#clone trooper Nax

[mwolf0epsilon]

#star wars #the clone wars #501st battalion #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #commander appo #clone pilot hawk #clone trooper nax #clone trooper attie #clone trooper denal #captain rex #eps polls #let the hunt begin :)

[clonesimpextra]

Photo from SDCC of Nax, formerly known as Vet Clone from the Kenobi show 🥲

This will be in the upcoming Dawn of the Rebellion Vishal Guide!

#clone troopers #clone trooper nax #obi wan kenobi series

[thecoffeelorian]

#random status update #republic commando #the bad batch #obi wan kenobi #rc-1207 #clone commando sev #tbb crosshair #clone trooper nax #*gently holds* #18+ account #18+ to follow me

[goblininawig]

Life Day on Daiyu

This story is a gift for @imarvelatthestars as part of the @cloneficgiftexchange ! I picked Nax, the Daiyu Veteran, and used these prompts from your list: Reader & clone creating new traditions together || Hand under the chin || Snuggles under a blanket || "Pretty girl"

Summary: Your heart goes out to the begging veteran, so you get him a job at the restaurant you manage. One thing leads to another, and soon he's a fixture of your life, and someone you want to celebrate.

Tags: Nax/f!reader, mild hurt/comfort, family drama, strangers to lovers, sharing a bed, domestic fluff, romantic fluff, Life Day fluff, fix-it of sorts, holiday fic exchange

Words: 4.9k

Rating: T

You saw him there most days, sitting with his painted helmet, empty neck up, hoping for a few credits to be tossed his way. He had long, graying hair and a bushy, grizzled beard to match. He wore the rest of his GAR-issued armor, scratched and scuffed as it was. He sat near the marketplace on your route to and from work. You tried to leave a few credits for him after your shifts, but he was usually gone by then.

“Hey, I was thinking,” you said, casually as possible, to Myndi Emadda, a Chagrian with dark purple horns growing from her elegant head tentacles. She owned the restaurant you managed. “What if we get that veteran from the market in here to wash dishes? Bet he’d be glad of the work.”

“That old bum?” she scoffed, looking briefly up from the datapad where the previous week’s earnings were on display. “What for?”

“I figure he’ll work harder than these other people who barely stick around for a week or two. You know it’s the job with the highest turn-over. A guy like that wouldn’t skip out on his shift,” you shrug.

Myndi rolled her orange eyes. “I guess if it’ll make you happy, let him try. These numbers are worth putting up with my new manager being a secret softie.” She finally made real eye contact with you and smiled. “Just keep the profits up,” she added, sashaying out the office door.

You won’t see her again for another week. But that suits you fine. Having freedom to run things your way is why you left your family’s restaurant business. Also, they never really stopped seeing you as a little kid. Maybe, one day, they’ll come around and actually listen to you, but for now, you’re happy here. Especially since it has given you opportunities to help people like this veteran…assuming he’s interested.

The following rotation, you left for work with plenty of time for a detour to the market. After dropping some credits in the veteran’s helmet, you return his grateful nod with a hesitant smile.

“Any chance you’re looking for work?”

He blinked at you, clearly surprised. Then he shifted uncomfortably on the hard duracrete, stretching his right leg out. He cleared his throat, and said, in a rough voice, “Might be. What’s the work?”

“Nothing much, just dishwashing at Myndi’s Cafe up that way,” you nodded down the street. “But it’s steady work with steady pay, and it’s yours as long as you’d want it.”

He swallows. “I – that’s – I could do that.”

You smiled and held out your hand, kneeling a bit so he wouldn’t have to stand to reach you, introducing yourself as you shook his hand.

“Nax,” he said, completing the introductions.

“I walk this way to work,” you explained. “I can meet you here tomorrow, about this time to walk you there, and talk you through everything. That sound all right, Nax?”

He nods.

“See you then,” you smiled again, then walked away, feeling his eyes on you as you went.

You commed your sometimes overbearing, but favorite cousin during your break, asking him to bring over some of his partner’s old clothes. He showed up with them on the following rotation, shortly before you needed to leave, and you snatched them from him hurriedly.

“Finally,” you complained, shoving them in a bag. “You’re gonna make me late,” you grumbled.

Brenko chuckled and leaned against your doorframe, completely unfazed. “You’re welcome.”

You made a face at him and then let out a reluctant, “Thanks.”

“Anytime, baby cuz,” he smirked. “Who’s the new boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes as you shoved him out of the doorway. “It’s not like that.” You shut and locked the door. Then you turned and give him a hug. “Good to see ya.”

“Yeah, same. Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

“No promises,” you called behind you as you hurried towards the market.

Nax was waiting for you, helmet in hand, looking uncertain. You greeted him and then guided him to the back entrance of Myndi’s Cafe. There was a staff ‘fresher there with a shower, a few sinks, and several lockers. You pulled out the clothes from your cousin, and set them down on the bench.

“You can shower in here, and change. Hopefully something will fit you. But, uh, you can’t wear armor to work,” you explained, with a shy smile. “There’s soap and stuff on that shelf. Use whatever you need. When you’re ready, head out that way,” you point towards the hallway that connects to the back of the kitchen. “Whoever you find there can tell you where I’m at.”

He agrees with a wordless nod, and you leave him to it.

The next time you saw Nax, he was wearing a button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled, bronze forearms, and a pair of soft, black pants. He’d tied back half of his hair and trimmed his beard; it was still full, but no longer looked wild. You had to work hard to control your reaction. He looked incredible, and suddenly staying professional felt like a challenge. But you powered through the moment, and managed to keep yourself to an approving nod and a friendly (you hoped) smile.

“Okay, so this is Kile,” you said, leading him to the dish-washing area where the young human stood with his hip against the sink, looking bored. “He’ll show you through the basic process, and supervise the first few loads that come through. I’ll check back later,” you promised.

At the end of the night, when you locked up, Nax was waiting for you. He was back in his armor; the other clothes were folded up neatly and tucked into his helmet.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “Most folk won’t hire clones.”

You shrugged. “Their loss.”

For the first time ever, you saw a hint of a smile on his face, and warmth flooded your chest.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

He nodded. “Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

“I’d like that,” you replied.

He parted ways with you at the marketplace, and you wondered if he slept there, tucked away in some empty stall. The thought made you sad.

You and Nax easily fell into a routine of walking to and from work together. One rotation, when the weather had turned bitter cold, you knew you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he had to sleep outside.

“Nax,” you said, shivering in the wind, “do you want to sleep on my couch tonight?”

He frowned. “Sure you’d feel safe with me there?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I know I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you in this weather.”

Nax looked genuinely surprised, and touched. His expression softened. “Thank you.”

He followed you to your small rental flat. It was nothing compared to your family’s home, but you’re certain that Nax was the last person who’d judge your simple, and, admittedly, a bit crummy, living space. Your main reasons for staying there were that it had been instantly available and was close to work. Being able to walk to the market and to work was a grounding, simple pleasure you secretly cherished. You had always driven to work in the past.

In the central room, you had a second-hand sofa, a holoprojector, and not much else. Nax looked huge, standing there with his broad shoulders. You offered him a seat, mindful of the limp in his right leg he tried so hard to hide from you. He settled into the sofa, stretching his bad leg out in front of him. 

The kitchenette, to the left of the main entry, was sparsely supplied, but clean. Grabbing a glass of water for each of you, you joined him on the sofa. You sipped your water, feeling awkward.

“Are you hungry?” you thought to ask.

He shook his head, staring down at the glass in his hand.

“Well, if you get nibbly later, there’s stuff in the kitchen. Just poke around. Eat whatever,” you offered. “I’m gonna use the ‘fresher and then I’ll get you a blanket and all that.”

Nax looked at you and nodded, “Thank you.”

You nod back, trying to ignore the blush you feel heating your cheeks. “Sure.”

Washing your face and brushing your teeth gave you time to feel more settled. You left an extra toothbrush out for Nax, who was massaging his thigh when you passed through to your bedroom. 

You dug through a box you never fully unpacked to find your extra bedding. You put a fresh pillow case on a pillow and take it with the blankets to the empty sofa. Nax exited the ‘fresher just as you finished.

“Well,” you said, “good night. Hope you sleep ok.”

“Thank you,” Nax replied in his deep voice.

You smiled at him, and slipped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you laid in bed, you reflected on how risky and stupid your family would say you’re being, to let a man you barely know into your home. But you don’t feel like you made the wrong decision at all.

The following morning, you stumbled out of your room, yawning and rubbing at your eyes. You were getting caf ready to brew when a rumbling, “Good morning,” from behind shocked you. You screeched and jumped around, heart pounding. Then you saw Nax and remembered why he was there. You sagged against the kitchen counter.

“Kriff,” you managed weakly. “I forgot you were here.”

“I’m sorry,” Nax apologized from where he sat, his right leg stretched across the sofa.

You waved his apology away. “No need. I just wasn’t quite awake yet.” 

You smiled sheepishly. Nax looked about as awkward as you felt.

You visited the ‘fresher while the caf brewed, and then poured a cup for yourself and your guest. Nax swung his leg down so you could sit with him, and you silently enjoyed your hot drinks together. When you were more awake, you decided to let yourself pry a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already did,” Nax retorted, face serious, but his dark eyes twinkled with unexpected humor.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Okay, can I ask you something else?”

“Go ahead,” he replied. He sipped the last of his caf.

“Where do you usually sleep?”

Nax kept his eyes on his mug. At first you weren’t sure he would answer you, but then he said: “There’s a vendor at the market that lets me stow my extra gear under their booth during the day in exchange for guarding it at night.”

You bit your lower lip to keep yourself from ranting about how the vendor should pay him for guard work, not exploit his desperate situation. You forced yourself to take a few breaths before you reply. 

“Well, if you’d rather, you can stay here. I’m not used to living by myself, so you’d be doing me a favor.” That was only a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t been on your own before you moved here, but it wasn’t all that bad. Still, you’d rather have a roommate than force him back out in the weather. The real cold season hadn’t even hit yet.

When you finally looked up, you saw Nax staring at you. “Why would you want that?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Your heart went out to him. “Besides it just being the right thing to do?” you said at first, deflecting a bit. Then you softened at the look in his eyes, and added, “and I enjoy being around you.”

The grizzled ex-warrior didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He stared at you for a long moment, finally murmuring a soft “thank you.”

Once again, you left for work early to stop at the market, this time accompanied by Nax. The bundle he gathered from the muttering Gran vendor was pathetically small, containing as it did, all his worldly goods. It took all your customer service skills to keep from tearing into the three-eyed Gran and giving them a piece of your mind. Nax didn’t need you to fight his battles for him. And you didn’t need to foster ill will for him in the community. So you kept your mouth shut, and let yourself be silently grateful that he wouldn’t need to go back there again.

You and Nax settled into a cozy routine, starting your days with companionable cups of caf on the sofa. Little by little, you drew closer, physically and emotionally, and you would cuddle up to his warm side as you sat together. He was surprisingly handy, and fixed all the little problems with your flat that you’d been meaning to get around to someday: tightening loose screws and fiddly door panels. He didn’t know much about cooking, but that was your forte and it was a delight to share your knowledge with him. Soon he was surprising you with inventive meals of his own making. Living together put no strain on working together, and it was nice to have a companion.

You woke up shivering. The cold season had fully arrived, and the heat in your flat wasn’t working. Grumbling to yourself, you reached for your commlink, and sent a message to the building supervisor. But you only received an automated response: that the power had gone out for the entire block, and would be out until the city repaired the grid. Which meant you were in for a very bitter night.

Getting up, a blanket around yourself, you shuffled into the other room. “Nax?” you whispered, unwilling to disturb him if he was still asleep.

But he answered immediately, “Yes?”

“The power is out, so the heat’s out. Would you..wanna come shar my bed with me? I’m too cold to sleep.”

Nax didn’t hesitate. He stood and brought his blankets along to layer over yours. You smiled to yourself in the darkness and went back to bed. Nax joined you, his body heat instantly warming the little pocket of air trapped beneath the blankets. You gave a little contented sigh, and moved closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your back, holding you gently. As you drifted back to sleep, you wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

When you woke up again, it was in a much more pleasant way. Nax was curled on his side, and you were spooned up against his broad back and thighs, one arm flung around his waist. The cocoon of blankets was warm with your shared body heat. Nax smelt like musk and shampoo when you nuzzled into the hair at the nape of his neck. He brought a hand up to cover yours, gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Good morning,” came his sleep-roughened voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed in agreement. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

He squeezed your hand again, tighter this time, and you squeezed back. 

Every day you spent with Nax made you care for him more deeply. But you weren’t quite sure he really let himself acknowledge your affection for him. He seemed to assume others would find him worthless, which you couldn’t blame him, after he’d been discarded by the Galactic Republic-turned-Empire, and treated like a soulless being by the very people he’d spent his life fighting to protect. It was awful. You hoped that one day, he would see himself for the loveable man you knew him to be.

“Want to go somewhere we can take hot showers?” you asked.

“Stars, yes,” he sighed.

You hired a transport to get to your cousin’s place. Brenko had eagerly agreed when you’d invited yourself and Nax over. You knew he’d be a pain about it, but the amenities, you hoped, would be worth the trouble.

“Come in! Come in!” he waved you and Nax through the doorway of the home he shared with his partner. Brenko pushed you towards the bedroom, “you can take the master ‘fresher. And I’ll show your friend here,” he paused to look over Nax’s impressive form, “to the guest ‘fresher.”

“Don’t tell him any stories about our childhood,” you called out to their retreating backs.

“No promises,” Brenko sing-songed, making you roll your eyes.

You found Brenko in the kitchen later, after you’d cleaned up and changed. He was making a huge breakfast. “Where’s the hubs?” you asked, tossing some chopped fruit into your mouth.

“He’s been at work for hours, dear cuz,” Brenko replied, stirring something on the stove. “He manages all the before-open prep these days.”

“Oh yeah? Uncle Brice finally let him take that on?”

“Well, he had too. He threw his back out and finally admitted he can’t keep up anymore. Honestly, it was a relief.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Think you and your friend will be at the Life Day party this year?”

You grimaced, but were saved from answering by Nax entering the room. Your cousin must’ve loaned him more of his partner’s clothes, because he was wearing a green asymmetric v-neck sweater that showed off his neck and as well as a glimpse of his impressive pectorals. You tried not to stare at all the exposed brown skin. Nax was looking down at himself in consternation.

“You’re sure your husband won’t mind me taking these?” he asked, apparently not for the first time by the way Brenko waved it off.

“I told you, it’s fine. I’ve been trying to get him to clear out his closet for cycles. You’re doing me a favor.”

He turned and winked at you. You pursed your lips into a frown to hide your smile. You really shouldn’t encourage him to dress up your roommate in ways he knows will pique your interest, should you?

Nax sat down at the large kitchen island beside you, and Brenko slid a couple of steaming cups over. You inhaled the caf scent deeply, appreciative of the excellent blend your cousin used.

“Almost ready with this food here,” Brenko noted. “Go set the table, will you?”

You grumbled, just because, but set out the necessary objects. Nax moved to help, but you pushed him back down to the stool. “Rest,” you asserted gently. “You have to stand at work all day, I don’t.”

Nax sat back down without protest, which meant his leg was probably hurting him, because of the cold. You really needed to find some salve or something that would help take the edge off for him, you mused as you readied the table.

Brenko sat down and ate with you. It was nice to see how well he and Nax took to each other. They bonded easily over work stories of kitchen drama and talking about you like you weren’t there. It would’ve been annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. You left feeling full from more than just a meal.

The power had been restored by the time you and Nax walked home from work that evening. When it was time to sleep, Nax came into your room to retrieve his bedding. Before he laid a hand on anything, you blurted out, “You don’t have to sleep on the sofa, if you don’t want to.”

Feeling hopeful, but also shy and a bit embarrassed by your lack of finesse, you bit your lip and looked down at the floor. You could feel Nax looking at you. Then you heard him step closer to you, saw his feet and legs appear in your line of sight, and then one large, strong hand was lifting your chin up. 

You looked into his deep soulful eyes as he rumbled, “Are you sure?”

You swallowed, shifted closer to put your hands on his waist. “Yes.”

His hand left your chin to caress your cheek, and you leaned into the touch. “Alright.”

That night you fell asleep in his arms for the second time.

You stared at the invitation in your hand, hot tears burning your eyes. Every year, your family threw a lavish Life Day celebration to which they’d invite anyone they wanted to impress, or do business with, as well as the entire extended family and close personal friends. The event was scheduled so that the least important guests were asked to come midday, the more important ones towards evening, with family and friends ending the night together at whatever late hour they chose. This year, since you’d decided to strike out on your own, you’d been relegated to the midday crowd. You had been dreading this event, thinking you’d be obliged to go, but now you’ve changed your mind. If they don’t want you around, you’ll just stay away.

“Nax, have you ever celebrated Life Day?”

The clone shook his long hair back as he answered, “No. The Kamanoans would’ve seen that as a meaningless distraction and expense. Besides, what’s the use of celebrating something with life in its name when you were created to be droid fodder?” he continued darkly.

You frowned slightly, saddened by what Nax has suffered in his short, accelerated life. But then you shrugged. “Well, you’re not a soldier now. Wanna celebrate it with me this cycle?”

Nax stroked a hand through his gray-streaked beard, “Like how..?”

You shrugged again. “Like whatever we want.”

