#i will not lose because you can not win

[jedi-lothwolf]

Whump: The Musical Day 7: The Last Five Years (I will not lose because you can not win.")

Fandom: The Batch Batch

Warning: Cannon typical violence

Summary: When Hemlock invades Pabu, the batch has to fight for their lives as well as the lives of the citizens of the peaceful Island.

Ao3 link

  Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. When Hunter had woken up, he was dragged down to the beach by Omega and Deke. They wanted to show him that they had learned how to surf. Even if he wouldn't admit it, Hunter was proud of the clones for learning how to be children.

    Wrecker had forced Crosshair down to the beach as well. The warm sand and pleasant smell should help him to relax the man thought. So the three brothers sat on a red towel and started to talk. It wasn't much, but it was somewhere to start.

    Mox and Stak joined them shortly and started to work on a sand castle. Some clouds covered the sunny sky. But when Hunter looked up, they weren't clouds. Imperial vessels blocked the sun.

    This couldn't be happening. Pabu was supposed to be safe. It wasn't meant for invasions. So many of the people spent too long running just to have to up their whole lives again. Hunter looked back down.

    Looking at Crosshair, he spoke. "Get Omega and the boys to the ship. Be ready to leave. Call Echo and tell him we need help, immediately."

    In truth, Hunter knew why he chose Crosshair. With his hand, even if he hadn't told them yet, he knew that he'd be the one whose help they need the least. Now if he could still hit any mark, that could have been a different story.

    But there was more to that. Wrecker had a history with Pabu. He would protect it fiercely. The island was his home, the people were his family.

    As Deke rode a wave in, Hunter stood. The father ran out to two of his youngest that were in the water. "Go over to Crosshair" he told them. They nodded before Hunter went to Mox and Stak and pulled them up from the sand.

    "What's going on?" Mox asked. Nervousness was written all over his face.

    "The empire-"

    "We could tell" Stak interrupted.

    "Go with your siblings." It was the first time he had outright called their siblings to their faces. If it had been any other time, Hunter would have said more. For now, it would have to wait."

    As Hunter walked the other two over with the rest of the group, Omega started to talk. "We can help!"

    "I know, but it's you they want and the boys haven't finished their training. It's safer this way."

    "And someone needs to watch Cross." Wrecker tried to add some humor to the situation.

    Phee joined them on the beach, knowing that it was Clone Force 99 who had unfortunately brought the Empire to Pabu. Hunter walked over to her before she met the rest of the group. "Make sure Omega gets out of here. They want her and we wouldn't let her get taken again."

    "Okay." She looked past the Sargent, "come on kids, let's get you to safety!"

    Sighing, Crosshair grabbed Omega and picked her up. "Come on."

    "Put me down!" Omega fought Crosshair all the way up the beach.

    "Now what?" Wrecker asked.

    "We fight."

    At the Mauradur, Crosshair was quick to make the decision to leave. Batcher awoke from her nap and laid with Omega to help keep her calm. The boys mostly sat with her or talked to Crosshair as they left the atmosphere and headed to Coruscant to meet with Echo.

    As the days passed, the battle of Pabu seemed to be more and more helpless. Civilians were dying, some who had fought and some who had not.    

    When the bad batch had settled on Pabu, they taught Shep how to shoot. The mayor had agreed to ease their minds, never thinking he would need to use this new skill. Unfortunately it was only a matter of time. Lyana stayed near her father when she could. Mostly she was hidden with other children.

    When the invasion began, Hunter had suddenly become a Sargent again. It had been a long time since he played that role. Civilians who had fought in wars, civil or intergalactical, had taken up their old military rank. It was strange.

    The invasion had lasted days. Hemlock wouldn't give up until he found Omega, unaware she had been taken off world. Pabu was being torn apart, lives crumbled to the ground and while some knew why the empire had attacked, most didn't. For the people who did, they couldn't and wouldn't be mad at Clone Force 99 for trying to live peaceful lives and for trying to protect their daughter and little girl.

    It had been four days into the fighting when Hemlock showed his face. When Hunter met Hemlock for the second time, injured and tired, he knew meeting the scientist twice was three times too many.

    "Hello CT-9901, or should I say Hunter?" Hemlock spoke.

    Startled and out of breath, Hunter didn't answer. It had been so long since he heard his CT number, he had almost forgotten it. Still, he knew the malice behind it.

