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clonehub · 2 months

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The Clones, Kamino, and Relationships

I've long speculated on what the clones' values would be as a people regarding every type of relationship they could possibly have with others around them -- antagonistic, romantic/sexual, professional, platonic, familial, etc.

Often times when making headcanons along these lines, people tend to project their own social upbringings onto the clones with or without realizing; they rely heavily on a reality that doesn't exist for the clones and then try to justify it with the same reality. Their analyses and theories and hcs end up flawed (and, for me, really annoying to read).

I'm sure you've all heard the fanon/headcanons that clones don't have the necessary and nebulously-defined "life experiences" that are required to mark them as adults. People think the clones lack a certain amount of knowledge about themselves and their bodies, and then others' bodies and how those work. They think the clones have no social awareness; I even saw someone say that clones wouldn't have had rivals, frenemies, or any negative interaction with other clones.

This long form and hopefully structured rant is going to lay out everything I think about how the clones were raised, why they're raised that way, and what that means when they interact with one another and with non clones.

Antagonistic Relationships

The clones argue. They fight. They disagree. We see this repeatedly in The Clone Wars and all throughout the Bad Batch. They disagree with superiors, both Jedi and non Jedi.

Disagreement within a group helps foster social bonds, can strengthen critical thinking/reasoning, and has a few other benefits I don't feel like listing out right now. Regardless, managing disagreements in a group requires conflict resolution skills.

The General Relationship Structure on Kamino

The clones must be taught to be loyal, to be amicable, and how to resolve conflicts within squads and bigger and bigger groupings of clones. The clones are going to war. They're trained soldiers. They have to be able to work on a team. Team work isn't just following orders and it isn't just being friends. That also means swallowing pride, setting aside ego, and even speaking up.

They can get jealous, they can be envious, they can have a whole host of complex feelings and emotions that they need to work through. The Drill sergeants would thus be instructed to be aware of and teach the clones who to work through this (whether they choose pats on the head or a fist is up to them).

I'm saying this to say that fandom often takes clones' "guns n battle" education a little (waaayy) too literally. They're not just given a gun at 2 and told to start firing. They need to be told that you can't turn that gun on your brother just because he said something annoying or you think he's dumb.

The Galaxy Outside Kamino

The clones learn about the galaxy outside Kamino. They get a heavily censored and propagandized history of the galaxy that plays up the Republic and absolutely villainizes anyone else, but they definitely do learn about the galaxy in general. They learn about other species, where those species are located, etc.

I say this to say that people like to act like the clones are so sheltered that they basically gawk at the mere existence of anyone who isn't a clone (so like....racist via ignorance?) which....I don't understand, really. The Kaminoans want to deliver a functioning and high quality product. They can't do that if they don't tell the clones that there's people out there that look different frmo you and speak a different language. A lot of clones are bound to interact with civilians; what sense is there in not prepping them for it?

These history lessons wouldn't even take too long to learn or anything like that. Some people like to headcanon that the clones' education schedule is so tight that they can't learn about "unnecessary" things (i.e. anything that isn't about guns n battle). But the clones are also fast learners. I think they can handle like two days of lessons about the galaxy's species.

Learning about the galaxy also requires --

Social Awareness

I've often seen headcanons that the clones, in one way or another, lack social awareness. "Non clones are basically an alien species! They're bound to ask loud, rude, ignorant, offensive questions! They're not shy, so they'd totally just strip in public if they need to!" (yes, I saw someone say this)

This comes from people infantilizing the clones and refusing to write or see them as the adults that they are. This is also severely shortsighted; again, being aware of the fact that the Kaminoans want a product that can do its job, who is helped by the clones blundering through greater society and destroying the genpop's trust in and comfort with them?

The clones get taught the basics of social politeness. They wouldn't manage the intricacies of cross-cultural interaction from two like high level senators, but that's not their job. They're polite, they're professional, they're aware of what is and isn't rude. They're self aware. They're adults.

Personal and Bodily Awareness

Sorry to the people who are weirdly misogynistic, but the clones also get comprehensive sex ed. It's inevitable that some clones are going to sleep with a non-clone. It's bound to happen! Rather than pretend it never does, the clones are told in detail about two things:

The human reproductive system.

Basic contraceptives and STI prevention.

part of maintaining the health and safety of any given population is making sure that they don't get sick. STIs are a way of getting sick. Part of maintaining the health and safety of a given population is managing unwanted or unexepcted pregnancies. Condoms prevent that. I think the medics have them and distribute them as-needed when they go on leave planetside.

So they get consent training (they'd have to, in order to learn how to interact with anyone ever in a normal and healthy way). The contours of consent would interact with their lifestyles in a contradictory way because they're also rather explicitly told they don't have the right to give/revoke consent over their own bodies, but they're at least told about other's bodies.

But here's the thing. The clones rarely. RARELY. Do end up having sex or a relationship because of two reasons:

They rarely interact with non-clones who are viable for sexual or romantic relationships (as in, most of the non-clones they're in contact with are COs and Jedi)

They themselves do not value sex and relationships to the extent that we do in our society.

for the first point: they're in battle a lot, and when they go on leave they face a society that does not like clones. There are anti-clone protests, 79s is one of the few bars that allows clones in, and when they're at battle they're notably not interacting with civilians for obvious reasons. The average jedi and non clone CO is not going to seek a sexual or romantic relationship with a clone.

This also presumes that clones don't sleep with other clones. I'm not giving ground on this. It's clear within canon that the clones view each other as true family. "Brothers" is not just "brother in arms", but quite literally a familial term for them. Fives' "same heart, same blood" speech in season 3 is evidence. Sister being called/naming herself Sister is another (her being transfem alone isn't enough; if they didn't view their familial relationships as fundamental to who they are, they would have given her a regular name, not Sister). They also refer to one another primarily as brothers, even when there's bad blood -- like Slick insisting that he did loves his brothers. Not comrades or friends or squad mates. Brothers. The entire 501st.

Frankly, the "they're bound to do it" view that many people seem to have is very bizarre to me. Who cares about proximity? What are their values as a people? What have they been taught? What do they believe? Why assume that any given clone would do that? Plenty of people spend a lifetime around their families without ever developing a desire to sleep with them. Who you grow up with can absolutely influence who you're attracted to, but not to this degree.

The assumption that clones MUST sleep with one another relies on a rather wide series of assumptions that just do the thing I complained about in the opener, which is rely on our own culture's values to write the clones. Which ties into point #2 up above:

The clones don't value sex or relationships as something they need to seek out. Yeah, they'd get horny. They're adults. It happens! Part of life. But what's socially considered an appropriate release of those feelings would be different from what we see in today's world. The drill sergeants wouldn't impress upon them the importance of having a partner, because how does that help them? How does it benefit the Republic, the civilians, the clones?

The clones are soldiers who were bred for war and are focused, first and foremost, on fighting and fulfilling their duty. Their most important social values are fighting, duty, and loyalty. Hierarchy, warfare, survival, etc. Can a clone seek out sex? Yeah! Is that even like, remotely common given the points I made above? No! Does the average clone chase civilians or even dream about relationships, sex, etc etc etc? Nope. They weren't taught to value it.

(This isn't to say that wanting these things makes a clone bad at their job, or that having sex means they're breaking a rule somewhere. They're not. it's just like how the majority of college students go for the most common majors because they're taught that those are valuable and desirable things to learn in school. You'll get one or two who have a concentration in something you've never heard of. They're not wrong for that, but they're definitely outliers)

So the average clone is a virgin that doesn't even think about it because it doesn't matter to them. They know about both male and female reproduction, and they know how to interact with civilians.

They're definitely sheltered. I highly doubt that any clone is given the skills necessary to manage like, romantic relationship problems, especially the really gritty ones. They're not told about their rights as beings, their ability to say no to most situations that involve a military CO. But they know about saying please and thank you, solving interpersonal conflicts, and about pads and tampons. They know about boundaries, appropriate behavior in public, and how to use a condom. They know about girlfriends and boyfriends and partners, they just don't generally care about them. They're rare -- not socially shunned, just rare. like the niche college concentrations.

A really good meta to read that I personally love is written by @canichangemyblogname and linked in his pinned. @saga-ordsmed also has a few interesting metas floating somewhere on her blog. theyre not about this topic in particular, but she's got interesting insights into the Republic.

I hope this was coherent enough. I wrote this mostly because I saw a contradictory post that pissed me off and I was yelling about it with friends in discord lol. Basically, the clones are adults, but don't presume that they have the same values that we do, or that the poeple in charge of their care and upbringing share our values either.

#ch posts #captain rex #star wars #fives #the clone wars #all the bros #clone troper #meta #commander wolffe #oooh the way this fandom treats clones gets on my nerves #a monumental inabilty to think outside the upbringing most of them have seen or experienced themselves #the presumption that the clones share our values but also dont know how to act in public and cant be trusted #the extensive and pervasive born sexy yesterday trope like AAAHHHHH use your BRAINS #this is like years ago when fanon was that the clones couldnt swim #fanon was bad enough to write jokey misogynistic fics about the clones esentially sexually harassing every woman around them #i still see fics about the clones not knowing how babies are made and its like if uou expect them to be having sex #bc these people always do #why would they. not know about that. who benefits from them not knowing. how does it make SENSE #tcw #swtcw #ugh.#kamino #clone headcanon #clone headcanons #ct7567 #star wars meta

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 6 months

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Comgratulations!!! Thats a interesting celebration!!! I can not put my mind around what are you going to birth with this 😚🙀 (sorry if sound weird english is not my thing but your writing are beautiful creations so the metaphor is alright)

Can this jedi (or medic) reader travel with Crosshair (It's a shame it can't be the twins or Maker bless us, all force 99) with soulmate as luggage to either Naboo or Alderaan? 😖

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Through Your Eyes

In a galaxy consumed by war, you find solace away from the medbay and injured troopers by painting your dreams. But a chance encounter reveals those dreams are more than they seem...

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: brief reference to surgery, good ol' soulmates trope, breaking and entering, Cross can never give a straight answer, softness, romance, first kiss, lil' innuendo.

Your brush swooped across the canvas, and green paint dragged across its surface to form a tree. There was no reference holo, just the memory from last night’s dream in your mind.

Over the last year, your dreams have taken a turn. Once focused on your life, they’d now switched to landscapes - deserts, snowy mountains, swamps - they were endless. But they all had one thing in common. They were all from great heights, as if you were a bird soaring through the sky.

As a child, you found peace in painting, locking yourself away for days at a time. As you grew up and left for medical school, it helped ease your frazzled nerves after hectic days. And now, with the war raging across the galaxy and the Kaminoans relying on your expertise in trauma surgery, it was how you chased away the images of injured troopers.

As you dipped your brush into the pot of water on your desk, your gaze lingered on the small mark on your wrist - your soulmate mark. It had appeared five years ago - late by society’s standards, given that most received them before puberty. That was until a literal army of men had been revealed to the galaxy a year ago. The forums you’d frequented on the holonet had exploded, thousands of people connecting the dots that their soulmates were part of the GAR.

It was why you’d jumped at the opportunity to work for the Kaminoans when they’d been recruiting at the Grand Medical Facility. You figured it would be easier this way to find your soulmate. Some people on the forums had been able to find their soulmates through their bonds – picking up on their thoughts, sensing their feelings, or knowing they were nearby. Unfortunately, you had no idea what your connection with your soulmate was.

And you were no closer to figuring it out a year and a half into the war.

As you were about to dip your clean paintbrush into the soft brown on your palette, your datapad beeped urgently. Spurred into action, you abandoned your painting, snagging your scrubs. You dashed out of your quarters, the sterile corridor a blur as you sprinted towards the medbay. What was the emergency this time? Another trooper injured on the front lines, or perhaps an existing patient who’d turned critical?

You burst through the medbay doors, adrenaline coursing through your veins, only to be met with a scene that halted you in your tracks. A trooper lay motionless on a stretcher, surrounded by a flurry of activity as medics tended to his extensive injuries. The damage to one side of his face was the worst you’d ever seen, blood coating everything in the vicinity, and what you could see of his eye under the swelling wasn’t promising – all evidence of an explosion he’d been too close to.

Three other troopers hovered nearby, worry etched onto their faces, armour dirty and caked in blood. You didn’t even register that they looked nothing like the other clones, but you could feel a heavy gaze from their direction lingering on you.

Without hesitation, you joined the team of medics, your training kicking in as you assessed the trooper’s condition. The severity of his injuries was apparent, and you knew that every second counted. As you worked alongside the other medical personnel, your mind raced, trying to determine the best course of action to save this soldier’s life.

The medbay hummed with urgency, the air thick with tension as everyone focused on their tasks. As you worked tirelessly to stabilise the trooper, Lyndsy - a trainee medic on placement from Bespin - pressed a datapad into your hands. It was filled with notes from the team that’d intercepted the squad’s arrival, including details of the trooper.

CT-9903.

You bit your tongue. They hadn’t thought to get his name.

“Name?” You directed the question towards the three nearby troopers, gesturing to your injured patient.

“Wrecker, ma’am.” The shortest of the three spoke up, his face half-shaded by a tattoo. With a nod of thanks, you updated the information on the datapad.

“Theatre. Now.” You barked the order, stepping back to let the other medics release the brakes on the stretcher and hurriedly push Wrecker towards the operating room. A bacta bath could cure many things, but in the few moments you’d been focused on stabilising him, you’d concluded it would take far more than that for him to survive.

