#the 99: sacrifice

[infamous-if]

mc is talking about disappearing into the ocean to avoid their Problems and an RO is trying to rizz them up smh read the room /j 🙄

[driftingballoons]

Can’t let a business opportunity pass you by

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

"Tech's sacrifice in "Plan 99" proved he was willing to risk his life for the squad."

... 🤨

You mean, like when he:

Risked his life to jump after Omega into a dark abyss the instant he had (very rapidly) ascertained there was no other way to try saving her (noting he did this when, at that moment, there was not even a guarantee she could be saved)?

Risked his life by entering a death race to save his squad from the impossible situation of being caught between a blackmailer (Cid) and a gangster (Millegi)?

Risked his life by following Echo and Omega to make sure they were safe while at the cargo container crash site on Serreno, despite his crushed femur?

Risked his life by ensuring Echo and Omega, rather than he himself, were the first to be secured in the (relatively) safest area of the cargo hold when the container was released?

Risked his life every single time they were on a mission, by following orders and seeing his role through in order to ensure the squad's success and survival?

Just saying, Tech's sacrifice didn't "prove" anything we didn't already know about him and every other member of the Bad Batch. He and his siblings were willing to give their lives for each other from the very beginning.

[dangraccoon]

Let's Live

Day 31 ~ survivor's guilt ~ (alt. prompt)

Crosshair

Word Count: 1008 Content: references to The Outpost and Plan 99, self-sacrifice, guilt, survivor's guilt

He wasn’t sure if it was the violent shivers that rolled endlessly through his body or the sharp cry of the ice vultures but Crosshair found himself awake and sitting upright in the early morning hours. 

A soft, warm breeze fluttered the curtains of his open window. He could hear the sound of the tide coming in, splashing against the rocks near their cozy home. The sun was far enough from rising that the moonyos weren’t even starting to chitter yet.

Crosshair groaned, using his remaining hand to pull the blanket up over him as he flopped back down onto the too-comfortable mattress. 

He knew about phantom limbs, of course–Echo had grumbled about it enough to pique his curiosity–but it didn’t stop the frustration that rose in his chest as his body insisted that his right hand was shaking again. He shoved the end of his arm under his pillow, praying for the “out of sight, out of mind” mindset Wrecker had long used as an excuse for his forgetfulness.

It never came. Groaning once more–as though acting like a petulant child might make him feel better–he shoved the blanket away, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

Their house was an older one on the island; one of the elder residents had expressed that they wanted the batch to have it as she moved in with her daughter and son-in-law. “It was good enough to raise five kids in, so I’m sure Miss Omega can handle you lot in it.”

He walked through the house, idly thinking he should visit Mrs. Neawick soon–she was one of the only residents that could match his snark and she made sour hard candies that she pretended not to realize Crosshair loved–while stepping around the occasional creaking boards. He knew Hunter could hear him, but the least he could do was not make the disturbance worse.

He made it to the kitchen, noticing the caf maker’s timer starting the machine up. He scowled at the flimsi tooka calendar attached to the fridge. Omega had insisted on picking out different colored markers for each of them to write their various activities. “This way we can plan things together, too!”

He followed the sloppy orange scrawl that indicated Wrecker’s schedule and it made sense. Although Wrecker hated caf with a fiery passion, he’d come to rely upon it–mixed with an ungodly amount of cream, sugar, and whatever syrupy flavoring Omega had picked out, of course–for his early morning fishing trips with a fisherman he’d befriended.

Crosshair felt a little guilty that he couldn’t recall the man’s name, especially when he found their symbiotic relationship so amusing; the short and skinny fisherman had someone who could pull the lines up easily and carry their haul, and Wrecker had someone that never tired of his boisterous retellings of their missions and misadventures.

While he waited for the pot to finish brewing, he moved to the window, looking out over one of the lower sections of the island. Dawn was still an hour or so out, but the sky was just beginning to glow with the idea of first light. The various light-sensitive lamps still lit lined the walkways and outsides. He had to admit the view was… nice.

“Cross?” Wrecker hummed. “You’re up early.”