"This can all end, just give me the girl."

"Never." Hunter moved behind a counter. He sank to the floor for a moment.

"I figured as much. I truly am impressed that you are capable of forming such a bond with her. A parental role appears to come so easily to you."

The words made Hunter's skin crawl. Why would he be unable to form a bond with her? Omega was his daughter, nothing could change that. Was it because he was a clone? Was that why he was deemed unable to love a child, to have children he felt were his own?

"The safest option for your men and the civilians of this island, is to stop the fighting. You cannot win this battle, Sargent."

"I will not lose because you can not win."

Silents filled the room. They stood in a ruined kitchen. The checkered floors were stained with blood and glass. The cabinets had been torn open by both the empire and the citizens of Pabu. They needed food and they needed wood. The empire hadn't taken their time to bring out flame throwers to scorch the island and its people.

"You, won't win this." Hunter reinforced the idea. "You can't. I won't let you. " Pulling his knife from its sheath, he tried to find a clear shot at Hemlock.

The scientist couldn't win. In the end, he would round up every single citizen and kill them off. With Wrecker taking part in the fight, he needed his to be okay. With everything Tech had sacrificed to save them, they couldn't die here. Crosshair and his kids would be alone. It hurt knowing that Omega would blame herself for the slaughter of the people of Pabu. Echo would wish he arrived earlier and would blame himself for not being there to save them.

They needed saving. They couldn't do it alone. The Sargent only had one shot at killing Hemlock. Blood pooled under Hunter from his injuries. With broken ribs, multiple deep lacerations on his legs as well as his arms and one close to his neck, a few broken toes, and a large amount of bruising, the man was unsure how he had stayed alive this long. He could feel blood on the side of his face but he wasn't sure if it came from his left ear (since he couldn't hear from it) or from his head.

The vibro-knife shook in his hand. It almost felt foreign. Standing slowly, yet staying out of view, Hunter grabbed a piece of glass from behind the mahogany counter. Looking at it for a moment, he sighed. They couldn't afford to lose. Not anymore. Losing meant dying and for the first time in so long, Hunter had something to live for. His brothers and children and family he had made on Padu and his pets (Gonky included) all meant the world to him. No one else needed to die.

However, If he had to give all of that up to save them, to win the battle of Pabu, the battle for his family, he would.

Throwing the glass, Hunter hoped that it would distract Hemlock and his guards. When it did, the man stood fully and threw his knife. As soon as he saw it plunge deep into his skull, he felt a weight be lifted off of his chest. The weight was replaced with a bullet.

The tile cracked when he fell. There wasn't much Hunter could think about. The sound of ships overhead relieved Hunter. It had to be Echo. If not, the empire would take the island in a matter of hours.

Hunter's entire body hurt. The warm feeling of blood tangled with his hair. The glass had cut any exposed skin. The guards grabbed Hemlock's body and went to leave. Hunter listened to the footsteps as they faded. His mind was so foggy that evening and nothing made his sense. But Hemlock was dead. If that was Echo, which it had to be, Pabu would rebuild. The coppery smell of blood filled Hunter's nose.

Dying, Hunter tried to reach for his comm. Hitting it, the world started to fade. His hand rested on the communication device long enough for Echo to notice the soft noise of fire and gunshots that played over his headset. Then his hand slipped off the button and the comm channel went silent.

The man had never expected to wake up again. But when he saw a white roof, he knew something was different. Everything hurt too damn much for him to be dead. There was a steady, high pitched beeping that hurt his ears; or at least the one he could still hear out of.

Had they won? Was everyone safe? Where was his family, his kids?

"Hunter!" Omega yelled, answering one of his questions. "He's awake" she shook Echo awake.

"Hunter?" Echo grounded as he sat up. Then he pinched himself.

"You actually woke up." Crosshair stood up. "It's been a week."

"Leave him alone. He needed his beauty rest" Wrecker joked. The boys and Batcher sat in the corner of the room, still half asleep.

"Is everyone, okay?" Hunter finally said, struggling to speak.

"We're okay."

"Pa-Pabu."

"In shambles. We were about to leave to help with the rebuilding and attend a few funerals. We'll send you regards. They people were rooting for you." Echo told him.

"We're lucky you came in when you did. You saved us." Nudging Echo, Wrecker walked over to wake up the boys.

"Where-"

"Alderaan. Rex has some allies here. We couldn't help you on our own, the damage done to you, it was too extensive." Walking beside Hunter, Echo stood next to him.

"Dad!" Deke yelled, excited. He ran over to him and just about toppled Echo.

"You're actually alive" Stak added.

"Hey." Mox was the last to stand as he was trying to not disturb Batcher.

Hemlock's words about his parental instincts ran through Hunter's head. However, that didn't matter. He was their father. Just because he was a clone didn't mean he didn't form bonds with people he cared dearly for.

"We can stay for a little but Hunter needs to rest, we need to get back to Pabu." Walking to the door, Echo went to tell the nurses that Hunter had woken up.

Omega clung to Hunter's arm, determined to never let go. Crosshair and Wrecker sat at the end of the bed. Wrecker looked rough but that was to be expected.

"Tell me everything later" the Sargent whispered.

"We will." After a few hours, Echo decided it was time to go. Omega and Batcher stayed with Hunter while the rest left for Pabu. Knowing that Hemlock couldn't hurt her, made breathing just a little bit easier. So did knowing that most everyone he cared about was safe; though by now someone would have told him if Phee, Shep, or Lyana had died.

Everything would be okay. It had to be. Now that Hemlock was out of the way, maybe the batch could live a peaceful life. Even if Hunter knew they would end up in the fight, it was a nice thought. But the clone knew his place was fighting for peace. After all, if he wanted Omega and his boys to be safe, he needed to make a safer galaxy. And that was okay with him. If he needed to fight he would. For his children.

@whumpthemusical

[likehephaestionwhodied]

I'll listen to "if I didn't Belive in You" bc it's a good fucking song and I love Jeremy Jordan. But then it makes me so so scared of literally every relationship i have with literally everyone.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Game night results (from this poll)

Character selection inspired from extraterezi's post!

[firestorm09890]

Penny stardewvalley makes me so sad because she's SO sensitive to, like, basically everything you tell her (telling her that you can't stand children while two children are nearby is a pretty lousy move but -1500 friendship?? being a jerk to other characters' faces typically loses you about 50 points, and if you choose the option labeled "creepy" and ask Leah for a kiss in her 2 heart event she physically hits you and kicks you out of her house but that's only -100 friendship…) and so if you want to befriend her it's a whole lot of lying and tiptoeing around her feelings (2 hearts: George was right but saying that makes her feel bad. 6 hearts: her food sucks but even if you try to be polite about it she feels like a failure; only a bald-faced lie pleases her. 8 hearts: saying you don't want to be tied down with a family loses you a little bit of friendship and she's only happy if you say you want kids) and I can't help but think she's a product of her environment. She lives in a trailer with only her mother, who gets drunk every night and has something of a temper. Penny's like a skittish rescue animal who won’t even come out from hiding under something unless you leave her lots of treats

[vigilskeep]

when you first start the cousland origin, you can have some conversations with arl howe, teyrn cousland, and duncan that shed some interesting light on the political situation in ferelden. it’s definitely the origin where you get the most context on the rebellion and on cailan and his father. while howe isn’t exactly the most trustworthy of sources, he is also one of the most openly critical of cailan that we have access to, which i think is worthy of interest

howe remembers maric with what the toolset describes as “genuine fondness”: “your father hasn’t spoken of our time with him? that man took care of his friends. as they say, he was large as life and twice as tall!” i think we should pay particular attention to that man took care of his friends.

what howe’s talking about is a really important aspect of kingship, where you win the consent and enthusiasm of the nobility for your rule by offering rewards like wealth, land, and prestige to the loyal. kingship is always less stable than it’s portrayed, and this is one of the ways that kings must essentially sell to the nobility that answering to them is worth their time, which would be especially important in ferelden given everything we know about its culture. fereldans believe someone only has power when it is given by the loyalty of those below them, who have the right to freely rescind that loyalty. the dao codex says that “the sight of [fereldan kings] asking for—and working to win—the support of ‘lesser’ men is a source of constant wonder to foreign ambassadors.”

i suspect howe is remembering a maric fresh from the victories of the rebellion, who was able to reward those who had followed him with the spoils of those victories. at the end of the stolen throne, we see that in the final days of the rebellion, maric was killing those who had betrayed his mother to the orlesians even when they arrived under truce to meet him on holy ground. in dao, we see no lingering orlesian nobility except for those who married in and continue to be met with marked hostility. i think we can safely surmise that maric elected to make no conciliatory measures and give everything to those who had followed him; with the orlesians on the run and his people out for blood, he was in a strong enough position to do so, and it certainly served to win the fond memories of men like howe.

by contrast, howe goes on to say, “it’s too bad cailan isn’t half that.” the toolset notes establish very clearly that it’s the same issue, elaborating on howe’s thoughts: “bitter turn, i don’t get as much from the current king”, and “disdainful, i have no use for him, he does me no favours”. this isn’t a minor character detail, if howe’s last words when killed by the player are anything to go by. “maker spit on you... i deserved... more...” whatever it is that howe feels he should have been given, by the crown or anyone else, it characterises his actions and his defining treachery.

it’s in these same conversations that we see another side of this demonstrated. there are two points where howe can openly criticise the king, and bryce immediately admonishes him for both. one even has the toolset note: “speaks sharply, as a lord to a lesser man, not a friend to an equal”. it definitely comes across that way; the way he tells howe “that’s enough” is not far off the voice he uses when the player, his child, displeases him. bryce can’t tolerate any criticism of cailan, as the couslands in dao are ardent supporters of the king. to venture some hc, i suspect that this is not merely royalist fervour, and that howe’s resentment for having been given less is matched by bryce’s awareness of the precariousness of having more.

over the centuries, the theirins have consolidated their power and eradicated almost all the teyrns (the noble rank that is second only to the king). with the only other lingering teyrn being loghain, who is essentially part and parcel of the royal family, the couslands stand alone as the only real rivals to theirin power within ferelden. there are rumours that bryce was once considered for king instead of the theirins; he too could have decided to believe he “deserved more”. but unlike howe, and perhaps understandably given his strong position and happy growing family, he is satisfied with what he has. he will not take the risk of even the slightest challenge being made within his hall

(i expect that bryce’s satisfaction with the current situation further spurred howe’s dissatisfaction to its heights, given the complicated cousland-howe history and the fact that he was expected to accept a friend he had fought beside as a superior for the rest of his life.)

i don’t think howe’s judgement on cailan is likely to be without basis. we don’t hear about any victories the young king has to his name, from which he could have passed around spoils. (to be fair, cailan had harder luck than maric in this regard. a king who raises a successful rebellion gets to bring glory and prestige to everyone who follows him, whereas a king trying to rebuild after that rebellion mostly gets to bring, uh, taxes probably. especially on wealthy centres of trade like howe’s amaranthine, one might assume.) cailan also takes a far more diplomatic approach to the question of orlais, which perhaps predictably did not win over many nobles of howe’s generation. it makes sense that cailan’s strongest supporters would instead be men like bryce who hope for things to simply continue, peacefully, as they are. perhaps in another world where cailan had won the battle of ostagar, he might have earned wider respect. (you could actually argue on this basis that there’s more sense and purpose to cailan’s glory-seeking than he usually gets credit for.) but howe already acts before ostagar, which can only demonstrate his certainty in cailan’s failings at this point: his belief that even if cailan could win, he would not be stable enough to pursue justice for the couslands

[abyssalzones]

stanford motherfucking pines

[myrmica]

its so funny that all minute—the guy who once upon a time hoped to redeem zam—'s team has accomplished is getting him to consider giving up his remaining honor in order to match the level they're playing on ?

[piyo13sdoodles]

day 18, hote chapter 48:

And his Radiancy, whipping around to glare at him, glared--and then he started to laugh, and magic shimmered into illumination around them, fell through the air, filled the room with sparkles and shimmers, and his Radiancy slumped down to a seat on the divan and raised his hands up to the magic raining down, and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[buumbaby]

something catch your eye captain?

[jedi-lothwolf]

Whump: The Musical master list! Firstly I had a great time coming up with ideas for these prompts! This is truly a very unique challenge! I look forward to next year's! Hopefully I'll post everything in time and finish it!

To make finding stories you may like easier, I have color coronated everything. Summaries and notes/warnings are with the stories! I hope you enjoy them!!

Fandoms: The Bad Batch, Star Wars, The Owl House,

Day 1: Cats (Second Chance)

Day 2: Wicked ("No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.")

