Reader's corner and writer's desk

[rendomski]

Hello there 🖐️!

My nickname is Rendomski, and I've been involved in a variety of fandoms for the larger part of my life. My current obsession is "The Bad Batch", and all my latest fanfiction is on AO3.

Main warning: I am not a native English speaker, and beta readers are hard to come by, so I apologize in advance for some clumsiness of my language.

I am also an avid reader, and I like commenting, reviewing and recommending fanfiction; and criticizing occasionally. Hope to continue this tradition in my new blog on Tumblr 🙂

[megmca]

[scissorsaint]

you really do meet some of the loveliest people talking about blood and sex on the internet

[ladykagewaki]

The Baby Batch: A Special Event, Especially for Wrecker

For @marierg

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @ladykatakuri @thecoffeelorian @bring-backup-99 @99tech99 @clonethirstingisreal @sunshinesdaydream @jane8675 @eclec-tech @noblelightfighter @nika6q @snowlotr @heidnspeak @skellymom @diamondluna2 @blinxxd @feralferrule @salbean-chaos @adamime @iseefire16 @whoisaddy @ilovethebabybatch

[letshareapapou]

Echo can't get a tattoo. Something about the ink.

So Crosshair finds another way to match him with the squad.

Meanwhile:

[probadbatch]

Highly underrated Wrecker moment

[letshareapapou]

[daidrm]

Yeah!! This is sick! Explosions in the background, buzzing of the wires, and slashes from Huhters knife. This is amazing!

[trekkie-dunes]

i've just rewatched the outpost and, my god, it's so incredibly painful how long it takes crosshair to realise that mayday wants to know his name. the silence after mayday says his own speaks volumes. i loathe thinking about how long crosshair had to live through without anyone calling him by his name, only ever referring to him as ct-9904.

mayday was the first to treat him like a human being in months. he was the first one to see him, after months of being completely alone. it also makes me incredibly soft and sad how, when mayday drags the heater towards crosshair, he literally gives him light.

i will never be normal about this episode.

[rendomski]

I got an impression that Crosshair does not remove his helmet at first as if reluctant to chase Mayday away with his non-regular looks, the first person who treats him as someone who has a name.

In the beginning Crosshair is ordered to put his helmet on. He ends up walking through the snow storm and confronting Nolan barefaced, every feeling written clearly on it. And he develops a lot of feelings along the way.

[pipistrellus]

my favorite part in attack of the clones is when obi-wan just fucks off to play space nancy drew on Clone Rain Planet with the alarming giraffe-necked aliens and swans in like “HELLO IT’S ME, the jedi who definitely… … was here before and probably, uh, spoke to you, and stuff” and theyre like “ah you are here for the order” and hes like “beg pardon” and theyre like “the order of millions of identical human men?” and hes like “RIGHT YES. ABSOLUTELY I AM HERE FOR THE ORDER OF MILLIONS OF IDENTICAL HUMAN MEN”

and then later when he SNEAKS INTO A CORNER TO FUCKING… facetime yoda… like “ok so we have these millions of identical human men who were apparently suspiciously ordered for us by someone???” and yodas fucking response is just “when countless sapient lemons life gives you…….. send those lemons into intergalactic battle you must”

 and obi-wan’s like “shit man you’re so right" 

[kinky-space-nerd]

There literally isn’t a frame of this scene where Obi-Wan doesn’t look confused as hell

[gothcostco]

[flyboy-and-fight-me]

the Kaminoans: We have 5 million people that look exactly like Jango Fett

Obi-Wan:

[sequestered-jester]

Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter,

Hello. My sweeties.

[crazyaboutalotofthings22]

[ajmultifandoms]

He’s just a little guy🥺

[rendomski]

He started it!

(supposedly grown-up brother)

[rendomski]

Last line challenge

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Thanks for tagging @huntressdarkness! 

The progress of my WIP is slow and a bit non-linear but it is here:

“Tech, did you give it a thought? Our plans regarding a caf machine?” “Meaning, your crazy idea to steal a caf machine.”