Crosshair glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who was wiping the sleep from his eyes. He shrugged.

“You okay?” Wrecker asked, joining him next to the window.

“Fine,” he murmured, though he could barely even convince himself of it. Wrecker would see right through him.

“Thinking about Tantiss?”

Crosshair winced. “No.”

“If you don’t tell me, ’m gonna go wake up Omega,” Wrecker shrugged, nudging Crosshair’s shoulder. “She’ll make you talk.”

Crosshair eyed his brother, almost trying to call his bluff with a glare.

“Alright,” Wrecker said, his tone shifting from sleepy concern to somewhat irritable. “That’s fine, Cross. Don’t talk about it. You’ll feel great keepin’ it all to yourself.”

Wrecker went about preparing his caf, pointedly ignoring Crosshair as he wrestled his unruly pride.

“Fine,” he growled, stalking over to the kitchen counter next to his brother to lean against it. “I had another nightmare. That’s why I’m awake.”

Wrecker’s facade of indifference fell almost immediately. He nodded, prodding him to continue.

“Not about T-Tantiss this time,” he continued, face twisting into a scowl at the way he struggled to push the words out. “Barton IV and… Mayday.”

Wrecker’s eyes lifted to look at Crosshair. He didn’t let a single noise slip, terrified that if he did Crosshair would retreat. Where Wrecker had always been open, Crosshair was the opposite. He’d been skittish around emotions since they were barely out of the tube.

“Mayday was the commander at the Outpost,” he elaborated. He’d only mentioned Mayday to Omega before, and that was only because she asked. “There was only him and two others left from his squad. They’d been there over a year guarding… stormtrooper equipment. Getting picked off by raiders. The lieutenant I– I killed sent us off to track the raiders. After we found and… eliminated them, there was an avalanche. I would’ve been killed if he hadn’t pushed me out of the way.”

Wrecker couldn’t help but notice the way Crosshair shivered.

“I carried him back to the Outpost. He was hurt a-and by the time we got there, that lieutenant… h-he wouldn’t get a medic. Mayday…”

A shaking sob crawled up his body and he was quickly encircled by Wrecker’s arms. He was powerless to stop the tears rolling down his cheek.

“He should’ve lived– it-it should’ve been me th-that–”

Wrecked shushed him. “Don’t talk like that. He gave his life for you to live, Cross.”

His hand clung to Wrecker’s shirt helplessly. “I… I owe him everything.”

“I know, vod. But we can’t get stuck in all the shouldas,” Wrecker whispered. “We owe it to them to live our lives ‘nd be as happy as we can, right?”

Wrecker didn’t say who he was thinking of. He didn’t need to. Crosshair nodded.

“Then let’s live. For them.”

« Previous Day

Thanks for reading! - River

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[pestercide]

Not going to lie, I’m surprised the fandom isn’t eating up the new tone shift and characters’ struggles in ep5. Maybe I’m not looking in the right spaces but fandoms usually love that stuff.

I KNOW I mean the amount of angst art that was made prior to the episode really made me think people were gonna take everything from the new ep and run with it. Though that's not to say people didn't. I've seen plenty of people discuss what happened in the episode (especially regarding John and his daughter/his family in general,, people were going insane over that and I get it like we're getting deeper into what happened to him and his family which I'm also super interested in. Plus seeing his photos in Ignacio's house really got people discussing his connections/past with the cult and how there's such a specific focus on John).

[heyclickadee]

I rewatched “Jedi Knight” the other day, since my brother is watching Rebels and I thought, may as well, and.

Ya know.

If there’s an episode of The Bad Batch that’s an inverse of “Jedi Knight,” “Plan 99” is it.

I love both episodes. I do. They’re painful, but they’re both very, very good. In fact, right now, sitting very solidly in my ‘Tech lives’ mindset, if you pushed me and asked which one I thought was better, I’d probably say “Plan 99,” just by a hair—though that changes on a day to day basis.

They’re both successful at doing what they set out to do, but they’re doing very different things. The way it’s structured, the way the beats play out, the emotions that hit, “Jedi Knight” is 5000% a character farewell episode from beginning to end.

