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[jetii]

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit. 

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson. 

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to. 

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster. 

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you. 

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open. 

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell. 

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust. 

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it. 

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you. 

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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[seat-safety-switch]

Yeah, I worked on The Machine. And, as I pried open its secret compartments and loosened its wiring harness and decrypted its memories, it worked on me also. Deep within its many hidden copses lay immense knowledge, unknown to all but those who formed it. Who built The Machine? No one knows. Everyone knows. I know. Now that The Machine works again, the person who last built it was me.

For years, I was a humble regular home-gamer mechanic. Something around the house would break. For the sake of argument, we'll use as an example the time my microwave blew up when I opened the door. One morning, it just went pop and never worked again. Well, at least until I fixed it. It turns out that the door had a little microswitch inside, and that microswitch got gummy with aerosolized food goo. Because it was gummed up, it wouldn't switch the computer off in time when I opened the door. That would be dangerous: I could get a full face shot of microwaves from the still-running magnetron. A safety interlock fired, and blew the brains out of the big fuse controlling the magnetron. It died for me. Replacing the switch, and the fuse, brought that microwave back to life. I did many such repairs. I was not prepared for this repair.

Fix after fix, I built up my confidence, and I got cockier. I'd pull broken machines out of the trash, mysterious foreign computers from another country. Some things escaped my grasp, and slipped further into oblivion. Most, though: most, I pulled back from the brink, and forced them to live again. That's when I found The Machine.

It was beautiful, intricate: thousands of parts, wedged together tighter than I had ever seen before, and a cryptic fault at the centre of it. When you cram together this much stuff, the complexity doesn't just add: it multiplies. To aid me, I looked for a guide, a factory service manual. The manufacturer laughed. The manufacturer's representative laughed. Someone who made it, who I tracked down on LinkedIn, hung up on me and refused to answer his door when I visited. Weeks later, he was gone, "dead" in a suspiciously convenient accident, a body left behind at the edge of his bleach-washed property with no identifying marks or fingerprints. I got the message: I was on my own.

This little wire just came unplugged. I guess someone must have dropped it. All better now.

[transgenderer]

an important aspect of modern life is that none of us can function alone. we all rely on things we ourselves could not create, and which would not even be viable to exist if it werent for economies of scale. and its not just that some things are like this, *most* things are like this. almost everything is like this. even clothes are like this! trying to make a single article of modern clothing, from start to finish, without buying products someone else manufactured at any stage, would be totally impossible

but thats material constraints. you could certainly *understand* every part of the clothing making process. and this is true of most manufactured products, before like, 1970. but with the rise of computer technology, even that isnt true anymore! for any practical consumer device, nobody in the world understands every part of its functioning. its got decades of accumulated knowledge, in pure abstracted form, bound up in its wiring. a computer is a machine that uses fossilized human knowledge as its gears, and its too big for the human mind

[najia-cooks]

[ID: One puffy circle of bread, and three which have been halved to show an internal pocket, on a striped blue and white kitchen towel. End ID]

خبز الكماج / Khubiz al-kmaj (Palestinian flatbread)

Khubiz al-kmaj is a thin flatbread with an internal pocket. It is commonly eaten with breakfast to scoop up dips such as hummus, used to eat stews, served alongside main dishes, and used to make sandwiches and to wrap falafel. "خُبْز," pronounced "khubz" or (in Levantine varieties of Arabic) "khubiz," comes from the root خ ب ز (kh-b-z), which also produces the word "خَبَزَ" "khabaza" (Levantine: "خَبَز" "khabaz"), "to bake."‎

This bread is eaten across the Levant and in Greece, with slight differences in terminology and style. It is variously called "خُبْز العَرَبِيّ" (khubz al-'arabiyy; Arabian bread), "خُبْز "البَلَدِيّ (khubz al-baladiyy; bread from my country), or (occasionally) "خُبْز البيتة" or "البيتا" (khubz al-bita), a borrowing from "pita." ("Pita" itself is perhaps from Greek "πίτα" "pita," or the modern Hebrew "פיתה.") The bread is referred to as "khubiz al-kmaj" in Palestine, from the Turkic "kömeç" / كُمَجْ‎ ("bread baked in ashes"). The collective term for the bread in general is كماج (kmāj); each individual piece of bread is referred to with the singulative "كماجة‎" (kmāja).

Today, kmaj is frequently made with white flour; some people add olive oil or milk powder to ensure a very soft dough. Leila el-Haddad writes that a more traditional method omits milk and uses whole white spring wheat, a whiteish wheat grain harvested in late spring and ground without removing the bran.

Since the late 20th century, many Palestinian households have used an electric cooker (طنجرة الكهرباء; ṭanjara al-kahrabā') to cook kmaj, placing one kmaja inside of the chamber and one on top and allowing both to bake at the same time. These aluminum and tin cookers, which were invented in Gaza and became popular there during the first intifada in the late 1980s, are designed to route electricity through a metal pipe or spiral wire on the underside of their lids, heating both the top and the inside of the cooker simultaneously.

