#Cuy’val dar

[isurrendertoclones]

Jango: So it turns out that none of my first-choice trainers were willing to sign a contract for an unspecified amount of time on a secret planet and cut all ties to their former lives, soooo…let’s scrape the bottom of that barrel!

[onlymandos]

Walon Vau WIP, using an iPad Pro 3rd gen. 11” and procreate

[mrsfeiix]

Upgraded my mando oc

She’s part of the Cuy’val Dar and has a reputation equal or worse to Plo koon when it comes to clones.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Kamino

Clone Cadets being looked after by a Cuy’val Dar.

A/N: Finally got my first @clonexreaderbingo prompt done! Thanks to @a-single-tulip for inspiring 🥰 gonna drop this and go to bed, so hit me up if you see anything I missed.

Square: Kamino

Warnings: mention of blood, war, children, weapons, my own version of cadet training and fighting.

Word Count: 3666 😬

Cuy’val Dar: Those who no longer exist

Osik: Shit

Udesii: Calm down

Kandosii: Nice one

��ika: Little

Buir: Father

The rain lashed against your window, raging in the howling wind like it was trying to reach you. Each patter was faintly heard whipping into the thick transparisteel only to dash out of existence. The whole of this facility was state of the art, designed to weather the harshest of storms, protected to the hilt from catastrophic waves and jarring winds that would sweep you off the platforms and out to sea.

Your alarm started to buzz, an irritated grating noise that you had learnt to block out.

Everyday here was the same. The routine was rigid, structured down to the very minute, so the clones that were under your care got the most from their lessons.

With a sigh, you hauled yourself from your bed, glaring at the bright white that assaulted your eyes every time you blinked. Thankfully what the Kaminoans were paying you for doing this daily osik was enough to keep you going. And the boys weren’t that bad. Really.

Your armour was stacked up in the ‘fresher. You had barely needed it the last couple of years, having your arms full of babies and small children rather than weapons and other people’s appendages before you cut them off. Clutching the sink you steeled yourself to keep going, every morning was the same drag but as the day wore on it got easier. Until you fell asleep and you had to start all over again.

Slipping on a new set of fatigues you slapped your cheeks in an effort to startle yourself awake, trying to get that sharpness back that had been dulled from being in this white washed, aiwha-bait, infested hell hole.

First things first—breakfast.

The kids were awake by the time you got to their room and it looked like Fox had woken up on the wrong side of his bunk today. None of them even noticed you’d entered, standing in a circle as they chanted fight, fight to the two kids in the middle, really going for it.

You cocked an eyebrow when Fox slugged a decent left hook into the side of Cody’s face but the kid didn’t go down. He was dazed and Fox took advantage of that, yelling as he launched himself at his brother and flattening him.

Honestly. All before they’d even eaten.

“Udesii!” You pushed your way through the boys, hauling the angry red faced nearly four year old off the other and putting him in a rugby hold on your hip.

The others backed up, their caramel brown eyes wide as you glared at them all and suddenly they remembered what to do. Lining up, shoulders back, standing rigidly to attention. Cody groaned from his position on the floor specks of blood dripping from his nose or lips, you didn’t know, you didn’t care. Not this early in the day.

“Get up.” You grabbed his collar and got a look at his face as he sniffed and smeared the blood across his cheek.

“I’m ok, Sarge,” but as he spoke you could see blood between his teeth and you sighed.

“Go and see Mij,” you told him, shoving him towards the door. You still had hold of Fox who had gone remarkably still in your hold, he hung heavily and you knew he was hankering to get down. Being held like this was probably humiliating. So you jostled him into a better position and walked up and down the line of the others.

They were all identical to someone who didn’t know them. Their eyes were the same shade, their hair had the same cut, they could swap clothes and all still look exactly the same. You could tell them apart though. Noticing the slightly different shade of Rex’s eyes compared to Cody’s. Or the browner colour of Keeli’s hair next to the deep black of Wilco’s. And their personalities were all sparks from the same flame, some just burned hotter than others or channelled it differently.

“Rex’ika.” One of the boys stepped forward, sneaking a glance at Fox who was turning even more red as he hung his head as low as it would go. “What happened?”

Instantly they all started gabbing at once and you held up a hand, silencing them instantly. “I asked, Rex. Speak.” He drew himself up taller, pushing his shoulders back and you saw the frown marking his face.

“I’m not entirely sure, Sarge. I woke up to the sound of a scuffle as they had woken up first. Their shouting woke the others and that’s…” his shoulders sagged slightly but then he steeled himself and carried on. “That’s when we all got up to watch them.” Fox was getting heavy now, so you dumped him on his feet and he stood sullenly with his head down.

“None of you saw what started it?” You asked and they all shook their heads. “Fox’ika.” Crouching to his level you prodded his shoulder and he lifted a hand to rub his arm. “Why?”

“Because he grabbed my collar so he could get into the ‘fresher before me!”

“And that was reason enough to make him bleed, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” he pouted. “I didn’t mean to but he just made me so angry.” You sighed, shaking your head as you got up.

“Anyone would think I’ve got a bunch of Nulls on my hands,” you breathed. “Come on. Breakfast. Chop chop or you’ll miss out.” You watched them file out, Rex in the lead with Howzer on his heels, followed by Thorne, Wolffe, Keeli, Grey, Fox, Wilco and Bly.

This group of ten troublemakers were your boys for another a year before they joined the wider ranks. You oversaw their training, taught them to look after themselves as well as each other. It felt like you were failing at that at the moment.

You followed them to the mess hall where they each grabbed a tray and chose what they wanted this morning, sitting in neat rows at their usual bench and you joined them, feeling Cody’s absence.

“You’ve lost one,” a deep voice said behind you and you turned in your seat.

“Thanks for that observation, Jango. You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Fighting again?” He sat down at your bench with his son. Boba was older than your boys, (if you went by their visual age) only by a couple of years, but you could already see Jango’s influence over him. He glared at your cadets who stared at the older boy with wide eyes as they chewed silently.

“One’s in the medbay,” you said, chucking a haughty look at Fox who didn’t cow under yours and Jango’s combined scrutiny.

“I see the aiwha-bait hasn’t ruined them completely,” he murmured.

“They could be worse, I suppose.” You tossed the bland food back onto the tray, making a point to raid Skirata’s room for some uj cake for the boys later. “Eat up. We’ve got deecee training in 5 minutes.” There was a collective scuffle as they quickened their chewing, these boys were always hungry and you wondered if they had enough to eat at all times. But if you faltered in their training, they failed in their tests and then it reflected badly on you and they got punished. And nothing broke your heart more than seeing your boys with tears in their eyes because they didn’t achieve their best and they were made to relive that.

Exactly on the hour, they were lined up, dumping their rubbish and slipping their tray into a stack before heading off to the training area. This one was set in the middle of Tipoca, each area blocked off so multiple groups could train at one time. You and the rest of the Cuy’val Dar, working together to make an army. An army of children.

The boys spread out, Cody slipping in at the last minute and taking his place next to Rex. Each deecee was in pieces on the ground before them. The challenge was to make the blaster, correctly, and take out the targets before anyone else. Take the blaster apart and move onto the next weapon. Rinse and repeat.

“Go!” You barked, not needing to prepare them before your order, they knew the drill. You paced up and down, pursing your lips as you watched their little fingers deftly put together a weapon that could fell a bantha with one shot.

You heard the whir as the first deecee charged up successfully and Wolffe was off. His aim was perfect, it had been since he looked two years old. Next to go was Fox. The challenge now was for them to work effectively together, aware of each other in the field while staying on their main objectives.

Keeli was next, sliding in on his knees as he clocked a shot on the first target. Bly and Howzer went together, automatically splitting and taking opposite sides. You looked across at Rex, his gaze was on the cadet next to him as he waited for Cody to catch him up so they could go together.

Eventually they were all in the maze of targets and you watched their scores on the screen, leaning easily against the wall. Wolffe and Fox returned, taking apart their Carbines and turning to the rifles.

