#tech bonus

[purplepixel]

I did the meme. The world is not ready for them

[gamelpar]

all the omega hugs so far

now we just need a crosshair hug and a tech hug which will happen bc they wouldn't dare leave us hanging like this

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Okay, okay, okay, hear me out.

Au where Dannys family is a legit crime family/family of evil mad scientists. Like, full career criminals. Instead of hazmat suits they're decked out in high tech armor and masks and have codenames. They move around pretty often to throw the police off thier trail.

The lab accident that makes Phantom still happens despite his parents not being obsessed with ghosts/being only partially obsessed. They were trying to build a portal to the ghost zone as a way to expand their list of potential targets/a way to escape if the cops get too close to catching them/ expand thier criminal empire if you're going for a more hard-core fic (like a mafia au or something idk)

Phantom is a superhero who follows them from city to city and stops the families more serious crimes where people actually get hurt. Danny of course never tells them that he- thier brilliant evil mastermind son- moonlights as a superhero

One day Danny, in the middle of a heist with his family, is startled by the appearance of a thin glowing red string on his finger. Fascinated, Danny pesters his parents for weeks until he eventually states "I'm going no matter what you do or say, so you can either help me or get out of my way".

They reluctantly agree to let him 'Go on a journey' to find his possible soulmate/whoever is on the other end of the line and give him all sorts of gear and give him a teary goodbye

Meanwhile, the teen hero in the dc universe that literally got wacked with an unknown magical object is upset that they've been benched from active duty until the string disappears as its a threat to thier secret identity.

Then this other kid shows up and just...hangs out with them? And the string leads to them?? How did you get in here my dude???

[pinksilvace]

@ all of the fic writers that give Hypnos injured/broken wings: I am kissing you passionately on the mouth

[pandorademos]

Light in the darkness.

Bonus prompt for @summer-of-bad-batch. I lost a bit of momentum with work stuff cropping up, but I'm back in business baby 😎. And what better way to get back into the swing of it then with some s'mores.

[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.

[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

[xxlegitcookiezxx]

He needs a pair of those touchscreen gloves

[paramornal]

a little stsg comic i cooked up after class today:) ft. first years geto n gojo

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

A man can dream but he'd be wiser not to

[starqueensthings]

every time this mf’s neck pops out from under his helmet, I lose more of my connection to reality

[st4rstudent]

Hey guys just another drawing of the thr- wait what happened to them.

(bonuses + notes under cut)

i've actually been sitting on these designs since september - october/november. The color are... subjective to change. I chose Mac and Winn's colors today. I think Winn's is fine but Mac's keeps throwing me off. Here's the first drawings I did for Mac and Winn.

I like to imagine they're in their own little department. Something to do with tech like an IT department (also to kind of play off of how they're not in the game but run a lot of important events outside of it). So they're not any cog type in specific (like boss, board, law, etc..etc).

Mac's a Macintosh 128k and Winn is just a computer mouse (the tail is supposed to be a little mouse pointer and those are wires in the back. Technically speaking, wires for mice are in the front by the scroll but we can get inaccurate here). Mac's screen can change colors and display options. Together they make the Matrix Team

Here's some Brian's that I did during class last semester. He was originally a mouse, but I found trying to design him was much more annoying than I thought. Then one day during class I had a beam of light hit into my head and made him a big. He's not specific or anything, I tried to do just a stereotypical bug (like how all dogs/cats in game are the same type). He has a triangular head to match his faceplate though :-] you could maybe imagine an ant if you'd like. I figure ants work like cogs in a machine.

The desk jockeys are there too! I haven't really drawn them, but they remain somewhat the same. Instead of being made by toons to look like cogs, they're now made by cogs to look like toons. They also can't teleport so it takes Brian 3x longer to get places, but do they act as multitoons kind of.

This is the only drawing I really have to show my design basis. And YES they are still taller than him because its funny. Ok I think that's all

[sarakiz]

Tara Prasad (IND) - Padmaavat Soundtrack by Sanjay Leela Bhansali & Sanchit Balhara, arr. Hasit Nanda

2023 4CC, Colorado Springs - Women's Free Skate

[echos-gal]

y'all know that if they don't bring back Tech by episode 15 (premiering on may 1st) and the series concludes with him "dead", i WILL be fully expecting a surprise bonus episode 16 epilogue releasing on may 4th showing him alive and how he survived and reuniting with his family and Phee. i am fully willing to don the clown face paint for this.

name a better may the fourth surprise. you can't.

[kybercrystals94]

CONGRATS ON 333 FOLLOWERS!! 🧡 Can I have something Tech-centric? Perhaps you can double it with a whumptober prompt because I was going to ask for something along those lines. Maybe try one of the alt. prompts… friendly fire? Survivors guilt? Dunno, but I know it will be awesome whatever it is :D

Thank you so much! 🥰

For you, a 333 word, Tech-Centric fic with the Whumptober Alt. Prompt “Survivor’s Guilt”…

[Slots still open for requests to celebrate 333 followers!! 🥳]

Gimmick

Read here on Ao3!

(Rated: T just to be safe)

Clone Force 99 did not work alongside regs often. It was better that way, for everyone involved really. While Hunter and Tech maintained a certain level of civility, Wrecker and Crosshair were less inclined to even try. They were entertained to see how far they could push before achieving a reaction. Which is frustrating to Tech, given that, even behaving himself, he inadvertently irks regs in his proximity.

Hunter gently tried to speculate that Tech’s predisposition to verbalize his mental processing was not well received.

Crosshair eloquently translated, “You’re kriffing annoying sometimes.”

This particular mission, Tech is delegated to work alongside another engineer. The reg is friendly enough, even going so far as to introduce himself by his chosen name.

“Name’s Gimmick,” he says, putting out a hand.

Not typically one to shake hands, it feels incredibly rude to refuse, so Tech clasps his hand briefly. “Tech.”

Gimmick nods. “Tech. I like it.”

“Your name means trick or ruse.”

Gimmick winks and thumps Tech on the shoulder, in a very Wrecker-like way. “It can also mean a tool or gadget.”

The two are hacking a mainframe at a Separatist outpost. The droids have been neutralized by the other members of the infiltrating unit. Tech explains his process as he works, and, to his gratification, Gimmick contributes his own insights conversationally.

Tech is mid-sentence when Gimmick moves, shoving Tech away from the control panel. Simultaneously a blaster shot sounds. Reacting intrinsically, Tech pulls his weapon and shoots the droid through the neck.

Tech turns to Gimmick. The clone isn’t moving, the hole in his backplate lethally located. Tech confirms the death, several times more than necessary. He calls it in.

Afterwards, he asks Hunter to cover the flight to their next post.

“Sure, Tech,” Hunter says.

Tech stays in the quiet cockpit, dark data pad in hand, not withdrawing to where Wrecker and Crosshair argue in the hold. Breaking the silence, Tech asks, “Why him, Hunter?”

But like Tech, Hunter doesn’t have an answer.

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @dreamsight73 @royallykt @merkitty49 @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump