Elliot Watching Me Catch Three Times My Body Weight In Fish Because I Spent All My Money On That Season’s

MAKE FANDOM CRINGE AGAIN!!!!!! REBLOG IF YOU THING FANDOM SHOULD BE CRINGE AGAIN!!!!!!

I mean selfship, bad art, bad writing, bad cosplay, weird theories and harmless headcanons, crossover ships, oc x canon, mary sue ocs, all of it. If it’s for your own personal entertainment it hurts NOBODY!!!

immediately read this post like anakin and ahsoka arguing about 3PO and because anakin would definitely refer to obi-wan as mom, much to his chagrin

shoutout to my brother for setting me up for this

so, in the final scene of tbb, hunter could be seen wearing a new bandana. it looks very weaven so i'd assume it was hand made. a gift, even.

now, omega is wearing something very closely matching the color of hunter's old bandana. so, i am now a firm believer that omega made hunter's current bandana and he just stopped wearing his old one so omega inherited (stole) it. to prove a point, i am attaching a few slides below

throws these at you and scampers away on all fours

bonus

whenever u post i am SAT but THIS ONE?????? ON THE FLOOR.

hmmm for bad batch requests,, could u maybe write abt fem reader teasing tech til he snaps?

Word count: 1,666 Pairing: fem!reader x Tech Summary: You love bugging Tech. He's not much of a fan - yet. gif credit: @dreamswithghosts Warnings: Not proof read at all a/n : I just love soft dom Tech so much oh my god.

Tech was meticulously reassembling a droid in a quiet corner of Cid’s parlor, a task he had taken on to earn some extra credits. The delicate parts spread around him demanded his full attention—until you walked in. He stiffened, a slight tension gripping his shoulders; he hadn't expected to see you, and part of him wished you hadn't noticed him. Your knack for derailing his concentration was uncanny.

Despite his best efforts to become invisible, you spotted him almost immediately and made your way over, your presence pulling his focus from the task at hand.

"You know, that’s the wrong servo," you commented casually, hovering just over his shoulder.

“It isn’t,” Tech replied curtly, without looking up from his work.

“Then it must be your spanner,” you teased, eyeing the tool in his hand.

That comment set Tech’s teeth on edge, and he tightened his grip on the spanner. “My spanner is perfectly functional,” he retorted, his tone sharper than usual.

Refocusing on his work Tech grumbled, “Am I to assume you have nothing better to do than give invalid - and might I add unwanted - advice?”

You laughed, a clear, ringing sound, and bumped him lightly with your hip. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “There’s nothing I enjoy more than making you second guess yourself.”

The proximity of your words and the audacity of your insinuation caused Tech to pause. He snapped his head to face you, meeting your gaze directly for the first time since you arrived. “I am not—” he began, hesitating under the intensity of your grin, which filled his entire field of vision.

Tech’s cheeks tinged with an uncharacteristic flush as he watched you smile broadly, clearly amused by his discomfort. Tech deflated at having fallen for your prodding.

Tech took a deep breath, adjusting his goggles as he prepared to still correct you, and huffed, “I do not second guess myself.”

You held his gaze until he broke eye contact with an unnerved glance away. Triumphantly patting his shoulder, you straightened out and said on an amused sigh, “Then I’m not trying hard enough.” Taking your win, you hip bumped him once more and sauntered off.

“I’ll see ya later, Goggles.”

Tech rolled his eyes as you left. That is, he watched the entirety of your walk to the bar until your hips dipped into a stool - then he rolled his eyes. Even after you were done with Cid and out the door, you had him distracted.

Your ‘later’ turned out to be the very next day when you dumped a droid head onto the table in front of him. It was a toss up to Tech as to whether the sound of your voice caused his stomach to drop or flip.

Shoulders slumped, Tech deadpanned up to you. “What do you want?”

“Fix it.” You said simply, lips twitching when you saw a flicker of frustration in Tech’s eyes.