Myndi’s Cafe was closed on Life Day since it was an unofficial planet-wide celebration. Which left you and Nax free to sleep in. You woke up in his arms and snuggled closer, resting your head over his chest to listen to his solid heartbeat. You couldn’t think of a better way to start any day, especially this one.

“I’m looking forward to spending the day with you,” you murmured once you knew he was awake by the way he squeezed you softly to say good morning.

He chuckled. The sound of it rumbled under you as you lay against him. “We spend every day together.”

“Hmm.. lucky me,” you purred.

Nax reached a large, calloused hand to your cheek. You blinked up at his dark-eyed countenance. “I’m the lucky one,” he declared solemnly.

His hand moved to your nape, and you leaned forward, bracing yourself against his broad chest. You pressed your lips to his. Nax held you and kissed you softly. You thrilled at the feel of his lips on yours. You’d kissed him before, on the cheek or forehead, but this was so much better. You smiled and curled back into his chest.

“That’s my new favorite way to begin Life Day,” you declared.

Nax’s chuckle rumbled beneath your ear. “Is that a new tradition then?”

“I think it must be,” you sighed happily.

“Hmm.. then may I suggest we get our traditional cup of caf and sit on the traditional sofa?”

You snorted out a laugh. “Sure, Nax. Sounds perfect.”

He snuggled beneath a blanket with you as you sipped steaming cups of caf, watching reports about Life Day celebrations across the galaxy on the HoloNet News. You sighed contentedly. Not even all the glittering displays of lights and decorations in glamorous places you’d never go could compare to the simple pleasure of being with Nax.

But the peaceful moment was broken by a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Nax asked.

“No,” you said, standing and pulling your coat over your sleep clothes. You peek through the peephole. “It’s my cousin!”

You hit the control panel and the door swooshed open. You stepped back and let in Brenko and Corr, who wrestled a pine tree through the too-small doorway.

“What’s this?” you asked in amazement, looking from Brenko to Corr for an explanation.

“Well, you told me you didn’t have a tree for Life Day,” Brenko said, as if it should be obvious. “And we decided that was not okay.”

“Plus, I brought homemade puffcake and hot cider,” his husband added, going to the door to retrieve the box of pastries, a thermos, and a large cloth bag.

You smiled at him. “Well, you do make the best puffcake in the galaxy.”

“I do,” Corr affirmed with a broad grin. “Now, I believe you’ve yet to introduce me to your man.”

You blushed furiously at his phrasing.

Nax saved you from answering by stepping over to shake hands with Corr. “Nax,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Corr smiled. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Love the outfit,” Brenko snarked gently, propping the tree against the sofa.

You rolled your eyes at him, but then gave him a hug. “Thanks for this. It’s sweet of you. Intrusive and obnoxious, but sweet.”

He just laughed and hugged you back. “Anytime, dear cousin. You know you’re my favorite. I wasn’t about to let this day go without seeing you.”

“Kriff, guess I’m stuck with you,” you smiled, feeling like the day couldn’t possibly get any better.

But it did. Brenko, Corr, and Nax got along splendidly as you all decorated the tree with the bag of supplies your cousin had brought along. It wasn’t anything particularly fancy: just lights and some old home-made decorations from when you were children that Brenko had pulled out of storage. To you it was the most perfect Life Day tree ever.

When they left, both of them hugged you fiercely and whispered how much they would miss you at the family party later. Whether or not it was true, it did your heart good to hear it.

Nax began to gather the dirty cups and plates, and you watched his easy movements, heart warmed by how comfortable he was here with you. It reminded you, with a jolt, of the surprise you’d planned for him, and you slipped into the bedroom. 

You pulled out a box from the corner of the closet, and caught up Nax’s trooper helmet from where it sat on a table. Then you took it all into the other room and sat beneath the glowing Life Day tree. While Nax was busy in the kitchen, you started with the turquoise-accented helmet, centering it under the tree. Then you pulled a wide satin ribbon, also turquoise, from the box. You’d carefully lettered ‘Brothers fall but are never forgotten’ on the ribbon in Aurebesh. You draped it artfully over the helmet. Then you pulled out the little electric candles you’d bought, switched each of them on, and arranged them in a semi-circle around the helmet. Finally, you pulled the soft, gift-wrapped package from the box and set it beneath the tree branches to one side.

Stepping back to admire your work, you were joined by Nax, who had finished cleaning up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind as you leaned against his strong, broad chest. “Is this for me?” he asked, voice gruff with emotion.

You nodded and hugged his arms to you. “Life Day is for celebrating the people we love,” you said softly, “even if they’re not with us.”

Nax bent to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you for always thinking of me.”

You twisted in his arms, looking up into his dark brown eyes. “I really care about you, you know.”

Nax lifted a hand to your chin, and pulled you into a gentle kiss. One led to another, and you pressed against him hungrily as his hand slipped around to the back of your neck to thread through your hair. You pulled him close, holding onto his shoulders, returning his kisses with eager affection. Nax pulled back to brush his thumbs over your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. 

When you’d caught your breath, you said, “That’s not your only surprise, you know.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised slightly and his smile grew. “That so?”

Rather than answer, you smiled mysteriously and stepped backwards, tugging him along with you. You bent down, and lifted up the package you’d wrapped for him.

Nax’s eyes grew wide. “This is for me, pretty girl?” he asked.

“Of course, silly,” you grinned. “Who else? Open it up.”

He made quick work of the wrapping, tearing through it with ease. Then he unfolded a sweater. To the untrained eye, the design might look abstract. But it was made to resemble his armor, and Nax immediately recognized it. “My – my armor. You made this?”

You shook your head. “No, I had to commission it. I’m not good at that sort of thing. Do you like it?”

He crushed you to his chest, the sweater pressed between you. “I love it,” he said in your ear.

You gripped him tightly in return. “I’m glad.”

“I have something for you too,” he added.

“Really!” Your heart leapt. You hadn’t expected anything.

Nax smiled, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and then went into the kitchen. From a high cupboard you never used (because you couldn’t easily reach it), he pulled something wrapped in a towel. Looking sheepish, he handed it to you.

You took it with two hands, and pulled the towel away. It was a plate from Myndi’s Cafe – one of the chipped ones that were always thrown out. On it was painted the evening sky as the sunset faded into true night, and the stars were coming out. In the center were deep violet silhouettes of yourself and Nax, walking hand in hand. Tears pricked your eyes at the love and effort he’d put into the gift.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, voice hoarse with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Happy Life Day, pretty girl,” Nax said, lifting your chin with his hand.

You blinked away happy tears and replied, “Happy Life Day, Nax.”

He captured your lips in a warm kiss, and you melted into him.

Hope you enjoyed the story! (You can also find it on a03 here.)

Happy Holidays! 💚❤️💙

#LDE23 #star wars #obi wan kenobi series #clone trooper nax #daiyu #life day #strangers to lovers #fluff fluff fluff #clone troopers #f!reader #goblininawig

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 17

The Way the World Ends

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings and tags: angst; Cerra being an awkward bean; suspense; action, canon-typical violence.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The strike team departs for Balmorra; Riyo goes to space IKEA.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

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This is the way the world ends

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo didn’t sleep that night, plagued by anticipatory energy as he often was before a mission. Cerra wasn’t wrong: this extraction was riddled with uncertain variables that made it riskier than usual. He trusted his team, but he couldn’t help wishing that the Batch were there to back him up. Her rash accusation that he’d abandoned the Batch had struck home, causing him to second-guess his decision to leave. He knew the work he was doing with Rex was meaningful—that it was making a difference—but he could never quite shake the memory of Omega’s tearful eyes as she whimpered, “We need you, too.”

Cerra’s revelations about Fives had sent Echo reeling, and he was still processing the information. The doubts he’d harbored about Rex’s habit of withholding information from the team came roaring back to life as he questioned the captain’s decision to keep the full truth from him. Once again, he reflected on the openness and equality of the Batch’s communication. All of which added up to a jittery anxiety that made his stomach churn and his mind race. He volunteered to take the overnight watch, which gave him plenty of time and solitude to agonize over the reopened wound of Fives’s death.

Echo didn’t blame Gregor for needing space after his argument with Cerra, but the bleak expression in her eyes as she’d waited for hours for the commando’s return had been heartwrenching to witness. Echo had finally ordered her to go to bed so she’d be functional the next day. She’d pulled a face and reminded him that she technically outranked him, but she had obeyed regardless, grumbling under her breath as she sauntered to the barracks. By that point, Fireball and Nemec had long since returned from their errand, and had watched her with identical expressions of amusement—right up until Echo ordered them to go to bed, too.

“Drunk with power,” Nemec had declared, but he and Fireball had followed Cerra regardless.

Hours later, Echo rose to his feet with a sense of relief as he heard the speeder bike pull up outside the garage. Gregor entered through the side door, jerking his chin in a silent greeting to Echo. He headed straight to the refresher and took a shower, and by the time he reappeared, the rest of the team was awake. The commando stalked to the barracks, not looking at Cerra, who watched him silently from behind a mug of caf that must have been even worse than usual, based on her grimace as she sipped it.

