is," Ezra confessed. "But I can always build another one. As a reminder, this is my second lightsaber."

"Okay, so what makes the helmet collection more important than a Jedi's weapon?" Sabine asked, curious.

Ezra sat back; eyes lost in thought. Sabine waited for him to give his answer.

"I started it when I was young, and by myself," he said quietly. "After my parents . . . well, you know."

She nodded, not saying anything. Ezra's parents had died not too long ago, after an escape attempt from an Imperial prison had led to the successful release of all the prisoners held there - except for themselves. They had been listening to Ezra's broadcast across the galaxy, urging for those oppressed under Imperial rule to fight back.

Ezra's words had been the last thing they heard before their death. Sabine couldn't imagine what her best friend had felt upon discovering this.

"It was a way of distracting myself; keeping my mind from dwelling on the situation I was in. The loneliness I felt was sort of kept at bay whenever I scored another helmet. Every time I scored another one, it felt like I was hurting the Empire, silly as it sounds. It wasn't a fun hobby, but it kept me going. It wasn't much, but it was all I had."

His gaze fell to hers, his blue eyes focusing on her brown ones. "And then I met everyone here. You guys added to the collection. Zeb, Kanan, Hera - and then you. You made them special. You made them my own, with your wonderful painting. Turned the helmets from symbols of tyranny into works of art. Something I could be proud of owning - and, maybe, someday leaving behind."

Sabine's gaze turned watery. She swiped a hand across her face, clearing it of the tears falling down her cheeks.

"You had to make it personal," she muttered. "I feel like my answer sucks in comparison."

Ezra laughed. "Your armor is an heirloom, Sabine. It's very important to you. And this isn't a contest, you know."

"Yeah, but my armor is mine. I don't share it with anyone else. What you just said about your helmet collection . . . it wasn't about you, Ezra. It was about everyone that added to it, made it grow, made it unique."

He cocked his head at her. "Your armor is the same way, isn't it? Forged by the history of your clan, and all those who came before you?"

"Forged through bloodshed and war," she responded bitterly. "That's not a history to be proud of. Your helmet collection is a work of love. It's not the same."

Ezra was silent for a few moments. Then, he said sincerely, "I love the designs you put on your armor, Sabine. They're beautiful."

She crossed her arms, feeling that irritating sense of vulnerability whenever they talked like this. "I did it an attempt to make it something more than what it originally represented."

"You put a lot of effort into them, I know. I've seen you work late at night, maintaining the colors."

"What's your point, Ezra? What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying it's a labor of love. Just like my collection is. You don't color inside the lines. You don't want to be the same as your ancestors from the past, I get it. That armor doesn't have to define you, Sabine. You spend so much time fretting over making it something more, but I don't think you realize that it's not the armor that matters most."

Sabine stared at him. "Then what does?" she whispered.

He leaned forward. "The person wearing the armor."

Ezra poked her lightly in the chest. "You, Sabine Wren, are what matters most. The armor may be your past, but it does not decide your future. You do."

Her vision started to get blurry again. Sabine swiveled the pilot's chair away for a moment, wiping furiously at her eyes.

"Let's move on to the next question," Ezra suggested gently.

Question 4: What do you miss most about us?

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment.

"It was simpler, somehow, when we first started as friends," Ezra pointed out. "I guess that's what I miss the most. The ease of knowing where we stood with each other, and . . . just being able to talk about anything."

Sabine reached out and grabbed his hand. "We'll get back there, goober. I promise."

He nodded, his eyes misting over with tears. Inwardly, Sabine felt a tiny sense of satisfaction. Good, she thought. Someone else's turn to cry today.

"I really messed things up, Sabine. I know you just told me not to feel guilty about it, but I can't shake this feeling like we can't fix this," he said miserably.

"We can absolutely fix this," replied Sabine. "Look - you can feel bad about it for five minutes, okay? Five minutes, and then you move on with your day."

He let out a shaky laugh. "It's that easy, huh?"

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Easier with a friend."

Question 5: What is your favorite food?

"Thank the Force," Ezra said, relieved. "An easy one."

"Spice-infused noodles in meat broth," Sabine answered instantly, on his behalf. "Paired with a fizzy lime-twist drink. For dessert, slices of ripe meiloorun and hot chocolate."

"Wow." Ezra applauded her, grinning as he did. "Outstanding. You are well-schooled in the topic of Ezra Bridger."

Sabine blushed. "I just pay attention, that's all."

She pointed at him. "And now it's your turn, I believe. Go on - what's my favorite food, Ezra?"

"Uh," he said. "Meat?"

Sabine narrowed her eyes at him. "Meat? That's all?"

Looking lost, he added pitifully, "Cooked meat?"

She punched him in the arm. "Ezra! Are you serious?"

"You eat by yourself all the time in your room! I don't have x-ray vision, you know!"

Sabine threw up her hands in annoyance. "Whatever. Next question!"

Question 6: Who wears the pants in your relationship?

Sabine stared at Ezra, who was sweating slightly.

"Go on, goober," she challenged. "Who do you think it is?"

Rubbing at his arm and wincing, Ezra replied quietly, "You."

She leaned forward and patted his cheek affectionately.

"That's right," she said cheerfully.

Ezra gave her a shaky smile in return. She leaned over and pressed the button for the recording to resume playing.

Question 7: If we never meet again, what would you want to take away from us meeting?

Sabine frowned. "Next question," she said.

Ezra looked taken aback. "You don't want to answer this one?"

"No," she said firmly. "It's a stupid question."

Ezra let out a deep sigh. "And why is that, Sabine?"

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Because you're not going anywhere. The question is presumptive."

"Nothing is certain," Ezra pointed out. "We're at war. None of us can guarantee the future."

"It won't come to that," Sabine insisted. "I'm guaranteeing that, on my honor."

"Sabine . . ."

She slammed a fist on the console. "No, Ezra! No compromises with the Empire, or the Rebellion. If either of them comes asking for you, they're going to get my blaster as a response."

He looked at her with a small, sad smile. "Can I give you my answer?"

"No."

Ezra snorted. "Too bad. I'm going to give it anyway."

As he leaned forward, Sabine fought the urge to look away. She forced herself to meet his bright blue eyes.

"If - if, mind you - should the event come to pass where we part ways, I want you take away from our friendship that . . . well, it means the galaxy to me. The Force works in mysterious ways, but I'm fortunate that it led me to meet everyone on the Ghost. Especially you. Our friendship is one of the best gifts I could ever hope to receive in this life. And I wouldn't exchange it for anything."

Sabine's face twisted in grief. "Then why won't you fight for your life? Why are you so accepting of an end that is yet to come?"

"I'm not. Of course, I'm going to fight with every last breath in my body: for you, for Kanan, for Hera, for Zeb, for Chopper - for everybody!" Ezra's blazed with passion; with surety of himself and what he stood for. "The Empire will never rob me of that need to fight back for what I care about."

"It doesn't scare you?" she asked. "The idea of dying?"

"It does scare me, Sabine. It's not that I'm bigger than the fear, but that I don't want it to consume me. I have to choose hope - that one day, we'll see the end of this war and live to brighter days. And if that doesn't happen . . . I have to hope that the place I make my final stand in, I can make a difference. No matter how small it may be."

Sabine's arms crossed over her stomach; it felt like she was trying to keep everything important inside her from spilling out. "You're never small to me, Ezra Bridger," she said firmly.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes melancholy. "But I'm just one spark, among so many lights. The fight needs to go on without me. And I'll be counting on you to do that."

One spark, among so many. His words echoed inside her, ripping open a hollow space that ached with the pang of future loss. Her loss.

Of him.

Ezra thought that if his spark went out, others would fill it. That the combined light of the Rebellion would illuminate the space he had been in.

Sabine did not accept that, she realized. She would always be aware of the void he once occupied. It would loom large and terrifying, like a black hole. It would gobble up everything around it, warping time and space - crying out endlessly to be filled.

Something shifted in her thoughts and a realization struck her sharply.

I'm in love with you.

Hiding it would be difficult, she knew. Sabine decided to take her own advice - she would allow herself to acknowledge her feelings, to feel them fully, for at least five minutes every day.

Then she would gently bury them until the next day. And so on. Go back to maintaining the friendship she held so dear between them both.

The complicated feelings that had tangled in her mind for a long time finally resolved themselves into a crystal-clear picture. But it was not a cathartic release; it was not a joyous revelation.

Sabine Wren was not a gracious loser. And if the galaxy was her competition for Ezra Bridger, then so be it.

The comms crackled to life from the Ghost's main console. "Look alive, you two," said Kanan's voice. Ezra and Sabine jerked slightly in their seats, suddenly remembering their surroundings. "We've located the medicinal supplies and will be bringing them out shortly."

Ezra's arm snaked out to press the button for a reply. "Copy that, Kanan. We'll be ready."

Sabine shut down the holo-recording and began maneuvering the Ghost into position for the incoming cargo.

From beside her, Ezra asked quietly, "I don't suppose I'll be hearing your answer any time soon?"

She paused, taking the time to consider a reply.

Finally, she shook her head. "I'll give you my answer someday, Ezra."

He gazed at her softly for a moment, then said, "Okay. I trust that you'll do the right thing, Sabine."

She smiled at him in a reassuring way. But, deep down inside, her answer burned in the furnace that stood in place of her heart.

If the galaxy tries to take you from me, Ezra, then the galaxy will lose.

[talesfrommedinastation]

“The constant mention of my genitals is starting to concern me, Captain Saavedra,” Tech smarted back as he put his data pad down, his hands on his chair, and leaned right back into Toivo’s face, “It almost seems as if you have been thinking about them since you walked into my office.”

-Tech, 'Of Void and Chaos, Part 6' To Guard Against Titans

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

The ultimate weapon against Toxic Masculinity is Neurodiverse Honesty. Brag all you want, you won't impress the unimpressed.

And Officer Goggles here absolutely knocks it out of the park in this chapter. Seriously, if you need Tech annihilating arrogant jerks verbally, strap in.

Oh, lest I forget, the blond jackass to the right?

Meet Commander Toivo Saavedra, patriotic Belter, smuggler, womanizer, OPA terrorist, pilot, and Overall Asshole. He's going to be a thorn in the side of both the Rocinante crew and Clone Force 99.

