The Bad Batch Fanart - Blog Posts

tech as chamber from valorant doodle :]

little sketches of fairy omega and bounty hunters

embo is my favorite bounty hunter i NEEEED a black series figure of him so bad

holy shit its that guy with the slutty waist

i think theyd live happily ever after actually

very quick hunter sketch with his lil lean

shhh shes shnoozin

shading practice with hunter :D

i think i would fold if he looked at me like that

wrecker finally got his ice cream btw

i dont like the coloring in this one but oh well </3

warmup sketch with hunter bad batch yippee !!

theres this look that tech only gives wrecker and i think i love him for that

wowowow its tech badbatch

idk why i havent drawn tech yet bc hes my fav but its fine to be late surely :] im a curly truther

a duo we DESERVE MORE OF !!!!

anyone ask for crosshair with wings?

he's missing his right hand in the bottom right corner because I wanted to be canon accurate. no other reason....

(close-ups under the cut)

handsome bald man

This is the peak of Crosshair's behavior imo. Making his problem everyone else's problem. Atlantis x tbb: 1 2 3

@techwrecker @lonewolflupe @ithillia @mythical-illustrator @profettshonalfettfettishist

-Wrecker, I know how to swim! -But you don't have a hand, you need to practice!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Week 8 / Main Prompt: Swimming Lessons Everybody gets the meme, right? :3 (I know SOBB doesn't do reblogs anymore, so I tagged you. I think you're gonna like it. @kybercrystals94)

Commission for @niobiumao3

And I’m his knight in sh armor

Between Hearts and Ruin Pt. 1 "Breaking the Silence"

Summary: Tech and Leena’s marriage is strained, with mounting tensions that leave Tech feeling exhausted from carrying the weight of trying to fix their issues. Despite his efforts, he’s reached a breaking point, unsure of how much longer he can continue. The same night Tech starts to find some peace with his uncertain decision about their future, he meets someone new, stirring unexpected feelings. Meanwhile, Leena, who isn’t ready to let go, finds solace in the company of someone she knows only vaguely. Both are left questioning the path forward, caught between their unresolved past and the pull of new, uncharted connections.

Word Count: 9k

Pairing(s): Tech / OC Leena ; Echo x OC Aiko ; Crosshair x OC Kayden

Warnings: Mentions of splitting up, so much Angst in this bad boy, brief mentions of losing Fives, did I mention Angst? marital arguments

Author's Note: Hi friends! This is a 3 part story crossover between myself and @leenathegreengirl! All characters are part of her Pabu AU. All other chapters will be posted at the same time and linked below. Please check out her page to learn more about the AU if you are new, and if you have stuck around for a while... buckle up because it's going to get intense... You can find a link HERE on her account to a book version of the full story!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The counter felt unnervingly sticky under his fingers, its residue clinging to his skin with every movement. His clothes—far too tight and constricting—made every breath a little more labored, a constant reminder of how out of place he felt in this moment. The music, an incessant hum in the background, seemed to dull his senses, blurring everything around him. Even the taste of spotcha, which he had once tolerated, now tasted like bitter regret on his tongue. Tech’s thoughts spiraled as he longed to leave, to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere, and part of him felt apathetic to anyone’s disappointment—he just wanted to be anywhere but here. But Omega had begged him to join, her pleading eyes too much for him to resist. So, he stayed.

The quiet thud of Echo’s cup meeting the wooden table snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, and Tech followed suit, setting down his own shot glass with a deliberate, almost mechanical motion. It was a small, mundane action—but in that moment, it felt significant. The weight of unspoken words coming alive as the sigh left his lips and his eyes turned downcast once more. 

He despised being the cause of their worry. Tech would have preferred enduring another of Chori’s harsh verbal reprimands than to face the silent weight of their concerned or disappointed gazes. He had grown accustomed to those looks over time, but they never lost their sting. The mixture of confusion over his actions and the pity that seemed to drip from their eyes made his stomach twist. He hated it. No one should pity him—not for his failure to see the warning signs long before things spiraled out of control.

He had made a mistake. A critical misjudgment, one that he couldn't shake from his mind. Admitting that, out loud, felt like swallowing glass. The weight of it, the knowledge that he had lost his usual steadiness, gnawed at him relentlessly. Every time he spoke the words aloud, it was like peeling back a fresh layer of shame, the guilt never fading, only deepening.

Tech had spent countless hours over the past few months retracing his steps, attempting to unravel where everything had gone wrong. At first, he had convinced himself that the root of the problem lay in his failure to recognize the significant differences between himself and Leena. He had told himself it was an understandable oversight—one that, in hindsight, could be chalked up to a simple error in judgment. But as he sifted through his older records, documents, and notes from the time of their crash landing on the planet she called home, a harsh truth began to emerge. Even then, when he first met Leena, he had been acutely aware of the chasm that separated them, of the vast divide in how they viewed the world, approached problems, and saw their futures.

What he hadn’t fully grasped, though, was the true depth of that disparity—the way those differences could unravel the very fabric of a relationship. He had underestimated how much those discrepancies could sow instability, the kind that would slowly erode any foundation they tried to build. And that realization struck him like a gut punch: it wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the differences, but that he had been blind to their consequences.

Being so vastly different from your partner wasn’t necessarily an impossible challenge to overcome, provided both people were willing to make compromises. Tech, ever the problem-solver, understood this concept early on. However, he quickly realized that in their relationship, he was often the one making those compromises. And as time passed, it became clear that the differences in their emotional needs were the root cause of the issues that began to surface.

Tech valued mental stimulation above all else—he thrived in the presence of a partner who could engage his mind, someone who challenged his thoughts and kept him questioning, growing, and expanding his understanding of the world. For him, problem-solving was more than just a skill; it was how he expressed affection, how he showed care and dedication. He also valued quiet moments of companionship—those peaceful, unspoken times that allowed him to connect with someone on a deeper level without needing words or physical touch.

Leena, however, had a very different approach to intimacy. She was a constant, tactile presence, her need for physical connection apparent in every gesture. She craved the touch of others, and while at first it had seemed endearing, it gradually became something more stifling to him. The frequent, insistent grasps on his arms, the constant kisses in public, the overwhelming need for physical closeness—what had initially been affection in her eyes slowly became a suffocating force in his. It was as if her touch was a demand, one that gradually pushed him further and further out of his comfort zone, until what had once been a loving gesture began to feel more like a constraint. This mismatch in needs—his desire for mental engagement and quiet, her hunger for constant physical closeness—formed the crux of their early problems, the friction that would only grow more difficult to ignore with time.

As the more significant differences in their needs began to settle in, Tech found his own feelings increasingly neglected. He had been the one constantly compromising, trying to accommodate her desires while putting his own on the back burner. As that pattern continued, even the smallest issues seemed to evolve into major points of contention. Things that once might have been overlooked or shrugged off now became flashpoints, chipping away at the connection between them and deepening the gap that had begun to widen.

Tech’s understanding of time was unwavering and meticulous. He had a rigorous, almost intrinsic sense of schedules and the value of time. To him, if you made plans, you were obligated to respect the structure and timelines you set. There was an unspoken expectation that punctuality wasn’t just a courtesy—it was a reflection of respect, not only for the time you’d agreed upon but also for the people you were meeting. In Tech’s mind, the system was simple: schedules existed to be followed.

But Leena was the antithesis of that structure. Her free-flowing, almost carefree nature didn’t see time as something to be rigidly adhered to. She would often show up late, dismissing punctuality with a casualness that baffled and frustrated him. What seemed like a small, harmless disregard for the clock grew more maddening with each passing day. Her tendency to break free from schedules, to let time bend and stretch to her whims, was something he struggled to accept. To him, it felt disrespectful—not just to him, but to everyone involved in their plans.

Her tardiness, once a mere annoyance, began to feel like a constant breach of trust, a sign that her priorities were out of sync with his. The lack of consideration for time—something that Tech valued deeply—felt like an affront to his need for order and predictability. It wasn’t just the lateness; it was the underlying message that her world didn’t revolve around the same sense of respect for time that he held so dear.

In addition to the mounting frustrations, Tech came to a quiet, unexpected realization about himself—one he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. Tech had always been a confident man, comfortable with who he was and well aware of both his strengths and weaknesses. He didn’t dwell much on the opinions of others, nor did he feel the need to constantly prove his worth. But even he, despite his composed exterior, was still human. There were moments when he found himself uncertain about how to explain why certain things bothered him—why something as seemingly small as a comment could gnaw at him for longer than he cared to admit.

One such issue had been his hairline, which had started to recede earlier than most. It wasn’t something he dwelled on, but Leena’s frequent remarks about it made him more self-conscious than he ever thought he could be. She had been persistent, especially in the early days, pointing out how the bold hairstyle he’d chosen after the removal of his inhibitor chip suited him, almost as though it was a way to cover up his “imperfection.” At the time, he’d brushed it off, believing her reassurances, seeing the change as something simple and even freeing. Yet, as time passed, her comments—meant to be affectionate—began to sting.

The more she gently acknowledged that his bold look “worked to hide” his receding hairline, the more it hurt. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the implication that his physical appearance was something to be covered up, something that needed fixing. It was a vulnerability he hadn’t fully been aware of until now. What had once seemed like a harmless observation became a constant reminder of his insecurities, of a defect he had never been overly concerned with before but now found difficult to ignore.

There were times when he yearned for the simplicity of those earlier days when he hadn’t cared about the slight recession of his hairline. He missed the confidence he had once carried without a second thought. He longed for a time when he hadn’t had to question whether or not he should let his hair grow back, or whether it would be met with more gentle nudges to change it. He wished, more than anything, that his partner would stop pointing it out—would simply accept him as he was, imperfections and all.

Then, the final blow—the proverbial nail in the coffin—came in the form of their profound misalignment in the bedroom. Tech, despite his lack of romantic companionship before meeting Leena, had always found it difficult to settle into a repetitive routine, especially in matters of intimacy. Early on, he had sensed that their needs and desires in that area weren’t quite in sync. While he didn’t have the same physical demands as others, he still harbored a deep need for connection in that space, one that extended beyond simple, predictable interactions.

Tech wasn’t a man who could easily be satisfied with repetition; his mind, ever curious and open, yearned for new experiences, new ways to engage. He longed for variety, for exploration, for the kind of intimacy that pushed boundaries, that was full of discovery. Yet Leena, in contrast, was more traditional in her approach. She was drawn to a simpler, more romantic atmosphere, preferring the comfort of routine and the quiet familiarity of a steady, uncomplicated connection. For her, intimacy was something sacred, a space to nurture feelings of closeness and affection through consistency and tenderness.

It didn’t take long for Tech to realize that their differing expectations in this area might be a larger obstacle than he’d initially thought. While he had no shortage of emotional depth, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the lack of variety in their intimacy was starting to erode something fundamental between them. His growing desire to try new things, to experiment, to explore uncharted territory, felt increasingly distant from her preference for simple, romantic gestures that often left him feeling unfulfilled.

As these differences grew more pronounced, Tech found himself grappling with a sense of frustration he couldn’t easily express. It wasn’t just about physical needs—it was about a deeper longing for something more dynamic, more exciting, something that matched the way his mind constantly sought novelty and challenge. The mismatch in their desires in the bedroom began to feel like the final layer of the disconnect between them, the one thing neither of them could seem to bridge.

