#Week1

[dib-dab-art-attack]

I would like to nominate myself for being the person so far behind in the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts that I only just finished Week one's prompts... In my defense, I had the sketch of the comic finished in week one.

Omega ate the last of the Coco pops....what would Coco pops be called in the star wars universe anyway O⁠_⁠o

Edit: I've only just realised I forgot the entirety of Hunter's tattoo 👁️👄👁️

[foxwithadarkside]

Summer of Bad Batch

Week 1/Alt. Prompt: “It’s not what you think.”

Tech: It’s not what you think

Phee: It's exactly what you think

@summer-of-bad-batch UPD!: Awesome @pinetree-tbb wrote a fic inspared by this art :D Сheck this out: Not what you think! by PineeTree99 on AO3 UPD2: Another fic from @clone-protection-agency! Weeeee!!!

[paperback-rascal]

Artwork done for @summer-of-bad-batch's week 1 prompt - "Water gun fight".

---

My fanart masterlist -> [LINK] <-

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STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[ewokmurderbear]

summer of the bad batch week 1- "it's not what you think"

explanation under cut

so obv my delulu brain still wants the winter soldier arc, and my thoughts on this were

-tech breaks the programming yada yada

-omega gets hurt

-he doesn't know what to do (tbh would the empire have medical supplies on tantiss available??? i doubt it)

-knows hunter and co are looking for her

-i thought it may be on the catwalk of the reunion

-hunter and crosshair think he hurt her obviously

-"it's not what you think"

-takes off helmet

-crying

[clonebrainrot]

Since I cannot make art for the prompt I will make a meme for the prompt instead here is my contribution to bad batch summer’s week 1 prompt. On a water gun fight. Now to think of a meme for the alternate not what you think.

[kybercrystals94]

Neon Warfare

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 1 | Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight | Alt. Prompt: "It's not what it looks like."

Rated: G | Words: 3109 | Summary: Wrecker buys two little water guns. What's the worst that could happen?

“Hey, look at this?” 

“How much do you think something like that costs?” 

“They call that art? I’ve blown up things that ended up looking nicer than that!” 

“If we could get one of those, would you want red or blue? I know red is part of our colors, but blue is nice.”

Crosshair tries to ignore Wrecker’s incessant commentary as they cut through a district of novelty shops. Keeping Wrecker on task during slow paced missions is like herding wild tookas: impossible and incredibly annoying. 

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Crosshair finally snaps. “Are you even watching for our contact?” 

“I thought you were watching,” Wrecker says, “I’m just backup.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “So help me…” 

Wrecker gasps, and Crosshair turns to see what has distracted his brother now. Small, neon colored, plastic pistols. “What are these?” Wrecker asks the shopkeep. 

“Water guns,” the man says. 

“What do they do?” Wrecker asks before Crosshair can haul him away. 

The man looks unimpressed with the question. “Shoot water.” 

“They’re so tiny,” Wrecker croons. “You just fill ‘em with water? Simple as that?” 

“Simple as that.” 

“Wrecker, come on,” Crosshair growls. 

“They’re on sale, two for a credit,” the man says. 

“Sold!” Wrecker whips a credit out of nowhere, drops it in the vendor’s waiting hand, and snatches up a green and a pink pistol from the basket. 

It takes every shred of patience for Crosshair to keep his mouth shut until they move away from the cart. “Put your toys away, we’re busy,” he hisses. 

“We’re always busy,” Wrecker says, ignoring him as he fiddles with the tiny orange stopper at the top of the pink pistol. Once he dislodges it, he hands the green pistol to Crosshair. “Hold this.” 

“I’m not holding your toys!” Crosshair cries, taking the pistol anyway. 

Wrecker gets out his canteen and tries to delicately dribble a stream of water into the hole at the top of the gun. Most of the water ends up in a puddle on the ground. 

“I’m not sharing my canteen with you when you’re thirsty later,” Crosshair mutters. 

Wrecker either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “There!” he says, triumphantly, poking the stopper back into place. Before Crosshair can react, Wrecker points the gun at Crosshair and pulls the trigger. A spurt of water splatters harmlessly across Crosshair’s visor. 

He’s annoyed nonetheless. “Ugh! Grow up, Wrecker!” 

“Here,” Wrecker says, unperturbed, reaching for the green pistol, “let’s fill yours up.” 

“It’s not mine!” Crosshair says, thrusting it into Wrecker’s hand. 

“Sure it is! I bought it for you.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

Wrecker’s shoulders slump. “Aw, c’mon, Cross. You’re no fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun. We’re here on a mission. Now, put your kriffing toys away.” 

Crosshair starts walking, and hears Wrecker start trundling along behind him. And then he feels it. Something wet on the back of his neck.

“Ha! That was a good shot!”

Crosshair sighs. This is going to be a long patrol. 

*

Surprisingly, Wrecker seems to lose interest in the water guns the moment they come within sight of the Marauder. He shoves them in one of his pockets and goes about his chores without a word about his newfound toys that he’d been harassing Crosshair with nonstop. 

Crosshair isn’t complaining. Maybe the stupid water guns will be forgotten, lost in a crate somewhere…or found by a certain sniper and shot out the airlock while in deep space. 

However, Crosshair’s hopes are dashed when he opens his firepuncher case the next cycle and finds that someone has put a neon green water gun inside. A torn piece of flimsi is folded beside it. Crosshair picks it up and opens it. Got plan. Practice. Secret. - W. 

Shaking his head, Crosshair picks up the tiny pistol. He can tell by the subtle weight that Wrecker has already filled it with water. With a scoff, he aims idly at a bolt in the wall and shoots. The spurt of water misses by at least nine centimeters to the left. Crosshair’s jaw drops. He missed? He adjusts the pistol in his hand. Shoots. Five centimeters too low. 