“Plan 99” isn’t. At all.

And unless it turns out I’m really wrong, that’s a good thing.

[apocalyp-tech-a]

It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to say about the Bad Batch, but doing a little research for a new Tech-ology Vol. II story, I re-noticed that Omega was willing to jump off that rail car after Tech without question, only Hunter could hold her back.  Just the way Tech immediately jumped without question in to the unknown for her in the ipsium cave.  Nope, I’m not crying...  

[lightwise]

Plan 99

Short one-shot fic from Tech's perspective. I wanted to show the thoughts that must have been running through his mind as he fell. The love he has for his family. The peace he has in his decision.

After the season finale, I've had a number of thoughts and posts swimming in my head. What I didn't expect was the need to make a short one-shot from Tech's perspective.

Words: 1,238.

Warnings: mentions of falling, death, life flashing before one's eyes. Nothing violent or graphic. Just emotional. Please don't feel the need to read unless you are in the right headspace. I know this week has been very tough and I don't want to add to the pain, but making this was cathartic and I hope reading it is as well.

Note: I wrote the majority of this fic, including the last lines, before coming across @luxris incredible piece that they very kindly allowed me to include here. When I saw it I knew it had to be paired with what I had written. Go check out the rest of their work and give them a follow!

————————————————————

Plan 99

“Don’t you do it Tech!!”

“Hhuhhhh.” Tech looked down and shook his head, both in resignation and affection. Of course Wrecker would say that. Of course he would act out of emotion, not out of logic and a clear understanding of what needed to be done. 

Tech had already scanned the probability of every possible way to keep the railcar on the tracks and pull himself up before the bomber came close enough for another round. Plan 99–the last plan in their roster, the plan none of them had ever needed to use–was the only solution both his HUD graphics and his heart were telling him. Although even that only had a 78.6% chance of success if he did not move quickly enough. He suddenly had an intrusive thought shadowing the back of his mind–if he did not bring his blaster up to his side immediately, that clear-headed logic through which he interpreted the world might start to betray him. 

Wrecker was straining with all his might to hold the connection between the cable cars, dangerously close to falling himself. Omega stood a few paces behind him. Tech could not see her face clearly but he knew the exact expression of worry and fear it most likely held.

Tilting his head to the side, a myriad of sentences ran through his mind, but none of them seemed adequate. He didn’t have time for this convoluted process. The thought of Crosshair flashed before his eyes. His brother’s sniper rifle would have taken care of this situation at least 12 minutes ago. If he were here. If he weren’t the reason Tech was dangling over an open crevasse in the first place. It wasn’t his fault though. It was imperative that the others had the chance to find him, to bring him home. 

Tech would have done it all over again. And suddenly he knew what to say. 

His left hand firmly grasped his blaster as he pulled it roughly out of the holster, his right still clinging to the cable attached to his waist. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes as he began to take aim. The shot would have to be precise.

“When have we ever followed orders?” 

His blaster fired, shooting up through the grates of the metal above him, puncturing cleanly through the connection rod–right where he wanted it. His heart broke in half along with it. It was an odd sensation. 

The weight of the released cable car pushed a rush of air down at him as he began to fall. He had never been able to hold eye contact for very long when speaking to others. But now? His eyes stayed steady and wide, gazing up at his squad. No, he corrected himself instantly. His family. Omega had taught him better than that. He knew that she and Wrecker were screaming his name after him, but the pressure of the air tunneling up around him began to bring the blood to his head and left only the beat of each blood vessel in his ears. He began counting the pulses. The blaster had already flown out of his hand and his arms and legs began to float as though they were no longer a part of him. But he kept his gaze fixed on the one thing he wanted to engrave in his mind, the last thought that he wanted to dwell on. He did not have Crosshair’s enhanced eyesight, but he could have sworn that his brothers and sister never got any smaller as he continued to separate from them.

