✨Barred Owl ✨

I wish my hair was wavy like that 😞

You know what we should have seen in The Bad Batch?

Hunter dealing with what humidity does to his hair while living on Pabu.

hi. i made a clone oc :3 i’ll post more of him, his men, and his generals soon 🫶

“Meanwhile, on Pabu”

Wrecker thinks he can just water their garden in peace. WELL HE CAN’T

Look at the little lizard boy! 😍

Them in another universe

Protect the children!

Some weeks are just harder than others, man…

That detail though

Photo study, this time with Hunter.

Crosshair

Tech

Grayscale under the cut.

—

Underling: Standing Watch

Word count: ~1,200

Blithe has been out of communication with Commander Echo for nearly a standard galactic year.

Read the back story on this post by @imperial-strategist

Blithe stood sentry duty on the fourth moon of the third planet from the center of nowhere.

She adjusted the breather on her face, trying yet again to fit it snugly enough to keep out the sulfurous stench of the surrounding swamp. The breather had been designed for a near-human species, so it almost—but didn't quite—fit.  No matter how much she fiddled with it, it was going to leak. She knew this from experience, but the impulse to try to block out the nauseating smell was like an itch you can't resist scratching. Still, breathing the fumes wouldn't kill her, so an ill-fitting breather was better than nothing.

As she scanned the trees for anything out of place, Blithe ran through some simple practice motions with her electrostaff, working the stiffness out of the old injury to her right arm. They were alone on this mud ball, other than the local non-sentient life forms, the most common of which was the tooka-sized amphibians that hooted in the trees from dawn to dusk. So, security was light. Just one sentry at a time by day, and two by night when the larger of the planet's carnivorous fauna were out and about. Standing watch was more about deterring the wildlife from wandering into the cave system that hid their base than fear of detection. This planet was so far off the beaten path, it took a standard day at sublight to reach the nearest hyperspace lane. And the mineral makeup of the caves blocked all traces of what took place within from scanners, should anyone actually think to look here.

Why they were here, rather than closer to, well, anything at all was above Blithe's pay grade. Story of an underling's life, she thought.

A scurrying sound to her left snapped Blithe’s attention into focus. She cocked her head, her brows furrowing as she strained to focus past the ambient swamp noises. The source of the disturbance was behind an oversized cargo container a dozen paces away. Too big to fit through the cave entrance, it had been left under the canopy of an especially gnarly, vine-draped tree. You could fit a half dozen stormtroopers inside that crate with enough room left over for a small dewback, if you had a mind to. So it could easily hide any of this world's predators. If this had been a night watch, Blithe would have called for reinforcements before investigating further. But it would be some time yet before the scary things woke up.

The scurrying changed to a rhythmic scraping, giving Blithe the clue she needed to identify the visitor. She crept toward the crate, hefting her staff in both hands. It sparked fitfully when she switched it on, taking longer than it should to light with the blue glow that showed it was working. Blithe had bodged it together from spare parts, and it was anything but reliable. But she was much more skilled with a staff than the blaster on her hip. And, besides, if she was right about what her target was, the blaster would make a disgusting and dangerous mess.

"Come on. Come on. Stay with me,” Blithe whispered encouragement to the weapon. Then, pausing for only a moment to check for signs she had been detected, she stepped quickly around the crate, electrostaff at the ready.

The source of the noise wasn't on the ground, where Blithe expected it to be. It had climbed halfway up the crate, stuck to it by its many sucker feet, a pair of which sprouted from each of its gelatinous body segments. Alerted to her presence now, it swung its carapaced, eyeless head toward her. Caustic saliva dripped from its mouth-parts as it loomed above Blithe, the drops narrowly missing her arm. The beast was a good two meters long and as thick as Blithe's thigh, with hooked, orange mandibles as long as a human hand. It chittered menacingly in her general direction before returning to munching on the crate's welded seams. 

"Oh, no you don't,” Blithe waved one of the staff’s electrified ends at it, trying to distract it from its meal without actually touching it. “Get the fierfek down from there!”  These creatures - they called them “raspers” for lack of an official name - could wear away solid durasteel remarkably quickly. But they also dropped off bits of themselves that melted into a noxious goo when injured. That was no fun to clean up.

"No, no, no, no,” she dodged as it waved its head toward her again, "Go that way. Don't make me hurt you, kark it.” She blocked its path, repeatedly, herding it toward the ground, all the while cursing and cajoling. While it could clearly sense the humming energy of the staff, Blithe didn't know if these critters could actually hear. Regardless, a bit of cussing was good for her morale. 

