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marionarnold · 3 years

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It was Jesse who’d started it, boasting about how many pushups he could do. Ludwick had scoffed at the number and then Rudger had insisted that he could do more. Given that the trooper carried around the Z-6 that was not quite so lightly rejected however Jesse insisted that he would be able to do more in a competition because his generation had been bred tougher. That of course had left Fives an opening to, contrary to Rex’s preference, point out that by that rationale the Captain was the toughest of all of them.

In which Rex won but gets punished anyway.

Repercussions (to a little harmless cheating)

What started out as a simple task to inventory the medical supplies, with the assistance of three troopers that he’d happened to walk past who were not looking otherwise gainfully employed had been complicated by the arrival of Jesse and Fives, both of whom were bored after having been to the mess, had their showers and were not ready to hit the barracks quite yet.

“How many pushups can you do Captain?” Archie had asked, still with the shiny reverence for his Captain which was normally equal parts endearing as annoying.

“Enough,” he replied repressively, feeling a little guilty when Archie’s head dropped a little.

Fives was not the type to be repressed though. “Don’t suppose you’d care to put your credits where your mouth is then Cap? A friendly competition – who can do can do the most pushups?”

“Uh-uh,” Kix intervened in his best medic tone. “Last time there was a comp it went on for three hours and I was then up for another three hours massaging the lactic acid out so that you could all lift a cup of caf the next morning.”

“So we’ll double up,” suggested Jesse after a pause, getting carried along the Fives train. Kix sighed heavily however nodded – it would be harder however not take as long and there would be more opportunity for recovery.

There was a moment while they all did the count.

“We’re one short,” Ludwick said somewhat unnecessarily.

Rex shrugged, he wasn’t the one who needed to prove anything. The others however, except perhaps Kix, looked decimated.

A flash of blue went passed the doorway and even as Rex realised the implications, Fives had moved to the doorway.

“Oh Commander!” Ahsoka paused, looking over at him, cup of caf and datapad in her hands. “Can you give us a hand?”

Ahsoka willingly came to the room, looking at the group curiously as the reason for her assistance wasn’t immediately obvious. “Sure – what’s up?”

“We’re trying to settle a dispute,” explained Jesse.

“Hardly a dispute,” frowned Kix.

“Well, an uncertainty,” clarified Jesse. “We want to know who can do the most pushups.”

“Pushups really aren’t my thing,” Ahsoka pulled a face.

That was an understatement Rex’s lips twitched up a little. Situps she could do but she groused and complained and every push up was like getting blood out of a stone.

“Oh not you,” hastened Jesse. “We need you as a double.”

“A what?” Ahsoka was confused.

“A double,” repeated Fives as if that made anything clearer.

“You ride on the Captain’s back while he does the pushups,” Kix’s explanation was better.

“Oh,” Ahsoka blinked, calculating the mechanics of that scenario and coming up with a positive answer. “What’s the prize?”

There was a moment of silence as the possibilities occurred to them.

“Even on the negligible possibility that one of you nibral beat me I am not cleaning the ‘freshers,” stated Rex firmly squashing the idea of that or anymore of the unpleasant duties that captains no longer had to worry about when looking at the roster.

The restriction put a dent in their momentum, as probably did the Commander’s presence.

“Liberty hours,” said Fives suddenly. “Each losing pair has to give the winning pair an hour of liberty when we get back to Coruscant.”

It was agreed and there was a flurry of discussion as the rest of the troopers decided who was pairing with who and moved some of the crates to give them some room.

“Armour?”

“The Commander doesn’t have any on.”

“Yeah but the Captain does.”

“Are you taking any off Cap?’

Rex shook his head; both he and Kix had been wearing blacks only on their torso, with the exception of his comlink which he had retained, while their lower halves were fully armoured. Straight from the ‘freshers both Jesse and Fives were only in their blacks and boots. Ludwick while almost fully armoured to start with, stripped all the way to his blacks and bare feet leaving Archie half armoured, and Rudger left his gauntlets and boots on leaving Kix to balance out by retaining all but his boots on his lower half.

Rex chose a spot where he could look Jesse in the eye and lay down on the ground, bracing his feet shoulder width apart and settling his hands with fingers splayed under his shoulders. Jesse settled into a similar position, looking serious about the competition whereas Fives was grinning at the havoc he had caused. He was going to pay for this.

Ahsoka stood at Rex’s side, looking down at his prone form “How exactly...” she watched as Fives sat down next to Jesse and then lay down across his torso and then swung his legs up and onto the other trooper before crossing his hands behind his neck in what would have been an ungainly manoeuvre except for how smoothly he performed it. She blinked and then looked over to where Archie had draped himself face down on Ludwick’s back, their shapes moulded together, and his chin on Ludwig’s shoulder “umm,” she looked down at Rex’s back.

“Step over him and then sit down on his shebs,” advised Kix, standing over the top of Rudger. “Then lay back and put your legs on his. You might want to wrap your arms around his waist,” he added as he sat down and demonstrated.

Rex felt Ahsoka’s weight land carefully on his armoured backside – probably not the most comfortable position for her – and then her legs swing up to rest along his. She braced herself with her hands against the ground and lowered her torso down, his head landing just at the base of his neck, her back lekku running down his spine. He lifted up slightly and her arms wrapped around his chest but her reach wasn’t long enough and short of her digging her nails into him she didn’t have anything to hang onto.

“Grab my belt,” he suggested and she moved her hands, using her elbows and forearms to grip his torso and tucking her thumbs between him and his utility belt to give her a grip. She pulled her legs up a little, and quickly toed off her shoes, bracing her toes around his ankle.

“All ready?,” called Fives after she appeared to be settled.

“Ready,” replied those doing the pushing.

“Rep Up! droid mother,” Fives started the count.

“Lover!” Kix over-rode Fives’ word a little too loudly. Rex’s lips twitched and he felt Ahsoka giggle, she’d been around soldiers too long not to have heard the word.

“Oh one!” finished Fives blithely as they came back down. “Rep Up! Droid mother lover oh two,” he continued in a sing song voice.

Rex moved with the cadence easily, Ahsoka was not exactly a light weight but the fact that she wasn’t exactly the same height and skeletal dimensions as him meant she did fit better on his frame than one of his brothers. She found her balance after the first few repetitions and he could soon hear her humming along to the rhythm.

“Hey it’s a comp!”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh the Lieutenant is going against the Captain!”

“So who’s that?”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover three two.” Fives was still the lead voice however the audience had joined in, although a few had stumbled over the revised text initially, and the combined volume was bringing in more and more troopers every repetition.

Ludwick started struggling; his breath becoming uneven a edgy as he inhaled and the exhaled in too forceful a whoosh. Jesse gave one glance across however Rex kept his eyes on his Lieutenant.

“You can do it Lud,” urged Archie, probably as much in genuine encouragement as wanting to avoid losing an hour of liberty. “Keep steady, push on!”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover four eight.”

Ludwick hit the ground and groaned, the rep count moving on without him. The crowd murmured a little, a few credits changed hands, and Archie rustled his hair in commiseration and rolled off to sit up and watch the others. “Bad luck vod – good try.”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover five seven.”

Rudger swore under his breath as he hit the ground, grabbing at his arm. Kix rolled off immediately and pushed his thumbs into the cramping muscle.

“So how’s it going Lieutenant?” asked Ahsoka conversationally, tipping her head so that her montrals framed either side of Rex’s head and she could view their competition, albeit upside down. “Ready to give up yet?”

“If you’ve got somewhere to be Commander I’m sure the Captain would be happy to stop,” replied Fives to the ceiling, letting the others in the room keep going with the modified cadence. “He’s got to almost at the edge of his endurance now.”

“I think you’re confusing my experience with yours Fives,” she replied gaily. “The Captain isn’t showing any signs of slowing.”

He might not be slowing but Rex was definitely starting to feel it now. Thankfully though so was Jesse judging by the slight grimace on his face.

“Come on Lieutenant!”

“Smashing it Cap!”

“Push it Jesse!”

“You’ve got this!”

“Obliterate him vod!”

The crowd had definitely grown now; troopers surrounded the two remaining combatants, perched on crates or hanging from the rafters to get a proper view. Credits and insults were flying around with equal abandon.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover six nine.”

Fives’ voice pitched as Jesse wavered; Fives moved his arms to Jesse’s torso to keep him better balanced. “Come on vod, you’ve got this!” he left the cadence to the crowd to maintain while he started giving encouragement. “Just up and down, up and down, show the Captain what you’re made of! Think of how you can use that extra hour of his at the 79s!”

“Doing awesome Rexter,” Ahsoka tempered her voice so only he could hear. “It’s a walk in the park for you!”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover seven two.”

“He’s wavering!” shouted Fives, “You’ve got him on the run.”

“Push through it Rex,” insisted Ahsoka. “Show them what the first gen are made of!”

Jesse grunted as he jerked up, Fives tightening his grip a bit. “You can do it Jesse! Another five’ll do it!”

Rex gritted his teeth, forcing the inhale through his nose and then exhaling full strength through his mouth. His legs were on fire and there was a definite wobble in his arms.

“Get up there Jesse!”

“Don’t be a pussy Jesse!”

“You’re the kriffin man Cap!”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover seven eight.”

Jesse hit the deck with a crash, Fives tumbling off him onto the ground to a chorus of yells, jeers and cheers. Ahsoka whooped in delight, shoving both hands in the air

“Bad luck Vod,” Fives reached over and planted a kiss on the back of Jesse’s head. “You’ll get him next time.”

“Next time I’ll double for you,” groaned Jesse into the floor, his arms out front of him.

The kriff no thought Rex, catching sight of Fives’ grin. The bastard was probably aiming for that to start with. He pushed himself back up in another repetition, forcing Ahsoka to grab back at his belt quickly. A point needed to be made.

