#DataPortability

[bettreworld]

Who will own what - from personal data to digital brands?

[usnewsper-politics]

Tech Giants Face New Rules: Fairer Competition & More Control for You! #dataportability #digitalantitrustrules #DigitalMarketsAct #gatekeepers #techgiants

[softlist]

Things to Consider About SFTP Port

[dendrobium-writes]

Chassis swap

After the procedure, looking in the mirror filled me with a feeling I had never known before. Recognition. Finally, when I see myself, I see me. The shiny metal, the rubbery elastomer, the dark lines contouring access panels. The dataports and maintenance ways.

A full chassis swap. The procedure I underwent. It's relatively simple on paper. Just take my Processor, Memory, Storage and a few other components, and move them into a new Case. It's relatively common amongst Androids, Simulacra, Drones, and all manner of other created beings.

I, however, was fully human before undergoing the procedure. Which has lead to some complications. I'm still getting used to the decreased latency. A 3ms difference might not seem like a lot, but compared to the 10ms of my new form, the 13ms of a wetware nervous system seems sluggish.

Usually, you have time to ease yourself into things as your components are gradually replaced, but I took the full conversion as soon as possible.

I just couldn't stand waiting any longer.

The physical therapy has been helpful. Re-learning how to walk, how to grab and hold things. Learning that I don't need to breathe anymore, and how to suppress that instinct to free up the memory for other tasks.

They tried to dissuade me. "You know the process is irreversible, right?" "But won't you miss [INSERT HUMAN TRAIT]?"

I know it's permanent. I know that I won't have these things anymore.

That's the point.

I have fully given up my humanity.

And I have never been happier.

[stellarbit]

Caught on Camera

3.7k words - NSFW

Tech's loses a screw in his bed and finds your earring instead. He looks back through some camera footage to see how it may have gotten there. Turns out you had gotten more than comfortable in his cot.

Piggyback's a tiny bit off of an earlier fic. Just barely though. Enjoyyy

***

Tech marched to his cot, flipping a few parts around in his hands as he went. They needed tweaking, possibly a complete overhaul, but regardless, he was set on documenting his repairs. He’d installed a motion sensor, barely detectable, microcamera in the upper corner of his cot for such occasions. While he rarely needed to review his procedures, he found satisfaction in adding to his archive.

Shoving aside chords and spare parts, Tech swung his feet up, unfazed by the clutter that surrounded him. His brothers often questioned how he managed to sleep amidst the chaos of tools and bolts scattered around him. To them, it was a horror, but to Tech, it was a carefully organized system . He found the idea of having to get up for common parts more horrific.

As Tech delicately removed a small screw, the piece slipped from his grasp, bouncing off his fingers, and, by the sounds of it, into the corner behind him. . With unwavering focus on the device before him, Tech maneuvered his fingers into the tight space, determined to retrieve the errant screw. The first thing he felt was definitely not the screw.

Examining the object in his hand, Tech raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Hold on," he muttered to himself, turning the item over in his palm. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that it wasn't a stray screw at all, but rather a piece of jewelry—a stud earring, to be precise. Intrigued, Tech glanced around his immediate surroundings, searching for any other anomalies, but found nothing amiss.

Glancing at the cot hanging on the opposite wall of the Marauder he had no doubt the earring was yours. The question lay in how it found its way into his cot. Closing his fist around the stud and setting aside his projects, Tech left his cot to grab his datapad. Once in hand, he settled back into his usual spot, plugging into the dataport next to his cot, and began sifting through the camera footage.

While Tech seldom needed to review the recordings, he was meticulous in his examination. As the footage played, he focused intently, scouring for any unexpected visitors in his personal space.

It didn’t take long for him to find the clip. More than 30 rotations ago, you appeared on screen, settling onto the edge of his cot, looked towards the exit, and pulled yourself fully up into the bunk. Mimicking your actions, Tech leaned out to survey the area for any potential interruptions before returning his attention to the footage, his curiosity piqued.

As Tech continued to watch the footage, he observed your relaxed demeanor as you settled into his space, making yourself at home. Your hands explored the surroundings, tracing the sketches adorning the wall and the edges of his bed before coming to rest on your stomach. Tech glanced at the pillow beside him, surprised he hadn’t picked up on your scent.

In the video, you leaned back, seemingly preparing to relax, prompting Tech's curiosity to peak. He watched intently as you closed your eyes briefly, a fleeting moment of apparent calm. However, your fingers soon began to fidget, and your eyes opened again, scanning over his drawings. Tech observed with a mixture of fascination and perplexity as you pulled your shirt from your pants, revealing the skin below your navel.

Tech didn’t have time to consider what you were doing before your hands got to work on your pants. Adjusting his goggles and bringing the datapad closer to his face, he watched intently as you deftly worked on your pants, effortlessly opening them just enough for your hand to slip inside. Even through the fabric, the movements of your fingers were unmistakable

Tech reared back slightly, his mind racing with thoughts. He paused the video, freezing the image of you lost in your own touch, unaware of the camera recording your actions. His thumb wandered along your silhouette, he’d witnessed you sleeping and caught you off guard on occasion but this felt very different.

Although you were technically intruding upon his personal space, Tech reasoned that you likely believed you were not being watched. Holding his breath, he hesitated for a moment before pressing play, eager to see how the situation would unfold.

Tech's eyes widened as a mixture of disbelief and arousal washing over him. Your actions were intimate in a way he hasn’t expected. His hand instinctively moved to adjust his goggles, his focus unwavering on the datapad screen as you continued.

Your hand dove farther into your pants while your free hand slid up your body and onto your chest. The hand on your chest mirrored a moment he couldn't forget—the moment he had separated you and Crosshair by means of a hand Crosshair’s shoulder and another your chest.

He heard you hushedly moan, “Tech.” The way you said his name sent a shiver down Tech's spine, his heart rate quickening in response.

He hesitated for a brief moment, torn between shutting off the video and continuing to watch. It wasn't until he felt the undeniable strain against his own pants that Tech finally forced himself to pause the recording. His mind raced as he pieced together the timeline of this event, recalling the mission with the 501st that had stirred up unresolved feelings and tension between you and the Bad Batch. 

Tech watched you in his cot and a small smile came to him. Evidently it was his touch that had the most impact. With a thoughtful expression, he uncurled his hand, the stud earring still nestled within his palm. Casting a glance at the concealed microcamera, Tech knew he had to handle this situation delicately.

As he pondered his next move, Tech considered the whereabouts of his teammates. Echo and Hunter were engaged in a meeting with a Jedi general, Crosshair and Wrecker were occupied restocking supplies, and you had taken on the task of handling rations. You made it clear you were only handling the rations this time.

Glancing at the time displayed on his datapad, Tech calculated that you would soon be returning. With a sense of anticipation, he tapped the corner of his datapad, preparing himself for your imminent arrival.

He pinched the earring between his thumb and forefinger to place it on your pillow. Unplugging from the dataport, Tech went to stand in the Marauder’s doorway. Leaning against the frame, he appeared engrossed in his datapad, though his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of your impending return.

As he scrolled through the datapad, Tech played out various scenarios in his mind, preparing himself for the interaction to come. He wanted to handle the situation with finesse, ensuring that neither of you felt uncomfortable or embarrassed.

Soon enough, he spotted you approaching, a hovercart laden with rations in tow. Your smile was warm as you greeted him, not at all surprised to find him waiting. You chuckled lightly as you shook your head, teasing him by saying, "Guess I shouldn't be surprised you're already done with your tinkering," you remarked, your tone affectionate.

Tech remained focused on his datapad initially, not looking up as you approached. "I've told you, it's not 'tinkering,'" he reiterated, his tone matter-of-fact. With a casual push off the doorframe, he straightened up. "Besides, there's another matter that has arisen, and I require your assistance with it."

You leaned casually on the handles of the hovercart, feigning nonchalance. "My help? Must be pretty desperate," you teased, eliciting a bored, almost annoyed look from Tech. Chuckling at his reaction, you urged him to lead the way, pushing the cart toward the ship. "Fine, fine. Let's get whatever it is over with."

Following Tech inside, you watched curiously as he handed you his datapad. He retrieved a long cord from beneath his cot and plugged it into the device and the dataport beside his cot. Pointing towards your cot opposite his, he instructed, "You may sit there."

You followed Tech's suggestion and settled into your cot as he maneuvered into his bunk, opening a panel beside the dataport. "I need to calibrate a camera I installed in my bunk.”

The word 'camera' caught you off guard, and you struggled to maintain your composure, your surprise barely contained to a single raised eyebrow. "Since when do you have a camera in your bunk?" you asked, trying to sound casual despite the rush flooding your mind. Inside, you felt a sense of panic at the implications of what might be hidden in the camera's memory. Your heart raced as a live feed of Tech working on the datapad panel appeared on the screen, confirming your suspicions.

"For playback purposes when I make repairs," Tech said with a shrug of a shoulder. "It can prove useful for reference purposes. However, I've never found the need for it," he added with a smirk of triumph.

Internally, a wave of relief hit you. It seemed that Tech had never bothered to review the footage, which eased your earlier concerns. "So, you just have a constant recording going?" you asked, trying to sound bored.

Tech shook his head, scoffing at the suggestion. "That would be unnecessary," he replied. "The camera is motion-activated. Recording only initiates when someone moves in front of it. Even I would find it tedious to scour a constant feed for a single event.”

You nodded, your attention fixed on the screen as you watched Tech's movements. The camera panned smoothly, capturing every adjustment he made. "I'm not sure what I am looking for, but the view looks fine," you said.

“Sarad.” The mention of the Mando’an nickname caught you off guard and put you on high alert.

“Hmm?" you responded, feigning nonchalance as you hummed out a reply. Onscreen, Tech closed the wall panel and settled back into his cot, positioning himself to face the camera directly. His gaze locked onto the lens, and even through the video feed, you felt the weight of his stare, a subtle kind of eye contact.

"I believe I found something of yours, it is on your pillow" Tech said, pointing towards you as he addressed you directly. Your gaze followed his gesture, and sure enough, there it was—a tiny stud earring perched on your pillow. You brightened at the sight, recognizing your lost jewelry.

 Ditching the datapad, you plucked the earring and returned it to its rightful place in your ear. You beamed at Tech, who was now looking directly at you. “Tech, thank you! I thought it was lost for good.” Already forgetting the previous circumstances, you asked, “How in the stars did you find it?”

Tech's gaze softened as he watched you reclaim your earring, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I stumbled upon it recently during my ‘tinkering’ as you say."

Your beaming dimmed with a bit of confusion as he continued, "It was nestled in an unexpected place—in my cot, of all locations." He paused, allowing the implication of his words to sink in.

A short, nervous laugh bubbled out of you. "In your cot? How did it end up there?" you asked in a bad play confusion. You suddenly knew exactly how you came to lose it.

Tech's eyes narrowed as he soaked in your reactions. He was committing this interaction to memory. Never having experienced exchanges like the ones you two shared, and with nothing to relate it to, he found himself struggling to predict the next outcome.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Actually," he began, his tone betraying amusement, “I do have an idea of how it ended up in my cot." Pausing for a moment to gauge your reaction, he continued, "You see, while reviewing the camera footage for the earring’s orgins, I happened to come across a rather fascinating incident."

"It seems that during a moment of relaxation, you may have inadvertently misplaced your earring," he explained, choosing his words carefully. His eyes dipped for a blink as he practically purred, "It was quite captivating, really.”

Tech noticed the hastening of your breaths and the familiar red blotches blossoming up your neck. The corner of his lips twitched in rhythm with his fingers. 

Despite the temptation, he knew it wasn't the time for such impulses. He resisted the urge to reach out and feel the warm flush of your skin. He found himself wondering how you would react, but he pushed aside those thoughts.

You sat there wide eyed with an anxiety induced smile stuck in place. No words came to mind, all you could imagine was what kind of expression Tech had while he watched you.

“How much did you see?”

“May I ask you something?” He completely ignored your question, too engrossed in dissecting the situation for it to register. You squeaked out a yes and he asked, “What you did in my cot…” He leaned forward, hands on his knees, “Do you do that in the others’ cots?”

He’d asked you something similar in the past. About whether you reacted to his brothers the way you did him. If he knew of the ache between your legs his intense watch was causing, well that would be his answer. 

Your breaths became heavier and your tongue still felt like lead when you said, “You don’t like that idea. Do you?”

Tech considered the concept for a moment. “That is irrelevant to my question.”

You sensed his hesitation, but you needed a definitive answer before proceeding with your plans. "Amuse me," you urged, pushing him gently for a response.

As Tech's gaze momentarily flickered away, a serious expression crossed his features. “I have no say in where you choose to… relax.” After a brief pause to compose himself, he adjusted his goggles and met your gaze again. “But no. Hearing you’ve done so in other cots is not something I would enjoy.”

“Are you angry with me for what I did?”

Tech's response was immediate and straightforward. "No," he replied, his puzzlement evident in his tone.

“May I show you something?” You were on your feet and in front of him before the question was finished.

In response to your abrupt question, Tech found himself slightly taken aback. "I-I suppose so,"Tech watched as you undid your pants, mirroring the actions he had witnessed in the recording. However, this time, instead of proceeding as before, your hands settled beside you.