Crosshair swears under his breath. 

Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt…

Miss, miss, miss, miss…

He’s about to throw the water gun across the ship when a rumbling voice says behind him. “Harder than it looks, huh?” 

Wrecker’s pink water gun appears in his hand, comically miniscule in his massive fingers. He aims for the exact bolt Crosshair was aiming for. 

Direct hit. 

Crosshair actually chokes on his gasp of shock. He’s coughing so hard that Hunter comes back to check on them, Wrecker slapping Crosshair on the back as if that’s gonna do anything to help.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks. 

Wrecker grins. “Yeah, he’s just fine, sarge.”

Hunter quirks an eyebrow at Crosshair, and Crosshair can only nod. With one last bewildered look, Hunter retreats back to the cockpit. 

“That’s why you gotta practice,” Wrecker says loftily. “Otherwise, I’ll just be a better shot than you with a water gun.” 

Crosshair glares at his largest brother, seeing the shameless goading for exactly what it is. And yet, he will not be outdone by Wrecker, not even with a stupid little toy water gun. “Oh, you’re on.” 

*

Echo is tracking their flight plan when he hears Wrecker start sniffling behind him. He ignores it. 

“Sure is dusty in here,” Wrecker comments offhandedly. 

“Whatever you say,” Echo mumbles. 

More sniffling. “My nose sure feels funny. It’s like a sneeze is stuck in there.” 

Echo grunts in vague sympathy. 

Then comes the shuddering breath of an attempted sneeze, loud and exaggerated…and prolonged. 

“For force sake, Wrecker, if you’re gonna sneeze, sneeze!” 

“ACHOO!” 

Wet droplets shower the back of Echo’s neck. His reaction is immediate. “Wrecker! Did you just sneeze on me?” Echo squawks, standing and whirling on the giant. 

Wrecker doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looks alarmed and frantic as he tries to shove something bright neon pink in his pocket. Echo is faster when he’s annoyed or angry, and it pays off now. He snatches the mystery item out of Wrecker’s hand. A tiny, cheap water pistol. 

“You shot me with this and made me think you sneezed on me?” Echo demanded. “That’s disgusting!” 

“It’s called a prank,” Wrecker says, sounding offended by Echo’s evident lack of humor. 

Echo rolls his eyes. “A childish prank.” 

“It’s called fun,” Wrecker says, holding out his hand. “Now give it back. I still need to shoot Hunter and Tech with it.”

“Do you honestly think that’s going to end well?” Echo asks, deadpan. 

Wrecker smiles. “Not sure, but I’m willing to find out.”

Echo hesitates, weighing his options. If he returns the kriffing toy and Wrecker pranks Hunter and Tech with it, Echo risks being called complicit in the crime. 

If he keeps the toy…

“C’mon, Echo,” Wrecker whines, making a grabbing motion with his outstretched hand. “It’s water. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt them.”

The manchild does have a point. 

Echo sighs. “Fine. But so help me, you shoot me again with this thing, I’ll send it out the airlock.” 

Wrecker grins almost apologetically and snatches the toy up the moment it’s placed in his hand. “Ah, it was a good prank. You can’t actually be mad.” 

He’s not, but Echo narrows his gaze anyway. “You wanna bet credits on that?” 

“Fine! I won’t shoot you with water again,” Wrecker grumbles, folding his arms, hiding the water gun from view. Echo shakes his head and turns back to finish his calculations. He chooses not to react when Wrecker mutters, “Killjoy.”

*

Hunter is on the very cusp of sleep on one of the bunks when something hits the side of his face. Something cool and wet. He jerks awake with a gasp, hand flying up to touch where the attack occurred. His glove comes away damp. Turning, he sees Crosshair, polishing his rifle. 

“What was that?” Hunter demands. 

Crosshair looks up. “What?” 

“Someone splashed me with water,” Hunter says. 

“Someone splashed you with water,” Crosshair echoes. He rolls his eyes. “Sure they did.” 

Hunter glares at him. “You did it.” 

“How?” Crosshair asks. 

“Easy. You threw water at me.” 

“Where did I get this water?”

“Your canteen.” 

“Does it look like I have a canteen on me?” Crosshair asks, glancing around himself pointedly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.” 

“My glove is literally damp!” 

“Maybe it’s sweat. Between that mop you call hair and that bandana, you must be roasting alive.” 

“I’m not sweating!” 

Crosshair shrugs, returning to his task. “Whatever you say.” 

Hunter watches him a few more moments before he closes his eyes, keeping his head turned toward his brother, and tries to resume his nap. 

Another water strike, square in the middle of his forehead. Hunter’s eyes fly open, and Crosshair is still there, not looking at him, polishing his rifle with the same leisurely ease as before. 

“You did it again!” Hunter cries, sitting up. 

Crosshair meets his gaze. “What are you on about? I didn’t do anything!” 

“Yes you did! You’re the only one in here! There’s no other explanation!” 

“How the kriff did I do it then? Explain it to me!” 

Hunter grits his teeth. He can’t explain it. But he knows it’s true. “You’re the one doing it, so you tell me!” 

“I’m not doing anything! I’m cleaning my rifle. Maker!” 

Hunter stands up. “You know you’re the worst sometimes?” 

“So I’ve been told,” Crosshair muses, going back to his task.

Hunter starts to storm to the cockpit when something hits the back of his head. He whirls around and Crosshair is still at work, an almost imperceptible smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Hunter growls a curse under his breath before making his retreat. 

*

“What are you doing?” 