No pressure tagging: @projectdrow, @hobbititties, @tacticaltoothpick

[turtledork02]

wrecker and crosshair are definitely the “drama duo” of the bad batch. all of them are crazy motherfuckers who do insane shit, but those two are referred to even by their own brothers as “all the drama”.

wrecker because he’s boisterous and has big reactions to everything. when he’s excited, he’s super excited and is going to share his excitement with everyone. when he’s sad about something, it’s big crocodile tears. when he’s appalled, he makes sure everyone in the room knows about it.

crosshair because he is so bitchy about even the slightest inconvenience. his coffee was knocked over? someone has it out for him and did it on purpose. he tripped on a mission? it’s now the worst day ever and he’s making it everyone’s problem.

when the two of them have dramatic moments together the other brothers joke the world must be about to end

[robotsandramblings]

telling myself that Crosshair knew how to fight off Clone X's knife attacks because of past training/sparring with Hunter

[probadbatch]

@robotsandramblings nope sorry that made me laugh way too hard for it to stay in the tags

[letshareapapou]

After their first time sparring:

Crosshair coming into their room: Hunter stabbed me-!

Wrecker : What did you do?

Crosshair : *disbelieving stare*

Tech : Wrecker's question is fair.

[rendomski]

You? Attacking me? With a knife?

Gif by @darrye

[diagnosed-ordinary]

Love Potion/Love Spell with Hunter and Crosshair maybe??

Meant to be doing my assignment. Wrote this instead. Hope you enjoy :)

Impromptu Experiment

@badthingshappenbingo prompt Love Potion

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker Rating: T Word Count: ~1100

It was a mistake they both wanted to make, and this was the perfect excuse.

The flask sat on the table between them, screw-top lid tightly sealed. With the Marauder powered down, the interior of the ship was lit by what light streamed in through the cockpit door and the open ramp, casting a subtle day-gold glow off the burnished satin steel cylinder.

The two sat in abject silence, neither wishing to be the first to move. Moving would imply a decision, intent. A weakness, a yearning for the other. Weakness would at best be mocked, at worst exploited. Strategicians as they were, they studied the flask between them; risked surreptitious glances at the other, hoping their counterpart would cave first.

Crosshair’s tongue flicked out to wet parched lips and he leaned back, draping his arms along the back of the chair, affecting nonchalance.

“So what’s your poison?”

“Huh?” Hunter’s reaction was quick, sharp – too alert for their supposedly relaxed setting.

“Your mixer,” clarified Crosshair, with a nod towards the flask.

“Oh. Uh…” A frown wrinkled his brow, perfectly creasing the centre line of his tattoo, before Hunter shrugged. “Corellian brandy.”

Crosshair nodded with a smug smile, looking approving – as though either of them knew what that tasted like. GAR rations certainly didn’t include luxury drinks, and the Batch rarely had enough credits scraped together for the cheap gut-rot that burned the throat and shorted out Hunter’s enhanced senses for a week, let alone for a fine bottle of spirits like that.

“What about you?” Hunter prompted, to which Crosshair coughed and awkwardly shifted his position.

“Oh, well… you know…” He leaned forwards suddenly, forearms folded on the table, staring at the canister intently. “What did Tech say about this stuff?”

“Two or three drops to be mixed into the target’s drink,” Hunter recited flawlessly. “The Felucian distillate lacks the…uh…” A cough. “Uh… full aphrodisiac properties of the plant’s pollen. But…” and he shot a coy glance at Crosshair, a look which smouldered from the shadowed curtain of his hair and ink-dark skin, “it loosens inhibitions.”

“Which we’re going to use to extract information from uncooperative targets,” said Crosshair blithely, his intense stare a laser-brand of heat as it raked unashamedly across Hunter’s broad shoulders and pecs.

“Yeah,” Hunter coughed, shifting his weight, trying to look unaffected and failing by a parsec. “Something like that.”

“Two to three drops,” Crosshair muttered under his breath, then caught Hunter’s look with a wry huff of laughter. “Can’t even do shots.”

“We could try,” challenged Hunter immediately, as though unable to let any space hang after Crosshair’s words.

The sniper’s expression remained inscrutable, thoughts flickering behind his eyes as his mouth softened to something approaching a smile. Hunter remained relentlessly pinned by his steady gaze, his own agitation betrayed by aborted tics of movement in contrast to Crosshair’s stillness.

Silent, elegant, Crosshair slunk to his feet and reached languidly into the overhead locker. Hunting around without taking his eyes off Hunter. he turned up a pair of tumblers and placed them on the table with a decisive clink.

Hunter’s dry-mouthed swallow felt too loud in the closeness between them. Keeping his own gaze trained on Crosshair, he took the flask and with a single decisive twist, loosened the lid.

Crosshair’s smirk was victorious, his satisfaction all that was needed to goad Hunter on. Distillate be damned; they barely needed its effects. The promise of an excuse to release their inhibitions was all they needed.

“You first,” said Crosshair, and though he tried to sound casual the faintest tremor of anticipation betrayed his nerves.

“Age before beauty,” countered Hunter quickly, setting the open flask back on the table and nudging it towards Crosshair.

“I’ll pour,” said the sniper carefully, “and we both drink on three.”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

A moment lapsed into a minute, stretched into an awkward divide that yawned despite the anticipation.

“We don’t have to,” said Hunter; too fast, too casual.

“Give me a minute,” snapped Crosshair. “I’m building up to it.”

Another infinite minute. A clattering from outside.

The light dimmed momentarily as Wrecker’s huge frame crowded the doorway, spilling up the gangway and into the cool cabin interior as he dragged a huge forearm across his sweat-beaded brow.

“It’s bakin’ out there,” he groused at his usual too-loud volume, squinting and peering as the daylight-dazzle left him blinking. “How comes I have to help Tech with repairs, an’ you two get to sit around keepin’ cool? It’s not fair. I’m parched.”

He wasn’t exaggerating, the salt-bright smell of fresh sweat and exertion following him into the cabin. In two long strides he was beside the table, swiping up the flask in a single smooth move –

failing to see Hunter and Crosshair’s aborted lunges to stop him –

– and downed the contents in one.

The empty canister slammed back onto the table, accompanied by Wrecker wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Yeuch! What were you two drinkin’?” he asked, pulling a face and sticking out his tongue, making chewing movements to try and swallow the bitter taste from his mouth. “Ugh. That was disgusting.”

Hunter and Crosshair held their breath, watching each other and watching Wrecker with wide, wary eyes. Cautiously, Crosshair extended one hand, patting Wrecker sympathetically on the arm.

“You okay, big guy?” he asked, voice thin as he shot a questioning look at Hunter, trying to hide his alarm.

“’M fine,” grumbled Wrecker, turning to the cupboards and rooting through their supplies. “We gotta have something better than that in here…”

Hunter had been frantically tapping something into his wrist-com, and he pinged the information file to Crosshair before meeting his eyes and shooting a pointed look at Wrecker.

[The concentrated Felucian distillate is designed to be used once diluted. Purification of the extract and increased absorption into the bloodstream in liquified form render it more potent that the pollen from which it is derived. Further experimentation needed–]

Wrecker was already loosening the collar of his blacks, tugging at them as an unmistakeable flush crept up his chest and neck.

“Stupid hot planet,” he muttered, untidily crashing their supplies around as he hunted in the cupboard. “Kriffing… why’s it so hot…”

A wordless look passed between Hunter and Crosshair. Without being told, Crosshair rose, ghosting behind Wrecker and hovering his hands tantalisingly above his hips.

“’M gonna get Tech,” Hunter muttered, although he eyed Wrecker with equal interest. “He’s, uh… gonna want to see the results of this impromptu experiment.”

Want to check out the other Bad Things Happen Bingo prompts? Find them Here and make a request! :)

[leeleebee]

I just think Fives would be the little spoon.

50% of my art is people in bunks. Maybe more.

[Image ID: a digital illustration of Echo and Fives in a bunk. Echo is behind Fives with an arm wrapped around him. They are both in their blacks rolled down to their waists. Both are smiling wide. End ID]

[foxwithadarkside]

Summer of Bad Batch

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

Tech: It’s not what you think

Phee: It's exactly what you think

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

[phee-spirited]

We needed to know if the earpieces emitted feedback when in close proximity. We were already wearing them, so I figured why not?