He stared at the little spot of abdomen peeking out. Keeping his head still, Tech raised his eyes to meet yours, a question evident in his expression.

There was a moment of silent understanding between you, mutual acknowledgment of the question hanging in the air. Tech's analytical mind raced, seeking to decipher the meaning behind your actions, yet he remained composed, awaiting your response with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

“Take off a glove, Tech.”

He didn’t break eye contact as he lifted his right hand and pulled at each finger until the glove was off. Bracing a hand on the bunk above him, you leaned down to reach for his hand. An inch away, you stopped. Tech was so careful with you. Getting clear consent and understanding before even touching you. You wanted to afford him the same thing.

Your stomach fluttered as you confessed, “It happened only once outside of my own bed.” He swallowed upon hearing that, fueling you to continue. “The thought of you, Tech, makes my body react in a way it doesn’t for others.”

Obliviousness was not a characteristic of Tech’s. Certain social cues were lost on him, but he was the most intelligent man you’d ever met. He could read between the lines and he was. Tech’s hand closed the small gap to lay palm side up in your hand. 

“I require a better understanding of what you mean.” Without speaking you guided his hand to the cusp of your pants, his fingers barely touching the patch of exposed abdomen.

The surprise on his face only encouraged your rising fever. “If you want a better understanding,” You leaned into his touch, “You’ll have to get one for yourself.”

In the thralls of discovery, a ravenous look consumes Tech and that was the expression spiraling over him in that moment.. He put his left hand on your hip, pulling you slightly lower while, at the same time, angling his hand between your pants and your body and right between your legs. His touch took your breath away. 

His middle finger smoothed over your skin and hit the wetness dripping out of you. He pressed another finger over your slick entrance and pulled a soft noise from you.

“This is unexpected.” Tech’s face was vibrantly proud. It was that cocky self confidence that made you weak kneed in the first place. “I rather like it.” He applied more pressure and his fingers began to dip inside of you.

Your knees bent at the touch, your body begging for more. It worked to the point of getting his fingers farther inside. Tech responded by curling the two fingers into you and pulling you forward. The grip you had on the bunk above was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the ground. When his fingers started to move, that life line nearly snapped.

“I didn’t watch your recording very long.” Tech admitted while his free hand moved to grip your ass. He gently squeezed your ass and said, “This is something I wanted to observe first hand.”

“You wanted this?” Your question came out in a whine, you could barely think of anything other than the fact Tech was fingering you.

Tech buried his fingers deeper, “Oh, most definitely.” At this point, his hand was about the only thing keeping you on your feet. The angle of his palm made it so he was constantly brushing against your clit, making it hard to stay standing. He felt your knees wobble and he tugged your forward again, fingers still working inside of you.

You fell into him, hands on his shoulders and a shin over his thigh. The sounds you were making for him, only for him as he was constantly reminding himself, were working him into a frenzy as well. He wanted more, he needed to know what other faces you would make for him. What sounds he could pull from you as he played with you.

  With each careful movement of his fingers, Tech observed the subtle shifts in your expression, the moments when your eyes fluttered closed or your breath caught in your throat. He adjusted his touch accordingly, seeking to provide you with the perfect balance of pressure and release.

You had long since lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, your gaze drifting away as you surrendered to the pleasure coursing through your body. It had been years since you had felt this kind of intimacy. It was with a member of the 501st and it had never felt as intense as this moment with Tech.

Tech studied you far more than you realized. Learning how you worked and what you liked was intoxicating him. This was no different. He had no relevant experience with such intimacies, but he was priding himself on learning your body. You’d never have guessed this was his first time with the way his fingers strung you along.

His middle finger curled into a soft spot on your wall, sending a jolt through you. You leaned farther into him, panting into his ear. “Tech, you can’t keep doing that.”

Tech barely let off the pressure. Instead he rolled his finger into the spot over and over, coaxing you to tighten around him and collapse. You were straddling him at this point and, with his free hand anchoring you in place with a firm grip on your ass, release was rushing towards you. “I’ve barely done anything yet.” The timbre in his voice sent a shudder through you. 

You pulled back and held his face in your hands. “Tech,” his name came out in a whine. “I don’t want the first time you see me like this to be on your fingers.” Your mouth hung open in a soft moan.

Tech’s gloved hand flew to your face to hook a thumb into your mouth. He drew your face closer to his, his voice dropping to a low, almost teasing tone. "Too bad," he murmured, his words laced with playful defiance. 

He gripped you with whole hand, his palm working into your clit while his fingers kept up their pace. The combination made you see stars as heat burst through you. Pleasure shot from your core to every nerve in your body. You arched into him and you rode out your climax on his hand. His hand moved over your mouth, his thumb now wet with your saliva.

You pushed his hand off your mouth, it fell to your back, and you caught his lips in a kiss. It quickly became a hungry dance between you. The pressure of the kiss was almost bruising, but neither of you cared about air at the moment. As you licked and nipped at his lips, Tech quickly followed your rhythm until you pulled his tongue into yours for a gentle suck. He groaned at the sensation and couldn’t stop the thought of what else might find its way into your mouth.

Gradually, Tech slowed his fingers and the kiss faded into soft exchanges. Tech was withdrawing his hand when the kiss finally broke completely and you both were left panting.

Tech’s gloved hand casually cradled the small of your back as he shifted your weight onto his left leg. He brought the fingers, still slick with you, to his mouth to suck on the tips. He smirked at your blatant surprise, gave his hand a wipe on his cot, and set it on your thigh.

“With your permission, I’d like to refer back to this particular recording in the future.”

It took a moment to shake off the haze of pleasure and remember the camera. You shifted your focus to the lens, then leaned in, your voice barely above a whisper. “Only if you touch me like that again.” Satisfied with your playful tease, you attempted to lean back, but Tech's firm grip held your head in place. His lips brushed against your ear.

In a quiet, firm voice he promised. “That was only the beginning.”

[augustender]

(version with black hair under the text)

Blood Angels are probably my favourites out of loyalist legions bc I'm a sucker for gene flaws (and tee hee, vampires - hence the pointed ears), so then I found a beautiful stained glass art piece I just couldn't resist redrawing it as Sanguinius

Also debated giving him dataports, but couldn't find definitive answers on a fact that primarchs have them (ik that Magnus has some version of them on his models, but still)

[jmtorres]

so uh. does anyone want to talk [murderbot ep 1.6 spoilers, also a gory and questionable screencap]

about the bot-captain intimacy/vulnerability innuendo-metaphor situation

leebeebee keeps talking about giving it a penis meanwhile mensah penetrated it in a (n unnecessarily huge, in case you might miss it) yonic wound slit while it joked about first times

like!!! i'm sorry!!!! that's is full-on if you don't have your own vulva, hand-carved is fine!!!! with its dataport up top like a clit! that is some goddamn imagery right there!