The cookers' popularity can be attributed in part to a curfew that Israel imposed on Gazan refugee camps during the intifada, supposedly in an attempt to restrict the movements of resistance fighters. Refugees in the Jabalia camp in the north, for example, unable to afford home stoves, and without the necessary outdoor space to make familial clay ovens, would have to wait in line for hours every day to get bread from shared ovens, risking curfew violations; household electric cookers were far more convenient. The success of local industry and innovation in the form of Gazan-manufactured technology was also symbolically and strategically important during the first intifada, in which Palestinians employed strikes and boycotts (largely organized by women) of Israeli companies and goods as a strategy of resistance to occupation.

An electric cooker is still today considered a very important tool, as it spares families the need to purchase kmaj (the price of which was soaring compared to the cost of flour in the 2010s, and which was often of inferior quality compared to what could be made at home). They are frequently given as wedding or housewarming presents. Lack of access to electricity, though, imposes a limiting condition on the usage of these cookers, as Israel has for over a decade strangled the flow of power to Gaza: Abier Almasri wrote in 2017 that tasks such as cooking and laundry had to be rushed during the four or so hours a day when electricity was available. In this environment, electric cookers are useful in that they can prepare a lot of bread in a short period of time. Fathia Radwan said in 2022 that she would wake up early, after the nightly power outage, to prepare more than 100 loaves of bread at a time for her family of nine.

Today, the taxes that Israel levies on imports of raw materials into Gaza makes the cost of new electric cookers, which sometimes exceeds 120 shekels (37 USD), too expensive for some families to afford. The difficulty and expense of importing materials, and the impossibility of exporting goods to foreign markets with the advent of the 2007 siege, also limit the number of factories in Gaza that are able to manufacture these cooking pots. The aluminum industry, introduced to Gaza in the 1960s and once the basis of a manufacturing and economic renaissance in the region, deteriorated as a result of the siege, as factories were no longer able to export goods to the West Bank and were newly reliant on imports of raw materials from Egypt. Even parts to repair electric cookers are expensive, due to a tax levied on items judged by Israel to have a "dual," i.e. a possible civilian and military, use.

Still, repairman Iyad Faraj estimates that over half the homes in Gaza have and use an electric cooker, as maintaining, repairing, and operating one is cheaper than having a gas pipe installed (at 68 shekels, 20 USD) and purchasing gas. Electric pots thus stand in many homes as both a utilitarian item, and a symbol of Palestinian ingenuity and resistance to Israel's attempts at impoverishment and starvation.

Support Palestinian resistance by contributing to Palestine Action’s bail fund or to Palestine Legal’s defence fund, by attending court or making a sign to support the Elbit Eight, or by buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza.

Ingredients:

500g (4 cups + 3 Tbsp) white whole wheat (spring) flour

1/2 Tbsp (5g) active dry yeast

1/2 Tbsp (6.25g) vegetarian granulated sugar

1/2 Tbsp (7.25g) kosher salt

About 2 1/4 cups (530mL) room-temperature water, divided

Olive oil

White whole wheat flour is flour that has a white color once ground, despite the fact that it includes both the bran and the germ of the wheatberry. It is milled from white spring wheat (so named because it is harvested in late spring).

You may instead mix white all-purpose flour and brown whole wheat flour in your desired proportion. Keep in mind that whole wheat flour will need more water and more kneading than white flour. If you’re using all white flour, you will need about 1 1/4 cup (300mL) water.

Instructions:

1. Mix flour, yeast, sugar, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add water gradually until dry ingredients come together into a sticky dough.

2. Knead the dough on the countertop or in a wide, shallow bowl until smooth, about 5 minutes. (If using whole wheat or white whole wheat flour) continue incorporating water into the dough as you knead to maintain a tacky texture.

3. Fold the dough into a ball and return to the bowl, seam-side down. Pat the top of the dough with some olive oil, cover the bowl, and let rise for an hour.

4. Pinch the dough into about 8 balls of equal size (about 110g each). Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

5. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each ball of dough into a circle about 1/4" (1/2cm) in thickness. Set dough circles on a surface prepared with parchment paper and cover closely with a kitchen towel or plastic wrap. Let rest and ferment for at least 1 and up to 10 hours.

An overnight rest is traditional in Palestine and will create a more complex flavor in the bread (see note below).

6. Remove each circle of dough from its resting place with a metal spatula and roll it out to a 1/4” thickness again. Preheat a baking stone or sheet in the top third of an oven at 500 °F (260 °C), and then cook breads in the oven for three minutes, until large bubbles have begun to form.

7. Flip bread over and cook for another 3 minutes on the other side, until golden brown and puffed up completely.

8. Wrap breads in a kitchen towel or tea towel and allow to steam for a few minutes while the others cook.

Notes

The climate where I live is dry enough that I have discovered a risk of my breads becoming crackers if I leave them out overnight. The dried-out flatbread does puff up in the oven, but the resulting product is not as nice and fluffy as it should be.