Wrecker and Crosshair startle and look up to find Tech standing over them. The casings of two water guns are on the floor between them, taken apart, amongst a plethora of spare parts from Tech’s stash for his projects. A stash he has very deliberately told his brothers not to touch without express permission. 

And neither of the clones in front of him had any such consent.  

“It’s not what you think,” Wrecker says. He has the decency to sound guilty.

Tech frowns. “What I think is that you are modifying toy pistols using my personal collection of parts.” 

Crosshair shrugs. “Then it’s exactly what you think.” 

“Put the parts back immediately! They are meant for serious projects, not hobbies.”

“Ah, c’mon, Tech,” Wrecker complains, “this isn’t just a hobby. It’s for science.” 

“How so?” Tech asks, unimpressed. 

Crosshair holds up a data pad with crudely designed schematics. “We’re going to increase the weapons’ accuracy by approximately one hundred and five percent.” 

Tech takes the data pad and examines the modifications. “No you are not.” 

“Why?”

“Because I am not giving permission to use my parts for these modifications. Give them back.” 

“Maker, Tech, don’t be stingy,” Crosshair protests.

“It is not being stingy to say that these parts are for specific purposes. Not a single one of those purposes include water guns. Put them away.” 

“Or what? You’ll tell Hunter on us?” Crosshair snarks. 

Tech glares. “You are being immature.” 

“Fine!” Crosshair says, “We’ll put your precious parts away. We don’t need them.” 

Wrecker frowns. “Yeah, we do.” 

“No, we don’t,” Crosshair says. He scoops up the spare parts and dumps them back in their box. He hands the box over to Tech, now a jumbled mess to be sorted. 

“You are behaving like a juvenile,” Tech says irritably. 

Crosshair smiles, but there is no friendliness in the gesture. “Oh, you haven’t seen juvenile yet.” 

“Is that a threat?” Tech asks. 

“Of course not,” Crosshair says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Just something to think about.” 

*

Tech calls a meeting between himself, Echo, and Hunter, closing the cockpit door while Crosshair and Wrecker are distracted with cataloging inventory. At least, that is what they said they were doing when they disappeared into the upper hold. 

“Something has to be done about Wrecker and Crosshair,” Tech says. 

“What do you mean?” Hunter asks. 

“Are you talking about their stupid little water pistols?” Echo asks, rolling his eyes. 

Hunter’s jaw drops. “That’s how Crosshair got me!” 

“And Wrecker got me,” Echo says. 

“I caught them trying to modify them to have better accuracy,” Tech says. “I stopped their attempt, but it is only a matter of time before they find alternate means.” 

“I told Wrecker if he shoots me with water again, I’ll send his water gun out the airlock,” Echo says with a shrug. “I say we follow through.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No. We should fight fire with fire.” 

“Water with water, as it were,” Tech chuckles. 

“Please no,” Echo entreats. “Let’s end this before it gets out of hand.” 

“I’ve been doing some research,” Tech says, bringing out his data pad. “I believe I have found the perfect solution.” 

****

“We have four standard hours of shore leave,” Hunter says, “That means you’re all back to the ship in three and a half. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Crosshair snarks with a lazy salute. He and Wrecker saunter off, leaving Hunter, Echo and Tech without a backwards glance. 

Once they are out of earshot, Hunter turns to Tech. “You got those coordinates?” 

“Affirmative,” Tech says, pulling up the directions on his data pad. 

“Are we really going to spend hard earned credits on water guns?” Echo asks.

Tech frowns. “These are not simply water guns, Echo. They are classified as super soakers.” 

“Cross and Wrecker won’t know what hit them,” Hunter murmurs almost gleefully. 

“Do you even hear yourselves right now?” Echo cries. 

Hunter ignores him. “We need to head out. We have to be back here and in position before the targets return.” 

Echo rolls his eyes, but follows Tech and Hunter anyway. 

*

They turn more than a few heads when they walk into the toy store; however, Crosshair ignores the incredulous stares of the other patrons. He walks straight to the counter, Wrecker at his shoulder. “We had an order for pickup,” he says.

“Sure, what’s the name?” the clerk asks. 

“Crosshair.” 

The clerk disappears into the back room and returns with two packages. “Two special order water guns?” 

The burning sensation of embarrassment creeps up the back of Crosshair’s neck. “Yes,” he says. 

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait to try ‘em out,” Wrecker crows. 

“Can you be quieter,” Crosshair hisses at him. 

The clerk rings up the order and accepts the payment before relinquishing the packages to the soldiers, fully armored sans helmets. Wrecker takes them both eagerly, tucking them under one arm. They leave the shop and nearly collide with three more armored figures about to walk in. 

“What are you doing here?” Hunter demands. 

“Nothing!” Wrecker cries, sounding panicked, shoving the packages behind his back. 

“We could ask you the same thing,” Crosshair counters. 

Hunter crosses his arms. “We were following you.”

“Why?” 

“We’re suspicious.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of what you’d be getting from a toy store.” 

“How did you know we were coming to a toy store?” 

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that, and changes the subject. “What did you get?” 

“Nothing,” Wrecker reiterates guiltily, “It’s a surprise.” 

Tech adjusts his goggles. “Which is it? Nothing or a surprise?” 

“How about,” Crosshair says, stepping in front of Wrecker, “none of your business.”

“This is ridiculous,” Echo grumbles.

Crosshair reaches back and grabs Wrecker’s arm. “C’mon. We’re leaving.” Dragging Wrecker behind him, he shoves through the suspicious trio. 

“See you lot back at the ship,” Hunter calls after them. 

“Not if we see you first!” Wrecker hollers back. 

“Shut up!” Crosshair growls. “This is bad enough as it is.” 

*

They watch until the suspicious duo disappear into the crowd. 

“Those packages were definitely within the dimensions of super soakers,” Tech says. 

Hunter nods. “We should have known they’d do something like this.”

“We’re doing something like this!” Echo exclaims. “I never asked to be part of this. I’m never going to be dry again!” 

“Stop whining, Echo,” Hunter says, opening the door of the shop. “It’s three versus two. We’ve got the advantage. They might have started this, but we’re going to end it.” 

*

When they return the Marauder, the ramp is down, but it is quiet. Too quiet. Hunter holds up a fist, and Echo and Tech immediately stop short. Hunter’s eyes rove over the ship’s exterior. 

“Are we within range?” he asks Tech, a whisper over his shoulder. 

“If Crosshair is positioned on top of the ship, affirmative. He will have gravity on his side.” 

Echo groans. “Need I remind you all that we are in public?”

“We split up,” Hunter says, voice low, gripping his colorful weapon and holding it in ready position. “Circle the ship.” 

Echo sighs and takes the left side while Tech goes right. Hunter bravely takes center. He barely makes it four steps forward before he is hit in the face with a stream of water. 

And that’s when all hell breaks loose. 

*

No one says anything until the Marauder is settled in a hyperspace lane. The only sound is the hum of the ship and the faint sound of water dripping off five drenched commandos. 

Until… 

“They had no right to confiscate our weapons!” Wrecker grouses. 

Echo huffs. “It was that or the city putting in an official complaint with the GAR.” 

“I find it a little extreme to be prohibited from an entire planet. No one was injured,” Tech says. 

“Crosshair shot a child point blank with a super soaker and made them cry,” Echo points out. 

Crosshair chuckles darkly. “In my defense, I thought it was Hunter. They were similar heights.” 

Hunter scoffs. “You are such a liar.”

“Wait, who was it that then shot an officer sent to investigate the disturbance?” Crosshair asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. It was Hunter. That’s what got us in real trouble.”

“Now wait a minute,” Hunter starts indignantly. 

Echo stands up. “I just want to go on the record and say I didn’t want to be involved in any of this!”

“This is true,” Tech agrees, “Although you are the one who soaked the second officer.”

“That was an accident.”

“That’s not how the officer saw it.” 

As the bickering escalates, Crosshair catches Wrecker’s eye and holds out his hand, mostly fisted, but open enough that the demolitions expert sees a glimpse of pink and green. He grins, looking back at Crosshair. Crosshair puts a finger to his lips. Wrecker nods. 

The war is far from over. 

END

Finally got my first prompt fill done for my own prompt event 😂 It's been an absolute joy and delight to see all the fills so far! I dedicate this story to @just-here-with-my-thoughts' kiddo 😉 A lot of work went into getting this prompt in the top 13 🤣

12 more weeks of Summer of Bad Batch!! Can't wait!!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver

[summer-of-bad-batch]

And so it begins…

WEEK ONE PROMPT DROP!!

Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight

Alternative Prompt: “It’s not what you think.”

Reminder to tag your prompt fills so everyone can find them!

This week’s tags:

#summerofbadbatch2024 #week1 #water gun fight #it’s not what you think

[pandorademos]

better watch it...

A bit late, but that's life. I am going to attempt to get through as many prompts as possible of @summer-of-bad-batch ! Wish me luck!

[true--north]

| ILLUSION | @helsaweenfun | what do you want? 'cause you've been keeping me awake

[zahmaddog]

Prompt: Water Gun Fight

*Crosshair and Omega keep to the shadows of Pabu with their water guns close to their chests.*

Crosshair: And you’re sure you saw Hunter come this way?

Omega: Yes! He’s not to far from us now.

*Omega looks through her binoculars*

Omega: See! There he is!

*Hunter stands in the middle of a street corner, looking oblivious.*

Omega: He’s just standing there! Is… Is he playing bait?

Crosshair: Uh-huh.

Omega: Well, there’s not really a risk. Let’s go get him.

Crosshair: Something’s off… Where’s Wrecker?

*Omega fastening herself to a zip line to ambush Hunter*

Omega: I guess we will find out!

Crosshair: Omega! Wait!

*Omega zip lines down to the street corner, disconnects herself while she still has momentum, and somersaults into Hunter, spraying him with water.*

Omega: I got you!

Hunter: AND I GOT YOU! Wrecker!

Wrecker: ABOUT TIME!

*Wrecker appears from around the corner and presses a button, igniting all of the sprinkler heads at once, drenching Omega and Hunter.*

[flowersareverypretty]

We're Brothers and Brothers are Always There for Each Other

Summer of Bad Batch 2024

(Will be adding to ao3 soon)

Week 1: "It's not what you think"

His arms curled tighter around his head, hands overlapping each other at the nap of his neck. His chin was level with his chest, almost touching, and his legs were tucked as close as he could get them. He was trying to make himself smaller as another kick hit his lower back. Biting his tongue, he managed to stifle a groan as someone else stomped hard against his hip. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Tech embraced himself for another kick, the two were still jeering above him, they wouldn't be letting up anytime soon. There was a pause between the next kick, before he could question it, he felt a hand slither itself underneath his chin and clamp down around his neck. He was yanked up from the ground and, not letting him regain his bearings, was slammed against a wall. His head throbbed after it bounced back from the impact. Tech tried to shake it off, tired to refocus his eyes, but the hold on his neck did not allow for much movements.

As another round of laughter rose from the cadets, he leaned his head back and scrunched his eyes closed. The cool metal of the wall relieved a minimal amount of the pain, but not enough. He let out a choked groan. When it felt like his head stopped spinning, he opened his eyes again. The world was clearer than before, that was good. He blinked a couple times and focused past the crack in his lens to the clone that held him up against the wall. 