Not a word was spoken and you honestly wondered if they communicated telepathically. Sometimes it scared you how in sync they were but when they had the same brain patterns, getting the same training, some similar behaviour was inevitable.

Wolffe clocked the best numbers today, Fox not far behind and the rest were all fairly evenly matched. You tried not to think how they would soon be doing this with live rounds. And they wouldn’t be yours anymore.

You pressed some buttons as they waited patiently for the room to change, the droid targets disappearing, being replaced with a weapons wrack.

“Pair up.” Your commands were needless but sometimes you just needed to hear someone say something. Even if it was yourself. “Today we’re using blades.” The boys put on their contact sensors and each took a knife from the rack. Fox and Thorne, Wolffe and Howzer, Rex and Cody, Bly and Wilco, Keeli and Grey all stood there looking at you. “Ready positions.” You activated their sensors with a touch of a button and you saw them all tense. “Begin.”

You watched the hits increase on the screen, seeing Howzer was coming out on top today and you felt a sense of pride. Thorne was beating Fox, which probably wouldn’t go down well. Usually those two were thick as thieves.

“Switch!” There was a groan, Keeli tipped his head back, making it obvious he didn’t want to switch from Grey. Fox pushed him causing the cadet to stumble which started another fight. Before you could move Rex and Howzer stepped in, kids being adults.

“Udesii!” You stressed for a second time today. Spreading your arms as you stepped between them. “What crawled in your fatigues and died today?” But Fox just glared at you. You thought he was going to spill whatever was troubling him, but then he lowered his gaze.

“Nothing,” he muttered, shrugging off Howzer.

“Fine. Continue.”

There were no more incidents. They went to lunch and ate in silence, shooting looks at one another as Fox concentrated on his food.

You hated the way the ration cubes coated your mouth in a chalky paste but you made a point of eating what they did in the mess hall. If only the Kaminoans would vary it every now and again. Maybe you could bring it up with Jango. He was the golden boy after all.

After lunch it was study time. They sat at desks and just absorbed. It really blew your mind the amount of information they went through everyday. Lists of species, equipment they’ll be using including their kit, so when they finally grew into it they’d know exactly what they were doing. Ships and their specs, droids and their functions—it just carried on and on flashing before their eyes. They talked now, shouting facts to one another, answering questions and relaxing a little.

You let them. As long as they stayed on topic you enjoyed watching their interactions. Occasionally you sat with them, answering what questions you could but already painfully aware their knowledge surpassed yours dramatically. You were just a supervisor until they went up to the next level.

Dinner was more relaxed, they talked, laughed and acted like children for a moment. It made you ache inside, knowing their lives were going to be so short, bred for a single purpose that could make their lives even shorter.

It was getting darker, not that you could tell on this infernal, cloud covered hellhole. You were walking the boys back to their quarters when you came across Rav and her clutch of lads with their noses pressed against the thick transparisteel. They sounded excited, gasping and giggling as they pointed outside and you let your boys blend in with hers.

“What’s going on?” You asked quietly.

“Kal. He’s got his hands full,” she chuckled. You leaned to look outside, not seeing anything at first until you realised you were looking at a foot on the outside. Your eyes travelled up to see two young clones climbing the dome of the mess hall, in the driving rain.

“Kandosii!” You exclaimed with a grin, as Mereel caught your eye and gave you a quick wave. “Keep your hands on the line, boy.”

“I don’t know how Kal hasn’t died of a heart attack,” she muttered. “Come on, boys. Bedtime.” Her lads separated from yours and carried on walking in the opposite direction.

You led the way for your lot, listening to them talking about the Nulls like they were some sort of other species. But if the Nulls were causing mischief…it meant Kal’s room was empty.

“Inside…if I come back and you’re fighting or doing anything you shouldn’t, I will make you watch me eat Kal’buir’s uj cake. Got it?”

“Yes, sarge!” Came an excited, blended response and you nodded. Closing the door, you hurried off, keying in the code for Kal’s room and hoping he didn’t catch you red handed. Rather you’d let him assume it was his boys than you, not that he’d be mad. You just liked him wondering where all his food was going.

“Kandosii,” you whispered, dragging the sticky heavy cake out and slicing it up neatly. You were able to get five large chunks and halve them, pushing the cake back together so it didn’t look like any was missing. You’d done this way too many times. Wrapping up the slices you quickly exited his room and went back to your boys.

You found them sitting on their bunks, or sitting on the crate looking outside. Rex was happily swinging his legs over the edge of his bunk, a little smile alighting his face when he saw you return. They clamoured around you, excited whispers filled the room until they were all chomping happily. That would keep them quiet for a moment. But you had one slice left.

Fox was in his bunk, back turned to the room as he pretended to be asleep already. You even checked on him, putting a hand on his back and feeling him tense up.

“All right boys! Wash, teeth and then bed.” They took turns and you watched proudly until they were all settled in their beds. “Lights out,” you warned them, plunging the room into darkness save for the lightning that slashed through the room.

Back in your quarters you left the cake on the side. You debated eating it but something said, you were going to need it.

Sure enough, just as you started to doze there came a small noise at your door. Activating the panel it opened to reveal Fox standing with his hands behind his back. He scuffed the floor with his bare toes and refused to look at you.

“Come on then,” you sighed. He seated himself on the little sofa you had, his eyes watching every move you made as you put the cake on a plate and handed it to him. He didn’t take it and you gently sat beside him. “Fox’ika…you can talk to me.” His hands fisted in his lap and you gasped when he suddenly dived into your arms. His grip was tight and that’s when you noticed he was shaking slightly, so you put the plate down and hugged him back. Rubbing little circles along his shoulders as he quietly cried into your top. You murmured to him in Mando’a, letting him know he was ok while all the time hating this entire programme and what it was doing.

These boys had only existed for less than 2 years and already had seen and done more than the average human adult in their entire lifetime. The strain was immense, you knew because you could feel it, you saw it everyday. Just because they didn’t know any better didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle. They were human, real blooded humans after all and they needed some nurture amidst everything else.

“What happened with Cod’ika?” You finally asked when his emotions had slowed down.

“I was coming to see you,” he admitted straight away. “He was awake and saw me get up, I thought he was going to tease me…” he trailed off and you took a breath.

“So you punched him instead?” Fox sat up and rubbed his sleeve over his face, giving a shrug that told you everything you wanted to know. “Eat your cake.” He dived on the plate with relish, getting crumbs all over the seat but you didn’t care. Your attention was drawn back to the door and Fox looked at you with wide, scared eyes. “It’s ok,” you reassured him, slipping your blaster free of the holster that hung on the back of your chair. It was habit, to react this way, you didn’t trust the Kaminoans as far as you could throat them. You checked the safety and then punched the door open only to come face to face with a group of shining wide eyes.

“Is Fox’ika in here?” Wolffe asked, a slight scowl marking his brow. “His bunk is empty.” Howzer eyed your blaster with the gaze of someone who knew what he was looking at.

“A modified DE-10 pistol,” he rattled off.

“Yeah. Of course you knew that.” The safety clicked back on and they all exhaled as one. “Get in here before the aiwha-bait see you.” You checked the corridor and shut your door. The nine of them clambered onto the sofa, squeezing around Fox as he broke off tiny pieces of his cake and shared them with everyone. “Now, why am I getting the special treatment tonight?”

“We were worried,” Cody spoke up. “We thought Fox’ika got in trouble.”

“No one is in trouble,” you told them. Their companionship touched you and it made tears threaten to spring to your eyes. They fought like siblings, because they were siblings.

Their heads followed your motions as you crouched next to the sofa. “This, right here, I want you to remember it.”

“Why?” Asked Grey with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Because one day you’re going to be scattered. There’s going to be moments where you think nothing is worth continuing for. When you hit those dark moments I want you to think back to this, right here. The warmth in your chest,” as you spoke you prodded at Wilco’s chest and he suppressed a giggle. “The feeling of always having a brother at your side even when you fall out.” Now you prodded Cody and he had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Because no matter what happens you will all have each other, through thick and thin, through the battles and the sickening distance. Nothing can break this bond you have.” They all looked at each other, Bly leaned into Thorne and rested his head on his shoulder, Rex put his arm around Fox and the rest huddled in for the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Cod’ika,” Fox spoke up unprompted.