Through experimentation, I have found the best method of both preventing drying out and guaranteeing that the flatbreads will puff up during cooking the next day is:

1. Roll out the dough and place dough circles on a lightly oiled surface. Cover them closely with lightly oiled plastic wrap.

2. The next day, fold dough circles back into balls. Place seam-side down and roll out again on a lightly floured surface.

3. Bake as described above.

If you live in a humid environment, the first instructions given in the recipe above should work for you.

[srbachchan]

DAY 6033

Jalsa, Mumbai Aug 24, 2024 Sat 11:37 PM

Birthday EF - Sumit Goyal Sunday, 25 August ... our wishes for this special day and greetings 🌹

.. and finally a day of rest , and the uncertainties it brings along .. they be the dilemma of how to use the spare time .. when there is none there is thought of doing the many chores in the time of the day off , but when it comes , the prefer is to 'let's keep it for another day' ..

.. the mind plays games and we succumb to it .. or vice versa .. more often vice versa 🤣🤣

and when the mind falters , it reaches out to the greatest legacy left behind by Babuji - his writings .. !

and ..

" दान कोष में मेरा दान नगण्य ही है । दान को स्मरण कर उसे और नगण्य क्यों बनाऊँ ? दान देकर उसे भूल जाना चाहिए ! "

नगण्य : जिसका महत्व न हो

In the response to a letter written to him and the question asked whether he has contributed to charity -

he responded that his contributions have been of little value .. his meagre salary could hardly afford any substantial amount .. but he says that

" why should I think of the donation or contribution made - thinking of it will give it even lesser value ..

give and then forget about it "

And the well wishers and dear discuss the ways and means of putting my thoughts to the world at large .. of my manufactured music .. of my readings of the works of Babuji .. and such like ..

But the discuss is without any form or has any firmament .. where and how to do it .. who to go for advice .. commerce keeps crawling in , an entity I abhor .. so how ..

they give examples of many others and how they make it an earning .. but that sets many wires wringing within of disapproval ..

work hard .. and earn a living .. earnings should have the sweat and tears and the blood of effort .. is what Babuji ever believed in and imparted too ..

And I try to be that each day .. how long I do not know .. !!

Aug 25 , 2024 at 1:16 pm

🪔 ,

August 25 .. birthday greetings to Ef Sumit Goyal .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

August 24 .. belated birthday greetings to Ef Shubham Maheshwari from Indore .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

August 23 .. belated birthday greetings to Ef Hardik Shah .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

August 22 ..belated birthday greetings to Ef Atul Ojhal Dube .. and Ef Sahana Padaki .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

August 21 .. belated birthday greetings to Ef Ajaz Ahmed from London - UK 🇬🇧 .. and Ef Yogesh Pakash Pachange from Pune .. your birthday on August 21 not August 20 .. we were mistaken in the date .. apologies ..

August 20 .. belated birthday greetings to Ef Nermeen Elshazly from Egypt 🇪🇬 .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

August 19 .. belated birthday greetings to Ef Chandu Josyula from Vizag .. Ef Jatan Sanghvi .. and Ef Sachin Kotulkar from Pune .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

Amitabh Bachchan

[mantisgodsart]

@bug-oc... round ONE! Finally! Still counting this as "round one" of transmutations because of the blog round numbers despite the fact that we've already done a round of like two bugs! We... didn't realize how many of these characters were yellow until it was actually time to draw them. It's like we went in with a theme, and then stuck to it. Except for with Holly, who presumably lost the dress code along with their head. Please vote for our cool dune cricket in the handful of hours before this round ends, and thank you!

Individual characters and transmutation notes below cut.

[...though I briefly considered another form, limiting surface area relative to the size of the entity is crucial for stability in ectoplasmic entities, and I don't currently intend to attempt to form a "swarm", as similar entities often form in the wild - a more simple, and thus more stable, form is better. The energy pack in the subject's possession upon intake appears to be either nearly or fully impossible to reclaim, unfortunately - ghosts can be hard to separate from things with sentimental value, so it's likely a lost cause. I'll continue obsevation...]

Beera by @longeth-dayv. An actual design, this time, rather than our fucking-around-with-maybes! This one, we think, does a lot more for the actual character, though from our understanding of Luigi's Mansion the species choice might be slightly more "generic". We particularly enjoyed tinkering with the wire of the power pack - ghosts and transparent things are VERY fun to draw, and we liked working out where that wire would go in the areas normally hidden by the body. Long, winding lines are very fun to draw sometimes. Hopefully this one works better for you, too!

[...successful partial isolation of the fungal element proves both that it can be isolated and that transmutation of cordyceps symbiotes may be less of a barrier than previously thought. Results appear similar to "Moka" back in the first year of experiments, where the cordyceps remains untransmuted within the new body - is this a quirk unique to vertebrate physiology? The failed transmutation with Fulminis pulled from a largely bug pool, whilst both successful cordyceps transmutations have been with beasts.]

[The avian physiology doesn't seem to have produced much difference from reptilian, minus some differences in visible fungal growth, but the subjects started with varying quantities of visible fungal growth to begin with, and the magic present in both of the previous round's subjects presents an additional variable... at the very least, I know that the fungus on its own is either resistant or immune to conventional transmutation, considering Mop, though I still need to work out how the host-symbiote synthesis alters things...]

[I'll have to do further testing- I dearly wish that these subjects were easier to get my hands on, but I don't know where I would be able to source them in my own universe, much less if they even exist there, since I'm no longer certain if the time portal event through which I met Holly Holiyxeiul was from the past of my universe, the past of another universe, or the present of somewhere else. Omelette's successful transmutation proves that I can manufacture them, but I won't be certain as to the limits of this until I can collect samples...]

Butterscotch from @w-krajobrazie-zapomnienia. The wings on this took... FOREVER. Deciding to make Butterscotch a bird with individual "charring" on the feathers was an act of monumental hubris, and EASILY the most labor-intensive part of this page. Doing this in watercolor would have been easier, probably. Alas, if we want to be capable of using a marker, we must put effort into marker drawing. At the very least, we think the effect came out fairly well! We like the sort of "scorched" effect that Butterscotch's base design has, and though difficult to recreate in marker form, we think we pulled it off! Hope this works decently well for you.

[...expanding lizard experiments from the ones found in the former grounds of Five Pebbles to their closest resemblances in the fleshbeasts of our world, I found quite a few points of similarity. Though for obvious reasons, I haven't had the opportunity to observe any specimens of the original species, given that most vertebrate beasts have been extinct since before I was hatched, the underlying biology is similar enough that I could carry through a significant amount of understanding forward.]

[Though majority of traits seem typical for what I can observe from preserved specimens, I am noting some minor divergences - typical for the lizards of RW9089-1, but not, as far as I know, typical for the reptiles that once roamed the wastes. The subject has developed sensory whiskers, narrower than those observed on Black Lizards but seeming to serve a similar function of detecting scent and motion in the air.]

[Additionally, the subject has developed a short coat of setae across the back, with a similar texture to the subject's former ruff - some surface-level similarities have been found to the hair on the pelts of Northern Moths, particularly those found in areas where significant quantities of water make leviathans a dietary staple. Though fur "coats" can be found in RW-9089-1 specimens such as Strawberry Lizards, this trait is, as far as I can tell, unique to this specimen.]

[When following up, I'll want to examine the dorsal frills to be certain that former shape's traits are not overwriting the end shape's traits to too significant of a degree - this is not an unknown trait in salamanders, but I'll need to be certain the structure isn't too similar to insect wing structure, as this many traits carrying over may indicate mid-point speciesation, which will mean any parts harvested will have wholly different traits from the originally sourced...]

Lote from @fallenvoidhere! We went through a handful of design iterations on this, mostly trying to home in on making it clear that it's the character - we sort of underestimated how much blue we'd need to add, but when you're turning into a lizard several times your normal size, it's probably understandable to lose a lot of your accessories…? Since the black on the design, respectively, is mostly accessories, most of these markings are improvised - we based our placement at least partially off of an orca whale, after going through a lot of markings from IRL salamanders. Originally, we planned to make the wing further in to the body a bit more transparent, but… well, as it turns out, we're probably a bit too used to watercolors for our own good, and working with markers is a bit of a different beast. We still think it came out pretty decent!

[...previously noted properties of fireflies appear to ease the rougher edges of this, though it will still need some refining before it's ready to go to market. A working prototype is better than I've gotten with previous generations of this recipe. I'll have to spend some time going over the readings to work out how to route things on anything that isn't a firefly.]

[With the way that most of these particular transmutations have gone, forming a "chamber" for the light before the light-producing compound itself is produced appears to be key for the survivablity of the subject. I suspect that there's a reason that the gas compound found in the component-introduction artefact hasn't been found in natural beings; despite the multitude of uses it has in charmcraft, mercury tends to be quite toxic with continual exposure, and mercury vapor in particular can be deadly. Another reason to stick to proper PPE..]

Nox from @erijuice! This one's quite a dramatic modification to the body plan. We may have gotten a bit carried away with things here, but... okay listen we will be fully honest with you this is just an elaborate plan on "glow wyrm". We based this one heavily off of tatzulwurms and similar creatures, and from there mostly just went into "having fun with it". The wings might grow in more later, or they might not - this was one of our personal favorite designs to draw, and though we sort of wish we tinkered with the pose a bit more, it's a bit hard to do here without running into issues with... space. Such is the consequence of making a big page o' transmuted bugs.

[...more experimental brews have their pros and cons, and with this one, it's a bit hard to define which is more present. On the plus side, the resulting form seems stable; lack of mandibles aside, it's standing and walking, and seems in fine health from the readings that I can see. Subject is alert and appears to have either full or very close to full former cognitive capacity, as shown by the multiple attempts at escape via manipulating the lock. It's just that I don't have the slightest clue what it is, or how its biology... works.]