When Gregor emerged from the barracks in full armor, he avoided her gaze and boarded the Remora without speaking a word. Fireball and Nemec sensed the tension, even without knowing what had caused it, and they said goodbye awkwardly. Echo gave Cerra’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I’ll bring him back,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

Echo gave her a small smile, and then followed the rest of the strike team up the ramp into the ship and into the cockpit. Gregor had already powered up the engines, and within minutes, he piloted the Remora out of Coruscant airspace.

The empty garage was deafeningly silent, with nothing to distract Cerra from thoughts that she would rather not have, such as where Gregor had spent the night, and why exactly she couldn’t breathe when she thought about the possibility that it had been in someone else’s bed. To occupy her hands, she began cleaning up the spectacular mess she and Echo had made working on the Remora. Trace would have been horrified to see the state of the shop, and though she and Rafa were unlikely to return to Coruscant any time soon, Cerra decided it would be wiser not to take the risk of the young mechanic witnessing the chaos they had wrought.

She had no idea how long the strike team would be away. Given the ship’s subpar hyperdrive, Echo had thought it wise to take the Remora to the Kuat system, which was much closer to Balmorra than Coruscant, where they would stand by for Rex’s contact to send the signal to attack. If they were on Coruscant when Howzer and his men were scheduled for transport, they would never arrive at Balmorra in time to intercept the ship. Unfortunately, since they had no way to narrow down the window, they could be gone for several days.

They also didn’t know how many men would be with Howzer, which meant that Cerra had a small problem. With the addition of Fireball and Nemec to Rex’s crew, they were running out of beds in the barracks. She would need to secure and install more bunks before the team returned unless they wanted to sleep in shifts. Between that project and her regular supply runs, she should have plenty of work to keep her busy until the clones returned and she could patch things up with Gregor.

The problem was that the bunks weren’t easy to steal—er, requisition. They were big and bulky and hard for a single person to transport. They also weren’t exactly regular merchandise handled by her normal contacts, but she didn’t have the funds to buy them through more reputable channels. After searching fruitlessly for options, she swallowed her pride and contacted Riyo. 

The senator was more than understanding—she actually seemed delighted to help in a material way, and within a few hours, Cerra heard a speeder pull up to the landing platform. She opened the garage bay doors and was surprised to see Riyo herself, along with a few of her guards, who quickly unloaded a pallet and carried it to the barracks. Cerra started to follow, but Riyo laid a soft hand on her shoulder.

“Please,” said the senator, “let us take care of this. It feels like we’re doing so little in comparison, and this is a way for us to contribute.”

Cerra was surprised, but acquiesced readily enough. As the guards went to work assembling and installing the bunks, Riyo turned to Cerra, a hesitant expression on her face. Cerra cast about for a way to make the senator feel welcome. Kriff, this was weird. Aside from that one time when Riyo had taken her into confidence about her relationship with Fox, they had really only interacted as part of the larger group.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” Cerra offered. “Caf, maybe?”

“Yes—” Riyo began, before quickly correcting herself. “No, thank you.”

Cerra laughed. “Gregor must have warned you about my cooking.”

A dark blue flush stained Riyo’s cheeks, but she smiled. “He may have said something. I didn’t think it could possibly be that bad.”

“Oh, no, it is,” Cerra said nonchalantly, leading the senator to the sofa and gesturing for her to have a seat, then flopping down at the opposite end. “I’m good at a lot of things, but cooking isn’t one of them. Thank kri—uh, thank the Maker for Gregor. Otherwise we’d all subsist on ration bars and burnt caf.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” Riyo observed.

“I was alone with Rex for months before Gregor joined us,” Cerra replied. “I still have indigestion when I think about it.”

“That sounds… awful, actually,” Riyo said.

Cerra shrugged. “Trust me, it was the least of our problems.”

“It was a dark time,” Riyo said quietly.

“For so many people,” Cerra agreed.

Riyo looked away, gazing down at her hands as she picked nervously at her cuticles. After a few moments, she took a deep breath, and looked at Cerra with soft, vulnerable eyes. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Cerra said uncertainly.

Riyo glanced toward the open barracks door, where the sound of the guards at work was plainly audible, then scooted closer to Cerra. “I know we aren’t close enough to justify this question, but I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”

Cerra held very still, holding her breath as she waited for the senator to continue. She ruthlessly tamped down the tiny spark of panic that started to rise in her chest, determined to hear the woman out despite her sudden impulse to fake a severe illness and hide in the refresher until the Pantoran contingent left the garage.

“I’m listening,” Cerra said with deceptive calm.

Riyo bit her lip softly before she spoke. “Do you think I’m moving on too soon? With Echo?”

Cerra blinked, taking a long moment to consider the question. This had decidedly not been one of the many possible scenarios her mind had concocted in the few seconds that had passed since Riyo posed her first question and unwittingly launched Cerra into a silent tailspin of dismay and apprehension.

Riyo misinterpreted her silence as offense. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just, you’re the only person I’ve told about Fox.”

Cerra was surprised to realize that she didn’t feel the sickening rage she’d so long associated with the commander’s name. Which was not to say that she was exactly thrilled to talk about him, but it also didn’t make her want to commandeer the freighter and disappear into the Unknown Regions.

She swallowed. “I never knew Fox, but from the way you’ve talked about him, it’s obvious that he loved you. I don’t think—” Her throat tightened abruptly, and she paused a moment to breathe carefully before she continued. “I don’t think a man who loved you like that would want you to mourn him forever. I—I think he would want you to—”

“Fives would want you to be happy.”  Echo’s voice whispered in her mind, and Cerra stuttered to a halt.

“Yes?” Riyo asked, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Cerra cleared her throat and spoke again. “I think—If you’ll pardon my language, senator, it’s a karked-up galaxy out there. None of us knows when we’re gonna eat it. And if you feel like you can find some scrap of happiness with Echo, I’d say you should take the chance while you can.”

Riyo gazed at her as the tears welling in her wide eyes finally spilled over and slid down her cheeks. Cerra hesitated for a moment before cautiously reaching out and draping her arm over the senator’s shoulders. Riyo, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She leaned against Cerra and took a deep, shuddering breath as she closed her eyes.

“S—sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

Cerra rubbed her hand between Riyo’s shoulders and stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on nothing, her thoughts a confusing jumble.

“No need to apologize,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, no matter how many times we tell ourselves something, we don’t really believe it until someone else says it, too.”

By the fourth day after the strike team left, Cerra was climbing the walls with boredom. She missed teasing Fireball, and sparring with Rex, and arguing about the Bake Off with Echo. But mostly, she missed Gregor. She barely slept the first few nights, tossing uncomfortably in her bed for hours, unable to slow the frantic pace of her mind. Eventually, she climbed into Gregor’s bunk, snuggling into his pillow and breathing in his familiar, comforting scent as she finally succumbed to exhaustion. 

By the fifth day, the garage was spotless and ruthlessly organized, and she turned her attention to the freighter, sending the droids inside to clean it while she performed routine service and restocked all its supplies. Even after she finished all the most minute and unnecessary repairs and maintenance tasks, only half the day had passed, and the hours stretched out endlessly.

On the sixth day, her comlink chirped, and she dived for it so fast she nearly face-planted on the plastcrete floor of the garage. As she turned it on, she ignored the tiny hint of disappointment as Rex—not Gregor—flickered into view.

“Hey, Cap,” she greeted him.

“Cerra, are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Nax contacted me,” he said. “I need someone to rendezvous with our intermediary on Daiyu. Can you do it?”

“I can take the freighter,” she said, “but that would leave the garage unguarded.”

Rex frowned. “I can ask Riyo if she can spare someone to keep an eye on it. Otherwise, we won’t have much choice. Nax is on a tight timeline.”

“Understood,” she said, heading toward the freighter. “I’m leaving now.”

“I’ll send you the details while you’re en route,” Rex said. “Watch your back out there.”

“Always. Cerra out.”

Rex had already transmitted the location and identity of the intermediary by the time Cerra cleared Coruscant’s traffic. It was a long hyperspace jump to Daiyu. Cerra had never visited the planet before, but she was aware of its seedy reputation. Anything went on Daiyu. It wasn’t quite as wretched a hive of scum and villainy as Nar Shadda, but it was still an excellent place to visit if your goal was to end up in a trafficker’s cargo hold or with a vibroblade in your gut. 

Stars, she wished Gregor were with her. This was far from her first solo mission, but she’d grown accustomed to his reassuring presence on riskier operations. She never felt safer than when he was beside her. He was one of the most competent warriors she had ever seen—possibly even more skilled than Rex. He was strong, brave, and resilient, but more than that, he was unfailingly kind, and he had been there for her during her darkest, lowest points. She hated herself for making him think that she saw him as anything less than the incredible man he was.