The boy seemed to be saying something, but the ringing in Tech’s ears hadn’t died down enough to hear yet. He could assume it was another attempt to insult him in some way. He didn’t pay that any mind.

Using one hand to lessen the pressure and strain on his neck, he kept it firmly pressed against the wall giving himself support. He moved his other hand to wrap around the wrist of the person holding him up. 

He tried to pull the arm away but there wasn't enough leverage to push against. Tech wheezed. The person’s grip tightened closer to a dangerous level. 

Before he could do anything, the sound of a door opening diverted everyone’s attention. He watched as the cadets turned their heads as the newcomer fully walked in. 

“Hunter…” Tech’s eyes widened with dread when they met Hunter’s own. He quickly darted his gaze from them, afraid of what he might see. “It’s not what you think.”

But Hunter’s attention didn’t seem to dwell on Tech. Quickly his glare moved to the other clones in the room and immediately his presence became hostile. His fists tightened at his sides and his form became slightly bent, as if he was preparing to jump forward at the first sign of trouble. 

“Back. Off.” Hunter’s voice was hauntingly deep. It sent a shiver down Tech’s spine, he feared he would soon be on the receiving end of it as well. 

At first, the cadets hesitated. They exchanged quick side glances at each other but when Hunter let out a growl, they didn’t stay longer. The one holding Tech up by his throat didn’t leave enough time for him to adjust in a way to catch himself. He crumbled to his knees, lungs desperately grasping after the strain. The clone didn’t seem to have an ounce of guilt as he darted away. Once they were a good distance from Tech, Hunter angled himself so that his back was never turned to the cadets. He kept watch long after the door slid shut.

Tech tucked his arms to his chest and pulled his legs closer. He kept glancing between Hunter and the floor. The longer Hunter stood unmoving, the more anxious Tech became. In the back of his mind he knew that the squad leader was still sensing a presence behind that door, but he couldn't help but be afraid that he disappointed Hunter. That he was beyond angry. 

It took a minute longer before Hunter finally let up his guard. As soon as Tech saw the tension release from his shoulders, he ducked his head down. He managed to hold back a flinch when he heard Hunter start to approach. 

“Tech.” Hunter’s voice was soft, with a note of concern. 

Tech glanced up at him. Hunter had stopped just a few feet away from where he sat, crouched down on one knee. When he noticed Tech’s gaze, he reached a hand out. This time, Tech couldn't hold back a flinch, his eyes darted back to the floor. From the corner, he noticed Hunter had paused. A frown became present before he sighed and drew back. 

Hunter stood back up and glanced at the door behind. “Come on,” He took a small step closer, trying to beckon Tech with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tech, in return, gave a short nod. Keeping his eyes trained to the floor, he used his hand on the wall to steady himself. His hand slipped causing him to stumble. Before he fell back down, Hunter grabbed his arm.

“I got you.” Hunter murmured. 

–

Hunter carefully dabbed a wet washcloth on a small cut on Tech’s forehead. His eye twitched as it stung with each touch. 

The two sat in silence. Hunter hadn’t said anything about what happened, had not said much of anything after they had left that room. Tech was sure that he was angry, disappointed. It was only a matter of time before Hunter finally chewed him out. Before he would throw him out. Tech was becoming more anxious by the second. He wanted to get it over with.

Tech rubbed his thumb into his palm as comfort. “I’m sorry.” 

He felt the washcloth pause mid dab, resting against the cut. Tech’s gaze darted towards Hunter but nothing clued him in what he was thinking. The washcloth was pulled away. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Hunter asked, his voice sincere rather than confrontational. 

“For not fighting back…” Tech pulled his hands to his chest. “I know that I’m behind everyone else. That I am not as skilled at fighting. I’m holding everyone back.” He took a shuddering breath. “But…but I'm trying! I’ll try harder! Please don't get-”

Tehc didn’t get to finish. Hunter was now kneeling in front of him, Tech’s hand in his own, brushing over freshly made nail indents.

“Tech.” Hunter looked into Tech’s eyes. “You are a member of this squad. You will always be a member. You are stuck with us.”

“But-”

Hunter cut him off. “You don’t have to be as skilled as us. You got us, remember? We will cover for you, as you will do for us.” He set Tech’s hand back in his lap. “We’re brothers and brothers are there for each other.”

[wreywrites]

The Sniper of Old Pabu

Summer of Bad Batch Week 1

Prompts: Water Gun Fight & "It's not what you think."

A/N: Decided to write little scenes and snippets in and around my current WIP "Shattered." I promise I'm working on it, but in the meantime, enjoy Summer of Bad Batch and all the Omega & Boys & Zara shenanigans. Warnings: None, it be fluff AO3

Echo dropped behind the crumbling wall. Missed shots plastered the brick behind and above him, where his head had been only seconds before. Footsteps pounded toward him. He raised his blaster and faced the corner, finger on a hair trigger. With a scuffle of scraping gravel, Omega skidded around the corner and dropped to a crouch next to him.

He heaved out a relieved breath and lowered his blaster. “Thought you might be—”

“I know,” she panted, pushing sweaty hair back off her forehead. “I thought about whistling, but then they’d know our signal.”

“So you risked it?”

Shouts echoed through the old compound.

“It’s usually not a problem,” Omega hissed back. “When Zara’s here, and I can just—you know—think at her, and she tells you not to shoot.”

“She’s coming back, right?”

Omega twisted around and peeked over the wall, ducking back down quickly as three more shots hit the wall behind her. “Yeah, yeah, she just didn’t know how long it would be when she left. Guess the Protectors—”

“They play fast and loose these days, with no throne to protect.”