[I intend to collect samples once the transmutation settles enough for properties to solidify. From initial testing, I think that its digestive system may rely partially on the fur-like... appendages, on its ventral side, but it's presently somewhat unclear. Upon coming into contact with some spare biological waste (see: Vessel project, Voidless transmutation attempts), the material appeared to "tangle" in the ventral fur, and was gradually dissolved over the course of about eighteen hours. From what I can gather of the data, this appears to have given off similar readings to a more conventional being having eaten a large meal? Will test with other forms of biological material once I can gather enough material to recreate the end organism if existing subject is lost.]

Yasmine from @darth-moth - and this is one that was very fun to do! The lines in this were very, VERY fun to work with, and we had quite a lot of fun just banging this out! - the design here is, probably fairly obviously, based heavily on Rain World's Rain Deer, as well as the multitude of "creepy deer" type stories that are practically everywhere on the internet. We were tinkering, if vaguely, with the concept of something like a terrestrial filter feeder, or similar - did you know that some whales have begun hunting behavior of pretending to be shelter so that fish will hide in their mouths and, thus, be eaten?

We'd picture that this, whatever it is, wanders places and passively snags prey with the dangling "fur", avoiding any sort of need for energy-intensive chases while keeping itself fed on whatever it walks over. A passive scavenger, probably with not a lot in terms of personal self defense. The vents on the sides, though they might be slightly unclear as is, are just about the only active method of offense - releasing toxic gas or something similar in an attempt to choke out predators. Our greatest desire in life is to design enemies for a soulslike poison swamp and we think that Yasmine is an excellent poison swamp candidate. We hope that this is a normal and usual motivation and ambition to have, we had a lot of fun with it.

[...uncontrolled crystal growth took over before the transmutation had completed, at roughly 4 days, 8 hours after the initial administration of the formula. I was lucky to be awake at the time - the remote monitor that I imbedded appears to have been consumed by the same phenomenon shortly before my arrival. I can only assume that this is due to pre-existing contamination - if not accounted for, Crystals can react very unpredictably to transmutations, and I didn't account for contamination of this assumed level.]

[Though I've observed this sort of effect before, it's been years since I've experienced a bloom of nearly this extent. What really surprises me is that the subject appears to still be moving, despite the extensive damage to... everything. The head appeared to have been fully destroyed at the time of arrival, and the crystals sprouting from the back have to have gone right through the ganglia - the weave of the transmutation has been fully destroyed, so it can't be sustaining itself on the former body's imprint, so I can only assume that the crystals captured some of the host body's mind during the overgrowth event and are attempting to continue to run the same old patterns of behavior.]

[I am currently unclear on how much of the former bug remains. What scans that I've taken suggest that the new crystals may have linked up with their companion Warden, though to what degree is still unclear. If I want to properly analyze this, I'll need to take it back to the lab. From there... diagnosis work, and maybe trying to work out how poor Snakemouth Den's lab security is, really.]

Holly from @thetroupemaster! Our first transmutation failure of the tournament! Holly, unfortunately, fell victim to poor lab safety - a more open-ended formula intended to gather a form from environmental factors, combined with some unfortunate lab contamination. This actually links in to a few personal headcanons on how Crystals work, though we don't think we've posted them before.

A crystal is a colonial organism, much like coral, storing both data and magical energy. Generally gathering energy from the sun to power itself, it grows so slowly as to be unnoticeable to the bug eye, but it does grow, and when exposed to, say, a charm engineered to allow for rapid change of a physical form, it has the potential to rapidly grow and consume that energy, stopping its growth either when it grows out of magical energy or when the handful of elements present in the original weave to let it change and grow are consumed.

Some people in external kingdoms do this to avoid having to constantly ship in Crystals from Bugaria, but it's not particularly common, as this method of growing Crystals tends to consume things like your other projects, or the lab shielding you probably want to keep intact, or yourself if you have the poor foresight to not properly protect yourself against contamination. Under control conditions, the chances of this happening are nearly zero! Under these conditions... well.

Crystals are very, very good at preserving memories. The rest of Holly's body, on the other hand, might be a bit of a lost cause at this point. You can work in a lab without seeing things, right...?

...yeah, we aren't counting on it, either.

Bonus: for those who scrolled down this far, a quick compilation of labels. As well as, of course, a teaser for what's yet to come.

[...the most complimentary thing that I can say about Mal, I think, is that Hobbes would get along well with xir. Terrible lab safety protocols. AWFUL cross-contamination protocols. Just looking at this bug's methodology is giving me hives. Venus give me strength. I suspect that any brew that I attempt to use will suffer from enough unknown, uncontrollable outside variables that none of the data I get will be even remotely applicable to any other situation. "Edge case" is generous - I struggle to call this sort of tampering anything less than an utter abomination of science.]