Read more here: To Guard Against Titans - Chapter 7 - Mightymeatmuffin - Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

[astroturf-enthusiast]

Here's the Ninjago timeline as I personally think of it;

- The Pilots and first 2 seasons take up roughly 1.5 years (Lloyd's 2020 if you will) mostly to give a semi-realistic measure of training requirements

- Rebooted (s3) starts a year later due to the insane technical development and that they've been teachers for a bit

- ToE (s4) starts 8 months later given they all left to grieve Zane and Jay has an entire game show thats got returning contestents

- Possesion (s5) i think is about 3 months after season 4. Shadow of Ronan takes place during this span so it fits that he stole about 2.5 years from them. Tbh I think that museum visit was the first or second mission Lloyd went on after leaving to grieve Garmadon

- Skybound (S6) technically doesn't matter ayoo!! But I think its another 4 months after S5

- DotD is 7 months after Posession, to make space for Skybound and potential post-skybound happenings

- Hands of Time (S7) is like a week after DotD at most- they're literally cleaning up after it. I also think it takes about a week to play out

From here on out there's a wrinkle in the timeline so things may be soft rebooted or altered

- Sons of Garmadon and Hunted (S8/9) start I think 6-8 months later because the Ninja deserve more time to have been on their own without a mentor- and Ninjago city gets some major changes (royalty?) And Lloyd gets on Testosterone and it goes on i think for 3 months

- March of the Oni (S10) is a few weeks after Hunted ends and only lasts like a few days

- Forbidden Spinjitzu (S11) canonically a few months after MotO so I'm going to say 3-4 since that's reasonable for them to slack off before Wu gets pissy about it. I also think these two parts are actually a rather long time frame- not only because of the 70ish years of Ice Emperor rule- but between searching for Aspheera and beating her, then grieving again and traveling realms and THEN they're there for a long while? All in all I'm going to say start to finish its like 3 months

- Prime Empire (S12) about a month after returning from the Never Realm- they've healed wounds, Kai re-masters fire, and Zane has erased 3 Terabytes of SSD data- all is well

- Master of the Mountain (S13) I think is roughly 2 months after S12 because again there's no real basis for why there's time between but I can't imagine one week your Kirito from SAO and only like a week later your in the Elven lands-

- The Island/Seabound (S14) i think this one is a few weeks after MotM because it starts off as a rather "small scale" job about busting a smuggler and thats what I figure they do in the months between big seasons. It just so happens that expands into a much larger plot.

- Crystalized (S15) 1 full year exactly after Seabound ends. Can't elaborate because this ones actually canon

- Dragons Rising I think the merge is about half a year or so after Crystalized and the jump from Merge to current story I think is 3 years but my girlfriend says 5 years so we'll see if either get confirmed or elaborated on

If you think they're about 18 in the pilots, that'll make them around 23 at Crystalized and between 26/28 during Dragons Rising

[jedimordsith]

Deleted Scene from Latibule

Luke looked up from his reading when the door to the Organa-Solo apartment slid open. Han wandered into the sitting room a moment later. His sense was warm and relaxed, and his attire matched. His formal jacket was slung over one shoulder, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his spavat had been untied and hung loose at his collar.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “Pretty quiet in here. You didn’t sell my kids to the circus, did you?”

”Not for lack of trying,” Luke quipped back, marking his spot and tossing his data pad on the lounger beside him. “Ringmaster said they were too small yet. Since I have to wait and try again next year, I dropped them back in their beds. They’ve been out cold for an hour. How was the event?”

“Just like every other one,” Han shrugged and flung his jacket over a nearby chair. “Lots of fancy people who like to listen to themselves talk eating fussy hors d'oeuvres and drinking wine that’s more label than taste. Leia had a good time until she and Winter got cornered into a hush-hush meeting with Mon over something.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you go, anyway? You like museums.”

“I’ve already been,” Luke said casually, rolling to his feet and grabbing his glass from the side table.

”This was the grand opening,” Han objected. “What, did you get some kind of special Jedi tour?”

“Something like that,” Luke offered noncommittally, angling past his brother-in-law toward the kitchen.

Han’s demeanor turned smug. “Let me guess — it was one of your excursions with Jade.”

“It might have been,” Luke shot a sly look over his shoulder. “But I’d keep that suspicion to yourself if I was you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

”Because you have a life day coming up, and if you don’t do anything to bring unwanted attention to Mara, a bottle of Whyren’s gold might find its way into your gift pile.”

“Gold label?” Ambling after him, Han whistled. “How’re you affording that on a Jedi’s salary?”

”Mara’s getting a couple cases at a pretty serious discount,” Luke confided, rinsing his glass and putting it in the cleaning unit. “Someone at the distillery owes her a favor.”

”That’s some favor.” Han cocked his head. “She seems like the type who knows how to collect ‘em, though.”

The Omega in Luke bristled. He immediately quelled the reaction, but not before Han caught it.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his hands, palms out. “You know I’ve got nothing but respect for Jade. The NRI might jump to tawdry assumptions, but that’s just because they lack imagination. Me,” he lowered his hands, pointing at his chest. “I’ve been around the system. Flesh is easy and cheap. You want to collect real favors, you have to get into the weird stuff.” Raising his eyebrows, he held his hands a short distance apart, palms parallel to one another. “Saw a guy trade a whole moon once for this ugly little statue — this big, looked like it oughta be a doorstop at a tacky cantina.”

Amused, Luke felt the tension in his shoulders ease. He clapped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder as he passed back toward the sitting room.

He’d known, intellectually, that it would take a while for the NRI to warm up to Karrde and, by extension, Mara. The Intelligence community was skeptical of smugglers as a whole and less than thrilled at how deftly Karrde’s organization had shoe-horned its way into the respectable echelons of the New Republic government. The fact that they couldn’t find a single record of Mara’s existence prior to her work for Karrde only exacerbated their frustrations. He didn’t begrudge them their caution, really.

But after three heats spent in Mara’s bed, the Omega in him had unavoidably begun to think of her as his, and he couldn’t entirely suppress the instinctive resentment that flared when she was disrespected.

Their secret Force-healing and training sessions didn’t help the situation. Mara was intensely careful about her shielding, only ever letting him into one small section of her mind or body at a time, but the anxiety singing at the edges of his touch each time left him profoundly aware of the risk she was taking, entrusting him with even that much. There was something incredibly intimate about extending his own control over the Force into her body, knitting together the fine sheathing around ravaged nerves or unraveling knotted scar tissue and seeing her entire body soften as a long-borne pain slipped away. About the way she smiled when they finished, as if he could see a little more light behind her eyes, a little more spaciousness in her breath.

Then there were their “excursions” as Han called them. Mara had grown up on Coruscant and, much to his delight, Luke had discovered that she had a mischievous streak. When the mood struck, she would appear from nowhere with a glint in her eyes that made his heart rate kick up with the same bright anticipation he’d known as a youth when he raced his skyhopper toward the canyons to Thread the Needle or when sneaking round bases during the early days of the war with the Rogues, intent on pranking another squadron. Ditching whatever he was supposed to be doing, he’d follow her at all hours of day or night. It was through those stolen moments that she introduced him to all the intriguing places that existed beneath the surface —often literally — of Coruscant’s glittering cityscape. Private libraries. Greasy cantinas whose menus were as obscure as they were mouth-watering. Junk shops whose backroom shelves mysteriously stocked the most hard-to-find parts for anyone willing to ask no questions about their provenance. And, occasionally, secret tunnels and camoflaged peep holes through which they accessed yet-to-open museum exhibits or dress rehearsals of the most in-demand new performances.

In her determination to prove her independence from her former master and the life he’d shackled her into, Mara was steadily, and entirely accidentally, achieving the one goal she’d believed wholly out of reach: capturing Luke’s heart.

It’s fine, he told himself for the hundredth time, gathering his data pad and bidding Han goodnight. It wasn’t like they slept together outside of his heats, and Mara was genuinely the perfect Alpha. She would never claim him, would never try to bind him or prevent him from keeping his vows of independence and service to the new Jedi Order that he was building. As an Omega, it wasn’t like he could claim her, and her traumatic past meant that even at his weakest he would never ask her to claim him. If she ever found another Omega to bond with, the loss might kill him. Unless or until then, however, he intended to enjoy every moment he could manage with her.

[starphasedd]

Unmade

2 - The Encounter

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Rating: 18+ for violence, explicit language, and smut.

Synopsis: "After a week alone on an unknown jungle planet, the Mandalorian returns to you from his hunt, but he isn't well."

Word count: 4k +

Chapter 1 | AO3 | Next chapter - coming soon

9Aby - Unknown jungle planet  - Present 

You stopped asking a while back. 

Today it was  " unknown jungle planet, pretty rainy. It smells fresh, like summer morning dew drops." 

You were writing notes in your datapad. You never had the chance to travel, so you wanted to keep a diary of sorts . You did it for every planet you visited.

"Not a soul in sight. Lots of bugs though. The kid likes eating them."

No sun breaks through the dark storm clouds above. It's the middle of the day, but it's dark as if it were night. A cool breeze passes through the inside of the Crest as you sit atop of the gangplank, just out of reach of the rain. 

"Tall, thick pine-trees circle the ship, providing plenty of privacy. Hides us from any wandering enemies. Thick fog rolls in and out at times too."

The baby sits next to you on the cold durasteel, watching you type on your data pad. He coos softly, his head tilting as he studies the motions of your fingers. You glance down at him through your peripherals and smile. 

"Mando's been gone for almost a week. Hoping he returns soon. Tired of the rain; ready for a new backdrop. Something sunny and bright."  

Mando was hunting a well known smuggler who was last seen heading towards this planet. You couldn't blame the guy, if you were honest. This planet consists of nothing but dense wooded areas; all kinds of places for him to hideout until whoever was after him gave up. 

That week, you spent a lot of time playing with the kid. He was pretty entertaining. He got into everything . Which was trouble. The little wamp rat was constantly trying to run out past the campsite and into the trees. Even after Mando gave explicit instructions not to leave the ship. But you couldn't stay cooped up there all week. Had he come back a little sooner, maybe. But he's been gone for six days . Could he honestly expect you and the little bundle of energy to stay on the ship ? 

Shoot first and ask for forgiveness later. 

It didn't rain the entire time you were there, thankfully. Earlier in the week, the two of you ventured out a little past the ship to see if you could find anything to snack on. Mushrooms, or berries. Maybe even some new spices you could take back to the ship. There was pre-made food on the ship. But you'd been eating those ration packs for months. You were dying to taste something new. Something fresh . 

It turned out to be no luck for you, unfortunately. However, the baby did find a nest of indigenous bugs. He enjoyed those thoroughly. The little terrorist ripped through the nest like he hadn't eaten anything in a solar cycle. You can remember the distinct crunch , and then the sound of their gooey insides being chomped around in his mouth. Not one of your favorite moments with the kid. 

It took you a few months to get used to him and his little quirks. He was well behaved for the most part. He was quiet and respectful. He didn't really make messes. If he did, he never complained when you instructed him to pick them up. He did have his moments though. It usually involved what he considered 'tasty food'. You'd say that was his biggest quirk. He wouldn't eat anything normal if you weren't there to make him; to ensure he got proper nutrients as any growing boy should. 