“It’s ok,” Cody replied. “Made one of my teeth wobbly, see!” They crowded round to get a look at his tooth that barely moved but he looked so proud. You bet Mij had told him the punch made it wobbly to make him feel like it was worth it.

“Come on, you lot. I need to sneak you back to your room.”

“Can we stay here?” Keeli asked quietly but the rest didn’t say anything, just turning one by one to look at you with pleading eyes. How could you resist?

“Ok. Ok, make yourselves comfy.” You went over to your bed, surprised when they came over and clambered over the sheets to settle in bedside you. “Oh, you actually meant, here. With me.”

“It’s cold in our room,” Thorne said. “Reminds me of the tank.” The others all murmured in agreement and you closed your eyes, laying back against the pillow and having your arms spread so at least four of the boys could lay on them.

The others pressed in around you and soon enough they drifted off, becoming heavy deadweights that cut the blood supply off to all your extremities. Still, you’d rather face down the entire population of Death Watch than move any of these sleeping troublemakers from your side.

Lightning flashed like a jagged spike, thunder curling outside as it wrapped around Tipoca. You had already made a vow to make these boys the best of the best, but now it burned hotter than ever. They deserved to be Commanders, Captains, leading the charge with their Jedi Generals. These boys deserved the finest gear and the best chance of staying alive. And you were going to equip them with everything they needed to survive. Even when they weren’t your charges anymore, they’d always be your boys.

[errantindy]

The legends Cuy’val Dar is the most likely candidates and that’s gonna be a mixed bag. At best ya got folk like Kal Skirata sittin’ his ade down to give them The Talk. From there, it’s “look it up on the Holonet,” death threats and physical assault if they ask, “don’t have sex, adopt This is the Way,” and I’m sure at least one cohort gets told “when cyare’ika love each other very much the mythosaur brings them ade.”

someone had to teach the clones sex ed and our options are aliens, space monks, and some bounty hunters who were game to cut ties with friends and family for 10 years with no explanation (excellent at healthy relationships)

[tinky-dinky]

The Cuy’val Dar

Following on from my Jango post, I want to talk about the Cuy’val Dar.

The same warning as that post applies. This is largely my speculations based on canon, but not actually canon.

A note about Legends canon: Unless it is directly contradicted by the current canon, I choose to include Legends canon as canon.

So, the Cuy’val Dar (Mando’a meaning those who are lost) are the trainers Jango recruited to train the clones on Kamino. There were one hundred of these trainers, and seventy five of those one hundred were Mandalorians. The other twenty five were probably bounty hunters and general mercenaries.

Of the seventy five Mandos, we only know the names of 12 of them. Two, Isabet Reau and Dred Priest, were Death Watch sympathizers if not full on members. The other 10 have no stated allegiance but it’s my speculation that at least some of them were True Mandalorians under Jaster and Jango.

There are two whom I am almost certain were True Mandalorians. Kal Skirata is said to have known Jango for years, so he was obviously at least affiliated with the True Mandalorians. He was found by his adopted father, Munin Skirata, when Munin was on a mission with a group of mercenaries. My guess is those mercenaries were Jaster’s people, and possibly even included Jaster himself.

Rav Bralor was a close friend and comrade in arms of Kal Skirata’s long before Kamino, so obviously if he is a True Mandalorian, it stands to reason that she must have been one too.

There are two others who are potentially True Mandalorians. Llats Ward isn’t stated to have any particular affiliation but his chest plate has a whacking great mythosaur skull on it, which is the sigil of the True Mandalorians. Of course, it’s also just a generally important symbol in Mando culture, so Llats could have it on his armour for entirely different reasons.

Miij Gilmar, the trainer of the clone medics, wasn’t born a Mando but became one after he married a Mandalorian woman. She was murdered, unfortunately and he vowed revenge. It’s noted that he had a deep hatred for the death watch allied Dred Priest and Isabet Reau. My speculation is that his wife was killed by Death Watch and he may have joined (or already have been part of) the True Mandos to avenge her.

There is one more trainer I want to discuss in detail. His name is Cort Davin, and he was a Journeyman Protector on Concord Dawn. Obviously this is the same profession as Jaster and Fett Sr, so this suggests he may have been a colleague of theirs. It does seem that he stayed in the Journeyman Protectors until he was recruited into the Cuy’val Dar, so I don’t think he was a proper member of the True Mandos, but he could have been their ally.

We know virtually nothing of the remaining five named Mandos of the Cuy’val Dar, B’arin Apma, Swart Swifto, Wad’e Tayhaai, Vhonte Tervho and Walon Vau. I have no idea if any of these people were True Mandalorians. It’s possible.

A side tangent about Wad’e Tay’haai: one of the few things I could find about him is that his preferred weapons were a traditional Mando spear and a bes’bav. A bes’bav is a Mandalorian flute that doubles as a stabbing weapon. Of course the Mandos have a musical instrument that is also a weapon. Of course they do. It makes me wonder how many other musical weapons exist in Mando culture. And how many other things Mandos have made into weapons. Many, many things probably.

Anyways, this brings me onto the point of this post: why would any True Mandalorians would agree to train the clones despite it going against their well established code of protection over children? And how did Jango feel about these people that were once his?

It’s my personal speculation that any True Mandalorians that joined the Cuy’val Dar on Kamino did so for a number of reasons. The New Mandalorian pacifists were in charge on Mandalore, so anyone wishing to keep their culture couldn’t stay there. I can’t imagine that Mandalorians are welcomed in many places in the galaxy, so it’s possible some of them joined because it guaranteed a place to live and a source of income and food.

Some might have joined out of loyalty to Jango. Perhaps they thought he wouldn’t allow the clones to be treated badly and by the time it became apparent that he would, they couldn’t back out. Perhaps they wanted to help him and therefore help the clones.

I doubt any of them were actually told what they were being recruited for. It was a secret, after all, and I don’t think telling a bunch of Mandalorians ‘there’s a facility where they’re cloning children to be trained as child soldiers for a war in which they’re likely to die’ would go well.

Honestly, I just find the Cuy’val Dar quite interesting. Who are these people? Why did they agree to come to Kamino? What did they feel about the clones?

[tesalicious2]

Command Clone Currency

The clones are unpaid and therefore broke. They can’t really pay each other to do things since they have no money so they go for a new currency: favors

Now, the CTs don’t really do it the same as the Commanders because they have to be specific. They can’t return a favor between battalions quickly, due to fighting/locations/schedule. They’re at the whim of the war and pick and choose their repayment time.

The Comanders are different. They trade and barter like crazy. It’s favors with a few cases of alcohol. They can trade favors they are owed to others all the time, so anyone can cash it. They can pull the strings to get their payment quick.

For example, Cody needed a save from a small squad. He knew Delta was on planet doing some mission and he needed a detour but he had no connection or favor. However, Fox (for some reason) did. Cody offered a case of spotchka and a favor Monnk owed in return for having Delta do the detour. Delta owed fox one less favor, Cody owed no favors (which is the best outcome, since Fox WILL cash it) and Fox got something on Monnk and free (very expensive) spotchka.

Few CTs knew they did it this way, and the CT captains such as Rex and Keeli had to quickly adapt to this way of thinking. Rex made the mistake of owing Bacara before anyone told him. Keeli was lucky enough to meet the SpecOps CC Blackout, who clued him in on the difference but left him high and dry when it came to implementing his knowledge. (Keeli ended up owing Blackout two mini guns for his ‘friendly advice’)

Though, when times are tough and there is little time to barter, it is common to put off the payment until after the act is completed. Though many hate doing this as the trading can become unfair. What often happens is the party in need already has a deal prepared and states their need and their payment, it is hardly ever contested (however the helper may tack on another fee which is accepted or denied).

For example, Doom needed backup from Jet’s flame troopers. He quickly called, stated his need, and his payment of a case of charges. Jet had found the payment (though correct in price, unpractical for his squad) and changed it to half a case of fuel (easier for Doom to get a hold of and just as useful as charges to a Demolition team). Doom accepted the terms and Jet’s squad arrived right on time.

Though the bartering is mostly physical, many deal in the intangible. Perfect examples are all of the Coruscant Guard and the Special Operations teams. These are the only two groups who has everyone (including CT shinies) in on this system. They have the least to offer when it comes to normal ops, after all what GAR commander needs to know where a random Senator is going to be at what time or who slept with who. However, this trading info is perfect for the Guard who constantly works with/against (yay embezzlement and blackmail) these same Senators and for the SpecOps who need to know political climates and interpersonal relationships for recon and assassinations.

Most trading goes on between those two, and their prices are often higher since the missions are higher stake. Often Commando Squads are up for bids (who doesn’t want a four man 100% mission completion rate squad in their pocket), blackmail on natborn officers, republic secrets, senators schedules, crime syndicates favor and areas of interest, etc.

For the Guard, their trading goes further. They work with crime syndicates to keep it off the streets while keeping profit up. Those who do not work with them, go down. They’ve gain control of the lower 2000 levels through this and those who do not conform are forced to by the Guard or the citizens of the lower levels who don’t want to deal with the Guard, (peer pressure and bullying at its finest.)

The commanders learned this from watching the Cuy’val Dar, who would often trade on Kamino. The Alphas picked it up and used it but the CCs truly made it valuable beyond belief. The trainers traded for free shifts and booze, the CCs traded for mission successes and heavy artillery.

Many CTs attempt to learn how this system works. However, as few know it’s different, even fewer see the affects; those that do, know well enough to leave it be.

Despite there being no real difference in intelligence between the CCs and CTs, witnessing the speed and weight of the trades, makes even the Jedi’s head spin.

The Padawans are one of the few outsiders to see it in action. They do not really like it, but many pick it up for lesser trades (help with this paper or answers for this homework). Cal Kestis surprisingly picks it up the best. He’s the youngest so very impressionable, eager to learn, his CC Commander Steel, is very good at it, and Steel is possibly the only one to teach their General’s Padawan.

Steel sees that Cal isn’t going to be on the field much (Steel agrees with this and makes sure he stays on the Venator). So, if Cal ever needs help, he knows how to get it. Steel has made him be present for several trades and even made him come up with theoretical ones. Cal becomes very good at it, but is unable to flex his skills much due to the other Padawans unable to match his speed or skill. They are several years older, see it as in-Jedi like or are bad at it (or their Captains are bad at it and can’t teach them well), their concept of value is off (Jedi don’t often put a price on things and those that do have a habit of underselling due to being nice), and/or they do not know the range of what can be traded.

It’s very personal, with different Commanders wanting different things. Knowing who wants what can often make the payment cheaper for the offering party.

For example, the Marines often need heavy snow gear and blankets. So, offering a box of heating blankets in return for a case of bacta and blaster packs. This is a much better deal than offering a case of mini guns for the bacta and blaster packs. In the second case, Bacara may say no the mini guns or want a case of something else along with the mini guns.

[arliganzey]

KRAD YES WE’VE BEEN HANKERING 😭 These are beautiful thank you!!!

there's a few of you SW fans who found my repcomm art (hi!)... i've deleted most of it from tumblr (for unimportant & ancient history reasons) but you can find a few more pieces in the tag via the above link to my archive if you're hankering for some more of the cuy'val dar ;)

[trudemaethien]

Kyrimorut

I’ve just done another reread/skim of the repcomm books for details of Kyrimorut for @ossidae-passeridae, who encouraged me to do a write up for reference. Some of these facts are explicitly stated, scattered throughout the series, and some are my own surmises. (My main conclusion is that KT considered architecture just about as carefully as the TCW creators did the GAR ranking system. lolsob)

So. In this essay I will

Kyrimorut, Kal Skirata’s refuge for his clone sons, was called a bastion, and frequently described in siege terms. It was also referred to as a homestead and a farmhouse.

“It was yaim—part barracks, part hotel, part married quarters, part farmhouse, the archetypal Mandalorian clan home.”

This stronghold was located in the heavily forested northern hemisphere of the planet Mandalore, a few hours flight north of Keldabe City, within 100 kilometers of a small town called Enceri, and just south of a lake. It boasted a main house and numerous outbuildings, including at least one medical laboratory, animal pens, and a hangar large enough for multiple craft.

Rav Bralor, another of the Cuy’val Dar, rebuilt it at Kal’s request during the war, and it was finished enough by a year in, to house some members of their group temporarily, but was still undergoing renovations up to the last moment before they moved in. She used droids to aid in the construction. The building was composed of brick, wood, stone, and rammed earth, and the (probably local, veshok) planks were joined with interlocking joints. The interior walls were plastered and painted, likely with naturally derived mineral paints; one room was mentioned to be “honey-colored.” The windows were narrow, described as arrow-slits, and the doors were unpowered hinged wooden slabs. The whole thing was large, and the rooms were characterized as airy and roomy at various points.

The layout seems to have been vaguely circular, or a circle of chained hubs, with a central karyai. The lobby was another hub, and there were both surface and underground passages connecting the hubs, radiating out like “the spokes of an eccentric wheel.” For this reason I think there were two floors in the main house with one above, the other underground. There was also a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back, where they roasted meat.

The house had gutters and down-pipes to deal with snowmelt and rain, and given the nearby lake, they would have to have a good vapor barrier for the underground portion. Since the place was rural rather than urban, it was largely quiet, and the homestead's acoustics were such that sound carried well. This indicates to me that likely only the exterior walls were fortified of heavy stone and rammed earth; interior walls were more likely built of wood and plaster and easier to modify if they had some need. Power was unreliable in such a remote setting, so they used wood fires for heating and cooking; everything smelled of wood-smoke. The entire structure was designed to be unnoticeable from the air, and the clearing was not visible until the last moment upon aerial approach.

The karyai was the main living room. In one scene, Kad played on the floor with toy animals (nerf, bantha, shatual, nuna, jackrab, vhe’viin) Atin had carved from veshok wood, Wade Tay’haai played a purple-painted bes’bev (sharp flute), and Rav Bralor brought throat-searing tihaar for everyone. She lived on her own clan’s farm a few kilometers away, and had brought Yayax squad, who mostly stayed there, to visit Kyrimorut. They were learning carpentry from manuals, as one does.

People had their own rooms for sleeping, with couples sharing, along the corridors. Arla and Uthan’s rooms both had exterior windows. Quarters were pleasant, plain but comfortable, with generous mattresses on the beds and a table for personal use.

Then there was a room Etain thought of as the interrogation room, so that’s uhhh lovely.

It’s unclear whether the large table where they gathered for communal meals was in the karyai, the kitchen (which was separated from other areas by a door), or some other room. Wherever it was located, it was possible for someone seated at the table to lean back without getting up and fetch a bottle of tihaar from where it was stored. The table was made of a single large slab of veshok wood, and was big and sturdy enough to use for surgical operation, dismantling engines, or seating a whole clan of armored Mandalorians. They sat in chairs around this table, and Kad sat in a highchair. They used porceplast plates, and mugs for ne’tra gal, a sweet black beer. The head of the household summoned everyone to the table for meals.

The kitchen contained a fireplace and hearth, a chair (where Kal slept), ovens and stovetops, a conservator, enough workspace for at least four people at once, and an adjoining storage area. The kitchen could be a busy, noisy, bustling place, but it was separate from other living areas; people sometimes went there to avoid others.

The 20-30 occupants ate constantly and prodigiously, and never seemed to be lacking. The food was described as filling but not elegant, and was heavy on the protein. They consumed a lot of game; Lord Mirdalan the strill was an animal native to Mandalore and a hunter. Roast shatual, nerf, and roba were mentioned, and they would leave a joint of meat on the table to be eaten all day down to the bone (I shuddered in food hygiene). Fish from the lake were fried in a pan, and they made broth from gihaal, dried smoked fish with a pungent aroma stored in metal containers, one of the staples of Mandalorian ration packs because it kept for years without refrigeration. Also what Kal called Kaminoans, but that’s another story!

We were worried they only ate meat for a while until we came across some vegetables. Kad had pureed kaneta at one point, and for breakfast boiled grain porridge and shirred eggs were on offer. Jilka diced amber root for some dish. Mealbread rolls were also plentiful, and there was a vat of stew at one point. Listed imports via Ny Vollen included flour, grassgrain, pickles, powdered milk, sacks of denta beans, soap, dried fruit, and a bantha bone which was hard to get on Mandalore. The roba they raised themselves.

The roba pen had multiple animals witht at least one boar and one sow with a litter, and despite having veshok posts and walls, the gate was left open. I’m extrapolating that these animals were semi-domesticated and allowed to forage for food but came home to their pen for safety at night. There were rail fences, crop fields, and plans for raising nerf on the property as well. Outbuildings were mentioned frequently, but this was one of the few actually described.

Notable native species mentioned were the large, ancient veshok trees, which were evergreen, hardwood, and straight enough that the table slab was cut out of one large piece. They were ice-glazed and dripping in the spring thaw, so presumably had some defenses against freezing and exploding, or breaking under the weight of the ice, and they populated all the way up to the the polar cap. There was underbrush and bushes, and groundthorn weed, which was very stubborn and difficult to remove entirely. The roba would have helped with uprooting this as they foraged. Vhe’viine were small rodents with white winter coats that lived in burrows in the fields.

The medical laboratory behind the main house (it was necessary to walk around the bastion after exiting to approach it) was a mobile genetics lab/agricultural trailer of the sort usually used for breeding livestock and at racetracks. It was occupied first by Ko Sai and later by Ovolot Qail Uthan. Mereel acquired it, and Mij Gilamar stocked it with stolen/black market medical equipment. When Uthan took over, they built her more lab space. There were rural veterinarians in the community as well; Etain mentioned getting a cryocontainer for a sample from a neighboring farm.

The hangar was situated in a shallow slope to the north of the main house, half-buried in the soil and disguised with netting. It was large enough to house several craft at a time, including Ny Vollen’s ship, Mereel’s speeder, and the Aay’han, among others. Swabbing down the compartments of the Aay’han, replenishing stores, and prepping the ship for the next flight managed to occupy most of an afternoon for four men.

The lake was also to the north, and I believe it was a very large lake, functioning as a heat-sink. It had not fully frozen despite the bitter winter, described as minus eight and thirty degrees colder than tropical (although the temperature scale is not mentioned, it’s likely celsius because of the author’s background). There was ice extending from the shore like a pier, but also mist rising above it in the early morning and frost on the shore, even though layers of snow deep enough for feet to crunch through the surface were mentioned elsewhere at various times. This led my friend to speculate that there could be geothermal activity in/under that lake. Kal and Walon Vau were planning to build a memorial on the near lake shore featuring the armor tallies of fallen clone soldiers.

There was granite in the area, which also gave support to the concept of historical volcanic activity. Their yard sported four chunks, each large enough for at least two people to climb up and perch upon, which had erupted from the surface long ago and been worn down to a weathered polish. Winds came in off a nearby plain. A clear (muddy) area large enough to play mesh’geroya was also near the house.

Enceri had at least one cantina, there was a landmark grain silo at the edge of town, and it was big enough to host a bustling market square, despite being described as more of a trading post than a town. There they could buy, among other things, preserved vegetables, engine parts, and local triple-distilled tihaar, which could double as degreaser for said engine parts.

If they needed more than Enceri had to offer, they could go south to Keldabe. Landmarks of note there included the River Kelita and the Oyu’baat tavern. The Imperial garrison was located near Keldabe.

“But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor.”

Established clan homes seem to be the usual way of things despite Mandalorians supposedly being nomadic. Their “temporary” structures being wattle and daub also indicates the nomad thing to be a bit of a fallacy. Even so, they had planned a possible relocation for Kyrimorut in the worst case, a bolt-hole on Cheravh. Jaing had taken to calling it offsite hot standby.

So that’s Kyrimorut, which means Final Haven, where Kal Skirata and his chosen family hunkered down in the aftermath of Order 66. My friend says it’s basically Aberdeen, down to the detail of players getting plastered mid footie limmie game. I gathered these details from four books (Hard Contact does not mention Kyrimorut) and compiled them for anyone who’d like to make use of the rundown. Oya!

[momojedi]

— KILLER MACHINE

bad batch x gn! imp! reader

chapter one. the division

“Clones?”

My face falls at the sight in front of me. There, on the opposite side of the mirrored glass, my future division is properly lined up in full, black gear; armour I’ve never seen on a clone before. Doctor Hemlock chuckles before moving away from the window and pacing down the hallway. “Not just any clones,” he hums, clasping his hands behind his back as I follow him under the watchful eye of the clone commando accompanying us. “A reconditioned kind. Specialised for the kill.”

“Sir,” I pipe up, trying to keep up with his fast strides, “Clones are a loyal specimen and possibly even the best soldiers we could’ve asked for during the war, yes, but I’m not sure they’re fit to be assassins—“ He cuts me off.

“Oh, they are.” His voice is laced with confidence, leaving little room for doubt and I hesitate before shaking my head and letting my stubbornness slip.

“With all due respect, being an assassin requires far more than just killing. It’s about precision and stealth, both things clone soldiers aren’t exactly known for,” I fight back, motioning toward the soldiers with a wave, “I’ve looked over the Cuy’val Dar’s records from Kamino before, there’s a reason I never worked with them during the wars; most of the troopers performed weakly in those areas, mediocre at best!”

With a sigh, Hemlock stops and turns to face me. “This division underwent extensive reconditioning and rigorous training to ensure full success in the field. Every operative within this elite unit possesses unparalleled expertise, from precision marksmanship to covert infiltration,” he then towers over me, cold eyes penetrating my soul in a judgemental manner, “You have been selected to lead these specimens to success and the Empire expects no less of you. Have I made myself clear?” A chill runs down my spine at his tone and suddenly my mouth goes dry.

I have never been a people person, always working alone and always triumphing alone. Even during the days of the Republic, the Jedi knew better than to pair me up with their people after requesting my help for a mission. Putting me in a position of leadership and responsibility for an entire division is … scary to say the least. But when the Empire wants something from you, it’s better to comply than to step back and so, I swallow the fearful lump in my throat and nod slowly.

“Yes sir.”

Hemlock smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile as he breathes out. “Wonderful.”

Suddenly, the piercing ring of a commlink catches our attention and he raises the small cylinder. “Sir,” a female voice pipes up at the other end of the line, “the Kaminoan scientist is requesting your assistance.” Without responding, Hemlock the commlink back in his pocket and then faces me again. “It appears I am needed elsewhere. RC-1262 will meet you here tomorrow at 0600 sharp for briefing.” He fiddles with the black glove draping one of his hands, ready to turn his back on me but not before giving me one last warning glance. “Remember,” he starts with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “failure is not an option. The Empire demands excellence, and I expect nothing less." His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and consequence. As he strides away, followed by his clone commando, I'm left with a sinking feeling in my chest.

[the-starry-seas]

Last Line Challenge

after working on a big bang fic for forever, i'm getting back to some of my other things 👀

The Cuy’val Dar are arriving today, and Jango already regrets it. He’s spent the last two years finding the right candidates. Mandalorians, mostly, though he never sacrificed quality for– for what? Heritage? This is no New Mandalore, like Jaster once talked of. This is nothing his father could ever be proud of. This is nothing he can be proud of, either. But it’s what he has.

since the last time i did this, i've been tagged by @mamuzzy, @adhd-coyote, @loverboy-havocboy, @airlockfailure, @merlyn-bane,

@hastalavistabyebye, @whiskygoldwings, @insertmeaningfulusername, and @indira-korr

and i am tagging all of you back :3

[vodika-vibes]

Convenient

Summary: Now that the war is over, you should leave Kamino. But, well, Kamino is just so damn convenient for you. And Alpha-17 has some questions.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader

Word Count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive

A/N: I'm in a Fox mood, but I can't think of an idea for Fox, so I wrote for Alpha-17 instead.

Divider by saradika

You hate Kamino.

You had the hospital white walls, and the way it always smells like antiseptic and soap. And you really hate how the Kaminoans look at you like you’re somehow lesser than them.

As if you’ve ever been lesser than anyone a day in your life!

Still, you are very well paid for your services, and Kamino does not have extradition treaties with Republic planets, which is the whole reason that you agreed to take the job in the first place.

You are a thief. Well…a con-artist, really. And you are very, very good at what you do. The Kaminoans don’t know that…though you’re fairly sure that Master Ti at least suspects that you’re not what you claim you are.

Which is categorically untrue. You started your career as a Hacker, after all. Which makes you more than qualified to teach. Well, sort of. Technically your qualifications are all fake, but you’re the only person who knows that.

But now the war is over, and technically you can leave Kamino, and the judgemental Kaminoans, and the even more judgemental Jedi…but you don’t want to. 

Partly because Kamino still doesn’t offer extradition to Republic planets, but mostly because you’ve become attached to your kids, and you don’t want to leave them.

But right now you aren’t working.

Right now you’re sitting in a communal kitchen, curled up on the one comfortable couch, with your gaze focused on a datapad.

The young Queen of Naboo is throwing a gala in two months and there’s going to be a stunning dagger on display and you want it. Conning someone from half a galaxy away isn’t that hard, really. Not so long as you prepare.

You don’t even look up when you hear someone enter the room.

“You do know that you have a room, right?”

“Oh, is that what that room is? I hadn’t realized.” You reply lightly as you type a few more things, and then turn off your datapad as your plan goes into motion.

“What are you doing anyway?” You look up at Alpha-17, who watches you from the corner of his eye as he makes some more caf.

“A lady never reveals her secrets, Alpha.” You reply lightly, as you adjust on the couch and watch him with a secretive little smile.

Alpha-17 is one of the oldest clones. He also has the honor of being the most dangerous man on Kamino, and the most stubborn man you’ve ever met in your life. And you’ve met a lot of stubborn men over the years.

He watches you, all the time, and he’s not subtle about it at all. Likely because he believes you’re a threat to his brothers.

You respect that about him. Grudgingly, at first, and genuinely as time passed.

And, over the years, that respect has grown into a genuine attraction.  

He turns to look at you, “A lady, huh? Didn’t know there were any ladies on Kamino.”

“Then you must not be looking all that hard,” You reply as you smoothly untuck your legs and stretch them out in front of you, “After all, Shaak Ti and myself can hardly be compared to the…hm…thugs that made up the cuy’val dar, no?”

You smother a grin when you notice his gaze drag down your legs, and then back up to your face, “Well,” he says roughly, “General Ti isn’t a thug.”

“Oh Alpha,” You practically purr out his name, and you feel a surge of triumph as his gaze snaps to your lips, “I’m hurt.”

“You’ll get over it,” He counters, “You don’t look that upset. In fact, you look downright thrilled.”

“Well, I do enjoy talking to you, Alpha. No one else gives me the time of day. Except, of course, for my babies.” A fond smile crosses your face as you think of the dozen or so boys who lovingly call you mom.

“Maybe they’d be more willing to talk to you if you didn’t call them thugs,” Alpha offers sarcastically, as he walks over to you and stands close. Close enough to be uncomfortable if you were any other person.

“They are thugs.” You reply blithely.

“And that’s why no one here likes you,” He says.

“Hm…including you?” You ask as you smoothly push to your feet, allowing yourself right into Alpha’s personal space. 

And Alpha, who’s never backed down from anyone in his life, merely raises a single brow. “Why do you care if I like you or not?” He asks.

“Well, we are co-parenting, dear.”

He takes a sharp inhale, and you don’t even bother to hide your amused smile, “We’re not co-parenting.” He says after a moment.

“Agree to disagree then.” You say lightly, and then you gently tap his arm, “Excuse me.”

He moves to the side, allowing you to pass, but before you can make it to the sink, and grabs your wrist and spins you around fast enough that you’re off balance, “What are you working on, mesh’la?”

“Just a game, Captain,” You say to him, completely unafraid even though it would be so easy for him to hurt you, “No need for you to fret.”

His grip around your wrist tightens slightly, “General Ti doesn’t trust you. She says that you’re planning something.”

“I’ve been on Kamino, training those boys, since before she even knew Kamino existed.” You counter, “And I have never done anything to harm those boys.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You don’t deny you’re planning something.”

“I have lots of plans, darling.” You reply, your voice a whisper, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Tell me your plans.”

“Hm…” You flash a sly smile, “I have a twelve step plan based solely around getting you into my bed.”

His grip around your wrist loosens slightly, “You’re lying.” Alpha says with narrowed eyes.

“Am I?” You lean closer to him, until you’re pressed against the hard plastoid of his armor, “You’re not a dumb man, Alpha. And you’re not unobservant.”

His lips press into a thin line for a moment, “Fine. You’re not lying. But you’re not completely telling the truth either.”

You hum quietly, “Well, full disclosure, when I applied for the job it was…convenient.” 

“Convenient?”

“Mm.” You hum your agreement, “Convenient.”

“In what way?” Alpha demands.

You hum thoughtfully, and then you grin, “That’s a secret, I’m afraid. But, you can go and tell General Ti that my only plans involve seducing you.”

“You think she sent me to interrogate you?” Alpha asks.

“Oh Alpha, of course she did.” You say with a laugh, “Now…since you don’t want me in here, I suppose I’ll just have to return to my room.” You lightly tap his hand, and he releases your wrist. You favor him with a warm smile as you back out of the room.

The walk back to your room takes ten minutes. And you manage to get the door open, and then shut, and your datapad plugged in, before there’s a knock on the door.

You open the door and don’t even bother to hide your amusement at seeing Alpha-17 on the other side. “Is there something else General Ti needs from me?” You ask lightly.

Something dangerous slides across Alpha’s face and he steps into your room. He reaches out and shuts the door with a hit of the door panel. “So far as I’m aware, she doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“She’s aware of where you are, Alpha. She’s a Jedi.”

He scoffs, and his deft fingers start stripping his armor off, his gaze locked on yours, “I find myself very interested in this seduction plan of yours,” He said, his voice a low rumble, “But I’m also not half patient enough to wait for you to put your plan into play.”

You quirk a single brow, “Is that right?” You ask as you watch him strip his armor off and set it next to the door.

“It is right.” Once his armor was neatly stacked next to the door, he advances on you, “So you’re going to tell me about why Kamino is convenient, and then I am going to claim you as mine.”

“What if I don’t want to be claimed?” You ask.

His hands settle on your hips, and then slide down to your thighs, and you squeak when he lifts you effortlessly, “I think you’ll find that I can be very convincing, cyar’ika.” He says once he encourages you to hook your legs around his waist.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” You agree with a laugh.

He walks you across the room, to the bed, and he settles you in the middle of the bed, and then he settles himself over you, using his hips to pin you in place. “So,” he says lightly, as he lightly grips your wrists and pins them next to your head, “Why Kamino?” Alpha asks as he presses his face into your neck and presses a hot kiss against your pulse.

You jolt at the kiss, and then again when you feel him nipping the same spot, “Uh…maybe I like the rain.”

He hums against your skin, and his lips trail down to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where he kisses, and then bites down just hard enough to leave an obvious mark, “Try again, cyare.”

You whine as he moves his lips again, and bites down a third time, “Kamino doesn’t extradite anywhere.” You say through a quiet moan.

You feel him grin against your skin, “That’s an interesting thing for you to worry about.” He growls as he moves his lips to your throat.

You let out a breathless laugh, “I’m a con-artist, Alpha. A con-artist and an art thief. And I really don't want to go to jail.”

He pauses, and pulls back to look at you, “I’ve seen how you train the cadets, mesh’la. Are you telling me you’re a thief and a tech wiz?”

