
I'm just a legal adult who found solace in smut writing between seasonsBring_backup on AO3
732 posts
NALA SE: Look At My Latest Work, Lama-Su. This One Will Be Big And Strong. This One Will Be An Excellent
NALA SE: Look at my latest work, Lama-Su. This one will be big and strong. This one will be an excellent marksman. He will be very smart. And this one will be able to feel vibrations.
LAMA-SU: Feel vibrations? That's it?
NALA SE: Hmmm...the Clones are genetically predisposed to hair loss. Perhaps I can assure he has a luxurious head of thick dark hair even into his old age.
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More Posts from Bring-backup-99
ND Tech Week Day 1 - Cadet Batch
Rating: General Audience Word Count: 630 Summary: Wrecker takes the quiet part out of Tech's peace and quiet, but Tech can't say he's upset about it. For @neurodivergent-tech-week
For once, the Kaminoan sky was clear. As clear as it could be, at least - Tech had been watching clouds gathering on the horizon since he first settled onto the narrow ledge to work, aware that the weather could shift towards a storm at a moment’s notice. But with his back tucked up against metal, goggles settled onto his thighs waiting for their upgrade to be installed, and calm waters far below, things were as close to peaceful as Tech had ever seen them.
Until his comm, set between his boot and the wall to ensure it didn’t fall from his perch, came to life.
Wrecker’s voice rang through in that hushed shout that passed for a whisper. “You still doing okay?” Even with the comm so far from him, Tech could hear breathing coming through, and he could just imagine Wrecker in his bunk, curled up and leaned in far too close as he waited for his answer.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Tech said idly, raising his own voice to compensate for the distance. He could have retrieved the comm, of course, but that would mean putting down the recording device currently occupying his hands, and with its fragile inner workings exposed at that. Turning it over, Tech briefly inspected the wiring as he waited for another response, only for none to come.
Wrecker was likely lonely then, looking for company rather than having anything to relay to him. Tech’s eyes flicked to the comm, listening to the breathing for a few seconds before asking, “Where are Hunter and Crosshair?”
“Shooting range.” A hint of crackling distorted the reply and Tech frowned. He wasn’t so far from their barracks that it should have interfered with the signal. The first hint of a brewing stom perhaps. He would need to keep a closer eye on the skies then, to ensure that if the weather did turn he - and more importantly, the recorder - wasn’t caught up in the downpour.
Still, the thought was unpleasant and he let out a short sigh, glad that the comm was too far away to pick it up. Wrecker didn’t need to think him disinterested when already searching for connection.
Tech plucked the smallest of his soldering irons from beside him, beginning to carefully fuse the ends of the wires into place within the new recorder. As he worked, he raised his voice again. “Have you listened to the audio recording I acquired for you?”
Wrecker had never been much for reading, but the blast that had taken sight on his left side had taken what little attention span he had for it along with them. Luckily, though he could only hear on his right now, audio processing seemed to have dodged the same fate, as long as the recording was suitably slow paced. He may not have been able to keep up with many of Tech’s explanations, but audio novels were a different story.
His investment in stories that could generously be described as tawdry was beyond Tech’s understanding, but understanding wasn’t necessary. They made his brother happy, so he would fight his way through as many layers of Kaminoan security as necessary in order to provide a continuous supply.
Instantly, the tone changed and brightened, Wrecker’s false whisper dropping and voice rising as eagerness overwhelmed any restraint. At first it made Tech wince to hear the sudden increase, but he adjusted quickly and soon enough the words became a comforting backdrop of their own.
Eventually, the clouds would gather and force him back inside, Wrecker would run out of Twi’lek pirate adventures to poorly relay back to him, and the moment would pass. But, for now, it was peaceful.
Perhaps he would even finish his work in time to record some of it.
When I first started exploring Ao3, I wandered into a Dead Dove story, not knowing what that tag meant. The fic was hideous, but so well written that I couldn’t stop reading it. And as I was processing it, I thought, “This person needed to write this, to help themself. And there are people who need to read this for the same reason.”
And that jolted me right out of any preconceived notions I’d had about what I was willing to read and changed some of the judge-y thoughts I had about reading and writing fic.
But even before that, I would never have tried to dictate someone else’s actions on Ao3 or on tumblr within their space.
Scrolling past something, blocking what you don’t like, etc., is the way. It’s easy to do.
Ok I want to say something controversial
But you are responsible for your own safe spaces. You can block tags, block words, block people.
“But i thought fandom was supposed to be a safe space” —yeah you have to curate it.
Unfortunately one persons’s safe space may be another persons’ trigger. That’s ok. Simply block them, block the tag, block the word etc. They can do the same for you.
Maybe I’m just out of touch, but I’ve been around since the days of “don’t like, don’t read” and that’s a good philosophy. If it squicks you, scroll past. If it causes you anxiety or upset, block! Plenty of people are responsive if you ask them to tag an upsetting trigger. And if they’re dicks about it, block em.
beach volleyball, anyone?

Tech’s a lil sandy 🏐
I’m not sure where in the world I’ll be when this goes live, but I can guarantee I’ll have TBB on the brain!
Can’t wait to be home though 😬
Tech steals lightsabers
That’s a non-negotiable

This man has looked Jedi in the eyes as he slips their main weapon into his pocket