Sometimes he would fight you on the regular food–the ration packs. He hated the goopy consistency of them. You did too, for that matter. You wondered how Mando survived on them all of these years. But, that's what he provided. And you weren't disrespectful. You took what he gave you with a smile. 

Once you had enough credits saved up, you wanted to treat him and the baby to a nice, real dinner. Something that a red blooded man like Mando could use. Protein and carbohydrates. Maybe even some wine. 

You'd make a note to ask him that. 

"Does the Mandalorian drink wine?" 

Something to thank him for his generosity and hospitality. Taking you on his ship. Giving you a job; an easy one . Saving you from that spice addict all those months ago…

You think back on that night often. Sometimes it keeps you awake in the darkness of the Crest's haul. You think about how his deep, modulated voice rang through the durasteel halls of your shop. You think about how he didn't hesitate to step in once he saw you were in immediate danger. You think about how… big he looked in his armor; how wide and bulky he was. His arms burst from under the Beskar pauldrons. You think about how gentle and soft he was once he secured your safety, immediately coming to your aid to check on you. 

All for a woman he had never met before?? Just a lowly mechanic in a rundown shop on Tatooine. Dirty and covered in grease. Sweaty from a hot summer day. Probably smelly.

He didn't seem like an overly friendly person. He kept to himself. He was quiet and only spoke to you when absolutely necessary. Sometimes it's like you weren't even there. 

You were still enamored by him, though.

Your thoughts weren't always pure, either. It concerns you how often you find your brain falling down a slippery slope to a sexual fantasy of your employer. It was easy to get rid of them in the beginning. You would simply start thinking of something else, something to distract you. It quickly became more difficult the more time you spent with him in this tight space. 

You often wondered how he fucked. Does he even fuck ? Is he celibate? Is celibacy part of Mandalorian culture? Had he ever fucked before? Would he fuck you slow or fast? Would he fuck you hard or would he be gentle with you, like he was at your shop?

Your legs are crossed, thighs pressing together before you even realize what's going on. A fire in your core begins to burn like the Tatooine suns, threatening to shoot you into a dark state of arousal. A tension you could probably never resolve. 

At that point, you don't realize your fingers are moving across the datapad…

"How big is he…."

You're almost in a trance, cheeks heated and red as your fingers move without supervision. You snap out of it when the baby coos next to you. You glance down at him, his big brown eyes watching you in wonderment. He cocks his head to the side as if he's curious and you clear your throat, also trying to clear your mind of the inappropriate thoughts you were having. 

In the flustered process, you didn't even read what you had subconsciously written down; setting the data pad down next to you and picking the child up. Rain still patters softly on the crest, the wind blowing the tall trees circling around you.

The smell of the rain reminds you of him.

He was very clean. It was surprising to see a man shower so frequently. The men you encountered in life were never really conscious of their body odor. Mando was the opposite. He always smelled so good ; fresh like summer rain. Even coming back to the ship after a long, tiring, and perilous hunt, he still always smelled faintly like his soap, mixed with fresh dirt and plasma burn from his blaster. It was enamoring. 

You could almost smell it now as you sat atop the gangplank of the Crest. It was a distinct smell of his that stuck with you. It was his husky smell, mixed with cool air and rain water. Small droplets bounce off the durasteel shell of the Crest as you sit silently next to the baby. And you’re shocked when you see trees rustling in the distance. 

There’s a plasma gun in your pocket and your hand drops to hold it tightly–just in case. But a warm chill runs through your body and you exhale a sigh of relief when Mando emerges from the gloom of the forest. 

He looks weathered and tired.

You squint and wonder why he’s moving so slow, but then you see the body he’s dragging behind him. This bounty was massive . 

Stars , how could he transport that thing all by himself? 

You stand on the gangplank to greet him, grabbing the baby and holding him against your chest. Once he gets a little closer, you can see why he’s struggling a little more than usual with this bounty. Apart from its massive girth. Mando is limping. And his flight suit looks torn to shreds. Maker, this one really put up a fight didn't he? 

As he approaches, you quickly turn and rush to the baby’s pram, setting him inside and shutting the top for now. Once the baby is secure in his bed, you head back down the plank to assist Mando. He trudges up the ramp slowly, stopping half way and you swear you see him wobble a few times. When you approach, you rest your hands on his left shoulder to help stabilize him. He stops dead in his tracks and looks down at you. His hands are still holding onto the bounty tightly. 

You pause, hoping you didn’t insult him by touching his shoulder. His chest rises slowly, but he’s taking much bigger breaths than any normal man should. Had he been shot as well? He watches you intently through the T-visor for a few moments, as if he’s collecting his thoughts. 

You’re out from under the protection of the Crest’s haul now, rain pouring over your head and soaking your body. You look up at him through wet lashes. You mouth “what??”, as the sound of the rain now pouring down drowns your voice out. 

He’s still just standing there, staring at you. 

At this point, you’re getting irritated. Now soaked and just standing  in the pouring rain. You shove him forward, and that’s when he seems to snap out of his stupor. He stumbles into the Crest, throwing the lifeless bounty near the carbonite chambers. You step inside and immediately close the gangplank after him. When you turn around, he’s standing still with his back facing you. 

You can see he has multiple deep cuts, and he’s visibly exhausted. Almost makes you feel bad for getting irritated with him. 

You slowly start to approach him from behind, but then he whips around like he could see you coming. He’s still breathing heavy, his chest rising high and falling low with his deep breaths. His head hangs low, but the T-visor is still trained on you. His fists are opening and closing at his sides. 

You stand there for a moment with caution. Something is wrong.  

“You okay…?” You ask.

He stands there, staring at you for a few more moments before he turns silently and starts walking towards the fresher in the back of the ship. You watch him, utterly befuddled by this odd behavior. Really, it’s not like he ever speaks to you. You have yourself convinced that he doesn't even remember you exist half the time. He’ll cross paths with you on the ship like you’re a ghost floating in thin air. 

He normally retreats and treats his own wounds when he does come back injured, but this is different. 

The way he looked at you. How he stopped in his tracks when you touched him. How you felt his muscles tense at the gentle contact. His heavy breathing and his hands twitching at his sides. You noticed all of it. Something about it seemed…primal. 

Primal and undisciplined. 

Your mouth hangs agape as you watch the fresher door slide shut. For a few moments, you try to gather your thoughts. Such odd behavior.  

After gathering yourself and your thoughts for a couple more moments, you step forward and begin heading up to the cockpit. Once there, you sit in the pilot's chair and listen to the soft pattering of the rain dropping against the Crest. It’s dark in here, no sunlight shining through as storm clouds continue to cover the sky on the wretched planet.

You sit back in the leather seat, letting your head rest against it.

You rest your eyes for a few moments. A few moments turns into an hour when you accidentally fall asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s still raining and dark. You look around, Mando still isn't here. taking another deep breath before you open them again and will yourself to climb out of the pilot’s seat. You slowly make your way  down the ladder from the cockpit, to the fresher door. Normally when Mando is in the shower, you can see a thick fog seeping from underneath the door–he takes hot showers. Right now, you don’t spot any fog. You don't hear any noise. 

You gently rest your ear against the door to see if you can hear anything, but you don’t hear a peep. Now your heart is starting to race. He’s normally done by now. He washes up quickly–even if he is wounded. He dresses his wounds at lightspeed. 

After listening for a few moments longer, you still don’t hear anything. 

Out of slight panic, your hand comes up without even realizing it and knocks on the fresher door. Just once. 

You listen. No answer. 

Two more knocks. 

No answer. 

"Mando?” You ask loudly enough for him to hear you. 

You hold your breath for a moment so you don’t miss anything. 

“Are you okay?” You warn, voice wavering. 

Still no answer, but you do hear a faint groan. It’s very faint–like he didn’t intend for you to hear it at all.

“If you don’t answer I’m coming–.” You start to warn, but you’re cut off when the door to the fresher busts open. A violent wash of air hits you in the face, sending all of your hair falling to your back. 

Mando stands before you, breathing heavily than he was earlier. He leans on one side of the doorway while his hand rests on the fresher door where he forced it open. He grunts and shoves past you like you aren't even there. You turn to watch him limp over to a cabinet that’s built into the haul of the Crest. His gloved fingers tangle around the handle but he struggles to open it. He now has one hand on his side, holding a fresh wound. 

Maker, why is he so fucking stubborn? 

You approach him from behind, careful not to get too close in this state. It’s almost like he can sense you’re getting close because he stops what he’s doing and shuffles away from you again. That hurts a little. 

“Let me help,” You say sweetly, trying to bring him comfort. 

He groans audibly through his helmet. His breaths are shaky and gravely. 

“Go away.” He finally speaks. 

“You need help.” You say, getting a little closer to him again. This time he doesn’t move as much. 

“Y’--can’t help.” He mumbles, still clutching his side. He starts to slump over against the wall. The beskar clunks when it hits the cold durasteel. 

Slowly and very carefully, you approach him and gently lay your hand on his shoulder. A shockwave of chills run down his body and he lets out another hoarse groan. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You say, bringing your other hand to lay over his shoulder. Both hands now softly against his body. 

He huffs through the vocoder, slowly turning his helmet towards you. It drags on the wall as he does so. 

“Aphrodisiac…” He mumbles, it's barely audible, and he isn't enunciating very well right now. 

You lean a bit closer to hear better. “What?” 

He grunts out of frustration, his hand balling into a fist on the wall as you inch closer to him. His muscles tense and he lets out another shaky breath. 

“B-bounty hit me wit-with a…..” 

It’s at that moment you finally realize what’s been going on. Your cheeks flush a bright pink and your eyes open a little wider than they were before. That’s why he couldn’t stop staring at you when you touched him. 

An aphrodisiac is a drug that stimulates sexual desire–makes all forms of decency and pleasantries go out the window. It scratches a primal desire deep within, and cannot be flushed out of the system without release. It stimulates the senses–which explains why he was so sensitive when you touched him just now. 

You keep your hands on his shoulder, watching him as you contemplate your next move. Should you offer to help him? What would he think? Would he turn you down? Fire you for making advances on him ? Your breath is caught in your throat and your heart is now racing. Your mouth is going dry, your lips starting to chap as you think of your next move. He hasn't said anything in a moment. He’s still leaning up against the wall, his helmet resting on the cold durasteel. For a moment you think it may just stay this way, but then he speaks.

He turns his helmet a little towards you again. “Y-’need t-to leave…the s-ship..” He mumbles. 

You lock eyes on his t-visor again. “I can’t just leave you like this.”

