No Nuance If You Think Echo Had A "glow Down" Or Purposely Draw Him Without His Scomp Or Legs (excluding

no nuance if you think echo had a "glow down" or purposely draw him without his scomp or legs (excluding flashbacks) you're ableist as FUCK get off my blog

everyone shut the fuck up and look at my earrings

u are so sweet for listening thank u and good day

no the crosshair rings such a quirky coincidence, why do you ask?

HALLO :D

i do apologize that i didn't have a snippet out like i wanted but, compromise, here's the whole damn thing. i also switched some stuff around in ch2 for continuity reasons :3

i got very very busy with prepping for an art faire (if anyone knows where to get cheap high quality prints let a mf know PLSSS) and i was muy busy. but we're back. and echo's a sweet dork.

mando'a translations!

ke'pare - wait/hold on

ge'tal - red

vor'e - thanks

udesii - chill out/its okay

gender neutral pronouns, no y/n usage, only main descriptor im sticking to about the reader is that you're ginger. cus i am. sorry nerds.

-immediately follows the events of the preceding chapter-

You were fighting back a smile. You had no idea that some of the clones knew Mando’a, let alone that the Mandolorian-adoptee turned clone-donor Jango Fett was taught during his short time on your home planet. You wondered if it was something the Kaminoans decided or if they all went about teaching themselves in Jango’s honor. The idea of a bunch of clone soldiers sitting around a Mando’a children’s dictionary makes the smile stitching onto your face that much harder to fight.

“I’m sorry about Tech. He can be, ah, a lot.” Echo grimaced while swiveling around the copilot’s seat, presenting it to you.

You obliged, and sat down. “Oh he’s fine. There’s plenty of topics I could infodump about, just as annoyingly. I just have a bad habit of my thoughts becoming verbal.” You shook your head, soft auburn tresses flicking about. The lights from the cockpit glinted around the natural highlights of your hair, and it didn’t escape Echo’s gaze.

The man cleared his throat. “Still, I appreciate you being so accommodating of my brothers. Nat-borns don’t seem to get it, you know?”

You furrowed your brow and cocked your head slightly to the left, looking him in the eyes. While he didn’t physically shudder, you could see the slight panic pulse in his iris when you met his gaze.

“Where do you think clones get their camaraderie and brotherhood from?”

Echo shrugged. “Kaminoans, I presume?”

You barked a laugh. “Well, yes. Ke’pare, what did they tell you guys about Mandalore?”

“Not much. Jango was around for the first few years, but I rarely saw him. He didn’t seem to hold much emotion for the regs. He seemed to like the higher ups, but I didn’t become an ARC Trooper until I was shipped off that wet rock.” Echo finally slumped into his chair opposing you. As he spoke, he slowly relaxed into his seat, his hinges quietly scraping together as he moved. Once again his amber eyes met yours, a new twinkle seeming to arrive.

“You know more than you let on, ge’tal.” Echo said, narrowing his gaze.

He seemed to be sizing you up. Trying to parse out his next line of questioning. Truthfully, you were better at it than him. While his observation skills have been battle-tested, the ease in which you peppered questions at him showed years of practice he was simply unable to acquire. Outside of the occasional conversation at 79’s or a senator he was required to escort, Echo’s entire social sphere only extends to his brothers. You made him nervous. In a very good way.

You blushed at the newly acquired nickname. “I prefer to call it ‘not showing my full hand’, but I’ll slide a few cards your way since you seem cute.”

The back of Echo’s neck started to bloom a soft red. He rubbed a palm on his knee, mindlessly self soothing. “Seem? What, the gray skin and hollow cheeks not working their magic?” He joked, gesturing to each feature respectively with a pointed index finger.

“You seem to deflect compliments because you can’t believe them, so I was starting small.” You extended your own index finger and poked at his shoulder, annunciating the seem.

The now-scarlet tint of Echo’s neck began to creep towards his face. Eyes darting towards the floor, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He pressed his lips together for a moment. The only thing he got out was a weak “Vor’e.”

“Udesii. I came here, didn’t I?” Your face softened. Echo’s almost immediate vulnerability around you made your knees feel like jelly, and you were sending a silent prayer somewhere that you were both sitting down. “You’re not gonna scare me off, but you can’t immediately go cracking jokes just ‘cus I said you’re handsome.” You continued. Soft, yet firm. You weren’t allowing Echo to talk poorly of himself, even in jest.

Echo nodded, meeting your gaze once more. He looked off for a moment, seemingly in thought, before returning your gaze and asking softly: “How do you always know what to say?”

You let out one quick heh. “Since I found someone to give the words to.” You reply cheekily.

Echo smiled once more and dipped his head. “Walked into that one huh?”

You both smiled, and a comfortable silence began to envelope the two of you. Both of you were looking out on the horizon. The sky was a deep pink and purple haze, stippled with the indigo hues of the impending twilight. Echo was scanning the distance, as if anything alive would be out there, let alone a threat. You were content watching the 2 ½ clouds in the sky move millimeters at a time, but something told you to look at your companion. Gazing at him, your eyes slowly roved up his face. His jaw was set in a defined line, lightly gritted in concentration. His cheeks were hollow, but his cheekbones sat quite prominently, catching the light. This, juxtaposed with his deep set eyes, allowed the light to dance right at the forefront of his face. As if a candle was eye level with him, across the room.

“See anything cool?” You finally speak, hoping Echo didn’t catch you staring.

“Nah, perimeter check. I’m sure all I’ll see is bones and dirt but, old habits die hard.” He replied, not looking away. After a beat, he nodded, and seemingly relaxed the scrutinous gaze he had moments ago.

“Huh. So, what makes your squad different from the other clones, other than haircuts, tattoos, and builds?” You change the subject.

“Being experimental meant the Kaminoans could enhance certain characteristics. Wrecker’s strength, Tech’s smarts, Crosshair’s accuracy, and Hunter’s senses.” Echo spun his chair to face you and threw one leg over the other.

“Huh.” You think for a moment before replying. “So you think Hunter heard us approach?”

Echo nodded. “And I’m willing to bet he’s going to call me a serf for the next 3 rotations.”

You barked out a laugh before realizing his implication. A hand shot over your mouth and your eyes grew wide.

The man laughed. “Just be glad he’s not close enough to hear your heartbeat.”

“What CAN’T he hear?” You said, mildly exasperated. “How do you get any privacy?”

“He’s got noise canceling headphones but that’s mainly for his own sanity. Wrecker got them for him after his snoring kept him up for 3 days in a row.” You laughed at that, and Echo felt a twinge of pride before continuing. “He showed up in the cockpit one morning with his bandana over his nose and Omega had to ask him about his new fashion choices.”

You let out a series of giggles at that, holding your stomach slightly as you lean forward into it. If your eyes weren’t scrunched shut, you would’ve seen Echo’s face bloom in 4 different shades of pink. Every single part of him was committing this to memory. The way your eyes crinkled at the sides. The way your cheeks almost wanted to push your eyes out of their sockets. He never wanted this to end, the sounds of your joy echoing across the hold of the Marauder.

——————

Hours had passed, the sun well below the horizon by this hour. The sky was peppered with numerous constellations and star systems, the names of which always seeming to escape you. The deep blue sea of sky felt more vast than ever in your little perch aboard the Marauder.

You and Echo went back and forth, sharing tidbits from your respective lives up until this point. You learned about the Rishi Moon incident that gave Echo his ARC status, he learned about the Siege that gave way to your arrival here. He told you about the Domino Squad, you told him about your own clan’s untimely demise. Hours of stories shared back and forth, as if you were both once stationed on the same battlefield and then whisked away, only to be brought back together once more after all these years. But there was no mutual history to draw upon this familiarity from. The two of you just fell into a steady rhythm. One that you’d individually practiced and honed for years, like a song that was never intended for a duet, only for the two to sound identical.

“...And that’s where I learned Keldabe Handshakes are applicable as a neutralizing tactic across species.” You finished, explaining the first and only time a Shriek-Hawk has successfully taken you off guard.

“Charming.” A voice hissed, and then a pair of boots dropped to the ground with a soft thunk. “Echo, shouldn't you be putting your toys away? It’s late.” Crosshair slunked into the cockpit, seemingly from the shadows. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I must be a pretty expensive toy to trade for speeder brakes.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised you’ve never been with someone and lost track of time, Cross. That does tend to require social skills and, y’know, liking people?” Echo crossed his arms and stared his brother down.

“Well unless they’re taking your bunk, you should tell Tech someone’s joining him in the cockpit tonight. It’s too late to take them back now.” Crosshair seemed to spit the last part of the sentence, annoyed that someone else is in his space and bothering his brothers. While you understood hesitancy, you felt as if he reveled in his current position rather than proceeding with caution.

Echo turned to you and looked into your eyes softly. “It’s up to you.”

“I’m already cramping an already small ship. I can kick it up here with Tech for the night.” You said, smiling. While you very badly wanted to just crawl into Echo’s bunk with him, you weren’t doing that the first day. Plus, you don’t know how Echo feels about his personal space, or his sleeping positions, or if he prefers one side of the b—

“How touching.” Crosshair cut off your thoughts with the remark. He spun on his heel, and disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. Echo sneered at the doorway.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind sleeping up here. Like I said, Tech can be a lot sometimes.” Echo looked back at you, eyes full of worry.

“Tell you what, I’ll come get you if he’s being too much and we can switch, okay?” You compromise, getting the understanding that Echo’s going to worry either way.

“Deal.” Echo said firmly with a nod, and stands up. “For as much of a dick as he is, Crosshair’s right, it is rather late.” You nod and shrug slightly in agreement.

Echo turns to you and leans down. “Try and get some rest.” He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and borderline speeding out of the room.

When the door shuts automatically, you ghost your hand along your cheek, and an uncontrollable smile breaks across your face.

I think he likes me.

what was even the purpose of this shot? they really just want us to look at their *GUNSHOTS, people crying*

one thing about me you will NEVER catch my ass gatekeeping

ring x earrings

everyone shut the fuck up and look at my earrings

u are so sweet for listening thank u and good day

no the crosshair rings such a quirky coincidence, why do you ask?

hey what if i

that'd be so crazy right

ch 1 。・°°・

gender neutral pronouns, no use of y/n, clones know mando'a, crosshair doesn't turn, no beta we die like tech.

The sun had begun to slump lazily in the sky. Outcroppings of clouds blotted around it, allowing the rays to gleam down rather than the barrage of heat from early this morning. Hues of bronze and amber were slathered across the atmosphere, partly due to the dust in the air. Here past the city limits, one became acutely aware of the planet’s true climate. Roves of sand and limestone were all the eye would be met with for miles. Large, twisted succulents shot randomly out of the ground, their insides bitter and viscous with water from a long many cycles ago. The stubborn fauna was a mirror image of the people that inhabited this planet. Fierce and unyielding, hoarding what little resources are to be found, if only to assure survival for longer than tonight.

While the sun had dipped in severity, your emotions seemed to not get the memo. In fact, your heart was rattling your ribcage and wracking your nervous system. In a matter of hours you had your first customers in days, albeit shallow pocketed, and instead of doing the proper salesperson-like thing and talking Echo down to another product, you ran his pockets and asked him out.

And he said yes.

Well, not in those words. But it wasn’t a No. Or a Sure, why not. And that’s more than enough for you.

Unbeknownst to you, Echo was relying on the speeder handlebars in front of him to maintain his grip on reality.

Echo tried not to get his hopes up whenever he noticed wandering eyes on him in the past. He’d said it jokingly, but he wasn’t kidding when he’d said he was just happy you weren’t looking at him in disgust.

Or worse, someone to pity.

You hadn’t given him the sad eyes when you noticed his metal arm and scomp. You hadn’t given him the sad eyes when you noticed his gait on the way to the counter. Hell, you didn’t even make mention of the piece wrapping around his skull. He didn’t even have to ask.

And now you were wrapped around his back, pushing your weight into him as he ripped across the wastes. Your arms were slinked around his core, hands folded and your pinky ghosting across the tip of his navel. While Echo’s own hands on the speeder was his current tether to reality, the warmth of your hands was equally coaxing him back out. Coaxing him backwards to rest his shoulder blades on your chest, coaxing him to let go of the handlebars, coaxing him to close his eyes, savor the moment. But he doesn’t. The same steadfast, battle-tested resolve that made him an ARC Trooper, all of that resolve, is being called upon at this moment.

Echo flicked the gear shift forward and pressed his foot down evenly, eyes honing in on the gray dot of the Marauder coming into view on the horizon. You gripped tighter with the increase in speed, and Echo’s cheeks got warm. Omega tailed closely behind.

Earlier, before the three of you had broken the city limits, Echo gave you the rundown of his ragtag family.

Tech. Wrecker. Hunter. Crosshair.

You mentally listed the members of the Batch, trying your absolute best to commit them to memory. It’ll be a lot easier once you actually see them, trust me. Echo’s words rang through your head, a metaphysical balm to your mild-yet-steadfastly brewing social anxieties.

A loud, metallic groan roused you from your thoughts. The ramp of the Marauder began to descend, and an overwhelmingly large figure appeared at the lip of the ramp.

“9-1 odds, that's Wrecker?” You call out loudly, desperate to be heard over the speeder engine. Before Echo could respond, a surly, thickly accented voice cut through the air.

“What stray did you bring in from the rain this time, eh Echo?!”

“You would be correct.” Echo glances over his shoulder at you, before turning back and calling out to his brother. “Adoption is Hunter’s speciality. Is your chip acting up again?” Wrecker answered with a barking laugh, walking off the ramp that is now level with the planet’s surface.

Echo brought the bike to a rolling stop, the engine softly tut-tut-ing before being kicked off. Omega came up beside the two of you, parking respectively. Echo stepped off the bike and stuck his hand out for you, while Wrecker came over and swooped Omega off the bike and onto his shoulders. You coyly took his hand. “Still keeping up this smooth charade?” You chide, throwing your leg over the bike and pulling yourself up with his assistance.

“Charade? Now that’s just rude.” Echo stuck his nose up, fake indignantly.

You grin, leaning into the bit. “Oh my, how may I make up for this transgression Milord?”