“Tech.” The sound of his name was gentle but laced with concern, followed by the familiar weight of a hand resting on his shoulder. Echo was trying once again to pull his attention, a subtle but firm reminder that he hadn’t escaped the questioning for long.

Tech sighed quietly, his eyes lifting reluctantly to meet Echo’s gaze. He already knew what was coming—the inevitable barrage of questions. It was the same pattern that had unfolded with each of his brothers, each one taking their turn to pry into the situation, all demanding an explanation for something that had felt like it came out of nowhere. The tension had built up over time, and now it was spilling over, each of them seeking clarity.

Hunter had been the first to confront him, though in his own way, seeing Tech’s actions as a disruption to their team’s harmony. Wrecker, in his typically straightforward manner, only seemed concerned with the surface-level issues—the impact of Tech’s personal decisions on their already fragile family dynamic. And then there was Crosshair, who had a different sort of frustration, one tied to his own personal stakes. His concern seemed more self-centered, worried about how Tech’s split might affect his own impending nuptials, rather than any deeper emotional fallout.

Echo, however, had held back, waiting, observing. He hadn’t yet launched into the interrogation like the others. For now, he was the last remaining one, the only brother who hadn’t yet pressed for an explanation, and Tech knew his patience was running thin.

Tech couldn’t help but wonder why Echo had held back, why he was the only one who hadn’t bombarded him with questions. There had to be a reason, and Tech couldn’t shake the thought that perhaps Echo had already consulted Mae—one of the few people who had known about his plans to separate before they had fully unfolded. Mae’s quiet understanding of the situation had always been evident. She had listened when he had spoken of his concerns, her response simple and devoid of pressure. She hadn’t pushed him to keep fighting for something that no longer felt right; instead, she had accepted his feelings, honoring his exhaustion and the mental toll of trying for so long. Mae’s gentle acceptance, without judgment or insistence, had given him space to breathe and think, something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was offered.

Given how close Echo’s wife was to Mae, Tech couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Echo, in his own way, had approached her about the matter as well. Perhaps Mae had provided him with the same understanding, which in turn had kept Echo from pressing him further. After all, Echo had always been the quiet observer, never one to jump to conclusions. If Mae had supported him, then Echo might have felt no need to pry, knowing the weight of Tech’s decision without needing every detail laid bare.

But there was another possibility, one that lingered in the back of Tech’s mind. Echo had been married longer than most of them. Maybe he understood better than anyone the complexities and quiet struggles that came with a long-term partnership. Marriage was never as simple as it seemed, and Tech had to wonder if Echo was quietly acknowledging that fact within his own relationship. Perhaps Echo was beginning to face his own challenges in that area, and out of respect—both for his own experience and for Tech’s—he had decided to withhold his judgment. After all, some things couldn’t be fixed with just a conversation or a solution; sometimes, the complexities of a relationship were too tangled to dissect in a single breath.

“If you’re going to ask, go ahead,” Tech said with a dry scoff, frustration bubbling up despite his best efforts to keep it contained. “Though I doubt any explanation I give is going to make me look better.” His words were sharp, edged with a mix of self-doubt and anger. It was hard to find any way to frame his actions that would cast him in a sympathetic light. The truth of it all felt like a weight he couldn’t escape, one that only seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

He had broken Leena’s heart—there was no way around that fact. The quiet, painful way he’d slipped away from her on an ordinary evening, had left scars deeper than he cared to admit. And the timing? It couldn’t have been worse. The same night he walked away from her, Crosshair had proposed to Leena’s twin. It was supposed to be a moment of joy, a turning point in their lives, yet his abrupt departure tainted it all. His actions hadn’t just hurt Leena, they had disrupted something beautiful, something that had been meant to be celebrated. The weight of that, the realization that his own choices had overshadowed someone else’s happiness, made the guilt gnaw at him in ways he couldn’t explain.

“I wasn’t going to ask about that,” Echo started, his voice steady but carrying a note of concern. “I was going to ask how you’re holding up. It’s a big change, Tech…”

Before Echo could finish, Tech cut him off, his words spilling out in a practiced, rehearsed tone. He had said them a thousand times to himself, hoping to convince anyone who would listen—and maybe even himself—that everything was fine.

“Change is a fundamental part of life,” Tech interrupted, his voice flat. “Unworthy of dwelling upon.”

But Echo wasn’t buying it. He didn’t let the words hang in the air. “Would you cut the crap and just speak to me? Honestly.”

Tech flinched, the sharpness of Echo’s voice catching him off guard. He hadn’t meant to snap, but the interruption was instinctive, defensive. His eyes briefly dropped, a wave of sullen guilt washing over him as he realized the frustration behind Echo’s outburst. Echo didn’t deserve to be met with the walls Tech had built, walls that had become so automatic, so deeply ingrained, that he didn’t even notice when they were up.

For a moment, Tech said nothing. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He had been avoiding this very conversation, but now it was impossible to ignore. He had alienated those closest to him, built walls around his own emotions, and Echo, of all people, wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

Tech’s shoulders slumped, and his voice softened, losing some of the rigid professionalism he often hid behind. “I’m not sure how to... process this, Echo,” he admitted quietly, the words feeling heavier than he expected. “Everything feels... disjointed. Like I’m going through the motions, but none of it feels real anymore.”

Echo paused, his gaze lingering on the figure before him, as if his mind had drifted far beyond the moment. After a beat of silence, he spoke softly, almost as if recalling a distant memory. “I felt something like that... after Skako Minor,” he said, his voice thick with a past that still haunted him. He fell quiet for a moment, looking around as if the present had suddenly become too sharp. His eyes, however, soon found something that grounded him—Omega, laughing joyously as he swung from Hunter’s outstretched arms. The sound of Omega's laughter echoed, a brief, fleeting reminder of simpler times, and for a moment, it seemed to pull Echo back to the here and now.