You watch as his hand leaves the wall and comes back to grab yours. His cold leather glove feels like ice when it wraps around your much smaller and delicate digits. He grabs you hard, and pulls your hands away from his shoulder. When he releases your hands, that same gloved hand that just grabbed you flies up and flattens against your chest, shoving you back against the cold wall. His palm butterflies against your skin, covering your entire chest. 

You grunt at the harsh impact, your lower back immediately arching off the wall, coming closer to his waist. 

“Leave. Now .” He hisses. One hand remains butterflied on your chest while the other holds him off the wall above your head, boxing you in. 

Your face is still bright pink, and now your breathing is a little elevated. Your lips part to speak, but when he shifts on his feet you glance down and see how painfully hard he is under his trousers. The sight of him like this sends an erotic chill down your spine. Your mouth is hanging open again, soft breaths sneaking through your teeth. He doesn't say anything, just stands above you–his chest puffing up and down in a rhythmic fashion as he tries to control his primal urges. 

Your lashes flutter as you look back up into his T-visor. You want to offer him a resolution. You want to offer him release . But you’re nervous he may shoot you down. His body radiates like a furnace above you, making yours burn in return. 

“ I can help you .” Your voice is just above a whisper, eyes shooting back and forth rapidly as you try to catch his eyes through the tinted visor of his helmet. 

He remains in front of you, his chest heaving up and down like a medieval mammal getting ready to attack its prey. His fingers twitch on the wall next to your head. It’s almost scary how still he is as he stands over you. 

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly reach both hands to rest them on his stomach. Once your palms are flattened on his toned stomach, you slowly begin to snake them around his armored sides–with much caution of course. You keep your eyes on his helmet to gauge his reaction as you proceed slowly. Your fingers grip the taut fabric of his flight suit gently, and you slowly start to pull him towards you. 

He doesn’t pull back. 

With your hands now on his waist, you’re pulling his clothed erection towards your front. Without warning, he removes his hand from your chest and flattens it up against the wall next to your head. He’s leaning in now–going with you. When you get his waist close enough to yours, you take the initiative to lift one of your legs up, helping to fit him in nicely between your thighs, while letting one of your feet remain on the floor to keep you steady. Now he’s hot and hard against your clothed core. He burns like the Tatooine suns combined, bringing more friction to your core as he slowly presses himself against you. 

He groans loudly this time, his gloved fingers digging into the durasteel wall behind you. 

Your hands continue to grip his waist and pull him as close to you as possible. And soon, he starts letting his upper body fall against you as well. He’s so much bigger this close up. He towers over you, leaning most of his weight on you now. He doesn’t let his helmet fall this time though. 

No. 

He wants to watch your reaction as he starts to thrust against your clothed core. 

His hips roll in deep harsh thrusts, forcing your entire body back and up the wall as he starts to really man-handle you. 

He leans into you harder, letting his right arm drop so he can grab ahold of the pillowy flesh of your hip and hold your leg up steady against his waist. He spreads you a little too while doing so. He holds you there, pushing into you harder and faster by the second. 

Something hot and heavy is starting to burn inside you. He thrusts his hips into yours, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed core without shame. You never thought it could feel this good when there wasn’t skin-to-skin involved but maker does he know what he is doing. Does he know what he's doing or is this just pure, blind, lust taking over his body?

This has to be a fever dream or something because holy fuck . There’s no way the Mandalorian–big, mean and unwavering–is dry humping you right now. The most feared bounty hunter in all the galaxies is holding you up against a wall, panting in your ear like a rancor in heat, and rubbing his hard cock against you. 

Your body jolts up and down against his, your back still firm against the cold wall. He grunts as his thrusts become more quick and needy. He lets his helmet drop to lay in the nape of your neck. A bead of sweat rolls from your forehead and drops onto the cold beskar of his helmet. He pants loudly into your skin as he continues fucking you over your clothes. One of his hands remains on your hip, the other one moves to snake behind your head so you can rest it. You let out a whimper when he thrusts on you particularly hard–his hard cock pressing against your sensitive clothed clit. 

“S-smell so good…” He mumbles into your neck. 

You glide your hands up his body, letting one hand slide up the back of his neck to massage the base of his skull. He mmm’s low in his throat, nuzzling further into your soft skin as he continues to dry hump you. 

“S’soft….fuck, you’re s-so soft sweet girl…..” He speaks. 

You smile softly, resting your cheek against the cold beskar helmet as his thrusts start to become sloppy. You whimper when he hits that sweet spot again, putting friction on your swollen clit. 

When you moan, he starts thrusting faster. His grip tightens on your thigh, and he pulls your body closer to his. He’s sloppy now, hinting at his upcoming release. 

"Y-you close? m’--y-you gonna cum?” He asks–and fuck . You wish you were. 

It’s too much though. This all came on so fast that you can’t really focus and enjoy what he’s doing to you. No, it’s more difficult than that. You’re too focused on other things like the feeling of his helmet resting on your shoulder. Or the sounds he’s making of which you never ever thought you’d hear. Or the way he’s talking. The way squeezing your hip so hard that you know it’ll be bruised tomorrow. It feels so fucking good –but you don’t know if you can cum for him just yet. But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah..” You whimper softly as he thrusts up against you. 

You grip him a bit harder, letting him get as close as possible to reach his release. When he does, it’s magnificent. His first behind you smashes into the haul with force and he groans something in a foreign language. His body shutters violently and you feel the warmth spreading in his trousers. The hand wrapped around your hip slowly starts to lose tension, and eventually falls from you. Your leg falls limp with it, your foot slamming against the floor. 

He huffs heavy breaths against your neck, still leaning against you. You breathe heavily with him, letting your head fall back against the wall. 

After a few moments you notice his heavy breathing has stopped. 

“Mando?” You ask through a whisper. 

He doesn’t answer. You soon know why, because a few moments later you realize his body is getting heavier and heavier. He starts to fall, completely knocked out as he lays against you. You curse as he starts to slide and you have no choice but to go with him. His beskar armor clunks heavily on the floor. 

You sit up and look down at him after you finally manage to wiggle from underneath him. 

How the fuck are you supposed to get him into his cot now?

---

Chapter theme: Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift

@orcasoul @dins-riduur-anthe @drawingdroid

[kedsandtubesocks]

in the shadow (of your heart) - Mandalorian!Bakugo

pairing: Mandalorian!Katsuki Bakugo x Jedi!Reader

tags & warnings: (all characters aged-up 25+) Star Wars AU, intense yearning and light angst, brief discussion of raising children, a surprise Jedi!Todoroki x Smuggler!reader appearance, Monoma bestie supremacy, exploration of mandalorian lore and customs, inexperienced Bakugo and the endearing fluff that comes with him

wc: 7.6k

a/n: here it is…the cultivation of all my other snippets and ficlets that have led to this moment, you don’t necessarily need to read them before to understand this but I think it would just add to the goodness of reaching this point, biggest and dearest thank you to @willowser & @ofmermaidstories always being my mando bakugo squad, also the title of this piece comes from the always lovely Florence + the machine & her song ‘cosmic love’ - thank you for reading!

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

It’s been a galactic month since your entire world collapsed.

A month has passed since the Jedi temple was attacked. A month since you woke up and found yourself in the bedroom of the mandalorian that conquered your heart.

And a month since you…

The thought of what you did has you flinching in pain like you just touched an exposed live wire.

Someone calls out your name. When you turn there stands Shouto along with his intriguing friend - the scavenger pickpocket who could speak seven and maybe even more languages.

“We plan to explore Tatooine tomorrow.” Todoroki is patient and calm, a true honor to his Jedi title. “You’re more than welcomed to join us.”

Even his friend, the pickpocketing smuggler who still does not seem trustworthy, wears a rather understanding look mirroring Shouto’s.

You think of the heat on Tatooine, the blistering mirage of the sand and the change of scenery it might bring.

So you agree to go.

Shouto smiles a reassuring grin that whispers of how proud he is for you to take this step.

His smuggler friend grins wider. “Sweet, guess that means I get to steal a bigger means of transport for us.”

��No.” Shouto flat out swiftly shuts the idea down.

Something hollow, the echo of a laugh leaves you but you hope even this is the start of returning back to yourself.

You send Monoma a private message over your jailbroken data pad about your upcoming trip. He immediately calls as you pack.

“Sure Tatooine is boring but...” Neito begins, a bit bored himself. “You can go snag me one of those nice satchels the vendors there sell.”

The truth is easy to find under his words.

I’m glad you’re getting out, I’m glad you’re trying to move forward.

You ask if the Jedi council has anything new to stay and just thinking about it draws a deep ache in your soul.

“Nah. They’re mainly keeping busy overseeing the rebuilding process and there’s been no update on the hunt for the culprit.”

You sigh. There had been no leads or luck on your side of the search either.

“I’m not surprised. Leads are going cold. Even with Sir disgusting picture perfect Jedi knight Deku still on Naboo, we got nothing.”

Oddly enough you missed hearing Monoma complain about the shining star that emerged from your academy class.

“Let’s hope Tatooine has something.” You hope.

“Well now with you on the investigation team I know we’ll get shit done. And if not, I’m getting so close to blowing something up myself.”

“Hey now.” You playfully chide Monoma. “No threats of violence now, Jedi Knight.”

Monoma chuckles weakly but the comment draws blood at a barely healing wound.

A silence settles between you and your dear friend. Its heaviness over the call clogs your senses and painfully crawls over your skin.

“Miss you dummy.” Nieto coughs out through tears and you furiously blink back your own.

“Miss you too, you annoying ass.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Tatooine’s heat bears down unforgivingly.

The planet’s two suns stings your eyes. There’s even sand in places you didn’t think it could reach. But the liveliness of Mos Eisley, the commotion of the markets, comfort you and raise your spirits.

Under the dry air it feels as if you are resurfacing, emerging from a fog you have existed in for an entire month.

It’s invigorating, has you strolling through the markets with a relaxed ease.

Shouto and his smuggler, who is notoriously friendly with the Jawas, decide to check the junkyards first for any new information and leads. You instead head to the city to hopefully pick up any chatter about the temple.

After all, you are no longer in your Jedi robes.

So any fear of someone not speaking about the temple around you is gone.

Among the bustling marketplace in the heart of the city, a stall with shimmering jewels and trinkets twinkling under the two suns snags your attention. Specifically a beautiful iridescent gem like pendant immediately catches your eye. The jewel hangs off a simple sturdy leather thread and allows the stunning crystal to be center focus. Your fingers trace over it gingerly and fondly.

“Oh, are you planning to propose soon?”

The vendor suddenly asks intrigued and brightly curious. Her words make you choke out a wild dry cough.

“Excuse me?” You politely and weakly laugh.