Wrecker and Omega watched on with shit eating grins. Neither of them were going to be the ones to break the moment, nor were they going to be the ones to tell either of you about the matching blush the two of you were wearing.

“I’m sure I’ll find a remedy in time, fret not serf.” Echo smiled as he stuck his elbow out for you to take.

“Serf? I’ll have you know my father was a knight!” It was your turn to act fake indignant, huffing and whipping your head away from Echo. Both of you erupted into laughter at the shared moment, closing in on the ramp.

Unbeknownst to you, Hunter was in the hallway, up the ramp and around the corner, a soft smile stitching its way onto his face. He, like Wrecker and Omega, was deeply enthused about his brother’s stroke of luck with you. Hunter had heard the two of you before you’d arrived, his acute senses hearing the rumblings a few klicks away.

Hunter decided to make his presence known, slipping out of the shadows and into the main doorway.

“What’s this about me adopting someone else?” Hunter says, eyes casually shifting about the group, seeming to do a mental headcount.

“Well I’m terrible with a blaster, but I can sell exhaust pipes something fierce!” You reply sarcastically, and you offer your name and a handshake. Instead, the clone claps your forearm and shakes it once. You follow the motion, entirely through muscle memory, clapping his forearm with similar force. A soft smile sits on your face at the gesture, it was something you hadn’t done in a few cycles at this point.

“Hunter, though I’m sure Echo’s filled you in already.” He offers a pleasant smile, now more curious about the stranger aboard his ship.

“He’s only given me names.” You shrug. “But, I’ve run into two of you now, and it’s a 50/50 on whether or not your moniker’s obscenely obvious. So I think I’ll be okay.” You finish the statement with a soft, mildly forced laugh, hoping to make it as obvious as possible that you’re joking.

I just made sure Echo can kinda stand my presence, I can’t have his brother be the hard sell now.

Hunter nods and closes his eyes with a soft chuckle. “You got nothing to worry about, kid. None of us bite.”

“Except maybe Crosshair.” Three separate voices say at the same time.

Laughter erupts from the hallway and cockpit. From the gunner’s nest, a hissing grimace. Hunter beckoned Wrecker and Omega into the cockpit, nodding to you and Echo as he went. The aforementioned biter slunk his way down the ladder and towards the cockpit, casting nary a glance to the new person aboard the Marauder. A toothpick flew from in front of him, twirling in the air nonchalantly before sticking upright in a crack between the durasteel paneling of the floor. Your eyes honed in on it.

“He won’t actually bite you, but good luck getting more than three words that aren’t snarky outta the vod.” Echo spoke quietly and clasped a hand between your shoulder blades, noting your gaze. “I wouldn’t let him.” He said even quieter, barely above a hum.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Once again, Echo’s simple words are a balm for mental wounds he did not cause, and completely unintentionally. You relax your shoulders, and pull them in a circle.

“So, Tech’s left, right?”

Echo nodded, and gestured with his scomp for you to lead the way. You obliged, and went up the stairs. Through a small hallway filled with a myriad of colors and buttons, you led the two of you into the cockpit.

A somewhat larger space opened up, with similar durasteel walls peppered with buttons and lights. However bulletproof panes of glass took up a majority of the wall space, looking out at the expanse of the wastes. It made the desert look even more swallowing, seeing it from a slight elevation. Nothing else for miles and miles had the view you did right now. Something about Desert Fever slung its way through your brain, some whispers you had barely overheard from stallworkers about afflicted moisture farmers on the outskirts.

“Also colloquially known as desert mania, desert fever is usually characterized with bouts of irrational behaviors and depressive episodes, as a result of the absolute nothing around you. Some hypothesize it to be an amalgamation of chronic understimulation.” A tall clone materialized next to you from the pilot’s chair.

“That was supposed to be internal, my bad. I take it you’re Tech?” You say sheepishly, rubbing a hand on your neck as you extend the other, introducing yourself.

“You are correct. Pleasure.” He replies, holding his hand up softly as to say None for me, thanks in response to your hand out. You quickly pulled it back to your side, eyes flicking to Echo behind you for mild reassurance.

Getting the message, he cleared his throat. “Where’s everyone finding themselves tonight?”

“Hunter’s busying himself inventorying the supplies brought in, Crosshair is brooding on top of the ship, and Wrecker and Omega are outside testing her ability to detonate multiple delayed explosions.” Tech replied curtly, understanding Echo’s meaning instantly. “I will retire to the bunks if you need me. I have my holopad and charger. Kandosii, vod’ika.”

Echo’s fingers twitched at his thigh again as color shot up from his collar. “Thank you Tech!” He said, very abruptly. He politely spun you around and began to push you towards the copilot’s seat.

A part of Echo prayed you weren’t paying attention to Tech all that much.

A bigger part of him knew you understood every word thrown about.