“Should we be there? Since we’re Mandalorians too?”

Echo snorted. “We’re not the right kind of Mandalorians. Well…” he frowned, listening to the shouts and shots a few buildings away, trying to decide who was winning, “We’re not necessarily the wrong kind of Mandalorians, especially if Zara speaks for us—”

“She told me she could adopt us,” Omega giggled, “but that would make… things… weird.”

“What things?” Echo feigned innocence. “Things like none of our names sounding good with Rau? Wrecker Rau?” He shuddered.

“Omega Rau sounds good. And it’s not like any of your names sound more awkward than Zara Rau.”

“That’s fair.”

The compound fell quiet and Echo peered over the wall. He came back down with a frown.

“All gone?”

“All gone.”

“Huh. I wonder—” Omega cut off with a shocked yelp.

Echo, fully aware of his occasional shortcomings as a brother/father/mother figure, left her for dead and scrambled back around the crumbling wall the way he had come.

“Coward!” Omega laughed after him, slumping dramatically over the wall, the back of her shirt soaked with water.

“Yep!”

“Avenge meeeee!” she wailed in the throes of a badly-acted death scene.

“Will do, kid.”

Confident he had cover from whoever had sniped Omega—undoubtedly Crosshair—Echo looked toward the rest of the old market district—Pabu’s new official water gun and laser tag arena. Hunter was sprawled dramatically against the old burned-out pastry shop, chatting quietly with Wrecker, whose boots were just visible behind the old ice cream stand.

Hunter glanced up at Echo, then gestured between Wrecker and himself. “We’re both dead.”

Echo nodded. “As you were then.”

Wrecker sat up and leaned around the ice cream stand just far enough to give Echo a not-entirely-sincere salute, then flopped back down. “Should still sell ice cream out of this place,” he grumbled.

Hunter nodded as Echo jogged off in a crouch. “Maybe delivery-style. You get shot, they send a runner in with your consolation ice cream.”

Wrecker gasped. “We could train Batcher to run ice cream!”

“Yes!” Omega chimed from across the square. “Lyana and I will start tonight!”

Chuckling, Echo rounded the corner and crept up the stairs. With Hunter and Wrecker out as well as Omega, that left one member of each team—him, Tech, and Crosshair. He was sure Crosshair was sniping from the roof of the bar, but where Tech was—especially if he hadn’t been there to watch Hunter’s back—

Echo tripped as he rounded the corner, falling forward hard onto something definitely not stairs. Two shots hit the wall where he had been. Swearing, he shrank lower and hauled Tech into a sitting position in front of him to block two more shots that came from Crosshair’s rifle, very visible from here.

“Come on, help me out a little,” Echo grunted.

“That would be against the regulations,” Tech said, letting his head loll to the other side. “Per the rules of the engagement, I am functionally dead—”

“All right, all right.” Echo managed to prop Tech’s shoulder against the inside corner wall so he was sitting up and creating just enough cover for Echo to kneel behind him. “How many shots does he have?”

“I am deceased and therefore unable to assist you.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Were you at least having fun before Crosshair got you?”

“Oh yes!” Tech’s eyes lit up the way they always did when he got to talk, uninterrupted, about something he loved. “I enjoy all of our tactical simulation games. And Hunter and I have worked out a new plan—143—that we both think will benefit the group. Though, of course, we will have to wait until Zara returns to truly test its effectiveness.”

Echo nodded, poked his head over Tech’s shoulder, and slowly straightened up. Crosshair’s rifle was no longer visible. Then again, Crosshair knew it was just the two of them left. He might have moved to a better position knowing Echo would head to his usual sniper’s nest to dig him out, or maybe he had taken a page out of Echo’s book and was hunting him down at this very moment, or maybe—and this way was the way to madness.

Echo took a quick breath and ran for it. He dodged around Tech, keeping his head low as he bolted up the stairs and dove behind a pile of crates. There was a scraping, scuffling sound overhead, the sound of Crosshair getting into a different position.

Echo nodded to himself. Still up there. He’d take the back ladder—Crosshair would never expect him to come up that way—hopefully there would be some tables or something up there for cover, then one quick shot to the back of the head, and Echo and Omega would win and receive that most glorious of prizes: picking tonight’s movie.

He crept across the empty balcony, eased his way up the ladder, and peeked onto the roof.

Nothing?

He frowned and moved up one rung.

There it was. A boot, just visible from behind a table that had been flopped on its side to provide some cover. Keeping to a low crouch, Echo crept closer. Only two more steps, then he’d stand up and shoot—he and Omega had picked a movie already—and—

BANG!

The table fell forward, legs sticking up in the air.

Echo jumped, nearly out of his skin and a good foot off the ground.

“It’s not what you think,” Crosshair grumbled, sprawled face down, a long red nerftail just visible behind and under where his neck and shoulder joined.

“Oh?” Echo said, raising his pistol and popping three shots into Crosshair’s back. “Because it looks like Zara got back early and decided to, uh, surprise you.”

“Already dead, idiot.”

From underneath Crosshair, Zara sat up, jerked his rifle to her shoulder, and pulled the trigger twice. She grinned as Echo hacked a cough, the impact of the water blasts on his throat sending him staggering. “Decided to surprise all of you, Cross was just convenient.”

“Hate you,” Crosshair grumbled.

Zara laughed. “And you’ll hate me more when you hear what I picked for movie night, as is my right as the victor!” She bounded to her feet, propped Crosshair’s rifle at shoulder arms on one side and reached down with the other hand to pull the surly sniper to his feet and then into a side hug. “Just admit it, you missed me.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Missed you a little. And I wouldn’t have missed you when I tried to shoot you when you first got here, but you cheated.”

“Using the Force isn’t cheating.”

“It’s kind of cheating.”

“Listen, I can’t turn it off any more than you boys can turn off your enhancements, and we don’t tell Hunter to plug his nose and ears, so kriff off.”

Echo nodded. “You don’t tell her not to use the Force when she’s on your team.”

“Completely different,” Crosshair scoffed.

“Why?” Echo scoffed back.

Crosshair grinned and slung an arm around Zara’s shoulders. “Because I get to pick the movie then.”

“Not tonight!” Zara’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Tonight we watch The Many Adventures of Togo the Tooka!”

[foxwithadarkside]

They did it again. I mixed the two fanfics written for this pic.

@clone-protection-agency @pinetree-tbb

Summer of Bad Batch

Week 1/Alt. Prompt: “It’s not what you think.” Week 5 Main Prompt: “You’re a bad liar.” Week 9 Main Prompt: “Hold still.” @summer-of-bad-batch

[clone-protection-agency]

"It's not what you think"

Week 1 Alt. Prompt: "It's not what you think." Rating: Teen (it's a kissing fic!) Word Count: 1180 written for @summer-of-bad-batch AO3 link

“Well that’s quite a story you’ve got there.”

Tech nodded, welcoming the praise. Tearing his eyes away from the setting sun on Pabu, he stole a glance at Phee. She looked quite comfortable in the co-pilot’s seat in the Marauder’s cockpit as he had regaled her with tales of his missions in the GAR.

Her eyes were also very much locked on him, and he was surprised to find that instead of feeling self-conscious in this moment, he felt a touch of intrigue.

This was not the first time they’d spent hours conversing about their past adventures and generally enjoying each other’s company, but it was the first time they did so while the sunset bathed the cockpit in warm tones of orange and pink, casting a golden glow over everything it touched, including Phee. Her skin. Her eyes. Her hair. Her smile. He was lost in the beauty of it all, and felt himself drawn a bit closer in her direction.

“It is indeed,” he murmured, holding her gaze as he tried to read the intent in her eyes, and was struck a little speechless for once.

He blinked and felt a sharp sting in his eye. Pulling back to sit upright (was he really just leaning that closely to her?), he lifted his goggles slightly to reach a bare finger underneath to rub at his eye. Blinking and still not finding a change, he sighed in frustration and tried again.

“You okay there, Brown Eyes?” Phee inquired, a puzzled expression on her face.

“An eyelash seems to have landed on my cornea. Fortunately, this is the only limitation of my eyewear.” Tech shut both of his eyes to get a temporary moment of relief.

“Let me help.” Phee did not give him a chance to respond before he felt the warmth of her left hand cup his cheek as his seat dipped slightly from additional weight. “Now, open your eye and look up,” she instructed, as she shifted the goggles to his hairline.

As soon as he obeyed, he felt her sharply blow into his eye and he blinked rapidly in response.

“How is it now?” Phee asked.

Tech tested his blinking at normal speed, surprised that the eyelash was gone. “That was not the method I would have chosen to remove a foreign body from my cornea, yet I am intrigued that it worked. I shall make a note of it for future use in a similar situation where there is no immediate eyewash station available.” He blinked again. With both his eyes now in working order, he was acutely aware of their current proximity. She was leaning into the seat, into his space, with one knee pressed into the seat between his thighs, her right hand bracing on the backrest of the pilot’s seat, while the other hand still cupped his cheek.

Phee chuckled lightly, “Happy to help expand that database of yours, Brown Eyes.” She quieted as their gazes met. “Your eyes really are gorgeous,” she whispered.

Tech felt the warmth rush to his face at the same time he saw a light dusting of colour on her cheeks, visible even without his goggles. She was so much more lovely up close. He instinctively leaned in.

With a swishing sound, the Marauder’s cockpit door slid open at the same time Wrecker’s voice started to boom in the smaller space.

“Food’s read-“ he froze, taking in the scene before him.

“It’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what you think,” Phee corrected, her gaze never leaving Tech, though his had darted towards Wrecker at the time of intrusion. His eyes returned to hers at her honest confession.

“Uh-“ Wrecker awkwardly started backing out through the door. “Food’s ready, when you’re uh... done.”

Tech heard the door slide shut just as suddenly as it had opened. “Is it?” he asked inquisitively, completely forgetting Wrecker’s words and focusing on Phee’s.

“Well, how about you try to find out for yourself,” Phee smirked teasingly, bringing his focus to her lips.

Before he could think too much on whether she was just playing or not, before he could think, Tech closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips into hers.

The feeling was like no other he had ever experienced in his accelerated life thus far, and he melted into it. Phee’s lips were soft as she sighed into his, the hand that was gently cupping his cheek slipping down a little, the softness in direct opposition to his racing heartbeat.

Their lips lingered as time lost all meaning.

Tech eventually pulled away, slowly, to look at her, and found that she looked similarly dazed. He was pleasantly surprised.

“I believe the results of this hypothesis speak for itself,” he murmured, smiling warmly at the comfortable presence in his personal space.

“Do you now? Care to keep testing it?” Phee’s eyes lit up playfully.

“Once you are amenable,” Tech quipped, and found his hands closing around her waist.

This time, Phee’s mouth crashed onto his in a not-so-chaste kiss and he matched her fervor. His fingers dug into the fabric around her waist as he found his body being pressed back into the seat when she shifted position to straddle him, lips parting over and over again but never really leaving his. The pressure of Phee’s thighs on his was both electric and muted in comparison to the way her mouth moved on his, expressing all unspoken feelings at once. Tech seemed to have forgotten how to breathe but he honestly did not care at this point, instinctively splaying his fingers behind her head to deepen the kiss, while his other hand slipped down from her waist to her hip for a better hold. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest when her tongue slipped past his lips, and he was pleasantly amazed at how much he enjoyed this new experience, and did not want it to stop.