“That’s an engagement pendant!” The older twi’lek woman beams excitedly with a twinkle in her eyes almost rivaling her jewelry.

“You have someone special in mind?”

The image of who you have in mind flashes fast. His striking black beskar armor, the electric orange and green trimming… his loud voice…

Your heart starts crumbling in your chest.

“No.” Your reply is rather hollow. “Just thought it looked beautiful.”

Whatever else the woman hears in your voice is enough to quiet any more questions she might have. You return to browsing the other jewels offered on the stand. But even with the beautiful craftsmanship before you, a slow poison seeps into your mouth and you try swallowing it back. But your heart remains an open wound thinking of that mandalorian.

And you think it always might be now.

The stall vendor who went silent now gasps so sharply it spooks you. You snap your gaze up to her.

Her eyes staring beyond you are wide and hypnotized.

“A mandalorian.” She whispers.

A terrifying dread runs up your spine. The rational voice screaming inside your head argues it could be any mandalorian, that you shouldn’t be getting this worked up.

You decide to see and prove to yourself that it is not the mandalorian haunting your existence.

When you turn off to the side -

You discover striking obsidian beskar armor, a beautiful ink dot against the shimmering sands.

Your heart collapses. Your legs almost buckle.

The familiar beskar helmet stares straight at you.

“Shitty Jedi!”

Then the mandalorian screams so gutturally loud that half of the market turns towards him.

You turn the other way and run.

Your heart races wildly loud in your ears, a horrifying war like drumbeat.

It can’t be him.

But in your heart of hearts you know it is. You would know it’s him in every lifetime, in any other reality.

In such a wild panic you can’t fully comprehend your focus. You even forget to use the force to run away.

A dead end hallway stops you in your tracks. Before you can bolt in another direction, a mandalorian descends down from the sky. He lands before you a fiery man of myth immortalized straight from his people’s creed.

“What the fuck?!” Bakugo screams at you raw and demanding.

“Stop screaming!” You hiss back but your voice already begins cracking.

“No!” He snarls back.

“You’re going to cause a scene.” You snap back harder and glare fierce at him.

“I don’t fucking care!” He punches out every word not wavering once. Standing across from you, Bakugo is an intimidating force so broad and filling up the space with his armor.

It’s a simple staring contest. No words are spoken for what feels like hours. A part of you wonders if maybe this is all just a heat mirage illusion brought on by your sad heart.

You end up sighing defeated.

You weren’t going to have this discussion, this reunion, here in an alleyway of the city. You and him deserved better than that.

So with a silent nudge of your face beckoning him to you, the mandalorian wordlessly follows you back to the hostel Shouto’s smuggler booked.

A rapid nostalgic haze tugs at you. This feeling of him so close to you, walking through a crowded planet is as if not a day has gone by.

Yet, an entire month hangs between you and him.

Thankfully your two travel companions are still out when you return to the suite. In the eerie stillness of the cramped room, you turn to the tense warrior.

“What are you doing here?” You don’t even have the energy to yell at him.

Out of all the planets in this grand universe, how did you have the luck of stumbling into this man here?

“That annoying fuckin’ blonde Jedi friend of yours.” Bakugo replies gruffly and his words rattle your brain.

“Wait, Monoma?!” You’re the one shrieking now.

The helmeted warrior nods.

“He told me you’d be here…” Bakugo’s voice trails off.

Even with the rabid confusion consuming your brain, you remember Neito was planned to be sent back to Mandalore. However, he never spoke about it with you. So you began to wonder if he ever did go. Now it makes sense and only confirms your suspicions.

“Why did he tell you?” Your voice wavers frustrated.

The mandalorian’s fist clenches. “Because I told him I needed to talk to you, shitty Jedi.”

The term claws at your soul.

“I’m not a Jedi anymore.” You flat out tell him.

A moment passes.

“Yeah…blondie told me about that too.”

Your heart drops. Of course Monoma told him. He always was a damn gossip.

All you can do is shakily exhale.

The memory still stings so raw.

Leaving your lightsaber at the ruins of the temple, crying with Neito over your decision, sitting with a thick confusion that had you in a daze for days…

“Why?” Bakugo asks, confused, dare you even say genuinely concerned.

“Why did you leave the order?” He clarifies.

The question you knew was coming.

The weight of its answer still feels too grand, too out of reach even for you. It’s like your heart and mind can’t fully comprehend into words the complicated sticky reason.

You tried to justify that your confusion mainly stemmed from the trauma of the temple attack and that you needed time to mediate, to heal. But the truth, your answer, is that you wanted more.

You wanted to yank off the shackles keeping you from reaching for him, that kept you from embracing every aspect of your heart.

So you half heartedly lie.

“I couldn’t wholeheartedly serve the order anymore.” Even stripped of the title of Jedi knight, your answer surprises you. So noble and composed as ever, a hard habit you think you might never fully be rid of.

“What’s that supposed to fuckin’ mean?” Of course Bakugo sees through your words, tries digging through them.

“It means what it means.” You reply back sharply. “I couldn’t stay in the order. I had too much on my mind and I knew…”

You knew that everything in you ache to break everything you were raised with. Because after you faced ruin and destruction, you ached to step forward into a future full of life without anything holding you back, without worrying if you were disappointing anyone or even yourself.

“I knew I couldn’t honor the Jedi.” You finish simply.

You were thankful those like Shouto and Monoma especially understood and helped guide you. They supported you even after your path diverged from theirs.

It’s why you would continue to still help look for the culprit who attacked the temple. You might not see yourself as a Jedi anymore but that didn’t mean you would truly abandon them.

So absorbed in your thoughts you don’t realize how quiet the room has gotten until Bakugo suddenly breaks it.

“Sorry…Knew how much it meant to you.”

It did. But you realized there are things that might mean more.

All you can do is weakly thank him.

You sigh again as the weight of this moment slowly curls over your shoulders and tries to dig past your skin.

“Is that why you left without saying shit? Without even saying goodbye?” His voice gradually fluctuates with tension and hurt. It shreds apart your heart with a jagged edge.

After you had woken up in Bakugo’s room, you stayed in a pretend sleep whenever he returned, not ready to face him yet. You couldn’t continue to keep bringing him into your path of trouble. Even after meditating, even after deciding to leave the Jedi order, you came to the same conclusion. You needed to leave this mandalorian.

For his sake and maybe mainly yours.

So you tell him how you managed to leave like a wordless ghost.

In your first true selfish act, in your first step at shattering your sense of self as a Jedi, you used the force to sense when Bakugo left. Once he was far away enough, you slipped out of the hut. Using the force to cause diversions, you bolted straight to the planet’s port of entry. After that you slipped away onto the next transportation shop.

You cried the entire time on the way back to Coruscant.

You do not tell him this.

Now the consequence of all these actions, your actions, stands before you hurt and anger forged in a man of beskar armor.

“You didn’t even tell me.” His voice cracks and your eyes blink through cloudy tears to stare at him.

You ache to see his eyes, to know what this man looks like.

“I have my reasons, and I’m sorry. I really am.” You apologize, wiping your tears away.

“Yeah? Those reasons better be real fucking good!” He snarls and you glare furious at this mandalorian.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You snap back like a cornered loth cat. You’re tired. You’re emotionally drained and the heat of the planet is catching up to you. You wearily move to sit on the creaky dusty couch.

“To have something control your life that keeps you away from someone…from somethings-”

You quickly correct yourself, but your voice continues wavering more and more with the frustrated tears threatening to spill.

“You’re so loyal to your own creed and I…I couldn’t face you.”

You don’t tell him the whole truth.

You don’t utter the truth that you loved him so much that it alerted your entire world. You wanted to let yourself love him against all odds. But, you wonder if this myth of a man could even possibly hold the same feelings towards you.

Every emotion tears you apart all over again. Inside of you rages a storm ripping apart every safe harbor you had built. All you can do is close your eyes to stop the tears from the storm raging.

“You said it kept you away from someone.” Keen as ever, Bakugo catches your comment.

That’s when you also notice his voice is closer.

Your eyes snap open and your heart drops into your stomach. The explosive mandalorian kneels before you.

“Who?” He asks calm, firm and surprisingly low.

You can’t even say his name and instead stare at him, stubborn and your tongue locked up tight

Bakugo says your name in the same direct tone except now with an undercurrent of urgency.

“Who?” He repeats again.

Out of frustration or maybe finally the weight of your emotions cracks you. Angrily shove away tears until you eventually cry into one of your hands not even able to look at him.

“I knew we could never be together.” You croak out a whisper. “You’re engaged. And with your creed, even when I stopped being a Jedi I just…”

The words escape you on another sob.

Large gloved hands suddenly rest gently on your thighs. Panic snaps your eyes open and there his striking black helmet stares unwaveringly at you.

Bakugo firmly says your name and you wait for the heartbreak that’s about to come.

“Marry me.”

It doesn’t.

“What!?” You ask through tears and snot.

“Marry me.” Bakugo repeats as unflinching and true as he did the first time.

“You… you’re engaged!” You stammer out.

“Obviously not! I’m in love with you but I’m not a fucking asshole! I wouldn’t have asked you if I was still engaged!”

His words knock you breathless, throw you out of orbit and you’re surprised your body has not floated away.

“You love me.” The words don’t sound real even from your mouth.

He coughs out a watery sound and moves forward. His bodily slots between your legs effortlessly. He curls against you and presses his helmeted forehead to yours.

“More than you know, shitty jedi.” He croaks while his strong arms wrap you in his embrace.

“Not a Jedi anymore.” You mutter watery as you clutch onto him.

“You’re not.” Bakugo confirms as he moves to rest his helm against your face.

“Be my riduur instead.”

During your time in Mandalore you picked up on plenty of Mando’a phrases and words. You even flirted with the idea of trying to learn the language fully.

You did learn some mandalorian words held a sacredness that set them apart because of their layered holy weight.

Riduur is one of those words.

It translates to wife, husband, spouse. But riduur held the weight of a partner forged in such a deep love that the basic term of spouse couldn’t capture the bond a mandalorian marriage would bring.

Your eyes widen and a storm of tears blur your vision. This time however, it’s the overwhelming overflow of emotion filling your heart and spilling over.

Nodding you holding onto him tighter.

You try joking about wanting to be the only one who gets to annoy him for the rest of his life. But your voice comes out a ridiculous sob.

Bakugo barks a wild chuckle and his arms tighten around you as well.

“S’why I asked you. Couldn’t put up with any other extra.”

Your eyes close right as you now hold onto your fiancé, and the thought of that makes your brain trip over itself.

“We’re getting married.” You mutter out mainly to yourself still not believing it.

“Damn right.” Bakugo growls low and proud.

“Congratulations.”