It was a long way down and he realized he had slightly underestimated the amount of time it would take for him to reach the ground. Or perhaps he had not accounted for the weightless swimming sensation that his mind had begun to feel. He had both researched and witnessed the ways in which people met their demise many times, and even the ways in which the mind began to play tricks on you, making time stretch out on its continuum. He was not afraid of the process of death. At least, the physical process of it. Yet he had not fully anticipated the ways in which he was suddenly seeing flashes of his life with both startling clarity and disconcerting speed. 

Hunter ruffling his hair, returning his goggles to him in a stark white corridor after several cadets had roughed him up for his “defects.” 

A Firepuncher poking over his shoulder as Crosshair relied on him for steady aim. 

Echo glancing over at him from the copilot’s seat, sharing a small grin as they heard Wrecker almost trip over Gonky in the back of the ship. 

The feel of his datapad in his hands, the cables and buttons an extension of his fingers, his mind, himself. 

Dirt falling from Omega’s hand as she pondered it with gleefully wide eyes after they landed on Saleucami. The granules somehow stained the white patches of fog currently engulfing him.

The faint hiss of a pod door opening and the wide eyes of Nala Se staring down at him with an inscrutable expression.

As the chill of the air around him began to pierce through his armor, his heart rate slowed, and memories began to overlap and merge together. It was like looking at a holostream, except instead of one program in linear sequence there were dozens of images swarming him at once, demanding his attention. 

Long nights on watch playing games against himself, with only Gonky to keep him company. A clap on the back from Cody, and a bemused, worried look from Rex. Dozens of droids sending blaster shots over their heads, one battle interchangeable for another. A toothpick dangling from long, slim fingers. Wrecker lying prone on a medical table on Bracca, Omega hovering over him. The whine of a racing pod, and voices distantly chanting his name as he gave a calm salute. A pounding pain in his shoulder from Wrecker punching him, repeatedly, from excitement. The shock on Romar’s face as a model 2 data core sprang to life under his steady hand. A sunset dipping low on Pabu, transferring its warmth to the lights that flicked on simultaneously in response.

The brimming electrical activity in his mind and the weightlessness of his limbs created a heightened, soothing sensation.

Grey, churning waves lapping at the window outside his bunk on Kamino. The whirr of Echo’s scomp calibrating the hyperdrive. Hunter’s voice, gruff and low as he looked back over his shoulder. The glancing light of a waterfall on Omega’s face, stained blue with tears. His hand moved to reach for her shoulder, to give her comfort the way he always did. 

Suddenly, all but one of the images faded away. Dark, fluffy curls and hazel-green eyes swam in front of his face, blurring and dancing in odd waves. Flashes of gold too. He thought he heard a lilting, familiar voice calling to him as his vision darkened. “I’ll see you soon, Brown Eyes.”

Those same eyes closed, red and swollen as the seal from the goggles that were made to protect them slipped. Air lashed at Tech’s exposed face and tears slid past his eyelashes and down his cheeks. As consciousness began to fade, he could almost convince himself that it was just a result of the wind. Just the wind…

What other choice could he possibly have made. 

[grandmoments]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

[ionastef]

if the s2 finale of twin peaks doesn't end with annie and cooper both alive and together i am killing myself david lynch this is a threat

[theriverdalereviewer]

everyone jumping to team kamala we will never experience true freedom in this country

[flight-freedom]

Getting older is strange.

I was born in 1995 (the late 1900s!) and when I was in my teens and early twenties I wanted to have a PERFECT body, a 6 pack, be able to run a half marathon at any given moment, be able to lift my bodyweight, etc... Some part of me thought beauty equated to goodness and attractiveness. I accomplished most of those and more.

But as I've gotten older I've been more comfortable just being as I am and taking things as they come. Knowing that beauty isn't a measure of goodness, someone can be model-esque but have an ugly personality that far far outweighs any possible good that their beauty could bring.

People remember how you made them feel, not necessarily how strong your muscles are/were or how perfect your body was/is. Muscles tend to fade, skin gets wrinkled, hair recedes and gets white- but personalities and the kindness you show others can be continuous and unforgettable.

And thus I just try not to be a jerk.

Still it's strange wistfully looking at the younger-folks with their clear, unwrinkled skin and youthful bodies... and remember what it was like.

Shape you take when you lay like that Reminds me of a love I've never had If loving's wrong, what's a boy to do? But dammit if you ain't drilled into my skull And they've been tryin' to smooth me out For twenty-seven seasons now For twenty-seven seasons

[rainerghost]

So some of my friends (who are fans of tadc) fucking kin assigned me to some character that's just a bunch of shapes or something (I think the characters name was like Zooby or something I don't fucking know). This is my breaking point. I'm finally fucking watching it.

[dangraccoon]

Look Around

Day 7 ~ magic with a cost ~

Tech

Word Count: 553 Content: D&D AU, Plan 99, self-sacrifice, the undead/zombies

“There are more coming,” Hunter huffed. His knife flashed in the dim light. 

“Where?” Omega asked. “I don’t see them!”

“I can hear them.”

Echo swore under his breath. “Tech should have been back by now.”

Wrecker smashed his hammer through several undead Imperial soldiers, laughing madly.

“There he is!” Omega cried, pointing behind them. Tech was running toward them from the other end of the bridge.

“Is that… thing set?” Hunter asked, subduing another soldier. 

“Yes,” Tech responded, launching a spell in the direction of several soldiers. “I need cover to set up the final component.”

The others surrounded him, fighting off any that would come near. Tech worked quickly for a few moments, doing his best to ignore the onslaught around him.

“Tech?” Echo called.

“Almost–ah! Damn it!”

Omega heard a zap and the sound of metal breaking. “What happened?”

“The spring mechanism snapped,” Tech explained. “I need to replace it or it will not work at all.”

“How long will that take?” Hunter growled.

Tech breathed heavily, staring down at his failing contraption.

One of the Empire’s creatures hurled Wrecker back and he landed right next to Tech.

“Wrecker, go through my pack,” he instructed frantically. “We need to replace both the spring and the gear attached to it. If I let go of the mechanism, the device will activate and it will bring down this entire bridge with us still on it.”

“Ahh!” Omega yelped, falling to the ground.

“Omega!” Hunter called, nearly losing focus on the close combat he was currently engaged in. 

“I-I’m okay,” she answered weakly, clutching her side.

Tech watched as his brothers took hit after hit, as his sister lay there, crying in pain.

“I can’t find it, Tech,” Wrecker said. 

Hunter took another particularly brutal hit to the gut.

Tech scowled, then looked up at his brother. “There is no time, Wrecker,” he said.

“No,” Wrecker growled as he realized what Tech was planning. “No-no-no, Tech–”

“Look around, Wrecker,” Tech roared. “You need to get them out of here.”

“What about you?” Omega breathed. Her voice was weak and her color was paling.

Tech’s resolve threatened to break. “Plan 99,” he managed.

Wrecker picked himself up with a groan, making his way over to Omega.

“Wrecker? Wrecker, no,” she protested as he lifted her. 

Echo kicked back one of the soldiers, squeezing Tech’s shoulder as he passed. 

Hunter gave him one last look, his eyes clearly portraying respect and appreciation. Tech nodded.

With his free hand, he grabbed one of the potion bottles attached to his belt. He threw it at the feet of the aggressors. It shattered and the broken glass collided with the potion inside. The spilled potion bubbled and exploded, tearing through the enemies around him, a spare few shards flying back and ripping through the skin on his side.

The bodies of the undead soldiers kept the others from advancing, but as the potion fizzled out, they began toward him again. 

He spared a look behind him. His family was safely off the bridge. He gave them a small nod; as much of a “goodbye” as he could give them.

He breathed in, then out. And he let go.

He could hear the bridge crumbling beneath him. He could feel it shaking violently. And then it finally gave out.

« Previous Day Next Day »

Thanks for reading! - River

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @Padawancat97 @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[sailforvalinor]

Team “Plan 99 is the ‘fake my death’ plan,” my besties in denial, please raise your hands

[sweaters-and-vertigo]

hemlock, throwing tech’s goggles at hunter: here’s a keepsake of your dead brother :)

me, who had some hope that tech was still alive: