"We’re told we’re exhausted because we’re doing too much. But most people aren’t doing too much. They’re taking in too much.
Content. Opinions. Noise. Stimulation. Advice. Outrage. Entertainment. All intake. No release.
Humans were never built to live this way. For most of history, energy moved through the body every day. People made things. Songs, tools, stories, meals, rituals, shelters. Creation wasn’t a hobby or an identity. It was how the nervous system stayed sane.
Now we call it rest when nothing leaves us. We scroll. We watch. We consume. And then we wonder why we feel weird, anxious, inflamed, dull, restless, depressed, or strangely empty even when life looks 'easy'.
Hello! Could I I possibly request something with Tech where his s/o gets hurt and has amnesia or bad memory problems with some angst and maybe a happy ending? 🙈💗 thank you! And only if you want to of course!
Nonny, I love you even more for requesting my main man Tech. OF COURSE I WANT TO DO THIS ONE! It's been a hot minute since I have written for just him alone. I absolutely adore this idea. Consider it done! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
Clarity 🌤️
Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, TBI, blood, recovery from surgery, memory loss, amnesia, misunderstanding, yelling/arguing, a kiss
Summary: After taking a rough tumble, things aren't what they seem.
Read on ao3 - 6.5k words
Tech x Reader Masterlist - TBB Masterlist - My kofi✨
“Tech, when you mentioned that this was an island world, I thought it meant we would get to soak up the surf and sun, not be trekking through the jungle like always.” Wrecker announces his annoyance while swatting vines out of his way.
“I merely stated the climate and environment to be expected upon arrival to Kothlis.” Tech discloses, continuing through the trail while guiding the group. You walk closely behind him, chuckling at the banter while exchanging entertained glances with Hunter, Echo and Crosshair. “I never made any such suggestion.”
“Yeah, well…” Wrecker cannot deny his claims, realizing he made the assumptions himself. “Just promise we get to have some time at the beach before we leave, okay?”
“What’s so special about a beach on this planet as opposed to any others?” Crosshair argues while adjusting the hold on his rifle. “This place smells like moldy cheese.”
“Lighten up, Crosshair.” Echo joins the conversation. “I’m pretty sure that’s just the inside of your helmet.”
Everyone erupts into laughter, including you, but it is quickly suppressed when Tech holds his right fist in the air, signaling the group to stop in their tracks and fall silent. “Activity on my scanner. Just ahead.”
Hunter listens closely, recognizing the slithered stomps of a viscous myntor. That venomous hiss announces its presence, letting your group know it is aware of your collective location. Its long snout creates a menacing silhouette around its face, the rest of its body hidden in a bush. “Tech, I see one.”
“I know.” Tech confirms, trading his scanner for one of his blaster pistols. “I spot it too.”
“What’s the plan?” Wrecker asks, needing instruction to handle what follows. “We charge at it?”
“Not if you want to get your limbs ripped off and die from cauterizing acidic saliva.” Tech sets his sights on the massive reptilian, aiming the blaster right at its head to avoid the chance of deflection. The intent is to bring one of these organisms back alive to delve into the biological properties that make its kind impervious to combustion as well as piercing projectiles. The components within its natural armor could one day be used to create synthetic trooper kits, enhancing the protective measures for all clones everywhere. You just need to catch one first. “I’m going to stun it from afar.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Echo cautions while eyeing up the distance away from this quadruped predator.
“Let me do it.” Crosshair volunteers with an antagonizing nudge of Tech’s pauldron, disrupting his vision. “My aim is better.”
“There’s a chance the blast won’t even touch it.” Hunter speculates, worried the foliage might get in the way, or worse, its back plating will serve the very purpose they’re here to investigate.
“If we can’t risk brawling with it, what are you waiting for?” Wrecker implores, wondering why Tech hasn’t executed action yet.
“I have to be precise…” Despite his efforts, he takes a few milliseconds too long, and it begins to rear back with the intent to lunge.
“Shoot it, Tech!” You cry out as the beast springs for him. You loyally shove Tech aside when it becomes clear his stun round completely missed its target, bearing the brunt of the impact as this weighty animal throws itself in your direction. Everyone takes a tumble, but you end up slamming your head against the broad trunk of a tree while the myntor scrambles to gain its footing. Its long and toothy maw hangs open as it growls loudly, droplets of its aforementioned acidic spittle falling onto your forehead and sizzling around your left eye.
Wrecker crawls towards it on all fours, pinning it in a headlock of sorts to give the rest of the boys enough time to fire as many stun rounds it takes right at the myntor’s soft underbelly. It falls limp in Wrecker’s arms, slumping when he drops his hold on him. Its scaly exterior is rough and as hard as steel, but it no longer poses a threat for now.
“Ah! Ooh! Ouch!” Wrecker hollers to himself, slapping the smoking sections of his under suit on his arm to stop it melting away from the residual venom spilled from the beast’s mouth.
“I regret putting the animal in distress.” Tech declares, his flawed focus being on the wrong thing right now.
“That’s not all you put in distress.” Crosshair announces, crouching over your motionless body still resting at the base of the large tree.
