#bonus prompt

[steddieas-shegoes]

soft on the bottom

rated e | 345 words | cw: sexual content | tags: top Steve, bottom Eddie, soft sex, established relationship, they’re in love and it’s very obvious

for @steddiemicrofic bonus prompt ‘bottom’

happy birthday to the queen of poetic words and edging me personally, @wynnyfryd! I’m so glad you messaged me almost a whole year ago and talked yourself into making a microfic blog. now look at us! basically making out via internet daily!

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Eddie hadn’t bothered with prepping beyond making sure he was clean. Steve told him he wanted to do it all.

Steve was nervous, his hands shaking as he poured lube on his fingers. Eddie was too busy watching Steve to let his own nerves bother him.

He hadn’t bottomed in a while, couple years at least, not since that one guy refused any position that didn’t have Eddie’s face against a wall or in a pillow. He’d had his own fingers in there occasionally, but this was different.

“I’m not gonna break,” Eddie smiled up at Steve minutes later, when Steve still hadn’t progressed beyond one finger slowly moving in and out. “You can give me more.”

“Maybe I wanna take my time,” Steve kissed his forehead, let his lips linger as he added a second finger.

He was waiting for Eddie to lead.

So Eddie guided him with words, moans, soft praise. He let his hand cup the back of Steve’s head to bring him closer, a reward for finding the spot inside him that made his toes curl and his heart beat harder in his chest. He wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, tugging him closer as he guided his cock inside.

It didn’t hurt, but it did take Eddie a moment to get adjusted to the feeling of being full. Steve waited, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand.

“Never had this before,” Eddie whispered, shaking voice echoing in his own ears.

“What?” Steve’s brows drew together in confusion.

“Someone who wanted to have me, not just take me.”

Steve kissed him like he was apologizing, though he’d never done anything wrong. He kissed like he could stay like this, settled inside Eddie, all day, all night. Eddie kissed him back like he wanted Steve to become a permanent part of him.

It was slow, and imperfect, and sweaty. Eddie couldn’t come without a hand on him, but Steve caught on quick.

When they were curled together after, Eddie traced words into Steve’s palm and felt something settle in his chest.

[tinytalkingtina]

Shaking things up a little

Written for the @steddiemicrofic May bonus birthday round for @wynnyfryd with the prompt "bottom". Happy birthday! :D

345 words | rating G

Tags: Parents Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson, established relationship, Steve is a bartender, alcohol (but only in reference to using bartending tools to make non-alcoholic drinks)

Inspired by that video of the bartender entertaining his toddler that was circulating around a month ago!

Ao3 link

“Steve, what exactly are you doing right now?” Steve glanced at Eddie as he arranged his tools on the counter. “Fixing our little man a drink, what does it look like I’m doing?” Said little man’s bottom was currently parked in his high chair. Xander’s attention was fixed entirely on Steve’s antics as he tossed a sippy cup behind his shoulder and caught it. Their son squealed in delight, banging his empty bowl on the tray. Steve smiled. “Oh, you want something to tide you over? One second my good sir.” Steve grabbed a bottle of juice, presenting the label to Xander then pouring a little into the sippy cup. “Of course we can’t forget a touch of luxury.” He grabbed a pair of tongs and rummaged around in a box of graham crackers for a second before placing one in the empty bowl while Xander was distracted with picking up the cup. “And now for your order, one bottle shaken, not stirred, coming right up!” Eddie smiled as Steve showed off, flipping the tongs back into his holster and using his bartender’s mixing spoon and jigger to measure out formula and water into a bottle. Closing it up, he shook the bottle up and down then side to side. Steve concluded the silly display with a final toss before spinning himself around. “Tada! If the gentleman will indulge me—” Steve poured a drop onto his finger to taste. He kissed the tips of his fingers. “Mwah, perfection! Please enjoy your drink this lovely evening, we will keep your tab open.” Xander who had been gnawing wide-eyed on the graham cracker immediately rushed for the bottle with a “guh!”. Eddie giggled before walking in to wrap his arms around his husband. “I think my dramatics have rubbed off on you hon. You’ve become 200% sillier since the baby was born.” Steve poked Eddie’s nose in retaliation. “Oh please, I’m still plenty cool. Now, lemme fix you something up too.” Eddie grinned and allowed himself to be drawn into the kitchen filled with happy toddler babbles.

[2024-grimoire-challenge]

Bonus Prompt - Seasonal Magic

Okay everyone, with the changing of the seasons and an eclipse on the way, let’s take a look at the different seasons and how they influence our practices. If you feel so inclined, make a page for each individual season, or if you can fit all you’re going to put on the page on a single page, just do one.

What does each individual season mean to you on a personal level? What does each one represent?

Do the seasons influence the kind of magic you can/ do perform?

Do you have certain rituals that only happen in each season?

What associations does each season have? Animals, tools, plants, feelings, everything!

What months/ days encompass these seasons?

How do the transitional periods between the seasons influence you and your practice? When are the transitional periods? What marks the transitions between them?

What kinds of activities do you do, both magical and mundane, that pertain to each season and how do these influence your perception of each season?

Are there myths, legends or deities that you associate with each season?

Any information you can find about the seasons, anything you feel or know about the seasons, add it to your grimoire, your repository of knowledge!

Good luck and happy crafting!

-Mod Hazel

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

i'm not trying to replace you (only hold on to your memory)

@summer-of-bad-batch bonus prompt "Can you braid my hair?"

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Tech (mentioned) Set after the finale when everyone is living happily on Pabu Word Count: ~1950 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Omega misses the quiet rituals that had been hers and Tech's alone, and turns to Hunter for comfort.

Author's Note:- You all know @kybercrystals94, right? The brilliant mastermind behind the Summer of Bad Batch event? Detail Work is one of Kyber's earliest fics, and one of my favourites. When the hair braiding prompt came up during voting for the event I immediately had an idea for a story that occupies the hollow space of Omega's loss, and leads perfectly into my fic Beach Days & Hair Braiding So go read Detail Work and show Kyber some love, and enjoy this slice of Hunter comforting Omega too! :)

“Hunter!”

The tone of Omega’s cry had Hunter on instant alert, head jerking up from his task stirring the dinner. Omega flew in through the door, running straight at him and into his chest, face buried in his apron.

“Woah,” he soothed, carefully laying the sauce-stained wooden spoon atop the pot and instead cupping one hand to the back of her head, smoothing her hair as he brought his other arm round her shoulders in an awkward embrace. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” came the muffled reply. It was the least-convincing lie he had heard since Wrecker claimed he wasn’t the one who had devoured the entire tray of delicately-prepared dainties Hunter had made specially for one of Echo and Crosshair’s visits.

“Nothing,” he echoed sceptically. He settled her more firmly in his embrace, dropping his head to press a soft kiss to the top of her hair. “Alright then. I guess if nothing is up, I’ll just hold you for no reason… ‘til you’re ready to talk?”

He let his voice lift the sentence into a question, and Omega’s answering nod bobbed against his chest. Hunter squeezed her tightly, pressing reassurance into her with both arms now as they stood in the quiet kitchen and listened to the pots bubble on the stove.

After a while Hunter began to hum a tuneless, absent-minded rhythm, the noise vibrating through his chest and to Omega. Her breathing was evening out now, although he could still feel the pressure of her hands bunched tightly in his shirt-front through the apron.

The apron had been a gift from Omega who had gotten tired of helping him wash the food-splatter stains out of his shirts when he first started learning to cook. Wrecker was much better at cooking than he was, and endlessly teased his brother about being unable to smell when his food was burned or over-seasoned despite his enhanced senses. But Hunter persevered, determined to prove himself capable as more than a weapon of war – to be able to provide for his family in more ways than simply defending them from danger.

“Need to stir this,” he cautioned, nudging the toes of his boots against Omega’s feet. Obediently she lifted them one at a time, standing onto his feet, and let him waddle-shuffle them round so he could face the cooker again, reaching out to retrieve the spoon and attend to the bubbling pot.

Hunter shifted his arm lower across her back, holding her close to him and away from the hot pans.

“Think I made too much,” he said conversationally. “Who shall we invite round for dinner to eat the excess tonight?”

“No-one,” mumbled Omega against his chest. Her hands finally relaxed their death-grip on his shirt, only to go round his middle instead. She turned her face to the side, cheek resting on his chest, and her words became easier to make out. “You can save the leftovers for another day. We should have a quiet night.”

Something was definitely up, but Hunter merely rested his chin on her head as he worked and hummed an agreement.

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want,” he promised.

When everything was cooked – at least, Hunter hoped it was properly cooked ��� he turned off the heat and carried Omega, still standing on his feet, in the same awkward waddle across the tiny kitchen to retrieve plates.

“Not as easy as when you were small,” he lamented with a smile, and that at last drew a giggle from Omega as she hopped down from his feet to help set the cutlery out.

Hunter’s gaze turned pensive as he watched her, though he quickly smoothed the expression into a smile when Omega glanced his way. She had grown so much in the months since they had settled on Pabu – finally, full-time, no half-commitments, settled down. For good.

She still bore the scars of her trauma from Tantiss, probably always would. Kriff, they all did. But each day that passed with more smiles than pain was a victory, and the longer they went without the shadow of the Empire darkening their lives, the more fully Omega relaxed.

Like she finally believed she might be safe.

Even then, she had the occasional day like this.

Plating up their meal and setting both dishes on the small table, Hunter sat opposite Omega. He cast one of his brief smiles her way, before turning his attention to his food.

“So what have you been up to today?” he asked, tone light and conversational; he wasn’t a sergeant asking for a debrief any more. Not to mention that the open question would let Omega tell him as much – or as little – as she was ready to.

“Me and the boys–” meaning the clones Mox, Stak and Deke, “spent the morning cleaning the bay from last night’s storm,” Omega told him, shovelling food into her mouth. At least she hadn’t lost her appetite. “There was loads of cool stuff washed up there. Oh!”

She paused, laying down her cutlery, and reached into her jacket.

A wan smile lit her face behind the hesitation in her eyes, but she looked straight at Hunter as she said, “I made this for you.”

She pulled forth a length of string, coiled and knotted, and threaded with a spiral shell at the bottom. The twine – old fisher-net rope, if Hunter judged it correctly – was pushed through a natural perforation near the top of the shell, and the whole thing still carried the salt-rich scent of the ocean.

“It’s a necklace,” Omega supplied, as though it needed the explanation.

Hunter reached out and took it from her, carefully turning the shell in his hands and admiring the gentle intricacy of the spiral and the soft iridescence as it caught the light. Then he looped the string over his head, letting the shell hang against his sternum, over his heart.

“I love it,” he told her with a genuine grin, continuing to hold the shell with his left hand as with his right he resumed eating. “Did you find anything else?”

“Some tarpaulin we can probably patch,” she said, “and… I think it’s part of the Marauder’s nav console?” And she produced a dented metal cylinder, the transparisteel cover cracked and broken.

Hunter nodded, inspecting the part. When the Marauder exploded – was destroyed – debris had scored the mountain-face of the island near the docks, and been scattered wide into the ocean. They were still finding pieces all this time later.

“We can probably repurpose it for something,” he said, setting it down to continue his meal. “What did you do with the rest of the day?”

“I was helping Phee rewire her ship–”

Omega’s words choked off and she stuffed a huge forkful of food into her mouth to cover it. Hunter had noticed though. He watched as Omega chewed, gaze downcast and eyes too-bright, and knew they were getting close to what had upset her.

“Something happen with Phee?” he asked carefully, nudging her ankle under the table to show his support.

“Not really,” said Omega with a head-shake, then abruptly, “Can you braid my hair?”

“What?”

Hunter blinked, nonplussed at the sudden turn in conversation and Omega’s demanding tone. She was staring at him with a hard, uncompromising line to her mouth, the corners just downturned, and with her brown eyes shining with near-tears she looked for all the world the same as his brothers had when they were stubborn cadets. Probably looked like he had, too.

“I, uh…” He glanced at her blonde hair, the lengths escaping her pony-tail tucked behind her ears. “I don’t know how,” he admitted, then gestured vaguely. “Why don’t you ask Lyana?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Omega’s expression closed off, her gaze dropping away from his once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, then pushed her plate away. “I’m finished. Gonna have an early night–”

“Now hang on a second–” Hunter stood with her, chair scraping on the floor as he stepped quickly to block her path. She wouldn’t look at him but she didn’t shrug him off as he rested a hand on her upper arm, rubbing soothingly. “Omega. Why do you want me to braid your hair?” he asked, making sure to put the gentle emphasis in the right place.

Omega sniffed, and at last those threatened tears beaded on her lashes, starting to track down her tanned cheeks.

“I miss Tech,” she whispered, voice wobbling a little through the tears she fought to swallow. “He used to braid my hair for me. I… I was hoping you would…”

She trailed off hopelessly, and with a sympathetic noise Hunter pulled her back into a hug, holding her close and swaying slightly.

Casting his mind back, he remembered coming back from supply runs to find Omega with a neat pair of braids in her still-short hair, tied carefully at the nape of her neck. He pressed his cheek tightly against her hair now, giving her ponytail a gentle flick.

“Tech did your hair?” he asked with a smile, surprised to find the thickness of grief in his throat as he spoke. “I always thought you did it yourself.”

Omega gave a laugh which was almost a sob. “I found some instructions on the holonet but I couldn’t get it right. Tech was… Tech was so good at detail work.” She was trembling in his arms, but this was good, that she was releasing the pressure of her grief instead of keeping it inside for fear of upsetting her brothers. “I was hoping… You might be able to…”

Hunter angled his head, pressing a fond kiss to her temple and holding her tightly. “Of course,” he murmured, voice holding a promise he didn’t know how to deliver, but Force help him he’d try. “I’d be honoured.”

She relaxed a little into his arms, a shudder of grief passing between them as he willed love into her. Eventually she pulled back, swiping at her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeve, but she was smiling.

“You’ll learn to do it then? Braid my hair?”

Hunter nodded fervently. “I’ll find someone to teach me.”

He reached up, stroking the stray ends of her hair that clung to her damp cheeks and brushing them back so he could see her face, blotchy and pink with crying. He took her cheeks in his hands, holding her face gently cupped as he smiled down at her. Letting a glimpse of his own sorrow leach past his usual mask, he breathed out a sigh.

“Can’t promise I’ll be as good at it as Tech,” he cautioned, playfully flipping the ends of her hair. “Your hair always looked lovely like that, Omega.” He smiled, keeping one hand cupped to her cheek. “He’d be so proud of how you’ve grown.”

Omega sniffed, but now she was smiling even if it was with an ache of sadness.

“I think I’m still going to have that early night,” she said, stepping back at last.

Hunter let his arms drop to his sides, a slow movement that ached with the reticence of releasing her, but that was his role in her life now. Learning to let her go. Still being here when she needed to run home to his arms.

“Sure thing, kid,” he said softly, offering her one last pat to the shoulder. “I’ll clean up out here.”

“Maybe… I could keep my door open?” suggested Omega. “So I can hear you?”

Hunter smiled and gave her a gentle push towards her room.

“Whatever you want,” he promised, and he meant it.

Whatever she wanted. Whatever she needed.

He would be there for her.

Time to learn to braid hair.

[kybercrystals94]

Anything

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 3 | Prompt: "Forget I asked." | Bonus Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

Rated: G | Words: 1190

Crosshair wakes to a snuffling sound, and turns over to find his sister standing next to his bed. “Omega? What’s wrong?” 

“I got sick,” Omega mutters, and her breath trembles. She’s crying, softly, quietly. 

Crosshair reaches over and clicks on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow of light. But the warmth does not extend to Omega’s face, her skin pale and eyes red rimmed. She blinks rapidly, and a tear escapes, creating another shiny track down her ashen cheek. She does not look well at all. 

Of all the times for Hunter and Wrecker to be gone on a supply trip for the island. 

Sitting up, Crosshair asks, “Got sick where?” He really hopes he doesn’t have to clean anything up. 

“I made it to the fresher,” Omega tells him, “but I still feel awful.” 

“Alright,” Crosshair says, nodding. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” 

He guides Omega out of his room, a hand on her shoulder. Even through her nightshirt, he can feel that she’s unusually warm. Not a dangerously high fever, he decides, but enough to make her feel miserable. The common room has a couch and a chair, and he gives her a gentle nudge towards the couch. “Lay down. I’ll be back.” 

Crosshair goes to Omega’s room and finds her blankets in a pile on the floor, hastily discarded in her flight to the fresher to throw up, he imagines. He picks up the thickest of the blankets and drapes it over his right arm and then grabs her pillow. He notices the red tip of Lula’s ear peeking out from under the bed, and after a second thought, snatches the tooka stuffy up too. 

When he returns to the common room, Omega is laying on her side on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest and shivering. She looks pitiful, and the twinge of sympathy Crosshair feels reverberates deeply in his chest cavity. “Here, I brought your pillow and blanket.” 

Omega lifts her head and lets Crosshair shove the pillow under her. He then drapes the blanket over her, and props Lula beside her. Omega watches him dully. “Thanks,” she whispers. 

“We have tea. It might help with the nausea,” Crosshair says. “Do you think you could take medicine?”

Omega nods. 

Crosshair retreats to the kitchen to try and find where Hunter keeps the tea. He and his brothers are typically caf drinkers; however, housewarming gifts from the islanders had supplied them with enough tea to last several clone lifetimes. He puts some water in a kettle to boil and then spends the next five minutes digging through every cupboard before he finds where Hunter stashed the stuff. Crosshair isn’t really sure what kind of tea helps nausea, so he just chooses the one that smells the best, dropping the teabag in Omega’s favorite mug. 

After letting the brew steep for several minutes, he takes the steaming beverage back to the common room. Omega smiles wanly and pushes herself up to sit cross legged, arranging the blanket over her lap before taking the mug of tea from Crosshair. “You’re pretty good at this taking care of sick people stuff,” she says, putting her nose to the brim of the mug to inhale the steam with a sigh. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Surprised?” 

“A little,” Omega admits with a grin.

Crosshair huffs and leaves to search for medicine. When he returns, Omega looks like she’s going to be sick again. Quickly, he takes her mug and she stumbles to her feet, briefly getting tangled in the blanket, before stumbling back to the fresher. 

Crosshair follows and arrives in time to find her kneeling over the toilet and emptying whatever is left in her stomach. He hesitates a moment before stepping inside and awkwardly gathering up her hair with his left hand, holding it at the nape of her neck. The long seconds drag into several minutes before Omega finally leans back. Crosshair releases his hold on her hair and hands her a towel to wipe her mouth. 

“Ugh,” Omega growls. “I hate being sick.” 

Crosshair agrees with a hum and helps Omega to her feet. She rinses her mouth out in the sink before shuffling back into the living room and collapsing on the couch. 

“Do you want to try your tea again?” Crosshair asks. 

Omega shakes her head. “Not yet.” 

Crosshair nods and sits down next to her, picking up the puddle of blanket from the floor and tossing it over her lap. Omega reaches up and brushes back her hair. “Could you…” she starts, but cuts herself off, frowning and dropping her hands. 

“What?” Crosshair asks. 

“Nothing,” Omega mumbles, “Forget I asked.”

“No, tell me. What do you need?” Crosshair insists. 

Omega sighs. “I was just gonna ask if you could braid my hair, but…” 

Oh. Crosshair had braided Omega’s hair before, back when he first came to Pabu after their escape from Tantiss. Hunter and Wrecker had gone to find Fennec Shand, and Omega had asked if he knew how. With the tremble in his right hand, the braids had been loose and messy; however, Omega had proudly worn them all day.

He stares down at his singular hand, nondominant and clumsy when it comes to more intricate efforts. Besides, braiding hair took two hands, not one and a stump. And while it isn’t his fault the simple request can’t be fulfilled, Crosshair feels like he’s failed. 

“I’m sorry,” Omega says, “I forget sometimes.” 

Crosshair doesn’t like the guilt in his sister’s voice. “Welcome to the club,” he says, hoping to ease the tension. 

It doesn’t. 

