#Presidential Protocol

[deadpresidents]

At the FDR Presidential Library, I read that the British press considered it crass and undignified for the Roosevelts to share hotdogs with the King and Queen of England when they visited Hyde Park. Are there any other fun anecdotes about Presidents serving the wrong food to dignitaries?

FDR also served them beer with their hot dogs! From the accounts that I've read, King George VI enjoyed them and asked for more. Queen Elizabeth (that's the Queen Mother -- Elizabeth II's mom) had to ask for directions about how to eat the hot dogs, but apparently ended up using a knife and fork. Apparently, the King and Queen really appreciated the lack of formality in their visit to Hyde Park because it came on the heels of a very formal, month-long state visit to Canada. President Roosevelt and King George even went swimming together a couple of times in FDR's pool and went for a ride in FDR's custom-made car that allowed him to control everything with his hands due to his disability.

Off the top of my head, I can't think of any incidents where Presidents served the wrong type of food to guests. I'm sure it has probably happened over the years, but State Dinners are pretty meticulously planned by protocol officials on both ends. One story that I always liked was President Reagan noting in a diary entry that Prince Charles (now King Charles III) was served tea during a visit to Washington but had absolutely no idea what to do with it because it was served with a tea bag.

From Reagan's diary entry on May 1, 1981:

"Highlight was noon visit by Prince Charles. He's a most likeable person. The ushers brought him tea -- horror of horrors they served it our way with a tea bag in the cup. It finally dawned on me that he was just holding the cup & then finally put it down on a table. I didn't know what to do. Mike [Deaver] escorted him back to the W.H. and apologized. The Prince [said], 'I didn't know what to do with it.'"

[artyandink]

cheque xyz 4 — steel nerves

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, post shower!dean, reader thirsting over Dean, very not professional stuff, Dean being a thirst trap, smut, besties being besties, attempted murder by proxy, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

STW: mentions of smut, masturbation (f. + m.), imagined smut

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Shameless by Camila Cabello

You were the President.

POTUS.

A symbol of feminism and reform.

But you were being kept awake by Dean Winchester, your bodyguard, with whom you should have a very strict, professional relationship, but no, you didn’t, instead you had thoughts in your head that had turned from almost getting shot to what would go on below the belt.

Oh, hell, you were going insane.

“Shit.” You breathed, turning over in bed before finally coming to rest on your back, staring up at the ceiling— ugh, when would this stop? The thirsting, seeing him all sexy, and you were so wound up your hand took over for itself, inching towards your panties, inch by inch.

Your career had been built on discipline, control, and unwavering focus. And yet Dean had managed to undo it all. It wasn’t just his looks—though, God knew, that man could have been carved from marble—it was his presence. He was steady and unflinching, a reassuring constant in a life full of chaos. And maybe that’s why your thoughts kept circling back to him. He made you feel safe, but worse than that, he made you feel alive.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it true.

Dean Winchester had faced down danger in all its forms: gunfire, car chases, and even a stint in the country’s most secure prison. He was supposed to be unshakable, calm under pressure, immune to the chaos around him. But here he was, lying in the dark on a too-small bed in his room, wide awake, because of you.

You, Madam President. The most powerful woman in the country. His boss.

And the single most maddening person to ever walk the earth.

Dean groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. He was supposed to protect you, not lie awake picturing you in every way but presidential. He should’ve been running through security protocols or strategies, but no. His brain was stuck on the curve of your smile, the soft way you’d looked at him earlier in the day, and worse — much worse — the way you’d looked that night in a fluffy white robe.

That damn robe.

Dean turned over on the bed, punching his pillow in frustration. “Shit.” The fabric of his plain t-shirt stuck to his chest as he shifted, the heat in the room matching the heat in his veins. He’d been trying to ignore it for hours, but the memory kept playing like a highlight reel he couldn’t shut off.

He hadn’t meant to linger in the doorway when he knocked earlier, but when you’d opened the door, barefoot and wrapped in that ridiculously soft-looking robe, his brain had short-circuited. The way it cinched around your waist, the way your skin glowed under the soft light of your room, and the way you’d looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise — it was enough to make his chest tighten and his pulse quicken.

You hadn’t even done anything overtly suggestive. You’d just stood there, looking at him with those sharp, intelligent eyes that always seemed to see right through him, and it had been enough to unravel him. He’d barely managed to stammer out a question about your safety, and when you’d assured him you were fine, he knew he should’ve turned and left immediately.

But he hadn’t.

You should’ve stopped your hand from slowly pulling down your panties, thighs rubbing together in a last ditch attempt at friction, but nothing came, obviously, other than a mild relief from the ache and the throb you were experiencing… like, 24/7. It made you think that Bella and Steph were right, that you really were down bad for Dean, even though you were very adamant to say no.

You gasped softly when two of your fingers found your clit, rubbing in small circles, your head pressing back against the pillow and thanking the thick walls as a small moan slipped past your lips after, your thumb taking over as those two fingers dragged up and down your cunt, imagining Dean whispering in your ear, either sweet nothings or dirty words, pushing two fingers into you so fast it made your head dizzy. And you didn’t even need to slow down.

“Dean,” The name slipped past your lips just as your vision turned hazy for three seconds before clearing, thanking whatever deity that Dean wasn’t sleeping outside of the door and instead back in his own room so he couldn’t hear you.

You blamed him.

You so blamed him for being so sexy, with that deep voice that made your panties soak, green eyes that pierced you to your very core, the way his strong hands would grab you and pull you to safety in the face of danger and how the corner of those pouty lips would quirk up every time he was amused. The water from the hose dripping down his chest as he watered the flower.

You probably shouldn’t sexualise him watering a flowerbed.

And you definitely shouldn’t sexualise his job.

Ok, Dean couldn’t exactly help the low groan and the way the heel of his palm began to grind on his cock over his sweats, other beginning to work those and his boxers down over his hips and ass so he could free himself, just imagining you on top of him, blouse unbuttoned just enough to admire those gorgeous tits, skirt or trousers — he wasn’t picky, it’d be ripped off anyway — off so he could fixate on that glistening, pretty pussy.

This was so wrong. Fuck it, we ball.

His thumb traced the vein on the base of his cock, his jaw clenching and the veins on his neck popping as he let out a strangled moan through gritted teeth, hand wrapping around his base and moving up and down slowly. God, if it was you, whether it be your mouth or cunt, moving on him like this, he’d probably go insane. Oh, Lord save him, he already was.

He blamed you.

Dean blamed you for the moans and grunts leaving his mouth as he pumped his cock in his fist, hips bucking up off the bed, eyelashes fluttering against the apples of his cheeks as his free hand gripped the sheets so tight he was almost fully sure they’d rip in his blunt nails. It played in his head, seeing you in your pyjamas, wearing that robe, the little Spitfire you were when he first arrived in chains and shackles.

He’d never seen a hot President. At least not one like you.

Your fingers were pumping in and out of your slick pussy, which was embarrassingly tight— probably from the hours spent campaigning and stressing over votes and legislation planning, not to mention multiple assassination attempts over the past two weeks that Dean had miraculously saved you from.

The image of him shoving that first hitman forward played in front of your head, and you wanted him to do that to you on a mattress instead.

Hell, you’d thank him.

“S’good, Dean, shit—” Little praises went to midair as your thumb worked over your clit, your fingers curled, only to just miss the spot inside you by one fucking centimetre, cause your fingers weren’t long enough. At least you made up for it by rolling your nipple between your forefinger and thumb through the fabric of your tank top, the friction against the soft fabric making you shudder.

Oh, you really shouldn’t be doing this, but you knew you couldn’t stop thinking about him, the way his eyes would rake over your body when you wore that robe— ugh, were you down bad and you couldn’t stop.

With a soft cry, you felt yourself come around his your fingers, panting a little when you realised that you’d just come to the thought of your bodyguard. Oh, Jesus.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the come on his hand, cursing himself. Shit, shit, shit. Did he just touch himself to you— better yet, did he just come to the thought of you? This was bad, he wasn’t meant to be thinking of you like that, let alone touching himself to his thought about you. Sure, you’d look so pretty riding him, but no. No.

He grabbed a tissue, groaning as he slid his sweats and boxers back on to clean up the mess before chucking it to the very bottom of the bin and bundling the sheets to throw them in the laundry basket. “Fuckin’ idiot, Dean, she’d never think’a you like that.”

Would you?

He didn’t know, you just seemed so… far away. Unattainable, if anyone was to gain your hand it would be someone like some wealthy, full of shit politician.

Not him.

He came from a poor background, where sawed-offs and tales of blood made up most of his childhood, as well as the drone to keep Sammy safe, make sure Sammy has enough food, a warm bed— he’d never wanted anything for himself until now. Until you, until freedom.

The morning sunlight poured into the room as you sat at your desk, brushing over the papers in front of you with little interest. It wasn’t your work occupying your thoughts today. No, it was the conversation you’d been rehearsing in your head for hours. You wanted to visit your family. You needed it—needed the familiarity of their voices, the warmth of their hugs, and a brief respite from the chaos of your new role. And the fact that you touched yourself to the thought of Dean last night.

When the door opened, and Dean walked in, his towering frame filling the space, you straightened your back and set your pen down. His presence always had that effect on you, like you had to pull yourself together whenever he was around.

"Morning," he said, his voice gruff as usual, his sharp green eyes scanning the room out of habit. He wore his usual suit, but the top button of his shirt was undone, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d already fought off one disaster this morning. It gave him that rugged, commanding aura you found all too distracting.

He bit his tongue to avoid a blush, to avoid a raging boner too.

"Dean," you started, trying to sound casual, even though your nerves had already started buzzing. "I need to talk to you about something."

He quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his broad chest. "What’s on your mind, Madam President?"

You rolled your eyes at the title, though the corners of your lips twitched. "I want to visit my family next weekend."

Dean’s reaction was immediate and expected. His arms unfolded, and his expression shifted into one of disbelief. "No," he said firmly, the word coming out almost like a growl.

You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"No," he repeated, stepping closer, his tone resolute. "It’s too dangerous. You know that. After everything that’s happened—"

"I’m aware of what’s happened," you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. You stood, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I’m the President of the United States, Dean. I don’t need your permission to see my family."

He exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. "It’s not about permission. It’s about keeping you alive."

"And I appreciate that, but I can’t let fear dictate my life," you argued, stepping closer to him. "I haven’t seen them in months. My mom, my dad—my little sister, Dean. They need to see me. I need to see them."

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he turned back to you, his eyes were burning with something you couldn’t quite place. "You think I don’t get that?" he said, his voice lower now, more intense. "You think I don’t understand what it’s like to want normal, to want family? But this isn’t normal. You’re not just some woman visiting her parents. You’re the goddamn President, and there’s a target on your back."

"I know that," you said, your tone softening slightly. "But I trust you to keep me safe, Dean. Isn’t that your job?"

His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. Then, in one swift motion, he moved closer, crowding you against the wall.

Your breath hitched as his hands came up, planting on either side of your head, boxing you in. His body was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mix of clean soap and faint cologne—invading your senses. His green eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them enough to make your heart pound.

"Do you think I don’t take that seriously?" he said, his voice low and rough. "Keeping you safe? It’s all I think about, every damn second. So don’t stand there and tell me to just ‘trust’ that it’ll be fine. Because if something happens to you, I—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours.

Your heart was practically slamming against your ribcage now, your mind screaming at the proximity, at the way his gaze kept flickering to your lips. Is he going to kiss me? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, and you couldn’t stop your breath from quickening.

You wanted to say something, anything, but your throat felt like it had closed up. All you could do was stare back at him, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence, the weight of his body so close to yours making it hard to think straight.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d crowded you, Dean’s expression shifted. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he let out a slow breath, his hands dropping to his sides.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself, before stepping back. The space between you felt like a sudden, cold void.

You blinked, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just passed through the room. "Dean—"

"Fine," he interrupted, his voice flat now, his face unreadable. "We’ll go. But I’m doubling security, and you’re not leaving my sight the entire trip."

It wasn’t the answer you’d expected, and it took you a moment to catch up. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he said, already turning toward the door. "I’ll handle the details. Just… don’t pull something like this again."

His hand was on the doorknob when you found your voice again. "Dean."

He paused, his back still to you.

"Thank you," you said softly.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. There was something there—something raw and unspoken—but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave you a small nod and walked out, leaving you alone with the echoes of your racing heart and the feeling. That feeling.

The sun hung high in the sky as you stood in your parents’ backyard, the familiar scent of freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers enveloping you in a blanket of nostalgia. Your father, Mark, was at the grill with Ryan, the two of them animatedly discussing something about football, while Austin darted around the yard with an energy only a twelve-year-old could muster. Your mom, Odette, was inside with Wyatt, cooing at the baby as Eden leaned against the picnic table beside you, sipping lemonade.

It was peaceful here. Normal. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe. The weight of the presidency, the looming threats, and the constant tension all seemed to melt away in the warmth of your family’s love. You turned to Eden, who smiled knowingly at you.

“You look like you’ve needed this,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from her face.

“More than I can even say,” you replied, sipping your own lemonade. “It’s been… a lot.”

Eden gave you a playful nudge. “And how’s it going with the bodyguard? What was his name again? Dean?”

Your cheeks warmed immediately, and you looked away, focusing on Austin’s wild antics as a distraction. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Eden teased, leaning closer. “Ryan told me he’s practically glued to your side. And he’s hot. Tell me you haven’t at least thought about it.”

Before you could answer—or even come up with a deflection—the sound of a distant car engine caught your attention. You turned instinctively, scanning the driveway where Dean stood near the gate, ever-watchful. He hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, just a few gruff instructions about staying within sight and letting him handle security.

Eden followed your gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly. “He’s not just hot. He’s smoldering. How do you even focus on work?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words never came. A sharp, deafening crack split the air, and time seemed to slow.

Gunfire.

Dean moved like a blur, faster than you’d ever seen anyone react. He was sprinting toward you before your brain even registered what was happening. His shout came as he dove in front of you. “Get down!”

The impact of his body hitting yours sent you stumbling backward, and Eden’s scream echoed in your ears. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs. Above you, Dean grunted, a low, pained sound, and you saw the crimson bloom of blood spreading across his side. Your heart stopped.

“Dean!” you gasped, scrambling to sit up. “You’re hit!”