As it scrambled back up the metal wall of the crate, the creature's movement became increasingly erratic and Blithe imagined the rasper was getting as frustrated as she was with their game. With an abrupt lurch, it reared a third of it's body away from the crate and nailed the staff's glowing end with a glob of acid spit that sizzled on impact. Energy arced wildly from the power nodes as they failed, shorting the whole staff out.

"That's karked it!” Blithe shouted at the rasper, which tried again to ascend the crate now that the electric foe no longer threatened it, only to be blocked as Blithe clocked it on its armored head with the dead electrostaff. "E chu ta! I just got this fixed.” Blithe smacked it again, pulling each strike just enough to avoid actually injuring it. She really didn't want to be this close if it dropped one of its segments.

"Now,” she deflected a lunge from the rasper and shook it free as it tried to latch on to the weaving staff with its mandibles. "Move, you kriffing blob of bantha snot, with your too karking many legs!” 

Blithe swung the staff behind the beast as it curled back on itself, preparing to strike at her. Then, with a heave, she swept the weapon up and away from the crate with all of her strength, launching the rasper off the durasteel surface, toward the base of the cliff. A jolt of pain shot up her bad arm with the effort required to dislodge the creature, but Blithe felt a victorious rush as the suckers lost their purchase with a dozen wet pops.

The hindmost of the rasper's segments broke free with a squelch as it hit, splattering slime harmlessly on the rocks. Defeated, the creature skittered up the sheer cliff face, acidic brown goo dripping behind it.

"Ugh! So. Many. Legs.“ Blithe panted as she watched the rasper retreat to be certain it was actually leaving. 

A rapid, sharp clapping behind her made Blithe spin around, staff raised for another fight. Two armed rebels - a human man and a twi'lek female - stood between her and the cave's entrance, applauding her performance.

Biting off a final curse, Blithe stared them down and said through gritted teeth, “Couldn't be bothered to lend a hand?”

The twi'lek rebel gave Blithe’s back a companionable slap as Blithe stalked past her, inert staff over one shoulder. 

Her watch was over and her relief had arrived. 

Shit like this never happened back on Coruscant, she thought sourly, adjusting the breather mask again, pointlessly. Well, ok, it sometimes did, she allowed. But at least there, she knew Commander Echo had her back.

Big brother Tech!

Detail Work

Read here on Ao3!

Author’s Note: This elderly story is the second Bad Batch fanfic I ever wrote that I only posted on Archive of Our Own and never on Tumblr (except as a link). I’ve decided I wanna cross-post my older works 🫶 More older (read rougher) fics to come 😅

Rated: G | Words: 1204 | Summary: Omega asks for Tech’s help.

Omega sat with her arms folded on the table, her head pillowed on them comfortably, watching Tech work in companionable silence. The others had gone on a supply run earlier that morning, and Tech was using the quiet as an opportunity to delve into some of his lesser important projects. Currently, this consisted of rewiring the comm in his helmet to allow him the ability to switch between frequencies more smoothly. While GAR regulations had not deeply affected his willingness to alter equipment, it had put a damper on it – especially when Echo joined the batch. He never thought Echo would necessarily “tattle” on him, but there had always been a wary glint in Echo’s eye that made Tech keep his more daring improvements secret from the ARC Trooper.

He had no such qualms now.

“You’re really good at twisting the wires around like that,” Omega said suddenly.

Tech acknowledged her with a hum.

“You’re good at detail work, aren’t you?” Omega asked, although it was not really a question.

“I like to think so,” Tech agreed, not looking up from his work.

“Better than anyone else I’ve ever seen,” Omega continued.

Tech finally spared a glance in Omega’s direction, eyes narrowed. He had a feeling that this line of conversation was going in the direction of – as Wrecker called it – attempting to “butter him up” with the intent of getting something she wanted. After a pause, he said, “Thank you, Omega. I appreciate your confidence in my work.”

Omega didn’t lift her head from her arms but smiled at him shyly.

“My hair is getting pretty long,” Omega said, changing the subject abruptly.

“Hmm, yes,” Tech agreed, tossing another glance in her direction. “I suppose we should consider cutting it soon to be a more manageable length.”

To his surprise, Omega bristled, sitting up straight. “I can manage it this long,” she said coldly. “I’m not complaining about it. Besides, Hunter’s hair is even longer than mine and he manages just fine.”

Confused by Omega’s suddenly heated tone, Tech wondered if he had missed something, replaying the brief conversation in his head to find his mistake. Perhaps he had misunderstood her comment about the length of her hair? He should have responded positively rather than try to correct a perceived problem. Ah.

“I apologize, I did not mean to imply that you could not manage the current length of your hair,” he intoned awkwardly.

Omega’s furrowed face smoothed out, and she smiled again, shrugging off the accidental slight. Tech relaxed, appreciative that he had managed to avoid a crisis of emotions without his more emotionally intelligent brothers present.

“That’s alright,” Omega said brightly.

“I believe,” Tech said carefully, “that you were making a point...about your hair?”

“Yes,” Omega agreed readily, “I think that it is finally long enough to braid!”

Tech considered her hair length with his analytical mind. “I believe you are correct,” he said.

“So,” Omega said, seemingly encouraged by his words, “I was wondering – since you are good with detail work – if you could do it? Braid my hair?”

And there it was. The entire point of the conversation, which had, in reality, never diverted from its original course. Tech had to give the girl credit for catching him completely off guard, especially in the fact that he was struggling with denying her simple and trusting request.

Her eyes stared straight into his, sparkling with hope and determination.

“Ah, yes, well,” Tech stammered, his project now completely forgotten in his hands. “Well,” he tried again, “I am afraid I don’t know how to braid hair.”

“That’s okay,” Omega said smoothly, as if she’d expected as much. She held up a datapad she’d had in her lap. “I found instructions. They are very comprehensive." The last word was stilted, as though she were ensuring she said it correctly.

She really had thought of everything.

Tech gave her a wry smile. “How long have you been planning on enlisting me to braid your hair, Miss Omega?”

Omega grinned, averting her gaze to the pad in her hands. “Maybe since I found out the others were going to be gone on a supply run a few days ago?”

He appreciated that she had planned it around their brothers not being present. While he was certain they would not be unkind about Tech braiding Omega’s hair, he imagined that they would feel obliged to lightheartedly rib him a bit on the subject...as brothers do.

“I suppose I had better start reading these instructions then,” Tech said, taking the datapad from her.

***

The smile that lit up Omega’s face made his heart warm with sentimental emotion. No wonder his brothers were so easy to persuade into her whimsical schemes – her happiness was most contagious and addicting.

After some trial and error, Tech was finally able to sit back and admire his work. While Omega had been correct in assessing that Tech was proficient in what she called “detailed work”, hair was a much more delicate medium than he was accustomed to. Hair seemed to have a mind of its own, going every which way while his fingers clumsily tried to reign it in. Granted, his attempts were undoubtedly better than what any of his brothers might have managed given the same task.

“I believe I have finally finished,” Tech said, giving one of her braids a gentle and playful tug.

They were very short at the ends, but since he had started the braids at her hairline, it made the braids look ornate although the tails barely went past the nape of her neck.

“Oh!” Omega breathed, reaching up, her hands carefully touching her hair, feeling the plaits with her fingers, and tracing them down to the ends. “I’m going to look in the mirror!” She jumped up and ran to the ‘fresher, Tech trailing behind her.

She stood on tip toe to peer into the reflective metal plate attached above the sink. It was hardly reflective anymore, dented and scraped to the point that Omega’s reflection was disfigured and dull. She didn’t voice her disappointment over not being able to see Tech’s hard work, but her shoulders sagged a bit at the realization.

Tech quickly came up with a solution. “What if I take a holopic?” he asked. “Then perhaps you might see it in more detail.”

Omega could barely stand still long enough for him to take a clear pic before she was scrambling to take the datapad out of his hands and examine it. “Wow,” she gasped, her voice soft, “they look even better than I imagined! Thank you so much, Tech!”

“You are most welcome,” Tech responded with a smile, and before he could catch himself or think better of it, he added, “And should you need help again in the future, I would be happy to assist.”

Omega put the datapad down on the table and threw her arms around Tech’s waist, hugging him tight. “I’m so happy that I have a brother like you,” she said, squeezing impossibly tighter.

Tech chuckled and patted the top of her head, careful not to disturb the woven tresses. “And I am most grateful to have a sister like you.”

END

Kix in THE CLONE WARS ▸ S2 // S7

Eeeeeeeehh! This is fantastic!

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.*