Echo cleared his throat, the weight of his words lingering in the air before he continued, his voice quieter, yet tinged with an intensity that made every syllable feel heavy. “Everything I knew… was gone. My brothers, my squadmates—one by one, they fell during the war. Fives, even, after I was gone. It was as if the world I once knew had vanished, and I was left standing in a place that no longer fit me. The 501st, the camaraderie... it all felt distant, like I was someone else entirely. I could see it in Rex’s eyes, the way he hesitated, the way he couldn’t look at me without that weight of guilt and confusion. That look stayed with him the whole ride back. He was angry—angry at the war, at the situation, maybe even at me. Ashamed of what had happened, what we’d lost. It made me feel confused... so damned confused about where I fit into this new world.” Echo’s voice softened, a touch of bitterness creeping in as he finished, “It’s why I haven’t—”

Tech turned towards his brother, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he realized how freely his own thoughts had spilled out. He had expected an interrogation, perhaps even a stern lecture, urging him to swallow his frustrations and push through, to return to Leena despite the strain. But instead, Echo was speaking to him, revealing the rawness of his own struggles. He was opening up about the overwhelming challenge of returning after his imprisonment, attempting to show that he understood the deep, emotional turmoil that came with such life-altering changes. It was clear now why Echo had been the last to address his split—it wasn’t just about his connection with Mae or his own marital difficulties. No, it ran deeper. Echo's silence had come from a place of empathy, of understanding how difficult it could be to navigate personal turmoil when the world around you was shifting in ways you couldn’t control.

Tech's mind raced as the realization clicked into place, and his words followed, almost as if completing the thought that had been left unsaid. "That’s why you haven’t discussed my recent separation from Leena," he murmured, his voice quiet but full of understanding.

“I trust that you would never make a decision without weighing all the consequences first,” Echo began, his tone steady but firm. “I think the others... they’re coming at this situation from a different angle. They’re focused on how things might look, how it might reflect on them, maybe not fully understanding that you’ve been carrying this for a long time. You’ve thought about it, mulled it over, worked through every possible outcome. That much is clear.” Echo’s gaze met his brother’s, unwavering. “If you’ve come to the conclusion that this is the best decision for you, then who am I to judge? It’s your call, not theirs.”

“It feels… selfish,” Tech admitted, his voice tinged with doubt. “I worry that I’m admitting defeat, like I’m saying I can’t make it work when I made a commitment. Isn’t it unfair to her if I just give up when things get difficult?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, the bitterness he’d been holding inside finding its way to the surface. He stared down at his hands, nervously gnawing at the dry skin around his nail beds with the edges of his teeth, his mind swirling in frustration. The habit was one he often relied on in moments of discomfort, a way to distract himself from the anxiety that gnawed at his insides. The need to do something, anything, only heightened his unease as he waited for Echo’s response, as if the silence between them would somehow make the weight of his doubts heavier.

Echo studied him for a long moment, his expression softening as he took in the turmoil written so plainly on his brother’s face. “It’s not selfish to acknowledge that something isn’t working,” Echo said quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle. He stepped closer, his words thoughtful but firm. “It’s okay to admit that things are hard, that not everything you thought you could fix is going to be fixed. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up; it just means you’re recognizing your own limits, and that’s… that’s something most people never do.”

Echo paused, letting the silence hang between them for a moment. “You made a commitment, yes. But that commitment doesn’t have to mean staying in something that’s hurting both of you. It’s about finding what’s best in the long run, not just for you, but for her too. Sometimes that means letting go, even when it feels like failure.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Tech muttered, his voice quieter now as he looked down, his hands slowly falling into his lap. The weight of Echo’s words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Tech felt the full force of a truth he had been avoiding. There was a chance—no, a strong possibility—that the differences between him and Leena ran so deep, so fundamentally incompatible, that no amount of effort on his part could ever truly fix them. He had spent so much time focused on wanting to make things work, on believing that his commitment and determination could overcome any obstacle. But now, the reality hit him: some differences couldn’t be bridged, and no matter how much he tried, they would only lead to more pain, more misunderstandings, more hurt feelings—for both of them.

Tech had said something similar to Leena when he told her he couldn’t continue the relationship, that staying together was only going to cause more damage. He had framed it as a way to stop the hurt, a noble reason to walk away. But even then, he hadn’t truly internalized it. It had been easier to speak the words than to accept them fully, to acknowledge the depth of the situation. He’d told himself that they could still work things out, that the discomfort would eventually fade. But now, faced with the weight of Echo’s perspective, the truth felt heavier. It wasn’t just about wanting to fix it; sometimes, some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how much you wanted them to be.

“Permission to speak freely?” Echo asked, his voice low as he reached for the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. The sounds of the party faded into the background, a few yards away, giving them the necessary space to talk without interruption. Fortunately, the distance also meant they were out of earshot of Leena, who was somewhere in the crowd with her ever-present shadow, Chori, keeping a watchful eye.

Tech gave a slight nod, his throat tight as he swallowed the contents of his glass in one smooth motion. He knew, logically, that drinking when he was already feeling this way wasn’t the best choice, but tonight, he allowed himself a rare indulgence. He was allowed to be irrational, just this once.

Echo watched him for a moment before speaking again, his voice soft but direct. “I’ve known something was off for a while, Tech. Not just with you and Leena, but with you in general. The way you’ve been... holding on to something that wasn’t quite there anymore. It’s not my place to say, but I’ve noticed. I’ve always been quiet about it, kept my thoughts to myself. Didn’t want to push, didn’t want to make you feel like I was intruding on something that you were still trying to make work.” He paused, his eyes meeting Tech’s, a quiet understanding passing between them.