“I started out as a slicer and decided to evolve into something more challenging.” You admit with a sheepish grin.

“So your credentials?”

“All fake.”

Alpha stares at you, and then he laughs, and crashes his lips against yours, “Good to know.” He mumbles against your lips, “But I can’t seem to bring myself to care.”

You laugh quietly, “If I knew that all I needed to do to get you in my bed is tell you that I wanted you there-” You tease lightly.

His eyes glimmer with mischief as he sits up a little. And then he slowly drags your hands over your head, and pins them in place with one hand, and he uses his newly free hand to start peeling your clothes off. “I’m going to strip your clothes off, and then I’m going to unmake you three or four times before I claim you as my own.” He promises, and then he kisses you.

You grin into the kiss. Alpha always keeps his promises, after all.

[arctrooperechy]

KINDRED - A BAD BATCH STORY

Series Synopsis: The Bad Batch accepts an extraction mission to rescue a member of the Galactic Senate’s daughter.

Series Rating: Mature (though that will likely change as the story progresses)

Prologue

19 BBY - OPEN SPACE

It was so...quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet for a ship full of four men and one child. Everyone was keeping to their own tasks on the ship as Hunter stood in the cockpit behind Tech in his pilot's seat.

Usually, a quiet moment such as this would be one Hunter would have savored. His enhanced senses meant feeling everything a bit more than everyone else.

And that was putting it mildly.

The sergeant learned how to quiet his mind years ago; it had been critical for his sanity and well-being. So no, of course it wasn’t the Kaminoans who taught him. And it wasn’t a member of the cuy’val dar, either.

Hunter had gotten the idea from his squad’s only friend: a gentle clone named 99. Hunter had struggled, hiding in corners when no one was watching and banging his little hands against his temples begging for silence. He thought no one noticed; but 99 did, approaching him quietly.

When trying to explain the problem, all he’d been able to say was, “it’s too loud, it’s too loud.”

99 had consoled him, stating that when things were too loud for him—when there was simply too much noise to think—he should choose a single thing and focus on it.

One thing. Focusing every heightened sense and every bit of his attention on one thing and allowing the sensation to wash over him wholly until it didn’t feel like he was really focusing on anything at all.

It took time to master the skill, through patience and seemingly endless practice. Wrecker had called it “Hunter’s quiet time” once, when they were still small. Tech had rolled his eyes and started to give the definition of “meditation” and Wrecker had covered his eyes with a groan.

Crosshair, the stoic sniper that he was, had joined Hunter for the practice numerous times over the years. It seemed to Hunter that they sought silence for very different reasons. But the pursuit to find that silence was altruistic on both their parts.Tech and Wrecker tried but it was simply in their nature to…well, not be quiet.

But tonight’s quiet was a different story. In the few hours since the squad had left Crosshair alone on Kamino, Hunter's mind had been a prison of memories and guilt. What if the Empire never sends a scout team back to Kamino? What if Crosshair was never found? What if he…

The scenario had to be in the back of everyone else’s head as well. He knew that as the squad's sergeant, it was his duty to speak up and offer guidance, hope, for his teammates.

But he had nothing. He stood in silence, hoping for someone to speak up and distract him from the gnawing insecurity clouding everything.

He stood in silence wondering if they’d made the right choice.

Finally, Wrecker spoke up behind him, ever in keeping with his optimistic and empathetic nature. "'Mega, how about we play some sabaac when we get back to Cid's?"

Omega snapped out of her trance and grinned as she replied, "oh, you're soooo on. Loser buys the Mantell mix for our last mission!"

Wrecker chuckled as he whispered to the girl, "you know Hunter covers that anyway." Omega giggled jovially as she and Wrecker continued their banter. Up front, Echo and Tech began discussing necessary maintenance for the hyperdrive once they were on land again.

Thankful for the chatter, Hunter began selfishly longing for the moment they touched down on Ord Mantell. Maybe the squad would have a chance to relax (for once) and take their minds off of the last several rotations’ events.

As wrong as the notion felt, Hunter thought that perhaps the more distance the squad put between themselves and Crosshair...the better.

-

CARIDA

Merritt Belaena couldn’t wipe the frown off her face. She wouldn’t wipe the frown off her face. One act of defiance, one thing she could control, was this frown. She would wear it until the day she died. If only to prove a point.

The previous evening had been typical. A beautiful gala in a beautiful gown. A lot of conversation she couldn’t remember. A bit too much to drink. An unwelcome wave of emotions hitting her once she retired to her bedchambers. A fit of tossing and turning before sleep set her free.

This morning had been anything but typical.

She had been jolted awake by one of the handmaidens, imploring her to follow. After a moment of back and forth, Merritt relented and was led to the study.

Senator Belaena’s study, that is.

The Senator being her mother; the study being a room no one was typically permitted access while she worked.

The handmaiden ushered Merritt inside and was away with a final thud of the door closing. She looked around the room and saw no servants, no troopers, and no onlookers; only her parents gathered near a corner talking hushedly to each other.

“Mother? Father?”

The pair turned to face their daughter with wild looks in their eyes. Merritt felt her stomach lurch as she realized whatever this was, it was not a good thing.

“Darling,” her father began as he walked over towards her. “We have some news that might seem a bit strange.”

Her mother sighed and walked to meet Merritt before her father had even reached her.

“You must go.”

“Go?” She was dumbfounded.

“Yes. You must leave Carida,” her mother responded sharply. Merritt noted a hint of emotion in her mother’s voice, something she’d only heard a few times in her lifetime.

“I don’t…what?” A small wave of panic began creeping over her, but she pushed it away with every bit of force she could muster.

“You must leave. And it must be tonight.”

Merritt could not for any reason begin to grasp what was happening here. Of all the things she expected to happen…this was not one of them. “Do I have no say in this?”

“You do not,” her father replied. “This is urgent and non-negotiable.”

“We’ve arranged passage for you off-world. You’ll need to be ready in the next few hours. We don’t have much time.”

“Stop.” Merritt took a deep breath before continuing. It was always so nerve-racking to speak to her parents, but it seemed even more daunting now. “What is going on?”

“Something’s happened with the Galactic Se—“ her father began until he realized he was being met with a harsh glare from the Senator.

“It doesn’t matter what’s going on. All you need to know is you’re leaving and your father will pass instructions to you later in the day.”

“Mother, I’m sure I can handle—“

“You. Are. LEAVING. There will be no discussion. That is final.” Her mother’s face had turned wholly red, the veins showing in her forehead and neck.

Merritt had learned a long time ago not to argue with the Senator. The outburst seemed callous at first, but she soon realized that hidden within the vitriol in her mother’s words, there was fear.

That fear did not soften Merritt’s feelings towards her mother at all. It was so characteristic of her to make demands with no discussion. Once, after a particularly difficult situation arose involving the family’s reputation, Merritt asked if she could be of any help. Her mother had not replied; but she’d overheard her later ranting that Merritt was “not capable” of bearing such heavy burdens.

Perhaps she was right.

And yet, here Merritt stood with what felt like the heaviest burden of all—the unknown. Her only ally, it appeared, was the frown on her face. She was on her own, she and that frown, now just as she had always been.

-

ORD MANTELL

Before the Batch could even settle in at Cid's, the Trandoshan was beckoning for Hunter to join her in the back.

The dimly-lit room was anything but welcoming on a good day. But now, when Hunter was desperate for a moment of downtime? It was even worse.

"Heard you almost died," Cid said nonchalantly. Hunter wasn't sure she was feigning the lack of sympathy.

"Been through worse. Nice of you to worry, though," he responded curtly as she took her usual seat.

"Well, I'm not quite ready to lose part of my top source of revenue yet," she shrugged, sifting through the items on her desk. "Besides, I've got a job for you."

Hunter sighed loudly as he started, "I think the squad needs to lay low for a bit."

Cid continued as if she didn't hear him. "Carida, planet that's been getting quite a bit of Imperial attention lately.” She activated a diagram from her holopad at the desk, showing the planet’s location in the Inner Rim. “The planet’s the site of a clone training facility that's been converted into an Imperial officer and trooper academy."