Crosshair stands up. “I’ve got an idea…but I’ll need to borrow something.” 

Omega looks at him quizzically. “What?” 

“I might only have one hand, but between the two of us, we have three. I think I can make due.” 

The girl immediately brightens. She tells Crosshair where to find her hair ties and brush in her room, and soon Crosshair is brushing through a tangle of blond locks and creating a careful part down the middle. Under his direction, Omega offers up her right hand to hold whatever strands of hair Crosshair puts in her fingers, as he sloppily weaves a braid down from her hairline. Crosshair’s snippy instructions are taken in the spirit they are delivered, Omega giggling and outright laughing as she tries to follow blindly along, acting as Crosshair’s literal right hand. Crosshair smiles at the sound. 

After nearly an hour of effort, Omega has two lopsided braids, bumps of unruly hair poking out where the coordination effort fell short. 

“Do they look nice?” Omega asks sweetly. 

Crosshair snorts. “They look like kark, but they'll do the job.” 

Omega laughs. “Thanks, Crosshair.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Crosshair says. 

“I think I’m ready for my tea now,” Omega says, “but it’s probably cold.” 

Crosshair heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll make you a fresh cup. Anything else, m’lady?” 

Omega considers. “Maybe some crackers?” 

“Of course, anything for you,” Crosshair retorts, but the sarcasm is muted by a soft smile, and the reality that he really would do anything. 

END

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[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch

Bonus prompt: Can you braid my hair

I cannot do background, however I have been on a roll recently and I am very happy with how these turned out.

I showed my dad the art and he laughed saying that he found it funny that they Bad Batch boys were braiding their hair...clearly, he did not see the chivalry and caring nature of these boys.

I love these boys

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Out of Darkness, Into Light

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Bonus Prompt | Prompt: Light in the Darkness

Summary: Only darkness. Only the algorithm. Only the machine. Alone. Always alone. POV: Echo Rating: PG (Word Count: 475)

Read on Ao3

 “Echo, look out!”

        Fives was shouting, but Echo could barely hear him over the persistent roar of blaster fire surrounding him, targeting him, he needed to take out that turret gun, he needed to save the shuttle so they could all escape…

        A deafening boom. Searing, blistering heat. Concussive force. Shredded skin, muscle, bone. Intolerable pain.

       Darkness. 

***

        A hazy grayness. So much pain. Excruciating, constant, overwhelming agony. Please, bring back the darkness…

***

        Voices. Not Fives. Not friends. The blackness, the darkness has subsided to gray again. Wide eyes – a droid. And machines. Lots of machines. Can’t move. Paralyzed limbs – no, missing limbs. Device at his arm. Sparks. Why are there sparks where his arm should be? Whirring drowns out the voices. Pain overpowers the grayness. Darkness.

***

        Machines. More machines. More pain. More grayness. More darkness.

***

        Machines. More machines. Voices. No friends. Alone. Always alone.

***

        Machines. More machines. No flesh. Only metal. Always metal. No warmth. Only cold. Ice cold metal. Metal machines turn him to metal. Put him in a machine. He is the machine.

***

        No gray. Only darkness. Only queries. Only battle strategies. Only the algorithm. Only the machine.

***

        Query: Who is this?

        Who. Who? A machine is a what. Not a who…

        A pinprick of light. He is not “what,” but “who.” He has a designation, he has a name. Name? No. Not a name. A number.

        Respond: CT-1409.

***

        The pinprick of light has faded. No gray. Only darkness. Only the algorithm. Only the machine. Alone. Always alone.

        And then… Grayness, but more than that. Is that… Warmth?

        “Echo.”

        Voices. Why… How… Familiar voice. Familiar name. His name.

        Unplugged, somewhere. Release, ever so slight. Release from the machine.

        “… gotta get him out… figure out… this mess.”

        Warmth grows. Cold fades. Hands. Hands of flesh, not metal. Hands, warm arms holding him, his… body. His body of flesh. Not just metal. Not just machine.

        “What have they done to you?”

        Familiar voice. Memories. Where… Citadel. Rescue the Jedi. Trap. Droids everywhere. We have to get to the shuttle to escape the citadel. No. I’ll go first.

        “Echo. Echo!”

        Echo. Echo, look out! Fives… No, this isn’t Fives. Why is Rex calling his name? Memory of sound, heat, pain…

        “It’s Rex. I’m here.”

        Grayness abruptly gives way to clarity. Familiar voice. Familiar face.

        “Rex? You came back for me.”

        “Yes. Yes, I did.”

        Why… What… Memories of machines, cold, metal, alone. Fading memories. Fading nightmare.

        “What happened? Where am I?”

        “It’s okay, Echo. You’re safe now. Just sit tight, trooper. You’re going home.”

        Rex, a familiar face, a friendly face, a trusted face. Now here’s a new face, a serious but kind face, kind eyes. Tech. A new brother.

        No more machine. Only friends. Only brothers.

        No more cold. Only warmth.

        No more darkness. Only light.   

@summer-of-bad-batch

[lifblogs]

Not Just the Braid

Bonus Prompt: “Can you braid my hair?”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1068

Summary: Omega has a ridiculous request that Crosshair doesn’t know how to fulfill, and does not want to fulfill: braiding Omega’s hair.

READ ON AO3

“Can you? Can you? Can you? Pleeaassee?” Omega asked for the millionth time.

Crosshair knew more than anyone that she was persistent, but this had lasted through breakfast. Crosshair wasn’t even done with his caf yet!

He’d already tried, no, why don’t you ask someone else?, stop, and I’m sick today (he wasn’t, and being sick wouldn’t even impede what she wanted, in most cases). Now he sighed, putting his caf down and going with the honest response, “I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I,” Omega admitted.

“So you’re a girl…” Crosshair began as Omega took a seat up beside him at the counter.

“Mm hmm.”

“…whose hair is long enough for this…”

“Mm hmm.”

“…and you don’t know how to do it either?”

Omega gave a bit of a laugh, trying to take Crosshair’s caf to have a sip.

She wilted when he grabbed it from her, glaring as he took a sip himself.

“Where would I have learned? Prison?”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Thanks.”

Omega crossed her arms and settled her head on them, looking at him, and looking at him.

“What, you think I learned it in prison? Some experiment where clones all learned to braid each other’s hair, and—” He wasn’t liking this little joke anymore. “Never mind.”

“I’ll do my chores without complaining.”

“You like chores.” Strange kid.

Omega tried grabbing his caf again.

“Pick your battles,” he grumbled.

“Fine.” She sat up, and started walking away.

“Wait, what?”

Omega didn’t say a word. Crosshair paused, eyeing his caf. Maybe he should pick his battles too.

Omega had gone down the hall to the bedrooms where everyone was presumably getting ready for their day.

Crosshair cursed and hurried after her when he realized Omega was knocking on Hunter’s door.

“In a minute,” Hunter called.

“Omega, just because he was your dad first—”

“Shush,” she told him, waving a hand at him.

“Young lady.”

“Shusshh.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Hunter opened the door, and Crosshair scowled (what was he supposed to do now that he was blushing and made to feel like a child?).

“What’s the problem?” Hunter asked.

“Crosshair won’t braid my hair.”

Hunter and Crosshair shared a look. Hunter’s expression seemed to say, This again? Crosshair gave a slight nod.

Hunter sighed, and Crosshair started feeling triumphant. Yes, he wouldn’t have to do this because—

“Crosshair, braid Omega’s hair.”

“What?”

“That’s an order.”

Omega thanked Hunter, hugging him, and then raced back to the kitchen, for…

…Crosshair sighed…

…his caf. She was finishing his caf.

“Hunter, I don’t know how to braid hair.”

“Figure it out.”

“Why can’t you do it? You actually have hair.”

Hunter ran a hand through said hair. “As if I’d ever braid this.”

Crosshair gave him a light shove. “You’re annoying.”

Somehow word got out in the small house that Crosshair would be braiding Omega’s hair to help her get ready for the day because now Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter were sitting on the patio with them. Only Tech was pretending he wasn’t watching.

“Is the audience necessary?” Crosshair asked, tone as sharp as if he was accusing them of war crimes.

“Technically speaking, no,” Tech answered, “but I happen to find your current predicament amusing.”

“What he said,” Wrecker agreed.

Crosshair sighed and set his attention to the kid in front of him who did not want to sit still.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stop moving.”

“It’s the caf.”

“Why do you think you’re not supposed to have it?”

Crosshair took Omega’s brush from the table as Batcher came over and looked at it like it was a toy.

He did his best to start brushing her hair, but he had only ever seen this done, not done it himself.

Omega stilled, and leaned back into it. Was that a good sign? Was he doing good?

“I do believe wincing is a bad thing,” Tech said.

“No one asked for the backseat flier,” Crosshair bit out.

But he did his best to gentle his touch.

He found a tough knot near her bangs. This he paid attention to, and slowed down.

After his job with that seemed done he ran his hands through her soft hair to check for knots.

Batcher was resting her head in Omega’s lap, and giving her that big-eyed look that said she wanted treats.

“I’ll give you treats in a bit,” Omega promised.

“She just had breakfast,” Hunter said.

“Sorry, Batcher. No treats.”

Crosshair had seen braids before. He was trying to hold the picture in his mind, and figure out the different components that came together to make the braid. Maybe it was made from two sections?

He tried that, but her hair just ended up in a twist a gust of wind could undo.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” Wrecker said, now petting Batcher who had given up on Omega giving her treats.

“You don’t even have hair,” Crosshair argued.

Wrecker laughed. “Neither do you.”

Omega laughed, and some of Crosshair’s self-consciousness washed away. Any day he could hear Omega laugh was a good day, even if he was the butt of the joke.

“Point taken.”

“I suggest separating her hair into three sections,” Tech said.

They all stopped and glanced at him. It took a few seconds for him to notice.

“What?” he eventually said, eyes holding a rare bit of confusion.

“Are you saying you know how to braid hair?” Wrecker asked.

“Theoretically.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Hunter asked, leaning in towards him.

“Because Omega didn’t ask me to.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Crosshair can do it.” She sounded so confident in her decision.

“At least let Tech offer some help,” he said.

“Fine.”

So they all sat on the porch on a sunny, quiet morning on Pabu, Crosshair following Tech’s instructions to braid Omega’s hair.

The braid itself was messy and loose, but when Omega was shown herself in the refresher mirrors she seemed pleased. She hugged Crosshair tight, almost squeezing too hard with those archer’s arms of hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Somehow her words carried the weight of not just the braid, but what he meant to her, what this home they’d fought to have meant to her.

Crosshair gently ran a hand over her head and the messy braid that had been the cause of so much mischief.

“Always.”

[cruxymox]

the importance of water

having swallowed the sun

swiftly down it comes

bringing verdance

wistfulness

& sleep

[steddiemicrofic]

as a bonus birthday treat for @wynnyfryd, we have a bonus prompt!

bottom | 345 words

maybe they're at the bottom of a bottle, or they're performing fat bottomed girls at karaoke night, or one of them is bottoming for the first time. as always feel free to interpret the prompt however you like! stories must be 3rd pov steddie centric with a title, rating, and any relevant content warnings and must be 345 words exactly when pasted into wordcounter.net. because this is a special bonus prompt, it is only open for today, may 10th, until 11:59 pm EST.

i will comment a 🥧 emoji to let you know your fic has been verified and added to the queue, and then you can add your fic to the may ao3 collection

- mickala 💖

[artist-ellen]

Witchestober23 BONUS prompt: Handsome Wizard

He turned out a little bit like the sparkly anime-boy version of Draco 😅. Maybe I’ve been staring at too much Neuvillette content. Either way it was a fun way to mix things up a bit and play around with both the style and drawing a dude in general… it’s been a while. I need practice 🤣

P.S. Happy Halloween!!

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram.com/ellenartistic or tiktok: @ellenartistic

[thehazeldruid]

Bonus Prompt - Other Perspectives

For this week's bonus prompt we're going to take a look at our own perspective on things and the perspectives of others.

Think and look back on you pages, about how magic works in your perspective, about how different things work. Then look at other people's ideas, thoughts, and beliefs on the same subjects.

No two witches practice exactly the same, or have the same beliefs. And one way to grow in our own beliefs, is to challenge them. To discuss with others who don't believe the same things those differences. It helps to broaden our perspectives, our minds, and if done correctly, our hearts.

So take a look at different perspectives and beliefs on magic and witchcraft. Compare it to your own. And if you know someone who believes differently than you, perhaps take the time to discuss those differences. You could both learn something.

[2024-grimoire-challenge]

Bonus Prompt - Superstitions

You don't have to make a full page for this, though you most certainly can. At the very least, it would be a good idea to take notes or journal about this topic as a form of introspection and self understanding.

Define superstitions. What are they?

What are some of your personal superstitions? What are some of your family superstitions? Some your friends have? Who instilled them in you? What do they mean? How do they work? Look into the history of these superstitions and where they came from? What do they mean to you?

-Mod Hazel

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Light in the Darkness

@summer-of-bad-batch bonus prompt

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Crosshair, Omega (metioned) Set after S3 in the Beach Days & Hair Braiding timeline, when Crosshair has joined Echo to fight for the Resistance Word Count: ~810 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Crosshair considers his motivation.

Author's Note: If this reads like it starts in the middle of something, it's because it was cut from a different WIP because Crosshair started angsting in a direction that didn't fit the story. It did however lend itself to becoming the bonus prompt fill! Yes @indigofyrebird did it first but that's because who can deny that Omega is Crosshair's Light in the Darkness :)

Crosshair was used to missing his family. He'd had a lot of practice at it whilst the Empire had control of his brain, and after.

For the longest time, all Crosshair had known was a feeling of emptiness. It was as though when his chip had activated, it had carved out a hollow in his skull, and nothing in the years after was enough to fill it.

Having his own command as a CT-99, demanding the respect that had never been afforded to him voluntarily – that should have been satisfying. Even with the Empire’s insidious whispers in his mind, it should have brought him something. Some sense of accomplishment.

Except there had been nothing. And then, after capturing his brothers and failing to convince them to join the empire, that hollow feeling in his head had spread to his heart.

Maybe, until then, he had held out hope they would rejoin him.

Maybe watching them fly away whilst he remained, a piece of flotsam amongst the destruction of Kamino, had broken something in him irrevocably.

After that, everything had gone downhill. The bright spark that was Cody had threatened to patch the cracks in his psyche, but then Cody had gone AWOL – to this day, Rex and his crew of rebel clones were still trying to find out what happened to him.

Then there had been Mayday, and before he’d had time to process that, he had been incarcerated on Tantiss.

Experimented on.

Reconditioned.

Crosshair gulped, air too thin all of a sudden. He dropped his hand to his wrist, trembling fingers finding the wrap of coarse off-white fabric there, rubbing his hand over it whilst the tremor passed.

A low whine, and Batcher lumbered to her feet and gave an ungainly hop to settle into the bunk with him, huge head resting in his lap.

Crosshair linked his arms around Batcher’s neck, leaning into her and letting her take his sagging weight. He breathed raggedly, closing his eyes against the memories.