“I could see the misalignment from the start, though. It was subtle at first, but it was there. The way you both reacted to each other, like you were trying to fit into a mold that didn’t suit either of you. I didn’t want to say anything because I know how much you wanted it to work—how much you tried to make it work. But after a while, it started to feel like an invasion of your space, like me saying something about it would have made things even harder for you, like I was pushing where I had no right to.”

Echo let out a quiet breath, his voice more thoughtful now. “I guess I held back because I didn’t want to be the one to make you face it, if you weren’t ready. I’ve always known you needed time to process things on your own. But I think, deep down, I knew this was coming. And now, it’s not about blame, Tech. It’s just... reality. Sometimes, the hardest thing is to admit that something you’ve put so much into can’t be fixed, no matter how much you want it to be.”

In many ways, Tech wished this were just another engineering problem. Something he could break down, analyze, and put away in a box, only to revisit when he had more time, or when he had acquired more knowledge about how to make it work. Machines had always made more sense to him than people ever could. They were predictable, logical, structured—everything he could understand with precision. People, on the other hand, were messy, complex, and far more difficult to navigate. It was how he was made, a soldier whose talents were inherently tactical, built for problem-solving in ways that had always been about mechanics, not matters of the heart. None of them had been created for domestic life, not in the way it demanded.

Perhaps, with more time, he could learn to approach this differently—to be gentler with himself, to stop holding himself to a standard he’d never been taught to meet. But that, too, would be a process. Tech wasn’t sure he’d ever fully figure it out. He wasn’t a man who excelled in emotions, not the way he excelled in finding solutions. He was just… a man, caught in the middle of something he didn’t have the skillset to process, trying to make sense of an area where his usual logical approach simply didn’t fit.

Tech cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of Echo's words settle in his chest. He glanced up at his brother, eyes steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. “Thanks, Echo,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “For saying what you did. It’s… it’s a lot to process, but it helps, more than you know.” He took another breath, the familiar knot of anxiety in his stomach tightening again. “You’ve always been good at providing a different perspective I hadn’t considered-”

His words trailed off as his gaze unconsciously shifted across the room. There, standing just outside the group, was Leena. She wasn’t looking at anyone else, her eyes locked on him with a focused intensity that made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Her posture was stiff, almost as though she were waiting for him to approach, or maybe for him to make some sort of decision.

The silence between them stretched, and Tech suddenly felt exposed, as if the weight of his conversation with Echo had somehow carried over into the moment. He swallowed hard, pushing his glass away and standing up abruptly. His legs felt unsteady as the room seemed to narrow in on him, and the very air around him thickened with an uncomfortable pressure.

“I… I need some air,” he muttered, the words half to himself, half to Echo. Without waiting for a reply, he made a hasty exit, his footsteps quick as he moved through the crowd, trying to shake the feeling that Leena’s gaze was still burning into him from across the room.

Tech didn’t dare look back as he moved through the party, the voices of the crowd muffled in his ears. His mind was racing too fast for him to focus on anything other than the need to escape, to put distance between himself and the uncomfortable knot that had settled deep in his gut. As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a sudden shock, and for a moment, he stood there, letting the breeze wash over him. The night sky stretched above, the stars sharp and distant.

He leaned against the wall of the building, eyes scanning the dark horizon, but all he could see were the images of Leena’s eyes—those eyes that felt like they were reading him, peeling back the layers he’d carefully built up, exposing every doubt and uncertainty he had tried so hard to hide.

He clenched his fists, the tightness in his chest growing with every passing second. He didn’t want to face her—not yet. Not with everything still so unresolved in his mind. But the longer he stood out there, the more it seemed impossible to avoid. The conversation with Echo had helped to clarify some things, but it hadn’t solved anything. He still didn’t know how to move forward, how to reconcile the commitment he had made with the growing distance between him and Leena.

The sound of footsteps approached, and Tech stiffened, his heart rate quickening. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. He could feel it, the shift in the air, the pull of her presence that seemed to demand his attention. Leena stepped into the dim light, her expression unreadable.

“You didn’t have to leave like that,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. Disappointment? Hurt? Or maybe it was just the strain of everything that had been left unsaid between them.

Tech swallowed, turning slightly to face her, but keeping his distance. “I wasn’t—" He paused, frustrated with himself for not knowing the right words. “I just needed some space.”

Leena’s gaze softened for a moment, but there was still a quiet sadness in her eyes. “I don’t want you to shut me out, Tech. Please don’t keep shutting me out. We can talk about this, we can talk it over-” She took a tentative step forward, but stopped herself, as if unsure whether to push or to wait for him to make the next move.

Tech could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of her words settling into the air between them. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t have the solution. He didn’t know what to say to fix this.

“I—” He started again, but once more, the words failed him. And for the first time, it felt like he wasn’t just facing a problem he could solve with logic. He was facing something far more complicated than that. 

On one hand, Tech felt a gnawing sense of obligation to honor her request, to not shut her out. He knew it was important to communicate, to not close himself off entirely. But something deep inside him resisted the idea. He had been down this road before, hadn’t he? It was that very mindset—putting her needs ahead of his own—that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Time and again, he had neglected his own well-being, sacrificing his peace and his happiness to make sure hers were met. Until, one day, he found himself so emotionally drained that even the simplest breath felt like a struggle.

He was used to yielding, used to bending to her wants because it felt easier, safer, but after his conversation with Echo, something had shifted in him. Maybe it wasn’t selfish to take a step back for himself. Maybe, for once, it was okay to deny his own instincts to always give in. The decision to split was one he knew, deep down, was for both their benefit. This relationship, as much as he had wanted it to work, had slowly chipped away at him, leaving him in a constant state of compromise without ever feeling like his own needs were truly met.

In giving in to her request now, in allowing himself to be swept up by her pleading, he’d be undoing everything he’d just begun to understand—everything he had started to rebuild, for his own well-being and for the sake of a future where both of them could heal.

“I want space, Leena,” Tech said softly, his voice quiet but firm, the words laced with the uncertainty of his own conflict. He wasn’t sure how harsh his tone had sounded, but he knew, deep down, it was the truth.

Leena’s gaze was intense, almost desperate, as she stepped closer to him. “Space?” she echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. “You’re just going to shut me out again? Tech, I’m right here. All I want is for us to work.” Her hands wrung together, a subtle sign of the growing tension she felt. “Why can’t you just let me in? I’m trying to help, to make this better.”

Tech’s chest tightened, the familiar feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He could feel her words pressing against him, tugging at his resolve. But inside, something shifted—something he couldn’t ignore. I need this. I need this distance. Separating is how we make this better for both of us.

“I already have explained myself to everyone, including you. I am so tired of explaining myself-” he said, his voice low and increasing with frustration, the words slipping out before he could fully steady himself. “I just... need space, Leena. I’m not sure what else to say.”

Her eyes began pooling with tears, but the change in her expression only seemed to fuel her determination. She took another step forward, her voice growing more and more hysterical by the moment. “I don’t want space Tech. I don’t want to lose you.”

Before Tech could respond, she reached out, her hand brushing gently against his arm, a silent request for him to listen, to stay connected. But the contact, the closeness, was too much. His pulse quickened, and a wave of discomfort washed over him. His skin felt too tight, his heart racing in a way that made him dizzy. Not only that but her very bold emotional reaction working to undo all his commitment to the split he desperately needed, nearly coming undone by her outburst.

“No,” he whispered, stepping back quickly, his breath catching in his throat. He looked at her, and for a moment, it seemed like the world had slowed down. “Don’t—don’t touch me.”

Leena froze, her hand still suspended in the air, a slight frown creasing her brow as she tried to process the shift in his demeanor. “Tech—”

His gaze hardened, and he swallowed, the words finally coming out with the clarity he’d been searching for. “I don’t regret this,” he said, the certainty in his voice surprising even him. “I don’t regret ending things. I don’t feel it is unfair to ask for space. I am asking you to respect that.”

At that, she began crying, mouth opening as the only coherent words slipping past her lips as she continued to step forward were mumbles of his name and unintelligible pleading.

“I can’t be the partner you need me to be. I have tried-”

Her gaze was intense, hurt flashing across her face as she took another step forward, hand once again seeking his as he once again pulled away, stepping back. “This isn’t just about you, Tech. This affects me, too. Don’t I deserve that effort-”

Tech closed his eyes for a moment, his head dipping in a slow, almost imperceptible shake as the familiar weight of guilt crept in once more. But the decision had been made. He couldn’t go back, even if it was uncomfortable. He had given everything he could, and no matter how much she refused to see it, that effort had been genuine. “You do deserve more, Leena,” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, the words softer now, as though they hurt to say. “And that’s exactly why I’m doing this. Because you deserve someone who can give you more than I’m able to. I can’t keep pretending this isn’t just as unfair to me as it is to you.”

He took a breath, the words flowing with a quiet conviction he hadn't expected to find. “You deserve a partner who doesn’t pull away, someone who can embrace your spirit instead of stifling it. I’ve failed you in so many ways, Leena. I’ve let you down, and it’s not right for you to keep asking me to continue failing you.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them—heavy and thick. Leena’s lips parted as if she was going to say something, but the words faltered, as if she was weighing her options, unsure how to respond without sounding desperate. Before she could reach for him again, a voice broke through the tension, sharp and direct. “Leena, stop.”

Kayden’s figure appeared at the edge of the conversation, her stance confident, arms crossed as she watched her sister with a knowing expression. “You’re not listening. He’s asking for space. And you need to respect that.”

Leena’s head snapped toward her sister, her eyes wide with surprise. “Kayden, I—”

“No,” Kayden interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re so focused on your own hurt that you can’t see it. He’s made his decision, Leena. He’s telling you he wants space. And you need to respect him.”

The words hit Leena like a physical blow, her face crumpling for a moment as if she hadn’t expected her sister to be the one to call her out. She glanced at Tech, her expression wavering, but there was no turning back. Kayden’s voice was like a fresh breath, cutting through the clouded air around them.

“You can’t keep pushing him into something he doesn’t want. He’s been clear, Leena. It’s not fair to either of you to keep holding on to something that’s already broken.” Kayden’s eyes softened just a touch, but she didn’t look away from her sister. “You deserve better than this... and so does he.”

Leena opened her mouth as if to protest, but her sister’s words hung in the air, silencing any further arguments. Her hands dropped to her sides, her gaze dropping as her shoulders slumped in defeat. For the first time, she wasn’t trying to convince him to stay. She was just… listening.

Tech took a deep breath, the tension leaving his body slightly as he glanced at Kayden, giving her a silent nod of gratitude. Then, his attention returned to Leena. “I’m sorry, Leena. I really am. But I need to do this... for both of us.”

There was a long pause before Leena finally nodded, her face unreadable as she turned away, walking slowly toward the door, her sister following behind her with a glance back at Tech. The room seemed emptier in the wake of their departure, but the weight on Tech’s chest lightened just a fraction.

He had stood his ground. And though the weight of it hurt more than he could have imagined, he knew, deep down, it was the right choice. As he made his way back to his home, the quiet victory settled within him—a sense that this could finally be the end of the cycle. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break they both needed to move on from the pain and the hurt.

Because, in the end, that was all he truly wanted.

Leena felt the sharp tug on her shoulder the moment she sank into the empty chair, her body heavy with exhaustion. She lifted a trembling hand to her eyes, wiping away the tears that had fallen too freely. Her emotions were a chaotic storm inside her—grief, anger, confusion. A part of her felt utterly betrayed. Kayden had chosen his side. Her own twin, the one who was supposed to stand by her, had sided with Tech—the man who was now tearing apart their marriage.

As Leena stared at the smeared mascara on her palm, the weight of Kayden's words crashed over her like a cold wave. The accusation was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn’t sure how to respond, or even if she could respond. Her twin, the one person who should have understood, had now tugged her into this painful conversation, pulling her away from the comfort of her own thoughts.

Tech’s revelation weeks ago had left her reeling, blindsided. He’d asked for space so suddenly, and in that moment, it felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t known things had gone so wrong. Once the initial shock wore off, all she was left with was a hollow, gnawing emptiness, and a suffocating sense of doubt. What had she done wrong? Was it her? Had she somehow failed him? The questions spun relentlessly in her mind, each one more accusing than the last.

She let out a shaky breath, feeling her chest tighten as the tears began to well again. She hated how weak she felt, hated that the tears wouldn’t stop, but she couldn’t stop them. Not now. Not when everything was unraveling, when her world was crumbling around her. She had given so much to this relationship, to Tech—her time, her love, her devotion—and this was how it ended? With him walking away, with her sister telling her to let him go? It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel fair.

Her mind drifted back to that conversation with Tech, the one that had shattered everything. She remembered his words so clearly, the way he had said it, as if there was no other choice. "I need space, Leena." Those words had cut through her like a blade, leaving her gasping for air. She had wanted to scream at him, to beg him not to do this, but all she could manage was a soft, broken plea for him to stay.

But he hadn’t.

And now, Kayden was standing in front of her, looking at her with eyes that seemed to ask why she was still holding on. Leena wasn’t sure how to answer. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. How could she explain the way her heart had been wrapped around Tech, how she had believed that if she just tried harder, if she just loved him better, everything would fall into place? She hadn’t been ready to let go. And even now, part of her wasn’t.

Kayden’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Leena,” she said softly, her tone more gentle now, though still firm. “I know this hurts. I know you want to fight for it, but you can’t keep clinging to something that’s already broken. You can’t keep sacrificing yourself for a relationship that isn’t right for either of you-” 

"Tech is right for me, Kay!" Leena snapped, her frustration finally spilling over, the harshness in her voice unfiltered. The strain had been building for days, but it was the wallowing, the constant replaying of her pain, that made it so difficult for her to step back and see the bigger picture. Kayden had been patient—too patient—but it was clear that the longer the situation dragged on, the more it tested her own limits.

Fights between them were rare, but the longer Leena clung to her hurt, the more it pushed Kayden to her breaking point. Kayden, once confused and uncertain just like everyone else, had slowly come to understand how deeply this was affecting Tech—how long he'd been quietly bearing the weight of it all. Conversations with Crosshair, Mae, and others had opened her eyes to the toll it was taking on him.

“Is he?” Kayden’s voice was cold now, her patience thinning. “I thought you hated how he spoke to you sometimes—like you couldn’t understand anything unless he explained it to you as if you were... incapable.”

Leena opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She knew her sister wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said out loud stung in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Or how many times you’ve cried to me about how late he stays up working, leaving you alone at night,” Kayden continued, her voice gaining strength. “You’ve said yourself that his need for sleep—or lack of it—makes you feel... invisible. You’re lonely, Leena. And you’re scared to admit it.”

Leena flinched, her chest tightening at the truth in Kayden’s words. It wasn’t something she liked to admit—not even to herself. But the more Kayden spoke, the more she saw the cracks in her perfect vision of Tech and their relationship. Maybe Kayden was right. Maybe it wasn’t all Tech that was the problem. Maybe... maybe it was something deeper.

“Those aren’t too big to overcome, we can work through them,” Leena hummed, her voice lacking the conviction she wanted to project. She acknowledged the points her sister was making about the struggles in her marriage, but she dismissed them, unwilling to believe they were significant enough to drive a wedge between her and Tech. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was just too painful to accept the possibility that the cracks might be irreparable.

Kayden’s voice was flat, unwavering, as she asked, “Do you remember when we were kids? The one thing you always said you wanted from a man?”

Leena froze for a moment, taken aback by her sister’s sudden shift in tone. She hadn’t expected this particular memory to surface, especially not now. But before Leena could respond, Kayden pressed on, her words blunt and sharp. “You said all you ever wanted was someone who would laugh at all your jokes. You remember that night? The one where you made us sit through your rehearsed comedy routine? You told us you’d only marry a man who thought you were the funniest person on the planet. Well, Leena, Tech is not that man. He never was. He doesn’t get your humor. He doesn’t match your playful spirit at all, and I am so tired of watching you shrink yourself, stifling that part of you just to keep him happy.”

Leena felt her chest tighten, the words sinking deep into her. She hadn’t expected Kayden to bring up the ways in which she had changed—how she’d learned to be quieter, how she’d stopped being spontaneous, and how she had begun to second-guess herself, wondering whether any of her jokes would be too much for Tech. It had happened slowly, like a shadow creeping over her, but it had become undeniable. She had altered herself, had dulled parts of her personality to fit into the mold she thought Tech wanted. To fit into a life that no longer felt as joyful or free.