She had plenty of time to reflect on her many failures during the jump, and she couldn’t help wondering whether she had ever offered anything in return. Did she even have anything left to offer? She felt so broken, so hollow. How could she ever be worthy of his—of a friend like him? In the end, would she only drag him down into her quagmire of misery? When everything she touched turned to ash, how could she take that risk? 

But the alternative was unthinkable. To leave, to abandon the fight, went against everything in her nature. Perhaps it was time to find a new place in Rex’s network. She knew he had allies who were not clones. Maybe what she needed was a clean break, a fresh start, away from the constant, endless reminders of Fives. Far, far away from Gregor. She would run to the furthest reaches of Wild Space if it meant he would be safe. She would go anywhere, do anything. And if that meant she would have to spend the rest of her life with the yawning chasm of emptiness that opened in her chest at the thought of being without him—well, she could live with it if it meant he would live, too.

Daiyu’s miasmic pollution was visible even from space. A gray-green haze swirled through the planet’s atmosphere, nearly obscuring the lights of Daiyu City. Cerra piloted the freighter to a secluded dockyard on the outskirts of the city. She’d have a bit of a hike to the rendezvous point, but it was preferable to risking an encounter with the Empire at one of the larger spaceports.

Rex’s contact was a Rodian spice runner named Obik, and Cerra intended to hold that information over Rex’s head for the foreseeable future in revenge for the many, many times he’d complained about her less-than-savory network of contacts. Rex insisted Obik was trustworthy, though, and since nearly everyone on Daiyu was involved in the spice trade in some way, they didn’t have many options unless they were willing to get their hands a little dirty.

Cerra kept to the shadows as she traversed the city. She wore minimal armor and left her helmet in the freighter in an attempt to blend. Her drab, nondescript clothing faded into the dinginess, and she kept her hood up to conceal her face from the lurid glow of the countless neon signs and street lights. She walked with purpose, hoping that she didn’t present an easy enough mark to attract attention. The few individuals who thought it worthwhile to approach her shuffled away once they spotted the blasters strapped to her thighs or the flash of her plastoid chestplate beneath her cloak, and she made surprisingly good time.

Her pulse sped up as she approached the rendezvous point. She passed the entrance to the building, ducked down an alleyway, and doubled back once she was certain she hadn’t picked up a tail. The crumbling building was dark inside, and she drew her blaster as she made her way silently down the gloomy corridors. Trash and debris littered her path, and in the darkness, she caught the fleeting glint of light in the eyes of some small vermin that skittered and scratched through the walls. She arrived at a large warehouse and spotted the Rodian sitting on a crate, illuminated by a small fusion lantern. She glanced quickly around the space to confirm they were alone before she entered the warehouse.

“Obik?” she asked in a low voice. What the kriff was Rex’s passphrase? “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. It’s a long jump from Nar Shadda.”

He didn’t respond. Awareness prickled across her skin as she registered the unnatural angle of his head as it tilted on his neck.

Kark.

She spun on her heel and sprinted for the exit, slapping her commlink. Rex’s face flickered in front of her.

“What is it?” he asked tersely.

“We’ve been made,” she hissed. “Obik is dead.”

“Kriff,” Rex cursed. “Nax?”

“No sign of him,” she whispered.

“Get out of there,” Rex ordered.

“Copy—”

A blue light flashed, and searing pain hit her legs. She stumbled and went down, rolling as she landed. She tried to stand, but she couldn’t move her legs. 

“Cerra!” Rex exclaimed.

She heard the pounding of approaching footsteps, and she ripped off the commlink. 

“Sorry,” she panted. “I can’t risk them tracing you.”

“NO!” Rex shouted, but she smashed the commlink before he could finish, tossing the mangled scraps into the piles of refuse that lined the corridor.

She tried to drag herself away, her fingers clawing at the cracked and filthy plastcrete, but all too soon, a pair of improbably shiny boots entered her field of vision, and the footsteps came to a halt in front of her. She heard the hum of a blaster charging up, and then the world went black.

---

Next chapter

#tbb echo #captain rex #captain gregor #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #clone trooper nax #the bad batch #star wars #tbb fanfic #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #stars beyond number #Spotify

[enigmatist17]

I AM UNWELL

SCREEEEEEECH

This is from some upcoming book that's revealed a few pieces at SDCC and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Note I am 1000000000000000000% ignoring the accelerated aging it doesn't exist what do you mean

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

Nax never expected to see a Jetti again.

And certainly not General Kenobi.

General...heh, the word echoes with a lifetime of fighting side by side brothers and beings that wielded the very worldlike clay in the hands of a child. He remembers the day he left Kamino as a happy shiny, ready to fight for a Republic that had already rotted from within, with brothers that would never see the horror of Order -

No

Never again

"Help a veteran eat a warm meal?" The Jetti blinks, and Nax tries to ignore how the broken man looked like a tooka ready to dart off into the busy streets. He does toss some credits into his bucket, and Nax watches the former general slowly make his way through the streets, clearly looking for something or someone.

He's gone from his beggars spot in the blink of an eye, which for Nax was an achievement.

While physically he wasn't that old (well, so he thinks), a lifetime's worth of injuries did make Nax feel like his body was held together by the Gen 1 armor that never failed. Daiyu cloaked him from most eyes like the darkness from Umbara has he follows Obi-Wan, and naturally he goes to the fake Jetti who seems to point him to where he wants to go. The journey continues to a spice lab, and when the general goes inside, Nax hesitates to follow when an aura that filled him with dread began to pull over the city.

He doesn't have to look to see the Inquisitors.

Admittedly the bounty that rings out throughout the city doesn't help, but Nax slips his bucket on for the first time in ages. The money Kenobi had given him is tossed into the street when the general starts to become surrounded, giving the clone enough time to grab the small natborn up and into his arm while grabbing Kenobi and dragging him into the shadows. The girl struggles while Nax pulls them both deep into an alley, spewing an impressive amount of curses while Kenobi hurries after in tense silence.

He's not surprised at the blue blade that hovers an inch from his neck when he stops moving, and even the girl pauses with an awed gasp.

"I will not let you kill her." Kenobi sounds tired, and wavers when Nax slowly lowers the girl down and releases, watching as she darted to hide behind the Jetti.

"I'm trying to help." Nax slowly lifts his hands, and the blade vanishes when an announcement rings out.

THE CITY IS IN LOCKDOWN, NO SHIPS WILL BE ALLOWED TO DEPART

Kenobi sighs, and Nax slowly lowers his arms.

"The fake Jetti, I can get you to his ship." Both general and natborn look at him, and the veteran points further down the alley. "This service tunnel will get us mostly there, but we must hurry General."

"Why are you helping me?"

"You are a Jetti." The general scowls, and Nax pushes forward. "We were forced to kill, forced to do terrible things long enough for the Empire to rise. I - I never wanted to hurt anyone, never..."

He remembers the purge, and wants to vomit.

"I believe you...?"

"Nax, sir." Finally, a small smile is given his way.

"Lead on Nax."

So he does, leading the General and child through service tunnels while avoiding the hunting parties of Inquisitors and bounty hunters alike. The climb to the platform seems to last hours, and just when it seems like they can get on the cargo ship...she is waiting.

"Get her to safety trooper, now!" The command sends Nax into overdrive, and he scoops up the protesting child and runs to the ship. Once she promises to stay put, Nax pulls out the blaster he'd stolen on the way to get the two, and runs to help Obi-Wan.

Anakin Skywalker lives, although you know him as Darth Vader

Nax takes the moment Obi-Wan pauses in shock to open fire, catching the Inquisitor off-balance as he runs past Obi-Wan.

"Go! Get her out of here!" Nax keeps on firing as he hears the General run, and doesn't stop until he can hear the ship taking off.

He smiles underneath his bucket even as a red blade goes through his chest, and suddenly his hands stop firing as the world goes silent.

"I will find them clone, you only delayed the inevitable."

Nax falls to his knees as the Inquisitor stalks off, and manages to fumble his helmet off before he falls onto his back. Everything is growing so cold as he looks up at the stars twinkling over him, and he wonders if one of them in Obi-Wan's ship flying far far away.

The stars grow brighter the moment he finally stops breathing, and Nax can hear the voices of so many brothers who take him into their waiting arms.

Welcome home brother

#personal #star wars #clone wars #kenobi #clone trooper Nax #arc trooper nax #obi wan kenobi #leia organa #I made myself cry #ow

[clonebrainrot]

The clone from Kenobi now has a name and a backstory!

He is Nax and has served with the 501st from Christophisis to Umbara. He was eventually medically discharged.

What I find interesting is there was a character named Nax in the clone war’s novelization by Karen Travis so this is probably a reference to that.

We can now put a name to another clone to obsess over.

#the clone wars #Kenobi #kenobi show #obi wan kenobi #Star Wars #starwars #clone trooper #clone trooper Nax

[cgsketchbook]

Out now from DK, Lucasfilm's "Star Wars Dawn of Rebellion: The Visual Guide" takes a deep dive into the exciting era of the saga from order 66, through to the events leading up to the battle of Scarif, with plenty of content from Andor, Obi-Wan and Bad batch too - plus, there's a brand new cross section artwork from the amazing John R. Mullaney!

Very pleased with my cover design on this, and hope you like the styling for the spreads too - personally, I feel you can never have too much Rebel Orange in a Star Wars book!

#chris gould #cgsketchbook.com #star wars #book cover #book design #publishing design #spread design #cassian andor #obi wan kenobi #diego luna #ewan mcgregor #x wing #clone trooper nax #star wars clones #house organa #inquisitorius #ferrix #crimson dawn #tie fighter #jabba the hutt #john R Mullaney

[wantonlywindswept]

CC Batch Aurek: Abregado

one | two

this fought me so hard but HEY through the power of Maybe-Force-Maybe-Eldritch Shenanigans i have decided to improve the outcome of the 104th v the Malevolence.

not by a lot, but still.

---

Nax knew it wasn't his place to question his superior officers, but they seemed very worked up over something that was easily verified.

"--in the Abregado system when we lost contact--"

Nax stepped away from the communications room to pull up his comm, leaving the Council and the Chancellor to debate whether his brothers were worth rescuing. It was still early into second shift, which meant that most of first shift had probably only just made it to sleep, which mostly meant--

"I swear," Rex growled, "On Prime's fucking cock, if this isn't an emergency--"

"Commander Wolffe might be in trouble," Nax blurted, because Rex tended to keep his threats. "Can you, uh, check on him?"

Nobody really knew how the Aurek batch worked--including, apparently, Aurek themselves--and while the lack of tangible evidence drove Coric up the wall, it was already proven that they were somehow connected. 

Admittedly, the 'proof' came in the form of Rex getting incredibly drunk, predicting how his adopted batchers were feeling, and then comming them to prove it, so it was slightly suspect. But the only one he'd gotten wrong had been Commander Fox, who'd spent a good fifteen minutes threatening them with discipline and dismemberment for interrupting his work, which had only resulted in Rex grinning dopily at the holo.

There was a short pause on the other end of the call while Rex presumably did his mystical feely powers banthashit, but the sharp intake of air told Nax all he needed to know.

"General Koon called asking for reinforcements in the Abregado system," he reported without prompting as he heard the familiar sound of armor being hastily donned. "The comm was cut off, and we haven't been able to reestablish communications. They were after intel on that new Sep weapon."

"Then the survivors don't have long," Rex said grimly. His voice became clearer, shifting from a wrist comm to helmet speakers. "I'll go mobilize a squad; tell the General to meet me in the hangar."

"Yessir."

Nax cut the call and made his way back to the communications room. 

"--absence of distress beacons indicate that his fleet was--"

"Sirs," he interrupted, standing at sharp attention, "At least some of the 104th has survived. Captain Rex is currently assembling a rescue team in the hangar."

There was a brief moment of utter silence. Then:

"Rex," General Skywalker breathed. 

"Oh," General Kenobi said. He covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh, of course. I hadn't even thought about asking Cody."

"I'll lead some of the gunships over to the Abregado system to pick up the survivors," Skywalker announced, a new determined set to his shoulders. "Admiral Yularen will stay the course to keep watch on our supply lines, and we'll catch up as soon as we've retrieved the Wolfpack."

"I'm sorry," the Chancellor interjected, "But where is this intel coming from? Anakin, I know your heart is in the right place, but we cannot risk resources on the mere chance that there could be survivors."

"It's not just a chance," Skywalker said firmly. "Rex knows that at least Commander Wolffe is alive. And even if it's just him, any witnesses to how the weapon works would be worth it."

"You're basing this off the word of a clone?"

All five Jedi turned their attention to the Chancellor, radiating judgment. Nax smirked from behind the safety of his helmet.

"No offense intended to your Captain, of course," the Chancellor said hastily. "But, Councilors, you must see that this is an unwise decision--"

"No, Anakin has a point," General Kenobi interrupted, stroking his beard. "If Captain Rex says that Commander Wolffe is alive, that definitely means there are survivors out there."

"And how does the Captain know that?"

"It has to do with their batch," Kenobi explained. "They are a very unique group of clones--my own Commander Cody is part of it as well--"

Permission implicitly--if not expressly--given, Skywalker slapped the button to disconnect the call before he could be told otherwise, and immediately headed out of the comm room. 

"Snips, go with Rex, get the rescue team going ASAP. I'll follow you in the Twilight. Admiral Yularen, we have new orders..."

Nax watched them go, a tight knot of tension loosening in his chest. He pulled up his comm again.

"The Commander's on her way, sir," he reported. "You'll take the squad and depart ASAP; General Skywalker will catch up in his ship."

"Understood. We'll be underway as soon as Commander Tano gets here."

"Captain, if you can..."

Nax hesitated, the words sticking in his throat, because it was a stupid request, but--

"I'll do everything I can to find your batchmates," Rex promised gently, his voice losing its crisp edge. "If they're alive, we'll bring them home."

Nax exhaled shakily.

"Thank you, sir."

He didn't know if the Jedi always had their best interests at heart--and was almost positive that the Senate didn't--but Nax knew that he could always depend on his brothers. That they would look out for each other, even if no one else cared.

(Only thirty troopers made it out of the destruction. Only thirty, out of six hundred, remained of the 104th Battalion. 

But two of them were Sinker and Boost, and later, if Nax wept out of relief and selfish joy that at least they survived, he knew that his brothers understood.)

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #cc batch aurek #clone trooper nax #captain rex #i know next to nothing about nax aside from the fact he made me feel Emotions via backstory of the kenobi show #so now he gets batchmates. as a treat.

[imarvelatthestars]

alright Tai girlies (gn), we have more news on the Tai front

according to this article and the preview from the new visual guide, Tai does have a canon name and backstory! plus a new picture of him!!!!!

i won't be changing his story to match Nax (lmao who tf is that 😒), but I might make a nod to a leg injury or something. please don't worry!!

#tai #tai gate #clone trooper tai #clone trooper nax #daiyu veteran

[mwolf0epsilon]

🦾 A disability headcanon for anyone in the 501st

Canon and headcanon ideas welcome 😅

Headcanon Ask Game

You've given me a bit to think about Anon. So, here's what I could come up with:

Rex obviously has PTSD after everything he went through. I also headcanon him as having a weaker immune system due to coming into contact with the Blue Shadow Virus, as well as potentially developing cardiac issues later on in life due to getting sniped by a commando droid in Saleucami.

Nax would very likely also suffer from PTSD since he survived some of the worst battles the 501st ever faced (Christophsis, Teth and Umbara). He does canonically have shrapnel in his leg, so he likely has a pronounced limp (he'd probably needs a cane to get around more easily).

As a triple amputee, Echo is not only visibly disabled but I think he'd need mandatory mobility aids to give his body some rest once in a while. His missions with Clone Force 99 and Rex's clone rebellion are very intense and physically tasking, so a hoverchair is a must. I also think he's very likely deaf in at least one ear, so he needs an hearing aid (and probably gradually loses hearing in his one good ear later in life). Lastly on the physical disability list, there's the high possibility of him needing a colostomy bag. On the psychological list we have PTSD and autism (the former affects him more than the latter ever did, but occasionally he has disassociative episodes that can last hours if he's stressed enough to shut down)

Kix has severe PTSD and likely suffers from intense nightmares and disassociative episodes post stasis freezing.

Aside from the doom and gloom above, I have always had the headcanon that Dogma is autistic. Had we gotten to see him past the Umbara Arc I have no doubt he would have also had suffered from PTSD due to the events that unfolded.

#Ask Game #Headcanon Ask Game #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #clone trooper nax #clone trooper veteran #arc trooper echo #clone medic kix #clone trooper dogma #headcanons

[wild-karrde]

#Fandom Friday!!!!

@imarvelatthestars made my week with posting not only one but TWO new chapters of Tai-Saga.

Transience and Persistence are such a great read. You'll have fun with them.

OOOOOH! I haven't gotten around to this series just yet, but I do love how much research and consideration Di has put into this fic. I adore the thought of using New Zealand sign language for the Tuskens and the tidbits that tie into North African culture for Tatooine. Those type of Easter eggs are just really neat in my very humble opinion and show how much care goes into a fic! Thanks so much for recommending these, Caro!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #star wars #kenobi #clone trooper nax #clone trooper tai #tai x reader #tai x you #nax x reader #nax x you #clone veteran #obi-wan kenobi #kenobi series

[tup-ika-5385]

Fic Complete!

Chapter Summary:

Hardcase has been in a bit of a funk lately. After finally being released from medbay, he feels like he’s just treading water, only making himself more frustrated as the shoreline gets farther and farther away. What does recovery even look like for him?

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Jesse mused from his seat in the mess hall, scooting over to make room for Hardcase, who was stubbornly juggling both his food tray and his crutches with a determined frown on his face.

“More like the wrong bed entirely,” Hardcase grumbled before he could stop himself. His left arm was shaking with effort as he moved to set down his tray. A few drops of juice spilled before Jesse could intervene, but Hardcase had insisted on grabbing his food himself and gave him a warning look even as the drink sloshed threateningly when he put it down. He growled in frustration, using a few napkins to mop up the worst of it. 

Jesse blinked at his uncharacteristic response, eyeing him carefully. “You good, vod?”

Hardcase sighed, wincing internally. Even if he was in a bad mood, he shouldn’t take it out on his brothers. “Yeah, sorry Jess…”

It was Hardcase’s second night sleeping in the barracks, and to his unending frustration, his well-loved top-bunk wasn’t something he could get into by himself anymore. Jesse had been more than happy to swap bunks, but Hardcase couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness pooling in his stomach every time he tried to relax in the lower bunk. Recovery had been so painfully slow, and he’d known it would be, but so many big things had been changing recently. Was it too much to ask for this one thing to stay the same?

Using his good arm, he repositioned his bad arm on the table so it was holding his tray steady. His left hand was mostly recovered, and his elbow could bend by itself without too much trouble, but his shoulder was still stiff and weak in a way that made doing most things difficult. 

At least he could put on his blacks by himself now with minimal assistance from his vode, compression shirt only slightly impeding their fit now that most of his bandages had been removed. Patch had walked him through the steps a couple days ago: dressing his injured limb first, then pulling his shirt over his head, shoving his good hand through the sleeve, twisting it to fit, and hoping for the best. He’d managed to get about 2/3 of his armor on himself, and usually Dogma would help him with the rest, but he’d sensed Hardcase’s mood this morning and wisely thought better of it, meaning Hardcase was only partially kitted up at the moment. 

His armor was another point of contention, now that he was thinking about it. Fives and Jesse had done a great job preserving his armor, and had cleaned it as best they could after Umbara, but his new backplates and shoulder pad were as shiny as… well, a shiny. His arms still shook with fatigue if he held them up too long, which would inevitably ruin his usual meticulous armor patterns if he ever decided to fix them, but he hadn’t even been down to the firing range yet since his injury, so who knows if it’d ever be needed if he couldn’t ever fight again.

“So I was thinking of going to the training room later, if you wanted to join me,” Jesse offered with a carefully casual tone.

Hardcase gave a self-deprecating snort. “So you want me to sit and watch? No thanks.”

Jesse shook his head. “There’s weights and– and other exercises, you know. And if you brought the hoverchair, we could probably adjust the punching bag for you to go a few rounds. You look like you could stand to punch something, vod.”

Hardcase was silent for a moment, mulling it over in his head. He’d been itching to punch something for nearly a month now, but it would be just as frustrating to go and find that he couldn’t do anything. There were so many little tasks that he never used to think about, like putting on his socks or brushing his teeth that he now had to plan out to the smallest detail. And he tried– he tried to put on a brave face, but nothing was the same, and neither was he.

So he hesitated before finally responding, “I dunno… maybe.” 

Jesse gave him a half-smile, accepting his answer for now and pushing down a pang of concern for his brother. “Well, let me know when you decide. I’ve missed my workout buddy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Hardcase responded, returning the smile reluctantly.

_______________

Sitting in a circle in the too-quiet barracks, a couple of troopers from the rehab group busied themselves by playing a game of sabacc. Exempt from duty while they were still recovering, Hardcase and the other injured troopers were left with more free-time than they knew what to do with. 

Thankfully, a few of their brothers were off-duty at the moment, so Attie, Tup, and one of Sev’s batchmates had joined the group, even if Dogma wasn’t playing at the moment. It had been fun getting to know the other troopers recently. They’d had a couple assignments together, but Hardcase hadn’t really had a serious conversation with Nax or Attie before the past month. They had some pretty interesting stories of their time in the 501st. 

Sev was the one who had originally wheedled them into a game of sabacc, especially now that Patch had made Sev a little card-holder so he could play without too much difficulty. The shiny had a surprisingly good sabacc face, earning himself a sizable stash of sweets. Last round, he’d won with a sylop card and a positive and negative seven, canceling each other out for a winning hand. 

Presenting his cards with a grin, he gloated, “What can I say? Seven’s my lucky number.” Cackling, he raised his seven uninjured fingers for emphasis, earning an exasperated sigh from Nax, who had the worst luck of the group.

An atmosphere of easy camaraderie filled the barracks, only to be interrupted by a chirping timer. “Hardcase, time to take your meds.” Dogma said gruffly, barely bothering to look up from his datapad. Ever since being given his new posting, he’d been pretty absorbed in learning all he could. 

Hardcase groaned in annoyance before putting down his hand of cards and leaning over to grab his small container of muscle-relaxers and anti-inflammatories from his bunk. Dogma had already refilled his canteen earlier so he didn’t swallow them dry… again.

Distracted by the group’s lighthearted banter, Hardcase leaned back to grab the container with one hand. For a brief second, he forgot– he forgot that his left arm couldn’t support his weight, even while sitting, and he let out a strangled yelp as it buckled underneath him, quickly followed by a wave of sharp discomfort.

Upper body unbalanced and half-laying on his bad arm, Hardcase hissed in pain as he tried to reposition himself. He screwed his eyes shut and yelled, “Kriff!” 

Reaction half pain and half frustration, he banged his good hand on the floor, startling the group with his outburst. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of the bottles of meds spinning slowly across the floor, coming to a stop in front of Attie. 

“You okay, Hardcase? That looked like a pretty good fall.” Tup asked, concerned. He’d noticed Hardcase’s mood this morning too, but it had almost disappeared while they played sabacc, until now, that is.

“I’m fine!” He ground out stubbornly, struggling to get back up on his own. Dogma got up from his perch on a nearby bunk, offering him a hand, but Hardcase batted it away with a growl, insisting on getting back up on his own. Dogma looked briefly conflicted, but relented after another glare from Hardcase.

“There’s pain meds in here too if you need them,” Dogma offered slowly, trying to gauge Hardcase’s response.

“I don’t need pain-meds, and I’m not a kriffing invalid.” Hardcase shook his head, protesting even as he tried to steady his breathing from his half-fall. He tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on him as his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He hated feeling like this.

The group was silent for a long moment before Nax eventually spoke. 

“... the other day, I slipped in the fresher, completely wiped out. Attie had to drag my naked shebs back up onto the shower chair. It was slippery and embarrassing as kriff.” Nax offered gruffly, giving a half-smile to Attie, who was sitting next to him. “... ‘s okay to need help, and to have off-days.”

Attie responded by nudging him with his shoulder before looking back at Hardcase with understanding, knowing what it was to be broken and then learning to remake himself, even if their circumstances were very different.

Hardcase sighed, anger and self-recrimination fading. Nodding reluctantly, he muttered, “Feels like every day’s been an off-day, lately…”

This time Attie was the one to speak, reaching to hand Hardcase back his meds. “Some battles… they stay with you. Teth was like that. Umbara too.”

Hardcase looked up in surprise, taking the bottle from Attie. It was almost an unofficial rule that nobody talked about Teth, especially around Attie. So for Attie to bring it up himself was pretty significant.

He listened intently as the older trooper continued to speak. “We can’t change it, or stop it from changing us, but we can start to move on… just a little bit.”

Attie took a slow breath, lost in thought. Sometimes he’d think back to those times after Teth, even two years later, remembering “anniversaries” of times that he’d been really bad off. Now, he’d just sit back and marvel at how different he felt, compared to how he did then. Things got better; they really did, and they would for Hardcase too. 

Before he could stop himself, Hardcase found himself asking, “How do I do that?”

Attie gave him a half-smile before shrugging. “Honestly, a lot of it just takes time… but it doesn’t hurt to lean on your brothers, or let them drag your naked shebs off the shower floor, like Nax here.” He elbowed his brother in the ribs, prompting a good-natured grumble.

Hardcase huffed in amusement before sighing. He wasn’t known for his patience, and this whole recovery process had already taken much longer than he wanted it to. But when it came to his brothers, spending time with them and leaning on them for support, he knew how to do that. So he accepted Dogma’s help unscrewing the caps of his medications, giving Tup a grateful smile as he passed out the next round of cards. Thankfully, his vode had more patience than he did, and were willing to be there for him, no matter how long it took.

____________________

Peeking his head into the fresher, Tup finally located his missing batchmate. “There you are, Dogma! Come on, we’re going to miss first-meal!” 

He hadn’t seen much of his batchmate the past couple days, but he’d noticed that Dogma had been a little on-edge. He wasn’t sure if it was his new posting, or the General’s upcoming visit with the rehab group, but he’d been keeping a closer eye on Dogma, just in case.

“In a minute.” Dogma nodded without looking up from washing his hands, gaze laser-focused on the task.

“What are you doing?” Tup had been waiting for him the last ten minutes; usually Dogma left the fresher in less than three. 

“Washing my hands.” Dogma stated redundantly, reapplying soap for the second time since Tup came in.

“Well, I can see that. Why are you still doing it?”

Silence.

“Dogma?”

“… it helps.” 

“Helps what?” Tup's voice took on a concerned tone.

“I don’t know, it just does. Go on ahead, I’ll meet you there.”

Despite Dogma’s dismissal, Tup stayed in the doorway, watching as Dogma’s hands turned red from the hot water. His normally short fingernails were clipped practically down to the skin, but he still scrubbed underneath them like his life depended on it.

“Dogma, I think your hands are clean enough.” He spoke cautiously, like he’d spook his batchmate by calling him out on it.

Dogma’s breath hitched, and finally, he paused his scrubbing, muscles tight under his blacks. Tup took the opportunity to walk to the sink before shutting the faucet off with careful hands. 

Resting his hands on Dogma’s arms, above where he’d been washing them, Tup questioned his batchmate with a quiet tone. “Dogma?”

“… I can still feel it sometimes. Their blood on my hands. Y-Your blood; Krell’s blood…” Dogma’s voice was thready and his eyes refused to focus as Tup guided him to the flimsi dispenser to dry his hands.

Tup gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You never fired a shot at me, vod. My blood was never on your hands.”

Dogma’s voice shook. “B-But I could’ve—“

“And you didn’t, right? It took you some time, but you made the right decision… any blood spilt on Umbara was Krell’s doing and Krell’s alone.” Tup gave Dogma a wobbly smile, trying just as hard to convince himself of that fact, that the troopers he’d gunned down on Umbara weren’t their faults. 

When Dogma still looked unconvinced, Tup brought their foreheads together in a light tap. Tup continued, “Remember what Patch’s been saying? Thinking about doing something is different than actually doing it, especially if it’s something you never wanted to do in the first place. It’s like…” He thought for a moment before coming up with an example.

“It’s like…the other day, I wondered what my hair would look like if I dyed it mustard yellow, like that brother from the 212th with questionable hair decisions. That doesn’t mean my hair will instantly turn yellow, or that I’ll dye it that color in the future.” Tup made a face of disgust, expression exaggerated for comedic effect, earning a small huff of amusement from Dogma.

“Sometimes thoughts are just thoughts, vod. They don’t have to become anything more than that– n-not that your thoughts aren’t important to me though.” Backtracking slightly, Tup gave Dogma a sheepish smile. This conversation broached on a lot of topics that really weren’t his expertise, but understanding Dogma was something of a science itself, and Tup had been training in that since he was decanted.

Dogma, for his part, gave a slow exhale, attempting to calm his racing thoughts as he relaxed in Tup’s hold. He nodded at Tup’s statement and tried to accept it himself. “Y-You’re right… thanks, Tup.”

After a moment, he pulled away, looking down with a grimace to examine his hands, still red with irritation. Tup followed his gaze before making a noise and using one hand to nudge him towards the door. He kept his tone free of judgment as he herded his batchmate down the hall. “Let’s head down to medbay really quick. Should probably get that looked at, just in case.” 

Dogma frowned, but didn’t fight the gentle hand on his shoulder. Sighing reluctantly, he mumbled, “Lead the way.”

______________________

Hardcase grinned to himself from his seat in the rehab room as he listened to the General’s stories. Apparently there’d been a mission where a magnet attracted his metal prosthetic so strongly that it lifted him up off the ground.

That story had nothing on the time Commander Tano found out about the prosthetic. Apparently nobody had bothered to tell her that General Skywalker was missing an arm until a month later, when she woke up at 2 am to use the fresher and found him pulling one of his fingers off to make an adjustment. Her scream had even woken the Captain, Skywalker reported with a grin.

“Hah! I remember that one, sir! I swear between you and the Captain, she didn’t stop hearing about it for a tenday!” Hardcase laughed; he’d only been a shiny when that happened, but it wasn’t the kind of story you forgot.

Looking around the room, he was pleased to see that most of the other troopers had started to relax after the first few tense minutes of the Jedi walking in the door. The chairs were organized in a rough circle, and Hardcase had positioned himself right next to the General, with Patch on his other side. Given the timing of his injury, Hardcase had missed the worst of Umbara, and while he really didn’t need to be there for the prosthetic advice, he hoped his presence would help the more anxious troopers to relax around their General. After all, it wouldn’t be long before they were deployed again, and they’d have to learn to trust the Jedi again.

When he’d first arrived at today’s meeting, Dogma’s entire body had been rigid with nerves. He hadn’t even given a response to their daily check-in. But as he sat across the circle next to Nax, holding one of the stress balls that Patch had scattered around the room, Hardcase noted that he looked a little better than he had earlier, listening with interest instead of looking trapped in his seat.

So far, the General had told a couple stories to put the group at ease, and then gave some general advice on prosthetic maintenance. Apparently he was supposed to put lotion on his residual limb when he took it off at nights, but he forgot often enough that Captain Rex had taken to carrying extra in his pack when they went on campaigns. He’d also mentioned that some people noticed that they sweat more after an amputation, with their overall skin surface area decreasing, making it harder for them to stay cool. Hardcase had grimaced at that part, wondering if he’d have similar issues with his burns.

Finally, he opened the floor for questions, looking patiently around the room. There were a few moments of nervous silence before Sev asked, “So… do you put on your pants first, or your arm first when you get up in the morning, sir?”

A couple troopers groaned in exasperation, but he retorted, “It’s a serious question!”

Anakin chuckled before responding. “Usually I’ll put on my arm first, so it can help. I’ve tried it the other way around before, and it usually gets caught in my robes.”

Another trooper, a shiny, raised their hand to ask a question, biting his lip with nervousness. “Sir, is it– h-how did you get used to it? Living with a prosthetic arm instead of your own? I-I’ve tried to get used to it, but I still can’t– can’t look at it without feeling like I’m part clanker.” He curled in on himself a little, gaze turned away from the prosthetic arm in his lap.

The General’s tone softened as he answered, “For a while, I didn’t. I was really angry; angry at Dooku, angry at Obi-Wan, and at myself. I was restricted to either the temple or the Negotiator for nearly a month, between waiting for the swelling to go down and starting rehab myself. This was at the very beginning of the war; it felt wrong to just sit around or do flimsi-work while my master was out fighting battle droids.”

A couple troopers nodded in agreement, having felt much the same way for the past couple weeks. He continued. “Even after I got my prosthetic, I didn’t really get comfortable with it until after I accidentally short-circuited the thing. It was in the middle of a deployment, so I had to fix it myself if I wanted to get anything done. And once I got started, I… went a little overboard.” He gave a sheepish grin, removing his glove to show it off. Golden chrome and shiny servos greeted the troopers, looking distinctly Skywalker-esque. 

“My arm wasn’t going to grow back anytime soon; not even the Force could manage that. But I started finding ways to live with this one, make it my own.” He gave a reassuring nod to the trooper that had asked the question. 

“I also learned a lot of new ways to do things. Honestly, I probably supplement with the Force more often than most jedi, but if it means I can do maintenance on R2 without needing help every two minutes, I’ll take it. No need to make my life harder just because I’ve always done things a certain way.”

The group continued for about an hour longer than usual, asking questions and chatting as they became more comfortable with their commanding officer. Hardcase listened with half an ear, but he kept thinking about the General’s response and the idea of making his injuries, his disability, his own.

Two days later, Hardcase came into the barracks with a new tattoo, a krayt dragon sprawled across his back and snaking down his arm. He straightened with pride as Tup and Sev gushed over the new tattoo. He’d gotten some advice from the General about the tattoo’s placement and design, and he'd checked with Kix to make sure that it wouldn’t set back his recovery, but as he looked at himself in the mirror that night, he gave himself a confident grin. He always knew it was going to be a cool scar.

#clone troopers hardcase #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper nax #clone trooper attie #clone medic patch #clone trooper sev #not to be confused with clone commando sev #anakin skywalker #hardcase survives umbara but now has chronic pain #dogma has ocd #autistic dogma #hardcase has adhd #swtcw fic #swtcw fanfic #umbara aftermath #this fic took forever and I’m really proud that I was able to finish it #actually neurodivergent author #hard knocks ‘verse

[thecoffeelorian]

Nax is this fandom's tragedy, so where's the comedy movie to follow him...anybody want to Barbenheimer this for me, because I'm desperate...

#just star wars thoughts #star wars #clone trooper nax #barbenheimer #where is the comedy...? #18+ account #18+ to follow me