#soft tech

[i2042]

🌫🐋 by @morumiru__

[knightprincess]

Softness Suits You (Tech x GN! Reader)

Words: 2k Warnings: None - unless you count Kriff and Karabast as swearing. Note: Gender Neutral - Use of You and (Y/N) A part of the Bad Batch Gift Exchange @cloneficgiftexchange For: @theunderscorekinginyellow Prompt: "Softness Suits You"

“(Y/N),” called Tech, skidding to a halt as he rounded the corner. Blaster fire passed the corner mere seconds later. “Now is not the time to give up on me,” he commented, pulling you back to your feet. You’d slipped down the durasteel wall you’d been learning against with a sharp groan of pain, an arm tightly wound around your midsection, the other putting pressure on another unseen wound hidden beneath your armor and the layers of fabric. 

“Wasn’t the time for the plan to go wrong either,” (Y/N) voiced, recalling how the mission had gone sideways quickly. “We went over the plan five times,” you grumbled, blowing out an agonized sigh as the stabbing pain grew in strength. 

“I got the package, didn’t I?” responded Wrecker, the sound of blaster fire being exchanged echoing through the com. 

“Anyone injured?” came Hunter’s smokey voice. Omega’s innocent one followed, celebrating after hitting another target with her energy bow. Echo soon confirmed he and Wrecker were slightly banged up, but nothing serious. Their main problem was being pinned down. 

“(Y/N) got hit, unsure how serious it is,” announced Tech, seemingly ignoring your comment that you were okay. Even when it was evidently obvious you were anything but. You were losing blood, feeling dizzy and shaky, and could barely stand on your own two feet, and Tech had stated you looked paler than usual. 

“Tech, get (Y/N) back to the Marauder,” demanded Echo, his voice severe and unyielding. The job for Sid meant little compared to the life of a friend. 

“Omega will meet you there,” said Hunter. The young clone’s protests shortly followed his words. “That’s an order,” he added, slipping into a mix of his previous Sargent Mode and that of a protective father figure trying to protect their child and family. “The rest of us Plan 13.” 

“Oh yeah,” exclaimed Wrecker, launching into the attack on droids and mercenaries alike. The human wrecking ball wasted little time running head-first into the battle again. His actions a reminder of his days as a soldier of the GAR, back when everything was simpler before the dark times began to strangle the galaxy. 

“Oh brother,” mutters Echo before readying himself to rejoin the battle before him. Pushing aside the memories of the many food fights on Kamino before it was bombarded and forgotten about—memories of his brothers of the Domino Squad, 501st, and Bad Batch. 

“Ready?” asked Tech, placing his D17s in the holsters for the time being, reaching for your arm to pull you back to your feet. Directing the arm around his neck as his own snaked around your midsection. Hearing the sharpness in your breath as you began to limp forward. The pilot soon pulled the yellow-tinted screen of his helmet down, scanning you over to get a clear idea of the damage and injuries sustained.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” sarcastically asked (Y/N), your eyes glazing over as you become confused and disorientated. “Is it as bad as Crosshair’s friction burns from the Skako mission?” you asked with a light chuckle, wincing shortly after with the pain shooting through your ribs. 

“I would argue that was worse,” answered Tech, recalling Crosshair grumbling for days afterward—even more so when Wrecker refused to let him forget about it. “However, this is a close second,” he said, trying to keep your spirits up and offer a distraction from your injuries and dire state. 

“Damn. I was hoping to top him this time,” replied (Y/N), as if you had forgotten Crosshair wasn’t there. Instead, he had chosen to return to the Empire, even after they had bombarded Tipoca City with all of them inside. “Still working on that plan to get him back,” you add with the smallest of grins. 

“Crosshair … chose a different path. We have to accept that, even if we don’t agree with it,” spoke Tech with a prang of sadness. Thankful when the Marauder came into view, Omega was already on the steps, waving at them with a small smile of her own. At least until it hit her, Tech was all but keeping you up now. 

“What happened?” questioned Omega, quickly running back up the steps, moving to get the medical kit stowed away aboard the ship. At the same time, Tech pulled (Y/N) over to the sleeping racks upon getting you aboard. Nodding to Omega in thanks, when she brought the medical kit over to him, he reached for stem cells and bacta gel in hopes of aiding the healing process. 