Tech’s instinct was to grab the head for inspection, but the twitch of your lips kept his hands off. “I’ll require more information if I am to,” Tech lifted his fingers to quote you, “Fix it.”

Diverting your attention to your nails, you slid into the seat adjacent to him. “Well that’s the problem, Goggles.” With a pout and an exaggerated shrug you said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

Bit of a lie that was. While it was true you didn’t know what was wrong with it - you also snatched the head from the top of a scrap pile. It was also true you had nothing better to do than tease the technician.

The sharp gaze behind those goggles thrilled you. It felt like he was searing right through you when that dissecting look came over him. Sometimes, when you managed to push him far enough, you could see a muscle twitch in his jaw, a sign of his controlled irritation. There was something exhilarating about capturing his full, unadulterated attention—seeing him momentarily forget his gadgets and focus solely on you.

Tech didn’t break eye contact as he pushed the head towards you. Not budging, you smiled and slid a handful of credits his way. Tech conceded with grumbling but pulled the head back towards him, his fingers already itching to solve the puzzle it presented.

He’d not encountered your type of personality before. You seemed so intent on bothering him at times, other times you were strictly business with Cid. Were you interested in his work or just annoying him? Though your proven record of particularly unhelpful input led him to believe it wasn’t his work.

Still, he popped open the circuit board and set about his diagnostics. To his relief you were mostly silent outside of an occasional hum. Despite his tinkering, the reserve power wasn’t even accessible.

Waving an annoyed hand at the hunk of junk Tech asked, ““What even happened to this droid?”

You answered by leaning on your elbows and shrugging your shoulders with a hum of confusion. Annoyance pinched his features and forced your smile to the surface.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” He ground out

Your brows raised as your eyes fell to the droid between you. Sucking on a tooth, you took on a contemplative nod before clicking your tongue and tapping on the droid as if you finally remembered.

Finding Tech’s eyes, you said with a tone of obviousness, “That would be because I picked it out of the trash on the way here.”

Tech’s brows hit his hairline before quickly settling into annoyance. “You brought me trash to fix without any idea of what’s wrong with it?” he asked incredulously, his tone laced with disbelief rather than anger.

His patience was worn well beyond thin. Snatching your wrist from the droid, he held you firm and demanded to know, “What is your issue?”

You stopped breathing entirely and your teasing demeanor fell. The air seemed to shift the longer you didn’t answer.

“Oh, now you're silent?” Tech remarked dryly, his gaze fixed intently on you, trying to decipher the method behind what seemed to be madness.

He could feel your heartbeat thrumming through his fingers pressing into your wrist. Glancing at his hold on you, he counted your increasing heart rate before turning a suspicious look on you.

With cautious curiosity he asked, “Are you… excited by this?”

You cleared your throat, cheeks flaring when his fingers pressed a little harder for an answer. “It’s looking that way, isn’t it?” You finally croaked out.

Tech blinked , taken aback by the timid nature of your tone. He sat back, raking his eyes over you. You were still, breathing in shallow, controlled breaths, wide eyed and lips slightly parted. And so silent.

Slowly, Tech eased his grip on you, observing the way you melted at the relief - like you were finally allowed to relax. Quirking an eyebrow Tech snorted, “This is all it takes to make you behave?”

Your pride and composure quickly returned. His sudden forwardness had thrown you off, sure, but you’d not fall for it twice. Scoffing, you tried to pull out of his grasp, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Goggles.”

The pressure on your wrist tightened once more, ridding you of any regained composure and pulling a mewl from you.

Tech’s eyes were narrowed on you. “Stand up.” It didn’t take more than the firmness in his voice to put you on your feet.

As you stood, he tugged your wrist closer. His voice was steady and low as he said, “Come here.”

You only needed one step to shift over to him. Tech looked up at you, head tilting to the side as he considered you. Maintaining his hold on you, he pushed out of his seat to stand with you.

You’d somehow forgotten how much taller he was than you.

Tech’s head tilted to the other side and he twisted your arm, not to a painful angle but enough to bring you forward another obedient step. His eyes lit up at your immediate compliance.