“I’ll do everything I can.” You assured Wrecker’s brothers quickly, wishing you had more time to explain what would happen next but knowing every second counted. With a determined focus, you led the medical team into the operating room. As the doors swung shut behind you, you blocked out the outside world, immersing yourself in the controlled chaos of the operating theatre.

Time seemed to blur as you worked, your hands moving with precision as you repaired the extensive damage inflicted upon Wrecker’s body. Each incision, each piece of shrapnel pried free, each suture, was a calculated effort to save his life, and you refused to let fatigue or doubt get in the way. The beeping of monitors and the hushed voices of your colleagues faded into the background.

Finally, you completed the last suture. As you stepped back from the operating table, your heart pounded in your chest, and you let out a deep breath, shoulders dropping with relief. You’d done all you could; now it was the Bacta’s turn. He’d likely have some prominent scars for the rest of his life, and his hearing would forever be affected, but you’d been able to replace his damaged eye with a cybernetic one and give him a blood transfusion. He’d pull through to fight another day.

Leaving the operating room, you peeled off your gloves, gown, and mask, your mind still buzzing with the intensity of the surgery as you deposited them into the biohazard chute.

“I’ll tell his squad.” Lyndsy offered, noting the tiredness in your body.

As Lyndsy’s words washed over you, a wave of gratitude swept over you. Her offer granted you some reprieve. With a nod of appreciation, you managed a faint smile before trudging back to your quarters, the tiredness starting to creep in.

Entering your cabin, you let out a long exhale, feeling the tension slowly ebb away as you sank onto the edge of your bed. The familiar surroundings offered a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of war.

Scrubs off and buried under the comfort of your blankets, you found yourself drifting into a restless sleep. Gone were the beautiful landscapes you’d come to appreciate, replaced with images of Kamino, particularly the view from a large window. Even in sleep, your mind was working to place it, and judging by the perspective, you could pinpoint which structure it was from.

The barracks.

In the quiet corners of your mind, a realisation dawned. You hadn’t been having dreams of random landscapes; they were glimpses into someone else’s life, someone intimately connected to you. It explained the shift in your dreams, the sudden focus on places far removed from your reality. They were the places your soulmate had been seeing, the moments they had been living.

As you awakened to the soft light filtering through your window, the remnants of your dreams lingered in your mind. The realisation hit you like a ton of duracrete, settling heavily in your chest. Your soulmate was here on Kamino. The change in your dreams now made sense, and you couldn’t shake the excitement and apprehension coursing through you.

Before you could dwell too much on the revelation, there was a knock at your door. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before pushing yourself off the bed and crossing the room to answer it. As the door slid open, you were met with the unexpected sight of Wrecker’s brothers standing in the corridor.

After brief introductions, Hunter spoke up. “We just wanted to swing by and thank you for what you did last night. Wrecker’s gonna pull through, and we owe that to you.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was just doing my job. I’m glad I could help.” You answered, tucking yourself a little behind the door to hide the fact that you were still in sleepwear.

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes taking in the details of your quarters. You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the messiness of your living space.

“You paint.” Crosshair commented casually, his tone betraying none of the thoughts swirling in his mind as he looked over the landscapes you’d committed to canvas.

You reached up to play with the neckline of your sleep shirt, a nervous habit that had developed over the years. “Yeah. When inspiration strikes.”

Crosshair’s lips quirked up in a subtle smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flicking to the painting on the easel beside you. “You been there?”

“No. I paint what I dream about.” You admitted, trying to keep your voice steady despite your gut’s strange flicker of anxiousness.

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “Funny thing about dreams,” he mused, “sometimes they’re more than just figments of imagination.”

His words hung in the air, but before you could respond, Hunter cleared his throat, breaking the momentary tension. “Well, we should get going to the debriefing. Thanks again, doc.”

You nodded, thrown off-centre by Crosshair’s comment. “Of course. Take care, and I’ll check in on Wrecker later.”

As they turned to leave, Crosshair glanced at the painting you were currently working on before leaning toward you. “When you get around to painting it, the third tree from the right was missing the bottom five branches.” He murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. Then he followed his brothers down the corridor, leaving you mouth agape at the door.

For days, you couldn’t shake Crosshair’s comment from your mind. It added complexity to your interactions with him and his brothers, leaving you grappling with emotions you hadn’t anticipated.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your duties in the medbay, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Every time you passed him in the corridors or caught his gaze across the mess hall, you felt a strange pull, as if invisible threads were tying you together.

It wasn’t just you, either. There were moments when you caught Crosshair watching you, his sharp eyes giving nothing away. It left you wondering what was happening beneath the surface and what thoughts were running through his mind as he looked at you.

Returning one evening to your quarters after another exhausting shift in the medbay, you found something amiss. The door to your cabin was slightly ajar, and a sliver of dim light spilt into the corridor. Your heart skipped a beat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You cautiously pushed the door open, expecting the worst, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

Crosshair was inside your quarters, standing by the easel where your latest painting was. His attention was fixated on the canvas as if examining every brushstroke with precision. His presence in your private space sent a jolt of alarm through you, but you couldn’t deny the intrigue that accompanied it.

“Crosshair?” you ventured cautiously, stepping into the room with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “What are you doing here?” you asked, unable to suppress the hint of accusation in your voice.

Crosshair turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with those piercing eyes. “Admiring your work.” He replied casually, though there was a hint of something else in his voice.

You felt a surge of irritation at his nonchalant response. “It’s not polite to enter someone’s quarters without permission.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

He shrugged, unfazed by your admonishment. “Noted.” He commented, his gaze drifting back to the paintings. “Figured I’d see if you were around.”

You felt a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension at his words. “Well, here I am.” You said, gesturing to the room around you. “Not much to see, I’m afraid.”

Crosshair’s smirk widened into a grin, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.” He replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sent a strange sense of heat curling through you.

“How did you know about the branches?” You steered the conversation in what you hoped was a safer direction, shutting the door behind you before you crossed over to him, glancing at the painting.

Crosshair tilted his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’m familiar with that species of tree.” He lied.

You narrowed your eyes sceptically, not convinced by his explanation. “It was more than that.” You countered, gesturing towards the canvas. “You pointed out a specific detail you wouldn’t know unless you’d been there or inside my head.”

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s just say I have an eye for detail.” He said cryptically, his tone teasing.

You couldn’t help but feel frustrated at his evasive response. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest once more as you regarded him with curiosity and exasperation.

Crosshair turned to face you fully, a smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze intense. “Where’s the fun in that?” He replied, his tone playful.

You refused to back down. Holding his gaze, your lips pressed into a thin line.

The silence hung heavy in the air, and anxiousness clawed at Crosshair. He’d thought he could play dumb. He should’ve known better. With a heavy sigh, he gestured to your painting on the easel. “Myrkr. The coordinates for that spot are 42.3814° N, 80.0889° E. I was there eight rotations ago. It’s where Wrecker had his accident,” he confessed.

“Bormus.” He stated, gesturing to one of your other paintings leaning against the wall. “51.5074° N, -0.1278° W.” He rattled off the coordinates before moving on to another painting, and another, and another…

You’d seen glimpses of his life.

“Does this mean...?” You began, the words catching in your throat as you searched for the right way to express the flood of emotions coursing through you.

Before you could finish your sentence, Crosshair took a step closer, closing the distance between you until barely a breath of space separated you. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that stole your breath away, sending a jolt of electricity dancing along your skin. “I think it means we have a lot to talk about.” He murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

A thousand thoughts and emotions swirled through your mind, but in that moment, you could only focus on the undeniable pull drawing you towards him.

Crosshair’s hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a shockwave of warmth through you. His gaze softened. “I’ve been dreaming too.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile spell that had enveloped the two of you.

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. “What do you dream of?” You managed to ask, although you already knew the answer.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Crosshair’s lips, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheekbone. “Surgeries. Sterile medbays.” He answered. “While you get the landscapes I see, I get the shot regs and operations that you see.”

“Our link is sharing what we see.” You whispered, the realisation washing over you like a gentle wave. “Through our dreams.”

Crosshair nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Seems that way.” He agreed, his voice soft with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him. “I never imagined my soulmate would be a hot doctor.” He confessed, sliding an arm around your waist to hold you close, his fingers that had been against your cheek now pushing errant strands of your hair out of your face.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as warmth swept through you. One hand moved to rest against his chest. “And I never thought mine would be a handsome soldier.” You admitted, reaching up with your free hand to ghost your fingers across his sharp jawline, relishing the feeling of his closeness.

Lost in each other’s eyes, the world outside your quarters faded into insignificance. “What do we do now?” You asked quietly, entirely at a loss.

“I’d like to explore this further.” He confessed, his voice rough with emotion as his gaze dipped to your lips for a fraction of a second. “If you’re willing.”

You nodded, a smile playing across your face. “I’d like that.”

Pleased, Crosshair spared no time before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The galaxy ceased to exist. His lips were warm against yours, firm and demanding. You responded eagerly, your fingers dragging through his silver hair as you deepened the kiss, your heart pounding.

Crosshair pulled back, and you found yourself breathless and dizzy, your senses reeling from the intensity of the moment as his hands snaked towards your ass. Holding his gaze, you gasped quietly as his slender fingers grabbed at the curvature of your rear.

A smirk crossed his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not bad for a first kiss,” he remarked, his tone teasing, “but I think we can do better.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “Yeah?” You challenged.

He leaned in closer, the scent of regulation soap and blaster cleaner filling your senses. His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “These hands don’t just make perfect shots.” He whispered.

With a playful swat to his chest, you chuckled, feeling a surge of excitement and a healthy dose of nervousness. “You better be prepared to back that up.”

Crosshair grinned as he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Oh you can count on it.”

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees @padawancat97 @dangraccoon @jedi-hawkins @dreamie411 @sverdgeir

#Soaring's Tours Follower Celebration #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #ct 9904 #soulmate trope

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fanfic-obsessed · 1 year

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Not quite a fall

Here is an idea that takes the horrifying absurdity of the Clone Wars and magnifies it. Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times…unless you wish to become part of the ride itself. Then grab onto these characters and you too can try to wrangle them.

I do want to make it clear from the start that the Jedi Council and Dooku are making the best of some fairly shitty options, at this point and in the future. The Jedi do not know/cannot prove Palpatine is Sidious and the reality is that without absolute proof they risk being wrong and if they are then the real Sith master will go to ground and they will be left with nothing. In addition Palpatine has contingencies for every aspect of his plan (and likely did in canon as well, if he had a contingency clones for himself), including if clones were found early, the chips did not work as intended, and the Jedi found out too early. It may not be obvious, or seem counterintuitive for the Jedi to keep walking forward, even knowing of the trap, knowing that so many would likely die in this fabricated war. But this is not meant to be criticizing the Jedi for the shitty options they had.

Now we start with Yan Dooku, prior to his Fall. This is also before the Naboo crisis , in fact this is in the beginning when Palpatine is still manipulating him.

*-As a side note, have you ever tried to look into the timeline for the clones and try to fit it into the greater timeline. That shit is wild. Jango Fett is recruited for Operation Knightfall-Order 66 and the clone project- in 32 BBY. This is the same year of the Naboo crisis and, according to Wookiepeidia, it is also the year that Cody was born. Based on what we know of the Kaminoan numbering system for the clones, there were at least 2 batches before Cody’s-The Nulls and the Alphas. Jango Fett was recruited by Dooku after his Fall, and he is said to have fallen after Qui Gonn’s death. I get that Palpatine had already been building towards this but man for this timeline to work Dooku had a quicker Fall time than Anakin-who went from ‘stop him’ to ‘time to murder children’ in a distressingly short period of time- All this adds up to 32 BBY being, like, 2020 COVID levels of crazy. Because we had Qui Gon’s death, Dooku’s fall, the recruitment of Jango Fett-I understand there was a bounty hunt as an audition-, and all of this happened in enough time for at least 3 batches of clones- possibly more- to be born in 32BBY. How long is the gestation period for the clones? How is gestation and decanting set up so this timeline works. The Galactic Standard year is a 12 month/368 day model. Even if we presume that the double aging is also present in gestation, thus instead of 9 months it takes 4.5 months, that is still 13.5 months for 3 batches. Even with a staggered start cycles-batch 1 is the start point, batch 2 starts a week later, batch 3 starts a week after that and we can get everything down to a minimum 5 months, there still so much shit that has to happen in 7 months-*

In this Dooku, as a Jedi Master, does recognize that he is being manipulated and goes to the Jedi Council. He has just enough proof to prove that the Sith were back but does now know who (He knows that Palptine is involved but does not know if he is a Sith, a willing collaborator, or a patsy). The council decides that Dooku would go undercover as it were, to pretend that he is falling for Palpatine’s manipulation and to let it go to its natural conclusion, which they all presume will end with Dooku pretending to fall. Outside of the Council, there are only three other Jedi that are told of this assignment. Shadows Tholme and Quinlan Vos (though a senior Padawan at the time) were his contacts. The only other person told was Senior Padawan Obi Wan Kenobi, at the insistence of Mace Windu (Now this was not through some belief in Obi Wan as a person, or his value to such a mission. It was purely so that he could keep Qui Gon Jinn from flipping his lid when and if Dooku needed to pretend to be a Sith. Jinn was not told because no one thought that he could keep from endangering everyone through some ‘Will of the Force’ reasoning or trying to be ‘helpful’). Neither Obi Wan or the Shadows are told who else knows (though Vos and Thome do know the other is aware), and Obi Wan still has no contact with Dooku, so this knowledge does not change much at first. To be exceedingly clear, Obi Wan is only told that Master Yan Dooku is taking a long term mission where he might have to appear to Fall, in which case Obi Wan is going to need to keep Qui Gon from interfering; he is given no other information about to mission or what is being found. As it turns out Qui Gon dies just before Dooku ‘falls’.