“We could use a lift,” came the booming voice of Echo, the coms lighting up with the disagreement between the Arc Trooper, Hunter, and Wrecker. 

“That with or without Omega hanging from the ship and me falling out or over something?” asked (Y/N), doing your best to lighten the dreary mood and keep Omega from seeing just how bad things were. You had a soft spot for the kid and the boys. 

“It was an unscheduled study break,” Tech voiced in response. At least explaining Omega hanging from the ship. A smirk appeared across his lips upon remembering the two separate incidences regarding (Y/N) falling over something and falling from the ship completely. “And momentarily lapse in coordination.” 

“Just patching (Y/N) up, then we’ll be there,” announced Omega, keeping the trio of Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker in the loop. 

“This is going to hurt,” stated Tech, receiving a (Y/N) famous deadpan look in response. At least informing him, he was pointing out the obvious again, without calling the exceptionally minded clone by the normal nickname. Captain Obvious. 

“You mean more than it already does?” You asked, the next part of your comment forgotten as the bacta gel burned like someone had poured the lavas of Mustafar into your open wounds. “Kriff!” 

“Language” worded Wrecker via the comm link. 

“Aurebesh,” you replied, much to Omega’s amusement. Tech could only shake his head and roll his golden eyes. 

“Switch out the words, (Y/N),” spoke Hunter, once again the familiar sound of blaster fire following his words, hinting at the trouble the trio was in now. 

“Yes, Papa Hunter. Next time, I’ll use Karabast,” quickly shot (Y/N), not noticing Tech had stepped close with an anesthetic, at least not until he caught you with it. 

“Rest for now (Y/N). Omega and I can handle the extraction,” announced Tech. He made sure you were lying comfortably on his rack before heading to the cockpit with Omega. The young clone gave Gonky his own mission to watch over you while you slept. 

When (Y/N) finally woke up, the Marauder was on stable ground, and the ship was quiet—too quiet. The only noise was Gonky waddling the length of the ship with the normal “Gonk” on repeat, although the droid did seem to be pestering Tech, who sat at the communications desk just in front of the sleeping racks. 

“Where’s the others?” you asked with a cracked and broken voice. Your throat was dry and scratchy from the lack of use. Slowly, you moved your head to look around the ship. The cockpit was empty, void of Echo and Wrecker. The rear gunner's port had no Omega resting there, although Lula and her little clone trooper were. Hunter was nowhere to be seen either. Only Tech and Gonky were there. 

“Wrecker and Omega are following through with their tradition,” Tech replied, standing and walking over, an unreadable expression painted on his features. The moment he reached you, he placed a soft hand on your forehead, relief washing over him minutes later. "Hunter and Echo are delivering the package to Sid.” 

“How long was I out?” you asked. Then it hit you: You were no longer on Eadu but instead back on Ord Monell. 

“Just over a day,” started Tech, helping you sit up. “I’d appreciate it if we didn’t repeat what happened,” he added, pushing his goggles back up the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not gonna let you get shot, Tech, and I did tell you to leave me,” argued (Y/N), feeling relief now the majority of your pain was gone, either nulled by the anesthetic or washed away by the bacta healing the wounds. 

“We don’t leave our own behind,” stated Tech, a matter of factly, with a pointer finger raised, as if to drill it into your head and make it stick. “The others are fine as well. Wrecker still thinks the scans are invisible spiders,” he added, allowing his stiffness to melt a little upon hearing your small ring of laughter. 

“Hunter and Echo still the parents?” (Y/N) asked, side-eyeing and suspicious, just in case something had changed while you were out for the count. 

“Careful (Y/N), your softer side is showing,” joked Tech. “Either that, or you hit your head harder than I thought.” 

“Or I’m high as a kite and hallucinating,” you commented. 

“Not lost your sense of humor, " Echo said upon boarding the ship. A scratch now donning his cheek below the left eye. However, the worry plaguing him now seemed to melt away. 

“Mustafar would freeze over before that happened,” (Y/N) replied with a small smile, “Or Hoth would warm up.” You quietened for a few minutes before it hit you: Tech had said your soft side was showing. Didn’t it always when you were around your found family? “Wait, what you mean my softer side is showing?” you questioned, hearing Echo chuckle as he held his hands up in surrender before walking off to the cockpit. 