Day 3: Jesus Christ Superstar (betrayed)

Day 4: Les Misérables (Survivors Guilt)

Day 5: Heathers (Reluctant Whumper)

Day 6: Newsies (Chronic Pain)

Day 7: The Last Five Years (I will not lose because you can not win.")

Day 8: Day 8: Hades Town (Deals)

Day 9: Sweeney Todd (Razers)

Day 10: Rent ("Feels Too Damn Much Like Home.")

Day 11: Bare: A Pop Opera (Outing/Religious Trauma)

[galadriel-blue]

There better be a scene in TROP sometime in the future where Galadriel dances and Theo gets to see it. She told him that story and he took it with disbelief, but I want him to see that even the most cold, heartbroken people were once full of joy, and if Galadriel can feel happiness in something so simple after so many years, maybe he can experience that joy again too

[myfairkatiecat]

not my friends being 400x less supportive about me being Christian than I am about them being atheist

[statementlou]

So I see folks pointing out that Louis' circle A tattoo is more likely an aesthetic choice than an announcement of a political commitment to anarchism, and saying basically that that maybe makes him a bit of a poser and I mean- I GUESS. But I don't like to look at things that way and I don't think it's useful. As I see it the subversive sexiness of the symbols of resistance have ALWAYS been gateways for people who are drawn to the struggle in vague ways and that's GOOD. Aligning yourself with those values is good no matter the reason, in my book, especially given the wretched options available out there, but also the journey doesn't necessarily stop there. Gatekeeping queerness victimizes people who are just trying things out and starting to discover that it may run deeper than just trying on a new look who should instead be welcomed and helped along their path, and I fail to see how gatekeeping political affiliations is any different (plus how counterproductive to actual movement building is that?)

ANYWAY. What I really want to say about Louis is that while I KNOW that Louis is probably not secretly a theory reading anti-state communalist anarchist, I think that actually Louis' optimism and idealism (and his unwavering commitment to allying himself with the working class and embracing those roots) are a perfect fit for the philosophy and always have been. I know that anarchism is mostly understood as being about throwing molotov cocktails and fighting the state (and the allure of its symbols are that they signify this, a terrific aesthetic for him to choose to sign on with in my book), but that's honestly largely cartoonish stereotyping that comes directly from anti-anarchist state propaganda. That resistance is necessary in this hellscape of oppression we live in and is super important, but in its heart anarchism is only about the state in that the state and capitalism currently stands in the way of its goals. The whole point of anarchism is that it's NOT about the state! It's about being able to imagine something better than a state, it's about how we live and about how we SHOULD live, it's about HOPE and picturing something utopian and something free of the ways capitalism pits us against one another! What could be more Louis than that?

"I need you and you need me and I love that" is as beautiful a way of talking about the cornerstone of anarchism that is mutual aid as any long winded essay I've read (even if what he meant was contextually different), and I think when he talks again and again about how special the space fans have made around him is he is expressing an intuitive understanding of the importance of autonomous zones, places and moments outside of the shitty life imposed on us by the system (also a huge part of anarchist thought). Maybe I'm just being an optimist but I think that Louis DOES understand that caring for people and wanting self-determination and freedom for all and allying himself with the working class involves a certain amount of resistance to and positioning yourself in opposition to the state. Thinking the symbols of smashing that state are cool isn't meaningless; it's a CHOICE. There are other cool symbols out there and I just happen to think that feeling a resonance with certain ones is something in and of itself, even if at this moment he does not choose to start a fight with the media about it all.

[trappedinafantasy37]

The worst part about working in a male dominated field is being surrounded by men, complaining that Trump might lose and that if it weren't for women voting, everything would be fine. Never have I ever filled up with fear so quickly. I have felt unsafe at previous jobs before, but it was always because of customers. And customers eventually leave. This is the first time I have felt unsafe because of my coworkers and they have made it quite clear that they think my rights should be taken away.

I'm sorry to get personal/political here. But I'm a little freaked out and on the verge of a panic attack. How the fuck am I supposed to go to work tomorrow without being terrified? How am I going to survive the entire week, waiting for the states to count? I live in a purple state and it can go either way. I have only been old enough to vote in two elections and both times I've had to vote for my life because I am a minority three times over. This isn't fair!

[novadragoness]

A builder who totally understands where X is coming from, collecting all those shinies for Coco, because she also likes shiny things, and has been secretly leaving pretty rocks on Unsuur's porch for weeks now.