Your eyes snap open wide and horrified at hearing Todoroki’s simple flat comment.

Your mandalorian scrambles away from your embrace to instead lean in front of you, as if to shield you.

Standing in the door’s entryway is Todoroki and his smuggler friend who smacks your once fellow Jedi knight.

“I told you to keep quiet!” The smuggler cries out horrified at being caught.

You’re embarrassed. Bakugo is screaming obscenities but for some reason, you laugh. It’s a buyout laugh filling you bright and beautiful. That’s when the force suddenly surges through you warm and celebratory.

Earlier this month you thought it had slipped away. That even the force itself began to pull away because of your decisions.

But now it hums beautifully in and around your body, exhilarated and electric. You think you could power an entire planet.

You laugh and simply lean against your fiancé who continues to threaten to blast poor Todoroki out the window. But his hand suddenly reaches out to your knee and he squeezes it tight, reassuring as if to say I am here.

You came to Tatooine simply looking for a lead on the temple attack.

Now would be leaving it engaged with a mandalorian by your side.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Come back to my ship with me.” He mutters softly after you manage to drag him away to a local cantina to grab something to eat.

You don’t hesitate to follow him.

The inside of his grand sleek starship, modified to fit a whole room compartment, greets you like the warmest old friend. You even take a stroll around trying to see if he added anything new.

“So you wanna to get married now or what?” Bakugo simply asks.

Your mind feels as if he just set off one of his explosives inside.

“Now?!” You shriek shrill and chaotic.

“Yes now.” You’ve been with him long enough to know this tone suggests he’s rolling his eyes.

Trying to process this your mind sputters in a spiral like a broken speeder bike.

You understood mandalorians held certain courting rituals that you vaguely heard of. You voice this concern to your mandalorian who crosses his hands over his chest in a pouting type manner.

“That’s for potential marriage partners. We’re already engaged aren’t we?” Bakugo challenges.

“So we just skipped an entire courting process?” He seemed like such a traditionalist and would be upset over this. You even sound more upset than he does.

Especially when your fiancé simply shrugs.

“You’re not mad?” Now you have to ask and he shakes his head a casual no.

“Didn’t need to court anyone else.” He gruffy asserts confident and true.

So that meant jumping straight into marriage?

Whatever lies on your face, whatever is clouding your heart, your fiancé notices it and sighs.

He explains how Mandalorians typically didn’t have long engagements. When someone proposes marriage it’s with the acknowledgment they would be wedded moments or at the latest days after.

It mirrored the same direct quickness the first mandalorian vows were rumored to have been said in the creed’s legend.

“Look,” Bakugo continues with all the conviction a warrior pursuing victory holds.

“I know that’s my culture and shit but…We can wait whenever you’re ready.” He reassures you.

“I’ll wait for as long as you need because I know the ending s’always going to be the same. And that’s me as your husband. So if we do it today or fuck a year from now, I’ll wait.”

Love crashes into you in waves and you cannot fight the current any longer.

“So whenever you’re ready.” Bakugo’s beautiful beskar helmet nudges towards you. “You let me know.”

Now, you want to marry him now.

“Bakugo-” You are about to say your answer when he cuts you off.

“Katsuki.” He corrects you, a gentle firmness that speaks of his kind understanding.

His first name.

The most precious of gifts he can give to you and now here it is ready for yours to hold.

“Katsuki.” And you find to tastes like the most reverent prayer.

Mandalorian weddings, from what you remembered, were quick and privately intimate ceremonies. Here in his ship, away from his home planet and far away from yours on Coruscant, it’s as if this space is carved out just for you and him.

You don’t care about how long it’s been since you last saw him or that you only have been engaged for less than a day.

You want this, to be married to him, for him to be your husband.

And maybe it’s the shackles of the Jedi order being released from you but you want to be selfish. You want to grab at anything you want and greedily say yes it is okay to want without any guilt. It is beautiful to embrace it.

“Guess you’ll be the one having to call me Bakugo then huh?” You tease light but adoration coats your voice thick.

His shoulders tense. You can almost sense, almost see the suspended hope hanging on by a thread.

“So…you saying yes?” He tentatively ask.

You nod repeatedly and firmly.

“I want to marry you now.”

Katsuki walks closer to you, gently holding your hand in his.

“There’s this saying…” he begins low as if someone outside the ship might hear him.

He says a phrase and you can’t process what it is. You barely even pick up a word of Mando’a

“It’s a way we say I love you.” Katsuki explains. “But translate into basic it means something like… I’ll know you forever.”

To know is to love and to love is to know a person.

“That’s beautiful.” You admire and he nods silently.

“You know me, more than anyone else has.” Your mandalorian tells you. “And I know you. And even when I think I didn’t want to. I wanna keep knowing you for as long as I live.”

You swallow back a sob threatening to escape as you nod. You want that too.

He squeezes your hand.

“You ready?”

You squeeze his hand back. “I am.”

For a moment you think of the oath you took when you became a Jedi knight. How you swore to consecrate yourself to the universe, to a grand idea that would tie you to preserving an ideal and cause until your last breath.

Here you are now taking another vow, another oath, that you swear to honor for the rest of your days.

“Repeat after me.” Katsuki says and you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.

“We are one when we are together or apart.” He declares and you repeat.

We are one when we are together or apart.

“We will share everything.”

We will share everything.

“And…” he pauses for a moment, but quickly gathers himself.

“We will raise warriors.”

The implications are not lost on you. You knew how open the mandalorians were about adoption, about raising children communally. This was a topic you would have to deeply discuss with him.

But the idea of simply guiding and watching over any young ones, even if they were not your own, even if you and him decide to not have children, shifts your world. Because just being by his side to help guide the next generation as you grow old with him is more than you can ever imagine.

We will raise warriors.

Once the words leave your mouth suddenly a shaky modulated exhale escapes your mandalorian.

Katsuki breathes out your name.

His bare hands move to cradle your face and a wide range of beautiful emotions begin to bubble in you.

“You shitty Bakugo.” Your husband, your husband, croaks to you tear soaked. You laugh loud and just as watery as he sounds.

That was going to take some time to adjust to. But this, in every way, is better than hearing him call you a shitty Jedi. Because you are Jedi no more. And now you exist as a Bakugo.

The excitement and giddiness bubbles over, illuminates you from the inside out. Katsuki presses his helmeted face against yours as you embrace him tight.

“I love you.” You breathe out to your husband.

Katsuki squeezes you firmer. You simply exist in this moment in his arms soaking in the quiet but powerful conviction of this new existence. You are someone’s spouse. You are his, just as irrevocably he is yours.

Katsuki mutters out your name.

“There’s…still one thing we gotta do.” He adds.

Oh?

Slowly Katsuki untangles himself from you and you already miss his warmth. His shoulders slightly curl over and his helmet can’t even face you.

A tinge of fear bubbles in you fast and threatens to poison the barely moments old wedding bliss.

“I’m going to have to fight your ex fiancé for stealing you away, aren't I?” The idea that pops into your head so fast and quick you can’t even stop it.

The beskar helmet turns back to you.

Then, Katsuki bursts out laughing. A true warm gruff cackle that shakes his shoulders and makes you want to smack him.

“What?! That’s it, isn’t it!?” You shriek. You immediately dreadfully think of having to go hand to hand against the red and white armored mandalorian of Yui Kodai, who you only met once.

Katsuki continues to laugh even after you begin pouting. He even shakes his helmeted head a solid no.

“Fuckin’ love your ridiculous ass so much.” He breathes out a wonderful modulated sigh.

His hands move up towards his helmet.

And then he begins to raise it.

The action clicks instantly in your mind. In many cultures and customs a kissing vow is exchanged after weddings. You wondered if that was a secret only known by mandalorians.

So out of respect for your new husband you naturally close your eyes.

The hissing sound of his helmet being removed fills the small space of his ship. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the quiet but electrifying sound.

You wait for the pressure of his lips against yours.

Nothing comes.

The force even retreats away from you so softly like a loth cat returning to its bed to nap and you feel a chill in the air.

Katsuki sighs slightly shaken and heavy.

You’re about to ask if he’s okay, want to comfort him already when he speaks up first.

His voice crystal clear calls out your name.

“Open your eyes.”

The words clutch your throat and ignite an electric wave throughout your body.

“What?” You ask a bit confused because maybe you had misheard.

“You heard me.” Katsuki urges gruffly but gentle, so truly like him. “Open your eyes.”

You couldn’t.

It was against the code, against everything he stood for, everything his people stood for.

The surprise brush of his fingers against yours provides a solid stability.

“What?” He teases light. “Afraid of what you might see?”

No. That wasn’t it at all.

You even shake your head a furious stubborn no that makes him chuckle.

You know without even seeing him that he’s beautiful, probably one of the most striking forces to ever be seen in this galaxy.

“You know I can’t.” A fervent urgency leaks into your voice as if you want to remind both him and yourself of the danger behind this act.

Defiance, banishment, excommunication.

The words sting you fierce.

Like the solid lifeline he is, the back of Katsuki’s bare hand tenderly running across your cheek floats you out of your hectic thoughts.

“We’re married now, idiot.” His voice wavers. “Clan members are allowed to see our faces.”

Something deep inside of you shifts so effortlessly.

You are a clan member now. The answer hangs so truthfully and effortlessly in the air you almost can sense the force itself giggling at you.

You want to see him. You’ve wanted nothing more than this, to know him and know the face of your husband.

So you open your eyes.

The first week after you left the Jedi order, Shouto’s smuggler friend took you out for a drink. There on the sips of alcohol and the freedom it tasted of, you spilled your heartache.

“In love with a mandalorain.” The scavenger had sighed almost a bit apologetic. “And you have no idea what he looks like?”

You shook your head no.

“I have imagined it though,” you instead added boldly because you had.

At first you couldn’t picture what this man of fire and beskar, who would fight a galaxy with his bare hands, would look like. But for some reason you always pictured his eyes bright, like the fiercest force that could never be dimmed because that’s the type of man he is. You believed his eyes would reflect that.

And now you find they do.

The most stunning crimson eyes stare at you so openly, honest, hesitant and guarded slightly. The bold red color is beautiful. You don’t even think you’ve seen eyes so gemlike.

You think of how red for a Jedi is aligned with the sith. It’s not a color one wants to encounter in a lightsaber. There was even a legend that spoke of how the first red kyber crystal was created when a sith held a white crystal in their hand until they bled and let the color soak into the gem.

The color that was once a warning sign now stares at you as a promise of your future, wonderful and warm like the red sky in the evening.

It fits him too.

The color of war, blood and passion so vividly mixing with the color strongly associated with love…

You think you fall in love all over again with this mandalorian.

Then you finally soak in his entire face and feel your soul leave your body.