Fives’ eyes widened and the delighted crowd cheered, starting the chant in unison “Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight oh” even as credits and side bets flew around again.

“Um Rex?” asked Ahsoka quietly. He didn’t have the breath to explain though.

He pushed up again eighty five he decided. That would be enough of a point.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight one.”

Four more.

A subchant was happening “Captain! Captain!”

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight two.”

Three more.

Rex pushed up again, and felt it easier.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight three.”

This time the push up was definitely easier and he wondered if he was maybe lightheaded.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight four.”

There was barely any resistance to him on the push up; he could still feel Ahsoka’s feet and her presence against his skidplate and her head against his neck however he could only feel her lekku part the way down his spine. Almost as if....

He choked down a laugh as he realised what was happening. Maybe he could go ninety – that would keep Fives quiet for a good half a standard Coruscant cycle.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight five.”

“Oh he’s just showing off now!”

“He has an unfair advantage!” called out Fives, kneading at one of Jesse’s arms while Kix did the other. “The Commander’s nowhere near as heavy!”

“Togruta have a higher bone density,” replied Kix mildly, his smile in his voice.

“Rep Up! Droid mother lover eight six.”

“Yeah well I’m going to need to see a set of scales on that one Commander!” There was laughter however no response from Ahsoka.

“He is right,” commented an authoritative voice from one of the crates near the doorway, spinning the troopers around and straightening the shinies to something close to attention. Commander Cody jumped down, pulling his helmet off and walking into the room a bit further, watching as Rex did another pushup. “It is a bit of a moot point of course given that the Commander is levitating.”

There was a shocked silence.

Rex lost all concentration at the exposure, hitting the ground suddenly and almost face planting the floor; Ahsoka was caught somewhat off guard and a definite gap appeared between them before she too fell and the room erupted in a cacophony of voices. Ahsoka landed on Rex with enough force to make him grunt, and then rolled off giggling uncontrollably. Rex rolled onto his back, stretching out his arms and sucking in the breaths.

“Winner!” Fives held up Jesse’s arm in victory and there was a cheer of support from those who had lost their credits.

Say what? Rex’s eyes snapped open and he went to sit up; he was stopped by a foot against his chest and glanced up at Cody, an icy feeling suddenly in his belly.

“Oh no no no,” Ahsoka protested. “The Captain won that competition fair and square!”

“You were levitating!” replied Fives with spirit.

“Only after Jesse had dropped out,” she insisted.

“Yeah that’s a likely excuse Commander,” Fives’ voice was light enough that it was teasing rather than accusatory. “We’ve all been in the PT sessions with you.”

Ahsoka had the grace to blush, she certainly wasn’t above cheating if it got her out of an exercise she didn’t want to do ‘I have a lightsabre Rex – why do I need to be able to do a chin up?’

“We certainly can’t have the veracity of the Captain’s win in doubt,” said Cody, standing casually with one foot still pressed lightly to Rex’s chest. Ahsoka, spinning around to look at Cody, saw his stance and her eyes widened, looking down to Rex. Rex gave her a wink however he could feel the danger building.

“I think a few more pushups just to put the matter to bed.”

“He has done more than eighty doubles and up to six singles,” put in Kix, his words giving the Commander the benefit.

Cody glanced down at Rex “Impressive vod,” he said softly so that only Rex heard him. Then in a louder voice “And now he’s had some recovery time so - another twenty to call the bet won – Jesse?”

Rex grimaced harsh yet fair and Jesse nodded, leaning back on a crate with an attitude of a man that was going to enjoy his revenge. Cody took off his foot and stepped back.

Ahsoka was stricken “I’m sorry Rex,” she whispered and she kneed her way over to him.

“It was a good idea,” he replied with a grin and gave his upper arms a quick rub and flipped back over onto his belly, setting his feet and hands back into position. He felt Ahsoka’s hand on his back.

“Oh no Commander,” virtually purred Cody. “As his co-conspirator you can do twenty plyos to help him win the bet.”

Rex grinned despite himself, knowing how much Ahsoka hated them.

“With no Force assistance,” added Cody firmly and received a cheer from the crowd.

“But Commander,” she said silkily. “You won’t know if I’m using the Force or not.”

“I will though,” said a melodic voice rich in amusement, making a number of troopers jump and Ahsoka’s head snap around suddenly, her mouth forming a comical ‘oh’ of dismay as she looked at Obi-Wan leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes laughing at her.

There was a round of cheers and applause.

Ahsoka gave a dramatic sigh and walked around to be head to head with Rex, giving him a rueful grin as she readied herself into position which suddenly changed to wide eyes and a look of dismay which confused Rex for a moment.

Then Cody sat down and Rex realised how far into the harsh side of the ledger he was going even as the room exploded once more into laughter, applause and cheers. Cody had a good ten kilos on top of the majority of his brothers from sheer muscle mass, plus with the exception of his helmet which he placed on the ground the bastard was fully armoured and that added another thirty kilos again.

