#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 ;)

[merlincmgirl]

Jealousy - Jango Fett x FReader - NSFW

Summary: When Jango catches his clones looking at you and flirting with you, he decides to remind them that you belong to him. Prime is the one who gets nice things.

Characters: Jango, Fox, Cody, Clone Cadets

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,898

Warnings: biting, marking, oral (male receiving), thigh riding, fingering, spanking, PinV sex, dom Jango, possessive!Jango, mentions of breeding, dirty talk, derogatory terms, Jango does not respect his clones

Author's Note: This was the first fic of this collection that I started writing, and it holds a special place in my heart. It feels so nice to end this with the one and only. He's a bit of an asshole in this, but after everything that Jango has gone through in his life, he's allowed to have some issues.

Translations:

Manda - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit

ner mesh'la riddur - my beautiful spouse

riddur - spouse

Jango wasn’t blind. He was very aware of his clones and how they seemed to revolve around you wherever you went. A part of him was amused as he watched his carbon copies fawn over you. His love for you must be engrained into his DNA, a part of him just like his limbs or his sense of manda. He had loved you for years, way before he had been offered this role by Tyrannus, and he was pleased that you had accepted his offer to follow him to Kamino to build an army of clones for the Republic.

Another part of him hated it. It caused something dark and ugly to curl underneath his breast bone every time one of his clones looked at you in a way that you only received from him. Their eyes followed you when you walked by, they offered you help even when you were doing nothing. He had even seen one of his copies blush heavily at making you laugh and had to be caught by his batch mates when you had left. Jango had made sure that the clone was doing suicide runs around the whole of the Kamino base. Twice.

No. If he had his way, you wouldn’t interact with them at all. He’d keep you well away from their leering looks and pathetic flirtation attempts. Keep you in your private quarters, round with child and being doted on by him. But he was powerless to say no to you, especially when you complained of being bored whenever Boba was sent to his classes and he was training the clones along with the Cuy’val Dar. So he had agreed to allow you to help, mostly becoming an ambassador between himself and the long necks. He hated dealing with them, and you normally had the grace and patience to do so in his stead.

So as he watched his clones – from one of the Commander batches he was sure – speak with you in the hangar, he couldn’t help but clench his fist and feel a tight, burning feeling in his chest. You were smiling at whatever Kote and Fox were saying, and they were returning your kindness in full force. He was sure that Fox was leaning in closer to you.

“CC-2224, CC-1010, why are you not in your classes? I didn’t realise that Alpha-17 allowed his men to slack off whenever they felt like it” Jango’s voice boomed in the hangar. The two clones in front of you stiffened and quickly fell into attention and saluted to him. Guilt swirled in you, not wanting the troopers to get into trouble because of something you did.

“Jango, I was just asking them to help carry the deliveries I received to our rooms. It’s my fault they were running late” you excused, smiling softly at your riddur.

Jango didn’t say anything, but kept his eyes trained on his clones in front of him. Neither had relaxed their position, their obedience engrained and trained into them. Their eyes were fixed at a point over his shoulder as he stepped closer towards you. Even after all these years with you, he still savoured the way you relaxed into him as soon as he was close enough to do so. It was like you found safety only in his arms. Resting a hand on your lower stomach, he tugged you slightly against his front. Your ass pressed into the curve of his hip.

Letting out a little gasp, you couldn’t help but blush at Jango’s touch. He was normally quite reserved when you two were in company, preferring to not highlight his weakness to others. Wanting to keep you away from any harm or danger. Your noise didn’t go unheard, because you could see both troopers cheeks start turning red.

“Then what are you still doing here, troopers? You have your orders” Jango demanded, hard gaze boring into them.

“Yes, Prime, Sir!” they both chorused, refusing to look at either you or Jango. Instantly the two troopers in front of your snapped into movement, it was like they had suddenly been released from something that had kept them frozen and paralysed to the spot. Straight away they began to move to the crates that held your supplies and deliveries that had been imported from around the galaxy.

Sighing at your husband’s heavy and stern touch with the troopers, you shook your head and stepped away from him. “Kote, Fox, thank you for helping me with them. It’s very much appreciated, I’ll be sure to inform Alpha-17 of how helpful his men are and why they were late” I said, sending them a small thankful smile.

“Of course ma’am” Kote nodded, before almost shoving his brother and his crate out of the door in front of him.

“You don’t have to be soft with them” Jango stated, hooking a finger into your belt and dragging you back towards him.

Stumbling slightly as you landed against his front, you turned in his arms, sliding your hands over his chest plate and around his neck, your fingers instantly becoming entwined into the small curls at the back of his neck. “And you don’t have to be so hard on them, my love” you reminded, heart aching at the training that the clones had to go through. Seeing his mouth open to defend the training and cloning process once more, you placed your hand over his mouth, sighing softly. “I know, they’re trained soldiers meant for the Republic. I don’t want to argue with you about this again” you said softly, resting your forehead against his.

Jango slid his arms around your waist, tugging you even closer to him as you shared a Kedable kiss with him, sharing your breaths with him, the life that flowed through you and into him. He couldn’t help but want to bring you even closer, to feel your skin pressed against his, to hear your moans and gasps echo in his ears as he took such good care of you. Running a hand up the span of your back, he allowed himself to feel your warmth as he nuzzled his nose into yours. Reaching it’s target destination, his hand gripped the back of your neck, tilting your head up to meet his in a soft, barely there teasing kiss.

“You know, riddur, those clones see you as their savoir. You’re the one that they turn and watch whenever you walk by. The one that they all clamber to get even a moment of your attention” Jango whispered, laying gentle kisses from the corner of your lips, across your jaw and to the sensitive spot just underneath your ear. He enjoyed the way you shivered at the feel of his hot breath against you, sending goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“It’s because I’m one of the only women of their species on this planet” you rolled your eyes, dismissing his words. The clones had never interacted with a woman outside of their trainers, it was only natural they would want to speak with you and be close to you.

He hummed out a negative, shaking his head slightly, causing your jaw to tingle at the feel of his stubble brushing against you. “Because you’re part of me, loving you is written into my DNA” he breathed, amused at the shiver that ran through you at the feel of his warm breath caressing your ear.

You were momentarily stunned by his words, surprised at their softness. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt your heart pound a little harder as you gripped onto his chest plate tighter, not wanting to let go.

“But you’re mine, they don’t get to have you” he claimed, the hand on the back of your neck tightening once more as his other came up to cup your throat. Jango didn’t squeeze, just rested it there as he guided your face up to his, looking in your eyes as they dilated slightly with the desire he was building inside of you.

Mouth suddenly going dry at his words, you could only nod and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. It wasn’t a secret that Jango was mostly indifferent to his clones, if not actively thought of them as canon fodder, but he had never been outright jealous of them before. You had only been talking with Kote and Fox briefly, what had brought this on?

“What do they call me, riddur?” he purred against your neck, laying kisses along the delicate skin as he kept the pressure light.

He was teasing you, drawing this out longer than he normally would. You knew that he was going to make you beg for him, he seemed in that kind of mood today. What had happened between this morning where he had kissed you and Boba goodbye at breakfast to now? The thought quickly fled your brain as you felt a warning squeeze around your throat. Oh, he wanted an answer.

“Prime, they call you Prime” you murmured, voice shaking slightly as you tried to find the words he wanted.

“That’s right, I’m Prime. The original, the first one, the most important” he confirmed, teeth beginning to graze against the hollow of your throat.

“Jango, you have nothing to prove – to anyone – least of all me” you reminded, tilting your head back slightly to give him more room. He was starting to become firmer in his kisses, working marks and bruises on your neck that you would display with pride. Carding a hand through his curls to try and soothe the agitation in him, you gasped as he nipped at your skin.

“Oh ner mesh’la riddur, I’m not proving anything, just giving them a little reminder” he smirked, pulling back to admire the bruises that was already starting to blossom on your neck.

The intoxicating atmosphere between you two was cut short however, as the door pinged, signalling it was opening. Stiffening, you went to step away from Jango, to a more respectable distance before his arms gripped tightly to your waist, keeping you pinned against his front. There was no hope of breaking his hold, it felt like durasteel was wrapped around you.

Blushing heavily at being caught in a compromising position, you risked a glance up to see who had disturbed you. It was Kote and Fox. No doubt coming back to collect the rest of the crates that was in the hangar. They stopped, eyes widening as they spotted you and Jango.

“2224, 1010, you will stand outside and keep watch” Jango ordered sharply, eyes catching the slight tinge of rouge on their cheeks at his words and the implications of them. Satisfied that this would no doubt spread through the ranks of the clones once he was finished with you, he dismissed them with a nod to the door.

You however, had never felt so exposed, like all your nerve endings were on fire at what Jango wanted to do. Embarrassment warred with the want to also have him fuck you for everyone to see and hear. You weren’t a stranger to the looks that Jango accumulated when he walked around the base from some in the Cuy’val Dar. This would no doubt spread like wild fire among everyone. You felt pride curl up in your chest at the thought that everyone would know just how much Jango adored you and wanted you, enough to not even wait to get back to your quarters it would seem.

As the door shut behind them, Jango scooped you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you over to the crate nearest said doors. You groaned at the feel of his codpiece pressing into the apex of your thighs, rubbing against you with every step that he took. He settled you back on your feet and you couldn’t help but raise a judgemental eyebrow at him. Did he think he was bring subtle? Bringing you close to the door so everyone could hear.

“Strip, I don’t think you’d want me to rip your pretty clothes when the time comes to walk back to our rooms” he instructed, tugging on the neckline of your shirt.

“Didn’t think you would mind, riddur. I half expected you to want to carry me through the halls naked” you scoffed, shaking your head at him affectionately as you began to pull your shirt up over your head. As you threw it off, a hand snapped up to grip your jaw firmly, pressure making your lips part and a small whine to escape at the rough hold. Heat raced through you at that, and you weren’t surprised to feel your cheeks redden a little more.

“If I wanted everyone to see what you looked like, I would have told them to stay and watch as you screamed on my cock. But only I get to see that. Not those lab rats” he spat out, eyes heated as he stared down into your own.

Taking in a shaky breath, you nodded your understanding as heat flooded through you. Clenching your thighs to ease the pressure that was building behind your clit, your hands began to reach for your flight pants and shove them down over your hips until they pooled on the floor at your feet. Stepping out of them and your boots, you flicked them away from you, not bothering to look as you kept your eyes on your riddur.

“Good girl, you look so beautiful, my perfect riddur” he praised, hand coming up to your back to undo the chest band that kept your breasts hidden from view.

Instantly the cold air in the hangar hit your form, your nipples already pebbling and hardening under the cool and windy weather of Kamino. Stifling a moan at the feel of them hardening, you bit your lip and widened your legs a little.

Jango’s hand came up to tweak at your nipple, enjoying the pained gasp that you let out at his touch. He couldn’t get enough of your breasts, could imagine them swelling up and filling with milk when you decided to give him another child. The thought had him hardening even further in his compression suit and his codpiece was becoming even more uncomfortable.

“Go on, mesh’la, get me nice and ready to fuck your needy little hole” he ordered, hands coming to your shoulder to push you onto your knees in front of him.

Unable to help the moan that escaped you as you were trapped between his broad, strong body and the crate at your back, you spread your thighs as you got down onto your knees in front of him. With a lot of practice, you deftly undid the codpiece, dropping it to the side of you with a quiet thud of metal against metal.

You could see the bulge pressing against his compression suit and couldn’t help yourself as you pressed a soft kiss against the straining fabric.

“Fuck! Sweetheart! You’re going to kill me” he groaned, fingers trailing up from your shoulders to your neck.

Giggling softly at the tickling sensation, you worked to undo his pants, pushing them down off his hips enough for his cock to spring up. His cock was fully hard, already leaking pre-cum from the tip. He was a nice size and thick, you knew you would be feeling him tomorrow.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly and letting out a muffled moan. “Open up, sweetheart” he instructed, hooking his thumb into your mouth to guide it open. Your hands clenched on your thighs, as you felt your pussy clench around nothing. God you couldn’t wait to take him into your mouth, to taste him as he pushed in with every roll of his hips.

Keeping your teeth out of the way, and your tongue out, Jango tapped the head of his cock onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. The musky, salty taste of him had you moaning, legs spreading just a bit wider as he pushed himself even further into your mouth. You breathed through your nose, keeping your breathing calm as you lathed the underside of his cock with your tongue.

“Good girl, your mouth feels so good. So perfect around my cock” he grunted, hand coming to slide into your hair and tugging slightly on the strands.

As you got used to the feel of him once more pressed inside of you, resting in your mouth, you gave his thigh two taps with your fingers. The sign between you that he could continue.

“Stay there” he muttered, fingers carding through your hair before he tightened his grip on them. You nodded, knowing what he wanted and relaxing your throat muscles even further. He kept a reassuring hand on your cheek as he pushed even further into your mouth until your nose was pressed to the wiry, course hair at the bottom of his cock. “Ohh, good girl, taking all of me in your throat. Just relax, I’ll let you breathe in a second” he groaned, feeling the muscles spasm around his cock for a moment before you relaxed, breathing through your nose and sending fluttering tingles around his base.

Your hands gripped onto his sturdy thighs, eyes watering as you kept him in your mouth and waited for him to move. He was heavy in your mouth, leaving you no room to move or do anything but accept him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you whined as you fought against the urge to push him away or move.

Finally, he pulled out, just enough for you to suck air into your lungs before he thrust back in sharply, keeping that tight grip on your hair. He began fucking your face in earnest, the soft, gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat rung in the empty room. You dug your nails into the back of his thighs, pulling him even closer to you. You wanted as much as him in your mouth as he possibly could.

“Fuck, what a little whore you are, mesh’la. Even with my whole cock in your mouth, it’s still not enough, you still need more” he taunted, brushing a tear off your cheek as he looked down at your flushed face. He took in how your mouth was stretched around his thick cock, how your cheeks were red from your tears and the lust flowing through you. Your eyes were all glazed and glassy as he fucked every thought out of your head.

You tried to moan your agreement but all it came out as was muffled and hidden behind the rough slap of his balls against your chin. You wanted to cry at the feel of arousal that slid from your clenching opening. Unable to resist, you slipped your hand between your thighs and into your panties.

However, it seemed like he had a sixth sense when it came to you, Jango knew exactly what you were trying to do because he flicked your hand away with a low growl; stepping even further into your spread legs and nudging them even wider so that you got no relief from the pressure that was building in your core.

“You only cum on my fingers, on my cock. What a little slut you are, getting wet and desperate just from your riddur fucking your mouth” he snapped, tugging harshly on your hair and making you cry out around his cock. He gave a few more rough rolls of his hips before he was dragging you off his cock, leaving you gasping and trying to work as much air into your lungs as possible. Thick lines of saliva connected your mouth to his cock before Jango broke them.

Hands lifted you up and settled you against him. He brushed your sweaty, strands of hair away from your face and wiped away your tears. “Shh, you did so well for me mesh’la. Taking my cock into your wonderful mouth” he cooed, shushing your unsteady breaths and kissing your cheeks. “But I’m not finished with you yet” he smirked, twisting you both around until he was sitting down on the edge of the crate behind you.

You moaned loudly as he dragged your form up his thigh plate, the ridged metal was cool against your heated skin and pressed just right between your folds and against your clit. “Jango!” you pleaded, closing your eyes as you rested against his chest.

“I know, I know riddur. I want you to ride my thigh, want you to cum on it so that everyone can see your release dripping down the metal” he chuckled mockingly, cupping your cheeks to bring you in for a passionate kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your cries as you began to rock your hips against his thigh plate. He took over all of your senses as you blossomed under his touch and kisses, letting him stoke the fire that was already building inside of you.

The groove of his thigh plate pressed perfectly against your folds, but the smoothness of the metal restricted what friction you could get from it. It was maddening, each movement of your hips enough to build you up to your peak but never threw you over it.

From the smirk on his face as he watched you ride his thigh, Jango knew. The bastard!

“Come on, mesh’la, want to see you cum for me and then I promise I’ll fuck you so good, everyone on this planet will know you’re mine” he swore, sliding his fingers up your thighs and teasingly reaching the apex of your thighs before pulling away. He chuckled at your growl of frustration.

“Jango! Please!” you whined, uncaring about how loud you were being now, or the clones outside the door. You just wanted to cum, feel the pleasure rush through you as Jango kept touching you.

“My poor riddur, is this not enough? Do you need more?” he murmured mockingly sweet, laying kisses along your collarbone, his stubble scratching deliciously against you. He grazed his teeth against the thin skin before sinking his teeth into you, making sure to leave a mark that others would see later.

“Yes! Please Jango! You know I do, please!” you cried, rolling your hips against the groove, anything to provide you some kind of stimulation to send you over the edge.

He sighed heavily, seemingly put out that you weren’t following his demands. “Very well, mesh’la, I suppose I could help you” he smirked, hands coming to land on your hips and raising you up. He shushed your tired whines before gathering the slick that was covering your thighs and his cuisse plate. “You’re soaking, riddur. All this from just sucking cock and riding my thigh. What a sweet little whore you are for me. I think you deserve a reward” he purred filthily into your ear.

You shivered from the warm breath that caressed your sensitive skin and the way he was pressed against you. Before you could reply however, Jango had pushed in two of his thick fingers into your dripping cunt. Finally being filled and stretched around him had you clenching down around his fingers, hips rocking forward as you let out a loud moan.

That was exactly what you needed as you began to ride his fingers, desperate to get to the edge of completion that he had you teetering on moments ago. As he curled them just right, searching for that spot inside of you that made your brain short circuit, you raised your hips higher, slamming them down on his hand with a loud squelching noise. Any other time you’d be embarrassed about how wet you were for this man, but the way Jango was playing you and your body had you crying out for more.