The clones are still commissioned, but they are not chipped; save for a single clone whose name later becomes Chip, this is the clone that Dooku shows to Palpatine as proof the plan was going as it should. This Dooku is more involved with the Clones. Though the trainers do not know it (having entirely bought into project Knightfall), Dooku carefully teaches the clones th truth of their existence (that the war they are being commissioned for is BS, purely a trap for the Jedi and that they would have been designed to both love and be forced kill the Jedi). In essence he trains them to be spies in the guise of soldiers. He has reported the existence of the clones to the council, but like Dooku they are stuck by what they can visibly do with the information. There is some limited secret contact between the leaders of the clones (The Alpha’s as the Nulls had been adopted by Kal Skirata) and the Jedi Council, in which the Jedi Council apologizes for what is being asked of the clones and plans are made to help those that need an escape wherever they are able (Dooku ‘claims’ as many clones that were due to be decommissioned for his own ‘experiments’ as he is able, most of the time that meant that clones who were to be decommissioned were sent to live on a small, unpopulated moon in Serrano’s system-the exceptions to this were clones born with fatal, untreatable congenital defects, for example being without enough of their major organs that there would be no way to grow more before the child died in agony-those few who were truly not viable were given a painless death. It becomes a practice amongst the clones that anyone who truly did not want to fight would drop their scores into Decommission range).

To this end the Coruscant Guard were specifically chosen because they were the best at that kind of subterfuge, the clone equivalent of the Jedi Shadows and the ones who could keep themselves hidden/shielded against mind control 24/7. Fox is the only non Force sensitive, near human in the galaxy who is entirely impervious to Jedi mind tricks and Sith Mind control, the reason he was given the command that would have given him the most contact with Palpatine. They find out, much later, that some strange mutation makes him entirely impervious to any Force based power that will cause him harm.

When the time comes to enact the plans to start the war, Dooku still sends Jango Fett to lure Obi Wan to Geonosis. But Obi Wan goes to Kamino knowing that he was going to find the Clones (having been briefed by the Council, who had been informed by Dooku). Anakin is not aware of the second layer to their mission to protect Padme, having never been brought into the loop regarding Dooku. Obi Wan and Dooku have a pleasant conversation about both Qui Gon (and how he was likely watching from the Force), and there is a plan in place for Obi Wan to escape before the gladiatorial arena in a way that still would spark the war, but not cost lives. That plan had to be abruptly scrapped when Anakin and Padem showed up on Geonosis to ‘rescue’ Obi Wan, after they sent a message to the council. One of the major changes to Geonosis is how Anakin lost his hand; it was not chopped off by Dooku but lost in an explosion caused by the droids.

Here is where we start to get into the horror and the humor. Because this war is fabricated, a thing of smoke and mirrors whose sole purpose is to collect power for a few individuals. More importantly this is a Bullshit created war for the purpose of trapping the Jedi. The upper command on both sides (Jedi High council, Dooku and later Ventress, Palpatine, Grievous) know that the entire war is bullshit, though Palpatine does not know that the JHC are aware. The troopers, from the youngest to the oldest clones, are all utterly aware that the war is bullshit. They grew knowing they would be fighting in a war that was utter bullshit. The reason that the Droids could not be programmed for critical thinking was that it took them a maximum one battle to realize the war was bullshit, and they were not pleased about being cannon fodder.

In fact there were only two groups who were actually affected by the war that were not aware that the entire thing was contrived bullshit.

Every office not part of the high command (non clone officers, Jedi Generals, the entire command structure between fielded droids and CIS Generals on Grievous's level-I have no idea how the command structure of the CIS army works and barely any more about the GAR structure but work with me here), which I tend to think of as the middle management is the first group.

The other is the innocents being attacked by CIS forces. To them the war is very real.

Until they know for sure who the Sith Master is Dooku, the Jedi High Command(now including a fully read-in Obi Wan), or the Clones cannot let on that they know the war is ultimately bullshit. And there are too many innocents at stake to completely blow off or fake fighting. Yes when Dooku, and Ventress after she is brought into the fold, are in command they tend to try and take worlds with resources but little to no populations and they disengage as soon as they possibly can, but there are too many who buy into ‘The War’ or the power that they are getting to fake battles and in battles someone is bound to die.

Imagine being one of the Jedi Councilors and high generals, knowing (instead of just suspecting) that every battle they go into is unnecessary bullshit to trap the Jedi. Knowing that their troopers know that they are being sent into battle for unnecessary bullshit, but everyone having to pretend that they buy into the bullshit, that they have to pretend ignorance of things so gallingly obvious.

-In this world the Jedi council has created a secret process for allowing the defection of troopers that do not want to fight. Pong Krell (who never got to the point of Falling, as he never got used to thinking the clones were non sentient) and a handful of other Jedi spread throughout the system's armies, maintained a deliberately high ‘casualty’ rate to go with their high success rate. Clones that wanted to defect were transferred to these specific battalions where they were ‘killed in action’ and transported to a way point that relays them to the planet the decommissioned clones went to. None of these Jedi know that Dooku is actually on their side, or that the whole war is bullshit, but they are able to hang onto their sanity a bit better for this process. -

Picture Dooku, and later Ventress, staring across the battlefield as horrified at the lives being taken as the Jedi. Still having to pretend to buy in, saying all the right things (Ventress does still take Wolffe’s eye, but it is Wolffe’s idea to help sell that Ventress is not ‘too soft’ on the clones she is fighting). Imagine having to calculate the exact point they can withdraw, when they have to press their victory for appearances. Knowing that they (as Ventress was completing her Jedi training under Dooku, who does not want her to be lost to the darkside) have to reconcile killing for the sake of appearances. Having to bury their own horror when they work with other CIS high command, who very much know that the entire war is bullshit but don’t care, or are actively enjoying, the lives lost.

It changes some details, both major and minor, on who dies when, but in the grand scheme of things this knowledge does not change the overall trajectory of the war (though Dooku is not killed). It is still three years in that Palpatine tells Anakin (who, at no point, is brought into the loop about Dooku, the defection of clones, or any of it-mostly because no one not in a very strict ‘need to know’ was told and partly because the Jedi Council allowed the clones themselves to decide who would know about the defection battalions; they could not quite convince themselves that he would not share that information where he should not) that he is the Sith Master. Anakin runs to tell Windu.

But in this, instead of gathering the council to fight Sidious, Windu’s first action is to comm Fox. All he says to the head of the CG is, ‘Palpatine has just confirmed that he is the Sith Master’.

Fox responds with, ‘I will comm you when it is done’.

Anakin is standing there, breathing heavily from running all the way from the Senate, very unsure what was going on but certain the announcement that Palpatine was a Sith should be taken with some more urgency than Windu was showing.

Ponds enters and when he is told who the Sith is he sighs, deeply. “I was so sure it was that odious aide of Palpatine’s” (Whom Pond refers to only by the name of Bastard, if at all).

Just as Anakin is starting to become antsy (very much in the mindset of ‘shouldn’t we do something about the professed Sith in the same building as my secret wife?) Fox comms back. His hair is sticking straight away from his head (he found out that Palpatine’s Lighting did not hurt him the old fashioned way) and reports that Palpatine is very dead (each Guard wanted to make sure…and shooting is a good way to make sure), the Senate is in lockdown, to tell Skywalker that his wife is on a medical transport for the Temple’s Healing Halls (using those exact words),and that Fox will be filing a formal complaint against the Naboo education system for poor sex ed.

After the call is done, the next call Windu puts in is to Dooku. Windu tells Dooku that it is time to come home. Anakin watches horrified fascination as Dooku visibly sags with relief, saying that he and Ventress just need to tie up some loose ends here and to have a therapist ready.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #fanfiction prompt #obi wan kenobi #star wars au #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #bamf obi wan #no order 66 #count dooku #dooku #Dooku did not go dark #the clone wars #Clones deserved better

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laurabwrites · 4 months

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WIP I'm Accepting I Will Never Write

My brain has been generating too many Star Wars ideas for me ever reasonably get around to writing all of them, so I'm going to start dumping them on here (maybe AO3 as well, not sure yet) once I've accepted it's an idea I won't get to. So, to start off:

Anakin got Arrested at the Start of the War

In this one, Anakin's massacre on Tatooine was revealed shortly into the war (Qui-Gon Jinn's ghost, A'Shared Hett or Padmé having a conscience, doesn't matter it's not the point of the idea and I don't think it affects the plot). Anakin goes to Jedi jail in the Temple and the war proceeds apace.

At the end of the war, when Palpatine sets off Order 66, the Temple Guard who in another timeline became the Grand Inquisitor lets Anakin out. They would be killing all the Jedi, but somehow the Jedi have been alerted and the Temole seems strangely light on clone troopers they could be using as backup. The Grand Inquisitor knows this, Anakin doesn't. He's been in Jedi jail and has no idea what normal operations in the Temple have looked like for the past three year. They manage to get to the atrium of the Temple with the objective of getting out and rounding up some clone troopers to come back with. Except there's this Tortuga fighting both of them. She's not getting in any hits in on them but this scrappy, can't be more than 16, 17-year-old is holding both of them off while simultaneously organizing the Padawans and Initiates to grab younglings and run.

Then the 212th enters, Cody and Rex frog marching Obi-Wan in.

Which gives Anakin the opportunity to villain monologue about the Jedi Order not understanding emotion, they threw him away, Palpatine recognizes his true power, Obi-Wan will see the destruction of everything he holds dear, blah blah blah. Basically entitled white boy I did no wrong (ignore the dead children), you'll regret being so mean to me (enforcing the consequences of my own actions), ranting regurgitating Palpatine's bullshit about Jedi.

Meanwhile, the Grand Inquisitor is noting that a lot of kids are safely getting the fuck outta Dodge and the 212th is getting some good lines of fire. Why are they letting Anakin monologue instead of enacting Order 66?

Finally as Anakin is winding down, Obi-Wan speaks up: yes but, you see, you made one critical mistake.

Anakin, sneering: oh what's that

Obi-Wan: you hurt your Padawan-sister

Obi-Wan Force pushes Ahsoka and every remaining kid out of range while the entire 212th opens fire on Anakin and Grand Inquisitor.

Inquisitor is dead on the ground (sorry buddy, you were just a plot device to get Anakin out of his cell and show off how badass Ahsoka is with Soreasu mixed into her Jar'dai (I think I spelled those right...)). Anakin is on his Force bullshit, not quite dead, as Obi-Wan, Cody, and Rex come over to check.

Anakin: you won't finish me off, you're a Jedi, you're too weak.

Rex putting three rounds in his chest and three in his head: I'm no Jedi, slaver.

Backstory to get to this scene that slammed into me like a ton of bricks months and months ago:

212th never split the 501st off since Anakin wasn't there to get Knighted. Therefore Fives went to Obi-Wan when he found the chip. Obi-Wan got Shaak Ti to distract the Kaminoans, so Quinlan (or another Shadow, but I like using Quinlan for the known connection to Obi-Wan) could dig in Kaminoans' files and find documentation as well as an emergency counter signal. Obi-Wan dechipped his battalion anyway, not wanting to rely on the counter signal being permanent. They then jammed Coruscant's communications when Cody got the Order from Palpatine. 212th then uses the counter signal on the Corries, as they go to the Temple to grab whatever Masters were on planet. The clones and a fourth of the Council go kill Palpatine as he's declaring the Empire on the floor of the Senate.

#star wars #writing #ideas I won't get to #order 66 fix-it #anakin Skywalker's tusken raider massacre reveal #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #captain rex #212th attack battalion #ahsoka tano

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kybercrystals94 · 7 months

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Brave

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 26 | Prompt 26: “Help them.”

Rated: G | Words: 428 | Summary: Omega has to be brave for her little brothers. [Character Focus: Omega]

She tries. She tries so hard to keep the tears from falling, to keep her breath even. But another hiccuping sob makes her guardian cast her a disapproving glance.

“Omega,” Nala Se scolds, “either compose yourself or I will have you removed.”

Omega’s fingers curl into tight fists, but she keeps them pressed at her sides. “I don’t want them to go,” she dares to say, voice small.

The Kaminoan sighs, a long hiss of air. “We’ve been over this countless times, Omega. The experimental units cannot stay in the lab. They are not your pets. Their purpose is not to provide you with companionship. They are weapons. They are soldiers.”

“They are my brothers!” Omega protests. “Please, let me go with them. I can help them!”

“You can do nothing for them, Omega,” Nala Se says. “You are not like them, and they are not like you. Now, if you cannot keep your emotions in check, I will have you escorted from the room and you will not say goodbye.”

Omega knows she means it. If Nala Se is anything, she is true to her word. Omega has to be brave for her brothers, she has to tell them goodbye. That she’ll find them again. Even if they won’t understand or remember. Omega will. That’s what matters right now.

“I’ll be better,” Omega says bravely.

After a slow and critical stare, Nala Se grants Omega two minutes to give her final goodbyes to the little ones she has helped cultivate since their tubes. Because of their enhancements, they were allowed to be raised to some extent by “natborn standards,” whatever that means. The four toddlers are strapped into their transportation cart, their large dark eyes watching Omega as she approaches.

“It’s okay,” she tells them, rubbing a fist over her eyes to erase the tears that linger on her lashes. “We’re going to be okay. We will be apart for a while, but I promise…” She glances to where Nala Se is across the room, then Omega leans in and whispers, “I’ll find you again.”

The little 99 with enhanced senses reaches out to her with pudgy hands, wanting to be picked up. Omega shakes her head. “I can’t,” she whispers, letting him wrap tiny fingers around hers. “I’m sorry.”

When the lab assistant comes to push the cart away, the tiny clones begin to cry.

But Omega doesn’t cry as she watches them go. She has to be brave. Because she will find them again.

And she will help them.

No matter what Nala Se says.

END

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#Febuwhump 2024 #Febuwhumpday26 #Prompt 26: Help them.#star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb omega #baby batch

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ranahan · 10 months

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Mando’a demonyms: -ad or -ii?

Some Mando’a speakers have headcanoned that the -ii suffix is pejorative (probably because it appears in words like kaminii and aruetii, and a Kaminoan is kaminii but a Mandalorian is mando’ad). But it also appears in neutral/positive words like parjii and prudii, so it could also be analysed as purely neutral agent suffix. Here’s my attempt at a more nuanced interpretation that incorporates both views (and also gives us twice as many words, yay):

The difference between the two forms of demonyms is one of perspective/belonging and degree of emotional affect.

Linguistically, X-ii is more of a neutral agent (“X-ian”), X-ad could be translated as “child of X” as a noun (the most common usage) or also as “having the characteristics of X” or “having the characteristic quality of X” as an adjective (-ad also appears as an adjectival suffix, this is my current working translation for that sense). The neutral adjective would be one with -la/-yc suffix.

In practice

So let’s have some real world examples! Let’s say that I’m born in Sweden (which I’ve translated as Svarya; Svarye would be more faithful phonetic transliteration, but the -e ending kind of looks like a plural and I like the -a ending for place names better… it’s a work in progress. let’s just go with it for the sake of the example). I’m more likely to call myself a svaryad and my neighbours in Finland (which I’ve transliterated as Suumi) suumiise—a purely neutral connotation and used also in news etc. However, if I was an immigration-critical right wing swede, I might call myself and other Sweden-born swedes svaryade but naturalised immigrants svaryiise—a more questionable connotation (but it also could be neutral in some cases: if I was a Finnish-born Swedish citizen who still held sentimental ties to their Finnish identity, I might call myself suumad and svaryii). If I was a racist piece of shit, I might call all dark skinned swedes svaryiise—a pejorative connotation.

A native Japanese might call themselves a nihonad, but western immigrants living in Japan nihonii (somewhat similar to “gaijin”). That would be a whole different context from my Swedish example, with whole another set of connotations. Words for white people or western immigrants are found in many languages and with many connotations, some pejorative, some not. So the implications of the choice between -ad and -ii would entirely depend on who was speaking, where and to whom.

Another situation where you might use -ad instead of -ii is if you wanted to invoke a sense of national pride or unity. So for example, the Finnish right wing nationalist party True Finns would be translated as Haat’Suum’ade. You would also be 600% more likely to see an -ad ending in news around Independence Day, and if there were Ukrainian news in Mando’a, there would be nary a single ukrainii to be seen and instead every Ukrainian would be ukrainad, but all Russians would be rusii. Otherwise newsreaders either give everyone -ii (or in national news -ad for their countrymen and -ii for everyone else), except -ad for peoples (in plural—svaryade would be “the Swedish people”), indigenous people, and national heroes.

For adjectives, if you were talking about Swedish businesses for example, you would use svaryala (or should it be svaryc, hmm…)—a neutral connotation. Svaryad as an adjective would be “having the essential characteristics of swedenness”, so for example, lagom is a svaryad quality and fika is a svaryad custom.

Many words for many Mandalorians

In the Mandalore sector, there would probably be a term with -ii suffix for civic citizens/residents of Mandalore who are not Mandalorians (i.e. have not taken the creed). Possibly mandalasii (from Manda’lase, Mandalorian space—mandalii would probably be Mandallian).

So let’s say you’re addressing a New Mandalorian: you have a whole range of different terms with different connotations and levels of insult at your use. You could call them:

mando’ad, “a mandalorian”, implying that you don’t see the creed as a non-negotiable part of Mandalorian identity and are probably a New Mandalorian or a sympathiser yourself;

evaar’ad, if you held some sympathies toward them or were at least polite enough to call them by the name they call themselves (even if only to their face);

naak’tsadii, lit. pacifist, a member of peace movement (naak’tsad), mostly a Kalevalan/Sundarian term, implying that you’re probably also either a Kalevalan/Sundarian or share those politics;

arakaanii, a Northern/Keldabian word for a pacifist (lit. “against war”), implying that you’re not one yourself;

arakaanad, a little kinder term for a pacifist, more akin to “a child of pacifism” or “a descendant of the pacifist movement” (the dictionary term would be arakaanii, swapping it for arakaanad would soften it—but since -ad is also for children, it could also come off as patronising depending on context!);

mandalasii, if you held the centrist opinion (one of the many) that you’re willing to tolerate the pacifists, but if they won’t follow the Resol’nare, then they should also accept the same rights, responsibilities and restrictions as other residents of Mandalore who are not Mandalorians. The degree of insult would be highly context-dependent—one thing to call them that during peace talks, another in a cantina;

ka’gahtii, “southerner”, a slang term for a person living on Mandalore's southern continent, a Sundarian, or a Kalevalan immigrant or a person of Kalevalan background living on Mandalore—mostly negative connotations implying Sundarian political leanings which you don’t share;

aruetii, “outsider”, if you wanted to be insulting and highlight their ties to the Republic;

dar’manda, “no longer Mandalorian”, which is one of the worst insults out there, if you wanted to highlight them giving up their traditions and say that they’re not even a Mandalorian anymore.

A droid is a droid is a droid

Several Mando’a speakers, myself among them, have headcanoned that the word for droid should be besad, “child of metal”, not beskar’ad, since beskar is specifically culturally important Mandalorian steel. As an aside, I think the prototypical metal for a spacefaring civilisation should be steel, not iron (unless it’s some yet unknown super metal, but let’s go with steel for best usability to actual speakers today). Iron would be the special case of steel, so perhaps it has a different name altogether or it’s called something like ne’tra bes/netra’bes, “black steel”. So my modified dictionary definitions are (shortened here for convenience):

besad (or bes’ad)—droid

bes—metal, steel

beskar—Mandalorian steel

Anyway.

The standard, neutral word for droid is besad. If you call a droid besii, you’re specifically choosing to not use the standard word, and the connotation is pejorative, implying a lack of sentience. Besii is a backformation from besad, switching the -ad suffix (in this context, the English equivalent would be -man) for -ii (which in demonyms can be either neutral or pejorative, but commonly used for outsider groups)—the implication is that droids are not "us", not people. But you could also call a particularly gutsy droid beskar’ad (looking at you R2D2)—implying they’ve got the droid equivalent of mandokar. Or you might perhaps use beskar’ad for an armoured battle droid, because of the word’s similarity to beskaryc, armoured.

In conclusion

If this sounds complicated, well that’s because languages are complicated. Languages are systems of words and metaphors. Words aren’t defined by words in other languages, but by their relationships to other words in the same language. So it’s the choice of which word to use that matters as much if not more as the word itself or its etymology. I hope I’ve caught some of that realism here.

So there you have it: -ii can be neutral or pejorative depending on the context; -ad is empathetic and highlights a sense of belonging. Now go out there and be exactly as insulting as you mean to!

p.s. Yes, I have a whole fat ass table of transliterated country names and derived demonyms and adjectives etc. which I came up when I was laid down with a flu. It’s a work in progress figuring out how to transliterate different languages with different phonologies and different writing systems into Mando’a. I’ll get it out there someday.

#mando’a #mandoa #mando’a language #mandalorians #mandalorian culture #star wars meta #mando’a linguistics #ranah talks mando’a #mando'a #meta: mandalorians #mando’a morphology

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techs-goggles9902 · 4 months

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Two Souls Entwined

Part 4 (Eventual) Captain Rex x oc

A/N: HOLY SHIT GUYS IM BACK. I COOKED UP A STORM THIS TIME. These are my personal headcannons so if you don’t like them you’re welcome to leave 🤩 feel free to criticize I love criticism. Not beta read (as always) 😆

Word count: 2883 (went way overboard)

No warnings unless you’re scared of mean Kaminoans

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR FAN FICTION. QUEUE: 3

“Fierfek…”

“If you’re thinking of leaving, Kal, you know the deal. Su’cuy, Niva,” a voice says from beside the pair of stunned mandos.

Jango Fett stands before them, looking out the window as well.

“Jango, you said-”

“I said you’ll be training special ops troops. They just happen to be growing them.”

“What?”

“Clones…” Niva says before Jango can answer Kal. “Clones of Jango.”

“I knew you were the brains, ad’ika,” Jango chuckles, grinning at the girl.

“How the fierfek did you get involved?” Kal asks.

“A good five million and a little something special. Don’t look so surprised, you would do the same.” Jango looks between Kal and Niva before gesturing for them to follow him down the glossy corridor. Niva’s senses are overwhelmed as she looks between the toroids.

She blinks rapidly as thoughts spiral in her brain. They aren’t her own and they change as she looks between the towers. It’s like the fetuses are speaking to her. She pauses and looks at one tower specifically, squinting slightly as her gaze lands on a certain tube. The fetus floats in the translucent liquid, an umbilical cord abnormally curling around its leg.

“Niva, c’mon,” Kal shouts from down the hall. Niva hesitantly pulls her eyes away from the baby to jog back to her adoptive father.

If something was wrong, the Kaminii would know. They would know. The baby’s fine.

“You’re both dead now, don’t worry about it, Kal,” Jango says. Niva must’ve missed a bit since they’re both mid conversation about something.

Right… I’m dead.

“So, Ilippi threw your sorry shebs out?” Jango asks Kal, who’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his ex-wife.

“Yeah.”

“Told you, you should've married a Mando girl. Aruetiise don’t understand the mercenary way.”

Niva’s eyes narrow involuntarily as Jango brings up Ilippi. She refused to let Kal take their 8 year old sons into war with him, and soon, Kal’s family were no longer waiting for him to come back.

Didn’t let those kids go into battle, what an outsider! I turned out fine, Niva thinks.

“Ko Sai said something wasn’t right about the first batch of clones. They’ve been tested and I don’t think they’ll make the military grade, but I’ve told Orun Wa we’d look at them before… you know,” Jango explains.

“I don’t. Please elaborate,” Kal says.

“You’ll see.” Jango leads them down the hall, ushering them into a nearby room.

“Welcome, gentleman,” says Orun Wa in his peaceful monotone, not even addressing Niva, with a gentle tilt of his head. The Kaminoan has a bony fin going down the back of his head and to the nape of his neck.

“So the first batch have been confirmed as below the accepted standard?” Jango asks.

“These units are defective, I admit there was an error made while enhancing the genetic template.” Orun says, craning his slender neck to call out to someone in the corridor. “Bring them in.”

Niva turns as the door opens, glancing at Kal. He gives her a small nod, putting a hand on her shoulder. Six pairs of footsteps enter the room. Niva notices: the footsteps are close together, shorter strides instead of longer ones that would fit an adult.

Kal turns, his eyes widening as he looks down. Six identical boys - maybe four, maybe five at the most - walk into the room.

These are children, not soldiers… not droids… not units… little kids.

All had identical curly black hair and dark blue tunics and pants. Both Kal and Niva expected grown men, not…

“Kids… Kal’buir…” Niva can’t take her eyes away from the boys as she whispers to Kal. His hand leaves her shoulder as Jango inhales sharply. The boys huddle together, one of them holding his arms back like he’s shielding his brothers from Orun Wa, two boys clutching each other as they look at Kal with their big, dark, unblinking eyes.

Oh… He’s defending his brothers…

It rips at Niva’s heart, reminding her once again of her brothers. She figured out fast that Kaminoans didn’t tolerate anything that doesn’t meet their society’s principles of perfection. Maybe they don’t know that it’s often imperfection that gives humans an edge?

She hears Orun Wa, Jango, and Kal talk about the boys, but she can’t bring herself to tune in. Not that she understood most of what they said, anyway. Her Basic wasn’t as up to par as she’d like. She spoke with a slight accent, just barely there, pronouncing some letters and words differently than born Basic speakers.

Three of the boys look up at Niva with their big round eyes. Niva tries to smile and give them a wave, but all three flinch as her hand raises, making Niva immediately put her hand down.

One of the kids mimics her wave, his scared expression softening a bit. Niva grins at him and he bares his teeth in an attempt of a returning smile.

“What do you mean by reconditioned?” Kal says, drawing Niva back into the conversation. She obviously missed a lot.

“In this case, termination. These units cannot follow orders and are simply too unreliable, failing to meet the personality profile required,” Orun Wa replies casually.

“Terminated? They’re children!” Niva says, gesturing to the boys.

“Niv…” Kal mumbles, placing a hand on her shoulder again. Evil is supposed to be dark and menacing… not soft-spoken.

Then Kal registers what they meant by terminating. Within a second, his clenched fist is at Orun Wa’s chest. “You touch any of those kids, you gray freak, I’ll skin you alive and feed-”

“Steady,” Jango says, pulling Kal’s arm back.

“This is uncalled for, we only care for our customer’s satisfaction,” Orun Wa states. Niva watches with wide eyes, instinctively stepping towards the boys. Kal hears his heart thundering in his ears, yanking his arm out of Jango’s grip, stepping in front of the kids, who were silent. His eyes never leave Orun’s yellow irises.

Jango grips Kal’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. Don’t. Leave this to me.

“We could do with a few wild cards,” Jango carefully says, stepping between the Kaminoan and Kal. “It’s good to have a few surprises for the enemy, no? How old are they?”

“Two standard years.”

Niva’s jaw literally drops to the durasteel floor. The boys look older, though. Kal slowly puts his hand back to place his palm on the head of the defending boy’s head. But small fingers clasp onto his calloused hand instead. A helpless gesture. Kal swallows hard. Two years old.

“I’ll train ‘em. What’re their names?” He asks, looking between Jango and the Kaminoan.

“All units are numbered,” Orun Wa starts.

“We can… give them names… right?” Niva speaks up quietly. All three men look at her. Kal gives her a discreet hand signal: later.

“Anyway, our quality control designated them as Null class and-”

“Null? As in, no di’kutla use?” The veins in Kal’s neck have never been so prominent.

“Kal, leave this to me,” Jango breathes.

“No, they’re not units, Jango.” The little hand was holding on for dear life. Another boy comes up and wraps his little arms around Kal’s leg.

To Niva, the next minute goes by so fast. Before she can even blink, the boy thrusts his fingers into Kal’s boot, taking out the hidden blaster, tossing it to the boy who’s holding Kal’s hand.

The boy caught it cleanly and pointed it at Orun Wa, his little fingers just barely holding the blaster steady.

“Osik,” Jango sighs. “Put it down, kid.”

But the boy held the weapon at the perfect angle, left hand steadying the right, eyes focused on his target. Niva looks between the men, flabbergasted at how calm Jango is.

I couldn’t protect them… so… maybe I can protect these boys…

“Hey, bud,” Niva says, gently putting a hand on the boy’s arm as she kneels down beside him. “Put it down, yeah? No need for shooting anybody, kyr’ika. Give me the blaster.”

He doesn’t budge, barely blinking.

“You’re safe, lad,” Kal’s voice is soft as he squats down beside the kid, nodding to Niva, a silent indicator that he’s got this. “Come on… put it down. There’s a good lad. Now give me the blaster.”

The boy lowers his arms slowly, “Yes, sir…” He hands the blaster to Kal, who scoops him up.

“Good lad…” Kal lowers his voice to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Nicely done, too.”

A small hand tugs Niva’s, making her look down. Two pairs of big eyes stare up at her, one boy mimicking the wave she gave them earlier. Niva grins and waves back with her free hand. She crouches down so she’s eye level with the boys.

“Hi, I’m Niva,” she holds out her hand. The boys stare at it and then one of them shakes her hand with his little fingers.

“I’m N-7 and that’s N-10,” he says, meeting her gaze.

“Pleasure, boys. We’ll work on names later, yeah?” Niva keeps up her smile. N-10 looks at N-7, nudging him with his elbow. Niva can barely hear under his breath as he whispers to N-7, “I wanna shake her hand, let go.”

Niva lets out a small laugh, N-10 now holding her hand and meeting her gaze just like N-7. These were little boys but were so much like grown men. She’s aware of Kal and Jango speaking behind her.

“What kind of armor is that?” N-10 asks.

“It’s made out of beskar. It’s Mandalorian - do you know what that is?” Niva replies. Both boys shake their heads. “Well, I’ll teach you.”

“You talk funny,” N-7 chimes in.

“So do you, little man.” The boy’s eyes widen as he looks at N-10, who gives him the same wide eyed look. Niva can see N-7 mouth silent words to his brother, We talk funny? She smiles at the pair’s sudden realization.

“Ad’ika, let’s go.” Kal looks down at his daughter, the little marksman who pointed the blaster at Orun Wa on his hip. Niva nods and stands, her hand slipping from N-10’s much smaller one.

Niva doesn’t even need to help Kal take the six boys to their quarters. The tiny soldiers silently march behind the two Mandos.

The walk back to the room was eerily silent. Kal occasionally tried to make simple conversations with the boys, all attempts ending in one word answers from various kids.

Niva could hear the boy’s thoughts and felt their emotions. Not a clear thought, though, just a jumbled mess entangling with her own thoughts. Multiple voices spoke to her as she walked beside her father figure, some small and quiet, others prominent and deafening.

As the group walked down the sterile halls of Kamino they passed lines of other clones, all the same age as the Nulls, marching in the opposite direction. One of the boys caught her eye, his shaven head differentiating him from his brothers.

He caught her eye, his amber irises following her green ones as they passed each other. His thoughts melted into her own. The bridge of Niva’s nose pulsed with a deep ache, silencing her overcrowded mind.

“Ad’ika… Niva, are you okay?” Kal’s voice broke her trance.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Headache, ‘s all, Buir.”

“Mm… Have you ever finished that story of yours? Remember, the one you wanted to write before we met?”

”I remember. No, I haven’t done much with it since then. Should I?”

”Maybe. Just find something inspiring, like these little lads.” Kal reaches back to ruffle one of the boy’s hair.

“In… In what?”

“Something that gives you ideas, ad.”

The first night with the boys was… something. Niva hardly slept with two little four year old boys clinging to her all night, their little fists white knuckling her sleep shirt.

Kal settled on names for all six of them, taught them a bit of mando’a, filled their little bellies with uj cake, realized how traumatized they were, and knocked out with Ordo - N-11 - on his lap.

N-7 and 10 - now Mereel and Jaing - clung to Niva as if she were their lifeline. They held her pant legs tightly in their little fists when they walked down the corridors or just to the ‘fresher. Whenever she’d ruffle their mops of brown curls they’d look up at her with a confused look, not aware it was a sign of affection.

The first time she did so, Mereel looked terrified, his pools of amber going wide, like his eyes were taking over his little face.

What did the kaminiise do to you boys…

Niva eventually worked up enough courage to begin wandering the halls of Tipoca City in her spare time, finding training areas and barracks under construction for the millions of clones that will eventually call this sterile place home - or as close to home as possible.

On her fourth day of exploration, she saw the kaminioan. Of course there were kaminiise everywhere, it was Tipoca City, but this one was different. She sat on a tall bench - built specifically for kaminioans - overlooking one of the few functioning training areas.

Her skin, a sickly gray, shined in the light. Her large black eyes with blue-gray irises were focused on the cadets through the glass. Niva was intrigued by her, the way she looked at the cadets like they were roba up for slaughter.

Niva made a habit to walk past her on her walks since the kaminioan always sat there at the same time everyday. A couple days after first seeing her, she spoke up, not looking away from the cadets.

“Can I help you, Ms. Niva Veen?” She startled Niva, stopping her in her tracks.

“How do you know my name?”

“I read your file, Mandalorian. May I ask why you’re always walking about instead of training our troops?” She still didn’t look up.

“It’s my free time, I finished training one standard hour ago,” Niva says as she walks up to the kaminioan. “What’re you doing?”

“My job.”

“May I ask what your job is, then?”

“I am Chief Scientist Ko Sai’s assistant. I’m here to study the Generation Ones, seeing what should be improved and changed in later Generations,” the kaminoan answers in the same monotone Orun Wa used several days prior.

“What’s your name?”

“Nala Se.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Why do you always come here?” Nala Se asks with a sigh, seeming to be done with Niva.

“I’m-” Niva couldn’t think of the correct word. “You’re just always out here. You look sad sometimes.”

“I am allowed to feel emotions sometimes, Niva Veen.”

Niva cocks her head. “I’m good at reading people. You seem more than sad, like you’re focused on something important to you, something to prove to someone.”

Nala Se finally looks away from the cadets, her massive eyes meeting Niva’s. “You’re correct, actually.” She leans back slightly and pauses, her eyes widening as she realizes something. “I need a trainer. Not for myself, but for… special ops troopers. You seem qualified, for a sixteen year old.”

“I can train troops. I know what I’m doing,” Niva replies, narrowing her eyes slightly. Nala Se hums an acknowledgement, standing and turning her back to the girl.

“Follow me, then,” she says.

The private tubing system fascinated Niva, her face nearly pressed to the glass as she zoomed past the water and its inhabitants.

“Have you never seen an ocean before? It really isn’t that intriguing,” Nala Se says.

“Not this close…” Niva replies as she unfocuses her eyes to see the water streaming past her.

The lab was just as sterile as the rest of Kamino, but the dimness was a mixture of soothing and eerie. They entered through the floor, directly in the center of the lab.

“You remember how the six other Null ARCs were disposed of?” Nala Se asks Niva.

“Yes…” Where is this going?

“I saved them. Orun Wa and Ko Sai didn’t think they’d last in combat, you see. One was smaller than the rest, one stockier, two very thin, one a female. The female and one of the lankier cadets had poor eyesight compared to the average clone,” Nala Se explains.

She walks to a panel on the wall, opening a hidden door. A hidden door in a hidden lab. What else lies in these walls? She continues, “I was tasked with the extermination of those six. Yes, I directly disobeyed orders, but once I show the higher ups, I’ll be rewarded. I will surpass Ko Sai to become the next Chief Scientist.”

Niva watches as the hidden door leads to a brighter corridor. The hallway leads to another door, small noises can be heard from behind the transparisteel.

“CT-9903 and the female would’ve never lasted. I’ve done all I could to preserve their eyesight but not much can be done. Both require glasses. In addition, I modified the entirety of the batch so they can’t be traced back to the Nulls.”

“Wait,” Niva says, “CT? Not ARC?”

The door at the end of the hidden hallway behind the hidden door in the hidden lab opens to reveal six clones, the same age as the Nulls, sitting on their respective six bunks, dwarfing them.

“Clone Force 99, this is Niva Veen. She will be continuing your training from now on.”

Mando’a used:

Kaminii means kaminoan (the se at the end of certain scenes is just plural as in kaminoans)

Fierfek is just some random curse I think

Aruetiise means traitor

Shebs means your rear

Ad’ika is a term of affection for a kid (ad means the same)

Buir is father/mother (no gender in Mando’a)

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @dangraccoon @hellhound5925 @skellymom @angie-is-silly (why did you change your fucking name dude 😭 you gave me a stroke trying to find you)

LMK IF YOU WANNA HOP ON OR OFF THE TAGLIST

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jedi-hawkins · 11 months

Text

Bad Batch ~ Bryn-ayla Del Caro

A/N: Welcome all! Here's an introductory chapter to my Jedi OC, Bryn. I've been weaving her into the Star Wars Saga over the last year, Please give her some love! If anyone has ideas or constructive criticism, all is welcome. May the Force be with you!

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: canon descriptions of violence. Mentions of death, injuries and brief mention of suicide.

Next Chapter

The year is 21BBY, and the Clone War has been raging for just over a year. Jedi Master Bryn-Ayla Del Caro has come to Kamino to meet her new trooper squad, Clone Force 99. How will she mesh with this new batch of soldiers?

Footsteps softly echo off the pristine white floors of the Tipoca City Cloning Facility as two Jedi and a Kaminoan calmly walk through the hallways.

"The clone production is getting more and more efficient with each batch." The Kaminoan, Nala Se, says, gently waving her hand at a window that overlooks towers of embryos floating peacefully in bacta tanks.

Master Bryn-ayla Del Caro simply nods. "It is clear that your cloning facilities are impressive, and the soldiers you train are outstanding fighters. But with all due respect, I came all this way to meet my new squad, not for a tour."

"Yes, Clone Force 99." The other Jedi, Master Shakk Ti adds. "Our experimental batch. They are just getting ready to run the Citadel simulation for your assessment. Right this way."

She gestures to a nearby door and leads the way through a few more turning hallways until Bryn finds herself on a balcony overlooking the impressive Kaminoan training facility.

Nala Se takes her place at the direction console for the facility. "It will be just a moment."

Bryn turns to her comrade. "So, what more can you tell me about Squad 99?"

The togruta smiles. "As I said when we first talked, they're an interesting bunch. Each had their DNA modified to emphasize traits that may be desired in soldiers. Enhanced intelligence, superior eyesight and reflexes-"

"Amplified strength?" Bryn adds as the platform rises into the arena with four clones on it, one significantly bigger than his brothers.

"Now you're getting the idea." Shaak Ti responds. She looks over to Nala Se, "Are we ready to begin?"

The Kaminoan nods, turning to one of her assistants "Lets go with variation 473, and tap into their comms channel." she says.

The assistant nods, tapping a few buttons on the control console. The droids in the arena below come to life, raising their weapons as an automated voice begins a countdown.

On the platform below, the four clones are talking to each other.

"We've done hundreds of these, boys. We've got this in the bag." Their Sergeant says absentmindedly, his eyes trained on the new face on the viewing platform above.

The large one smirks under his helmet. "A simulation? Why don't they give us a real challenge?"

The group fans out, immediately settling into their places behind the crates set throughout the arena.

'Three... Two... One...'

The droids begin their assault. After assessing the situation, the sergeant turns to the man beside him. "Crosshair, towers."

The clone carrying a firepuncher rifle, Crosshair, gives a curt nod and creeps around the perimeter to begin scaling one of the towers firing down upon the squad. He makes quick work of them and begins picking off droids down below as his brothers begin their advance.

After a couple more moments, Bryn can hear who she assumes is the big one grumble to his comrade with a helmet modified to fit a pair of goggles. "Augh, this is boring."

Sensing what he's about to do, his brother shouts, "Wrecker, no!"

Completely ignoring him, Wrecker launches himself over the barrier they were sheltering behind, kicking a droid out of his way and immediately bringing his hands down on another. Shaking his head, the brother follows Wrecker's path while the sergeant pulls up the rear.

Mad laughter can be heard through the comms channel and Bryn smiles. "He seems to enjoy this. They have interesting tactics, Master Ti."

She nods and turns to the Kaminoan assistant. "Switch to variation 291." They turn their attention back to the arena as the assistant changes the simulation.

New armored battle droids rise from the floor, eliciting another laugh from Wrecker. The armored droids begin firing as more waves of battle droids close in, causing the three clones on the ground to retreat behind barriers.

Crosshair fires a couple shots onto the armored droids, but it simply calls their attention to him. They fire up to the tower where he's perched, causing him to retreat down to the ground where the sergeant is. His cool voice finally comes over the comms. "This is going well."

The clone with goggles looks over at Wrecker and remarks. "They must have changed the simulation parameters. It seems our original assault may not be sufficient."

"You think?" Wrecker grumbles back.

"Might I suggest Plan 23, Hunter?" Goggles says, looking at his Sergeant.

"Good thinking, Tech. That sound alright boys?" Hunter replies

They all give a nod and move to new positions, restarting their fire on the droids. One of the droids manages to hit Hunter's blaster, knocking it out of his hand. To Bryn's interest, he simply pulls a pair of vibro-knifes from his armor and continues with hand-to-hand attacks on the droids. "You let us know when you're ready, Crosshair." He says.

A couple more movements of fire between the clones and the droids pass and suddenly Crosshair calls over the comms, "Now!"

He and his three brothers each toss a small shiny disc in the air, and Crosshair fires a single shot, it ricochets off droid heads and the discs taking out every last droid in the arena.

The clones all emerge from cover and look up to the balcony where their spectators stand. "Nice job, boys." Hunter remarks.

Shaak Ti simply gives a nod to the clones below. "Come, Master Caro. Time to meet them in person." She says, beckoning the other master to follow her.

Back on the training floor, Wrecker turns to his brothers. "Who d'you suppose was up there with Shaak Ti?"

"Probably our new General." Tech replies, pulling a data pad from his belt.

"Tch." A single noise, dripping in distain from Crosshair.

Before the squad can say anything else, the door to the arena opens and Shaak Ti enters, leading what is definitely another Jedi behind her.

"Clone Force 99, may I introduce you to your new General, Jedi Master Bryn-ayla Del Caro." Shaak Ti says, waving a hand to the Jedi beside her.

The squad takes their helmets off, and a clone with a mess of long dark hair tied back by a red bandana steps forward. "General, I'm Sergeant Hunter, and these are my men." He points to the clone with goggles that's holding the data pad. "This is Tech, he's our smart one."

Then he points to the clone that towers over his brothers. His left eyes is clouded over and it's clear he's taken an explosion to that side of his head. "This is Wrecker. And finally-"

"Crosshair." Bryn finishes, looking at the tall and lithe clone with the rifle.

The squad looks at her in surprise.

"Woah, was that some kind of Jedi trick?" Wrecker asks with a grin on his face.

Bryn laughs, "Far from it. We were tapped into your comms. Your tactics are quite impressive. I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work."

Hunter glances to his squad. "With all due respect, we are a little confused as to why we are being assigned to you, sir. Don't Jedi normally command entire legions, or armies even?"

Bryn gives the remark some thought before replying. "Come, let's get something to eat and I'll answer all your questions."

"Please allow me to escort you." Shaak Ti says, but Bryn holds up a hand in protest.

"Thank you, Master Ti," she says "but I believe my squad can show me the way. We'll be fine"

The togruta considers the suggestion, eventually nodding. "Alright, please come see me in my office before you depart."

Bryn nods and Shaak Ti exits the arena. She then turns to the clone squad, "You are hungry, right?"

Hunter clears his throat. "Ah, yeah, yes sir. Come on boys, let's show the General to the mess."

Hunter falls into stride with Bryn, as his three brothers follow behind.

"So, who exactly are you?" Crosshair croons.

"Crosshair-" Hunter warns.

"No, it's okay." Bryn says. "I am Jedi Master Bryn-ayla Del Caro. I was born on Takodanna in the western mid-rim, brought to Coruscant when I was four to begin my Jedi training. I was padawan to Jedi Master Plo Kloon. I work closely with Master Obi-wan Kenobi and the 212th Legion as well as Knight Anakin Skywalker and the 501st. I'm sure they don't need introductions."

Bryn pauses, but the brothers are hanging on to her every word. "Depending on what files you have pulled up on that data pad there, Tech, you may see that yes, I did command a Legion for the Republic." Again, she pauses. The name of her fallen men catches in her throat. "The 43rd."

Tech adjust his goggles, quickly typing in a few things on his data pad. "Everything I have here confirms what you said, though there is one discrepancy. It says here that the 43rd Legion was wiped out entirely during the Battle on Jabiim early in the War."

Bryn's face falls. "There were two survivors from the 43rd."

"So you just left your men behind to be slaughtered?" Crosshair sneers.

Bryn's face hardens and she stops to look him dead on. "Why don't you hear me out before throwing accusations around? The front on Jabiim hadn't changed in nearly six weeks. The Republic decided to switch tactics. They divided the 43rd into its battalions and sent them to simultaneously attack Separatist strongholds to retake the planet. I was forced to stay with my point battalion at Shelter Base to coordinate our efforts and hold our only point of occupation."

Her words seem strong, angry maybe, but Hunter can sense she's terrified. He can hear her heart pounding in her chest as she continues. "Separatist Commander Alto Stratus had all our intel. He was able to maneuver through our defenses and launch a frontal assault on Shelter Base. I was at point, trying to buy enough time for everyone to get inside. I lost one hundred and twenty-seven of my men in that first attack. Good men. We had just enough time to triage the wounded before the second wave hit. I couldn't tell you how many assaults there were after that. The Seppies were armed far beyond what we expected. It was almost like they were toying with us as they divided that battalion and picked us off."

Bryn pauses, some screams of falling troopers echo through her skull. "It was all a blur. There must have been a break because the last I remember was my Commander dragging me out into the woods. Apparently it was four days before a rescue ship made it out to our location, I don't know how Steeler kept us alive. The next I knew I was waking up on Coruscant after spending a week in a Bacta Tank."

She takes a moment to steady her breathing and Tech's data pad let's out a couple beeps.

"Ah, yes." He says. "Here's the treatment report. Concussion, facial fractures, four cracked ribs, multiple lacerations and blaster wounds that needed surgical repair, shattered kneecap, bruising to the kidney, liver and spleen from blunt force trauma, and post-surgical intracranial bleeding." Tech lists off.

Bryn swallows. "I should have died. It took me three days to wake up after they fished me out of the bacta. Medics were unsure whether I was going to wake up at all. That's when I learned the fate of my Legion. The battalion at Shelter Base wasn't the only one that was compromised, all of them were. The other Jedi commanders and my three younger brothers were among the those killed in battle. The loss of Jabiim was a grave Republic defeat. Some men were lucky enough to survive the blood bath and made it to the med stations, but most soon died to their injuries. For the ones who left the medbays, it was only a couple of weeks before they chose to join their brothers. Commander Steeler and I are the only survivors."

The squad is silent for a moment as they soak in her story.

"Kriff." Hunter mutters. "I knew Jabiim was bad, but I didn't know how bad."

Wrecker's jaw is hanging open. "Well, what happened to you then?" He prods.

Bryn sighs, "Commander Steeler was absorbed into the 212th under General Kenobi. I've been helping both the 212th and 501st as well as doing some Ambassador work, but the Council and the Chancellor think it's time for a change. They wanted to move me to command the fourteenth sector army, but I refused the position." She trails off.

"You turned down the command of an entire army. How noble. Or was it fear?" Crosshair jeers again.

Bryn's face darkens. "No. I didn't agree with the Republic's decision to split my legion. It was early in the war and a lot of our troopers were still shiny, the command included. I wanted to take my lead squad to see what we were dealing with before attacking, but I was overruled. The Republic felt our numbers were strong enough for the siege to succeed with full frontal attacks. I should have gone against orders and taken the squad anyway. I knew it was the right choice even though the Republic thought otherwise. It's not the first time I've disagreed with Command, it probably won't be the last."

Hunter waves a hand down the hallway, beginning to lead the group again. "Then you may understand our-" He chooses his next words wisely. "-reservations about the Republic's decision to send you to supervise us."

Bryn stops and places a hand on the Sergeant's shoulder plate, "I'm not here to supervise you. I requested this squad. I see a chance for us to do for others what I couldn't do for the 43rd."

Wrecker cocks his head to one side. "You want to be here with us?"

"Your files were very promising. This elite clone force will be able to tackle the missions entire Legions can't figure out. We can save lives and hopefully bring this war to a swifter end." Bryn responds.

Crosshair rolls his eyes. "A Jedi wanting to save innocent civilians, how novel." He mutters under his breath.

"Not just civvies. Clones." Bryn says sternly. "The majority of the Republic leaders have yet to realize that throwing bodies at a problem rarely ever works. I'm looking to change that."

She turns and continues walking. "So, Sergeant, I know the skills of your brothers. What about you? With a name like Hunter, I might guess extreme patience. While that may be true, I sense there's more to you than that."

She chuckles at her own joke, which actually brings a smile to the squad's faces, save Crosshair. Though, Bryn is fairly sure she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

Hunter rubs the back of his neck, smiling. "You would be correct, General. Heightened senses is the gift I got, but you're not wrong about the patience either."

Hunter paused at the doors the mess and they slide open to reveal a huge hall filled with the same face a few dozen times over. Hunter leads the way to the mess line, but a blanket of hushed whispers falls over the room as the squad walks through it.

"A Jedi?"

"That's General Caro."

"What's she doing here?"

A wash of relief falls over Squad 99, for once the whispers aren't about them. As they find a table to sit down with their trays, a shiny saunters up to Bryn with a smirk plastered across his face and two other shinies at his side.

"You know, General, why don't you come over with me and I'll show you how a real clone troops." He leers at Bryn. Many nearby clones turn to watch the scene unfold.

Squad 99 watches her, intrigued at how she'll respond. She simply keeps her eyes on her tray, spooning some stew towards her mouth. The shiny gets bolder and places a hand on her shoulder.

"What, you shy, loth-kitten?" He taunts.

The squad's eyes widen at his comment. Now the whole mess hall is watching. Hunter even clenches a fist, ready to stand to Bryn's defense. Bryn calmly takes a sip from her glass, and sets it down on the table, ignoring the hand on her. The shiny tightens his grip on her shoulder, opening his mouth for another comment. Suddenly a bowl goes flying off one of his mate's trays, landing on his head and splattering its contents everywhere. Hunter could swear he saw the General's hand twitch. Snarling, the shiny reels back and wipes the stew from his eyes only to see the general standing tall in front of him.

"Are you alright, Trooper?" She says, her voice smooth and calm. "You should be more careful, you might end up with your foot in your mouth instead of your lunch. What are you called?"

The shiny's face reddens, he answers with a growl. "CT-13-"

Bryn raises a hand, interrupting him. "No, what is your name, soldier?"

He blinks at her. "I- I don't have one."

She smiles. "Well, looks like you just earned one, Stew. I think it would be best if you finished your meal somewhere else." She turns and sits back down without waiting for a reply. The shiny and his mates slink back to a far corner of the mess hall and the general bustle returns to the room.

Bryn turns back to her meal but pauses when she notices the Squad is staring at her, mouths open. "What?" She asks plainly, a spoonful halfway to her mouth.

Hunter shakes his head. "I didn't know how you were going to react, but I certainly didn't expect that."

"That was awesome!" Wrecker exclaims

Bryn smiles. "That was a Jedi trick, Wrecker."

"Are they always that entertaining?" Tech asks, wiping a few drops of stew off his data pad.

"Definitely not." Bryn replies. "But I do seem to specialize in tricks of the edible variety. I threw a pastry at a fellow Jedi when we were in the Academy together, a besalisk with a bad attitude. Though, I just threw with my arm that time."

Again, the corner of Crosshair's mouth threatens to turn upwards, but a question from Tech draws Bryn's attention.

"So, Bryn. I'm curious, you said you're from Takodana, but you mentioned your brothers perished in the Battle of Jabiim. Did your family relocate and live in a village that was destroyed?"

Hunter can hear her heart skip a beat. "No. My brothers enlisted in the GAR at the start of the war. The 43rd legion was home to a battalion of nat-born soldiers. Sembren, the youngest, was only 24."

Tech rubs his chin. "Ah, so they chose to fight. I wonder why."

Bryn shrugs her shoulders. "I guess with a Jedi as an older sibling, they felt like they also had to answer to a greater purpose. I wasn't there to see them grow up so I wouldn't know. I never thought to ask when I did meet them. Sometimes I wonder what their lives would look like if they hadn't decided to serve the Republic."

"So you're the oldest of your family I take it?" Tech continues.

A shadow of something flits across Bryn's face, but she quickly replaces it with a smile. "The Jedi have long since been my family."

"What other Jedi tricks do you know, General?" Wrecker enthusiastically asks.

Bryn laughs. "Well, force-kinesis is definitely a party trick, but it can be a useful skill. With concentration, a Jedi can influence an individual's thoughts, though the success rate can depend on the subject's willpower or species. With study and practice, some Jedi can accelerate their healing. Many get visions in their dreams when the mind is more vulnerable. And of course, Jedi tend to have quick reflexes-" Her hand flies up and catches something- a spoon.

Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter turn in surprise to see Crosshair's outstretched hand.

"-which can be a huge advantage in battle." Bryn finishes calmly, setting the utensil down. "Though, the most helpful skill, in my opinion, is the ability to sense an individual's thoughts and emotions." She raises her eyes to Crosshair, who gets an uneasy feeling that she's actually looking through him.

"So," she continues. "If you all are done eating, then we can get going."

Hunter's brow furrows. "To where?"

"Oh I thought they would have told you." Bryn says apologetically. "I'm not just here to meet you, I'm here for our first mission. You're shipping out with me, tonight."

The squad's eyes widen as they look to each other. They're actually leaving Kamino.

Wrecker suddenly stands up, nearly knocking over the table. "Well what are we waiting for?"

Bryn and the rest of the squad stand up and clear their trays before walking out of the mess hall. The Jedi glances around her at the white Kaminoan hallways that all look the same.

Hunter appears at her right side. "You needed to go see Shaak Ti, right? Do you know the way to her office?"

Bryn shakes her head. "Admittedly no."

The sergeant smiles and jerks his head toward where his brothers are standing. "Come on, our barracks are on the way."

Once again Bryn finds herself winding through identical hallways until Crosshair, who's leading the group stops at a door. It slides open for them and the squad files in, Bryn last. She glances around and can quickly decipher whose bunk is whose.

Wrecker's is an absolute mess, blankets tossed everywhere, littered with ration bar wrappers. Bryn does notice there's a tooka doll tucked into the corner by Wrecker's pillow. Crosshair's is pristine. Three practice targets are hung on the wall, three sets of blacks are neatly folded on top of his crisply made bunk. He's managed to arrange some spare crates around his bed into a barrier between him and the rest of the barrack.

Much like Wrecker's, Tech's blankets are haphazardly thrown on the bed, but instead of ration wrappers, pieces of spare wire and mechanical components are strewn about. The majority of his bunk is occupied by what looks like a long-range transmitter, and the walls of his bunk are decorated with various scribbles of equations or gadget designs. Hunter's bunk is neatly made, not to Crosshair's caliber, but neat nonetheless. A spare pair of boots sits at the foot of his bed, a storage trunk beside them. He's decorated his wall will the same skull emblem as the one on his red bandana and '99' in Aubresh. He has his Sergeant accolades pinned above his pillow.

There are two spare bunks in a corner of the room. Neither have blankets on them, both are taken by storage crates holding a slew of random items. Hunter sniffs a couple times. "Ah, sorry about the smell, General." he says, setting his helmet down on a crate by his bunk.

Bryn chuckles. "Don't be, this is nothing. The 501st? Some of them are fresh enough to peel paint."

Again, Hunter smiles at her and turns to his brothers. "Start packing, boys. I'll be right back."

He steps back out into the hallway, pausing to make sure Bryn follows him. It only takes a couple minutes for him to escort her to master Shaak Ti's office.

He turns to make his way back to the barracks, but Bryn calls out to him. "I won't be long. When you all are done packing, meet me in Hangar 99. Expect to be gone for about ten days."

The doors to hangar 99 slide open as Hunter steps through with his brothers. His eyes fall on General Caro who's leaning up against an Omicron-class attack shuttle. She's added some armor pieces over her Jedi robes, something many generals choose to do. Hunter comes to attention in front of her, giving a salute. "Reporting, General." He says curtly, his brothers following suit.

Bryn chuckles and casually waves her hand. "No need for that boys, I hated it when an entire legion did it, still hate it now." The squad returns to their normal postures as she pushes herself away from the starship. "I trust you had no trouble finding your way here?"

Tech adjusts his goggles. "Hangar bay 99, very fitting."

Bryn smiles. "I thought so too."

Hunter scans over the ship behind the general in awe. "What is this" He asks plainly.

Bryn gestures wide to the ship. "Welcome to your new home away from home. The Havoc Marauder." She presses her hand to a button on the landing gear and the gangplank slides open. "Come on in."

The batch walk up the gangplank in turn and begin investigating the interior. After only a few minutes inside, it's clear the starship has been modified with a few more creature comforts than a regulation Omicron-class. Half the jump seats on the wall opposite the entryway have been replaced with a massive databank and multiple displays. The cockpit houses four chairs that look much more comfortable than regulation. Through the entry galley there's a hallway with two doors on one side and a single door on the other.

The first of the two doors reveals a mess storage with a ration warmer and even a small kaf press. Next door is the refresher, complete with a shower stall, albeit a cramped one. Across the hall is the med bay with a permanent bunk in the corner and some basic exam and trauma instruments. At the end of the hallway is another door that leads to a large space at the rear of the ship. On one wall there's three fold-down bunks and on the other side of the space are weapons racks and storage crates. The entrance to the rear gun is here and in the center of the space is a ladder leading to both the upper and lower cargo holds.

When the boys are done exploring, they come back to the entry galley to find Bryn leaning against the bulkhead to the cockpit.

"So?" She asks with a smile on her face. "Will this suffice?"

Hunter glances around him. "This can't be regulation."

Before Bryn can reply, Tech chimes in. "It is not. Clearly this ship has been heavily modified. Though, I may need to make a few more."

"How did you get this?" Wrecker asks, still looking around him with child-like glee.

Bryn shrugs. "Well... You nearly get yourself killed a couple times and people will give you something nice every once in a while. Crosshair, what do you think?"

The sniper's eyes had barely glanced around the ship before training on the general. As Crosshair's eyes narrow, Bryn braces for another snide comment that doesn't come. "Your armor."

His brothers focus on the general and they finally notice the armor plates she added to her Jedi robes are gleaming maroon-striped metal with the Republic insignia on her left shoulder, the crest of the Jedi order on her right. A striking set of jiag eyes adorns her chestplate.

"Beskar." Crosshair breathes, his unspoken question hanging in the air.

Bryn crosses her arms. "House Vizsla." She responds plainly.

"Woah." Wrecker exclaims. "Wait- what's that?"

Tech adjust his goggles. "House Vizsla." He repeats. "One of the oldest lineages of Mandalore, and the first Mandalorian bloodline to produce a Jedi."

Wrecker blinks. "But I thought you were from Takodana?"

"I am." Bryn replies. "My family descended from a branch of House Vizsla, but my ancestors left Mandalore not long after the start of the Mandalorian Civil Wars. This armor is one of the last pieces of that history."

"Would you ever go back?" Hunter asks.

"Although I have blood of the Creed, I would never be considered one of their own, I honestly have no desire to be. My people are elsewhere. 'Aliit ori'shya tal'din'."

The squad's eyes widen when Bryn speaks in their native Mando'a.

"Family is more than blood." Hunter repeats.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future works!

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #bad batch #star wars oc #star wars tbb #star wars tcw #Bryn-Ayla Del Caro

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antianakin · 1 year

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"The Jedi repress their emotions!"

Actually, that's Anakin!

"The Jedi have unhealthy relationships with people!"

Actually, that's Anakin!

"The Jedi are too embroiled in politics to truly be able to help people!"

Anakin is literally in the pocket of the Chancellor and continuously insists that they have to abide by the law while multiple other Jedi, particularly Council members, generally try to avoid that whenever possible in order to better help people on the mission.

"The Jedi aren't involved in politics enough to truly be able to help people!"

Despite living in the Chancellor's pocket, Anakin literally has no idea how the political system works as evidenced by his criticism of it in AOTC and TCW "Heroes on Both Sides." By contrast, we see that Ahsoka has clearly gotten an education in politics and has been taught that it's important to be involved in politics in order to try to keep corruption from happening, an education good enough that she's literally capable of teaching other kids her own age about it. It's also the Jedi who we see actively recognizing that Palpatine is corrupt and choosing the do something about it, unlike Anakin who just keeps making excuses for Palpatine.

"The Jedi didn't fight enough for the clones!"

The Jedi are the ONLY ones we EVER see fighting for the clones in ANY WAY. We see Jedi criticize EACH OTHER for negative treatment of the clones, we see Jedi fight back against the Kaminoans to save the clones, and we see Jedi literally dying to protect the clones. Yoda himself makes the argument to trust the clones after they discover that the clones are probably a Sith trap for the Jedi. There is NO ONE ELSE who ever fights for the clones at all, but the Jedi are seen to do so MULTIPLE TIMES. And I will note that aside from fighting on the battlefield with them, none of these examples include Anakin, who is frequently seen to EXPLOIT his own men, particularly Rex, for his own selfish agendas.

"The Jedi steal babies!"

This has been debunked over and over again by people with more resources than me, but guess who actually DOES steal children? If you guessed Anakin, YOU'D BE RIGHT! And according to the multiple people who gave me examples last time I asked (thank you to all of you who did so), he specifically steals a baby FROM A FORMER JEDI. He also literally helps torture captured Jedi children into becoming Jedi hunters and keeps the body of a Jedi child as a trophy.

#star wars #pro jedi #pro jedi culture #jedi culture respected #jedi appreciation #jedi culture appreciated #jedi respected #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #stop projecting anakin's specific flaws onto the jedi #that's not how media literacy works

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arctrooperechy · 7 months

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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

#the bad batch #tbb #hunter x female oc #bad batch #sw fanfic #kindred fic #tbb fanfiction #OC Merritt

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cienie-isengardu · 1 year

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Jango Fett' childhood on Concord Dawn

One of the things that I think bothers me the most about Jango Fett: Open Seasons comics series is how a 8 (or 10) years old Jango was told by his dad to repair a harvester

and then… left alone for who knows how long in the middle of a crop field?

I was born in the city so obviously I don’t know how life on a farm goes and all so forgive me my ignorance but:

A) Jango was introduced with a weapon in his hand, while he walked through his own family’s property

and was taught by father how to use a blaster at the age of 8 - 10.

At this point in the story, I think it is safe to assume Jango’s dad knew Mandalorians were in his field, as he brought food to Jaster and his men. So I assume he was contacted by comlink or he already talked in person with Jaster and he probably had some idea of what was going on - unless Jaster didn’t warn him about Death Watch on his trail, but I think this is pretty unlikely, as the Mandalorians stayed hidden in the field, instead of coming to Fett’s house.

So there is a reason to think that leaving a kid alone in the middle of the field was not the smartest idea.

B) Jango has never been any technology genius or even that good with it in sources? His jetpack was repaired by a droid whose main job was to take care of little Boba on Kamino. I’m pretty sure Jango as a Mandalorian Merc was capable of maintaining his armor, weapons and ship but if the harvester was so important to put back into use - and I assume this is the case, as Fett’s parents were usually described as simple farmers and the first part of comics clearly represents the season of summer (childhood) and this was very likely grain harvest time - then I would not pick a kid to do the job, unless the kid was Anakin Skywalker who could fix all kind of machinery, as it was his specific gift. Jango though? I’m not so sure about his 8-10 year old self’ skills.

Of course, the harvester’s problem could be a simple matter but then why not send Arla, Jango’s older sister (14 years old) to either do the job, or help Jango to speed up the repairs? Not saying Arla did not have her own share of duties and all (unless the kids were treated unfair, as Arla did not hold/use a gun against the invaders

but that could be just matter of her being too terrified or there could be not enough guns which is why only the mother was armed), but considering how the comics implies that Jango’s dad, mother and Arla were at home when he was working during sunny (if not hot) day, in the middle of a field, no shadow, repairing a vehicle bothers me a lot.

And sure, on Concord Dawn living on farm could be just that tough even for kids, but looking at AotC novel (that admittedly does not mention Jango’s time with Mandalorians at all)

Other than that, though, this was just a job, well paying and easy enough. Financially, he couldn't have asked for more, but more important, only the Kaminoans could have given him Boba - not just a son, but an exact replica. Boba would give Jango the pleasure of seeing all that he might have become had he grown up with a loving and caring father, a mentor who cared enough to criticize, to force him to perfection.

This, then, was Jango Fett's greatest reward, right here, sitting with his son, his young replica, sharing quiet moments. Quiet moments within the tumult that had been Jango Fett's entire life, surviving the trials of the Outer Rim alone practically from the day he learned to walk. Each trial had made him stronger, had made him more perfect, had honed the skills that he would now pass along to Boba.

and old source material like outdated starwars.com’s databank entry:

Fett all but disappeared from bounty hunting circles as he took time to raise his son. He sought to experience what his life might have been like had he been raised by a caring guardian.

I can’t help but wonder about Jango’s childhood before the Mandalorians showed up.

So far my research showed, only Fact Files v.3 #14 mentioned he had "as idyllic a life as could be while making a living off the land, in close family unit with his mother, father and sister, Arla"

which gives some hope Jango's childhood although tough, was a relative happy one.

[Just to be clear here: I don’t think Jango’s biological family was by any means pathological, I just think Concord Dawn is a pathological place as this planet's record is not the best when it comes to people's backstories.]

#star wars #cienie's research #jango fett #jango fett's family #concord dawn #this is seriously one of the most bothering things from JF:OS #mandalorian brutality? got it #but leaving a kid in the middle of field alone?#i can't help but think about slavic folklore and Południce #the demons huntingthose who were in the field at noon during summer #i started collecting data for jango & walon meta #so of course i sidetracked XDDD #also the early sources for jango puts jaster & mandalorians too in bad light once collected together #though aotc novel seems to have its own version of jango's backstory with no mention of mandalorians or detailed events from jf:os

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missfrieden · 3 days

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Tech as a father Chapter 67

Laptop works now better, the touchscreen is disabled, so yeh. Now I will see how much longer I can push it.

I also realised there are movies about something similiar I think. Saw them on Disney+ once, three men and a baby I think? Maybe I should give it a watch.

Masterlist | AO3

Chapter 67: Deep clean

The next day should have been one of relaxation, but of course a few Kaminoans show up with Gala Ta. Upon hearing Gala Ta's announcement about the deep cleaning of the barracks, Crosshair and Echo exchange knowing glances. The promise of a spotless living space is enticing, but the ulterior motives behind the Kaminoans' actions are all too apparent.

Tech, with his keen intellect, immediately recognizes the potential threat. Aware of the Kaminoans' relentless pursuit of Orion's genetic material, he discreetly glances at the items that hold traces of his son's DNA, the muslin cloth, the baby bottles, and other everyday articles that have become precious objects in their clandestine life. As the Kaminoans begin their meticulous cleaning process, the squad observes with a mixture of scepticism and vigilance. Echo discreetly positions himself to keep a watchful eye on the proceedings, ready to intervene if any attempt is made to seize items that could compromise Orion's genetic privacy.

Crosshair, normally not so happy to the state of the barracks, now pays close attention to the cleaning, his sharp eyes assessing the situation. The tension in the air is palpable as the Kaminoans move about, their actions scrutinized by the wary members of Clone Force 99. Tech, ever strategic, silently contemplates how to safeguard Orion's genetic identity. His mind races with contingency plans, ensuring that even in the face of a deep clean, and the critical items remain beyond the Kaminoans' reach.

As the Kaminoans meticulously scrub the living quarters, the squad remains on high alert. The dance between secrecy and surveillance continues, each member acutely aware of the delicate balance that shields Orion from the probing eyes of those who seek to unravel the mysteries of his origin. Tech and Echo, recognizing the risk posed by the Kaminoan deep clean, exchange subtle nods of understanding. With practiced coordination, they discreetly relocate Orion's belongings to the seemingly unassuming space of Echo's hammock.

Echo, though initially uneasy about sharing his personal space, understands the gravity of the situation. Suppressing any discomfort, he settles into the hammock, providing a concealed sanctuary for the items that hold traces of Orion's DNA. The muslin cloths, baby bottles, and other things are carefully arranged, hidden from the prying eyes of the Kaminoans.

Orion, nestled in his father's bunk, oblivious to the covert manoeuvres, continues to happily chew on his muslin cloth. His innocent fascination with the proceedings adds a touch of levity to the otherwise tense atmosphere. As the Kaminoans diligently scrub and sanitize the surroundings, Tech and Echo maintain a vigilant watch. The hammock serves as an inconspicuous repository, shielding Orion's genetic identity from the meticulous cleaning efforts.

The dance of secrecy unfolds, with Echo subtly adjusting his posture in the hammock to ensure that the concealed items remain undetected. Meanwhile, Tech employs his strategic mind to anticipate any unexpected turns in the Kaminoans' actions.

Orion, the unwitting centre of this clandestine operation, giggles and coos, blissfully unaware of the intricate web woven around him for the sake of safeguarding his genetic privacy. The squad, with unwavering commitment, remains resolute in their efforts to shield Orion from the ever watchful eyes of Kamino. Hunter, observing the Kaminoans' meticulous cleaning, finally decides that it's time to address the elephant in the room. Stepping forward with a stern expression, he asserts, "That's enough. We know exactly what you're after."

Crosshair, standing beside Hunter, adds his own assertive remark, "Clean all you want. It won't change anything." The Kaminoans, momentarily taken aback by the squad's direct confrontation, exchange glances but continue their cleaning procedures. Hunter, however, stands firm, a clear signal that their attempts to manipulate the situation won't be tolerated. “This is merely to make sure this room is u to standard” Gala Ta states while motioning in a fluid movement his arm.

Tech, maintaining a watchful eye on Orion, discreetly communicates with Echo, ensuring that the concealed items remain secure. The tension in the room escalates as the Kaminoans persist in their efforts, seemingly unfazed by the squad's resistance. Orion, in the midst of the commotion, continues to amuse himself with his muslin cloth, oblivious to the underlying tension. The Kaminoans, determined to complete their task, proceed with the cleaning, but the squad's unwavering unity hints at a deeper resolve to protect Orion's genetic identity.

As the stand-off ensues, the barracks become a battleground of silent resistance, with the squad silently conveying that their loyalty lies with each other and, most importantly, with safeguarding Orion from the relentless pursuits of the Kaminoan agenda.

Tech, ever attentive to Orion's wellbeing, reacts swiftly as he hears the coughs escalate. Moving with practiced efficiency, he retrieves the muslin cloth from Orion's grasp and secures it in his pocket. With a worried expression, he scoops up Orion just in time to witness a gag reflex. The Kaminoans, seizing the opportunity, exchange glances that betray their hidden motives. It becomes evident that they hope Orion's discomfort might lead to an unexpected sample for their genetic analyses.

Tech, however, is undeterred by their speculative looks. Holding Orion protectively in his arms, he shoots a pointed gaze at the Kaminoans, silently warning them against any interference with his son's wellbeing. Orion, though momentarily distressed, finds comfort in Tech's soothing presence. The barracks, caught in a tense atmosphere, becomes a stage for a silent struggle between the squad's determination to shield Orion and the Kaminoans' relentless pursuit of genetic information.

In this pivotal moment, as Orion's coughs subside and he snuggles against Tech, the unspoken defiance of Clone Force 99 remains unwavering. The Kaminoans, despite their attempts, are met with a resilient wall of loyalty that shields Orion from their invasive intentions. Tech letting his son pull on his hair and goggles, is standing by his bunk, not wanting his creators come to close to it.

Later, after what felt like a whole rotation, Tech, feeling the weight of tension slowly lift with the departure of the Kaminoans, releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He removes the safety railing, reclaiming a semblance of normalcy in the barracks. Sinking down onto his bunk, Tech wearily sits, cradling Orion in his arms. The little one, seemingly attuned to the change in atmosphere, responds with a delighted series of smacks and grabs at Tech's face. A tired but genuine smile forms on Tech's lips as he allows Orion's small hands to explore, finding solace in the innocent joy of his son.

The squad, though fatigued by the constant scrutiny, shares a collective glance that conveys their solidarity. Echo, Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker subtly acknowledge the unspoken bond that binds them together against external threats, especially those posed by the insistent Kaminoans. In this moment of relative calm, Tech relishes the simplicity of connecting with Orion, the laughter of a child serving as a powerful antidote to the complexities of their circumstances. As they navigate the challenges thrown at them, Clone Force 99 remains a steadfast shield around Orion, determined to safeguard him from the invasive reach of Kaminoan interests.

Echo, meticulous in removing the items stowed in his hammock, breaks the silence with a firm statement. "This is going too far. They can't just invade our personal space like this." The sentiment is shared among the squad, each member nodding in agreement. Crosshair, typically terse, adds, "It's a breach of privacy. We're soldiers, not specimens."

Hunter, the unofficial leader of the group, gazes at Orion, still nestled in Tech's arms. "We need to find a way to put a stop to this. We won't let them use Orion for their experiments." Wrecker, flexing his massive arms, grumbles, "Yeah, we should tell 'em to leave us alone or else."

Tech, carefully observing the camaraderie of his brothers, acknowledges Echo's concern. "Echo's right. We can't let this continue. We have to find a way to push back without risking Orion's safety." Crosshair, ever the realist, interjects, "Just saying 'no' won't cut it. We need a plan. They won't give up easily."

Tech, focused on the dilemma, replies, "We have to exploit their regulations. Find a loophole that allows us to retain our privacy while adhering to their rules." Hunter, contemplating the situation, suggests, "Maybe we can request a designated storage area for personal items. That way, they won't have an excuse to rummage through our stuff. No… makes no sense asking them that. Maybe we need to store more things in the Marauder."

Echo nods in agreement, "And we need to establish boundaries. Let them know that certain areas are off limits, especially when it comes to Orion's belongings. He is not theirs, we maybe be, but not Orion."

Wrecker, always direct, adds with a grin, "If they mess with us, they mess with the whole squad. And we're not an easy bunch to mess with." Tech, appreciating the collective effort, concludes, "Agreed. We present a united front, assert our rights within the confines of their regulations, and ensure Orion's well-being is protected."

As the family deliberates on their strategy, a shared determination emerges to safeguard their personal space and shield Orion from unwanted interference.

Chapter 68

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd @sskim-milkk @heidnspeak

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mamuzzy · 3 months

Text

MAMUZZY READS HARD CONTACT: Introduction

Hey All, remember when I vented about how I will start my own re-reading because I'm annoyed about the existing fan-takes over this series, discouraging new fans to engage?

Now it's happening!!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

This one is an Introduction post about my personal thoughts before actually starting, not an actual chapter.

I don't have a specific agenda on what I want to achieve with this blogging, other than I want to share my thoughts with you, share my enthusiasm, collecting favorite or thought-inducing quotes, hunting for lore (clone, jedi, mando, kaminoan and character lore in general) and most importantly: thirsting over my favorite blorbos.

Maybe a bit want to counter all that negativity that surrounds this fandom with providing a different perspective.

Is this a masterpiece? Probably not. Do I enjoy it? HELL YEAH. And in the end, this is what counts.

I won't tag this as pro-jedi, or anti-jedi, or [insert a name/faction/author here]-critical or similiar kind of fandom faction fuckery. Only a Sith deals in absolutes.

But before reading it, I wanted to share some thoughts...

-- About Critical Thinking... --

My first reading of the books happened without the influence of knowing anything about the author and I avoided repcomm side of tumblr like a plague. I didn't want the author's personal worldview or the existing factions on the internet influence me in any way while reading.

I think this helped me completely immerse in the story itself and not just looking it through a glass wall like an outsider under peer-pressure and with a strict community guide how is allowed to engage with the books otherwise you will be called names.

If you follow me through, I still encourage you to read it yourself so you can form your own opinion. But don't forget, you can always put down a book if you end up not liking it.

Everyone interpret the books differently: enjoyment or hatred depends on different life experiences, how old are you, what culture are you from, and often what opinions have you heard before about the said media. Sometimes it's just about basic reading comprehension (or the lack of it).

Critical thinking is not "skipping 20 pages because it contains Kal Skirata who is a shitty person and it taints you if you read". Critical thinking is able to form an opinion outside of the existing factions influences and resisting peer-pressure and being open minded for new information.

I'm just a random dude on the internet who will share you with his experiences about the books. But that is just one part of the truth. Just as an anti have their own truth. You will have your own truth.

But Mamuzzy, how can you be so gullible! This book is a bad representation to [insert a group here]! It conveys the wrong message!

What do you do with the wrong messages? You follow it through like it's some kind of ultimate truth anyway?

If you need fiction to hold your hand and tell you that you shouldn't treat your friends/family/partner/pets bad, the problem is not in the fiction, the problem is in YOU. If you feel you can act shitty toward people because that one fiction validated your urge to hurt people, the fault is not in the fiction but in YOU.

In the end of the day only that matters how do you behave with a living, breathing person in front of you.

-- Republic Commando IS A FANFICTION --

Bear in mind that mostly every written Star Wars book is a published fanfiction. Treat Republic Commando as such.

-- Star Wars is a fairy tale. RepComm is not. --

The Original Triology is a fairy tale. Good guys with blue lightsabers beating the bad buys with red lightsabers who hurt people and destroy planets and in the end good guys win. The roles are established. You know who to root for, you are spoon-feed with the narrative.

Republic Commando is not a fairy tale. Mando'a doesn't have a word for heroes, and this book doesn't have heroes either. Just people.

Protagonists =/= Heroes with unquestionable morals.

Am I supposed to root for THESE PEOPLE?

You are not obligated to do anything. Just know that this is not a traditional hero's journey story.

In my reading this story is about broken and lost people trying to find their place in the world while trying not to die. A literal found-family story.

-- About Jedi lore --

Karen Traviss doesn't make it a secret questioning the jedi about handling the whole war situation, about handling the clones, about being the puppets of the Senate/Sheev Palpatine and with it, Darth Sidious. But the conflicts and hostility between the Mandalorians and the Jedi are not Karen Traviss' invention.

Her characters are mostly Mandalorians who have grudge against the JEDI ORDER as a faction, and other characters who are influenced by mandalorian culture.

In the prequels, the Jedi Order is introduced like any other religious cult with govermental support behind them and George Lucas uses the same black-and-white thesises in this grey area. Darth Sidious didn't destroy the jedi with his sith force powers. He could destroy the jedi because he was damn effective politican and a master manipulatior who found the perfect pawns to execute his plans. That's my take on the jedi order in the prequels.

Also note that Karen Traviss' lore about the Jedi and the Force is completely different from George Lucas' thesises about the Star Wars universe.

I'll try and point it out these differences as we are advancing through the chapters.

-- No inhibitor chips in RepComm --

Inhibitor chips don't exist in Republic Commando universe and the concept wasn't introduced until The Clone Wars series. The troopers are very well aware of the 150 Contingency Orders, including Order 66.

Throughout my reading, comments and thoughts are appreciated! I'm open for conversation ^^

Because this is the first time I'm doing such thing, I can't say how much time I need to process a chapter, but I plan to do at least 1 chapter/week so I won't neglect my other hobbies, while surviving my increasing workhours as I go into the summer. :D

See you soon at Prologue + Chapter 1! (* ^ ω ^)

#repcomm #republic commando #star wars #mamuzzy reads stuff #mamuzzy reads repcomm

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