Tech practically leaps forward to reach you, mirroring the urgent motions of the myntor just now. He takes note of your absent condition, blood seeping from the back of your head with a sizzling scar spreading through your left eye. He breathes heavily, gasping when he pulls his hand away and sees his entire palm drenched and stained with crimson. He sits there in shock, simultaneously cursing himself for not acting sooner, the grave cost being your safety.
As he tends to you, Echo lets his next efforts be known. “I’m calling HQ for extraction! We have what we came for. We need to get out of here now.”
You have been placed in a medically induced comatose stasis to improve the chances of a full recovery. The fracture to your skull was substantial and for a while, there was talk of the possibility you might lose your eye. While it was saved, your vision suffered and might be lost permanently. No one will know until you wake up. It’s been nearly three weeks since the incident and you’ve been asleep through it all. The med bay on Kamino is so cold, but there is a warmth on your shoulder that relaxes you. What is it? Who is it?”
While your life has been spared, your sight remains foggy and corrupted. The splitting headache spreading through your brain makes it difficult to focus. Such bright light everywhere, you squint and blink rapidly, trying to make out any little thing to identify your surroundings.
Your head has been wrapped densely with gauze, extending far past your injured eye and over the majority of your face. There is a blatant lack of awareness, but one thing you are certain about, you want this presence far away from you this instant.
That warmth on your left shoulder is weighing you down. Instead of serving as an unbidden comfort, it strikes you as an obstruction, impeding your movements. You groan uneasily, trying to shake it off, but it leans into you even harder. The persistent bother strikes you with annoyance and you eventually shove it away completely. “Get off of me!”
Gaining a proper look at him, you see that it is a drowsy man, having fallen over from sitting in a chair beside your recovery bed. His expression tells you he’s frozen in astonishment, visibly offended by your forceful removal when he was doing nothing but relaxing, albeit using you as his personal pillow. He blinks at you repeatedly, squeezing his eyes tightly between each one while you hop onto the floor. Your stance falters and you brace yourself on the flat edge of the bed, keeping this large object as a barrier between you. “Who let you in my room?”
“I-I let myself in.” The reasoning this strange man tells you is a far cry from being sufficient and you shut him down with further inquiry
“And that’s just allowed?” Your voice elevates in anger, supporting yourself by leaning on the bed. “No one stopped you?”
“Why would they?” He raises his hands to the ceiling, palms facing you in surrender.
“Get out!” You startle him with a shrill scream, but he remains in place much to your displeasure. “Get out! Get out!
“Allow me to explain-” He tries to get a word in, but you will have none of it. Your blood boils. Your patience has disappeared. Why can’t he just make this easy and do what you say?
“I said get out!” You shout even louder at him, making your own ears ring when your voice bounces off the walls.
Another man walks in with a distinctly different appearance from the first in the form of a skeletal tattoo on half of his face, partially obscured by long sections of hair, but a trooper all the same. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Please! Just take him away!” You beg, invaded and frightened while on the cusp of a cry.
“Tech, what did you do to her?” This investigative trooper asks, saying it almost as if something of this sort is out of character for the man found in your room.
“Nothing!” Tech claims. “I woke up after she displaced me to the floor!”
“Find somewhere else to sleep, bozo!” You wave your fist at him, gaining enough strength from the flames of rage ignited in your belly.
“Woah!” The largest one with a webbed scar across his head stops you from falling over and busting your face on the edge of the bed, acting as a neutral barrier between you and this spectacled stranger. “Easy there!”
“Tech, you should probably leave.” Another trooper with a scomp for an arm joins the fold and begins to show him out while the pair of troopers with tattoos on their features linger to comfort you. Though, you now have at least one name for these perplexing faces. “Give them some space.”
“Listen, no one is going to hurt you. You’re safe. We are only here to help.” The one with long hair approaches you tentatively, lending you an ear while his silver-haired associate keeps his distance. “Walk me though what happened.”
“Thank you, sir.” You nod respectfully at him, carrying on with a formal inflection once you’ve caught your breath. “First of all, I woke up with this excruciating headache, I can’t see out of my left eye because of these bandages, and to make matters worse, that sleazeball was drooling all over me!”
“Sir?” The one with the reticle tattoo over his right eye mutters under his breath in reference to your unfamiliarity, exchanging glances with his brother in arms.
“Sleazeball?” His partner adds in response. You clearly watch this exchange, but you assume it is nothing more than modest banter.
“I am going to ask you a very important question, but I don’t want you to be alarmed.” His tumbling locks and deep brown eyes captivate you, and you’re confused as to why he’s talking to you in such a way. Is there something you’re missing?
“I’m already alarmed…” You distance yourself from them, backing into the nearest wall.
“Just… hear me out.” He continues, guiding you onto the bed. Both men support you in climbing atop it, settling you in beneath the covers. “Do you recognize either of us?”
“I’ve never met you before today.” The words you speak feel truthful to you. They are. They have to be. “I don’t even know your names.”
“Erm- well, I’m Hunter. And that right there is Crosshair.” He sounds off the monikers of everyone you have interacted with. “The big guy you saw is Wrecker and he left with Echo.”