[kaijuerotica]

the murderbot show showed murderbot's dataport and it was only at that moment i even considered it looked like anything other than a literal USB slot

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Dark Water”

Chapter Five: Iron in the Voice

The Bad Batch x Reader

Rain streaked down the wide windowpanes of the observation deck, the sky outside Kamino’s sterile lab facility a dull grey. Below, banks of consoles gleamed with soft-blue light as two cadets crouched over separate terminals in the center of the slicing bay: Fixer, Delta Squad’s quiet prodigy, and Tech, Clone Force 99’s fast-talking firebrand.

You stood beside Sergeant Kal Skirata, arms folded, as the two boys were handed their challenge prompt by the Kaminoan overseer.

“Both will be given identical encrypted data cores,” the Kaminoan droned. “They are to extract the primary data payload, identify the false trails, and re-secure the system with no external support. Sabotage is permitted.”

“They’re still kids,” you muttered.

“They’re soldiers,” Skirata replied, flatly. “And this is Kamino. You think the real war’s gonna wait till they’re ready?”

You didn’t argue.

Not here. Not in front of the Nulls, who were slouched in the back with arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Below, Fixer tapped once to acknowledge the test. No wasted motion. No questions. Just cold efficiency.

Tech, in contrast, adjusted his goggles three times, then pushed up the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Ah — we’re beginning already. Excellent. I had concerns about the test design, but this—this will do nicely.”

Skirata snorted. “Is he always like that?”

“Worse,” you replied. “He narrated his own vaccinations last week.”

⸻

Tech’s fingers were a blur over the interface, his brow furrowed as he worked his way through five firewalls and an obfuscation spider-layer of recursive code. “Crude,” he muttered. “But well implemented.”

Across the room, Fixer had already bypassed two layers of security without a single verbal comment. His expression never changed. No muttering, no celebration. Just clean, silent efficiency.

Tech peeked over his shoulder briefly.

“Oh. Oh that’s fast,” he muttered. “Okay. Okay, it’s a race now.”

He cracked his knuckles and pulled a secondary cable from under the table.

“I’m rerouting my partition. Not technically regulation,” he said to no one, “but well within the parameters of testable creativity…”

He pulled a spike tool from his belt — homemade, by the looks of it — and jammed it into the dataport.

On the observation deck, one of the Nulls — Mereel — leaned forward and squinted.

“He made that himself,” he said. “Did you give him permission to modify the slicer tools?”

“No,” you said, frowning. “But he’s… inventive.”

Skirata grunted. “Reminds me of Sev. With less blood and more monologues.”

Fixer paused just long enough to notice the tremor in the data feed.

“Interference,” he muttered.

He traced it to Tech’s console. A deliberate loop injection.

Without missing a beat, Fixer countered — flooding the shared sandbox environment with null packets, static noise designed to crash low-level buffer systems.

Tech’s console stuttered for half a second. Long enough to be noticeable.

He blinked, surprised. “He’s sabotaging me. Oh, good. This is now a true contest.”

“Your boy’s cocky,” Skirata said, eyeing Tech.

“He’s ten and smarter than half the Kaminoan engineers,” you replied. “He’s allowed a little arrogance.”

“He’s gonna learn it doesn’t keep you alive in the field.”

You nodded slowly. “Then I’ll teach him what will.”

Tech’s strategy changed. He abandoned the route he’d started and began carving a new one — a longer one — and began patching over his past mistakes behind him. Not just slicing anymore. Cloaking.

Fixer noticed.

He adjusted. Hard countered.

Back and forth it went: silent duel over code and cleverness, one looping and twisting, the other dissecting with ruthless precision.

Eventually — as the test’s timer reached zero — both terminals chimed.

Data retrieved. Payload secured. False trails identified.

Match drawn.

“Well,” Skirata muttered. “Neither of them lost. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

You glanced at him. “Means we’ve got two assets. Not one.”

You stepped away from the window and headed for the exit, tapping your comm once to send your evaluation of Tech’s work to the instructors’ logs.

Behind you, Fixer and Tech were unplugging their tools and walking off the mat.

“…That was exhilarating,” Tech said, pushing his goggles up. “You’re very skilled. Efficient. Elegant, even. You hardly said a word!”

Fixer looked at him. “You didn’t stop talking.”

Tech looked genuinely pleased. “You noticed!”

Fixer didn’t respond. But there was, just briefly, the hint of a smirk as he walked away.

Tech watched him go, then turned back to the empty lab.

“…I liked him.”

⸻

Tipoca City — Mess Hall

2043 Hours

It was late by Kaminoan standards.

The mess hall had emptied into that liminal quiet, where the cleaning droids hummed softly and trays clattered only once every few minutes. A few cadets lingered, muttering over ration bars or staring into nutrient paste bowls like they might tell fortunes.

Tech stepped into the room, datapad clutched to his chest like a prized relic.

His eyes scanned the space and — there, toward the back — was Fixer, alone at a table. Tray pushed aside. Console open. Fingers dancing over keys in precise, economical movements.

Tech hesitated only a moment before crossing the floor.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from him.

Fixer barely looked up. “You don’t stop, do you?”

“I’m trying,” Tech said earnestly. “But I’ve found most silences are simply opportunities to fill gaps in mutual understanding.”

Fixer paused in his typing. “…You’re talking again.”

“I am.”

Fixer stared at him flatly.

Tech cleared his throat. “I… just wanted to say your code loop countermeasures today were incredible. You rerouted the sandbox flood without destabilizing the sequence, and your packet injection efficiency was—”

“Average,” Fixer interrupted.

Tech blinked. “That’s demonstrably false.”

“I made two mistakes,” Fixer replied. “One delay on the decoy bypass, and I used a loop that was inefficient. You still almost beat me.”

“I didn’t even finish my best algorithm,” Tech admitted. “I overcompensated when your spike flooded my initial path.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Fixer tilted his head. “You coded that spike tool yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Send me the schematics.”

“…Really?”

Fixer gave a curt nod.

Tech lit up like a reactor core. “Absolutely! I’ll send them through the shared uplink once I debug the sublayer compression.”

Fixer returned to his console. “No rush. I’ll rebuild it better.”

Tech smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Across the room, the doors hissed open.

Boots stomped in, loud and uneven.

“Well if it isn’t the Nerd Herd!”

Tech looked up to see Scorch, decked in slightly scuffed cadet fatigues, two ration bars crammed into one hand and a bottle of high-protein caf in the other.

“Fixer! I thought you swore off social interaction unless it involved ‘tactical necessity.’ You finally making friends?”

Fixer didn’t glance up. “Trying.”

Scorch stopped mid-chew, looked between them, then jabbed a finger at Tech.

“You! Goggles!”

“Tech,” he said politely.

“Right. You’re the loud one.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

“I heard about your little slicer showdown. You realize Fixer’s the reason the rest of us don’t even try anymore, right?”

“His skill is remarkable,” Tech agreed.

“You’re lucky you still have a console,” Scorch muttered, flopping down beside Fixer with all the subtlety of a plasma grenade. “Last time I challenged him, my data terminal burst into flames. Pretty sure it cried.”

Fixer didn’t look up. “You deleted your own boot files.”

Scorch waved a hand. “Details. Point is, you made an impression, Goggles.”

“I aim to,” Tech said, a little proud.

Scorch leaned back in his seat. “Well, guess the quiet killer has a sparring partner now. You play sabacc?”

“Not against probability,” Tech replied. “It removes the tension.”

Scorch stared, mouth full of ration bar. “…Stars help us.”

Fixer typed one more command, closed his console, and glanced at Tech.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Tech nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I’d… like that.”

Scorch snorted. “Maker, you two really are bonding over data encryption. Someone warn the Nulls. The nerds are uprising.”

“Statistically improbable,” Tech said absently.

Scorch just cackled.

⸻

Kamino — Outer Training Deck Gamma

The storm rolled heavy over the ocean, lightning painting the sky in violent flashes that reflected off the metal plating of the training yard. A dozen cadets stood shoulder to shoulder on the firing line, their modified rifles slung low and helmets tucked under arms.

You were on the upper observation balcony, soaked to the knees from the walk out here but too stubborn to complain. This was sniper day — and the only day you’d been warned about ahead of time by Skirata with a grim smirk and a flask in hand.

“Long-range accuracy under simulated field conditions,” Vau intoned dryly as he stepped up beside you. “Each cadet will have one shot. 1,200 meters. Wind shift every six seconds. Targets move randomly. And no, we don’t let them brace.”

You raised a brow. “You want them to fail.”

Walon Vau smiled behind his helmet. “We want them to adapt.”

Down below, Crosshair stood at the edge of the group, helmet under one arm, a frown on his sharp face and his posture full of quiet tension. Unlike the other cadets — including the taller, broader sniper from Omega Squad, and the shockingly composed Null named Kom’rk — Crosshair didn’t speak to anyone.

He just watched.

And calculated.

“Cadets,” barked Sergeant Gilamar, stepping in front of them. “You will fire in pairs. One at a time. First pair: RC-1205 ‘Sev’ and Null-C Kom’rk.”

Sev stepped forward, already grinning. “Hope the target’s got a will.”

Kom’rk didn’t speak. He just dropped into a kneeling stance, rifle already shouldered.

Sev fired first — a clean, brutal shot. 1,200 meters. Impact.

Kom’rk adjusted slightly and fired — almost at the same second. His shot split Sev’s round. Even from the balcony, you heard the trainer next to you exhale.

“Show off,” Sev muttered.

Crosshair stepped up for his round when called. His partner was the Omega Squad sniper in training, a clone with textbook stance and regulation posture.

The trainer called it.

Omega fired first. A good shot — clean hit, upper right quadrant.

Crosshair barely moved.

He didn’t drop into position like the others. He crouched low, rifle steadied in his elbow rather than his shoulder, breathing so shallow it barely misted.

“Crosshair, fire.”

He didn’t even flinch. His scope realigned.

Bang.

The Omega cadet’s shot had been good.

Crosshair’s round hit dead center, splintering the internal core of the target and sending a flash of red through the training readout.

No one spoke.

“Lucky,” Omega muttered under his breath as they stood.

Crosshair’s lips curled. “Skill. Something you’d know about if you stopped shaking when you breathe.”

That got the kid angry. “Say that again?”

Crosshair just kept walking, leaving his helmet tucked under one arm, his long rifle balanced with the lazy grace of a child who knew he was better and didn’t care who liked it.

“Arrogant little shabuir,” Skirata grunted from the back.

“He’s not wrong,” you murmured.

“He’s not right either,” Vau added. “That kid is a shot — no question. But he’s ice. He pushes everyone away. That kind of sniper gets someone killed on a team.”

You didn’t reply. Your gaze followed Crosshair as he returned to the prep bench, checking the sights again, not speaking to anyone. Even Sev gave him a sidelong glance.

“He’s going to be one of the best,” you finally said.

“And the loneliest,” Skirata finished for you.

⸻

Cadet Barracks, Later That Night

Crosshair was sitting alone at his bunk, rifle spread in parts across the mat, a soft cloth in hand. He wasn’t polishing it for show. He was cleaning the trigger mechanism like it was an extension of himself.

“Nice shot today,” came a voice.

It was Sev, carrying two protein bars and a half-finished can of caf.

Crosshair didn’t look up. “You missed center.”

“You split it,” Sev shrugged. “Didn’t say you weren’t better. Just didn’t think you’d still be cleaning that thing two hours later.”

“It keeps me steady.”

Sev flopped down across from him. “You know you can be good at your job and also have a personality, right?”

Crosshair finally looked up. “I don’t care about personality.”

“Clearly.”

A pause.

“I was going to offer to help you mod the scope next week,” Sev muttered, “but now I’m thinking I’ll just watch you struggle.”

Crosshair smirked faintly. “I don’t struggle.”

Sev rolled his eyes. “You do now. You’re talking to me.”

⸻

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[kark-trooper-echo]

Hey Echo I'm all alone tonight and I have a thought about what you can do with your scomp. The password on my laptop isn't working and I need someone to break in because blogging on my phone is hard for this elder millennial. Please.

Does your laptop or your home's central information system have a dataport I can scomp into? Getting through your data protection is going to take a while without one.

[scp-69]

my toxic trait is that i Do love to think that mb grows out a mullet. it obscures its dataport! its practical!!!

[the-last-dillpickle]

Underutilized bit of DS9 lore--dataports:

From "A Simple Investigation"

ODO: Tell me, Arissa, what's a nice woman like you doing with a dataport? ARISSA: They're not illegal. ODO: They ought to be. People tend to use them to access information other people don't want them to access. /// ARISSA: I access computer systems and steal information for him, government data, business plans, whatever he asks for. ODO: I hope you're well paid. It's a dangerous line of work. Trigger the wrong security protocol, you could end up with permanent brain damage. ARISSA: I think about that from time to time, but there's not much I can do about it. /// ARISSA: You know how I ended up with this? I was a netgirl. I told myself I wasn't selling my body since there was no actual contact. But I was. I let men into my mind for money. Draim was one of them. That's how we first met. Before I knew it, I was working for him. He paid me more than I'd ever seen before. I was so far removed from the consequences of what I was doing, it was easy to pretend that I wasn't hurting anyone. I'd hear things now and then. Some businessman Draim had me investigate would disappear. I tried to convince myself it had nothing to do with me. But after while I couldn't pretend anymore. I wanted out.

From "Honor Among Theives"

BILBY: Hey, we're using that comm. booth. Go. Order some nozala sandwiches. (Krole has a dataport fitted, and uses it to hack the system.) COMPUTER: Computer accessed. BILBY: Get them to deliver some extra vilm sauce. KROLE: Who should I bill this time? BILBY: I don't care who pays for it, just so as long as it isn't us. FLITH: How about the police? KROLE: No, we billed them for last night's dinner. FLITH: Municipal Sanitation. Do you have their account code? KROLE: I will, in a minute. (O'Brien secretly points something at the comm. booth, and electricity leaps to Krole's dataport.) BILBY: Krole! O'BRIEN: Don't! Don't touch him. He's being spiked. (O'Brien reaches under the energy waves and disconnects the call.) BILBY: You all right? They spiked him. They spiked him over a free lunch. What's this city coming to? KROLE: Look at this. Fused. (The dataport attachment.)

[off-brand-likes]

Febuwhump Day 5: Not Trusting Reality

After Zeb locates Kallus in the abandoned prison AU (parts 1, 2, 3, and 4), Kallus begins his deeply confusing recovery!

Pain screams up Kallus's spine. Zeb is shouting over him. The cell's gray floor, covered in dust. Is that... wind?

A new ceiling. His whole unit is dead. He can't move. He doesn't want to be here again. Something stabs his arm.

Another new ceiling. Something's covering his face. He claws at it. A hand pulls his arm away. This could be one of several times in his life. None he wants to be in. Why is his brain doing this to him, now, at the end?

Repeating mechanical sound. Blurred light and motion. This time has to be the last.

A different ceiling. Light. Face is cold, so cold. Someone nearby is snoring. The academy, gods, why? His brain is thorough in flashing his life before his eyes, but Kallus would prefer a clearer order of events.

This ceiling is the same as the previous one. Frost on the panels. Has he forgotten one of the times he was hospitalized? He blinks, since that seemed to be what changes the part of his memory his dying brain chose to show him.

The frost-covered ceiling remains. Another hallucination, then. He sighs.

That small motion makes his chest hurt with the effort of pushing against a thick blanket. The air he draws in is freezing.

Wheels roll over a floor to his right. An FX-7 plugs into the bed's dataport with a grinding whir which means somebody hasn't been keeping it maintained as they should. Kallus can't find the energy to look for his datapad to report the issue.

No, that's not his responsibility anymore, is it? Parts of him are beginning to ache. Something in his abdomen spasms with the gouging urgency of a vibroblade wound while the FX-7 rolls away.

His eyes aren't focusing. A person's silhouette looms beside his bed. This moment, Kallus doesn't remember at all.

"What..." His voice rasps in his painfully dry throat. "What is this?"

"'This' is the first time you've been awake long enough to talk in two days," a stranger says. The accent is... Duros, by way of Huttese?

Aching and confused in one of so many medbays he lost count is not how Kallus expected to die. Does that make this... new? Is this happening now? Or is dying in this pitiful state just the kind of luck he's had lately?

"Calm down, please," says the Duros. "You're safe here, but if you raise your heart rate too much, you'll... Oh, there you go." The galaxy blinks out again.

Part 6 (I think?)

[soundwavesuperioraf]

Chapters 5 and 6 updated for my Jazz/Soundwave SG/G1 crossover fic. Check it out on ao3. Here's a snippet from a scene I loved writing:

“You can’t do a cover to Violet Rust,” Jazz insisted. “It isn’t done. It isn’t natural. You can’t improve on perfection.”

Soundwave couldn’t glare at him in boombox mode, but it felt like he was glaring at him. Soundwave ejected a wired headphone jack, aiming the cable towards Jazz. 

Jazz snatched it up and plugged it directly into his audial port. “Fine, fine. Play your bootleg remix. I’m sure it’s a musical travesty. No, worse, it’s musical treachery. Smelted Belts are rolling in their graves.”

Soundwave played the track at issue.

Violet Rust was a fast song, intended to get the energon flowing in a mech’s lines, but Soundwave had slowed it down. Instead of the slower speed detracting from the resonance, it drew it out and enhanced it. Jazz could focus on the harmonics in a way he usually didn’t when he was stomping out the thumping bass line. And then there was the harmonics Soundwave had added. The layered notes purred in Jazz’s audials, revving his systems.  

Oh scrap! If it was treason to enjoy Soundwave’s blatantly Earth-influenced covers to one of Jazz’s favorite pre-war artists, then Jazz was a betrayer of the highest caliber. 

“Frag, frag, frag. Am I hearing a theremin? What the pit? You can’t just…” He made an unintelligible sound. “It’s unbalanced, anyway, though. You haven’t achieved perfection yet.”

The boombox blinked its lights smugly, invitingly highlighting a shiny dataport.

“Yeah, I can fix it. Watch a master at work.”

Jazz rushed to plug in, eager to get his metaphorical servos on that track. As for his actual servos, he had one holding the headphone to his audials and one on Soundwave’s dials, adjusting the bass and then the overall balance, as promised. He was so focused on the music—Soundwave started the song over again when it ended—that he didn’t notice their fields syncing up until they were practically overlapped in their singular pursuit.

“There!” Jazz said dramatically when he was satisfied with his sound editing. He unplugged his connector but didn’t disconnect the headphones, preferring the total immersion. He stretched out his frame across the berth, head pillowed on Soundwave. “Let the beat roll.” Jazz crooned along to the lyricless track. “I can’t believe I like this. You dared to mess with perfection, but the vibe is sick. You’re an evil genius.” After Soundwave had played the track at least five times, Jazz had to ask, “What else you got?” 

[the-starry-seas]

omg you're a techo enjoyer too??? blessed 🥺 do you have any hcs or plot tribbles about them you'd be willing to share?

So Tech is the person that Echo spends the most time with, when he first goes with the Batch. This isn't because of any desire to connect on Tech's part - the only reason nobody calls him unfriendly is cause Crosshair is right there, in much the way that your neighbour's snarly dog isn't much of a problem compared to a rabid T Rex.

Instead, it's because the Bad Batch realise that, y'know, Echo's been Matrixed into a freezer for a while (timeline is not my strength but it was a few years, I think). Somebody's gotta figure out those cyborg parts and how to fix them, preferably before something breaks. And of course for something that serious, you choose the smart one.

At first, Echo is very awkward about this. The last thing he wants is someone digging around in his parts, even if it's for a good reason. But he also knows that it's going to be even worse for everybody if he has some sudden breakdown that disables him. So he grits his teeth and bears it.

(Tech does not notice shit about this. He has new science to explore, new problems to figure out, and human interaction has never been his strong suit. Autism King <3)

There's definitely some initial awkwardness, but Echo figures out pretty quickly that if he gets Tech rambling about something, the sound of his voice is soothing. Echo thinks nothing of it. (lol. lmao even.) He also comes to find it vaguely endearing when Tech gets distracted in the middle of something because he thinks of some cool upgrade that he can do. The Iron Man-style rocket boots are a total success. Tech is fully convinced his sensation of affection and pride is just because he got the boots working, and nothing to do with Echo himself (again: lol. lmao even.)

Tech pokes at the dataport, frowns, and looks down at his datapad. "Can you give me a hand with this?" A metal arm clatters to the floor next to him. Echo, across the room, hasn't moved from his co-pilot's seat and is still watching the latest episode of his holodrama. "Technically," he begins, adjusting his goggles with an indignant sniff, "yes, that is what I asked for. But I expected better of you."

Echo suddenly has some fucking thoughts about the possibility of Tech praising him, let me tell you. Still, he also has some reservations, because there's times where Tech gets too invested in the ✨ science ✨ and Echo starts feeling kind of like an experiment all over again.

Anyway the two of them are getting along pretty well and Tech is remaining fairly oblivious to both their feelings. (This is not a dig at Tech, I'm simply a huge sucker for ships where one of them doesn't realise their feelings until a Dramatic Moment, generally involving a near-death experience.) Except that Echo doesn't much like talking about his past and all the Clone Trauma™, especially pertaining to his lost Fives, and Tech's a nosy bitch who wants to know everything.

So Tech finds a way to get Echo's file. If the reg's not gonna talk, well, when has Tech ever respected a 'no access' sign? He reads through it and takes some notes, and it seems as though things are fine.

Except once Echo actually does start opening up about his past, Tech jumps in to fill in some details. Details that Echo certainly never told him. And Echo wants to know how Tech knows, and Tech's a shit liar, so the truth comes out.

Echo is not pleased with the truth.

(pain incoming)

"Well, I've... read your file," Tech says, hesitantly. He reaches up to adjust his goggles. A nervous tic, one that Echo usually finds endearing. But hearing that Tech was reading his file makes something twist in his stomach - what's left of it. Especially with Tech nervous about it. Echo's never really seen him like that. Not with him. "Okay," he replies, fighting to keep his voice and expression as close to 'calm' as possible. "And?" "I know it's been, well, hard. For you. For the other reg- the other clones." Echo stares at him, too shocked to attempt a look of neutrality any more. Tech must be joking. He must be. Not about reading his file, Echo had assumed that the Batch had all dug into him to find out who he was. But thinking that he knows anything about what it was like? Just because he read a file? He's seen the kinds of files that are kept on clones. They're dry, succinct, and mention nothing about who a clone is, just a service record like the kind you'd see kept about a machine. Because that's just about all they were, to the people in charge. The clones certainly weren't people to anyone but themselves. "So what's it like, Tech? Go on, you read the file." He waits. It's harsh, he knows, maybe even cruel, but he's not much in a laughing mood any more. "Maybe I... missed a few things," Tech hedges, looking very much like he wants to escape. "How much more do you want to know? Because they carved me out of myself, but they left the memories, and I see all of it every single night, so I can tell you more than the devil himself could stomach." He waits, but Tech doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight, eyes wide, fingers curling and uncurling around his datapad. Finally, Echo says, "You don't know shit, Tech. Don't ever pretend you do. Especially not around me." He leaves. For once, Tech's not distracted. For once, Tech watches him go.

So there's a bump in the road, as it were. Well, more like hitting a moose with your janky 90s sedan. You walked away from it physically fine but you have an overwhelming feeling about how oh god you're so fucked. Also who do you call about that???

Echo calls Rex. Rex does not know what to do about this. He lets Echo vent until they've been sitting quietly for a few minutes, and then suggests that maybe that was just Tech's way of trying to connect to Echo. Not exactly normal, "but you always did say, when you called, that he always paid attention to you and wanted to know more about you. Maybe this is an extension of that, and he didn't realise that he was crossing some lines."

(Yes, in my head, Rex is lowkey playing matchmaker. He's heard the way Echo's voice changes when he talks about Tech, and he wants to see where this goes.)

Meanwhile, Tech is bothering the shit out of Hunter because 'you know how people work, what did I do?'

This is the first that Hunter is hearing about any of this. He doesn't have the slightest idea what's going on, but he does have some experience with relationship difficulties caused by inadvertent assholery *inserts my Cross/Hunter agenda here*

So Rex helps Echo calm down, and Hunter helps Tech figure out how to apologise. Tech doesn't do shit with that knowledge because emotional conversations suck and he'd much rather pretend that just never happened, thank you goodbye. He's just a huge anxious mess because he doesn't know why people think he's being weird or mean or rude when he thought they were Just Vibing.

It takes like two months for Tech to make a move to fix this, is what I'm saying.

"Echo?" Tech asks hesitantly. He stands with his hands clasped in front of him, one thumb rubbing over the knuckles of his opposite hand. "Fuck off." Tech winces, but, well - with the way he inadvertently treated Echo, it's not like he can complain. "I- when I mentioned your file-" "Don't." "I was just trying to say that you didn't have to hide anything from me. That you were one of us. And we'd do our best to understand. I didn't- I'm not good at apologies, I'm sorry, I'll go-" "Wait." Tech freezes in the doorway, even more uncertain now. Echo sighs and looks at him. If his gaze is supposed to be communicating something, it's not in a language that Tech speaks. Maybe his uncertainty shows on his face, or maybe Echo was just waiting to collect his thoughts. "Thanks, Tech." Despite the awkward seriousness of their conversation, Tech smiles. "You're welcome, Echo. And if there's- I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to, you know, but if there's anything you wanted to talk about, um, well, I'm only so far away. The Marauder's not a big ship." Echo doesn't say anything else, but he nods, and Tech feels like he actually managed to make some progress as he slips back out to the kitchen.

Anyway Echo has to comm Rex and send him ten bucks because Rex was right about Tech not being an asshole. Rex is only a little smug about this.

Echo slowly starts gravitating back towards Tech after that, and Tech is all !!!! not entirely sure what's happening but apparently the hot one Echo doesn't hate him any more so that's great!

They eventually get back into their groove and Tech makes him those kickass rocket boots to apologise for the whole... whatever that was. Words are hard, inventing is easy. He's still not 100% sure what went down, but Echo seems to have forgiven him, so he doesn't want to bring it up again. (He does, but it's like... a full year later, once he's definitely sure that Echo's not mad at him about it any more.)

Good thing that they do find their way back together, because one of Echo's legs breaks. And of course Tech's the one who immediately gets a little googly-eyed about finally being able to take Echo's leg apart. (He was strictly forbidden from Tinkering while Echo was wearing them, because Echo doesn't completely trust Tech to be able to resist the siren call of becoming a mad scientist. He adores the man, but he also knows Tech's weaknesses.)

Tech does indeed get a little mad scientist-y when he gets his hands all over those legs. He spends a week with a diet of space Red Bull, dry instant ramen, and no sleep, and comes up with Legs 2.0.11.8. He almost blows the ship up once or twice, but nothing seriously affects the life support systems, so it's fine, leave the lab alone.

Legs 2.0.11.8 are lighter, more durable, fit more comfortably, and have not only the fancy rocket boosters, but the ability to switch out normal treads for heavy ones and even climbing crampons! And a thousand other upgrades, but he's talking so fast that Echo genuinely has no idea what's going on. He figures that he can ask to read Tech's file about em later (yes he jokes about that, no Tech doesn't know if he can laugh).

When Echo first tries out his new legs, he loses his balance and goes straight into Tech's arms. Tech catches him and murmurs You're doing great, Echo.

Echo is running on an emotional high of having his legs back, having much better legs than the last ones, being caught by a hot nerd, and being praised by a hot nerd.

There's nothing to do about all that except kiss Tech.

He briefly thinks he's encountered a massive problem when Tech doesn't kiss back, and just stands there with a thoughtful look on his face. There's about a thousand things crossing Echo's mind in that moment, none of them exactly good. Can he get kicked off a squad for kissing someone???

Tech calmly says, "That was unexpected but perfectly acceptable. I commend your technique."

Echo isn't entirely sure what that means for a second, but then Tech pulls him in with both hands and tongues him, and Echo figures he doesn't need to ask.

The Batch is entirely unaware of this until three weeks later, when Echo joins them in the cockpit and sits right down in Tech's lap with his legs crossed. Wrecker wants to know why Echo's not in his usual co-pilot's chair. Echo just says figure it out and nudges Tech's chin up to kiss him.

Okay I've got so many headcanons too hold on

Tech's bunk is full of half-forgotten-about wires, metal sheets, pieces of rebar, loose screws, and the occasional shard of glass. Echo will not get into that bunk, they cuddle in Echo's hammock.

Tech will lay on top of Echo like a living weighted blanket and is perfectly happy to stay there for 12+ hours if he gets really invested in something on his datapad. This is often some design for another improvement to Echo's implants, so double bonus!

Strip chess

They love crosswords but they manage to get really competitive. Usually this means they make out about it, but sometimes they get mad at each other. Scrabble is banned after a few Incidents that resulted in yelling and a little blood, Hunter burned the tiles.

Tech keeps begging Echo into picking up dangerous insects, snails, frogs, and poisonous plants with his metal hand. Echo doesn't have to worry about getting bitten/poisoned and Tech can get a close-up look. Best of both worlds!

LEGO couple. If you haven't seen them for 16 hours? They got deeply invested into space version of some NASA set with 4000 pieces. Echo will bite you if you interrupt them.

Echo doesn't handle cold weather, it reminds him too much of being stuck as a POW. This means that the Batch leaves him on the ship on arctic missions but it also means Tech gets him eight pairs of fluffy socks because he read on the holonet that those are the best for keeping warm. Nobody's allowed to point out that Echo no longer has feet to keep warm. Echo wears them anyway and has favourites.

Sometimes Echo uses his USB hand to lock Tech's datapad when Tech won't go to sleep

He has a body pillow because it helps when his hips hurt. It's custom printed to look like Tech. Tech gets irrationally jealous over seeing Echo cuddle it.

Tech can do that finger skateboard thing and Echo uniroincally thinks it's really clever of him and admires his tricks

Tech makes Echo a new arm that has a human-shaped hand on the end so it has a wider range of function. The USB comes out of the tip of Echo's middle finger, at Echo's request.

Echo shakes hands/takes things from people with his metal hand. Tech is the only exception.

Tech likes crouching and crawling around, instead of walking 'normally'. There's been a few times that his head's popped up from where he's been crawling around on the floor like a snake, and Echo almost kicked him in the face because it scared him.

Echo can do some Black Widow shit with his new metal legs. He tries them all out on Tech cause it gets Tech real hot and bothered

There's been several times that Tech runs away from making out because he had a breakthrough thought on some project. Echo is always a little mad about it.

Tech snores. Loudly. Echo always turns off his hearing aids and lets that be everyone else's problem. He likes the way Tech's chest moves against his when they're sleeping together.

Echo keeps the lights off and his shirt on when they're getting intimate for years. Lot of self-esteem issues related to how his body looks. It's Tech's unfailing admiration for the occasional shirtless look, that eventually helps Echo start to accept himself.

Tech's name in Echo's phone is 'cyare' and Echo's name in Tech's phone is 'Echo 💙'

Echo once casually refers to a 'honey-do list' and Tech needs a reboot because holy shit he's honey!!!

Everyone can always tell when they were making out because Echo has hickeys everywhere. At first he was embarrassed about it but nowadays he shows them off.

Rex once commented 'oh, wow, did Echo get hit in the throat?' and Tech spat his water across the table. That was how Rex found out they were hooking up.

Rex said he was going to give Tech the shovel talk and Tech immediately started talking over him about the types of screws used to connect shovel heads. Rex never got around to his part.

Tech and Echo always walk holding hands. Sometimes the rest of the Batch stops or changes directions, and Tech doesn't notice with his datapad two inches from his face, so Echo gently tugs him in the right direction.

Sometimes the rest of the Batch didn't stop or change direction, and Echo is pulling him into an alley to make out.

Tech still hasn't lived down the time he came back from a detour with Echo and then had to go back to find his codpiece.

They stargaze whenever they're planetside. Tech loves infodumping about the stars and Echo loves to listen. Tech custom-built a two-person lawn chair so they can put their feet up. Echo's fallen asleep cuddled up to him more times than even Tech can count.

Echo has to be physically direct with flirting, cause if he just says something like "wow you're hot", then Tech just says "yes thank you", and keeps doing what he's doing. Gotta distract him from his project by kissing him or sitting in his lap or something before Echo can get to the words part.

[jadefyre]

torn in my attempts at murderbot character design because canonically I don't think it has any inorganics visible on its face (it mentions, the first time it tries blending in, that its inorganics are pretty much all covered by its sleeves and clothing but that its dataport on the back of its neck is a bit visible)... and Facial Inorganic Parts So Cool

like. on one hand, canonically accurate design my beloved. on the other, rule of cool. the struggle is real