Admitting it out loud, even to herself, was painful—like ripping a bandage off an old wound. The realization that she had sacrificed pieces of who she was just to make her relationship work felt like a betrayal, not just to Tech, but to herself.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat. How could she respond? How could she justify the parts of herself that she had buried? She glanced down at her hands, the weight of the conversation pressing on her chest.

Kayden’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “I just want you to see what’s happening, Leena. You’ve changed for him, and you don’t even seem to realize it. You’ve become this quieter version of yourself, this shadow of the woman I used to know. And it breaks my heart to see it. You deserve someone who sees you—all of you. Someone who can laugh with you, who doesn’t need you to be something you’re not.”

Leena swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. The truth felt like a stone lodged in her chest, and the more she tried to push it aside, the heavier it grew. Her heart ached as she realized that Kayden wasn’t wrong. Tech hadn’t been the one to stifle her; it was her own fear of losing him that had pushed her to change. She had thought that by being quieter, more reserved, she could make things easier for him. But in doing so, she’d lost parts of herself—parts she wasn’t sure how to get back.

Kayden’s eyes softened further, but the conviction in her voice didn’t waver. “You don’t have to lose yourself to make a relationship work, Leena. You just need to be yourself. Same as Tech needs to be himself.”

Leena sat silently for a long moment, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as Kayden’s words echoed in her mind. She felt a tightness in her chest, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. Kayden was right, she knew it, but the truth was so much harder to face than she had anticipated. The idea that she had changed herself to fit someone else's expectations, that she had let go of pieces of who she was just to make her relationship work—it was too painful, too much to process all at once.

“I... I can’t do this right now, Kayden,” Leena whispered, her voice breaking as she pulled her hands away, as if physically distancing herself from the truth. She stood abruptly, her eyes welling up with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t talk about this anymore.”

Kayden was silent for a moment, taken aback by her sister’s sudden withdrawal. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Leena shook her head quickly, her face flushing with a mixture of frustration and helplessness.

“I just... I need space, okay?” Leena snapped, the words sharp but muffled by the weight of everything she was feeling. “I need to be alone.”

Kayden frowned, her brows furrowing in concern, but she didn’t press further. She knew pushing Leena right now wouldn’t help. The walls were up, and trying to break them down would only make her retreat further.

"Leena, you don't—" Kayden began, but Leena cut her off, her voice strained with an intensity she hadn’t shown before.

“Please, Kayden,” she said quietly, but with a firmness that brooked no argument. “I just need a moment. I can’t deal with all of this... not right now.”

Kayden bit her lip, watching her sister step away from the conversation, her heart heavy with the weight of what had been said—and what had not been said. She knew Leena was hurting, but some truths were too hard to confront all at once.

Leena turned on her heel and quickly made her way toward the door, pausing just before she stepped out. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said softly, barely above a whisper, before disappearing into the quiet of the night.

Kayden stayed seated, her gaze following her twin’s retreating figure. She didn’t chase after her. Leena needed space, and if she was going to find her way through this, she needed to find it on her own terms.

Kayden just hoped she’d find it soon.

Chapter 2 HERE

Art by the lovely @leenathegreengirl!

When I first started drawing the Bad Batch, I felt it was like a story of Hunter being a mother duck leading a group of little ducklings.

Deployment Book

The original

The process of drawing them was really fun😊. I copied Hunter's face and then made some adjustments, trying to capture their differences. Apart from Tech and Crosshair, only their face shapes are shared (which are relatively long and thin).

For this reason, they did not put a laser sight on his rifle. But the whole party goes around with such pointers to incite him against enemies like a cat.

Tumblr

Eobe

It was the pencil. And @foxwithadarkside 🫶 I really wanted to give him the badass dark sniper stage, but it’s always a matter of time until

Hallmarks of Crosshair the black cat: kill the red laser dot Tech will handle it. @eobe @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @covert1ntrovert

One of the lost opportunity creators. They didn't tell their story until season 7 and before the war. Although it is quite interesting and I hope that it will be revealed at least in additional sources, as it was with the Ventress and Vosa arch.

More minibatch adventure I need a full show maybe too XD

❤️

tech <3

Felt like everyone would appreciate a pinup Wallpaper of The Bad Batch.

PS : I DON'T OWN ANY OF THIS ART!

Wrecker art - @kaisurave

Tech art - @drasin

Crosshair art - @shyranno

Echo art - @kaijurave

Hunter art - @space-b33

It was a gift from omega

Oh my god, I love this, he and this art is stunning

[Image ID: Digital illustration of Tech from Star Wars: The Bad Batch. Tech is sitting on the open hatch of the Havoc Marauder, holding onto a pulley cable with his right arm. Slight design edits have been made to his mercenary armor: most notably are stronger orange and pink accents. The second image is a close-up of his face. End ID.]

So is Werewolf!Hunter scared or nervous that he might hurt omega?

He is a creature born of the Sith, after all.

teehee I’m back to drawing bad batch thingsss— gonna be answering all of your lovely asks in my inbox as soon as I can!! Take this fun sketch of Hunter, and the fear of his more…fluffy, toothy side.

He is definitely afraid of hurting her. Bloodlust is built into the curse, and sometimes, his instincts become difficult to quell. It’s in moments such as these, that he has to take certain measures to ensure he doesn’t do anything he’ll come to regret.

We were robbed of wet rat Hunter

Tell me why the animators did everything in their power to avoid showing Hunter with wet hair on screen 😩 ✋

THEY LITERALLY SHOWED HIM GETTING TO SHORE ONLY TO BE BLOCKED BY THE GASPING FORM OF WRECKER(lol) AND THEN HE TURNS AWAY FROM THE CAMERA A N D T H E N HE STANDS UP BUT HIS HEAD IS DIRECTLY CUT OUT OF FRAME WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS DID THIS anyway