He brought a hand to your chin, holding you in place as he mused, “I must’ve misheard you, could you repeat the last thing you said?” 

Resisting the urge to lean into his touch, you repeated with much less of your earlier confidence, “I said, don’t get a hold of yourself, Go-”

Tech angled down to your eye level, cutting you short.

Tech was playing this by ear. He’d not considered the option that your incessant interest sat with him. That paired with the fact that you were an entirely new scenario for him, this was a complete experiment for him. One that he was rapidly enjoying.

“Care to try that again?” He said drawled.

You took a short, inhale on a gasp, caving into his touch. Your eyelids drooped as you breathlessly said, “Tech.”

A light smile appeared on Tech as he eased out of your space and dropped your wrist. All that remained was his hold on your chin and even that was mostly sustained by you leaning into him.

“I rather like this side of you.” Tech hummed, committing this sight of you to memory. “I think I’d like to see just how amenable you are to instruction.”

“Oh, I think we’d both be surprised.” Your eyebrows pulled together like you were pleading for him to try.

Tech chuckled, “If I said ‘on your knees?’” He hadn’t even finished the sentence and he felt you start to give way.

His eyes went wide and he moved with you, catching you by the elbows.

You stood frozen together, half crouched and sharing a stunned expression until Tech broke the silence, “Perhaps we continue this… experiment in a more private setting?”

You nodded along with his suggestion. “Yes, please.”

Tech’s eyes twinkled at your response. He brought you both to full height again and eagerly added,  “Promptly, if that’s alright. I’d like to hear more of that from you.”

tags: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what

chat do we fw the depressed furries

Anyone who says the Star Wars fandom is dying has clearly never met a TBB/Clone girlie.

SURPRISE SHAWTYYY

secondest one shot ever. echo's been growing on me recently icl y'all.

Brake Check

gif credit :)

rating/cw: teen, irl swears/star wars swearing, vague mentions of drugs, canon violence

3.6k words, gender neutral pronouns, zero use of y/n

i might keep this one going if i think up anything else. may or may not be based on my experiences at my own gig.

reblogs are always appreciated :)

The sun shone fiercely over the city, baking the industrial landscape in amber and gold. It was the closest that the durasteel and brick would ever get to being a part of nature, and in a way, the old buildings seemed thankful. Thankful to be unmoving against the planet’s own turmoil. To stand straight, stiff, and unforgiving against the gales that whipped through the streets like wind tunnels.

You very much wish you could be a building right now.

Contrasting to your surroundings, you were very much bothered by the sun in your eyes and wind in your hair. You squinted and kept a hand over your eyes as you puttered through the streets, gauging movement and distance by the tiled stonework on the ground. Your hair whipped at the corners of your face, always just out of reach when you went to swipe them away, giving way to a mood that the sun beating down on your neck was not helping.

Just a few more paces, a lock, and an alarm. You thought to yourself, mentally calibrating for the tasks following.

You were opening your store. At least, that’s what you’d tell anyone if they bothered asking. In reality, you were opening a store you were hired to manage. You were hired as a friendly, trustworthy face that was more or less just responsible for making sure nothing got stolen. The real owner, on the other hand, rarely could bother to make an appearance. So, by all customer accounts, it’s your store. The thought of this brought warmth to your chest.

Pride, albeit in fake ownership, but pride in your work nonetheless.

You found yourself at the front of the store. Large, ornate marble slabs stacked up to the door. Marble steps that were once a hallmark of the city, that dotted every home, now lay cracked, chipped, and closer to oyster gray than marble white.

You trudged to the front glass door. Opening it with a whine, the door found purchase on your hip as you flipped the plastic door sign to “Open”. You glance over at the keypad, and punch in your door code - 0501.

Immediately upon stepping into the small, darkened room, you’re greeted with shrill chirps. The piercing tones shot through the still air and bounced off the walls.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m coming.” You gripe, talking to the ancient security system that by no means would actually respond. You walk towards the corner of the small shop, eyeing a white panel with a dimly lit green screen. You grimace as you punch in your security code, trying not to become overstimulated by the alarm.

“Disarmed. Ready to arm.” A feminine robotic voice declares, and you hum in content as you turn around and begin to open up your store.

Flip those lights, plug that in, unlock the window guard, count the cash.

The mental list flashed through your mind, though it was almost immediately pushed out by a myriad of other thoughts. Your mind was abuzz, just like any other day. You glanced around at the small, cramped storefront. Your eyes raked the shelves, not looking for anything in particular, simply cataloging with your eyes. Your store sold mainly spaceship parts, among other things; though judging by the dust collecting on the deflector shield projectors, you’d almost be led to believe that no one on the planet had even scraped the sky.

You rounded a counter to make way to the register. The counter was an upside down L-shape, clear glass panes encasing a durasteel frame with sliding doors on the seller side. A smaller, similar-yet-straight case sat parallel on the right, making a perfect little square entrance for you to swing around. Such large display pieces seemed comically out of place in the small store front, as they essentially divided the room in half. Inside, the three rows that spanned the length of each side of the L were cluttered. Cluttered with trinkets that toppled over one another, as well as a handful of dubiously legal recreational products and their respective accessories. Those, along with the cigarettes in cartons behind you, were probably the only reason the lights above you were even on, albeit flickering occasionally and making a rather unfortunate buzz. You shook your head, and unlocked the small, dingy cash register in front of you.

Methodically counting cash, your eyes wandered to the bay window at the front of the store. Outside of it laid sun-bleached stone streets, with few inhabitants venturing out this early in the morning. Those that did, moved sluggishly from the heat or in a feeble attempt to resist it. Most of them looked familiar, usually having come in and bought something in the past. Or the odd few who follow a stricter morning routine than you do, seeing them stroll by every morning since you’d arrived however many cycles ago.

Same old, same old, huh? You thought to yourself. Monotony creeps up on the best of us, I suppose. You silently laugh to yourself, a quick huff of air leaving your nose.

As if the universe was listening in on your internal monologue, a speeder comes careening down the block, the engine body screaming as the bike chewed through the brake disks like meringue. Atop this banshee was a young girl, cream blonde hair whipping behind her as she screamed with delight. You had hoped it was delight at least, though you’d never heard someone giggling with fear. Immediately following her was another speeder, albeit in much less disarray and in much more control. The pilot was a tall, slender, pale man with some form of plating on his head, covering his ears.

“Omega, you HAVE to brake before you turn, you can’t just hit every corner like Tech does!” The man called out, though it was muffled from the glass.

You placed the cash back in the register and paced towards the door. Curiosity was your main driving factor, although if something happened to a child and you didn’t do anything… Well, you were sure your brain wouldn’t let you live it down.

You cracked the large door and peered out through the smaller glass door in front of it. You breathed out in relief, not realizing you were holding it in, as you saw the girl almost entirely unharmed.

“Echo, I’m fine! Plus, you said it yourself before we grabbed them that they looked like ‘hunks of junk’.” The girl made air quotes at her companion to emphasize her point. He, presumably named Echo, sighs in response, barely audible through the door but recognizable by the way his shoulders slumped. You couldn’t see it, as his back was to you, but the clone took his one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Wait, one hand?

You had seen your fair share of clones, both on your home planet and where you now found yourself. However, with his back to you, and with your eyes zeroing in on his scomp, you were none the wiser of the man outside your shop’s origins, other than his name probably being Echo.

The girl, which you assumed was named Omega, noticed you standing in your doorway.

“Maybe we can ask them for help” She spoke aloud, looking past her companion to look directly at you. You respond in part by opening the door and poking your head out.

“So, you crash in front of stores often?” You call out to the girl, smiling softly. Her companion turns around at the sound of your voice.

Hello there.

The man, now recognizable to you as a clone, was much more muscular than you had anticipated. With broad shoulders causing his pauldrons to peek out just a hair more. His hair was a buzz cut, the deep blue-black hue of his just-barely-there hair contrasting against his pale skin.

He waved his hand at you.

“I’m trying to not let her make it a habit but someone was recently taught what drifting was. Do you happen to sell speeder parts?” He punctuated his statement with a playful jab to the girl’s ribs, which elicited a giggle.

“As long as you don’t mind wiping dust off of them, I’m sure I can find something for y’all.” You replied, and you stepped out on the porch to open the door and let the two in. They quickly followed suit and headed towards you.

“I’m Omega by the way, and this is my big brother Echo.” The girl chirped as she walked by.

You smiled and gave your name in response. “Pleasure, it’s been a while since I’ve had real customers”.

“What’s a real customer?” She said, spinning around to look back at you once she filed into the small room.

“Someone actually buying parts, instead of what’s in the case.” You reply, as you turn your back and begin parsing the shelves for speeder brake parts. Immediately you regret this decision.

“What’s in the case?” Omega piped, and before you can turn around her face is pressed to the glass, memorizing its contents.

“Oh!—Uh, adult stuff, Omega. You really shouldn’t worry about it.” You said sheepishly, and you began to walk over to try and find something else for her to look at, but before you could Echo interjects.

“They’re right Omega, you have no business with this kind of stuff. Let’s just focus on the parts we need so we can get back to the ship before too long” He says, before clasping her on the back. She huffs, but obliges and stands up.

“So I have the parts you’re looking for, however the brakes come as a complete set. So you may end up with extras if you didn’t break the entire thing.” You explain, and waggle a box in the air.

“Judging by the sound when we came in, I’d imagine we’ll probably use the whole kit. I hope we don’t scare off too much foot traffic with the repairs.” Echo quipped, accompanied by a soft smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the man was flirting with you.

“Foot traffic?” You fake gawk. “Ain’t from ‘round here huh?”

Echo chuckles, and his eyes shone a little bit lighter. The bright honey-brown was rather stark against his skin, making it even more difficult not to get lost in them. The normally-dull blue hue of the overhead plasma lights made them pop out a bit more now that you were inside.

“Well, in any case, we’ll be out front for a bit. Appreciate the help.” Echo nodded and began to take his leave with Omega in tow.

“Last I checked the sign out front didn’t say charity.” You spoke, holding back a laugh with your teeth on your bottom lip.

Echo stopped dead in his tracks, and paused for a moment to reflect on what you meant. He sighed when it finally dawned on him.

“My apologies. Omega, take this out front and start taking the speeder apart while I pay for this.” He handed the box to the girl, and she skipped out the door.

Echo walked up to the counter, albeit awkwardly. Like his hips were too heavy. That’s when you noticed his legs. Or rather lack thereof.

“The heat and humidity makes my joints lock up sometimes.” He stated, noting your staring. Your eyes went wide.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I had only noticed your scomp earlier when we were outside.” You said quickly, trying to alleviate any awkwardness. You had just met the man, you weren’t trying to immediately make a handsome stranger hate you.

“It’s nothing new for me, though I did appreciate the lack of disgust in your face” He joked, self-deprecatingly.

Your eyebrows shot up, a mixture of quizzical and confused. “Everyone in the galaxy has or knows someone with augmentation at this point. What makes yours so gross?” You replied, emphasizing ‘gross’ with a sarcastic voice.

The man shrugged. “Most clones don’t look like me.”

You nodded. “Not exactly a GAR approved clone preset, I gather?”

“Sort of, I guess? I got placed with an experimental clone unit during the war, seeing as how I didn't fit in with the regs anymore.” He responded, now talking with his hands and relaxing his posture. You typed in the total for the engine kit into the register.

“Regs?” You ask, not looking up, but still very much invested in the conversation.

“Regular clones. The ‘approved presets’ as you called them. My unit is nothing of the sort, so I saddled up with them.” He replied with ease, while fishing into one of his waist bags for his credit pouch.