He’s handsome. Of course he’s handsome you knew he would be. But he’s stunning in a way that has your thoughts clustering together in a collision.

A strong sharp manly jaw, high cheekbones, and the softest spikes of blonde hair -

You can’t believe it. He’s a blonde. He’s gorgeous.

And he’s yours.

“You’re beautiful.” You croak out freely and tear soaked.

You get to see his emotions flash across his face now, see how his eyes shimmer so glossy as his eyebrows furrow.

“Shitty riduur, that’s my line.” Katsuki replies back just as thick and his hand now simply cradles your face once again.

What did the vows say? That you and him were now one whether together or apart?

That already seems to be so true. Or maybe it always was.

The way you and Kastuki seemed to both mirror and repel each other like planets trying to fight a gravity bigger than your orbits. Now here you are.

You can’t help it.

You laugh a watery jubilant thing and clutch onto his hand still resting on your face. You happily burrow closer into his hold.

Slowly but so firmly Katsuki draws you into him. His bare face goes to rest against yours. His nose even burrows against your forehead as he towers over you.

Shakily your mandalorian exhales, relieved and gentle and you melting into him more.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him. “For showing me…for letting me know you.”

Katsuki’s arms wiggle out to now wrap you in a true warm embrace.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mutters back and your heart jumps at his lips tickling against your skin.

“You smell s’good.” His molten syrupy voice seeps into the very core of your being.

Your mind feels cloudy but in the best way so much that you can only hum back a quiet thanks as you press your cheek against his warm face more.

He says your name and your eyes, which had closed in pure content bliss, open wearily.

“There’s…there's somethin’ else…”

What elses could there be?

Begrudgingly you draw back from his warmth and glance up at him a bit curious now.

It’s so interesting and even a bit funny to see how expressive your husband truly is now. His crimson eyes are averted from you. His pretty blonde brows furrow so hard and faintly a hint of pink begins to color his cheeks.

Embarrassed, he seems embarrassed.

You’re about to ask what he means when suddenly those gemstone eyes of his snap back to you quickly and fierce.

“I wanna kiss you.”

He flat out says it but with unwavering solid sharpness.

The thought almost makes your body buckle. You even almost choke on the sharp inhale you take.

“O-oh.” You stammer out.

“Yeah.” Katsuki mutters out low and slightly bashful.

At just the thought your eyes immediately flicker to his lips. You noticed them earlier of course when you first saw his face but didn’t want to stare. Now you find they are soft, plush and you want to press your lips against his more than ever.

“I haven’t…” your mandalorian begins then his voice trails off.

He hasn’t kissed anyone.

It makes sense. He’s so abstinent in his loyalty that he would never remove his helmet for a simple kiss.

And, for some reason that truth licks a dangerously warm heat up your throat that also seizes your heart. To know you’d be the first and only one to kiss him awakens something clawed and pleased inside of you.

Katsuki swallows hard.

He’s hesitant, embarrassed, maybe even worried. It paints his handsome face so easily.

Very cautiously your hand rises up to his face.

After having his face covered for most of his life out of instinct Katsuki immediately snaps his attention to your hand with a hard cautious scowl. You freeze, wondering if this is all too much.

But then realizing what you are trying to do, your mandalorain’s scarlet eyes soften instantly. When your hand softly rests against his face, mainly against his sturdy jaw, Kastuki exhales heavily as he closes his eyes.

The weight of this force of a warrior melts against your hand as he leans against it fully.

“You’re considered the best of the clans,” you begin. “The best out of all the others.”

“Damn straight.” He mutters out still looking like a blissful lothcat against your hand.

You hold back a chuckle that still manages to trickle your lips.

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” You reassure him. “You’re a natural and the best for a reason.”

But you also realize that yes, even though he said he wants to do this, this does not have to be done right now.

“Plus, there’s no rush…We can wait whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait as long as you need.” You repeat the same words he told you, feel their weight and devotion, patience and love, weave deep into your bones.

You even feel a smile tug your lips.

Hazily, almost sleepily, his eyes halfway open to stare out at you with such an intense warmth you feel as if you are staring into his heart's core.

He’s so unbearably gorgeous you almost can’t stand it.

Then without any warning, Katsuki leans forward and presses his lips against yours.

The surprise of him acting so quickly mixes with the surprise of finally getting to kiss him that you wonder if your heart is going to give out from the rush of emotions. But then your mind melts to simply solidify into this moment.

You’re kissing him, your husband, your mandalorian. You’re kissing Katsuki.

His lips are so soft, warm and the faintest smell of his herbal soap suddenly fills your senses.

Slowly his lips begin to pull back ever the slightest before you jump back at him with the same energy of acting without hesitation.

Your eyes close as pure bliss fills you to the brim.

Your lips meet his once, twice in sweet simple kisses but each time he presses closer and closer to you.

Katsuki’s lips now chase yours as if to ask for another kiss every time as if he wants to slowly kiss you again and again until he can’t any more.

You almost want to snicker, but you believe if you do your secretly tender hearted husband might storm away in embarrassment. But it’s not out of humor why you want to laugh. It’s out of a giddiness you can’t describe.

Until you realize the giddiness is simply love.

It is a love stitched into your bones and so overjoyed to finally be free, to finally be in this moment with the man with crimson sunset eyes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You came to Tatooine with Todoroki and his scavenger. You now would be leaving the planet with your husband.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just come back with us?” Shouto asks with the most intense sincerity in his dual colored eyes. He stares so directly into you wanting to gauge if you give him a secret sign saying otherwise.

“My ex jedi is coming home with me!” Bakugo barks back angrily at Shouto who ignores him flat out.

You laugh and even the scavenger who you now feel is slowly actually becoming a friend, laughs too.

You can’t thank this pair enough for what they have done for you. They gave you shelter when you were lost and aimless and a home when you had nowhere go. They became almost your strongest support system besides Monoma. Your heart would hold them tight together.

And when you bid them goodbye you hug the two of them just as right. You vow to contact them when you return to Mandalore.

Just because you are married now did not mean you would abandon any of your friends or the task of finding who attacked the temple.

As you watch them take a speeder bike to head out to the other city here on Tatooine you say a silent blessing to the force to keep them safe.

“When we get back home,” Katsuki mutters. “We’ll start figuring out what leads we can track.”

Seems like you would not be alone in your search.

Then the word hits you gently.

Home.

Mandalore would be your new home. Or mainly, Katsuki is your new home now.

Overwhelmed with emotions you turn back to stare at your husband.

Katsuki wears his helmet now but you can so clearly picture his handsome face composed with determination. You even itch to lean forward to just kiss the side of his curved helmet cheek. Instead you playfully nudge your armored husband who stiffens at your playful action. Then he nudges you back harder.

You snicker amused at how childish he can be.

“Damn weirdo.” He even mumbles out annoyed.

But his fingers continue to brush against yours as if to simply chase after your presence or simply remind him

how close you are.

The markets once again liven up the streets of Mos Eisely. You wanted to do one final look through the shops and vendors before your trip back. You even mention finding something for Monoma, specifically maybe that satchel he hinted about wanting.

“Fuck you and him are gonna be damn headaches together.” Katsuki even sounds as if the thought stabbed his side.

“Oh hush.” You chide him gently as you scan the market place.

That’s when you spot the familiar jewelry stand. The same elderly twi’lek woman is there working. Her eyes grow wide seeing you and then they eagerly flicker to the mandalorian with you.

Naturally you walk back to the stall.

“I’m thinking you might need that necklace now huh?” She grins wide and your face heats up.

“I was worried when I saw him chase after you but I should’ve known it was a lovers quarrel.” She adds and the thought of her being worried is endearing.

“Ha?” Your mandalorian asks so rudely and you lightly shush him as you buy the necklace.

The sweet elderly twi’lek giggles the entire time. Especially when Bakugou swoops in to hand the vendor credits.

“I could’ve paid for it.” You huff.

“No, cause that’s my job now.” He bluntly tells you like it’s the most obvious thing in this galaxy and you don’t even want to argue with him.

“Besides, s’nice.” He admires low, only for your ears.

“It’s an engagement pendant.” You explain. You even add how you’re just holding on to it until you can give it to him later.

“To mark our engagement and all that.” You casually and a bit cheekily say.

“We’re married!” He snaps back insulted and horrified that you’d even make the mistake of even forgetting.

“Oh you’re married?!” You’re not that far from the stall for the vendor to catch that. Or it could be that Katsuki is just that loud.

Either way you and him turn back to her. Her warm eyes shine with excitement.

You sleepy grin back to her. “So he says.”

“We are!” Your poor husband cries back furious.

You think this is it. This is the true blessing of getting to be married to this mandalorian for the rest of your life and that is getting to tease and annoy him.

You can’t help but snort. Then the rush of footsteps on the sandy gravel come towards you. When you and Katsuki turn back your dear vendor approaches with something in hand.

“Here, the companion piece!” She warmly hands you the twin of your necklace.

“Once someone gets married the spouse is meant to come back to retrieve the matching necklace so that the two are now together forever.”

It’s a sweet tradition and you happily hold the two necklaces together as you ask how much for both.

“Oh no young one, it’s fine.” The vendor waves you off warmly. “Think of it as a wedding gift from me and the city.”

You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, the pure genuine sweetness of it and the force even dances beautifully in the air.

“You’re too kind please let us-”

Before you can finish Katsuki moves beside you and places down two solid gold credits on the stall’s counter. That’s triple the amount that you paid and you’re pleased at your husband’s action.

The vendor exclaims in huttese and almost looks petrified seeing the money on her stand. She tries to sputter out something but you simply give her a warm thankful nod.

“Think of it as our thank you for the gift.” You tell her earnestly and even Katsuki beside you nods in quiet agreement.

With her heartfelt thanks you find yourself already walking back to the ship. Monoma’s satchel would have to wait for another day. Your eyes are focused on the two necklaces sitting in your grasp.

“I’m counting this as my wedding gift to you.” You say matter of factly to your husband.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, deal with it.”

He chuckles low at your reply.

“Moron.” Is all he says but you hear the truth happily buried beneath it.

Thank you, it’s wonderful. I'll cherish it forever…

You glance down again to look at the two necklaces with a fondness before you move to place them in your bag

“You’ll get your gift when we get back home.”

Then his words almost make you trip and drop your precious jewelry pieces.

“What wedding gift?” You ask again as worry leaks into your voice.

Even with the helmet on you know he’s staring dryly at you.

“What? You can get me somethin’ and I can’t get you shit?”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You reply back huffy.

He stays quiet.

“What did you get me?”

Again he stays silent and doesn’t answer.

“Katsuki.” You hiss out and you believe this ridiculous mandalorian is now grinning at you victorious.