The coil in your stomach was tightening as you felt your cunt clench even tighter around the fingers inside of you.

“Good girl, can feel you cyar’ika… so tight. Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?” he groaned, thumb beginning to circle your swollen bud of nerves, pushing you closer and closer to your peak. You nodded, squeezing and digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Then cum for me!”

You shattered around him, a loud cry of his name echoing around the hangar as you shook, collapsing against his chest as you both panted heavily. You could feel his hard length press against your stomach as you tried to find words to assure him you would take care of him just as soon as you regained the use of your limbs.

“Perfect for me, ner mesh’la riddur” he whispered in Mando’a, affection laced in his voice. He ran a soothing hand up and down your back, waiting for you to settle once more.

He pulled his fingers out, kissing your cheeks as he did so. When you pulled back to look at him, he kept his gaze on yours before slipping his fingers into his mouth. The moan he let out had you clenching your thighs around his, mouth falling open at just how hot he looked in this moment. Bronzed skin shiny with a light layer of sweat, dark curls beginning to stick to his temples as he sucked your release off his fingers. He ran his tongue through the gap, making sure to put on a show for you, showing just how much he loved the taste of you.

Chuckling, he lifted you up off him and turned you both around until he had you bent over the crate that you two had been leaning on. He let out an appreciative noise as he viewed your ass, squeezing your cheeks and pulling them apart.

You whimpered, feeling even more heat rush to your face at the thought of being so on display for him. Jango had seen every part of you, tasted and touched every inch of you but it still embarrassed you at how much he enjoyed taking you in.

“As delicious as you are, riddur. I can’t wait to fuck you. Want everyone to know just how well I can fuck you. They might be my clones but only I get to have you” he growled, leaning forward to press kisses up your spine before sucking a bruise onto the back of your neck. When he was satisfied at how you writhed beneath him, he pulled back but not before giving you a hard spank that landed solidly against your cheek.

The flare of pain only heightened your pleasure as you groaned, pushing your hips back to seek his.

“When I get you back to our rooms, I’m going to eat you out for hours. Gonna make you cum so many times on my face, I won’t ever forget the taste of you” he promised, running his fingers through your folds before spreading your arousal onto his cock.

“Jango, come on! Need you inside me, please” you urged him, wiggling your hips to try and entice him to fuck you.

But Jango was a stubborn bastard and all he did was chuckle, holding his cock and pushing the tip through your folds and against your clit. “You can beg sweeter than that” he murmured, hearing you groan in frustration at that.

And yes, Jango may know how to tease you and work you up into madness, but you knew all his tricks as well. And you weren’t against using them against him.

“Please riddur, my strong, brave husband. Let everyone know that I’m yours” you pleaded, biting your lip as you pushed back enough to feel him nudge against your clit once more. “Please… want you to fuck me” you whimpered, feeling the flare of heat flood through you at that.

Jango let out a loud primal snarl before he was thrusting into you in one smooth motion, holding you still as you let out a loud cry, fingers digging into the crate beneath you.

“That what you wanted? Huh, mesh’la? Want to feel me inside you, stretching out this sweet little cunt?” he hissed, gritting his teeth at the feel of your hot, tight walls squeezing and spasming around him as you got used to his cock. His hands landed on your hips, keeping you both still until you were both ready for him to move.

“Fuck! Can feel you in my throat!” you gasped, widening your legs slightly before moaning as he sunk deeper into you. “Jango!” you shouted, reaching back to cover his hand with your own. He entwined your fingers, rubbing small circles with the other one into your hip. Nodding, you tapped out your signal to go and that was all it took for Jango to fuck the life out of you.

He pulled back, cock dragging along your walls before slamming back into you, forcing the air out of your lungs as you scrambled to keep hold of the crate. His sharp thrust sent you further along the rough surface, his animalistic grunts filling the room along with the wet noise as your cunt welcomed him back in with every thrust.

Thoughts of keeping quiet fled your brain, all you could think about was Jango and how good he felt as he pinned you down and fucked you.

It felt like he was carving a place for himself inside of you, stretching and filling you in ways that you didn’t think you would ever become used to. Slick flooded around him, and you buried your face into the crook of your arm, unable to stop the loud moans and cries falling from your lips.

“So good, you’re gushing mesh’la. Is this what you needed? A nice, hard fuck to remind you that you’re mine. That you’re my riddur, my love” he chuckled filthily, hand travelling up your spine and to the nape of your neck. He squeezed it slightly, keeping you bent over for him as he railed into you.

He loved you like this, able to see your ass bounce around his cock. The sounds you let out was driving him closer to his own completion, the soft cries and moans of his name enough to have his balls tightening. He groaned against your back leaving a deceptively soft kiss to your shoulder compared to the harsh thrusts of his cock inside of you.

“That’s it, mesh’la. This little cunt was made for me. Who else could fuck you like this, huh?” he snarled, snapping his hips into yours. He didn’t give you a chance to reply, pulling you off the crate and to the floor. Arranging you on your knees, he tugged your hips back and slammed back into you, sending you wailing into the air as you threw your head back. His cock sinking deeper into you with this new position, balls hitting your clit as he fucked you into the floor.

A loud smack filled the air as he spanked your ass.

“I asked you a question!”

“You! Only you! Oh!”

“That’s right, riddur. Only me, only I can see you like this, only I can make you feel this good” he growled, reaching around your front to rub at your clit.

Unable to help it, your legs shook from the waves of pleasure that was washing over you, body quivering as Jango tilted his hips slightly to hit you at a different angle. Just as you were about to shatter around him, pushed over the edge, he pulled his fingers away from your bundle of nerves.

“Nooo! Jango, please! Please!” you begged, almost sobbing as he denied you your release.

“You’re mine!” he snarled out, squeezing your hips so hard you were sure they would be bruised tomorrow.

You nodded, words getting caught in your throat as he thrust harder into you. It felt like he was staking his claim over you, not allowing you or anyone close by to forget that.

It seemed your silence wasn’t what he wanted though, as he tangled his hand in your hair and pulled up sharply, arching your back and making you cry out, hips pushed even more into his rolling ones.

“Say it riddur!” he ordered, pinching your nipple, “say it and then you can cum.”

“I’m yours” you screamed out, not caring about who heard just as long as you could cum.

“Good girl, my good, sweet girl” he praised, hand coming down to rub at your clit.

You couldn’t stop the cry of his name as you came around his cock, clenching and squeezing him as you were forced over the edge, pleasure wracking through your trembling body. Jango couldn’t stop as his hips stuttered, thrusting two, three more times before he released his load inside of you, your name tumbling loudly from his lips.

Jango tried not to collapse on top of you, instead angling his body to the side and pulling you into his arms. The cold durasteel floor wasn’t comfortable, and he tugged you onto his chest so that you were a bit warmer and cosier against him.

Once your breaths had calmed down, and you were nuzzled into the crook of Jango’s neck, you let out a little giggle. “You didn’t even undress” you reminded him, smiling into the sweaty skin beneath you.

“Sorry, mesh’la. I promise you can undress me as much as you want when we get back to our rooms” he chuckled, wrapping his arms even tighter around you.

“Good, but I think I need a shower. I’m starting to feel sticky” you grimaced, feeling his softened cock slip out of you and his release trickle down. You pushed yourself up from his chest, taking a look at the beautiful man beneath your hands. However, Jango couldn’t hide the smug look from you. Whacking his chest you glared playfully at him. “You’re not the one that’s going to be dripping all the way back” you grouched, shaking your head at him.

“Oh mesh’la, don’t talk like that, you’ll make me want to start round 2” he smirked, tugging you back down to his chest.

“No way! You’re going to carry me back to our rooms. I don’t think my legs are going to work after that” you told him, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Of course, riddur” he agreed readily, eager to have you in his arms.

Frowning, you cupped his cheek, looking down into his beautiful chestnut eyes. “You know you’re the only man for me, right? No matter if these men share your face, they never will be you” you reminded him softly, wanting to reassure him after all this.

“I know love, I know. I’ve never doubted you” he assured, cupping your face and bringing your foreheads together. He took in a few deep breaths, committing you to his memory once more before pulling away with a small smile. “Now, lets get you dressed. I believe we should have the next hour or so to ourselves” he grinned, pinching your side and laughing at your squeal of surprise.

“Good! Now go and dismiss those troopers! I want my riddur all to myself” you ordered, reaching for your discarded clothes. His laughter warmed the cool room as he went to do what he was told.

[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!

[viscanpikamine]

Stupidest shit I’ve ever drawn but I’m sharing it anyways

(For context, Akaan (my OC) was born to a true mandalorian clan, but doesn’t know any culture because they died when he was young and he was taken in by the Jedi Order. Issue is that the cuy’val dar knew his parents lol)

[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.