“And… the name of the one that was in my room when I woke up?” You pull the sheet up to your collar, hiding behind the thin covering.
“That’s Tech.” He tells you reluctantly.
“He scared me.” You add, wringing the sheet.
“I know.” The pair give each other nuanced glances once more before readying themselves to depart. “We’ll make sure that won’t happen again.”
“I’m sorry if I shouted too loud.” The apology races to escape your lips, sensing a window of acknowledgement closing fast.
“That’s okay.” Hunter nods and smiles at you while Crosshair remains chewing the toothpick in his mouth while submerged in thought. “Stay here and rest, alright? We’ll send someone to change your dressing.”
“What was that all about?” Crosshair dumbfoundingly asks Hunter once they’ve exited.
“I don’t know, but we need to let Tech know what’s happening.” Hunter and Crosshair fast-walk through the halls in search of their brothers.
They reconvene, having located Tech, Echo and Wrecker a few doors down the hall in a monitoring studio where they can view surveillance footage of you in the patient bed. Hunter leads the discussion, recounting his side of things when he spoke with you. “I’m telling you; they have no clue who we are.”
“How is that possible?” Echo ponders aloud.
“That would explain the outburst.” Crosshair discloses, flicking his toothpick into the nearest waste bin. “I’d be pretty startled too if I found some strange man sitting next to me when I woke up from a coma.”
Tech despondently lowers his head, distressed by the painful reality he’s forced to face. “Of course… There’s no other explanation.”
“Do you know what’s happening, Tech?” Wrecker takes a step forward, intrigued by the cause of your frantic episode.
“The traumatic brain injury they sustained is no doubt a direct correlation to the amnesia.” He adjusts his goggles in thought, gripping his chin to roughly stroke as he continues.
“Am-a-what-a?” Wrecker asks, butting in when he wishes for Tech to define the word he does not recognize.
“Amnesia.” Tech clarifies. “Memory loss.”
“You mean they lost all their memories!?” Wrecker cannot comprehend the thought, picturing a computer getting wiped of all its files.
“Thankfully, that’s not the case.” Tech prevents Wrecker from worrying any further, adding onto his statement. “They have a strong sense of identity, and were not alarmed when they awoke here, so they must be aware that they belong on Kamino in some sense, but more recent events and relationships formed are more difficult to recall.”
“Like us?” Hunter suggests woefully.
“Yes…” Tech lets his head sink again. “Like us.”
“They’ve only been part of the squad for the past six months.” Echo folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. “They’ve been dating Tech for barely two of those.”
“I’m not so sure that still applies as of now.” Tech mutters, staring at the floor.
“Ah, chin up, Tech.” Wrecker slaps him on the back a couple times before straightening his posture. “I’m sure they’ll fall in love with you all over again!”
“Yeah, why don’t we get a baseline of what they do know, then we can fill in the blanks with the rest?” Echo creates a game plan, one of which Tech was already considering.
“We must be careful not to impose expectations on them with how things were.” Tech announces the only caveat to this endeavor. “We must embrace how things are and how they want them to be.”
“You sure you’re gonna be able to practice what you preach?” Crosshair closes in, throwing an arm over Tech’s shoulder.
“I don’t believe I will have any issue in remaining professional.” Tech asserts irritably.
“Let’s go make a proper introduction then.” Hunter leads them out of the room and down the hall where you’re actively getting your head redressed by AZI. They stop and watch the process, eavesdropping slightly as you converse with him.
“Now, do let either me or any other officials know if the swelling persists or if your headaches worsen.” AZI hovers about, circling you closely as he secures the steel fasteners to your dressing. There lies a small pill cup and a canteen of water on the shelf space beside you, evidence of painkillers having been brought to you. “We’ll be changing this wrap every forty-eight hours.”
“Thanks a lot AZI.” They are surprised to hear you refer to him by name, beaming at him like he’s one of your closest friends. “You’re the best as always.”
“Nonsense.” He spins around once with a flair. “I’m only fulfilling my programmed directives.”
AZI directs his attention to the squad in the corner, all patiently waiting for him to be through with you. “It looks to me like you’ve got some company.”
“I’ll be okay, AZI.” You assure him with a smile and nod. “Send them in.”
“They are ready to see you now.” AZI announces, inviting the group closer while he makes for the door.
“Hey, uh… how ya feelin’?” Hunter breaks the ice, examining your fresh dressing while watching you fidget with it. “We all wanted to check on you. See how you’re holding up.”
“Better.” Your eyes dart from side to side when you spot those startling golden lenses looking you over from afar, timidly standing behind the rest. You don’t know what this group’s obsession is with you, curious to see them so concerned with your recovery. “What do you want from me?”
“Only to properly make your acquaintance.” Echo interjects, taking a step forward. “I can’t help but think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“It would have been the right one if he didn’t scare the living daylights out of me.” You begrudgingly point at Tech, crossing your arms and dishing him the biggest, most disapproving frown you can muster. He deflates and your heart softens at his visible culpability, but you’ll not let your guard down yet.
“Well see, there is a valid reason he was in your room that day.” Hunter side steps, opening the view to allow Tech forward, but he takes a rough gulp in his dry throat, approaching with a shyness that’s almost charming. “Uhm… Tech? Care to explain?”
“Ahem, yes.” He navigates through the divide of his brothers, taking himself to the forefront as he pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose. “It is standard protocol for members of the same squad to monitor the recovery of injured personnel. I meant no harm by it. I offer my sincerest apologies for frightening you so intensely.”
“Wait… so we’re in the same platoon?” You begin thinking, racking your mind for any hint of truth to his words, coming up short. “Why don’t I remember?”
“This injury.” Tech declares, pointing at your bandages with a soft movement of his hand. “Your skull was severely fractured and had to be fused back together. Would it be too strenuous for you to identify memories you can recall yourself?”
“Yeah, we can help you make sense of the rest!” Wrecker adds excitedly.
“I know my name. I know that I am on Kamino.” You rattle off like identifying items on a list and then it hits you; the list is awfully short. “I just got here, didn’t I? The last thing I remember is completing my training.”
“You’ve been with us for six months.” Echo shakes his head from side to side, sighing deeply when the reality of your condition finally sets in.
“Six months?!” It’s like a punch to the gut. How much of your life are you actually missing? How many days you’ve experienced are drawn completely blank? “That’s not true. You’re messing with me.”
As much as you don’t wish to believe it, their expressions tell you that their words are genuine. Why would they lie about something like this? There’s no point. It must be true. Tech rests one of his hands on the frame of your recovery bed, giving you a look like he’s struggling to formulate how he wants to proceed.
“You were in an accident while on our latest mission. It happened about three weeks ago today.”
“Three weeks…” You gasp. “I’ve been sleeping for three weeks…”
“It went by a lot faster than you would think.” Tech offers you a placid smile, hoping to soothe your apprehension. “Your head was badly injured, but the surgery was a success, and you might even regain complete vision in your eye if not already lost.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Crosshair mutters, criticizing Tech’s bedside manner.
“What happened?” You ask, cowering at the thought of enduring a learning curve with only one functioning eye.
“It was my fault.” Tech is very adamant about this, and you’re wondering if there’s a correlation between his appearance in your room and this ambition being the root of all his guilt. “I take full responsibility.”
“It was no one’s fault.” Hunter cannot watch his brother martyr himself, taking the initiative to commandeer the lead on the conversation. “We were sent out to research a type of venomous reptile. It charged at us, but you happened to take the worst hit. Your head collided against the trunk of a tree and some of the reptile’s venom got on your face.”
Tech meekly shrinks at this passive scolding from Hunter but soon realizes that blaming himself is no use when you lack the context to understand his remorse. You touch the side of the bandages overlapping your eye. It’s numb. You can’t even feel yourself blink. Perhaps you’re not able to. “AZI neglected to provide that information for me.”
“He probably didn’t want to frighten you until he could see how it’s healing.” Echo reassures you. “Besides, we can always ask him about bionics for you later on if that’s a route you want to take.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You aimlessly continue to stroke the gauze, the pads of your fingers tingling from the friction.
“Ah, don’t look so sad.” Wrecker reaches forward and gives you a gentle jab on your shoulder. “On the bright side, you’ll always have a cool scar, like me!”
“That’s a pretty good trade-off, isn’t it.” Your spirits are lifted at Wrecker’s idea, always wondering how cool it would be to have the precision of Crosshair’s sight coupled with advanced scanners at your disposal like Tech. “I like the way you think, Wrecker.”
You have been getting a tighter grip on your relationship with Clone Force 99, settling in almost like you were never in that accident. The streaks of humor have not been lost on you, and you are becoming more comfortable with them as each day passes. The time has arrived for your bandages to be removed so that the condition of your eye can be thoroughly assessed. Tech insists on taking you to the appointment himself, offering to be the one to remove them.
“Next, I am going to soak these last couple layers in a bit of saline solution to loosen their cling on your eye.” Tech squeezes a small dispenser and water flows over your face, soaking into the gauze with some excess droplets falling on your lap and soaking into your clothes. “If it starts to sting, do not hesitate to alert me.”
As Tech begins to lift the wrap from where it’s caked onto your face, you get the insatiable urge to startle him like he did to you back then. “OW!”
Tech jumps back at your loud vocalization, frightened that he caused you additional harm. When he sees you burst into laughter, gauze still dangling front your head, he dryly chuckles and resumes his operation. “Ha-ha. Humorous indeed. Now hold still so that I can finish this.”
“That was a good one and you know it.” You add, still snickering.
“Yes, it was.” Tech agrees with you, tugging on each section of the wrap as it is loosened from your eye. “You got me.”
Tech tosses the bundle of soiled gauze into the nearest bin, moving your head from side to side to inspect your sutures and scars. “It will take some time for your hair to grow back, but things look to be healing nicely.”
You keep both your eyes closed, nodding repeatedly to let Tech know you’re at least listening, but you’re unsure about how to move forward.
“Open your eyes.” Tech instructs you. “Slowly.”
“I know I just…” You squeeze your lids together, rolling your eyes around in your head to get used to the foreign absence in your left side. “Give me a sec.”
“Take all the time you need.” Tech rests his clean, warm, ungloved hand over your knee to let you know he’s not going anywhere. “I’m right here.”
Your right eye blinks open flawlessly, operating just as it was moments before. Though, there is a blatant fogginess in your left that is disorientating. No matter how many times you open and close it, it’s like something is stuck on your lens and you can’t clear it away. It’s dizzying. You place your hand over it to soothe it in darkness and Tech retracts his, giving you space to move.
“Anything?” He asks, having not gotten a glance before you placed your hand over it.
“Everything is blurry...” You explain, resisting the urge to rub your fist into it as hard as you can to alleviate the itch. “The scars around it are really itchy too.”
“Might I take a look?” Tech asks you politely and you don’t have it in you to deny him.
You lower your arm, allowing him to examine you. He leans in close, and the scent of his breath causes your stomach to sink. It’s minty as it wafts down your face, like he prepared to for this exchange. It is only at this moment you are made shamelessly aware of his proximity. His hands carry the temperature of his heart, a thundering pulse sending his life force through the very digits that cradle you now.
As you obey Tech’s instruction, he uses his index finger and thumb to reveal a mesmerizing sight. Your eye has scarred over itself, fogged out with desaturated notes of its original color. His jaw hangs open, definitely astonished by your condition, but all this attention starts getting to you and you find yourself falling deep into the gravity well of his gaze.
“Fascinating…” He whispers. You’re helpless in his grasp, clutching the collar of your shirt to alleviate some of the nerve-wracked displacement. There is a familiarity in his motives. This doesn’t feel like it’s the first time you’ve been held by him; too intimate to be a coincidence. “Its motor functions are unaffected, but the retina has completely melted away. I can show you an assortment of cybernetics if you’re interested, but to alleviate the current strain, I can only offer this.”
Tech creates distance between you, plucking something from one of his many utility pockets. It is a leather eyepatch, crimson red with the titular skull insignia featured on each of the squad’s personal effects. You know it is all part of protocol, but he didn’t have to get this customized for you. A simple surgical eye patch would have sufficed, but perhaps he didn’t think that was enough for you.
Biting your tongue so hard you could chomp it off, you venture out of your comfort zone, posing a rather unconventional question for Tech to answer. “Have you ever dated anyone before?”
“I beg your pardon?” He is taken aback, puzzled by the inquiry.
“Don’t answer if you don’t want to. You just seem like that kind of guy.” You say, stretching the eyepatch over your head but struggling to adjust it comfortably over your eye. Tech assists you, pulling the strap down so that it rests right at the nape of your neck and not rolling up your cranium.
Tech stands in front of you and breathes in deep, wringing his hands in thought while you await his answer, sitting on the stiff medical bench. “There was one person actually.”
“Who?”
“They were a prior member of our squad. They were strong and fierce in battle while reminding us to never take for granted the simple joys in life.” Tech describes this mystery member, and you drink up every word, intrigued by his perceived love life. “Everything just fell into place when they were here.”
“Where are they now?”
“They were called elsewhere and eventually we grew apart.” Tech discloses with a darkening of his expression. “It was not my place to get between their ambitions.”
“That’s silly.” You take his hand in yours, initiating the first steps of attraction towards him, hoping to the Maker you won’t get rejected. “If I were them, I wouldn’t move on from you.”
“You wouldn’t?” Tech cannot believe what he is hearing.
“Of course not.” You laugh at the notion of throwing him aside when he’s so… perfect.
No words are spoken for a while. You sit there, Tech standing there with your hands in his. He circles his thumbs over your knuckles, vacillating between stoicism and acting on his urges. You’re magnetized to him, leaning forward hypnotizingly before tension directs him to a different path.
“Shall we uhm-” Tech clears his throat, letting go of your hands to turn his back to you. “Shall we thumb through your cybernetic options?”
“Oh! Yeah, that uhh… that’s a good idea!” You accept, shoving the butterflies in your stomach down so that you can act with some sense of normalcy. “I was about to suggest that.”
Tech takes you through all the steps of deciding which implant would be best for you. Looking at countless models, only one amongst them catches your attention. It is completely encased in a sleek black plating, emitting a bright red glow from its iris that blinks and fades when going through stages of analysis. It is decorated with steel components that shine against the darkened frame.
“This one.” You pluck it from the table of assorted options. “I choose this one.”
“A fine choice.” Tech commends you for your decision, taking the eye from your possession to hand off to AZI. The procedure is completed rather quickly. You even asked to keep your damaged eye preserved in a little jar of fluid once retrofitted with the replacement. It’s been difficult having to be in and out of the operating theatre for all these appointments and procedures but having Tech here with you through it all has made everything worth it. In fact, he knows when you’re annoyed, bored, angered and even happy. As of right now, you’re upset that you’re cooped up in the clinic still, dying to be cleared for active duty again. Though, Tech fortunately has a plan to cure you of your cabin fever.
Darkness falls on Kamino. You’re kept overnight once again so that the implant can be monitored in case your body starts to reject it. No such complications have occurred while you’re lying here in the dim silence praying for a reprieve.
“Pssst.” A noise makes itself known from the corner of the room where the doorway leads to the rest of the clinic halls. It’s Tech.
“What are you doing out of bed?” You whisper through giggles, excited to see him at this late hour. “You’re going to get in trouble!”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He passes the threshold, entering discreetly in his black undersuit, no loud armor to get himself noticed by clanking about. “I would venture to guess you’re caught in the same dilemma.”
“Please tell me you’re rescuing me before I die of boredom here.” You practically beg him, sitting up.
“I have something in mind.” Tech alludes, helping you to your feet where you shuffle on your slippers. “I know just the place where we can test out your implant.”
Tech sneakily leads you down the sterile white halls of the facility, void of all life and light. He takes you to one of the only outlets in this area of the weaving map, opening the door to the nearest balcony overlooking the oceanic landscape. It looks like a thousand crystals scattered atop a rippling blanket of blue. There’s that spark of familiarity again, popping up in instances of his chivalry. As you step outside, the salty sea mist wafts into your face and you sense yourself recalling the first day you made it here. It was raining then, and the sky was far darker than this. The heavens did not hold the same beauty. As of now, it resembles a backlit canopy with millions of tiny holes punched throughout, allowing their shining rays to greet your longing sights. You stare in amazement, frozen in place when a slight nudge at the small of your back brings you back to reality.
Tech leads you to the side of the balcony’s structure, stopping just short of the dome awning secured over the roof to protect the entrance from heavy downpours. He posts himself directly in front of you, his fingers interlocked like he wants to hoist you himself.
“What are you doing?” The message is unclear, and you demand some direction.
“I’ll help you up.” He shrugs, assuming you know just what he means.
“All the way up there?” You point at the large sloping crest that ascends up the structure from the awning.
“How else are we going to get an unobstructed view of all three moons?” Tech’s deadpan delivery does more than energize you. It sparks you with a rapid haste that tosses all second-guessing to the briny wind. Tech gives you a nod and you ready yourself by putting both arms on his shoulders before taking a step on his interlocked hands with your dominant foot. He squeezes tightly, pushing you high over himself as he stands tall, assisting you in climbing atop the awning and waiting for him on the slope. Tech jumps once, clamping his hands on the awning’s rim before heaving his entire body weight over top of it. His dexterous abilities cause those once placid butterflies in your stomach to scatter, eyeing the muscles contoured by his undersuit. He scoots back to join you in a seated position, making it easier to ascend the crest and make it to the top.
“This is much nicer than the clinic.” You spin your head around, taking it all in. “Do you come here a lot?”
“If I am completely honest, I only started coming here recently. I’d say the past couple months.”
“How did you think of climbing up?”
“It wasn’t my idea.” Tech refers to himself, tapping his chest a couple times. “I was shown by someone very special to me.”
“Oh, that’s right.” You grin at him, playfully shoving him with your fist to his shoulder. “The one that bailed on you.”
“They didn’t bail on me.” Tech corrects you, taking his eyes off the twinkling overhead for a second to study your new face. “They just… went away.”
“Do you think they’ll ever come back?” You scoot closer to him, intent on soaking up every bit of his warmth.
He does not push you away, instead registering the fact that you’re cold with a drape of his arm over your shoulder. “I hope so.”
You and Tech end up staying up conversing amongst yourselves until the wee hours of the morning. You watch the sky pan across in real time as each bracket of night passes, showing a different moon getting brighter and bigger no matter when you looked up. The roaring tides are a testament to the trifecta of tidal forces, giving you and Tech the perfect white noise to fall asleep to. You didn’t realize how comfortable steel plating could be until you slept on it, having gotten better rest than when you were in a coma.
The brain is a fickle thing. It’s in this period of stasis that these deeply ingrained dreams come rushing back to play a poignant tune across your heartstrings the minute your sickness dissipates. Illusions take the stage as you watch through your mind’s eye, waking up with someone you feel you’ve gotten to know so closely. They’re yours and you are theirs. This belonging cannot be disputed.
Your mind cannot clearly picture the person pulling you into his space, but the sunlight on their silhouette cuts through the hard shadows of him leaning into you. A soft press of his lips finds yours and it makes you believe it’s no fabrication. Is it really you conjuring these things? Or are they merely figments of your wanton imagination? You may never fully understand the visions you see after falling asleep.
You wake up to droplets sprinkling over you. The cloud cover is closing in fast, but there is still enough break in the sky to see the sun. You need to get inside. You don’t want anyone to come looking for you. “Tech? Get up. I think we overslept.”
Tech turns over and you notice something familiar in the way the glare from his goggles catches the rays of sun. It bears a striking resemblance to the silhouette you had just seen before you opened your eyes, except, it couldn’t be.
Tech blinks at you, rubbing each eye one at a time with a comfortable adjustment of his lenses. You fall stiff, trying to hide your nervous blushing. Why is your mind betraying you right now?
“Is something the matter?” Tech tilts his head at you and you spot it again, that glimmer of understanding. How does he know anything is wrong? Is it that obvious? You surmise it’s time to come clean.
“I feel strange.” You scratch the side of your head with the long and jagged scar where your sutures and staples once were.
“Strange how?” You are grateful for Tech’s patience, thinking on the spot for ways to word this.
“Like I’ve been here before.” You tap the roof of the dome structure, smoothing your fingers across the welded sections of steel. “I had this dream that we-”
Tech listens with a raise of his brow, waiting on every word but you sell yourself short by thinking he won’t understand. “Never mind. It’s too weird.”
“In your dream,” Tech takes in a sharp breath, realizing the mental bomb he’s about to drop on you. “We kissed, didn’t we?”
You scoff, violated like he took a gander right into your mind while you slept, but that would be impossible. “How the heck do you know that?”
“It is my memory too.” Tech exhales a relieved sigh, rejoicing at the thought of your memories returning. You still have many blanks that need filling, but it’s all starting to become clear. He wasn’t lying when he explained the reasons he was resting on your shoulder that day. It made perfect sense that he was keeping a tally of time passed until you woke up. He’s been there since the beginning.
“So, the one that got away?” You start, referring to the person who “left” him when the puzzle pieces start to fit.
“It was you.” Tech discloses, caressing the webbed scar extending from your left eye, stroking it with his thumb. Your pupil shines, blinking its red light as a stream of tears gathers at your waterline. “I knew you’d come back to me.”
You fall deeper in love with each other, sealing your pact with a kiss. He throws himself at you, yanking you into his lap to coil his arms around your waist. His hands climb up your back, grasping the nape of your neck and threading into your hair, absorbing every bit of your essence that he has been craving. He is careful around your scars, petting them lovingly while you continue to mold your mouth to his. The sprinkling rain converts to a full-fledged downpour, but you couldn’t care less if you get soaked from head to toe. All you care about is catching up on all the love from Tech you’ve missed.
I've been researching and experimenting around rehabilitating my relationship with technology for a few years now. What I've realized is there's a big gap between what the research shows and what gets bumped by algorithms like YouTube - which is probably not an accident given the aims of the algorithm.
Here are my biggest takeaways so far:
- Dumbphones, lockboxes, switching to physical media, most everything you see online about coping with tech overwhelm - these plus a very long drying out period are best in cases of genuine tech addiction. Otherwise it's overconsuming to solve and overconsumption problem. Our attempts to rehabilitate our relationships with tech are being hijacked and comodified which keeps us dissatisfied/on the hamster wheel.
- Not all screen time is created equal - research shows this. Some impacts people positively, some neutrally, some negatively. Targeting screen time as a metric tends to make people feel happier in the short term by minimizing the negative category but this often leads to a level of untenable friction toward the positive and neutral types in the long term that tends to lead to a relapse and "binging" the negative. Shame leads to a repeat of the cycle.
- Social media is consistently shown as one of the most negative impacts on psychological wellbeing. Your biggest bang for your buck will be in either leaving, modifying, or heavily structuring your use of social media.
- If you can't leave social media, taking it off of your phone and using a plug in to block the feed + ads on desktop can help. Still want to see what your friends and family are posting? Create a folder for bookmarks of direct links to their profile/main pages or use an RSS reader like Feedly. Curate it carefully; avoid outrage regardless of whether you share it's leanings.
- There are other targets that I personally think would make people happier with their tech usage overall: eliminating/minimizing subscriptions, avoiding ads, prioritizing privacy, and using human curation. While they each have benefits on their face, the shifts in usage they encourage are ones that people generally report more satisfaction with.
- Eliminating/minimizing subscriptions means more money each month but it also usually means cutting out things like streaming. The big non-financial con of streaming is that it can lead to overwhelm and perfectionism - thereby decreasing satisfaction. The upside of cutting it out is that it pushes people toward renting, owning, or ripping media they love which requires intentionality and curation.
- If really you want free streaming, check out whether your library has Kanopy, Hoopla, or Freegal. You can still get some of the benefits by embracing the reduced selection they offer. They also likely still have CDs and DVDs you can rip for your personal collection.
- Avoiding ads and prioritizing privacy go hand in hand. This usually means using an ad blocker and shifting away from Apple and Google and Meta where possible - deleting apps, switching services, blocking feeds, switching browsers. I can't deGoogle completely at the moment but when I shifted in the ways I was able, I started scoring my time online more positively and I took more breaks/spent less time on it.
- Seek out human curation: library newsletters, listen to local radio, ask your friends and family, check out round ups and newsletters from your favorite creators, share your own. Human curation is less likely to be driven by business interests and while there's no algorithm free media rec these days, they're not being given to trap you on a platform.
- Focusing on a quantitative metric (like screen time) is the gateway to consumerism. Stop looking for a cure and start discovering your personal philosophy. Talking about the algorithmic alienation from our actual feelings and desires is too much for this post but simply put there is no "pure" experience you're missing out on by using a screen. Notice how you're feeling, respond with kindness, and let the rest go. Shame is a weapon in the hands of corporations.
Staying off of social media feeds for 2 weeks is not a huge ask, and now we know that Glitch whittled that down from the entertainment and distribution industry’s original proposal!
To me, it wouldn’t matter if they had chosen that interval themselves from a shorter one- it is amazing if these incredibly dedicated artists and production team will be getting more compensation for delivering something for free.
Everyone gets access.
It’s just staggered.
Can’t say that about any streaming services!
Indie is wonderful.
It is amazing they will pull in more revenue for new projects!
I hope all the people who can’t conceive of adjusting or limiting or suspending their social media use for this interval realize what a LANDMARK moment this is for indie animation as a whole and quit bellyaching about spoiler dodging. Stop focusing on just themselves and their annoyance. It’s a golden opportunity to take a good long look at just how dependent and addicted you are to internet use, and ways you can cut back in the first place. “Tech detoxes” for mental health are already a thing, have been for quite a while. I blog a lot on here about how Glitch “accidentally” created a far more pronounced literary tragedy than the story even set out to do- and now, in the meta, they might’ve accidentally woken up a lot of people on tending to their own mental health. Fitting, with the show’s themes.
Might blog about this again, Copy-Pasting some objections I’ve seen and deconstructing them.
I need to speak to transmascs and trans men for a second, as an asexual person.
Tumblr dumped a post a good while back that I was too tapped out to try to rewrite. But now I’m going to try again.
Because look. We were the scapegoats several years ago. And you are now. We got bullied off the site. I personally did not, because I wasn’t very active at the time, but I’ve read a LOT of stories of ace spec people who did.
We came back.
Like mushrooms after radioactive fallout.
This too shall pass.
If you need to take a break from Tumblr, and go to more close-knit or closed off spaces somewhere, group chats, Telegram, whatever, to preserve your peace as a transmasculine person? Please do so!
Those of us with our heads on straight will welcome you back when it’s safe(er).
I would personally recommend not deleting your Tumblr outright, but just waiting for this latest wave of shit to go by.
Or, simply cut back on your time staying here. Break that scrolling habit. Fill your cup.
While the fascists lick their lips at the prospect of murdering us all, dumbshits are trying to push versions of “transfeminism” that are toxic and anti-inclusionist.
The utter inability to see the bigger picture is exactly what the oligarchs want. Just like they use race to divide the working classes to prevent resistance or overthrow, via identity politics, they also try to point out what they think are “contradictions” in “gender ideology” when in reality … reality is just complicated.
Average people falling for this and coming after you?
I am holding you so gently when I say this. You do not deserve that.
You do not deserve to be punched down on by entirely misdirected anger at transphobic and sexist society as a whole.
You are not someone’s punching bag.
Those people should be in their own communities, f***ing shit up against power structures, organizing resistance, not in your DMs.
Keyboard warriors, pretty much every last one of them.
And they don’t DESERVE to feast on the chunks they just tried to rip from your mind.
They’re vultures, screaming and flopping around about tired talking points, not the rhetorical glorious dominant apex predator that they think they are.
You are not a coward, or HEAVEN FORBID, “unmanly” for leaving- or restricting Tumblr’s access to your mind.
Bring back what masculinity was before colonialism injected toxicity into it.
i had to admit something to myself today. i'm a tech addict. and not in a fun way.
the past year, i bought a dumbphone and used it instead of my smartphone. that was already my last resort. ever since covid, i knew that i couldn't get off screens.
my 18 hour screentime was my worst day. that's right. only 6 hours in the entire day i wasn't looking at my phone. and that's all i slept.
i have to use a smartphone. as an adult in this modern world, it's impossible not to. my local bank has closed, the mail and laundry in my apartment are managed with apps, and i even need it for college.
as soon as i started using it again for college this year, i felt myself being pulled right back to using my phone all day, every day. every single minute, every single second.
i even noticed that when i was using a dumbphone, i just transfered my addictive tendencies to my laptop.
today, i still find it hard to put a screen down and be in the real world. it's depressing that i can't think of a moment in my entire day-to-day life i'm not looking at a screen.
I'm so over it.
so, join me as i take my life back. i may not be comfortable living without headphones and screens right now, but i will be.
you can watch my journey. it might just inspire you to make some changes in your own life too.
I expect people will hate me for this, I guess. But, nowadays, there is just so little actual feedback being offered for fanfiction. I was active back in the LiveJournal days, where we actually INTERACTED.
So I did a bad and submitted my work to ChatGPT just to hear detailed feedback for once again. I do hate when people use CharacterAI to get interaction, it's damaging just like everything else, and really I know that this isn't that much different, seeking the kind of fandom interaction you SHOULD have from other human beings, but at the same time, I feel that people using CharacterAI would have a MUCH easier time finding a fuckin roleplay partner (just go to Discord goddamnit. There are TONS of servers for that) than authors nowadays have finding people willing to do actual in-depth discussion of their stories.
Never mind actually finding beta readers that will stick with you and give useful advice, and not having to wade through all those damn people who are only offering you feedback you crave in hopes that they can guilt you into paying them money later.
I feel bad for the effects on the planet but just can't bring myself not to do it, either. Kind of like someone who knows smoking harms their lungs, but still buys the next pack.
Isolation only makes physical addiction worse, and at the end of the day, is this all that much different?