He really did forget to breathe though.

Gasping for air, he broke off the kiss. They both breathed heavily in each other’s arms. Distracted by everything else, Tech had only just noticed that both of hers were wrapped around his neck in a loving embrace. He liked the feeling of her skin on his, and would prefer if it would remain there. He also quite liked the weight of her body in his lap and pressed to his chest, and hoped that she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. Tech glanced apprehensively at the cockpit door.

“Oh don’t worry, Brown Eyes” Phee got out between breaths. “Your brother will definitely spread the word to stay out of the cockpit tonight,” she finished coyly, a wicked glint in her eye. “Now, where were we?”

Tech waited a beat, taking the moment to kickstart his brain. “I thought it was obvious,” he smirked, taking a calculated risk as both hands lowered past her hips to grip somewhere much more dangerous.

It turned out that Phee was indeed correct. The cockpit door stayed shut long throughout the night.

Upon seeing the absolute cutest TechPhee art that I have ever laid eyes upon while scrolling through @summer-of-bad-batch reblogs, my brain absolutely craved that exact scenario in a first kiss fic, and rather than hoping someone else would write it, decided to try my hand at fic writing, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER IN MY LIFE.

(pls don't hate it)

Is this what fic writing is like? Giving yourself serotonin with every written word? Gah! I can get used to this.

Cutest art ever by @foxwithadarkside

Side note: OMG I did not see the original post update until I was looking for the direct link to put here because the update didn't show in the reblogged post and LOL why are all brains the sameeee. Well, 2 cakes is better than 1 cake <3

[tlmtwelve]

Echo wasn't sure how much armor he'd need to wear for the water gun fight (he didn't believe Hunter when he said 'none')

Week 1 Prompt: @summer-of-bad-batch

[That's the last page of my dedicated Summer of Bad Batch sketchbook! 😭]

[happydragon]

Revenge Best Served Wet

Summary: It should be known, that an angry Omega is a scary Omega

AO3

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 719

“Whatcha doin’ there Meg?” Hunter asked as he crossed his arms and watched his twelve and a half year old sister fill up what seemed to be a water gun from the kitchen sink. That wasn’t really a strange sight seeing as Fives got her those last month when he, Echo, and Rex visited. She and Fives spent almost all weekend playing with the new toys and no one was safe from the chaos that was unleashed. 

The truly strange sight was her dressed in a gray tank top with camo pants and one his bandanas wrapped around her forehead. Her face seemed to be smeared with mud and dirt, four lines across her face as if she did it with her own fingers. Thankfully that was the only place he saw any, with the rest of her being mostly clean. In addition to the gun in her hand, she had another one strapped to her back 

“I’m preparing to hunt down Crosshair,” Omega answered casually, as if you asked her what time it was. 

It had been six months since Crosshair left the Empire and rejoined his family in their relatively new home. It had been a rocky start for all of them, especially Hunter and Crosshair, but like always they learned and adapted. More often than not, it felt like Cross never left. Omega definitely loved having another brother to do stuff with.  

“Uh huh.” Hunter leaned against the counter as he watched her fill up two refillable bottles that could be exchanged when her water gun ran out. Fives picked out a nice set.

“Do I want to know what he did to incur your wrath?”

She leveled him with a glare that made the hairs stand on the back of his neck. 

“He ate my leftovers.” With that, she ran out the backdoor to do Maker knows what. Hunter decided it would be best if he stayed out of this fight. 

An hour or so later, he heard the tell-tell sign of Crosshair’s car coming into the driveway. Hunter was slightly surprised to hear his brother open the door and watch him walk into the living room completely dry. Hunter would have figured Omega would have attacked as soon as Cross got home, which made him only more terrified of what she had planned. Echo and Tech were horrible influences. 

“Why are you so surprised to see me?” Crosshair asked, pulling Hunter away from the horrors. 

“No reason,” he dodged, “On an unrelated note, did you eat Omega’s leftovers?”

“Depends. Were they in a to-go box?” Hunter nodded. “Then yeah. Took it with me for lunch. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t. Omega did and she’s out for revenge.”

Crosshair scoffed. Oh boy. 

“What’s the worst she could do? Give me the silent treatment?”

“I promise you, it’s not what you think.”

Crosshair looked warilly at Hunter before he headed upstairs to his bedroom. Hunter was just about to settle back into watching whatever show was on when a yowl made him jump. It came from Crosshair’s room. Terrified, Hunter ran as fast as he could, only to find Crosshair tensed up at his bedroom door, a wet spot directly in the middle of his shirt. When Hunter peeked inside his brother’s room, he found none other than his sister stradling the open window, water gun aimed toward Crosshair. Her mouth was set into a viscous smirk at successfully catching her brother off guard. What truly concerned Hunter though, was that she was on the window when he never heard her come back in. 

“Omega!” he exclaimed, “How did you get there?!”

“I climbed the lattice to the roof,” she shrugged. The window would already be unlocked because Crosshair liked to sometimes sit on the roof of the back porch, so it really did make the best way to sneak up on him. 

“You’ll pay for that,” Crosshair spat. 

“I look forward to it,” Omega grinned, “You’ll find your weapon on your bed. See you in the backyard in five.”

With that, she climbed off the wind and ran back over to the lattice. Crosshair snatched the water gun and followed her out the window. Hunter watched for a moment before shutting the window, silently telling himself to warn Tech and Wrecker away from the backyard.

Hope y'all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! Super excited for this summer!!!