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: Mij Gilamar is always taking care of everyone, but who takes care of him? Pairing: Mij Gilamar x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW (Minors Do Not Interact), somewhat edited, I'm terrible at smut, oral (male receiving), mentions of fighting and blood. Word Count: 2102

Rain slammed against the windows and ran down the glass like the blood that had been cleaned from the floor of the mess hall. It hadn’t surprised anyone that someone had taken Dred Priest to task, but you have never seen Mij Gilamar as furious as he had been in that moment. It had taken Jango and Wad’e to pull the doctor off the man. His knuckles were almost as bloody as Priest’s face.

You follow the blinding lights down the hallway to Mij’s quarters and rap your knuckles against the door and wait. Silence. You knock again, louder and harder this time. A chair scrapes against the durasteel floor, but the door remains closed. You wonder if he thinks you’re some other Cuy’val Dar member here to reprimand him. Honestly, you can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t pour Mij a tall glass of tihaar for the pounding he’d given Priest.

“Mij!” you call out. “It’s me. Open up.”

Footsteps shuffle behind the door before it slides open to reveal the disheveled face of the man you know instead of the rage filled executioner you had seen moments ago. A swollen, bloody gash is on his cheek from a well-placed hit from Priest, and the skin under his eye is already becoming an angry shade of violet. He steps back to let you into his room.

A first-aid kit sits nearby on a table. Gauze and bacta gel are scattered across the table’s surface, and you know he’s not going to have an easy time tending to the knuckles of his dominant hand.

You nod toward a chair. “Sit.”

He raises an eyebrow, but he does what you tell him to. You grab an alcohol wipe from the kit and take his hand in yours. You expect a hiss as you run the small cloth gently across the cracked skin, but he remains silent and stoic. He doesn’t look at you as you clean him up. How many times has he dealt with his own wounds? Guilt floods you at the thought of him having to take care of himself when everyone runs to him with their injuries. No one wants to see the Kaminoan doctors or the medical droids. People want warmth and kindness. Both things are hard to find in Tipoca City.

He watches you closely, his eyes scanning your face that’s set in concentration. You want to know what he’s thinking. It’s probably that he should have gone for Dred Priest’s jugular with a scalpel.

“I can do this myself,” he tells you after a few moments. However, he makes no move to stop you.

You don’t look up at him. Instead, you grab the bacta gel and continue your work.

“I’m aware,” you say, rubbing the gel into his wounds the way you’ve seen him do it a hundred times. “You’ve patched up almost everyone here, myself included.”

 “You’re the one I have to treat the most,” he chuckles. “I’ve never met anyone else who was such a hazard to themselves.”

“I’m lucky you’re here to always put me back together,” you say, grinning up at him. “But, tell me, who takes care of you?”

Grey eyes meet yours as he smirks. “Are you wanting the job?”

You wrap his knuckles in gauze and reach for another wipe to clean the small gash in his cheek. Any anger that had lurked under his skin is gone, and he smiles at you as you rub the gel gently across the cut. It won’t take much of it to do the job and won’t even require a bandage.

“What if I am?” you ask. “Would you let me take care of you?”

He doesn’t move or breathe or look away from you. You can almost see the thoughts buzzing around in his skull. Does he say yes and move out of safe territory or does he respond politely and tell you he doesn’t need to be taken care of? Would things change so much if he just let you in?

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he says quietly. “Though, I have to warn you…I’m not always the best patient.”

You grin widely at him. “Noted. Anywhere else needing tended to?”

He smirks. “I can think of a few places.”

You almost miss his mumbled words.

“What was that, Sergeant Gilamar?” you shoot back.

“Nothing,” he says. “But I think that hut’uun might have gotten me in the lip.”

The light in his eyes is back, and you much prefer it to the dark blood-lust from before. This is the Mij you know. The one who jokes with you as he applies bacta patches to your injuries. The one who takes care of the soldiers who come to him for aid. The man who genuinely cares about the well-being of not just his men but all the others as well. Being around him has already combatted the darkness that lurks in Tipoca City.

“Let me have a look then.” Your fingers rest gently against his jaw, stubble prickling at your skin as you run your thumb along his bottom lip.

He looks at you with half-closed eyes that seem to beg you not to let him go as a ragged breath pushes past his lips. Has the six years on Kamino made him fell as desperate for the touch of another as it’s made you feel? Does he miss the feeling of being held and loved…even if it’s only for one fleeting night with a stranger you met in a bar.

“I think I know what it needs,” you say, hoping you’re not misreading the desire in his eyes.

His eyes crinkle with the smug look that takes over his face, and he leans in so close to you that your noses almost touch. “And what is that?”

You press your lips to his, and he wastes no time reciprocating and pulls you in deeper. A moan thunders through your body and escapes from your throat. His tongue delves into your mouth, chasing the sounds and trying to draw them out of you. He grabs your waist and pulls you roughly into his lap. You grip the edge of his armor, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears like the waves that crash against the large beams that hold the city above water, and gods you’re willing to drown in him.

A gasp rips from his mouth as your teeth sink into his neck. His pulse beats wildly against your tongue as you run it along the hot skin. The salt from his sweat is almost like a delicacy on this isolated water-world, and you haven’t tasted anything so wonderful in years. His hands wander your back, slipping under the hem of your shirt to explore the skin beneath as if the feel of your body alone could heal the loneliness that had settled in his soul. You grind your core against the hard beskar of his codpiece in search of any friction to relieve the throbbing in your cunt.

“Do you want to move this somewhere more comfortable?” he asks, nipping at your bottom lip. The deep, lusty sound in his voice is something you want to commit to memory forever.

“Please,” you breathe.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrap around his waist and you dive back in to worship the skin of his neck and throat, desperate to get his armor off and feel his body against yours. You came to his quarters to help him heal, but the way his mouth moves on your body makes you think that he’s still the one doing the healing tonight.

He gently lays you on the bed before he begins to unfasten each part of his beskar’gam and places it on the floor. He peels the top of his grey undersuit off and stands before you. The expanse of his skin is littered in small scars that you want to trace with your tongue. You want to find each and every one on his skin and under them and do your best to kiss away the pain that they’ve left. The rise and fall of his chest is shallow, and you wonder if he wants you just as bad as you’ve craved him for weeks.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Doubt fills his eyes as he draws his bottom lip into his mouth.

“You’re sure?” he questions. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not one-hundred percent comfortable with.”

You nod and move to sit on your knees at the end of the bed. “I want you. All of you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

His fingers run through your hair as he pulls you to him, moaning into your mouth as your fingers dance along the hard muscle of his chest and shoulders. Every dip and groove of his body is unexplored territory that you want to map out. The bulge in his pants brushes against your thigh, and you want nothing more than to take him in your mouth and take all the stress and tiredness away from those gorgeous grey eyes of his. You want to make him lose himself in you and forget about Dred shabla Priest and the aiwha-bait and the grief that haunts him like a dark shadow lurking in the crevices of his mind. You want nothing more than to draw out all the sadness and loneliness that clings to him and make him feel loved.

You pull him down onto the bed with you, his body a nice weight on yours that you can’t wait to enjoy later. But tonight is about him. Latching your arms around him, you roll him onto his back and kiss your way from his neck, down his chest, and to the waist band of his pants. The groan that ripples through his body is almost silent to your ears, but you feel it move through him like earth shifting below you. Running your tongue along the coarse hair below his navel, you release his cock from the confines of the dark fabric.

You grip the shaft of his member and revel in the sound of the ragged pants coming from that beautiful mouth of his as you stroke him. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you work him. The pupils of his eyes are blown wide as you smile sweetly up at him from between his thighs.

“Come here, Mesh’la” he whispers, reaching for you.

You shake your head. “No, I want to take care of you.” You lower your head to his cock, your eyes never leaving his. “Let me take care of you, Mij.

A shaky breath racks through him the moment your tongue swipes across the head of his cock. You savor the taste of the precum leaking from him before you take him in your mouth.

“Kriffff.” He hisses the word, elbows going out from under him. 

He grips the sheet in tight fists as his head falls back to the pillow. You moan around him at the sight, taking as much as you can in your mouth and wrapping your hands around what you can’t. His breathing comes in ragged pants, and the noises he makes is a symphony for only your ears. You haven’t heard anything this beautiful in years. Gods, you hope he’ll let you hear him more. You hope that this isn’t just one night to forget about the Hell you both agreed to be a part of. You’re tired of being lonely. You’re tired of rainy days and nights and those stupid long-necked Kaminoans. But this… this you don’t think you could ever tire of. The sound of him falling apart because of you. The look of devotion in his eyes as you take care of him. You want to him to look at you like that forever.

His fingers find your hair as he calls out a strangled warning, but you don’t stop your administrations. You want it. All of it. Whatever he’ll give you.

His back arches slightly as he fills your mouth with cum, and you swallow all that you can like a person starved. And gods, have you been starved in a way that you think only he could sate.

He reaches for you when you pull away from him. The hunger in his eyes still burns brightly as he smiles at you.

“It’s my turn to take care of you,” he says, pulling you up to him.

Placing your forehead to his, you whisper into the night, “You always do.”

[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