Tantiss, the place that broke him open until the hollowness flowed out and threatened to consume everyone around him too.

Except Omega.

Omega. That golden-haired child who had worn his brothers’ faces, who had come to his cell with Wrecker’s heart and Tech’s brains and Hunter’s stubbornness and Echo’s die-hard belief that clones never leave a brother behind.

Omega, the one who had stood against his despair and reached her hands inside the void that was his soul, determined to drag him back to himself.

Omega, who hadn’t stopped at rescuing him from Tantiss. Who hadn’t stopped until the rift between him and his brothers had begun to heal, bridged by the shining light of her faith.

The darkness still pulled at him. Because he was unworthy; hadn’t been worthy of his brothers’ love. Hadn’t been worth saving, not when his sacrifice meant they could save themselves.

He knew that wasn’t what had happened. Knew it logically, as though Tech had sat down and explained it to him. It didn’t stop the yawning maw of resentment opening up like a pit in his stomach, ready to drag him down into recriminations and regret.

Yet, even when she wasn’t there, Omega was a beacon he could set his course by. He could try and do better, for her. Try and be better. Try and mend things.

That was why he was here now. Fighting for the Resistance. Missing his family.

Because Omega was his light in the darkness. His fierce, precious, older little sister, who hadn’t given up on him when he had given up on himself.

The Empire was still growing in power, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t come for her again.

If he was here, fighting them, it gave her the chance to grow up safe on Pabu.

Safe with Phee, and Shep, and all the other residents of the island who had offered them shelter, even after the Empire had struck at their home just to reach her.

Safe with Wrecker, the strongest protector.

Safe with Hunter, whose devotion to her blurred the line between brotherly and paternal.

Slowly Crosshair opened his eyes, rubbing at Batcher’s scruff as the lurca hound gazed up at him patiently, a small whine escaping her.

“I’m okay, girl,” he whispered, managing a rough smile. “I’m okay.”

Because he was.

He was here, fighting in the Resistance with Rex and Emerie and Howzer and Echo and he could do it because he had the thought of his family to keep him going.

His family, who had poured their love into the broken parts of him until the hollowness didn’t feel so all-consuming.

Omega, who had loved him unconditionally since the first time she saw him, and still did.

With that to motivate him, he could keep fighting as long as was needed.

Whatever it took.

He would keep her safe.

[guardianbingo]

September Bonus Prompt

September is now upon and that means it's time for a new bonus prompt. Inspired by the Mid-Autumn Festival, September's Guardian Bingo bonus prompt is Moon.

As with all Guardian Bingo prompts, you are free to interpret this prompt however you wish. Follow your muse and have fun with it! Full details about bonus prompts are below the cut.

P.S. – Guardian Bingo signups for new and returning participants remain open throughout 2023. We’d love to have you join us!

What Is A Bonus Prompt?

An extra prompt issued at the beginning of each month, starting in February. You can fill it in addition to the prompts on your card or swap it out with a square that you don’t like or is giving you trouble.

How Much Time Do I Have To Complete The Bonus Prompt?

Through the end of the month in which it’s issued. February’s prompt has to be filled in February, March’s prompt in March, etc.

Additionally, January 2024 is reserved as a month for turning in bonus prompts you weren’t able to complete during the month they were assigned. What Time Zone Does The Fest Use For Bonus Prompt Cut Offs?

Since the fest’s participants are located in many different time zones, you’re free to submit your fill for the month so long as there is some place on Earth that hasn’t yet rolled over to the next month, even if your home time zone already has.

What Do I Get For Filling Bonus Prompts?

First and foremost, whatever work the prompt inspires you to create

A way to swap out a square on your card – just be sure to keep a record of the swap

The Merit Brush badge (if you fill 5 bonus prompts)

Do I Have To Complete The Bonus Prompt?

Of course not. They’re 100% optional.

Apart From Having To Complete The Bonus Prompt Within The Month It Was Issued, Are There Any Other Changes To The Rules Regarding Fills?

Nope!  Just like with your card, creations of any length and format are allowed provided that they’re not reused or plagiarized. You are also allowed the same freedom and flexibility in interpreting the bonus prompt as the squares on your card.

Can I See A List Of Previous Prompts?

Sure!

2023 Bonus Prompt List

February: Meet Cute

March: Take A Leap

April: Ancestors

May: Acceptance

June: Twins

July: Animal Transformations

August: Constellation

September: Moon

2022 Bonus Prompt List

February: Tiger

March: Women and Gender Non-Conforming Characters

April: Birthday

May: Time Travel

June: Dragon

July: Meeting Again

August: Star-Crossed Lovers

September: Trying Something New

October: Supernatural Elements

November: Short and Sweet

December: Keep On Going

Who Chooses The Bonus Prompts Each Month?

The ever-amazing and very appreciated @sasamelons!

I’ve Read Through All Of This But Still Have A Question.

We’d love to answer it. Please email the mods at guardianbingofest@gmail.com

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch Bonus Prompt!

Light in Darkness

Omega and Crosshair have both been in dark places. But they can both be each other's light. A black doesn't exist without it's ring of light