“I see. Well, your total’s gonna be 635 credits.” You chirp, looking up at Echo’s face, only to watch it drop.

“Six thirty five?” He half whispered, somehow going a shade paler. He had about 350 credits left in his pouch after the sorely needed supply run. However, if he couldn't fix the speeder, it wouldn’t matter.

Sensing his trepidation, and also using the moment to steal a few glances at how his biceps push against his armor with his arms crossed, you got an idea.

“Tell you what. Give me what you got, and I’ll smooth over the rest if you take me to dinner” You said in a joking tone, testing the waters.

Echo’s ears tinged pink and his cheeks warmed up at the thought. He pretended not to notice the way you sized him up when you met a few moments ago, but something about your attention on him at that moment made his stomach trip over itself. That feeling piqued his curiosity, but his response was laced with trepidation.

“I honestly don’t even know where we’d go. I’ve never been planetside here, and I’m sure you don’t want to eat the ration bars let alone smell what’s on the ship”

You shrugged. “Beats the stale air here. Plus for as many parts as I carry, I’ve never actually been on a ship.” You felt rather sheepish at your white lie, your eyes scanning the floor.

“The Marauder it is. What time were you thinking?” Echo asked. You couldn’t see it, but his fingers were twitching against his thigh, and the back of his neck was bright red. He hadn’t been on a date since he was still with the 501st, and even then it was usually a random one-off with someone he met at 79’s. By then the alcohol would be long gone and he would realize he’d spent the previous night with someone with bantha-shit for brains.

“Honestly? I could help you with repairs and we could head out. Not like I’d be missing out on any money.” You reply coolly, trying your best to have a ‘we can do whatever’ attitude as you leaned your weight onto one hip and cocked your head.

Inside, you were having ironically the same conundrum as Echo. You hadn’t been on a date in Force knows how long, your work clothes weren’t exactly date material, and holy kriff how did that actually work? You said it on a whim, ready to laugh it off to him and sob into your pillow about it later. Your brain had finally caught up to what you were up to, who you were now going on a date with, what you were doing, how you got there, and how his kid little sister wrecking outside your store was the best thing that could’ve happened.

“Are you gonna help me put this bike back together or are you two gonna flirt all day?!” A shrill voice called from outside.

Right, Omega, kriff.

Both you and Echo flinch and sigh at the sound of her voice. The temperature in the room also seemed to rise a few degrees, even if only for the two of you. You sigh, grabbing the credits Echo left on the counter and lock up the register. You make your way around the counter, and join him as he makes his way towards the door.

Once again faced with his back, your eyes wander down to where his hips meet his metal lower half. Somehow, his blacks tuck neatly into them, or maybe they’re clipped somewhere, you don’t know. You stifle a small laugh at the thought.

As you make your way outside, the thought crosses your mind of Echo’s legs having built in shirt fasteners. Then, before you can stop yourself, you let out a giggle at the thought of Echo having garters for his blacks underneath the armor and over his robotic legs.

Echo turns around at the sound. His eyebrow is raised quizzically, but his eyes betray him. He looks a little sad, worried that you’re laughing at him or Omega or their situation.

Noticing his composure change, you are now forced to have your queries answered.

“How do your blacks stay on if you don’t have them on your lower half? I thought it was like a jumpsuit?”

Echo was bewildered at the question. He cocked his head, and then settled on a response.

“They just .. fit? Like the shirt sits where it’s, supposed to? And it doesn’t move.” He shrugged, never having put much thought into it. “What about that made you laugh?”

“I imagined you having little garters or fasteners on the legs underneath.” You quietly replied, looking at the ground, mildly embarrassed.

Now it was Echo’s turn to laugh. His nose crinkled and he squeezed his eyes shut, and you made a mental note of the sound that came out of the sweet man’s mouth.

“Very funny. Echo can you please put this brake back on?” Omega piped up, exasperated. She loved her brother dearly and was very amused to see him interacting with you in such a manner, however she didn’t anticipate this would require her soloing her speeder rebuild.

“Sorry kiddo, I got you.” Echo crouched down and rested his hands on his knees, surveying what work Omega had done in his leave. She had actually finished about ¾ of the work, and Echo made a mental note to thank Tech profusely for his tutelage when they got back to the ship.

While he made quick work of what was left of the speeder, Omega busied herself with getting to know you. She plopped herself on your front stoop, and materialized some Mantell Mix from inside her jacket pocket. She threw a handful in her mouth, but before proceeding to chew she primed you with one of soon to be dozens of questions.

“Why’d you set up shop here?”

You frowned slightly, as there was no fun answer to this question. The Siege drove everyone off of Mandalore, if they survived. This planet just happened to be in the same section of The Rim and was taking refugees. Setting up a shop was never in the cards on your home world, but despite your utter lack of knowledge of retail, you relished the opportunity to do something different. Start completely anew. Though a part of you balked at sharing your past, this young girl seemed wiser than she let on and you enjoyed actually talking to someone outside of the usual “How are you” “Good, thanks” “Your total’s 45 credits” “Have a good day”. So, against your better judgment, you indulged her.

“Well, Mandalore doesn’t really exist, at least in its full capacity,” You sucked in your teeth. “And I didn’t trust that old Coruscanti freighter to leave the star system. Plus, the owner of the place doesn't like people too much and would rather just collect a paycheck.” You shrugged.

Upon mention of Mandalore, a thunk came from the speeder. Not loud enough to draw your attention over, thank Force, but enough to be heard. It was Echo dropping a tool. While Kamino wasn’t as much of a home to him as he imagined you would regard Mandalore, it was a similar weighty feeling. If all else failed, there was nowhere for either of you to go. There was no home. Sure, The Marauder and your little studio apartment were where the two of you resided, but that’s not where you’re from. Plus, it’s kind of difficult to compare a ship and a box room barely bigger than the storefront to an entire planet.

“This isn’t your store?” Omega replied, sensing it easier to focus on the latter half of your statement. You shook your head.

“For all intents and purposes, it’s mine. I run the day to day, order the products, harass people to actually get it delivered, everyone knows it’s me who runs it. But I don’t own it, no.”

Omega nodded in understanding, and was immediately buried in thought. Her dark brows knitted together as her brain formulated questions faster than she could ask. She nodded once more, seeming to have landed on a fitting one. But before she could ask, Echo piped up.

“The brakes are fixed up. We should be able to head back to the ship” Echo began to get up, but before he turned around he shot a question that you were dreading. Well, more of a statement.

“I thought you said you’ve never been on a ship?”

You gawked at him and then trained your eyes to the ground, suddenly very interested in the species of weeds that had taken hold in the cracks of the ground. You didn’t have any good excuses, and you’d already been caught in one lie.

“Got you to say ‘yes’ to the date, didn’t it?” You muttered weakly, knowing that this could very well end in him cursing you out and leaving you to your lonely little shop.

Echo sighed. He didn’t like lying, but the reason for it warmed his cheeks. He realized you just wanted an ‘in’. To hang out with him, of all people. He wasn’t used to someone, anyone, making that kind of effort to spend time with him.

“It did, though I’d have probably said yes otherwise.” It was his turn to reply coolly and pretend that his heart’s not in his throat for even uttering the words. He coughs in a feeble attempt to clear it. “Either way, are you two ready?”

You nodded and looked at Omega, who responded by excitedly getting up and hopping on her speeder. Echo walked a few feet, and grabbed his own by the handlebars. Before you could ask who you were riding with, he re-parked the bike in front of where you were standing so you could easily step off of the curb and onto the back.

“When’d you get smooth?” You chide, grabbing Echo’s shoulder for leverage as you kicked your leg over the side. Your feet found purchase above the altitude controls, gripping the cargo compartment with your legs to maintain balance. You brought your hands down and let them rest in your lap as Echo kicked over the ignition.

“Since I found a reason to be smooth.”

cxntyyyy