“I don’t mean to offend you,” started Tech, suddenly uncomfortable, even more so when his hopes of you missing his words were dashed. “Normally, when out in the field or around Sid, you appear like Crosshair, stoic, cold, and armed with snide comments for enemies and sarcastic ones to lighten the mood,” he rambled, hoping to explain away what he now saw as a blunder. 

“Tech,” you softly call, a sweet grin appearing now as you made it apparent you weren’t offended by the comment, merely curious. 

“I thought it was obvious. Softness suits you,” directed Tech, 

“Will you two make it official already?” voiced Wrecker as he and Omega returned to the ship. Hunter followed along behind, slightly confused by the comment but smirking nonetheless. 

“Way to ruin the mood, Wrecker,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m recruiting Omega to help terrorize you the next time you go speed dating.” 

“That was one time.” 

“Wrecker went speeding dating?” questioned Echo 

“Yup, It’s right up there with Hunter and Crosshair waking up handcuffed in a fountain,” you reply, hearing Omega laughing, 

“I hate your memory right now,” commented Hunter, his cheeks redding as he sat down at his normal spot. 

“Please do tell me more,” commented Echo, knowing he and Fives got up to some crazy things, along with Kix, Hardcase, and Jesse, things he often got a chuckle out of when he allowed himself to remember them. However, he wanted to know more about what the rest of the batch got up to during the war. 

“No! I’m gonna die of embarrassment,” replied Wrecker, recalling the speeding dating disaster. Their first shore leave after joining the war effort. (Y/N) as their Jedi had told them to have fun, not expecting to get a call from Fox informing you, your squad was spending the night in detention. 

“Wasn’t that bad” replied Tech, trying to soothe the situation. Although he’d admit you laughing from behind him wasn’t helping. 

“I want to hear about it,” Omega called, her sweet, innocent voice seemingly breaking through. Hunter and Wrecker shared a glance, knowing (Y/N) couldn’t deny the young clone anything, although, thankfully, you told the stories in a child-friendly way. 

“Was that the one I have no memory of?” asked Tech, recalling they’d gotten up to a lot of mischief. He’d personally set off a few security breaches from hacking sensitive information. Wrecker had set so many alarms off with his explosives that the Coruscant Guard had come to expect it and, at points, used it as a training exercise. Hunter and Crosshair found themselves in contests with different goals. Meanwhile, (Y/N) collectively named everything the Lame Game. 

“Yup,” replied (Y/N), popping the p. “Never did find out how you ended up black-out drunk under the booth table. Or why you were wearing Wolffe’s helmet?” You laughed. 

“Tech’s right; Softness does suit you,” replied Hunter, the smallest of grins appearing across his lips as he got comfortable, ready to relive the embarrassing moments of the past. “You’re still the best storyteller, though.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

[gonkys-database]

You Talk Too Much

Authors note: Sneaky hand jobs in the Marauder cockpit

Summary: Tech talks too much. You can fix that (set before Season 1)

Relationship: Tech/GN!Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: hand jobs, soft dom reader, soft sub Tech, getting naughty in the cockpit, Tech is a nerd for ships

Words: 1832

He was cute, in a way you never quite thought ship schematics could be. For all his battles, for all his knowledge as a clone, yet still managing to find the little pieces of awe and wonder in the neighbouring ships on docking platforms.

Hunter's orders were clear;

Stay behind and watch the Marauder with Tech. The rest would head into the HUBworld for supplies and procurement. Call if anything happens.

"That is a Consular-class cruiser! With a modified engine! Certainly not legal from the thruster count or-Oh! That is a refurbished Rho-class shuttle." Tech tittered from the command chair beside you, fingers a flurry of movement over the console to bring up the schematics on file to compare their neighbours ships against, zooming in and out as he went.

"Has anyone ever told you, that you talk to much?" You ask, hardly meaning it in a cruel way from how you relax in your seat, chin propped on a fist as you watch him zip between holograms like a child on Christmas with a new toy. 

"Frequently, actually" Is all you get back, Tech leaning forwards as a ship banked overhead to a nearby platform, name rather incomprehensible at how quickly it is muffled by the soft hum of the next hologram activating and the clone right into his next little chatter of pros and cons to its current upgrades.

Hunter said they'd be back within the hour ... You'd have plenty of time.

"And, how often have they done something about it?" You ask next, a boot coming over to the arm rest to hook the tow behind, gently spinning the engineer around to face you, lacing your fingers together over your knee to regard him.

"... I am not sure I follow?" Oh, bless him. Brains of the mission, clueless outside it.

"I am flirting, Tech" You can't help but chuckle as you see the little lightbulb blink on above his head, and hands slowly pull his lenses down over his face. 

"Oh. Oh, I see  ... Apologies" Well, the glasses might hide his blazing cheeks, but his ears are certainly that 'Bad Batch' signature red. Cute.

"... I can go keep watch outside. Don't worry about it" You offer at the way the cockpit fizzles into silence, Tech in some state of probable rebooting. You'd volunteer to help out wherever Tech wasn't if it causes any tension later. Blame confined spaces and good company. 

Pushing up from your chair with a grunt, a roll of shoulders at how close quarters this ship can be but its ... quaint, you decide as you turn to step down from the cockpit only to turn at a sharp little 'Wait!' behind you. A noise that you ever so slowly turn around to regard Tech about, a brow raised expectantly for the rest. He's spun completely around to face you, even if he can't seem to hold eye contact for a moment before his hands become the most interesting thing in the ship and bothered by imaginary lint or a fascinating scuff he hadn't noticed before.

"Uh, no. That, that won't be necessary" Tech murmurs, gaze constantly flicking up to and away from you behind his little lenses as he fidgets, slowly flicking through holograms as he finds his words. "I'm, uh ... I like that you listen to me?"

"Do the others not?"

"Not always. Echo, occasionally, but mostly, no?" 

"That is a shame. You have a nice voice" You hum, stepping back up into the cockpit and moving to take a seat once again. Tech was in the biggest one, and he certainly didn't take up much of it. It was far too easy to rest a knee between those twiggy thighs and brace an arm above his head on the backrest. "I wouldn't mind hearing a little more of it. What about that one? With the gold?"

"We ... Aren't facing the window"

"Good. I'd hate to share my view. Besides, you've seen every ship that has landed here since we arrived. I don't think you need to see it to know which one I mean." You purr, hand curling under his chin to tip it up to you, not about to let him hide that sweet little face.

"I-It's a H-2. Executive shuttle. Mostly for officials or diplomats" Tech whines, finger still curled under that gorgeous chin and thumb sweeping over that plush little lip before pulling him up for a sharp kiss. They weren't machines, even genetically modified and created humans were still humans. And even lab grown humans had reactions and needs. 

And this one was certainly needy.

"As I said, nice voice" You smirk, letting go of his chin to lean backwards, admiring how little it has taken to undo him. His grip on the arm rests likely will leave dents for the next occupant, he's flushed crimson down that markable throat into the collar of his blacks, and panting softly at getting enough space back to breathe again.

"First time on the ship. ... Or?" Oh, you could have quite a bit of fun based on the answer. 

"N-No, there is a bar. Coruscant. Back rooms... Supply closet" Comes the breathless answer, lean legs shifting under you as the engineer gets a little more comfortable, hands lifting to tug at his blacks collar to let a little more cooler air down there. Was ... Was it this hot in the cockpit, or just him? The thermal regulator says it was comfortable, but it felt like Mustafar up here!

"Good to know. And the blue and white ship?" You ask, noticing how he seems to fuss with the neckline of his blacks and decide it would be ever so cruel not to help him out a bit. 

Fingers curling under the hem of his blacks at the waist, carefully helping raise the fabric up and over his head, mindful of the lenses before pushing the fabric backwards over the backrest of the chair, arms stuck in the tight fabric to the upper arm, tugging faintly at his sudden restraints. Someone's headband would have been rather convenient, but one could always make do with their surroundings. Besides, he wouldn't damage the arm rests or his blacks worrying at them like this. It was quite cute to watch muscles tense and flex either side of his head as he tested how much flex and give he had. Not a lot.

Not that he'd have much thought process to set aside for testing his binds, tipping that chin up again for a graze of teeth along that flushed throat, trailing knuckles down a toned little abdomen to another hem, and resting over fabric to give a soft squeeze and tracing little patterns into the mesh. Oh, that hitch and groan above your ear was delightful, lenses pressing to your shoulder as his head tips forwards, and each little pant as you brush over somewhere sensitive is divine.

"It's a ... its ... ah" He's trembling, from the way the chair creaks at him pushing backwards to arch up, arms flexing in their confines unsure if he wants to hang on for dear life or push you backwards, but if he wasn't pink before he was now. He'd make the Emperial flag envious with his current shade.

"Its a ... what??" You croon, brushing the back of your fingers over the mesh beneath you, dancing nails up and down those quaking thighs and listening to the hitched inhales into your shoulder with each margin of fabric explored. The breathless moan into your neck at your hand slipping under the hem and fingers curling around him was probably the most vocal he's been tonight since you took a seat. 

He's sensitive. 

Understandably so, with a life under armour. Any and all registry to the brain would be armour plates shifting, the blacks doing most of the work as dampeners to the skin so, one could hardly blame him for the hitched keen as you start to move certainly checks out. Thumb tracing little circles over the head with each idle stroke, settling back on your knees to watch Tech.

He's beautiful; Head lolled to the side, flushed skin spreading along his chest and stomach, arms flexing where his hands likely fisted and strained at the sensory feedback, unable to help every moan and pant to escape his lips as you slide your hand along him, squeezing as you move downward if only to watch his expression as hips buck up towards you.

"... What was that?"

"Please" He whines, head tipping backward to thunk against the headrest as you squeeze again, legs shifting under you as booted heels dig into the flooring to push more of himself up to meet you.

"Good boy" You murmur, pleased even in his current state that Tech still has his manners. Even if it would have been cute to teach him some, how could you deny such a pleasant request? 

You catch him by the lips again, cornering every hiccup and moan against your lips as you find a pace that has him shaking and arching up against you, heels squeaking against the cockpit floor on ever press and downward stroke until he's silent. 

Lips parted in little rabbit breaths, hips bucking as he curls forward into your shoulder, seat creaking as arms strain to come forwards, and the little sound as warmth floods your hand is addicting. 

Twitching in your hand as he breaks, hot breaths ghost your neck as he sucks in desperate little breaths, and you love the way his body seems to convulse as you gently slide your thumb back and forth over the slick head. 

Just in time, that is the crew entering the spaceport again, over the headrest of the chair. You've got a few minutes before they'd reach the boarding ramp.

A soft little brush of lips to his throat, making a nice little mark against his collar bone as you help unhook his blacks from over the headrest, and you're freeing his arms from it as you rock back onto your feet, running the fabric through your fingers to toss over by their apparent 'laundry' section of the mess they called belongings as he slumps against you, starting to get lights on behind his eyes as he apparently takes a moment to reboot himself into a post orgasmic version of Tech... Its sweet. 

You've never seen that goofy little smile before. You could almost assume him drunk were it not for their location and the last hour in landing.

"Can you stand? .............. A grunt is not an answer, Ships. Can you stand?"

"I do believe so?" Comes the soft little wheeze the second time around, curling an arm under his arm to haul him up onto wobbly little legs with a comforting pat to clad little cheeks, guiding him down that step into the main galley and leaning in the doorway. 

"Hunter's stepped onto the platform, so we have about  .. eh, two minutes for you to put some new blacks on. Can't let the crew know you're actually fun" You grin.

"I'm always fun" Comes the little retort from somewhere near the bunks, storage lids clacking open and closed from around the corner in mission objective of right sized blacks. Perks of everyone aside Wrecker being somewhat like-sized? You could raid ‘wardrobes’.

"Course you are, Ships"

[kybercrystals94]

Regroup

(Part 3)

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

[Part 1 & Part 2]

Whumptober 2023 | Day 31 | Prompt 30: “It’s okay to say ‘I’m not okay.’” | Borrowed Clothing

Rating: T

Words: 1,555

Summary: Tech asks Omega about her past.

Omega helps Tech sit upright, then holds up a new shirt. Tech stares at it quizzically, and Omega smiles. “It’s one of Wrecker’s. Something loose.”

Tech makes a face but relents to Omega slipping the borrowed shirt over his head. “At least tell me it’s clean.”

“It was in his drawer.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Omega releases a tight laugh, and helps Tech find the arms of the shirt as he tries not to disturb the fresh bandages. When she moves to help him to his feet, he realizes how lightheaded he still is, vision going grey. He stumbles forward, and Omega catches him, pressing small hands against his chest to keep him upright. Tech grips the arm of the pilot’s chair. “I will be alright once I’m seated,” he says.

He doesn’t see if Omega nods, but she doesn’t verbally agree. She holds his forearm and steadies him until he finds the chair seat and sits down. His vision clears enough that he can see the waiting message light on the console. The coordinates.

“You will be my copilot, Omega,” Tech says, turning slowly to face forward. “I’ll try to give you clear instructions, but please let me know if you need further clarification.”

He hears the copilot’s seat shift and squeak next to him as Omega climbs into it. She says, “Are you sure you’re alright to fly?”

“We don’t have any other options, unfortunately,” Tech says.

Tech opens the coordinates and transfers them to the ship’s nav system. He can’t quite make out the screen’s ETA reading, his vision still unbalanced, everything shifting in and out of focus. If he hadn’t lost so much blood, this would have been substantially easier.

“Alright, Miss Omega,” he says, putting as much confidence as he can muster into the reedy sound of his voice. “We are going to prepare for the jump into hyperspace.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The Marauder’s familiar output of energy presses against his senses, drawing Hunter’s attention skyward. “Get ready, Wreck,” he says to his brother. “Our ride’s here.”

“About kriffing time,” Wrecker huffs, shifting at Hunter’s side. They’d found unfortunately tight quarters to take cover in while they waited for their siblings to show up.

Tech’s voice filters through their comms. “Approaching your location. Prepare to board.”

“Roger that,” Hunter replies, relieved to hear that some strength has returned to Tech’s voice.

The ship glides into view with the recognizable reckless ease of Tech’s hand at the helm. The ramp lowers, and Omega is leaning out, waving to them. Hunter and Wrecker break from their cover, running for the ship. As soon as their boots are clambering up the ramp, Omega calls out, “We got them, Tech!”

There is a sound of reply, and the ship begins to lift along with the ramp behind them.

“Are you both alright?” Omega asks them worriedly.

“We’re fine.” Hunter takes off his helmet, looking down at the girl with his own eyes. The scent of blood immediately assaults his senses, and his eyes go wide when he sees that her clothes are stained with blooms of deep red. “Are you hurt?” he asks, kneeling to her level to check for himself.

Omega quickly shakes her head, pulling away. “I’m okay. It’s Tech. One of the mercenaries got him in the side with a blade. It wasn’t deep, and I was able to do sutures. But he shouldn’t be flying.” She glances warily toward the cockpit.

Hunter nods sharply, standing and making his way to the front of the ship. He hears Wrecker behind him, double checking that Omega isn’t hurt, his booming voice gentle.

“Tech?” Hunter asks as soon as he comes into the space.

His brother turns his head slightly and slowly, as though even the small movement is taxing. “Hunter,” he says, voice thin, “I think it would be best if you took over.”

Hunter slips into the copilot’s seat, switching over main controls to his side. He calls over his shoulder. “Wrecker! Come get Tech.”

“I think I’m more than capable of just sitting here,” Tech protests.

“How about you let me decide on that, trooper,” Hunter returns firmly. “You’re on bed rest until we can check you over.”

Hunter glances over in time to see Tech weakly roll his eyes, and Hunter knows that he’s going to be okay.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“Omega, I wondered if I might ask you a question.”

The words are spoken into a comfortable stillness that has settled over the Marauder. Although Omega still isn’t exactly sure how they pulled it off, their brothers were retrieved, just as Tech had promised. Now, Wrecker and Hunter are in the cockpit, having banished Tech to the bunk room to rest, and Omega has been appointed as his guardian to make sure he actually does.

She sits in a nest of blankets on the floor by his bunk, data pad propped on her knees, reading through the lesson plan Tech made for her a few days ago. Omega looks up at the strange request. Tech doesn’t usually ask questions...he answers them. And the questions he does ask are typically rhetorical.

Omega has a feeling she isn’t going to like this question.

“Sure,” she says, trying to keep her voice light.

Tech hesitates. Another anomaly to his character.

Dread finds a hold, claws digging into the pit of her stomach. Omega knows she isn’t going to like this question.

“I seem to have inadvertently upset you earlier,” Tech begins. He doesn’t look at her face, but something just over her head. “When I commented about your medical training.” His flicker to hers briefly. “I wondered if you might help me understand why that upset you?”

Omega swallows and she finds herself gripping fistfuls of soft blankets, data pad forgotten in her lap. She knows her brother is only concerned about her, wants to comprehend her better; however, the question opens a childhood of secrets she’s tried so hard to keep hidden. She wants to be happy. To forget what was, embrace what is.

Her brothers are her world now.

Not Kamino, not Nala Se. Not anymore.

Telling Tech will cause these worlds to collide, and she will never, ever be able to separate the pieces again. But then words echo back to her, words Tech said just before he passed out, putting his life quite literally in her hands. I trust you.

And she trusts him. All of them. With quite literally her life.

A deep breath. A slow exhale. “I haven’t told anyone this before,” she says, “but I trust you.”

Tech is watching her, and she sees his calculating gaze soften with her words.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter finds Tech still awake hours after Omega has gone to bed. He watches him from the bunkroom doorway for a moment, observing the furious way Tech is pouring over whatever he is reading on his data pad.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Tech visibly startles, then mutters a curse, hand going to the place he was slashed earlier that day. “I was feeling fine until you came in,” he tells Hunter irritably.

Hunter grins apologetically. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me...I wasn’t paying attention and your sudden presence caught me off guard,” Tech responds, voice stiff.

Hunter rolls his eyes, but lets the matter drop, entering the room fully. “You seem upset about something. What’s up?”

Tech’s frown deepens. “Omega and I had a discussion about what her medical training on Kamino entailed. From what she describes...” Tech trails off, looking down at his data pad.

“Tech,” Hunter prompts, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.

Tech doesn’t look up, fingers gripping the data pad so tight his knuckles pale. “She’s just a child, Hunter. The assignments Nala Se had her complete to practice medical procedures...fully mature medics would be haunted by. She worked with cadavers, Hunter. Deceased clones! She said she still clearly remembers how cold they felt.” Tech is angry. Furious. Hunter can hear the fire eating at the frayed edges his carefully even voice.

It is catching.

Hunter feels the rage boil in his mutilated blood cells, but before he can articulate the words to voice his absolute disgust in their sadistic creators, Tech speaks again.

“And then I so callously called on her to utilize her skills,” Tech says, fevered tone redirected. He distractedly puts a hand back over the wound. “She should never have been put in that position. If I had been more attentive to our surroundings during the mission, none of this would have happened.” His hand curls into a fist.

“But it did happen,” Hunter says, carefully regulating his temper, not wanting Tech to think for even an instant it is directed at him. He sits down on the edge of the bunk, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “I hate what Omega had to go through before we found her, but I am thankful she was prepared to do what needed to be done to save our brother’s life.”

He hears Tech swallow, a painful, emotional sound. “I am thankful as well…” he admits hoarsely. “Without her, we would not have been able to return to retrieve you and Wrecker.”

“And we have her now,” Hunter says, “she’s under our protection.”

“With our lives need be,” Tech agrees.

END

Author’s Note: Wow! The end of Whumptober 2023! I can’t believe I actually did it…31 prompts in 31 days! But I so very honestly couldn’t have done it without all the kind words and support from those who read, commented, liked and reblogged (both on Tumblr & Ao3) all my crazy, random, traumatizing stories…so a HUGE thank you to all you wonderful people! This community is the best, and I am so happy to have had the opportunity to share my love of writing and Star Wars with you all!

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!✨

[softlifesofttech]

002 Excerpt

“My mama say education will give me a voice. I want more than just a voice, Ms. Tia. I want a louding voice,” I say. “I want to enter a room and people will hear me even before I open my mouth to be speaking. I want to live in this life and help many people so that when I grow old and die, I will still be living through the people I am helping.”

The Girl with the Louding Voice, Abi Daré

[lecialucille]

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

[adh-d2]

The dad and the dog he didn't want 😭

[natsumipocket]

[blistexenthusiast]

Jenny Holzer, Selection From Under A Rock 1986

[nekomimiyu]

[i2042]

Headphone/Headset Horn Futuristic Headband AERIAL-B015

Headphone/Headset Horn Antenna Futuristic Headband AERIAL-K4

by FAProjectStore

[maestro030403]

Crosshair: As a whole, this squad babies Omega way too much

Hunter:

Wrecker:

Echo:

Tech *not looking up from his datapad*: Says the one letting her sleep on his lap

Crosshair: you're right *pushes a sleeping Omega off his lap and onto the floor*

[thisischeri]

instagram: cheri.png

[m-eltdown]

[princessantisocial]

hello kitty okwap a263 flip phone ˖ ࣪⊹

[softlifesofttech]

Isn't being scared of AI kind of... cliché?

Social media has recently been flooded with perfectly crafted art facilitated by Midjourney AI software. And with this many of us have now become privy to the niche which is AI Art. The capabilities of these programs are immeasurable but with time we are starting to see the possibilities. From the both captivating and harrowing feeling that follows laying your eyes on an AI rendering of heaven to the pit that forms in your stomach realising the people in an image never actually existed.

AI stands for Artificial Intelligence and it is the simulation of human intelligence through the use of machines. This branch of computer science focuses on the desire to produce machines that mimic humans in the way we perceive, synthesise and infer information. The vastness of data that is generated by all facets of society makes it humanly impossible to process at a rate that brings any value, hence, AI. 

AI can be split into three subcategories, artificial narrow intelligence which is limited or focused intelligence. Artificial general intelligence which levels with human abilities and then artificial superintelligence which surpasses it. We experience AI and its differing levels everyday, most namely, Apples Siri. AI art is just another subdivision in a grand library of capabilities.

The inception of software like Midjourney have spurred debate after debate. Some including the potential for AI art to be used to deceive or mislead people, AI art ownership, surveillance, the displacement of human artists and so on.

Polaroid images of black heavy metal girls in the late 90s surfaced and underneath peoples curiosity was a level of fear, and rightly so, due to their realistic nature. This gives us a peak into the very real potential for AI art to be used to deceive or mislead people. AI-generated art or media could be used to create fake news or propaganda, or to impersonate real people or organisations. This could have serious consequences, as people may not realise that they are being shown falsehoods. And in some instances, may act based on false information. The manipulation of history is not a new concept, nor is the photoshopping of images a boundary that has not been crossed. The idea that what we perceive may be simply manufactured is justifiably a cause for concern. As of now, its always the hands. That is the immediate tell tell when staring at these  AI-generated images but what if at some point it stops being the hands. 

Another ethical issue with AI art is the potential for it to perpetuate and amplify biases and discrimination. AI algorithms are only as unbiased as the data they are trained on, and if the data used to train an AI art system is biased, the resulting art will reflect this. The implication of this is the us of AI art to reinforce negative stereotypes or to exclude certain groups of people. And we must be honest with ourselves, there is a bias that has mangled existing AI systems even before the emergence and popularisation of AI art, however, it sells. If the bias proves lucrative there's no incentive to rectify it or retrain with new data. Some things may seem broken but that is exactly how they want it.

When discussing ethical issues regarding AI art we must not overlook the surveillance piece. AI art systems, like many systems and services, could be used to track people's movements or to gather sensitive personal information, potentially violating their privacy rights. More often than not, people are not aware that their activities are being monitored or that their personal information is being collected. Often users have to create an account or log in from existing social media. This provides leeway in guidelines that are all too often overlooked and then exploited.

An issue of popular debate and at the forefront is the exploitation the labour of human creators. As it stands, AI art systems such as Lensa are used by consumers to generate content at which they pay a fee. This occurs without compensating the human creators who trained or fed the data to the system. This then links to the potential for AI art to displace human artists. As AI art systems become more sophisticated and widespread, consumers will turn to them to create art more efficiently and at a lower cost than human artists, potentially leading to job loss.

In conclusion, the ethics of AI art is a complex and multifaceted issue that raises a number of important questions and concerns. These ethical issues highlight the importance of considering the potential consequences of AI art and taking steps to ensure that it is used ethically and responsibly. This may involve establishing ethical guidelines for the development and use of AI art, as well as ensuring that human creators are fairly compensated and that the rights and interests of all stakeholders are considered.