Hunter nodded quietly; he was familiar with Carida and the soldiers they produced. Why it was relevant to him, he hadn’t the slightest idea.

"Someone needs to be transported off-world, ASAP. Willing to pay a fortune," she grinned.

"Cid...the team's been through a lot lately. I'm not sure we're ready to engage in conflict with the Empire again just yet."

"Bandana, this is a quick extraction, easy score for you boys," she scoffed. "Details are on here," she explained as she tossed him a holodisc.

"No," Hunter said as he tossed the disc back towards her desk. "Not happening."

Before Cid could respond, a tiny voice piped up from the office's entrance. "What's not happening?"

Omega stepped in and sat on the arm of Hunter's chair.

“Tiny! Finally, someone with some sense. Dark and broody here’s rejecting a simple rescue mission I had for you all,” Cid said with a devious smirk. Hunter glared at her, knowing she’d used the right words.

“Rescue mission? Someone’s in trouble?” Omega’s eyes lit up; she looked to Hunter excitedly.

Before he could say anything, Cid made matters even worse by adding it was someone on an Imperial-occupied planet.

“Hunter, we have to go!” Omega exclaimed, beginning to tug on his arm.

“Omega,” he started slowly, “I just don’t know that the squad is ready for another mission just yet. There’s been…a lot that’s happened these last few days,” he finished.

She looked at him with a fierceness in her eyes, and he knew that was it. The kid was very persuasive and usually right…usually. “Hunter, we help people. Isn’t that what we do?” she asked firmly.

After a long pause and without looking away from Omega, Hunter spoke to Cid. “Just an extraction? This person is going to be ready for us…in and out, without any intense maneuvering?”

“Yup. And then we both reap a ton of credits. What could go wrong?” Cid smiled back with greed in her eyes.

Hunter sighed with a look back at Omega. He resolved to himself that this would be their last mission for a while, no matter what Cid bribed, or Omega pleaded. It wasn’t just that they needed rest; he was concerned his squad had been making far too much noise lately and needed to lay low for a while.

Perhaps one simple low-risk mission to provide them enough credits to relax for a long while wasn’t such a terrible plan.

“Alright, kid. Go round up the boys. Let’s make this quick.”

-

A/N: thank you for reading! After months of reworking, I am finally ready to begin sharing this TBB story. This is my first fic, so any tips or comments would be so helpful ❣️ I don’t know how to do a tag-list but if that’s something you’re interested in, please let me know!

-CC

[atelier-dayz]

WIP Wednesday - beach vacation verse

This takes place not in the next part, but the next next part, and some Not Good Things happen (including to Jango) before we get to this scene!

Bant, of course, dear friend that she is, sees the way he’s looking at Jango and knows well his worry for him. “You can stay with him if you’d like, Obi,” she says gently. “You won’t be in the way.”

The offer is tempting, as he stands there holding Jango’s limp, too cold hand. It feels like ages since the last time they held each other.

What Dooku has done to Jango’s mind is—horrendous, and he has no idea what Jango will remember or how he’ll react when he’s awake again. But Obi-wan would trust Bant with his life, so he can trust her with Jango’s, and while he doesn’t know Masters Lohk or Ata well, both of their reputations as mind healers far precedes them. He has no doubt the three of them will be able to undo the damage Dooku has done to Jango’s mind. Meanwhile, Obi-wan has his own tasks ahead.

“Thank you, but my time will be better spent helping Master Windu and the Cuy’val Dar,” Obi-wan says. “Besides, it’s what Jango would expect and want regardless. Our duties come first.” He pauses, and then adds, “I’d like to be here when you wake him up though.”

“Certainly,” Master Lohk agrees immediately, “seeing a familiar face would be best for his recovery.”

Obi-wan leans down, pressing his forehead against Jango’s. “K'oyacyi, cyare,” he whispers, even though Jango can’t hear him. He gives Jango’s hand a final squeeze before pulling away.

( •̀ω •́ )

[josephsaturn]

Gonna post some SW AU ideas

(Fair warning: most of these are tcw/clones-adjacent because that’s where the brainrot is lmao

Also I am ONLY fully done watch the first 2 prequel movies and season 1 of tcw. I know what’s gonna happen after, but not every detail of it.)

Starting with:

Shmi the Nanny

Ok so.

A few months after Anakin is taken to become a Jedi, Jango goes to Watto’s for help on his ship, so Watto sends Shmi to go work on it while Jango watches. Idk, he’s probably got nothing better to do. While she’s working on fixing the problem, he decides to pass time by telling her about the kid he just got: how he’s the sweetest thing ever, how he looks like an angel, maybe he even stops Shmi’s work to show pictures or something. But, the important thing is this: he knows that Kamino’s no place to raise a child, and he trusts both the nanny-bot and the Kaminoans about as far as he can throw them.

Getting an idea, he then looks at Shmi and asks if she has any experience with kids.

She, obviously, answers yes.

Jango walks back in to Watto’s store, stays in there for a few minutes, and when he comes out, he tells her that she’s coming with him to be his kid’s nanny.

I wanna make it clear that Jango DID NOT free Shmi: she’s still got her chip, Jango’s just got her detonator. He’s simply her new owner, and, as Shmi’s gonna learn, a REAL piece of work.

So they go to Kamino, and meet up with whichever Kaminoan is there to greet Jango. He introduces Shmi as Boba’s live-in nanny for when Jango goes on bounties and such, and they take her to the Tipoca apartments to get settled in. While walking there, Shmi notices the tubes carrying the other clones on the weird merry-go-round thing in canon, and gets told that those are the Jedi’s clone army.

The Jedi.

The very same Jedi she allowed Ani to go live with.

Why did the Jedi need an army?

But they make it to the apartments, Shmi gets one right next to the Fetts, and Jango introduces her to little baby boba, only a few months old. She also gets introduced to the Cuy’val Dar, since she’ll be in close quarters with them.

For the first few days, Shmi just walks around, taking in all of the sights Kamino has to offer (like all the WATER, holy kriff), but gets rebuked by whoever’s nearby when she tries to go into the cloning facility.

Finally, Jango harshly wakes her up in the middle of the night and takes her to his apartment, telling her that if anything happens to boba, it’ll be on her. With that, he leaves, and shmi falls asleep on the couch, only to be woken up by boba’s crying.

She ends up taking care of him for a month and a half, Jango nowhere in sight for all of it, only for him to return in the middle of the day and coldly kick Shmi out of the apartment.

The pattern repeats: Jango leaves for at least a month, comes back for just a week or two, then it’s back out again.

Some highlights of this idea:

Shmi bonding with certain members of the Cuy’val dar, with one of them even giving her her own blaster

Shmi officially meets the rest of the clones when Boba turns four, having lost him after turning her back on him for only a minute. Alpha-17 finds him and gets him back to her

Boba gets to listen to some of her stories/eat food from tattooine

Boba in general growing up with a positive influence instead of being a super-duper isolated brat.

Shmi straight up killing Dred priest when news of his fighting ring reaches her

Shmi thinking about how the only people she likes on this miserable planet are just the kids (and yes the men bred to die are kids to her. Sue her she literally watched them grow up) cuz the adults are different shades of asshole

And other stuff

Lemme know what you think!

[trixree]

Chapter 10 - Why Not's & How To's

“There is a part of the deal for the clone army that was most likely buried once the war broke out, maybe even earlier. Us older batches—alphas, command class, some of the first gen standards—only knew about it because the Cuy’val Dar talked and the kid got around. Prime got a hefty payout, obviously, but he got something else from the Kaminoans, too. He wanted to make a child for himself out of an unaltered clone,” Cody pauses as Obi-Wan’s eyes grow serious, losing the playful spark their flirtation had kindled. “Jango Fett… adopted a clone of himself?” Obi-Wan clarifies. “Not adopted. Ordered," Cody corrects.

Rating: E, Word Count: 61k+, Chapter Count 10/17 Support me on Ko-Fi or with a reblog!