“It’s meant to be a surprise, shitty Jedi!” He barks back and you’re too wrapped up in this conversation to even correct him.

“Shit…thinking about it, it won’t be a surprise when you gotta get measured.” He mutters mainly to himself as if he realized this fact.

The words stop you dead in your tracks.

You stare at him a bit petrified and confused. So all you can do is ask him again, low and even a bit serious about what he got you.

You’re thankful to have made it to the edge of the market and it is mainly vacant.

Because your spirit leaves you the moment you see Katsuki move to tap at his beskar shoulder pauldron.

And it clicks.

Armor.

He means to give you beskar armor.

[invisible-goats]

The crew of the Hasty Retreat arrived at Santísimo and sought out cooling. Wrench went to see his old friend Emmelia, a smuggler of exotic goods, but all she had in were alien porn and ancient "pleather mini skirts", whatever those are. However she did mention that her employee, Cammy Ishmael, had vanished delivering a valuable old book to Metis, a moon populated by a large number of niche religious groups. They agreed to go and look for Ishmael, though debated whether they'll sell the book on themselves rather than returning it, as they may be able to get more than Emmelia was offering.

They also heart of Iron Arm Tiffany, the famous privateer, looking for people for a special job. However they annoyed her too much for her to give details beyond wanting a data core from Indentiq, an ID and AI megacorp from Io, and decided not to get the job without more information (though Anathema isn't averse to stealing it once someone else has done the hard work)

Set sail for Metis!

[devoted1989]

65,000 non - human primates are used in laboratory experiments every year in the united states

Each year, more than 110 million animals - including mice, rats, dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, fish and birds - are killed in U.S. laboratories for chemical, drug, food, and cosmetics testing. In order for a drug to be approved in the United States, the FDA typically requires toxicity tests on one rodent species such as a mouse or rat and one nonrodent species such as a monkey or dog.

Around 65,000 non - human primates (NHP) are used every year in the United States, and around 7,000 across the European Union. No new biomedical research projects have been approved on chimpanzees in the US since 2015.

Macaques are now the most commonly used NHP - most are imported from China and Cambodia.

The huge demand for research monkeys and their rising costs have created a market for monkey smugglers.

While most macaques imported by the US are identified as captive-bred on paper, some experts believe that many of those in US labs have been trafficked from the wild as the illegal trade in wild-caught macaques is widespread. Sources state that prices vary from $5 000 - $20 000 per monkey.

NHPs are used because of their similarities to humans with respect to genetic makeup, anatomy, physiology, and behavior which make it possible to approximate the human condition.

NHPs are used in research into HIV, neurology, behavior, cognition, reproduction, Parkinson's disease, stroke, malaria, respiratory viruses, infectious disease, genetics, xenotransplantation, drug abuse, and also in vaccine and drug testing.

The NIH is the largest public source of funding for biomedical research in the United States.

Last year new U.S. law eliminated the requirement that drugs in development must undergo testing in animals before being given to participants in human trials. It allows the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to approve new drugs without requiring animal data.

Signed in December, the law doesn't ban the testing of new drugs on animals outright. Instead it simply lifts the requirement that pharmaceutical companies use animals to test new drugs before human trials. Companies can still test drugs on animals if they choose to.

And pro-research groups are downplaying the law, saying it signals a slow turning of the tide. Jim Newman, communications director at Americans for Medical Progress, which advocates for animal research, argues non-animal technologies are still “in their infancy” and won’t be able to replace animal models for “many, many years.” The FDA still retains tremendous discretion to require animal tests, he says.

- National Institutes of Health ( https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov), Science Direct, World Animal Protection, science.org, National Anti - Vivisection Society and HSUS.

Image with kind permission from The Ethic Whisper.

@theethicwhisper

[transingthoseformers]

I’m struggling to plot out my ideas so I thought I’d share a concept I’ve been sitting on but have no idea how to write: Smuggler Orion Pax.

I think it would be really fun if Orion started out as a simple dock worker with his friend Jazz and would help pass on Megatrons writings then work his way up to smuggling people who try and escape their caste. I’m always iffy about details but I have ideas just no idea how to use them.

Orion could meet many mechs this way. He could smuggle Ariel from Kaon who would tell him about some punk poet from Tarn spitting facts. He could upgrade and become a space/groundbridge technician and become a sort of spy on high society. I like the idea of him having some data cables so he can use those to forge documents or make copies of the archives collection to mass distribute to lower classes

Alas I can’t pick a decision

Ooo that'd be fascinating, yes on Orion with datacables

I vote the route with Ariel tbh

[sonicasura]

Different Paths: Optimus Prime

A series unique to this blog. Similar to my Trollhunters Path of the Familiar poll, it'll have three different mini scenarios per a character, the point of time where the major change occurs, and how it'll affect things in their respective universe.

For this one it shall be Optimus Prime specifically his Transformers Prime iteration. Well his Orion Pax incarnation as this occurs during those days. Either a feral Sparkling out in the wastes or the humble data clerk. After all, the start can cause the greatest ripples. Let's get begin!

Feralus Prime

There was an urban legend on Cybertron. A cryptid born from the wastes who made itself a den hidden amongst the populace of Iacon City. No one knows what the being was but the feat it perform garner an infamy unlike any other. Feralus stole the Matrix of Leadership.

Yup. A Feral Optimus Prime who didn't get integrated into Cybertronian Society. Orion Pax slipped out of Alpha Trion's grip during transport so the young Sparkling became lost in the big city. He stole what he can to survive and slipped away from whoever try to catch him.

Soon the fateful day came where Orion obtain the Matrix of Leadership. Did he steal it? Sorta of as lured would be more accurate. Orion Pax is like a feral dog before he got the Matrix. Skittish, quick to run, nab what garners his attention and most likely to bite if cornered.

Feralus/Optimus Prime is closer to a wolf with the Matrix of Leadership. He studies the situation, gauges the threat and acts with appropriate force. Instincts often guide where goes almost if someone is leading him. Optimus ends up on Earth by stowing away in a smuggler's ship.

He won't be lonely for long as a younger Raf will one day stumble upon the feral Cybertronian. Now Team Prime isn't actually a 'team' and is closer to refugees. Their contact with Agent Fowler can be chalked up to surveillance. Any serious 'Con activity is measure and handled appropriately.

Way more tight knit so events such as Cliffjumper's death is voided. Our three human protagonists become vital in not only getting Optimus socialized but ready for the encroaching danger. A lone wolf can't protect the entire pack after all.

Magnified Disaster

The Planet Cybertron has all manners of darkness lurking amongst the populace. Common thugs to corrupt politicians. There is a silent rule when it involves such folk. Watch your words. Or else you end up a twisted experiment like Orion Pax.

A conversation between Megatronus and Orion was overheard by the wrong person. On his way home, the data clerk is kidnapped for one sole purpose: experimentation. This latest test was the creation of a 'guard dog'. An enhanced Cybertronian bigger, stronger, ferocious and obedient.

*Anyone in the Madness Combat fandom knows what I'm about to do. For those who aren't, poor Orion Pax is going to become an unconventional MAG. A supersoldier created through mutation that's obedient to those they consider their master. Here's an example: normal Hank and Mag Hank.*

One fateful night, a certain grumpy medic stumbles upon a completely transformed and Energon blood soaked Orion. 35 ft tall mesh between Cybertronian metal and organic material consisting of crimson foreign clay like flesh, white sharp teeth, to pale spikes.

Ratchet becomes the altered archivist's caretaker and looks after him. Orion's personality remained mostly intact but his memories are spotty. As for the Matrix of Leadership, it became a desperate gamble to help stabilize the poor clerk's altered state.

Optimus Prime doesn't lead the Autobots thanks to his MAG status. The entire team are refugees who sought asylum on Earth. Unfortunately Optimus' past followed close behind as Megatron wants answers...and vengeance. Things come to ahead when three particular kids encounter the 45 ft titan that roams the desert at night.

Two Souls, One Body

Ever since the beginning, Orion Pax shared a body with 'Optimus'. A shapeless voice that serve as a guide and older brother figure to the young Cybertronian. It is only when the archivist came across the Matrix of Leadership did 'Optimus' become so much more.

Or Optimus Prime and Orion Pax are two separate entities. Anyone here watch Yu-Gi-Oh or know about the original protagonist Yugi Muto? In the show, an entity known as Yami Yugi lives inside a ancient Egyptian artifact called the Millennium Puzzle.

Through the puzzle, the two souls can switch control of the body. Or in this case Orion Pax can allow Optimus Prime to take over using the Matrix of Leadership. Just like Yugi, there are subtle differences that point out whose in control.

Orion's blue optics are a bit rounder and narrow if Optimus is in control. His voice is lighter when the shy data clerk manages their body. Finally Orion's battle mask has blue stripes that vanish when Optimus takes the lead.

This ability is mistaken for multiple personality disorder by almost everyone except for Ratchet, Megatron and Bumblebee. Only more observant or younger Cybertronians can notice the different air between both individual souls. A warm sunny day to a cool summer night.

The mystery of Orion Pax only begins to open when a certain red painted Cybertronian takes a different detour towards home base. Who knew three human kids are so good at hiding stuff? Ratchet needs a drink for the shenanigans to come.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later! Transform and Roll Out!

[sullustangin]

Finished Fic!

Pairing: Theron Shan x Smuggler

Rating: E (T this chapter)

Quick Quote:

Sana-Rae waved a hand, and an ancient medical file appeared.  It was not Eva’s. 

Theron took a step toward the information.  “That’s Revan’s file.”  He paused.  “It was part of the file I had to recover after the media broke.  He was housed in a machine for hundreds of years – they had to track his vitals for the Emperor’s sake.  Monitoring everything.”

Eva had a brief flash of a broken wrist and a medical evac for someone who shouldn’t have been alive.  And that froggy bastard that welched on the payment.  “I…I think I pulled that file – never read it, that wasn’t the job.  Just yank him and yank the memory bank of the life support machine he was hooked up to.  Figured the Pub would need it to keep him alive – otherwise why hire me?”

“Your prudence has rewarded us, many years later!”  Dr. Oggurobb crowed.  He nudged Sana-Rae aside and began his symphony of motion and data, his arms flapping almost enough to get some lift-off.   “The scientists affiliated with this feat of life support believed that the Emperor was utilizing the Revan patient to continue to observe this galaxy while he was attending to other matters.”

“Which ultimately turned out to be the reason why we’re here,” Theron filled in.

Oggurobb waved a hand in caution.  “I still must express skepticism as to the ability of any being to perform what this Emperor supposedly has.”

“Normally, I’d be right there with you, Dr. O.”  Eva managed a half-smile.  “I…have insider info that makes me give credence.”