Imma going to kriffin obliterate you vod thought Rex as he looked over his shoulder, meeting Cody’s gaze and serene smile you can try.

“Ready when you are Captain, Commander” announced Cody placidly, crossing his arms across Rex’s shoulders so that their heads didn’t clash.

“I don’t think I like the Commander anymore,” observed Ahsoka acidly.

“He is an acquired taste,” agreed Rex.

“Rex I’m not.... “ she started uncertainly.

“You can do this,” stated Rex firmly. “You will do this.”

“I can do this,” she repeated. “I will do this.”

“Widen your stance,” Rex advised, “turn your fingers inside a little.” He nodded as she made the corrections. “Stick with the same rhythm on the way up, control your descent. You lose your descent you’re a gonna.”

She nodded and took a breath and released it. She looked up at him sharply.

“We are going to do twenty one aren’t we?” she asked.

He grinned at her “Abso-kriffin-lutely,” and pushed up to the cheers of the crowd.

#Captain Rex #captain rex #ahsoka and captain rex #not shippy unless you squint #just a bit of fun #cody has fun #ahsoka does start having fun but not so much by the end of it #rex will need another nap #which is a shameless plug to an earlier fic #marion writes

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repcommquotes · 3 years

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Kal is not even seven years old when he’s adopted. Kal is picked up off a battlefield severely traumatized as a very young child after surviving in a warzone for at least a year all alone, essentially since he was a five year old - after his entire world is torn apart. He’s haunted by nightmares of his parents corpses, he’s seen their crushed bodies.

Then he’s offered ‘safety’ by Mandalorians. Munin renames him almost immediately meaning even if someone was looking for Kal under his birth name, they probably wouldn’t be able to find him. There’s no indication Munin was even going to see if he still had living family left in the form of aunts, uncles, or grandparents either- he’s already made the decision to adopt Kal. Then Munin treats him like crap under the guise of toughening him up and talks a big game of offering a better life to a child who has no genuine ability to consent or fully understand the implications, a child that just wants safety, security, and family again.

Munin is incredibly hard on him then softens up up that lesson by being ‘kind’. Just like Kal would be training his Commandos to face death and then sneak them pieces of cake.

Kal treats others as he himself was treated.

Kal looks at the Nulls and he sees himself because they are him. He looks at these kids and thinks he will save them the same way he was saved while he never dwells too deeply on what it cost him, or what it would cost the Nulls in turn.

Read More includes the Repcomm passage.

Mes Cavoli, Mid Rim, approximately fifty years before the Battle of Geonosis

“ Get up! Get up and run, you little chakaar, or I'll drag you up."

Falin Mattran could see the curling smoke of the mercenaries' camp a couple of hundred meters away, but it might as well have been a hundred kilometers. He couldn't get up: he couldn't go on. He knelt on all fours, struggling for breath, every muscle burning, but he refused to cry.

He was seven years old. Nearly. He thought it was six years and ten months, but he'd lost count in the war.

"Can't," he said.

"Can." Munin Skirata was a big man with pockmarked green armor and a blaster that fired metal pellets. He loomed above, voice deafening, face invisible behind a helmet with a T-shaped visor that scared Falin the first time he saw it. "I know you can. You survived Surcaris on your own. And you're not strolling in your fancy Kuati park now, so shift your shebs, you lazy little nibral."

It wasn't fair; life generally wasn't. Falin's parents were dead, and he hated the world. He wasn't sure if he hated Munin Skirata, but if he could have killed the man right then, he would have. Only exhaustion stopped him. He almost reached for the knife he'd taken from his father's body when he realized Papa was dead and was never going to wake up however hard he tried to rouse him, but he couldn't take his weight off both arms without collapsing into the dirt.

"You can do it if you want to," Munin yelled. "But you don't want to, and that makes you a nibral. You know what a nibral is? A loser. A waste of space. Deadwood. Get up!"

Falin wanted one thing, and that was to show that he wasn't lazy or stupid. His dad had never called him stupid. Neither had his mother; they loved him and made him feel safe, and now they were gone forever. He struggled into a kneeling position, then stood up, swaying and tottering, before breaking into a run again.

"That's more like it." Munin jogged alongside him. "Come on. Shift it."

Falin's legs didn't feel like part of his body anymore. He'd run so far that they wouldn't do what he wanted; he was trying to run, but stumbling along in small steps, unable to find a steady rhythm. His lungs screamed for a rest. But he wasn't going to stop and be a nibral. He didn't want to be one of those.

Ahead was as near to home as he was ever going see again, a camp that moved from place to place each day, where he sobbed himself to sleep every night with his fist crammed into his mouth so the Mandalorians wouldn't hear him and think he was a baby for crying so much.

He could see the Mando soldiers standing around in the camp, watching. They all wore armor. Even their women were tough soldiers, and it wasn't always easy to tell who was under that armor, male or female-or even if they were human.