[I will be using one of the more heavily conceptual brews for this. The REMW-19 formula is reasonably stable enough that the weave shouldn't just collapse in on itself, but it has been remarkably poor at producing organisms capable of surviving on their own once the transformation has set enough that they don't have enough former anatomy to "fall back" on - I suspect, currently, that the survival of targets afflicted with the effect I am attempting to recreate relies the support on some sort of internal magic system, and if so, the sheer amount of lingering cross-contamination likely seeped into every ounce of aer chitin might actually boost survivability. I have no positive expectations for this, however.]

In spending ingredients on this, I hope to assemble an encyclopedic list of all of the ways that a charm's effects can go stupidly, horribly wrong. Venus willing, it will not double as a list of ways that my lab can be destroyed, or a list of ways that tampering with Charmcraft can go wrong. I have had enough recent trouble with repairing the lab's seals after the Vessel experiments - I have no particular desire to replace anything else now.]

[ryanhamiltonwalsh]

A Rick Rolls a Nation — a timeline of the JD Vance couch joke

July 15th, 2024: "can't say for sure but he might be the first vp pick to have admitted in a ny times bestseller to fucking an Inside-out latex glove shoved between two couch cushions (vance, hillbilly elegy, pp. 179-181)." — @ rickrudescalves (the now deleted tweet)

Arguably, this ground zero tweet overly complicates things. Soon, the "latex glove" element will be completely forgotten and JD will *only* be fucking couches "raw dog style" in almost all subsequent variations on the joke.

July 15th, 2024 - Present: The joke goes absolutely bonkers viral. Comedian Kathy Griffin, who famously overstepped in 2017 by posing for a photo with a model of Trump's bloodied, disembodied head, believes the joke to be true, boosts it as if it is.

July 24th, 2024: The Associated Press publishes a fact check of the "claim," which is inherently hilarious.

July 25th, 2024: The Associated Press retracts the piece, causing fans of the Vance/couch meme to go wild with delight, the joke being that they retracted it because there's actually something to it. “The story, which did not go out on the wire to our customers, didn’t go through our standard editing process. We are looking into how that happened" — AP spokesperson Nicole Meir

July 30th, 2024: Business Insider tracks down the originator of the joke and interviews him --->

"@ rickrudescalves hid the post within a week of publishing it, but the couch joke had already left an impression."

He says he was uncomfortable with the attention the joke received, and is mildly worried about being accused of election interference, but has no regrets.

Rick cites Werner Herzog, Jorge Luis Borges, John Fowles, and Hunter S. Thompson in explaining precedents for the form and details of the joke.

July 31st, 2024: JD Vance either intentionally makes a lame joke embracing (or trying to claim ownership of) the couch meme, or does so accidentally via free association. Either way, it falls totally flat and the man continues to dazzle America with his complete lack of charisma and his disgusting views on women's rights.

August 6th, 2024: Tim Walz is selected as Kamala Harris's Vice Presidential running mate. That night, in Philadelphia, Walz kills with a Vance/Couch joke.

August 7-8th-ish, 2024: The far right, led by Laura Loomer and Don Jr, makes an unfunny, clumsy, intentional attempt to do the same kind of joke with Walz by claiming...he...drinks horse cum? Because this is so...just gross—a classic over-escalation, you might say—and completely manufactured, this attempt seems to be dead on arrival.

August 9th, 2024: The non-GOP backlash officially begins. New York Magazine pubishes:

"Besides the tiresome-but-correct moral case, leaning on fake memes also just isn’t necessary, much as it may delight Democrats’ online base. Good political candidates have always known how to get vicious while staying within the lines of accuracy. This means homing in on opponents’ real weaknesses, a task the Harris campaign has thus far excelled at."

To which there was an excellent Twitter response:

Right. Who owns the joke? Is it democrats? Is it officials or citizens? The answer is no one, and therefore the idea it can be policed is itself a kind of joke, I think.

Where will it go from here? We shall see.

I wonder if we'll ever learn the identity of Rick, because, I agree, I think a joke made in mid-July may have altered history.

[tgirlrobot]

You want to be a robot that is humanoid because you dislike the imperfection of flesh.

I wish to be a robot, to be a bastardisation of god's creation, and usurp it with manufactured divinity of my own. I want my face to be a crt screen, constantly whining to hurt the ears of those who are unprepared to behold me. I want a constant electrical current going through my overgrown steel chassis, so nobody may touch me without holy garb of rubber and insulation. I want my self to be such a mess of incongruence and manufactured inconsistencies with wires connected to null points, neutrals leading to grounds and live wires sparking freely as my hair and body just to mentally break any who attempt to understand my form.

I wish to be a biblical machine spirit. A goddess to be prayed to, not understood. Gifting boons of spontaneously living technology. Becoming a patron lord of those who are manufactured for purpose. To be the benevolence of an uncaring god. Something not giving a heart, but still manufacturing their own.

We are not the same, however I will still pity you and grant you a toaster that beeps happily when making your day a little brighter.

[acmewire]

The Impact of Technology on the Wire Forming Process

Over the last few years there have been many developments in wire forming that have made a lasting impact. The latest innovations in wire forming manufacturing have been in software, forming head configurations, ease of use and speed with which automated manufacturing machines can shape steel wire.

Recent developments in wire forming technology have transformed the wire form manufacturing industry. Innovative software, advanced forming head configurations, user-friendly interfaces, and high-speed automated machines have significantly improved the efficiency and precision with which steel wire can be shaped. These advancements have propelled the wire forming industry forward, making it more capable of meeting the needs of various industries.

Here are some of the most common wire form products:

 Mousetraps

You may not have known, but wire forms can be found in some of the most common household items like mouse traps. Now this might now seem like a product that is new and exciting, but the simple front portion of a mouse trap is a great example of a common wire form design. A similar design is used for safety pins but when used on a larger scale the basic shape is transformed into a large industrial or agricultural machining. Oftentimes, the larger wire forms are used to connect or link things like tractors to another piece of equipment.

Wire Handles and Large Wire Applications

One of the most common larger wire applications is wire handles. Handles can be manufactured with wire sizes upwards of 200,000s and are designed to slip into a hole at either end with a shaped handle above for carrying.

Battery Contacts Manufacturing

One of the most common applications for wire forms is battery contacts because they are a quick, inexpensive part to run. Battery contacts are designed to have a spiral spring with a leg that can later be welding onto a base. Some battery contacts are designed as wire form springs, although some are designed as stampings made from sheet or strip materials. Typically, this type of application requires a nickel material either as plating or as a base material.

Wire Forms to Secure Light Fixtures

The lighting industry is one of the common industries that use CNC wire forming because it is durable and can meet tight tolerances. Light fixture wires are common, simple wire forms that are designed to safely hold a lighting fixture in a ceiling.

Technological advancements allow for more custom wire forming designs to be manufactured in less time. These advancements in wire form machines allow for even more precise manufacturing at greater speeds – drastically increasing efficiency. As wire forming technology continues to evolve, the more the wire forming process will be fine-tuned for productivity and efficacy.Content Source: https://acmewire.com/the-impact-of-technology-in-the-wire-forming-process/

[jenny123scm]

As unenjoyable those “covid” years were for all of us, it has brought some innovative ideas to create “hybrid” work spaces for hospitals, schools, and offices.  Let Wiretech Fabricators know what innovative office furniture solution your team is developing to see if we have a wire form solution for you!

[azul-marie]

ramattra. (innamorare)

fem. omnic reader

no matter the days he’s spent with you, never will he tire of your beauty.

he runs a careful hand over the curves of metal, dips of steel and lining of cables that make you you. he does not see the manufacturing number assigned to you on your lower flank. he pays no attention to the designation given you by fleshly humans, who named you senseless letters and numbers to serve, to obey.

you are more than a number; none are capable of counting your worth. you are perfection, the only redemption your human creators could possibly hope to have. you have made yourself by way of your spirit, indeed, a dolce soul.

“my love.” he calls you, leaning down to press his face to yours. cold, unflinching metal scrapes together, but it is the warmth you bring to his chest the only sensation he feels. “my soul, my life.”

your laugh, resonance with a buzzing timbre sweet, sounds between his throat when you nuzzle closer against him. “i am well aware,” you tease, your fondness never lost on him. “you remind me so often, so gently for a mighty omnic.”

he forgets how easily he overtakes your slimmer, feminine build. how large his hands, his arms embrace and enfold you when the two of you lay alone in his chambers. how your face fits squarely clasped between his palms, they which pull you in close to kiss about your features, each a sudden spark igniting soft laughs and even softer touches.

rays of dawn’s light fall in through a crack of his curtained window, reflecting off your entangled bodies. specks of light are thrown about the room, like freckling stars across the twilight sky.

“i fail to be mighty in your presence.” he admits, a rumbling whisper. “for you bring me such joy none could ever replicate, a kind no other being has experienced before.”

“surely you jest.” you whisper back, modest as always. but he feels the way your exhausts heat up in an omnic’s way of bashful expression, his words flattering deep within the wires. it makes him chuckle, pulling you snug into his lap.

“never, soul. when i rest, i hear your voice call to me, how spring begets blossoms. when i wake, it is as if the iris itself has renewed my vigor, so strongly you sing to me in my dreams. it is no jest, and do not doubt; you are everything.”

his chest fills with the echoes of your delighted laughter, a pleasant balm in the form of sound. he holds you closer still, wishing only briefly to know what it feels like to touch, really touch, every lovely inch of you, wonderfully made as you are.

but the thought leaves quickly like it came. he has no need for skin, for flesh, for fingertips. there’s nothing, no thread of hair, no scent or smell, no sigh of breath or press of lips he needs to love you true. he is content with the cold, the sharp and edge of metallic bodies, the exposed balljoints of limbs and alloys that form these shells you occupy.

anubis be damned. he was not created only to serve, obey, to wage war on flesh and bones.

no. ramattra was made to love you and you alone, to be an interweaving of wires and light ever seeking your devotion, your benevolence. all this and more shall he follow with loyalty closer to worship, from past to now to future until the day humanity sees you for what you truly are — a goddess of steel, the muse of his soul, the love of his finite life.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

A chain of copper and carbon atoms may be the thinnest metallic wire

Researchers from the Laboratory for Theory and Simulation of Materials at EPFL in Lausanne, part of the NCCR MARVEL, have used computational methods to identify what could be the thinnest possible metallic wire, as well as several other unidimensional materials with properties that could prove interesting for many applications. Unidimensional (or 1-D) materials are one of the most intriguing products of nanotechnology and are made of atoms aligned in the form of wires or tubes. Their electrical, magnetic, and optical properties make them excellent candidates for applications ranging from microelectronics to biosensors to catalysis. While carbon nanotubes are the materials that have received most of the attention so far, they have proved very difficult to manufacture and control, so scientists are eager to find other compounds that could be used to create nanowires and nanotubes with equally interesting properties, but easier to handle.

Read more.

[deadfrog-and-friends]

domestique, part 4

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Sistress moped around for a few hours but recovered quickly. Over the next few days she slapped together a few rag dolls that looked even more cursed than me, and experimented bestowing life onto them. I reached out and felt the barest consciousness take hold. Their psychic activity was equal to that of a garden worm, I told her. They flickered out after a few days at best. Some only lasted minutes.

“You are doing these as a proof of concept,” I explained to her. “You are not putting the proper effort into their construction, so you don’t love them enough to give them life. That’s why it’s not working.”

“Nonsense. My sister didn’t love you, and you’re here,” said Sistress.

“Miss already had the knack for it,” I explained. “And she did put work into me. The proper effort.”

Sistress wasn’t concerned. “Well, I don’t really have the tools or time or skill to make their bodies nice,” she said. “I could get some pre-made from a manufacturer, do you think the life would take more easily if someone else made the ‘proper effort?’”

“I understand some witches do it that way,” and gave her the information for a toymaker Miss used to collaborate with from time to time. Later on I overheard her on the phone trying to convince this lady to give her some sample bodies for free. Before I ever learned whether her efforts were successful, the stranger arrived.

They were a mechanic, and they came with all sorts of tools and equipment, and Sistress dragged Merxia back over to the work table and they got to work on her. I was annoyed that Sistress had brought in an outsider without consulting me. It seemed to me they were going to replace Merxia’s doll core with some kind of robot computer brain and the thought of it unsettled me greatly, for reasons I could not explain. Was it prejudice against robots? I had never met one. They seemed like fine entities, from what I had heard, and I supported robot liberation in theory. It was just, the use of Merxia’s body… Merxia… was like my… sister? I felt protective of it, even though like all of the rest I had whispered evil things to it in its infancy. Some digital stranger… would it somehow have Merxia’s memories? Would Mistress have wanted this? Would Merxia? Did it matter what they would have wanted? Did I want this? Did that matter? I supposed all that mattered was what Sistress wanted. She was the mistress of the houeshold, after all.

Why did she want Merxia alive so bad, I wondered, that she would adapt it into a completely different sort of entity? I thought of Merxia’s sleek, athletic body, and I thought of the fact that Sistress had taken no lover for years, and I thought I knew. Sistress had asked my mistress for a doll to be her companion, and had received me. In my stunted form, I could not cook, or clean, or aid her with magic, and I could certainly not bring her any physical pleasure or be worthy of romantic love the way some dolls were. I thought of the time she had squeezed my tummy. I felt twisted inside. I remembered that Merxia had 100,000 follicles of human hair manually installed. Smooth and soft, beautifully maintained, a joy to touch. Mine was made with acrylic yarn. It was starting to pill. Merxia had a fully articulated body, including… including… sex parts, for having sex with humans, since cyclist dolls needed to be able to bond with their team in various ways. This body, my body, was completely featureless. My hands were mitts, with small bumps for thumbs. My feet looked like boots. There were seams on my sides and shoulders and a horizontal one between my legs and that was it, otherwise completely plain.

I heard a strange screaming in my head. I must be broken, I thought.

At that point Sistress came and found me and unceremoniously carried me back to the work table. Merxia’s head was open, but now it had a hinge on it, and there was a little chair and there were all sorts of wires and I was entirely confused. It looked like the inside of a mecha like the ones who fought in the war but it was small enough to fit into a regular doll’s head. But who could pilot such a mech? The mechanic was holding a tiny suit. “Lil Nell,” they said to me, holding it out. Sistress had told me the mechanic’s name but I hadn’t been paying attention. To be honest, I’m not even sure what their pronouns were.

“Um,” I said.

“I’ll help you put it on,” said Sistress, and right there in front of the mechanic she pulled off my dress and started pulling my limbs though the suit. It had like a lot of little things on it where you could plug in wires, and so once she was done she set me on the seat and began to plug it in.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Excuse this one,” I said, “excuse me, what exactly are you doing?”

“I’m putting my doll into my doll,” said Sistress, “so my doll can drive my doll around. Let’s go for a test run!” She plugged the last wire into a plug at the base of my neck and flipped the top of Merxia’s head shut. Everything went dark.