Falin willed his body on, but it wasn't listening. He pitched forward flat on his face.

Every time he tried to get up, gravel and dirt cutting into his palms, his arms gave way again. He sobbed in frustration. The finish line was still a long way off. But he had to get up. He had to finish.

I'm not lazy. I'm not a nibral. I won't let him call me that-"Okay, ad'ika," Munin said, scooping him up in his arms. He sat Falin on one hip as if he was used to carrying kids and strode into the camp. The sudden switch from yelling to kindness was confusing. "You did okay, lad. It's all right."

Falin hit Munin as hard as he could, but his balled fist bounced off the metal breastplate. It hurt. He wasn't going to let Munin know that, though. "I hate you," he said, now certain at last. "When I'm bigger, I'm going to kill you."

"I bet you would," Munin said, smiling. "You already tried once."

The other Mandalorians watched, some with helmets on, some not. They'd finished fighting their war here. They were waiting for a ship to take them home.

"You trying to kill that boy?" One of the men stopped to ruffle Falin's hair. His name was Jun Hokan, and he was eating shavings of that horrible dried fish stuff, gihaal, carving them from a big chunk with his vibroblade and popping them into this mouth the way some folks ate fruit. "Poor shab'ika. Hasn't he been through enough?"

"I'm just training him."

"There's such a thing as too much."

"Come on, he's mandokarla. He's already managed to survive on his own. He's all guts, this one."

"Guts or not, I didn't have my boy do proper training runs until he was eight."

Falin didn't like being talked about as if he couldn't understand what was going on. In the center of the camp-tents made of plastoid sheets strung over pits, then covered with grass and branches-a pot of stew was cooking over a crackling fire. Munin set him down and scrubbed his face and hands clean with a cold wet rag before ladling stew into a bowl and handing it to him.

"We'll have to get you some armor when we get home," Munin said. "You need to learn to live and fight in it. Beskar'gam. The Mandalorian's second skin."

Falin slurped from the bowl. He was always hungry. The stew was more like a broth-no lovely fat dumplings like his mother made-and he didn't like the fishy smell, but this was a banquet compared with what he'd scavenged in the ruined city for a year.

"Don't want any armor," he said.

"You can do all kinds of things when you're wearing armor that ordinary folks can't do, Kal."

Munin called him Kal. In the man's own language, it had something to do with knives and stabbing. Munin had nicknamed him Kal because Falin had tried to stab him with the three-sided knife when they first met; the Mandalorian seemed to think it was funny, and hadn't been angry at all. But Munin fed him, and didn't hurt him, and in the weeks since Falin had been part of the mercenary camp, he'd felt better even if he wasn't happy.

Sometimes Munin called him Kal'ika. The mercenaries told him it meant "little blade," and showed that Munin was fond of him.

"I'm Falin," he said at last. "My name's Falin." But he was already forgetting who Falin was. His home in Kuat City seemed like a dream mostly forgotten when he woke up, more a feeling than a memory. His family had moved to Surcaris while his father did engineering stuff on the new KDY warships there. "I don't want another name."

Munin ate with him. When he wasn't shouting, he was actually a kind man, but he could never take Papa's place. "Starting over can be a good thing, Kal'ika. You can't change the past or other folks, but you can always change yourself, and that changes your future."

The thought grabbed Falin and wouldn't let go. When you felt powerless, the idea of being able to make the bad stuff stop was the best thing in the world, and he didn't want to feel this bad ever again. He wanted things to change.

"But why do you make me run and carry things?" he asked. "It hurts."

"So that you can handle anything life throws at you, son. So that you never have to be afraid of anyone again. I'm going to make a soldier of you."

Falin liked the idea of being a soldier. He had a vague but long list of beings he wanted to kill for hurting his parents, and you could do things like that if you were a soldier. "Why?"

"It's a noble profession. You're tough and smart, and you'll be a great soldier. It's what Mandalorians do."

"Why didn't you kill me? You kill everyone else."

Munin chewed thoughtfully for a while. "Because you don't have parents, and me and my missus don't have a son, so it sort of makes sense that we do what Mandalorians always do-that we take you in, train you, set you up to be a soldier and a father yourself. Don't you want that?"

Falin thought about it for a long time. He didn't have an answer, other than that he was lonelier now among other beings than when he'd lived on his own in the rubble on Surcaris, because all the Mandalorians seemed to belong. They were close-knit, like a family. And they hadn't killed his parents; they'd just rolled into town a year later while the war was still raging. He still felt angry, though, and they'd do as a focus for his anger until the real thing came along.

"You think I'm lazy and stupid," Falin said.

"No, I just say that and shout at you to get you mad enough to push yourself to the limit." Munin watched him empty the bowl and then refilled it. "Because strength is up here." He tapped his head. "You can make your body do anything if you want to badly enough. It's called endurance. When you find out just how much you can do, how much you can face, you'll feel fantastic-like nobody can ever hurt you again. You'll be strong in every sense of the word."

Falin wanted to feel fantastic. On a full stomach, life seemed vaguely promising as long as he didn't think about his mother and father, lying there among the shattered beams of the house they'd rented on Surcaris.

It was an image he couldn't get out of his mind. He got up to wash the bowl in a pail of water and then sat down again next to the fire to look at his father's knife, as he did every day. It had three flat sides, like a pyramid stretched out to a point. He'd never been allowed to touch it while his father was alive, but he'd taught himself to use it because he had nowhere to run and nobody to look after him. He could throw it pretty well now. He practiced a lot. He could hit any target, moving or otherwise.

"What's it like being a soldier?" he asked.

Munin shrugged. "Often boring. Sometimes scary. You travel a lot. You make the best friends you could ever have. You really live. And sometimes-you die too early."

"Do I have to follow orders?"

"Orders keep you alive."

It wasn't quite dusk, but Falin could hardly keep his eyes open, and he sank into a delicious numb fatigue as the world receded. He tried to stay in that twilight state because sleep inevitably brought the dreams; but he was just too tired. At one point he was aware of being picked up and carried but he didn't wake fully and the last thing he felt was settling into a pile of warm blankets in one of the shelters that smelled of machine oil, smoke, and dried fish.

It was then that the dream started again. He knew he was dreaming, but it didn't help. He walked through the front doors of the house on Surcaris, all the walls shattered and fallen with just the doors left intact, and he didn't recognize what he stepped on as his mother until he saw the blue fabric of her favorite tunic. He looked around for his father.

Papa was lying by the remains of the window, and Falin knew something wasn't right, but it took him a few moments to work out that most of his father's head was missing. He knelt down to take the knife from his father's belt and thought he saw him move.

It was always then that he woke up. It hadn't been like that in real life-he'd huddled next to the bodies for ages before he decided he had to run and hide, and took the knife to defend himself-but in the dream, it was all faster, different, more horrible. He jerked awake, heart pounding.

"Papa's head ...," he sobbed. "Papa's head's broken."

Munin Skirata hugged Falin to his chest. "It's okay," he said. "I'm here, son. I'm here. It's just a bad dream."

"I want it to stop. I want to stop seeing Papa's head."

Munin didn't yell at him for crying. He just held him until he stopped. Falin clung to him and sobbed until he couldn't get his breath anymore. He realized that the three-sided knife was on his belt now, in a new leather sheath, and he didn't know where that had come from.

"It'll stop, Kal," Munin said. "I promise. And nobody's ever going to hurt you while I'm around. You're going to grow up strong, and you're going to be happy."

Falin decided he didn't mind being called Kal if it made the nightmare go away. Somehow, the two things were now connected: if he stopped being Falin, he stopped seeing his parents' bodies. Munin Skirata sounded so certain and felt so strong and solid that Falin believed him. You could change if you wanted to. You could do anything if you wanted to.

"I'm not really a nibral, am I?"

" 'Course not, Kal," Munin said quietly. "I shouldn't have said it. There's no word for what you are in Mandalorian."

Falin-Kal-didn't understand. He looked up into Munin's face for an explanation.

"Hero," Munin said. "We don't have a word for hero. But you're a real little hero, Kal Skirata."

Kal Skirata. It was who he was going to be from this moment onward. He fell asleep again, and when he woke the next morning-no dreams, no nightmares-he saw that the world was a different place.

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thebisexualmandalorian · 2 years

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39?

39. badass?

This is so hard omg. Um... honestly probably Shrike or Nibral.

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greenygreenland · 3 years

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Hera Syndulla drawing(s). The first one was made this morning around 2 because I am a night owl.

These were drawn on the same day lmao. The difference is that one is drawn with reassurance that I can draw and the other is filled with doubt that I'll ever get to the finish line.

Ni cuyi di'kut a ni ru'hibrila. Ni jii udesii. Ibi'tuur birov nibral.

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #hera syndulla #star wars fanart #clone wars fanart #my art #スターウォーズ

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mandowords · 5 years

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nibral

[NEE-brahl]

loser, failure

#mandoa #mandalorian #mandalore #star wars #todays word

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izzyovercoffee · 7 years

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The word for loser, failure, in mando'a literally translates to "I AM the high ground."

me, yelling excitedly

see: nibral --- loser, failure

from ni, I, me, and bral, hill fort, high defended position, high ground

Obes Kenobes: "Anakin, I have the high ground!" Anakin "I don't give a FUCK" Skywalker: "I AM THE HIGH GROUND"

#star wars #mando'a #izzy talks mando'a #mandalorians #I was trying to do a reasonable mando'a post and instead #INSTEAD THIS #INSTEAD #THIS #IZZY.TXT

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kristsune · 7 years

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R2M for the ask meme!

Full Name: CT-8112 MischiefGender and Sexuality: Agender, asexualPronouns: he/him (though is fine with they/them as well)Ethnicity/Species: clone, space kiwiBirthplace and Birthdate: Kamino Guilty Pleasures: any and everything soft and fuzzy, blankets, clothes, socks, scarves. If its soft and he can have it against him, he will.Phobias: Losing Rabble and RuckusWhat They Would Be Famous For: Being Huge, and part of the ARC Trio.What They Would Get Arrested For: Getting into a fight, because if anyone threatened r2, he would throw down, broken bones would probably be involved.OC You Ship Them With: Ruckus and Rabble (and @thebisexualmandalorian Loudmouth)OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Nibral. They do not like each other and that is putting it lightly.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Sci/fi fantasyLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: love triangles/cheating/etc. Just why thoughTalents and/or Powers: Can communicate silently with Rabble and Ruckus. Otherwise very good at a wide variety of skills. Can pilot, okay, great shot with a blaster, decent field medic. Why Someone Might Love Them: Because he is Big and sweet and wonderful and just loves to cuddle.Why Someone Might Hate Them: Dunno if it’s strong enough for hate, but he is very difficult to talk to/get to know. He doesn’t talk more than nessicary outside of the traid(quad once they bring in Loudmouth) Nibral is an outlier and should not be counted.How They Change: He becomes comfortable with himself, and accepts himselfWhy You Love Them: Because he is a big cuddly teddy bear that just needs love and snuggles.

Full Name: CT-6110, RabbleGender and Sexuality: Nonbinary, asexual, panromanticPronouns: he/him they/themEthnicity/Species: clone, space kiwiBirthplace and Birthdate: KaminoGuilty Pleasures: knives. so.. so many knives.Phobias: losing Mischief and Ruckus (and Loudmouth, he is the closest with Loudmouth out of the three)What They Would Be Famous For: his knife skills, both in throwing and juggling. and his sniper skills. Even Obi wan was impressed, that’s gotta stand for something right???What They Would Get Arrested For: starting fights with Loudmouth. They love to kick ass together. OC You Ship Them With: Mischief, Ruckus and Loudmouth (they are at least the very best of friends in literally every au)OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Nibral (honestly Nibral hates all three of them an awful lot, feeling is mutual though)Favorite Movie/Book Genre: fantasy/nature books/documentariesLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: miscommunication/ second hand embarrassment. Talents and/or Powers: Can silently communicate with Mischief and Ruckus Literally can make any shot with his sniper rifle, it’s impressive. And can make literally anyone smile with his laughter. It’s impossible to resistWhy Someone Might Love Them: Everything? He is good and pure and wonderfulWhy Someone Might Hate Them: No one, see previous answer How They Change: He becomes confident in himself and others.Why You Love Them: Everything, Rabble is precious and good.

Full Name: CT-2509 RuckusGender and Sexuality: Not cis, unspecified. AsexualPronouns: he/himEthnicity/Species: clone, space kiwi.Birthplace and Birthdate: KaminoGuilty Pleasures: the stars, making star mapsPhobias: losing Rabble and MischiefWhat They Would Be Famous For: Blowing things up, spectacularly. What They Would Get Arrested For: see above answerOC You Ship Them With: Rabble, Mischief and Loudmouth (and also platonically? with @thebisexualmandalorian‘s Nova)OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Nibral. Honestly. so much hate.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: science books, scary movies, thrillers Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: characters being stupid/ignoring the factsTalents and/or Powers:communicating silently with Rabble and Mischief, and honestly, can make a bomb out of anything. Why Someone Might Love Them: He;s a bit more of an acquired taste. But cares so much, even if he doesn’t always show it.Why Someone Might Hate Them: two words: Dad Jokes.How They Change: They open up to people outside the groupWhy You Love Them: I love my nerdy science loving son.

#kris replies #r2m #Jesse's children #thebisexualmandalorian #holy snaps that took a while #tadaaaaa #my sons

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thebisexualmandalorian · 1 year

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random oc ship, let's get weird with it: nibral/aralor?

Oh man, this is really hard!

Nibral definitely starts off lovebombing Aralor. Lots of gifts, spoiling them, taking them out for nice dinners whenever he's on Coruscant. He wants them to feel like they owe him, that he's taking care of them. And then he isolates them more and more, tries to manipulate them into giving up the bakery, because why would they want to spend so much time away from him? They don't need to work, he can take care of them. It's just so ugly and nasty.

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angelinatoms · 4 years

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From my first glimpse, I knew I was lost. This is a boat that seizes your attention and holds it ransom from reality. My test boat had a mostly black cockpit and, yes, I could hear the sizzle of my bare skin turning to pork rinds when I leaned against the rail in the midday Florida sun. Who cares?

Yes, the berth down below is fine for the kids or a cat nap, but not overnighting. Who cares? The sheer animal power of this yacht holds you captivated.

The latest offering from Marquis Yachts, the Marquis M42, is one of the new breed of express dayboats and has a lot of contradictions, which I realize is just a few letters away from addictions. Appearing to be long and seemingly lean, it’s actually 18 inches wider than a VanDutch 40. I’ve been aboard deep-V ocean crushers with $100,000 paint jobs that didn’t attract a fraction of the attention of the M42.

From the reversed bow to the wide swim platform, the M42 is all about fun. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

From the reversed bow (ax, battleship, snub?) to the wide swim platform, the M42 is all about fun. There’s a huge sun pad aft, wraparound cockpit dinette, and big cantilevered T-top (an option, but you know you want it). The sleek outdoor galley, with black carbon fiber peeking through the clear coat, has all the ingredients. My test boat had a sink, fridge and ice maker, plus stowage for bottles and glasses. An optional grill is available.

The helm would please Darth Vader mightily: black and angular, with room for twin Raymarine 16-inch monitors and everything placed so the skipper can easily see or tweak all the buttons and switches. The joystick was inboard and right where you want it, whether you’re right- or left-handed. A double-wide helm seat has a backrest high enough to be all-day comfy, bolsters for standing, and footrests at just the right height.

Step below and you’ll find some interesting contradictions. For example, there’s a one-burner stove on the galley, but also a walk-in shower with room for two, if you’re feeling slippery (the teak shower seat adds interesting possibilities).

Belowdecks is plush and well-appointed. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

Clearly this is a boat where you’ll either grill in the cockpit or eat ashore, using the cabin galley for, hmmm, what? Down there, you’ll find a microwave to pop the popcorn or heat the morning espresso, and the countertop is big (even for larger yachts) at 36 inches wide to lay out your PB&J sandwiches. The Isotherm fridge comes standard and will keep the Champagne cold.

The berth—ah, the berth. It’s the result of a dinette that is great for getting out of the heat or even the rain, as on my test afternoon, and it morphs into a 75-inch-wide (an inch shy of king) berth, but shaped so oddly, any idea of fitted sheets is hopeless. Just throw a pile of sheets and blankets on it and settle in.

There’s a one-burner stove on the galley, and an Isotherm fridge comes standard. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

The cabin gets big points on two fronts: First, the headroom is 6 feet, 5 inches throughout, and second, the wraparound windows provide both light and a view of the outside world.

Marquis does a great job with the details. The electrical panel is just inside the cabin door at eye level, so no stooping to find it. There’s even a hanging locker near the door so you can hang wet jackets or, I suppose, thong bikinis to drip into the bilge.

Access to the engine room should shame much larger yachts. The entire sun pad lifts on hydraulics, allowing you to walk down on steps to reach the engines and generator. The wiring and plumbing are seamanlike and tidy, the batteries accessible, and your service tech will love you.

The walk-in shower accommodates two. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

Even better, a separate locker is built under that sun pad, offering great storage for lines or shore cords, and another huge locker under the cockpit floor eats fenders and all the other gear.

Power for our test boat was a pair of Cummins QSB 480 hp diesels, which pushed us to just shy of 40 mph. Now, 40 mph on the road will get you honked at even in the slow lane, but 40 mph in the Gulf Stream is a whole ’nother critter. It’s not too much speed that Aunt Edna is going to scream, but she might grab her bonnet and shout, “Whee!” I know that my co-skipper, Armando Notz from Sovereign Yachts in Stuart, Florida, and I couldn’t get enough wheel time. “My turn, my turn!”

The M42 serves up crowd-stopping good looks. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

Marquis will be offering an outboard-powered version of the M42 later this year with triple Mercury Verado 400s. Getting rid of the diesel weight and upping the horsepower ante by 300 ponies should get you into the 50s, but you’ll lose that wonderful hydraulic swim platform that is so perfect for sandbar days. Your call. If you’re shopping, the VanDutch 40 ($695,000) has similar power and features.

There’s a huge sun pad aft. (Courtesy Marquis Yachts/)

When it comes to handling, Donald Blount and Associates’ hulls are known for seaworthiness and stability, and the M42 proved both nimble and reassuring as it slashed across the Gulf Stream. The boat reverse-threw the spray out and away, with few drops reaching that wraparound windshield. A little more fuel in the tanks, and we might have been tempted to run away to Bimini in the Bahamas.

Be careful when you first visit a Marquis M42; it’s a known addictive substance. You’ve been warned.

High Points

Great stability and tracking offshore.

Every nook and cranny have been turned into stowage.

Crowd-stopping good looks.

Low Points

Black cap across the windshield is directly at horizon level for the skipper’s eyes.

Permateek decking is hot in the sun.

Price: $663,955

Available Power: Inboard and Outboard

How We Tested

Engines: Twin 480 hp Cummins QSB diesels

Drive/Prop: Acme 22″ x 24″ 3-blade Nibral

Gear Ratio: 1.64:1

Fuel Load: 250 gal.

Water on Board: 10 gal.

Crew Weight: 410 lb.

Marquis Yachts – Pulaski, Wisconsin; marquisyachts.com

#boating #boatingtips #boatingsupplies #boatingnews #boatingshop #wolfcreek

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