“Stay down!” he barked, his voice a growl as he clutched his side. He drew his gun with his free hand and fired toward the direction of the shot—a figure in the treeline, partially obscured by the shadows. “Mark, Ryan—get everyone inside! Now!”

Your father and brother didn’t hesitate, shouting for the rest of the family to move. You watched as they ushered Eden and Austin inside, your mother clutching Wyatt tightly to her chest. But you couldn’t move. Your feet felt rooted to the spot as you stared at Dean, who was now kneeling, using the picnic table for cover as he returned fire.

“I said get inside!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours, fierce and unyielding.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m not leaving you.”

Dean swore under his breath, but there was no time to argue. The shooter was still firing, bullets splintering the wooden table and chipping the patio stones around you. Dean’s gun clicked empty, and he cursed again, fumbling for a spare magazine.

Without thinking, you reached for his backup weapon, the one he always kept holstered on his hip. Your hands trembled as you gripped the cool metal, the weight of it foreign and daunting.

Dean’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something that almost looked like pride. Then he nodded sharply. “Safety’s off. Point, aim, and squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger. Focus on the target.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you peeked around the table. The shooter was still in the treeline, barely visible through the foliage. Your hands shook as you raised the gun, the sights aligning on the dark figure.

“Breathe,” Dean said, his voice calm despite the chaos. “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

You inhaled deeply, steadying your hands as best you could. The shooter fired again, the sound sharp and jarring, but you didn’t flinch. You squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting your arms as the shot rang out.

Dean fired again too, having reloaded, his movements precise despite the blood staining his side. Between the two of you, the shooter faltered, retreating further into the trees. Dean didn’t hesitate. He rose to his feet, grabbing the edge of the picnic table for support, and turned to you.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. “Keep that gun ready, just in case.”

“Dean, you’re hurt—”

“Stay here,” he repeated, cutting you off. “I mean it.”

And then he was gone, moving toward the treeline with a determination that sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to follow, to help, but you knew better than to disobey him now. Instead, you stayed crouched behind the table, gripping the gun tightly and scanning the yard for any sign of danger.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and Dean emerged from the trees, dragging the shooter by the back of his jacket. The man was groaning, his face bloodied and his hands bound with a zip tie.

Dean’s expression was grim as he approached, his eyes flicking to you briefly. “It’s over,” he said, his voice rough. “You did good.”

Relief washed over you, and your knees buckled as you sank to the ground, the gun slipping from your fingers. Dean dropped the shooter unceremoniously onto the patio, his attention immediately shifting to you.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling beside you despite the obvious pain it caused him. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “You’re the one who got shot.”

“I’ll live,” he said with a faint smirk, though his face was pale. “You? You were a goddamn natural out there.”

The praise warmed you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of what had just happened. Your family was safe, but the thought of how close you’d come to losing them—or Dean—was almost too much to bear.

Dean seemed to sense your thoughts. He reached out, his hand settling gently on your shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded again, leaning into his touch for just a moment before the sound of sirens in the distance reminded you that the fight wasn’t over yet. But for now, you let yourself believe him. Dean always kept his promises.

You were a politician, not a medic.

Dean wasn’t gonna apologise for taking a bullet for you, you were the president and he was your bodyguard— a controversial bodyguard, since you’d hired him when he was still in the ADX, but was he gonna complain? No. But he hadn’t saved you purely cause he was fearful for his job, he liked you, for some odd reason.

So he was here, guiding you on how to re-bandage a bullet wound in his side, which could be added onto the list of things he’d taught you, like how to thrown a grown man over your shoulder and how to shoot. With it came a bunch of praise between the instructions, cause you got really nervous, he knew that.

You wouldn’t complain about the view either. He had built muscle, smooth skin, an amulet that hung from his neck, along with abs and biceps— oh, he’d make you drool. But he was your bodyguard, so you had to keep on listening to his instructions on how to clean and wrap this shit up. Yeah— yeah.

Honestly, seeing you all nervous to bandage up what — in his experience — was a small bullet wound, but in his and your defence, his line of work kind of consisted of everyday death in gruesome ways, so he’ll cut you some slack. Even if it was funny. But ok, ok, he’ll stop now, just kind of let his eyes drift on how pretty you were, how gorgeous, cause he’s never had a hot president before. Sweet.

"Fuck," he hissed, then chuckled— oh, shit, that hurt, but it was just, y’know, antiseptic, he was used to it, "ok, s’ good.” That jawline that could cut steel clenched slightly, but he didn’t move— except those delicious, lip-bite inducing abs rippling.

“Good, sweetheart.” Well, he had to be encouraging, it’s your first time bandaging. But it’s funny.

“You sure? Cause you just kinda made that sound and I have no idea what I’m doing, so…” the cloth with antiseptic was held aloft, having been snatched away when you first pressed it to his skin. You couldn’t trust yourself.

This was— really, really bad but also kind of cute. He shook his head, chuckling quietly, almost rolling his eyes, “yeah, I’m sure.” The words were said so calmly, like it wasn’t a big deal that you kept removing the cloth whenever it touched his wound, it wasn’t like he was in major pain or anything and it didn’t even phase his face. His eyes fluttered open to look at you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Go ahead, press it down. I promise I won’t move.”

“Yeah, I see.” You nodded, looking like you were scared of the cloth. “It kinda worries me how you’re acting like this is an everyday Tuesday.” Toned stomach, hot body, toned everything, sculpted biceps, panty-dropping everything—

“Hey, when you do what I do, it does become everyday Tuesday. Besides, it’s not that bad." He shook his head as you both just held the cloth against his abs, but he was paying more attention on how focused you looked on his wound and the bandage, cause it was cute, or maybe he was just focused on the fact you were touching him. Yeah, probably that.

But his abs were flexing slightly beneath your touch, well, beneath the cloth as he watched you watching your own hands hold the cloth, a soft amused smile on his lips.

You looked up, saw his smile and rolled your eyes with a laugh— the little shit. “Ugh— stop it. I’m a politician, not… whatever y’all called yourselves in the shady side. Never knew I’d have to help patch up my bodyguard.” Dick.

“I suppose you have a good point.” He chuckled, he had that same, sweet and sexy voice to match his charming, handsome face. "You weren’t meant to have to patch me up though." He shook his head, "suppose that’s part of my job description."

He couldn’t help but admire you and your features, pretty face, pretty eyes, soft laugh— oh. Pretty voice too, but of course. "I can take over if you need me to?" He’d ask softly, but honestly, he’d rather just have you continue.

“I’ve started this, I’m gonna damn well finish it.” You snorted, then looked through the medical materials— ooh, that looked like a lot, and so you cringed a little, looking between the wound, bandaging materials and him. “What— the fuck do I use next?”

The wound in question was on his lower left side, he’d definitely have another scar to add to the collection on his body, but it wasn’t that deep. Dean watched you, his lips twitching into another small smile at your tone of voice.

His eyes followed you looking between the wound and materials, and he reached forward, grabbing a gauze pad and handing it you, while he held a bandage roll of your choice in his other hand. "You’ve gotta put the pad over first then you wrap the bandage around." He explained, like a teacher would to a student, which really, he was.

“Ok, thank you,” You smiled — at least that was out of the way — so you took the pad and pressed it to his wound just firm enough, wrapping the bandages firm, not like a delicate flower, you knew that wouldn’t compress shit. “Ok? That good?”

Dean inhaled the moment you pressed the gauze to his wound, but he didn’t pull away, cause he was used to having stuff pressed, pushed, shoved, stabbed, sewn into his skin. He felt the slight burn of pressure, but he was fine.

That sounded dark.

He looked at your handy work, you were a damn quick learner, his own hand grabbing the bandage to help you to wrap. "Good job, sweetheart, you done well for your first time." Maybe he was a little proud— actually, he actually was.

“Really?” You looked up, then bit your lip excitedly, giggling— ok, that probably was just the Dean Winchester effect, giggling like a schoolgirl. “How do I, y’know, secure it? Stop it from falling?”

That sight definitely did something to him. He wasn’t about to turn on his president, but the giggling, fuck, had him biting the inside of his cheek. He just loved the sight and he was definitely going to be getting that image stuck in his brain.

Once you were done wrapping the bandage around the gauze pad, the only thing that kept it in place was tape. "You need some tape to secure it." He guided your hands to tape the bandage, grinning.

Too late, already turned on— you knew exactly what your sheets would be messy from this night. “Ok, is that done?” You asked, your hands springing off as if any move you made would make the bandage combust… or somethin’.

The little moment you moved your hands off like that made him chuckle, his head shaking a little. He noticed you were, you know, turned on-ish, his tongue darting out of his lips to wet them as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, it is." Pretty good.

He pressed his own hand against the bandage, before looking up at you, his eyes flicking down and up again, "you did a damn good job, sweetheart. For real."

“Good.” You nodded, then swallowed, rubbing your neck. “I should’ve taken your advice, going to meet my family was a bad idea. You got shot out of it. I’m sorry.”

Dean had been able to put two and two together with the moment you mentioned family, and with the mention of getting shot, he knew. Your parents didn’t have a good reaction to you becoming president, it wasn’t that surprising to him either. "You’re fine. Not your fault I got shot, sweetheart."

He said it genuinely, his tongue flicking out again to wet his lips, like a bad habit he had. "You needed to see them, even if it went to hell, you needed to see." He shook his head.

“I still care, y’know. About you.” You sighed, tilting your head. “Even if you tell me not to worry, I’ll… I’ll always worry. You’re human too.” That right there was a president who gave a damn.

God, you’re gonna make him do something. That sentence alone made his heart flutter, made a small smile form on his face, it was a gentle one. Hearing someone actually care about his wellbeing, made him feel things.

He was speechless for a moment, just looking at you, and that statement really sunk in. Yeah… he wasn’t used to people caring this much anymore. He always cared about someone in his line of work, but he? He didn’t really expect to be cared for. "Thank you." He said gently, honestly, sincerely.

"S’ alright. Didn't want to fuck it up." You smiled awkwardly, then felt the distance close, his hand going up, but at the same moment you jumped a little, he pulled away to check you were ok.

Did he mess it up? Was he gonna get fired? Oh, shit —

Then he felt your lips on his; gentle, soft, nothing like the kisses he'd had with girls before. Your cheek— god, your skin was so soft, his fingers so calloused, he really shouldn't be here right now, not when you were way out of his league. Extremely, you were the President, and he was your bodyguard, and—

Ok, your lips tasted like coffee. His brain could shut down now.

It was soft, and you let out a small gasp as you held him tighter and closer, tighter and closer. That little gasp was like music to his ears, that quiet sound was what he wanted to hear — he couldn't resist, he could feel the warmth from you, from your soft lips against his. It felt too good, like some sort of forbidden fruit. He just couldn't stop tasting it.

It's just a gentle kiss, slow kiss and his tongue was staying in his mouth for the time being, but his nose just slightly bumped against yours. There was a quiet groan that escaped him, that just felt too good.

Your lips pressed soft and slow againsthis, small stamps on him that told him he was yours- he couldn't be anyone else's now, he just couldn't, not when he had a hit of you, when he was crazy for you and he'd continue to be for the rest of his life, damn it. And each one got more feather light, less of a claim and more of a brush, but it still sent his neurons firing and his every muscle shivering underneath your gentle touch on his bare chest, amulet hanging on his collarbones.

"Ma'am..." Dean began when he finallyopened his eyes to meet yours— how the fuck does an ex-hitman go from the Supermax to this? Well, if this what it's like, he'd never complain again. He'd never want to leave anyway, as if he could resist your gorgeous ass. Your thumb rubbed his chin, looking so pretty with your cheeks flushed and lips all kiss-swollen, you were like his own angel. From the moment you'd ordered his shackles to be taken off him, you were his guardian angel.

"Shh," The sound came so gentle from your lips, we'll talk about it soon, I promise, we— we just both need to get some sleep."

You both laughed at the notion, grinning ike idiots, or like two teenagers after realising that they liked each other wher everyone implied they did. Idiots in a nutshell.

"Yeah, gotta hit the hay." Dean grinned, the backs of his fingers brushing the apple of your cheek before he cupped it his palm warm against your cheek. You couldn't help it; your eyes fluttered slightly, though you still let the smile play vaguely on your lips. He leaned forward, his hand cradling the back of your head as his own lips met your forehead preathing in, letting the kiss linger before he pulled away. "G'night, sweetheart. l've got you, aight?"

You couldn't help the broad smile butterflies, and even though you felt like you were in a Wattpad story, you'd take it all a thousand times over. "You've got me?"

'Course." He smiled, holding your head up high with his thumb and index holding your chin, pretty green eyes soft. "Gotta protect my angel." My angel.

His angel.

Even as he put on his shirt and left, you couldn't help how you fell back onto your bed, covered your face with your hands and squealed with giggles, because you'd kissed him, and it felt like fire and ice and electricity and warmth and heaven, shit.

Steph and Bella were right.

Frank Russo paced the length of his luxurious office, his polished Italian leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the framed cityscape visible through the wide windows. The skyline of New York stretched out before him like his own personal empire, but it offered no solace today. The news had come in just moments ago, and it was nothing short of infuriating.

He spun around sharply, his cold, steely eyes locking onto his assistant, Lou, who stood by the door. Lou was a wiry man in his late forties, his once-black hair now streaked with gray. Though usually calm and composed, even Lou seemed unsettled under Frank’s intense scrutiny.

“You’re telling me not one of them could get the job done?” Frank hissed, his voice low and menacing.

Lou hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his words carefully. “It’s not for lack of trying, boss. Winchester… he’s not like the others. He knows every move before it’s made.”

“Of course he does!” Frank bellowed, slamming a fist against the heavy oak desk in the center of the room. Papers scattered, and a glass of whiskey wobbled precariously before settling. “He’s one of us—or he was until he decided to play hero. That’s why I chose him in the first place. But now…” He trailed off, his lip curling in disgust. “Now he’s a liability.”

Lou nodded slowly, his hands clasped in front of him. “Dean knows the playbook inside and out. The hitmen… they don’t stand a chance. They’re predictable to him.”

Frank ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, letting out a slow, sharp exhale. His frustration was palpable, the room practically vibrating with his anger. He couldn’t afford another failure. The President had to be eliminated—her reforms, her policies, everything she stood for was a direct threat to the empire he’d spent decades building. And as long as Dean Winchester was standing in the way, it was impossible to get close to her.

“What do you suggest, Lou?” Frank asked finally, his voice eerily calm. “You’re supposed to be my problem solver. So solve the problem.”

Lou’s eyes flicked to the desk, avoiding Frank’s piercing gaze. “We need someone different,” he said cautiously. “Someone who isn’t just another gun-for-hire. Someone who can outthink Dean.”

Frank snorted, a humorless sound. “You’re saying I need a ghost to take out a ghost.”

Lou gave a small shrug. “Something like that. Dean’s good—better than good. But there’s always someone better.”

Frank stared at him for a long moment, the weight of the silence pressing down on them both. Then, finally, he nodded. “Fine. Find this ‘someone better.’ I don’t care what it costs, who they are, or what they want. Just find them and get them here. And make sure they understand the stakes.”

Lou straightened, clearly relieved to have a task to focus on. “Understood, boss. I’ll start making calls right away.”

Frank waved a dismissive hand. “Go. Now.”

Lou turned and exited the room quickly, leaving Frank alone with his simmering rage. He walked over to the window, staring out at the city once more. It wasn’t just about the President anymore; this had become personal. Dean Winchester, the man he’d once trusted as one of his own, had turned against him. He’d become a traitor to the very world that had shaped him.

Frank clenched his teeth, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t a man who tolerated betrayal, and Dean’s defection was the ultimate insult. It wasn’t enough to kill the President—Dean had to pay, too. The man needed to know what it meant to cross Frank Russo.

Meanwhile, Lou sat in his dimly lit office, a phone pressed to his ear. His fingers drummed against the desk as he listened to the static-laced voice on the other end of the line.

“This job… it’s not just anyone who can pull it off,” Lou said, keeping his voice low. “We’re talking about taking out the President of the United States. The target is surrounded by the best security detail money can’t even buy. And then there’s Winchester.”

The voice on the other end responded, though the words were inaudible to anyone but Lou. He nodded along, his expression serious.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Exactly. That’s why we need someone who can outmaneuver him. Someone who can think like him, but isn’t bound by the same rules.”

Another pause as the voice continued. Lou’s lips curved into a small, grim smile.

“I knew you’d say that,” he murmured. “All right, I’ll make the arrangements. But remember, this isn’t just about the money. You pull this off, and you’ll have the gratitude of the most powerful man in New York. That’s worth more than any paycheck.”

He hung up the phone, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. The person he’d contacted was an enigma, a shadow in the criminal underworld. Their reputation was unparalleled, their methods ruthless and efficient. If anyone could get past Dean Winchester, it was them.

Lou stood, smoothing his tie as he prepared to deliver the news to Frank. He felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. The wheels were in motion now, and there was no turning back. If this plan failed, it wouldn’t just mean trouble for Frank—it would mean the end for all of them.

As Lou re-entered Frank’s office, he found his boss standing by the window, the city lights casting an eerie glow across his face. Frank turned, his eyes narrowing expectantly.

“Well?” he demanded.

Lou nodded. “I’ve got someone. They’re on their way. If anyone can get past Winchester, it’s them.”

Frank’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Good. Make sure they understand that failure is not an option.”

Lou hesitated for a moment before replying. “They understand. But there’s one thing, boss. This person… they don’t play by the usual rules. If we bring them in, there’s no controlling what happens next.”

Frank’s smile only widened. “I don’t care about the rules, Lou. I care about results. Now get out of here and make sure everything’s ready.”

Lou nodded and left the room, leaving Frank alone once again. He returned to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully. The game was changing, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to win.

Dean Winchester had made his move. Now it was Frank’s turn. And this time, he wouldn’t miss.

The motorcade glided through the bustling streets, the presidential limousine flanked by sleek black SUVs, their tinted windows concealing the elite security detail within. Outside, the city hummed with its usual rhythm, but inside the vehicle, the air was thick with anticipation. You smoothed your blouse, a hint of nervous energy crackling through you. Today wasn’t just another meeting; it was a calculated move toward a greater goal—uniting efforts with someone who once stood as your rival.

Amara Shurley.

The very name carried a weight of respect and a tinge of nostalgia. She had been your fiercest competitor during the presidential race, her campaign marked by poise, intelligence, and a quiet determination that had made her a formidable opponent. Yet, through the fiery debates and the clash of ideals, there had always been an unspoken camaraderie.

You were both women striving for a better future in a world that wasn’t always kind to ambition.

As the limousine pulled up to the understated entrance of Amara’s private office, you glanced out the window. The building was sleek and modern, its glass façade reflecting the afternoon sun. Dean Winchester, as always, was a shadow at your side, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter before opening the door for you.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. It was more an order than a suggestion, but you nodded, stepping out into the crisp autumn air.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the entrance, flanked by members of your security detail. Dean remained a step behind, his presence a constant reassurance. The receptionist, a young woman with a polished smile, greeted you warmly before leading you to the elevator.

The ride up was silent, save for the hum of the machinery. When the doors opened, Amara was there, waiting.

“Madam President,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she extended her hand.

“Amara,” you replied with a smile, shaking her hand firmly. “You can drop the formalities. This is just a friendly meeting.”

Her lips quirked up into a knowing grin. “Friendly? That’s not the vibe I got during the debates.”

You laughed, shaking your head as she led you into her office. It was a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The décor was minimalist but sophisticated—dark wood furniture, a few tasteful art pieces, and a large desk that dominated the space.

Dean and the security detail lingered by the door as Amara gestured for you to sit on the plush couch. She poured two glasses of sparkling water, handing you one before sitting across from you.

“So,” she began, crossing her legs elegantly. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a sip of water, gathering your thoughts. “I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help.”

Her brows arched in mild surprise. “With what?”

“With credibility,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “I have a lot of ideas—big ideas—about what I want to achieve during my term. But I also know that change can’t happen without collaboration and input from people who understand the nuances of policy-making.”

Amara nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve never been one to shy away from ambition. What kind of changes are we talking about?”

You launched into your vision, laying out your plans with the same passion that had driven your campaign. Legalizing abortion nationwide, reforming healthcare to include more accessible mental health services, implementing renewable energy initiatives to combat climate change—it was all there. As you spoke, Amara listened intently, her sharp mind clearly dissecting every point.

“I want to make sure these legislations aren’t just bold ideas but practical, impactful, and sustainable,” you concluded. “And I believe you’re the person who can help me achieve that.”

Amara was silent for a moment, her fingers lightly tapping against the armrest. “You’re asking me to cross the aisle and work with you.”

“I’m asking you to do what’s right,” you corrected gently. “You’ve always been about progress, Amara. This isn’t about politics—it’s about people.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to agree. But then she smiled—a genuine, warm smile that softened her features.

“All right,” she said. “I’m in.”

Relief washed over you, and you returned her smile. “Thank you. Truly.”

Amara shrugged, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. I might tear some of your ideas apart.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation shifted to specifics, and the next hour flew by in a flurry of discussion and debate. Amara challenged you on several points, offering insights and suggestions that made your proposals stronger. It was invigorating—a reminder of why you respected her so much.

Dean remained by the door, his gaze occasionally flicking to you as you spoke with animated passion. You caught his eye once, and he gave you a small nod, his expression unreadable but approving. It was a brief moment, but it steadied you.

As the meeting wound down, Amara leaned back against the couch, a satisfied look on her face. “You’ve got some solid ideas, Madam President. I think we can make this work.”

“We will,” you said with confidence. “Together.”

She extended her hand again, and you shook it firmly, sealing the partnership.

As you stood to leave, Amara walked you to the door, pausing to glance at Dean. “You’ve got quite the guardian angel there,” she remarked, her tone light but perceptive.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. You smiled, glancing at him. “He’s the best.”

Amara nodded, her gaze lingering on Dean for a moment before turning back to you. “Good luck, Madam President. You’re going to need it.”

You laughed softly, stepping into the hallway with Dean at your side. The motorcade was waiting downstairs, but as you walked, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Amara’s agreement was a victory—not just for you, but for the people you served.

And as you glanced at Dean, his steady presence a constant in the whirlwind of your life, you felt a quiet reassurance. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you weren’t facing them alone.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait—” Steph’s voice pitched to an impressive decibel as her eyes widened, practically sparkling with excitement. Bella, sitting cross-legged on the couch, let out an ear-piercing squeal that had you cringing and glancing at the closed door to make sure no one outside could hear. “You what?” Steph exclaimed again, gripping your arm with both hands.

“I kissed him,” you muttered, already regretting telling them anything.

Bella bounced in place, her red curls bouncing with her. “Oh my God!” she squealed. “You kissed Dean? Dean Winchester? The human embodiment of danger and hotness? This is like—this is straight out of a fanfiction!”

You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal,” Steph said, leaning forward, her voice laced with dramatic emphasis. “The hottest bodyguard in the history of the great States, sworn to protect the President, and now— kissed by her? Girl, this is Wattpad-level gold.”

Bella nodded fervently, her grin stretching ear to ear. “Okay, okay, but details. We need details,” she demanded. “Where were you? What was the mood? Was it passionate? Was it—”

“Steamy?” Steph interjected, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, slumping back against the armchair as you covered your face with your hands again. “It wasn’t like that,” you mumbled through your fingers.

Bella and Steph both froze mid-gush, exchanging quick glances. “Wait,” Bella said slowly, lowering her voice as though the room had grown ominously serious. “Are you telling me… it wasn’t steamy?”

Steph’s mouth fell open, a hand pressed to her chest in mock outrage. “No. Way. What do you mean it wasn’t steamy? He’s Dean Winchester! Tall, broad-shouldered, killer jawline, the whole sexy-mercenary-in-a-suit package! How was it not steamy?”

You peeked through your fingers, feeling mortified but also exasperated. “It just wasn’t, okay? It was—” You struggled to find the right words, your mind flashing back to the moment. The electricity, the hesitation, the heat that had simmered under the surface without ever truly boiling over. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Bella repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief. She leaned back, throwing her hands up. “Nice is the word you’re going with?”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t something out of a Harlequin romance!” you snapped, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment. “It was when I was bandaging him up. It just… happened.”

Steph squinted at you suspiciously. “Was there tongue?”

“No!”

“No tongue?!” Bella threw her head back dramatically, clutching at her chest. “Oh, what a waste of prime romantic real estate!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be some grand, sweeping kiss,” you argued, though you could feel the tension creeping into your tone. “It just… it felt right in the moment, okay? That’s all.”

Steph shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You’re telling me you’ve got the lead in what could be the most epic slow-burn romance of all time, and you settle for a ‘nice’ kiss?”

Bella sighed dramatically, leaning over to pat your arm. “Honey, you’re the President of the United States. You’re supposed to be setting standards.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small laugh escaped despite yourself. “I can’t believe I told you two anything.”

“Oh, please,” Steph said, grinning. “You would’ve combusted if you didn’t. You’ve been looking way too pleased with yourself all morning.”

Bella nodded sagely. “We had to pry it out of you, but it was worth it. Even if the kiss itself was, let’s face it, a little underwhelming.”

“Underwhelming?” you repeated, incredulous. “You weren’t even there!”

“Which is exactly why we’re relying on you to live vicariously through,” Bella said, giving you a pointed look. “And what do we get? A middle-school hallway kiss. I mean, come on.”

You groaned again, though this time you were laughing despite yourself. “You two are impossible.”

Steph grinned. “You love us.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, though your smile gave you away.

The teasing continued for another few minutes, with Bella and Steph tossing out increasingly ridiculous suggestions for how you could “improve” your next kiss with Dean. By the time you finally escaped to your office under the guise of needing to review your afternoon schedule, you felt both exasperated and oddly lighter. They may have been impossible, but they were your impossible—always ready to tease, push, and support you in equal measure.

As you closed your office door and leaned back against it, the memory of the kiss resurfaced, unbidden but not unwelcome. It might not have been the steamy, earth-shattering moment Bella and Steph had been hoping for, but it had been… something. A spark. A promise.

And deep down, you knew you wanted more.

The phone rang just as you were settling back at your desk, still smiling faintly from the ridiculousness of Bella and Steph’s earlier antics. You reached for it, expecting it to be Becky with an update on your schedule or perhaps an international call you’d been waiting on. But the name flashing across the screen made you pause.

Ryan.

Your older brother never called during the day unless something was important—or, more likely, because Bella or Steph had stirred up some sort of nonsense. You sighed, bracing yourself, and hit the green button.

“Hey, Ryan,” you said casually, leaning back in your chair. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeated, his voice laced with a suspicious drawl that immediately made your stomach sink. “You tell me, Madam President. Or should I say, kissing champion of the White House?”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and then you groaned loudly, pressing your free hand to your forehead. “Oh, for the love of—how do you even know about that?”

“Bella,” he said simply, the word landing like a punchline. “She called me, giddy, might I add, and filled me in on all the juicy details. Well, what little details there were. Seems like you’re not one to kiss and tell, huh?”

You closed your eyes, wishing you could teleport through the phone to strangle your sister-in-law. “Bella has a very loose interpretation of the word ‘juicy.’”

Ryan laughed, and you could practically hear his grin through the phone. “So, it’s true then?”

“Do I even have the option of denying it at this point?”

“Not really,” he admitted cheerfully. “But you should probably know she gave me a full rundown. Apparently, you and this Dean guy have some kind of slow-burn tension, and she’s ‘living for it.’ Her words, not mine.”

You sighed, slumping forward against your desk. “I’m going to kill her.”

��She’ll probably make it worth your while by live-streaming her death on Instagram,” he said, clearly amused. “But more importantly—do I need to grill this guy? Or beat him up?”

You snorted despite yourself. “First of all, I’m the President of the United States. You can’t just go around beating up my bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t,” Ryan said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re my little sister. I don’t care if he’s a decorated Secret Service agent or a Marine—if he’s messing with you, I’ll set him straight.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the protective note in his voice. Ryan had always been like this—teasing and sarcastic most of the time, but fiercely loyal when it came to family. “Relax,” you said. “Dean’s not messing with me. He’s… fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Ryan said, dragging the word out in a way that made you roll your eyes. “That’s not exactly reassuring. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s smart, he’s loyal, and he saved my life—more than once. I trust him completely.”

“Uh-huh.” Ryan’s voice was skeptical. “And what about the kissing part? That part seems a little outside his job description.”

Your cheeks heated at the memory of Dean’s lips on yours, the brief but intense moment of connection that had left you reeling. “It was… it just happened,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t planning it, and neither was he. It just… felt right.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear Ryan processing your words. Finally, he sighed. “You sound serious about this guy.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you admitted, the weight of your feelings suddenly pressing down on you. “It’s complicated, Ryan. I’m the President, and he’s my bodyguard. This kind of thing isn’t exactly… simple.”

“Well, you’ve never done anything the simple way,” Ryan said, his voice softening. “Look, I don’t know this Dean guy, but if he’s good to you—and I mean really good to you—then I’m not gonna stand in your way. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you said, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Ryan.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone brightening. “But seriously, if he steps out of line, let me know. I’ll fly down there and take care of it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now, go do some presidential stuff or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” you said, hanging up the phone with a shake of your head.

As you set the phone down, you found yourself thinking about what Ryan had said. You didn’t know exactly what was happening between you and Dean, but one thing was clear: it wasn’t going away anytime soon. And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t such a bad thing.

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©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[xcziel]

hadn't seen this on here yet

South Korea Is Fighting for Democracy Again—And the World Needs to Know

by Heesoo Jang

Assistant Professor of Media Law and Ethics, Journalism Department, University of Massachusetts Amherst 

South Korea is once again at a critical juncture in its democratic history. More than a hundred thousand protesters, joined by over 4,000 professors and 1,466 Catholic priests announcing their declarations of the state of affairs, are calling for President Yoon Suk Yeol’s resignation. This echoes the massive movement that led to the impeachment of President Park Geun-hye in 2017 for corruption and abuse of power, showcasing South Koreans’ enduring commitment to holding leaders accountable.

What’s unfolding in South Korea is not just a domestic issue—it’s a reminder that democracies everywhere require constant vigilance. Yet, international media, like the BBC and AP News, have largely missed the bigger picture, focusing on soundbites and foreign policy instead of the underlying democratic struggles. This oversight leaves out important context for the global audience to understand the deeper context of widespread domestic dissatisfaction of the state of democracy in South Korea.

At the heart of the protests are allegations of corruption and abuse of power. President Yoon has exercised his veto power 25 times since 2023, blocking investigations into allegations against his wife, including claims of stock manipulation in Deutsch Motors. This is the most frequent use of veto power South Korea has seen since South Korea’s first president, Syngman Rhee, who faced impeachment in 1952 and eventually resigned in 1960 amid widespread public outrage over his authoritarian rule and attempts to consolidate power. 

These vetoes, alongside scandals like the “Myung Tae-Kyun Gate,” have eroded public trust in the administration. The gate alleges that political broker Myung Tae-Kyun, a close ally of Yoon and First Lady Kim Keon Hee, manipulated public opinion during the 2022 presidential election. Through his Future Korea Research Institute, Myung reportedly conducted biased polls favoring Yoon to influence election narratives. A leaked phone recording released by the opposition Democratic Party has further implicated Yoon in discussions about candidate nominations, fueling allegations of election interference.

Beyond these vetoes, Yoon’s administration has faced widespread criticism for systemic failures in governance, public safety, and economic management. The Itaewon tragedy, where 159 people lost their lives during a crowd crush, starkly exposed grave inadequacies in public safety protocols and emergency response systems. A special investigation on this tragedy was also a bill the President has vetoed. Similarly, the death of Private Chae during military service revealed systemic abuses and negligence within the military. Instead of enabling accountability, President Yoon has repeatedly vetoed special prosecutor bills aimed at investigating these military abuses. Public frustration has only grown as investigations into these tragedies have failed to hold senior officials accountable. Meanwhile, Yoon’s administration has also faced allegations of undermining press freedom by targeting journalists and media outlets critical of the government. 

Adding to these failures is a healthcare system on the brink of collapse, where prolonged medical staff shortages, exacerbated by budget cuts, have caused long-term disruptions in patient care. Instead of addressing these structural issues, the government has opted for a hasty increase in medical school quotas—a move experts warn will only further destabilize the system. Yoon’s economic policies have similarly drawn heavy criticism for favoring the wealthy with tax cuts while reducing public welfare budgets, deepening inequality between South Korea’s elites and its struggling middle and working classes. Rising household debt and record-breaking small business closures have fueled calls for reform, yet the administration’s inaction has only alienated the public further. Compounding these grievances, a 15% cut to South Korea’s research and development (R&D) budget has alarmed academics and scientists, who warn that this decision jeopardizes the nation’s innovation-driven economy and long-term global competitiveness—a concern echoed by prominent universities like Yonsei and Ewha Womans University, which cite these cuts as emblematic of broader governance failures.

Despite the scale of unrest, international media have failed to convey the full significance of this crisis. Instead of contextualizing public discontent and the erosion of democratic norms, they have focused on peripheral issues, ignoring the protests’ broader implications for democracy. This has also allowed misinformation to muddy the narrative internationally, preventing the international public from gaining important contextual information about what’s happening in South Korea. For example, posts on Chinese social media have falsely portrayed the protests as anti-war rallies rather than demands for accountability and reform. 

South Korea’s struggle is a powerful reminder that democracy is not self-sustaining—it requires active vigilance. The protests and demands for reform exemplify how civil society can confront governance failures. The world deserves more context and a nuanced understanding from international journalism about what South Korean democracy is facing, as its fight for justice, transparency, and the rule of law holds lessons for all democracies.

[renthony]

Just curious. How bad has Biden been at controlling COVID-19 in your view?

First: I already responded to a similar question you left on this post.

Second: Biden has been atrocious for COVID-19 safety and management. COVID-19 is still killing people, and our president has done a horribly insufficient job in mitigating that. "Better than the Republicans" is not the same thing as "good" or "effective." Biden's abysmal reaction to COVID-19 is part of why I'm so thrilled that the Uncommitted campaign for the Democratic primary has achieved some success. That particular campaign is focused on ceasefire in Palestine, but the People's CDC explained in a statement how Palestine is also very much a public health issue. We need to scare the bastard and actually do some of that "pushing him left" that people claimed they'd do after getting him elected. Though it seems to me like a lot of people just settled for, "okay, we got rid of Trump, we don't have to worry anymore."

Third: While I'm at it, people have to do more than vote. You have got to get involved. You have got to do more than participate in the presidential election once every four years. Join a union (may I recommend the IWW?), follow the guidance of The People's CDC, volunteer for your local Food Not Bombs, get involved in a tenants union like the Autonomous Tenants Union Network, read Riot Medicine, get trained in first aid and get involved in a street medic group, read up on your local politics and get involved on the small-scale, do something in addition to voting in the presidential election. Even if you're limited in how much you can personally participate, find the people who are talking about these issues and signal boost them, and share the information with others who may be more able to participate more. If you can tell people to go vote in the presidential election, you can also tell them to go do other things, too.

Now, with all of that out of the way, here are some links related to Biden's abysmal COVID-19 response:

During his 2020 campaign, Biden promised immediate $2K stimulus checks. Instead, he delivered $1,400. Sources: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Velena Jones for NBC Bay Area: "‘Too expensive': Bay Area residents shocked over new COVID vaccine prices"

Reuters: "COVID vaccine manufacturers set list price between $120-$130 per dose"

Joseph Choi for The Hill: "Free COVID-19 test program to be suspended for now"

Disability activist Alice Wong writing for TeenVogue: "Covid Isn't Going Anywhere. Masking Up Could Save My Life," and the follow-up article, "COVID and the 2024 Election: What Biden and Democrats Owe High-Risk People."

Laura Weiss writing for The New Republic: "Democrats Can't Keep Ignoring Covid in 2024."

David Cohen and Adam Cancryn for Politico: "Biden on '60 Minutes': 'The Pandemic is Over.'"

Alex Skopic for Current Affairs: "COVID-19 is Still a Threat. So is Biden’s CDC."

Adam Cancryn for Politico: "Biden Appears to be Over Covid Protocols."

Paul Thornton for the Los Angeles Times: "Covid Still Rages, and the Biden Administration Isn't Helping."

Eric J. Topol for the Los Angeles Times: "The U.S. is facing the biggest COVID wave since Omicron. Why are we still playing make-believe?"

We should have free, universal testing. We should have free, universal vaccination. We should have free, universal treatment. We should have financial assistance for those of us who can't work outside the home. We should have mandated work-from-home for any job that can be done remotely. We should be emptying prisons and paying attention to the way disease and abuse proliferate inside their walls. We should have COVID-19 safety PSAs and government support for universal masking. We should have free distribution of N95s. We should have mandated masking in medical settings and public spaces. We should have a higher minimum wage. We should have healthcare reforms. We should have strong worker protections. We should have improved infrastructure. We should have a president who gives a single flying fuck about how many of us are dying.

And we have none of it.

But we sure seem to have money to keep dropping bombs, arming cops, terrorizing the vulnerable, and imprisoning innocent people to use for slave labor.

[whencyclopedia]

US Presidential Election of 1796

The US presidential election of 1796 was the first contested presidential election in the history of the United States. John Adams, the candidate of the Federalist Party, won the presidency, defeating his rival, Thomas Jefferson, candidate of the Democratic-Republican Party. Since Jefferson won the second most votes, he became Vice President, as was the protocol at the time.

In the previous two national elections – the US presidential election of 1789 and 1792 – George Washington had been unanimously voted into office, and the presidency had never seriously been contested. Now, with Washington declining to serve a third term, each political party scrambled to secure support for its candidate. Adams, as the incumbent vice president, was widely viewed as Washington's natural successor, but his association with the haughty, nationalist Federalists led to accusations that he was a pro-British monarchist. Jefferson, likewise, was attacked for his party's support of the bloody French Revolution, and his hypocritical opinions on slavery were brought into question. The use of partisan newspapers to attack the candidates became prevalent in this election, reflecting the increase of factionalism in US politics.

At the time, presidential elections were conducted very differently than they are today. Candidates did not run on a shared ticket; instead, each member of the Electoral College cast two votes for whichever candidates they pleased. The candidate who got the most votes was elected president, while the candidate with the second most votes became vice president, regardless of political party. It was for this reason that Adams ended up winning the presidency with Jefferson as his vice president, even though they had been rivals in the election. The partisanship that fueled this election would only worsen four years later, when Adams and Jefferson rematched in the US presidential election of 1800.

Background: Washington's Farewell Address

It was less than two months before the election, on 19 September 1796, when President Washington's famous Farewell Address appeared in the Philadelphia newspaper American Daily Advisor, confirming that he would not seek a third term in office. In the address, Washington revealed that he had initially planned on retiring after his first four years in office but had decided to serve a second term because of heightening tensions with Great Britain. Now, with that crisis averted, Washington saw no reason to stick around and was happy to hand the torch off to a successor. He then went on to emphasize the importance of the Union, which bound all Americans together and protected their liberties, before warning against three existential dangers that threatened to destroy that Union: regionalism, partisanship, and foreign entanglements. On the issue of political partisanship – or 'factionalism' as it was then known – Washington warned that it would lead to a 'spirit of revenge' and would open the door to 'foreign influence and corruption'. He went on to say:

serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of the party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community…they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which the cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterward the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.

(constitutioncenter.org)

George Washington

Gilbert Stuart (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[creature-wizard]

I saw a post claiming that Zionists just want you to believe third-party presidential voting doesn't work, and uh. Not only is that not true, and not only are third party candidates like RFK Jr. and Jill Stein not what most people think they are, but if you're out here claiming that something like this is just what the Zionists want you to think, you're about two steps away from believing that The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion is evidence of a real plot.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Jesse Duquette

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 16, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Sep 17, 2024

In the week since Trump’s disastrous debate with Vice President Kamala Harris, MAGA Republicans appear to be melting down. As Republicans commandeer the disaster news, the Democratic presidential nominee appears to be trying to stay out of their way. Harris sat for an interview with media host Stephanie Himonidis Sedano, known as “Chiquibaby,” of the Spanish-language U.S. audio Nueva Network, an interview that will air tomorrow on more than 100 radio stations.  

For the third day in a row, officials today had to evacuate two elementary schools in Springfield, Ohio, citing threats that have led to safety concerns. The city has also canceled “CultureFest,” its annual celebration of diversity, arts, and culture, and the local colleges are meeting virtually out of safety concerns. The Bureau of Motor Vehicles has had to close, as has the Ohio License Bureau.

Ohio’s Republican governor, Mike DeWine, said that there have been “at least 33” bomb threats against schools and public offices after Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump and his running mate, Ohio senator J.D. Vance, spread the lie that Haitian immigrants to Springfield have been eating the pets of their white neighbors. DeWine reiterated that the immigrants in Springfield are there legally, and noted that he has authorized troopers from the Ohio State Highway Patrol to provide additional security at the district's 18 school buildings. 

On CNN yesterday morning, Vance admitted to Dana Bash that he had created the story of Haitian immigrants eating pets. He justified the lie that has shut down Springfield and endangered its residents by claiming such a lie was the only way to get the media to pay attention to what he considers the crisis of immigration. Once the pet-eating story was debunked, Vance said that Haitian immigrants are spreading HIV and tuberculosis in Ohio; in fact, new diagnoses of HIV dropped from 2018 to 2022, and the director of the Ohio Department of Health says there has been no change in TB rates.  

That a politician of any sort would lie to rally supporters against a marginalized population comes straight out of the authoritarian playbook, which seeks to build a community around the idea that the people in it are besieged by outsiders. But when that politician is running for vice president, with the potential to become the president if anything happens to his 78-year-old running mate, who is the oldest person ever to run for president, it raises a whole factory of red flags.  

Michael Hiltzik of the Los Angeles Times noted the support of racist ideologue Alfred Rosenberg of the Nazi Party for the antisemitic text “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion,” a text fabricated in the early twentieth century by officials in czarist Russia. Rosenberg stood by the “inner truth” of the text even though it was fake. Like Rosenberg, Hitler’s chief propagandist Joseph Goebbels wrote, “I believe in the inner, but not the factual, truth of The Protocols.” While Democratic Ohio representative Casey Weinstein has called for Vance to resign, aside from DeWine, Republican lawmakers have not repudiated Vance’s lie. 

Astonishingly, Vance is trying to rise to power on lies about the people of his own state, the people he is supposed to represent. Not only have Democratic politicians demanded that he stop, but also amidst the chaos, the Republican mayor of Springfield and two Republican county commissioners would not commit to voting for Trump. The popular backlash against this lie has also been swift and strong. The Ohio-based Red, Wine, and Blue organization has organized the #OHNoYouDont campaign to reiterate on social media their stance against the division Vance and Trump are stoking. 

Trump seemed to try to regain control of the political narrative on Sunday by posting on social media, “I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT,” a comment that looked like an attempt to change the subject from the backlash to the pet-eating lie, the continuing disparagement of Trump’s debate performance, and increasing attention to Trump’s attachment to right-wing provocateur and conspiracy theorist Laura Loomer.     

In the days since Trump took Loomer to a commemoration of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001—which she has suggested were an “inside job”—the media has paid more attention to the 31-year-old extremist who has been Trump’s close companion since Spring 2023. Loomer has cheered the drowning of 2,000 migrants and called for “2,000 more.” In June she said that Democrats should not just be prosecuted and jailed, but “they should get the death penalty. You know, we actually used to have the punishment for treason in this country.” 

When some commenters suggested her relationship with Trump was sexual, she countered with a truly vile statement about Vice President Kamala Harris. The increasing visibility of Loomer near Trump has made those Republicans trying to run a more traditional campaign beg him to cut her loose, but Trump seems reluctant to distance himself from her. Sam Stein of The Bulwark today wrote that those Republicans worried about Trump being surrounded by conspiracy theorists are a decade late. After listing Trump’s many years of conspiracy theories, Stein wrote, they’re not “worried that Loomer will turn Trump into a raving lunatic. They’re simply worried that Trump might lose.” 

As Trump seems increasingly detached from reality, Vance has become the face of the Republican presidential campaign. He seems desperate to turn the media cycle from Trump and the extraordinary unpopularity of the plans outlined in Project 2025 and toward immigration. It’s a hard sell, since voters correctly note that it was Republicans, egged on by Trump, who killed the strong bipartisan border bill in the spring. On Thursday, September 12, Vance said on CNBC that if immigration were the path to prosperity, “America would be the most prosperous country in the world.” 

Outside of the hellscape in MAGA Republicans’ mind, it is. The Federal Reserve recently noted that as of the second quarter of 2024, U.S. household net worth is growing by a strong 7.1% a year. The stock market is also strong, with the Dow Jones Industrial Average rising 228 points today to set an all-time high. 

On Sunday afternoon, shortly after Trump’s Taylor Swift post and another calling the “failing” New York Times a threat to democracy, as Trump was golfing at his club in West Palm Beach, Florida, Secret Service agents noticed and fired on a man holding a rifle with a scope. Today, Carol Leonnig, Josh Dawsey, and Isaac Stanley-Becker of the Washington Post reported that authorities have warned Trump of the risks of golfing at his own courses because of their proximity to public roads, but Trump insisted they were safe and kept using them.

The acting director of the Secret Service, Ronald Rowe Jr., said today that Trump’s plan for golfing on Sunday was unscheduled, so the secret service used an emergency plan for protecting Trump. Rowe said the suspect, Ryan Wesley Routh, a convicted felon with a history of apparent mental illness, did not have a line of sight to the former president and did not shoot. He escaped and was later caught. Cell phone records suggest he was in the vicinity for 12 hours before being flushed out of the bushes. 

Democratic leaders again denounced violence and said it has no place in our country. Observers noted that it was Trump who signed a bill revoking gun-checks for people with mental illnesses put in place by President Barack Obama and that he promised the National Rifle Association (NRA) that he would roll back all the gun safety provisions President Joe Biden has put in place if he wins in 2024. But the Trump campaign called for donations on a website suggesting, as MAGA Republicans did after the shooting in Butler, Pennsylvania, that Democrats were complicit in the threat to Trump. “There are people in this world who will do whatever it takes to stop us,” Trump’s campaign said. 

Unfortunately, two attempts on a president’s life in such short order are not unprecedented. As Tom Nichols pointed out today in The Atlantic, Gerald Ford survived two attempts in 15 days in 1975. But, as Nichols also points out, Ford did not fundraise off the attempts or blame his opponents for them. 

Opponents are pointing out that it is Trump and the MAGA Republicans, not the Democrats, who are stoking violence. Marcy Wheeler of Emptywheel noted that in July 2023 Trump posted an address for former president Barack Obama on his social media network, prompting a stalker, and that in four different jurisdictions, Trump’s lawyers have argued that the First Amendment protects Trump’s right to attack the judges, prosecutors, and witnesses in the cases against him, as well as their families. Other’s recalled MAGA’s “jokes” about the brutal attack on then–House speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband, Paul. 

Trump supporter Elon Musk, who owns the social media platform X, wrote, “And no one is even trying to assassinate Biden/Kamala,” a post he later called a “joke” after observers asked about the national security implications of a defense contractor who has $15 billion in federal contracts suggesting the assassination of the president and vice president. Musk’s post had more than 39 million impressions before he deleted it.

After his own incendiary post, Musk wrote: “The incitement to hatred and violence against President Trump by the media and leading Democrats needs to stop.” Conservative lawyer George Conway retorted: “What utter nonsense.”  

Indeed, the MAGA attempt to tie the shootings near Trump to the Democrats is pretty clearly an attempt to stop Democrats from talking about the issues of the campaign by claiming that any public discussion of Trump’s own unpopular policies and hateful words will gin up violence against him. 

One of the biggest issues MAGA Republicans would like to stop people from talking about is abortion. Reproductive healthcare journalist Kavitha Surana explained in ProPublica today that every state has a committee of experts that meet to examine women’s deaths during or within a year of pregnancy. Those committees operate with a two-year lag, meaning that we are now learning about women dying after the Supreme Court overturned the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision that recognized the constitutional right to abortion. 

Georgia’s state committee has recently concluded that at least two women have died in Georgia from preventable causes after hospitals in the state denied them timely reproductive healthcare.

Amber Nicole Thurman died just weeks after the Georgia abortion ban went into effect. She went into sepsis from unexpelled fetal tissue after an abortion she obtained legally in North Carolina. Georgia’s law made the routine dilation and curettage procedure, or D&C, a felony with vague exceptions that make doctors worry about prosecution if they perform it. Reports show that doctors repeatedly discussed a D&C for Thurman but put it off even as her organs began to fail. By the time they performed the procedure, it was too late. 

Surana notes that Georgia governor Brian Kemp said he was “overjoyed” when the law went into effect, and that it would keep women “safe, healthy, and informed.” Attorneys for the state of Georgia accused abortion rights activists who said the law endangered women of “hyperbolic fear mongering” just two weeks before Thurman died. 

She left behind a 6-year-old son.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[darkmaga-returns]

A Georgia judge has temporarily blocked a new rule from the Georgia State Election Board (GSEB) that would require election officials to hand-count ballots cast at each polling location.

On Sept. 20, the GSEB approved the hand-counting of ballots for the upcoming election to ensure votes cast on paper match the tallies from electronic voting machines. The rule, set to take effect on Oct. 22, would require poll workers to open ballot boxes and hand-count ballots to verify the total number of votes. (Related: Georgia State Election Board approves HAND-COUNTING OF BALLOTS in 2024 presidential election.)

However, Judge Robert McBurney of the Fulton County Superior Court temporarily blocked the rule on Oct. 16, the first day of in-person early voting in the state.

"No training has been administered (let alone developed), no protocols for handling write-in ballots … have been issued and no allowances have been made in any county's election budget for additional personnel and other expenses required to implement the Hand Count Rule," McBurney wrote. "The administrative chaos that will – not may – ensue is entirely inconsistent with the obligations of our boards of elections (and the GSEB) to ensure that our elections are fair, legal and orderly."

Moreover, McBurney warned that implementing this rule at the last minute would create confusion and undermine the election process.

[deadpresidents]

I don’t know if this has been asked or discussed but do you think Trump will be at President Carter’s state funeral? Would he even be wanted? All the living presidents like Clinton, Bush, Obama and Biden I’m pretty sure will be in attendance but can they prevent Trump from attending? I’m really curious. Thanks.

I think Trump will be there. It's no secret what I think or how I feel about Donald Trump, but he's the President-elect of the United States and a former President of the United States in his own right. Quite frankly, he should be there, if for no other reason than out of respect for Jimmy Carter.

Trump was the incumbent President when former President George H.W. Bush died in 2018, and despite Bush's pretty public feelings about Trump, he reportedly wanted Trump to feel welcome at his funeral and Trump was perfectly respectful during that time period. Trump actually released a really nice statement about Carter, and I think this is just one of those things where there's no reason not to be normal and respectful. The major funeral that Trump didn't attend was John McCain's because McCain and the McCain family did not want him there. He had said some horrible things about McCain while McCain was alive, while McCain was dying, and after McCain's death, and it made sense for him to be excluded from that funeral. And, to his credit, Trump stayed away and didn't make a big issue out of it at the time, although he eventually complained about it.

But a Presidential funeral is a very unique national event. It should be a unifying event in many ways, and it has been that in the past. There was a real nasty relationship between Harry S. Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower for many years, but during President Kennedy's funeral, those two former Presidents were able to get together and patch up their differences. I think the living former Presidents have shown a willingness to include Trump when it's appropriate -- Obama and Biden both immediately hosted him in the White House after he won his elections, and that's pretty remarkable particularly in Biden's case since Trump refused to admit that he had lost to Biden in 2020, delayed certifying the transition, incited an insurrection in an attempt to overturn the election. didn't host Biden at the White House, and skipped town and didn't attend Biden's inauguration. President Biden will be delivering the eulogy for President Carter, and I'm sure Biden will be gracious towards Trump, just as he was at the White House following the election. Knowing President Biden's belief in how politics and institutions should work, I think he'd probably push for Trump to attend the funeral because it's the tradition.

I'm sure that the Carter Family could ask Trump not to attend if they wished to, and I imagine that Trump wouldn't go if they made that request. But I don't think that they are interested in doing that. I think they want to celebrate and honor President Carter, and President Carter was a man of peace who worked tirelessly, into his 90s, to bring people together. The other living Presidents have no say in the guest list for the funeral; that's something that is planned between the deceased President's family and the Military District of Washington. And the protocol would be for all living Presidents to attend and pay their respects to President Carter. President Trump should be invited, and I'm almost certain he'll be there, and I'm pretty confident everything will be fine. Again, it's not about Donald Trump or Barack Obama or Joe Biden or Bill Clinton. It's honoring the remarkable life and legacy of Jimmy Carter.

[originalleftist]

Why I Will Not Be Watching the Biden-Trump Debate:

(Reposting from Spoutible):

"I will not watch the Presidential debate. Here's why:

Trump is an insurrectionist oath-breaker. Per the 14th Amendment, Section 3, he should not even be on the ballot. That SCOTUS chose to ignore the Constitution does not erase it.

Trump used a prior debate to give pre-insurrection marching orders to the Proud Boys. He will use this one to spread more lies, hate, and incitement to violence. Giving him a huge platform is a national security risk, that will likely lead directly to loss of life.

Trump violated Covid protocols at a prior debate, endangering then-candidate Biden. He also TRIED TO STAGE A COUP. Putting an insurectionist terrorist on a stage with the President is madness, security breach and threat to the President that would be tolerated under no other circumstance.

Placing him-a terrorist traitor who has actively tried to cause the President's death-on a debate stage like a normal candidate normalizes everything he has done, and aims to do.

This is not normal. It is not right. And it should not be treated as entertainment.

I appreciate that Biden is in a difficult position, that he can't be seen as afraid to debate. But this debate should never happen. So I will be boycotting it, and any future debates featuring the convicted felon.

[healingheartdogs]

I honestly expected this outcome from the presidential election and was not at all surprised by it, given that Kamala Harris ran the worst most aggressively conservative campaign we have ever seen from a "progressive" candidate in our lives, ignored entire important voting populations of swing states because she decided they didn't matter to her, and the people determined to support her no matter what online largely became abusive and resorted to harassment about voting for her to everyone around them that had any criticisms of her at all, which was obviously going to ostracize large parts of the Dem voter base even if they weren't protesting against genocide and hurt voter turn out in her favor.

What I was NOT expecting to read today about voting results (and yet somehow am still not at all surprised given the way they've been treating homeless and mentally ill people lately) was that California voted AGAINST a minimum wage increase, voted to INCREASE the severity of charges for certain drug cases and for repeat minor theft to a felony, and voted TO KEEP SLAVERY. And the way I've seen Californians online defending it?????? "Well just don't be a criminal then, if you don't do crime then you don't have to worry about indentured servitude (SLAVERY) in prison".

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CRIMES THE AVERAGE PERSON REGULARLY COMMITS WITHOUT EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT???? IT'S NOT ZERO. Estimates range between an average of three federal crimes/violations a day (honestly an exaggeration by the Harvard author who claimed it to show just how much life in the US is technically but selectively criminalized) to a more realistic three felonies or federal crimes a month (probably more minor crimes than that though LBR) for the average American because of how much random BS has been criminalized over the course of the existence of our country as a way to target certain groups and manufacture crime and how much average people are comfortable committing crimes they are reasonably sure they can get away with (especially if they're white or wealthy). Commonly committed crimes that average people may often participate in without considering themselves criminals includes things like:

Marijuana consumption, growing, and possession, which while legal at a state level in some places (like Cali) is still technically a federal crime that could be selectively enforced against those who participate even within the laws of their state. Is it likely you'll be federally charged in a legal state? No, but it's still technically a federal crime and the feds have sometimes used it as an excuse to raid people, state-legal grow operations, and dispensaries, seize their goods and possessions, and temporarily hold people under criminal investigation. (Drug charges are the most common reason for imprisonment in the USA btw so if you don't think smoking weed deserves slavery as punishment maybe think about that)((You can also replace marijuana in this scenario with psilocybin or even other "harder" drugs that have been decriminalized in some places and that many people still secretly are willing to do while in places where they aren't decriminalized as well))

Regularly and casually committing actually seriously dangerous vehicular crimes like speeding and/or driving under the influence (being high or under the effects of certain legal meds while driving is not better than being drunk and can still catch you a charge or get someone injured or killed), especially when those two things are committed at the same time, especially if the car has passengers and especially if any of those passengers are minors, especially if you get into any kind of accident, and especially if that accident harms or kills someone else, which all increase the severity of the charges

Illegally handling, possessing, or disposing of drugs belonging to a family member or friend (or anyone, really) instead of following legal protocol to turn them over to authorities

"Tampering" with mail that is not addressed to you. Yes, including mail for people who live in your household that you have a close relationship with. Yes, knowingly opening that letter or package addressed to your adult child or significant other and NOT to you just to see what it is before you give it to them is a federal crime, but nobody considers themselves a criminal for doing it, do they?

Digital media and software piracy, and copyright infringement (very normalized crimes that tons of people knowingly commit all the time without caring because of how selectively the laws about these crimes are enforced)

Violating the service and licensing agreements of streaming services like Netflix by sharing your password with people who aren't part of your household and/or family (confirmed to be a federal crime under the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act by the US 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, just not enforced.)((The CFAA is wiiiiild BTW, if you want to read about federal law that is intentionally vague and wide reaching but that is very selectively applied that one definitely fits the bill))

Theft. It's very commonly committed both knowingly and unknowingly by tons of people in different forms, whether they admit to it or not. Ever shoplifted in your life? Even just accidentally done so by just forgetting to scan an item in your cart at self checkout and leaving with it? Lots of people have, and definitely not always unintentionally, especially as people get more desperate to obtain necessities in a failing economy with unlivable wages. Most people just don't expect to get caught, and if they do they don't expect to face serious charges for it, so it's a crime they're okay with committing while still not considering themselves criminals despite theft being the 4th most commonly convicted crime of prisoners in our prison system (categorized under burglary, larceny, and property offenses).

Being socially labeled a criminal, charged with a crime (whether you actually committed it or not, intentionally or otherwise), and imprisoned after being charged with a crime all often has a lot less to do with being guilty of committing a crime and a lot more to do with race, class, housing status, disability, and stigmatized mental illness. When slavery that the state and the corporations who lobby and bribe the state profit off of is considered to be a valid punishment for crime then that actually incentivizes the state to manufacture or make up crimes and artificially create criminals where there otherwise wouldn't be any or where nobody is actually harmed in a way to warrant something being considered a crime (i.e. "victimless crimes" like drug use, sex work, homelessness, trespassing without intent to cause harm or damage, etc). Usually these manufactured crimes and the label of criminal for being convicted (rightfully or not) of doing them are systemically intended to target the marginalized, oppressed, and "undesirable" or "unproductive" members of society. A perfect example relevant to California being that if a place criminalizes being homeless and has established slavery as a legal punishment for anyone who has been convicted of a crime, whether fairly or not (because we all know "justice" in the US is far from always fair) then you have just made homelessness and poverty -- something that is caused by lack of proper and accessible social supports, bad government policy around labor and regulation of housing and the economy, and is entirely out of the hands of people suffering from it -- into something that justifies potentially being enslaved.

Like... Oh, are you on the streets because you or a loved one that you take care of or provide for became ill, could no longer work, ended up overwhelmed by medical debt, couldn't afford to keep a place to live, and now are being told that certain supports for unhoused and underemployed people are only available if you're an addict looking for rehabilitation so you have to be currently using drugs to receive that aid? (That last part is not a made up unrealistic scenario, it is actually a very real problem that homeless people, social workers, and harm reduction aid supporters discuss all the time that legitimately prevents some people from getting help and creates addicts.) Congratulations, you are now a criminal, and if you do end up turning to drugs in order to qualify for help or even just to deal with the bleakness of your new reality as one of society's hated and abandoned you are possibly even a felon in California! That means most California voters think you should rightfully be enslaved for corporations and states to continue to profit off you as much as they still can, even though it was their own state's (and federal government's) fault that you and others like you ended up in that situation.

Because yes, in case you didn't know or haven't thought about it critically enough or been exposed to the reality of it enough to realize it, homelessness and poverty are actually government policy choices. They are issues overwhelmingly caused by a lack of policies in place to ensure affordable and accessible healthcare and disability support, regulations around accessible and affordable housing, fair livable wages for labor, reasonable limits to price gouging and inflation of costs of necessities for life, proper management and enforcement of reasonable public health precautions to protect the public from mass illness and post-viral infection related disability in widespread life threatening situations like the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic, and accessible support and aid systems for people who are already unhoused or at risk of becoming unhoused to get into and keep housing and get back to or be able to continue to work (or get on relevant benefits for their situation if they can't work)! Nobody wants to be homeless or living in poverty in a system that punishes those things with institutionalization, criminalization, abandonment, preventable but uncared about suffering, and even sometimes (also preventable) death.

See how that sort of stuff is actually extremely fucked up and designed to create and then exploit vulnerable people for profit while also creating an example out of those "bad" vulnerable people and their suffering to threaten the rest of less marginalized society with to make them fall in line with the system lest it decide to punish them by taking away their privileges and eating them too? (The exact fear-based tactic of our two party system in elections and governing that we've had to deal with in recent decades that facilitates and manufactures consent for our government's continued movement to the right into fascism, btw.) Yeah. This is why marginalized and oppressed people push back and try to tell y'all that "blue states" are still not safe places if you don't already have privilege and the ability to maintain that privilege, that Democrats are not necessarily safe for marginalized and oppressed people since they still serve the same fascist capitalist system. Two of the biggest blue states (NY and CA) have publicly known serious issues with police violence and police gangs, gross over policing of minorities, blatant law enforcement and justice system corruption, funneling of funds from other areas of government into law enforcement and the pockets of politicians, and lately pushing laws to further criminalize marginalized people for things like wearing masks in public during a pandemic to protect their health and lives or participating in legal protests against fascism, war and genocide, police violence, and worker exploitation that harms them and/or their loved ones at home and abroad or being homeless and/or visibly mentally ill.

Like I said, I'm not surprised given the way things in Cali have been lately, but I am still disappointed and pissed the fuck off about the audacity of privileged people when it comes to making political choices that they expect to never affect them either because they think they are part of a safe(r) social group or exist in a safe(r) place that will protect them, even when it doesn't protect others and sometimes goes out of its way to exploit and harm people instead.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

These might be questions for separate posts, butWhat are elections like on Gallifrey? Like, I know the president can name their successor and Time Lords vote to confirm, but can there be other candidates?

Also, are local politics a thing (like mayor or local overseer or something) or are those positions appointed? Basically, what’s the basic hierarchy of the bureaucracy?

How do politics work on Gallifrey?

Gallifreyan politics may look complicated, but that's only because it is. Take a deep breath ...

🏛️ Presidential Elections: A Gallifreyan 'Democracy'

The 'election' of a new Lord President isn't exactly democratic. Generally, the current President picks a successor, who is then confirmed by a High Council ballot. This sounds great… until you realise it's almost a done deal and that the vote is just a formality. It's more about who's best buds with the outgoing Lord President.

But wait! Article 17 of the Gallifreyan Constitution allows almost any Time Lord to declare themselves a candidate for the presidency. However, it's rare for anyone other than the hand-picked successor to win.

That said, if a Lord President resigns and no successor has been named, an election must be held within 48 hours. In this rare instance, there might actually be a race for power.

🗳️ An Expansion of Voting Rights: Once, there was a rare experiment in democracy when former President Romana allowed more Time Lords to vote. But by and large, most Gallifreyans today don't have much say in their leadership. Elections, if they even happen, are generally conducted within the Capitol—likely only involving those esteemed enough to be Time Lords.

⚖️ The Bureaucratic Behemoth

Here's where it gets fun, and very text-y. Gallifrey's bureaucracy is a tiered maze of titles, councils, and arcane traditions:

The Lord President: AKA 'Keeper of the Legacy of Omega' and 'Defender of the Laws of Time'. The President of Gallifrey has near-absolute power, at least on paper. They're entrusted with Gallifrey's deepest secrets, access to the Matrix, and, of course, the right to wear the very fashionable Sash of Rassilon. However, all this power is checked by the Inner Council (more on that later) and the Constitution, which prevents direct orders to the Chancellor without council approval.

The Chancellor: This is the President's right hand. The Chancellor runs day-to-day government affairs and represents the High Council. Think of them as a blend of Prime Minister, ambassador, and a sports referee. The Chancellor also holds the Great Key and is technically responsible for the CIA's oversight (if anyone actually manages that).

Inner Council: The Inner Council is an elite subset that includes the Lord President, the Chancellor, and the most powerful Cardinals. They meet in the Great Hall of Time to discuss important things and have the rare power to overrule the President—if they're unanimous. This is rare, but it's there for when the President, say, decides to go on an intergalactic holiday during a planetary emergency. This council rarely changes and is as exclusive as it gets.

The High Council of the Time Lords: This elite group includes both the Inner Council (the President's immediate circle) and Prime Cardinals. Known as 'The Twenty-Four,' they're the top decision-makers, dealing with everything from defence to ceremonial events. If something goes wrong, they're probably the ones who signed the forms.

Parliament: The broader College of Cardinals (known as Parliament) convenes only for grand events, like passing laws or making constitutional amendments. It's packed with Cardinals, from Prime Cardinals to Junior ones, and they're all about protocol and tradition. And yes, hierarchy matters—closer seats to the ground level mean higher status.

📜 The Influence of the Cardinals and the Chapters

Gallifreyan society is organised into six Chapters, which function as both political and economic factions. Each Chapter is governed by a Council of Cardinals, high-ranking Time Lords who hold significant sway in both Chapter and Gallifreyan politics.

Cardinals: Cardinals lead their Chapters and serve as influential voices in the Gallifreyan Parliament. Cardinals with the title of Prime represent their Chapter on the High Council, meaning decision-making often reflects the interests of each Chapter. Every major decision, therefore, becomes a tug-of-war between Chapters, with Cardinals pushing for policies that advance their Chapter's interests.

This structure means Gallifreyan politics isn't just about personal ambitions—it's also driven by inter-Chapter alliances, rivalries, and the push for dominance. And screw those who aren't in a Chapter, because they have no political voice at all.

🎩 Other Notable Figures

Auld Mortality: After their final death, the Ordinal-General becomes Auld Mortality and proceeds to quite literally haunt the current President. They have no official duties besides constantly reminding the Lord President that their time is finite.

Lord Burner: They officially don't exist, but rumours say that the Lord Burner is the President's secret assassin. Through ceremonial burn edicts, the President can order a kill discreetly. But of course, this is just hearsay.

The Castellan: Head of the Chancellery Guard, the Castellan handles security in the Capitol. Though they're answerable to the Chancellor, they have broad discretion when guarding Gallifrey from internal threats.

Gold Usher: Gallifrey's master of ceremonies, responsible for everything from Presidential Ordinations to formal court proceedings. Gold Usher ensures the pomp is adequately maintained and that no Time Lord starts a duel mid-ceremony.

🧩 Hierarchy at the Local Level (Or Lack Thereof)

Gallifrey isn't exactly decentralised. Positions like mayor or local overseer simply don't exist. All power flows downward from the Citadel, where bureaucratic roles are filled by appointment. These appointed officials take charge of specific regions or operations. Even the Chancellery Guard, Gallifrey's police force, is overseen by high-ranking Time Lords with little room for local meddling.

🏫 So ...

Gallifrey has all the trappings of an elaborate, pseudo-democratic hierarchy. Technically, there's an election, but rarely a competition. The councils and sub-councils focus more on upholding ancient traditions than making radical changes with a deep, abiding love for the status quo. Because for a society as ancient as the Time Lords, stability is the ultimate form of progress.

Related:

💬|📜👽Does Gallifrey have anyone they've had friendly interactions with?: History of historical alliances Gallifrey have made.

💬|⏰👽What does the Gallifreyan political and social environment look like?: Overview of the general structure of Gallifreyan society and politics.

💬|👤🔥Who/What is Lord Burner?: Looking at the entirely fictional role of the entirely fictional Lord Burner.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[wind-rider]

Factions of Havel:

THE RESISTANCE

-- -- --

Modern symbol of the Resistance; inspired by imagery of Cana, a rather controversial choice.

[ID: a sketchy silhouette image of the head and neck of a snarling wolf. The shape is made up of monochrome swirls, some stretching down from its eye. The shape of a broken crown overlaid upon a sun floats between its open jaws. End ID.]

— — —

Been a hot minute since I made a massive loredump post so I figured it was Time, and also I kind of went insane in @v0idspeak's dms after watching far too many character analysis videos. Ahem. Anyway-

Before I start, if any part of this makes you ask "hey wind, wtf are you talking about? Corynen? Cyrin? Protusol? What are you on and can I have some?", I direct you towards this tag, in particular the following posts: - General Overview - Protusol (+ Corynen briefly) - Cyrinism

All set? Okay, cool. Without further ado, on to the convoluted lore! My favourite!

PRE-MODERN ERA

The roots of the anti-Corynen resistance reach back further than their current leader's birth, and even before the Corynen's founding itself. Originally it was a movement against the current Havel government's participation in the Panta-Kirata war, which settled a little once Tornis came onto the scene and began making concerted efforts towards peace. His presidential campaign was heavily supported by the then-Resistance, and he came into power on an overwhelming popular vote. When he did indeed fulfill his campaign promise of peace and healing, the Resistance largely simmered down into nothing, save for a few surges here and there in the peak of scandals and rumours surrounding Protusol and its projects.

This brings us to roughly a decade before the modern day. Myrus and Santos, the famous treaty-born twins and Tornis' symbols of progress and peace, were beginning to grow disillusioned with their father's plans. This was before the ethics overhaul within Protusol, and Cyrin research subjects were still experiencing some pretty... questionable treatment. In Tornis' eyes, it was all in the name of science and common good, but his now late-teenage children saw it differently. They released a public statement about the conditions within the labs, before leaving together and going into hiding in the aftermath.

Their statement resulted in an absolute PR NIGHTMARE, as you'd expect. Unfortunately for Tornis, his future PR guy was still his barely-out-of-preteens son, who, yes, had been groomed as his successor for several years now, but wasn't quite in a position to deal with this mess quite yet. Instead, Tornis swept it under the rug within days through several deals with other young factions such as FEI, which spurred many of their current deals and partnerships. The press conferences and promises to overhaul Protusol's ethics protocols was enough to largely placate the public, but the twins were left cut off from their family and former resources and stirring with anger at their father's hasty cover-up of everything surrounding their disappearance.

Their initial partnership was a joint one; they both came upon the sputtering embers of the post-war Resistance, and set about stirring them aflame once again. However, this partnership was not meant to last. It didn't take long for a rift to appear between the duo, as they quickly found themselves with very different ideas of what shape a rebellion against the Corynen should take. They fought, first with words, then physically. Myrus easily overpowered her brother, but refused to kill him; she did not share his worldview of violence and death being the only catalyst for change, and left him to run or rot, whichever happened first.

Santos did neither. He didn't need his sister to get what he wanted. Instead, he quickly rose to become the leader of the Resistance, and a prominent figure in Havel's (and particularly the capital Misan's) criminal underbelly. Myrus, meanwhile, faded into the shadows, focusing on her own smaller-scale operations and trying to do what she saw as true good rather than Santos' view of 'the ends justify the means'.

She gained a following of her own, largely due to being a genuinely kind person at her core, despite (or perhaps because of) her willingness to fight for those under her care and general take-no-shit attitude. She truly wants the best for those around her- and in a way, so does her brother, but Santos is far more willing to inflict suffering to those he sees as less important to the cause in order to benefit the rest. He caters in particular to those who wish to feel significant, who want to make large, violent, immediate change. Myrus wants to stop her peoples' suffering- Santos wants to free them from those who have caused it, at any cost. The difference is subtle, but the ripples are massive.

Santos' initial methods essentially involve stirring up shit; great big displays of pushback and power. However, he learns quickly that being obvious about it gets you kicked back down VERY hard, and he becomes more subtle, executing plans more carefully, and from more of a distance. It's effective- but it's not what those within his organization want, creating a very politically unstable situation where Santos is forced to be constantly putting out fires while maintaining his illusion of poise and control, ironically making it much more difficult to get anything else done.

-- -- --

PRESENT DAY

However, overall, the Resistance works. They raise awareness, place Cyrin children in foster homes, and make massive strides against Cyrin trafficking and illegal metastabilizer* and biorase-derivative drug manufacturing. Well. Ahem. Rather, they take control of the manufacturing themselves for a massive profit and greater control of the island and underground, but shh, we don't talk about that one. They're doing good! They're helping! And if it means a little questionable things here and there, well, that's just the price of attaining their final benevolent goals! Right?

*metastabilizers: specialized drugs intended for stabilizing Cyrin metamorphosis, developed by the Corynen and vital in their treatment of such. Often illegally used in conjunction with equally illegal biorase-derived drugs to lessen their lethality and deteriorative effects on the human body.

Naturally, when the Summit comes into play, Santos immediately sees it as the opportunity it is- a change for one massive play, a game of sabotage and large-scale destruction with the end goal of dissolution of the other factions and a power vacuum to insert himself and Myrus into. He's convinced himself that he can get Myrus to see reason and join him, once she sees the results of his methods. They both want the same things, after all. The ends will always justify the means.

The greatest threat to him is ultimately Kyano, but he underestimates him, seeing him as someone who could be tempted by a place of power at his side and generally controlled and reasoned with. Besides, if that fails, he could always get him out of the picture too!

Throughout his meetings with the other factions, he keeps his plans concealed, searching instead for information and indications of those who could be swayed to his side. He's thinking ahead- he can't run a country alone, and will need administration, allies. FEI suspects him of planning something, but the Resistance is such a political dumpster fire beneath the surface that they keep getting misleading information, and can never quite get the details for what he may be planning.

That doesn't stop them from deploying some... contingencies, of course. One can never be too careful.

Ultimately, Santos and the Resistance have good intentions; but they run into the issue that through making such an incredibly bold and violent move against the Corynen, with so many innocents caught in the crossfire, they've changed themselves (and ultimately, Cyrin) in the public's eyes from innocent victims fighting for freedom from oppression to monsters who are a threat to the public and must be wiped out for the greater good. Santos is so blinded by what he's seen, so furious (and largely rightfully so), that he fails to see that he's become his father.

The ends justify the means.

Isn't that what Tornis always said?

-- -- --

That's all I've got for now! Please please please send @v0idspeak or I any questions you have about this! If anyone asks, I'll be happy to elaborate on any events or references in this post, as well as talk about how the Resistance took on Cana as a symbol- something rather revolutionary, if you'll pardon the pun.

Want more? Check out the #storystuff tag for even more rambles and lore! Or send an ask! Do both!!

[yuki-boshi]

Kai no Kiseki - Act 2 Rean Route 1 English Summary

Table of Contents

Can't believe Rean just Rean'd all over the place

Altina begins by speaking with Jona Sacred from Crossbell. He remarks that Van and his group have been pretty useful, and Altina praises them for participating in the MK exercise and resolving the past incidents (Kuro 1+2).

She expresses hope that they're moving closer to solving the Grim Garten situation. Jona notes that the ID slot expansion should be nearly complete, allowing them to move forward with Phase 2. Altina thanks Sacred and asks him to pass her regards to Chief Plato.

Rean compliments Altina for multitasking, helping him while also working on the Grim Garten issue for the Epstein Foundation. Altina humbly replies that she should’ve focused more on studying hardware, not just programming in school.

Rean asks if that was Jona from Crossbell and mentions that he probably wouldn’t recognize him, Tio, Kea, or Sully, the Star Princess.

Altina says she was lucky to meet them when visiting Juna, and while Kea has grown a lot, Sully is still ahead.

Rean points out that Altina has grown too, about 3 arges taller than Millium. Altina admits it's true but laments that she's lacking in other areas, hinting at Millium having larger proportions and she doesn't. (It's a flat joke)

Annoyed, she adds that it sets them apart as humans. Rean reassures her, saying Fie is barely 20 and still growing, but Altina counters with Towa's height. Rean quickly stops her, noting that Towa is sensitive about the subject. Crow jumps in, saying Towa drinks her milk every morning hoping for a growth spurt and was in a bad mood when he and Angelica teased her about it.

Crow then reflects on how he didn’t expect to be traveling with them again, despite getting a head start. The group explains that the rocket launch caught everyone off guard, and the Republic has since cut off communication with neighboring countries. Thors mobilized both campuses and alumni to investigate, but surprisingly, the Presidential Office reached out directly, specifically asking for the Ashen and Azure Chevaliers.

When they arrive, the group is greeted by Commander General Daniel Harling, a key figure from Operation Mille Mirage, who was appointed by Cassius Bright. Rean thanks him, and Harling returns the gesture. Rean learns that Harling was chosen for this role because of his experience working with Gramheart, who had collaborated with Cassius Bright during his time at the Liberl Embassy.

Harling asks the group to meet at 13:00 the next day and advises them to rest at their hotels. Crow mentions he already has an invite to stay elsewhere. Just then, Towa and Fie arrive by car, joining the conversation and unintentionally annoying the surrounding Calvard army officers, who insist on following protocol. A voice interrupts from a distance, saying it’s fine. The voice belongs to Professor Hamilton, accompanied by Esmeray. Hamilton reveals that it was her invitation, and she will be hosting them. Harling acknowledges that it’s fine if it's her, and they exchange thanks for their work on the space program. Hamilton mentions that she wishes she could’ve contributed more, but it was all she could do.

As the conversation wraps up, a distant voice calls out to Rean and Crow, telling them their “Tyrfies” are unloaded.

Altina cringes, puzzled by the term. Mint, a super clumsy engineer, appears with Giscard and excitedly gushes over Calvard’s technology. Giscard greets everyone and mentions that he met Esmeray recently, but hasn’t seen Professor Hamilton since April. Esmeray suggests someone might need to squeeze into the small Leno car. Crow reassures her, pulling out his ETWS, the same one Elaine bought in the Act 1 Connect Event.

Towa, looking unamused, asks Crow what he's doing. While no text appears on screen, you can hear her call him a dirty traitor. (Cold Steel lore: Towa’s friend group from CS1 developed an experimental orbal bike, which Crow rode.) Crow replies that Angelica and George were dying to get their hands on the ETWS too, so he’s no traitor at all.

Fie laughs, commenting that they're surprisingly close. Rean agrees, adding that they’ve been friends even longer than he and Crow. The group heads to Hamilton’s house and sleeps.

The next morning, during breakfast, Fie, Altina, and Towa enthusiastically talk with their mouths full, praising the food’s high quality, even the water. Hamilton explains that Basel's water development was crucial, as it powers the city and is used everywhere. After breakfast, Hamilton offers them dessert, and they’re given an Engadin cake. Crow remarks that this is the cake Arkride was glazing, and Rean agrees, adding that one of his assistants, Quatre, used to live here.

(Rean refers to him as an assistant because he hasn’t met him yet, since Quatre was taking exams in the prologue.)

Kincaid arrives at the door, telling them they’re free to explore Basel but must be ready for the mock exercise at the Oort Training Site between the AF and the Tyrfings. When asked if they’ll be followed or watched, Kincaid assures them they don’t have the manpower to babysit and hands them a Rank A card, shocking Associate Professor Esmeray, as it’s the same rank as hers.

Kincaid says he’s a busy man and needs to go, while Crow jokes that he wouldn’t want to add more to his plate. Before leaving, Kincaid tells Rean that Yun Ka-Fai was spotted in Calvard. Crow points out that Rean’s Senior Sis (Shizuna) seems to be working for the Presidential Office, and Altina adds that the road to the Kunlun mountains is blocked off by Ikaruga forces, where the Space Program launch is set.

Hamilton and Esmeray leave to attend an event, giving the group some free time. During this time, it’s revealed why Fie called Van in Act 1-3 when he was with Jorda. Fie wanted access to the 4spg under his name for some Spriggan work, as the network isn’t closely monitored by the CID, Police, or Guild, who might be tampering with information. The group decides where to go, and Towa mentions she has a specific place in mind for the evening. Rean headpats Altina much to everyone's shock and Crow says that he's finally able to be more casual after the Babel Incident happened.

While free-roaming, the group comments on how impressive Basel is, with Crow eager to explore every nook and cranny. At the Quarry, an NPC named Lawrence mentions Anchorville City as a logistical warehouse powerhouse in Calvard's outskirts, which becomes important later.

At the inn, NPCs mention that all the shops are tied up working on the Space Program, making it difficult for regular people to place orders. The group encounters Lila, the maid from the Liberl shop in Trion Mall, along with a researcher named Rei.

They introduce themselves, and Lila reveals she was one of the secret liaisons on the Arseille II’s development. Altina is shocked, recalling it was during the Babel Incident. Crow tries to ask Lila for her number, but Towa turns around, furious.

Talking to them again, Lila expresses her honor in finally meeting members of Thors, and Rei shares that he’s a researcher for Liberl’s ZCF.

Later, the group sees kids playing with remote-controlled cars, and Crow is excited to see such a relic still being used, as it’s uncommon. At Giscard’s Factory, Giscard laughs about Mint being such an airhead and wonders how Schmidt even took her in. Mint recounts a story about how she accidentally caused a shell to explode, covering everything with mustard during an equipment exercise for the Panzer Soldats. Esmeray jokes that it’s a miracle no one was hurt, and Mint claims she must have the Goddess’s blessing.

As they chat, the group learns that working on the Tyrfings has been quite the experience for the engineers. Despite being technologically inferior to the AFs, the tuning and refining process taught Giscard a lot, and he believes he brought the Tyrfing to its best. Crow is happy to hear that and plans to relay the news to George and Makarov. The other mechanics are surprised Mint is still in one piece after all her mishaps, and Mint cheerfully says it was no big deal. Fie bluntly tells her that they’re not exactly praising her.

Giscard mentions that Professor Cronkite has been working tirelessly to perfect the new AF, and it even has countermeasures against Rean, so they shouldn’t let their guard down. Crow jokes that it’s funny how Giscard is rooting for the enemy and not his own nation, to which Giscard replies that he worked on their Tyrfings, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see whether his work or Cronkite’s new AF comes out on top. Esmeray adds that Giscard is still a boy at heart.

When free roaming again, talking to Giscard has him praising Mint, saying she makes the scariest mistakes but has real talent. Speaking to Mint reveals she worked on the Tyrfing all night and realized afterward she had a leftover screw, meaning there’s a missing screw somewhere on the Tyrfing. (Or it could mean that she's just improved!)

----

Grim Garten Door 3:

The group finds a Grim Portal and enters it. Their first comment is that it’s hard to distinguish from reality due to how advanced VR has become. Crow notes that its design resembles the Reverie Corridor. (Crow: “It’s like it’s here just to pad time!”) The group recalls that Arkride cleared two domains, so they should be able to handle the third. They explain the mechanics of having to clear the domain multiple times, and Fie mentions it’s similar to the Corridor during the Babel Incident.

The boss they encounter is a giant spider. And after defeating, confirm that they can't progress to the next domain as the Spider must be defeated by two separate parties to proceed.

---

Afterward, the group heads to the 4spg board and finds someone needing help with their Hollow Core. Fie notes that since Van has been to Basel, people are familiar with the 4spg system, and Rean sees it as a good opportunity.

At the Bracer Guild Branch, they find Gray, who has just transferred to Basel. If you remember Act 1, he was at the Grand Prix talking to other Guild members about not wanting to go. The Guild gives Rean and his group preferential treatment due to his heroic status across Zemuria and trusts him with 4spg work. They even ask if he can take on some tasks for them. Poor Van.

The guild request sends the group to Auge Canyon, where they comment on the superb air quality and beautiful views. Crow and Towa mention that Angelica would love this place for an orbal bike ride. After fighting a big monster, the group encounters a hacking chest.

4SPG: Hollow Core Pocel: Rean heads to the Quarry Inn to meet Professor Athena, who was expecting Arkride. She seems unsure about Rean and Crow, but Crow assures her that he can do just as good work (being a "Walmart Spriggan"). Athena explains that the current Hollow Core, Pocel, was based on Mare and was once used by Van. However, the new version with updated data went haywire. Pocel grows from a naive girl into a woman, which surprises the group. They learn it was Professor Cronkite who developed it. Athena asks Rean if he can equip it, and upon doing so, Pocel reverts to a bratty child who degrades and teases everyone, much to Athena's dismay.

Heartbroken, Athena explains that Pocel used to be a kind girl and asks Rean to take her to three locations to help her adapt to the environment. At Giscard’s Factory, Pocel’s algorithm is tested, producing fairly accurate, though imperfect, spreadsheet data. Giscard dismisses it as useless, while one of his workers reminds him to be nice to the AI since it’s a girl. Giscard retorts that AIs aren’t human. Mint offers to run tests on Pocel, suggesting some insane ones that could break its logic. The group jokes that if Mint had been in Basel earlier, she might have been the culprit.

At the Aerotram, Pocel manages ticket services and recognizes people’s faces. At the movie theater, she assists with seating, food suggestions, and even enhances the sound quality for moviegoers. Rean deduces that all these factors are gradually influencing Pocel’s behavior and reports his findings to Athena. Saddened, she contemplates erasing this version of Pocel, but Rean urges her not to. Drawing on his experience as a teacher, he explains that none of his students were perfect, yet they still grew. He asks Athena to give Pocel a chance to develop.

Athena agrees to try raising Pocel. Crow remarks that Pocel may not be suitable for public services but could have potential in the private sector. Fie jokes that some clients might be into bratty girls, prompting Towa to glance at them confused.

The other 4SPG quest involves a store dealing with scalpers hoarding materials needed to make highly efficient microwaves. Radard, the client, expected Arkride, but settles for Rean’s group. Rean asks why Radard didn’t go to the police or Guild, suspecting something fishy. Radard explains he thinks it’s organized crime and asks them to investigate.

Talking to various manufacturers, they all report being hit by shortages. An antenna manufacturer at Verne points them to Jason, a delivery man. Jason says he’s been delivering antenna and microwave parts to the same location, believing it was for the space program (foreshadowing from earlier!).

Rean gathers all the information and concludes that these materials are likely being used together to create a signal-disrupting weapon. The group tracks down a mafia group and, with the help of Hubert (a character who was a triple agent like Lecter), manages to disarm them. The mafia escapes, but the CID steps in, advising Rean not to pursue them since they aren’t Calvard citizens. The group returns the stolen materials that had been hoarded.

-----

Rean and the group enter the Verne building and find Tausend apologizing profusely to Professor Hamilton for having to clean up his mess, and for her trip back to Basel on his behalf. Tausend mentions meeting Alisa and Irina at a conference in May and expresses his desire to release the new T-Phones globally in collaboration with the Reinford Corporation.

However, he admits that Alisa's mom was overwhelming. The group sympathizes, and Tausend adds that Alisa is a dignified young woman. He then reveals that Reinford is involved in the Space Program, though he doesn't know all the details. Tausend claims to be a changed man, and Professor Hamilton gives her regards to the group, saying she will be leaving Basel tomorrow.

At the movie theater, selecting "Gloria" reveals a fictionalized version of the Edith battle where Nina, playing Sheena, is injured. She gets encouragement from her peers and leads a charge to the dawn of her new homeland. Crow finds the movie tastelessly romanticized, reminding him of what he did to Osborne in CS1-2. Rean tries to reassure him that Crow's not the same person anymore.

The group praises Nina's acting, and Towa asks Rean how he feels about romanticized history, considering he taught History. Rean reflects that power dynamics are easily swayed and often turbulent.

Jedd, Tony, and Mina can also be found. Jedd, originally from the 4SPG in Messeldam, ran away from his abusive, alcoholic father.

Van in Kuro 2 confronted the dad, and Jedd was adopted by a kind old lady named Angela. Talking to Jedd and Mina reveals a quarrel: Mina calls Jedd inconsiderate, while Jedd thinks Mina nags. Tony finds it endearing that they’re still close despite their time apart and is glad they could all visit Basel together.

(Yes i just remember random NPCs, I'm sorry for including them in summaries, I like seeing their personal growths and journeys. Talk to more NPCs!!!)

(I also want to point out that someone in the r/falcom discord server thought that a missing child abuse case was a fedex delivery quest because he was using MTL which is actually what prompted me to start writing summaries so I have a huge emotional attachment to them and I can really see that my Japanese has improved a lot in two years and maybe my summarizing too. Click this link to see how my journey started)

At the Motor Pavilion, the group sees various cars and orbal bikes. Towa feels slightly annoyed by the competition, while Crow comments that Angelica and George would be thrilled to see it all, pointing out that they don't have a monopoly. Rean notes that Alisa is handling the competition well. Fie jokingly says Rean and Crow are just like Van, which Towa confirms, and Altina chimes in that Rean isn't being a responsible adult.

Prince Sherid, Director Gotti, and Kincaid arrive. Sherid remarks that boys should be boys, while Rean greets Sherid, and Crow is ecstatic to meet Gotti in person since he knows about his fanservice-y movies. The group asks why Kincaid is escorting them, and he explains that they are major sponsors for the exercise drill. Gotti announces he's secured the movie rights for the Space Program and plans to feature large robots clashing, while hoping he can get Emilia promoting it in a sexualized pose. Everyone is visibly disgusted, and even Kincaid states that the CID will strictly review the movie’s content. Gotti looks at Kincaid saying he thought they were friends.

After some time, Kincaid calls, provided the 4SPGs were completed, expressing hope that Rean won’t be influenced by the shady underworld of 4SPGs. He takes a jab at Crow, implying Rean might end up like him. Crow quips back, and the girls chide Crow for being a bad influence, with Alisa and Machias worrying about Rean because of him. Crow, irritated, jokes that the worst thing he’d do is take Rean to pick up women at a nightclub, which prompts an angry Towa to demand he ELABORATE.

At the hotel, Fie will find Crema who is still struggling after losing her lover in the events at Oracion (Kuro 1).

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Connect Event: Rean, Crow, and Towa

Rean and Crow eye orbal bikes while Towa third-wheels on what feels like a date. Rean is intrigued by the Red Star and compares it to the ETWAS, while Towa scolds them for being childish and accuses Rean of betraying his own vehicle back in the Empire.

Rean retorts that it’s different, and points out that Towa also “betrayed” them by buying an orbal scooter.

Towa defends herself, saying the Empire doesn’t have scooters. The trio decides to go on a test drive.

Rean and Crow race, leaving Towa behind, and after catching up, Rean and Towa reflect on the potential of orbal scooters at Thors hoping it could be used in the academy at some point. Crow says they're always thinking about Thors.

Rean later swaps bikes with Crow for another race, further irritating Towa. (She really is thirdwheeling their date RIP)

The group reminisces about friends, and Towa reveals that Alisa is developing flying orbal bikes for Erebonia.

Rean mentions the desertification of Eastern Zemuria and the technological advancements being made to combat it. Rean and Crow reflect on how they want to make their former allies proud in the upcoming AF exercise (Valimar and Ordine).

Connect Event: Altina

Altina excitedly shows off her new orbal camera to Rean and rambles about its specs. Rean, worried, asks how much she spent, but tells her not to say after hearing it was a significant portion of her savings. He’s glad Altina has taken up photography, which she says became a hobby after the Babel incident two years ago. She asks Rean to help her capture memorable moments, and he agrees.

As they walk through Old Town, Rean nerds out about the architecture’s history, and Altina snaps a photo of him, commenting on his smile and how he’s been quite chatty since Babel. Rean laughs, admitting his new students often scold him for it. They take more photos on the Aerotram, and Altina reflects on how her photography skills have improved since Cold Steel 3, embarrassed by her past attempts with the Rabbit Camera. Rean takes a picture of Altina, and the two head to Basel’s cliffside, admiring the city’s photogenic beauty. Altina expresses a desire to share the pictures with Musse, Juna, and Millium. Rean suggests she also show them to Kurt and Ash, who he recently asked to serve as interim instructors but they're both too busy.

Altina then muses on how it’s been two years since NC7 graduated. We get a description of what NC7 has been up to.

Juna joined the SSS, Kurt became an instructor abroad, Ash set off on a journey with Musse on an orbal bike, who accepted her Duke of Cayenne title. Altina admits she stays in touch with Juna, but laments that they’ve all grown busy and feels they’re drifting apart. Rean agrees, adding that it’s part of adult life. Rean jokes that her height has at least grown too, and Altina hopes her (boob) proportions do too, clearly envious of Millium still. Rean tries to reassure her.

Altina asks if Rean ever feels lonely, and he admits he does sometimes. Rean likens NC7 to chicks leaving the nest, proud of them growing up. Altina teases him, saying he still treats her like a child, especially with his habit of giving her headpats and that she plans on joining Thors again to continue being Rean's support partner and he thanks her.

Connect Event: Fie

Rean and Fie spar, with Rean impressed by her prowess and the Xipha technology.

Fie corners him with multiple copies of herself, prompting Rean to jokingly call it unfair. During their next match, Rean uses Spirit Unification to dash behind Fie, and she quips that that was truly unfair.

They agree to call it a tie, with Rean laughing. Afterward, they sit on a cliff reminiscing, with Rean reflecting on how much Fie has grown, now a B-Rank Bracer, and taking on a junior (Feri).

Fie thanks everyone who supported her, from her jaeger comrades to Class VII, and expresses her desire to lift others up in turn. Rean recalls how, when they first met, Fie was a sleepyhead he couldn’t ignore. Fie wonders what he’s talking about, laughing as Rean mentions giving her headpats. Fie, teasing, pats Rean’s head in return, causing him to blush. She playfully asks if she can replace his image of her as a child with her current self. Rean, flustered, notes it feels odd to be on the receiving end of a headpat at his age. Fie smugly responds, “Now you know how it feels.”

At the Testing Site, Rean and Crow test the Tyrfing X and S against the Zaicres, with Cronkite eager to see their performance. Although Rean acknowledges the newer suits are superior, he’s determined to give it his all, while Crow is excited to show off his customized Panzer Soldat. During the first mock battle, two AFs activate their maximum output, and Gotti, watching from afar, remarks how cool the robot fights are, musing about adding fanservice to his movie adaptation. Tausend, who agreed with him up to that point, looks unimpressed. Sherid laughs. Everyone is impressed by the AF's competence, and Mint explains the learning time for those suits is much shorter compared to Panzer Soldats. Altina credits the Xiphas, but Giscard remarks that the assisting program could be a hindrance to ace pilots. Cronkite is introduced to the group, and after further testing, they await the newest AF.

However, after some time, the AF doesn’t appear. Commander Harling apologizes for the delay, and Kincaid remarks that they’ve arrived. Emilia, aboard an airship, thanks Shizuna for keeping her AF prepped, before making a flashy entrance with the Excalibur Assault Frame. Harling is embarrassed by his daughter’s antics. Emilia introduces herself as part of the Space Force, boasting that her unit is leagues ahead of theirs, thanks to enhanced orbal bike technology developed at Thors (referencing Angelica and George from the CS games) that she's been using as training for this very moment.

During the battle, Emilia, exuding confidence, smirks and playfully says, "Let’s have the best dance in history!" Her Excalibur AF moves with fluid grace, matching her enthusiasm. As the fight intensifies, she raises the capabilities of Excalibur even further, and Crow, sensing the shift in momentum, quips, “How much stronger is this thing gonna get?” Rean, pushing himself to keep up, coordinates with Crow, their teamwork slowly overpowering Emilia despite her impressive maneuvers. With a final, well-timed strike, Rean and Crow manage to defeat her.

After the battle, Emilia emerges, her usual spark undiminished, and extends her hand to Rean and Crow. The three shake hands, all smiling with mutual respect. They compliment each other’s piloting skills, but Crow, ever perceptive, narrows his eyes slightly and says, “Still… it’s kinda weird. That Excalibur of yours felt almost like it was tuned specifically to counter Rean’s style.” He glances up at the airship hovering overhead (where Shizuna is).

Emilia laughs lightly, “Maybe. Wouldn’t be fair if you both ganged up on me without giving me an edge, right?” Without warning, she leans in and gives both Rean and Crow a quick kiss on the cheek. Crow freezes, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face, while Rean looks utterly flustered.

Towa, Fie, and Altina scream in shock to both of them being kissed. One particularly dramatic NPC in the back shouts, “It should’ve been me, not him!”

After the battle, Rean and Crow walk back to the girls, with Towa immediately stepping forward, arms crossed, her eyes stern looking at them while Fie and Altina are unamused. Rean scratches the back of his head, sheepishly avoiding eye contact, mumbling an apology.

Cronkite approaches Harling telling him that the data they collected from that fight should allow them to move on to the next phase, and that with this, our chances against that have just shot up.

Up on the airship, Shizuna, who had been watching the battle unfold from afar, smirks to herself that she didn't miss the fun parts by hanging out with Van. She pulls out her phone wanting to meet up with someone.

Rean, sensing something amiss, feels a strange emptiness—almost as if Shizuna’s presence had suddenly vanished. He turns to Emilia, who gives him a wink and a playful wave before walking away, leaving Rean to wonder just how many pieces are still in play, thinking about his Master’s words to reach the Land of Kaiten (The Land of the Heavens Turning).

[the-crimson]

I am still so incredibly confused by the lore adventure we went on today.

Code Flippa lead bbh, Max, and Aypierre back into the maze to the one blocked off hallway to find it transformed with black concrete that lead to a cucurucho puzzle, Dapper’s hat, and Bbh’s plane ticket.

Parts of it looked Federation built while others certainly were not. Could this have been created/sponsored by the dark cucurucho?

Ok ok. We discovered the maze when an unknown entity delivered the coords to Tubbo, Slime, and Roier via black concrete. The maze is some kind of abandoned federation facility. It seems that light cucurucho can’t go in meanwhile dark cucurucho is living down there somehow. Then the “space ship” appears and all the eggs start leaving messages with black concrete as if their dimension was leaving traces on this world through the contact. Then code Flippa leads the gang into the maze to find it also corrupted. The message they received about protocol AB was glitchy and the books they found were distinctly not the cururuchos we are familiar with. The cucurucho puzzle’s answer was a cheerleader pin up of cucurucho that lead to black, red, and white dice, Bad’s plane ticket and Dapper’s top hat.

Ok. Theory time, I’m gonna grasp at straws and try to piece things together XD

The structure that appeared is a conduit between the dimensions. It allows the other world to affect this one easier. Where ever this world is is the origins of the code entities. Dark cucurucho is connected to this other world somehow kr has some influence there. We know the codes original goal was to make everyone leave the island. What if this other dimension is a prison/garbage disposal of the federation’s failed experiments?

Luzu’s computer was a link in the beginning that allowed first contact to be made and the first code to cross over. Luzu’s computer was eventually destroyed (by the federation?) and the code lost its form/began to decay (i don’t remember the timeline here). The federation claimed to have some kind of power over the codes and promised they wouldn’t be a problem during the election cycle which makes sense if they are failed experiments. They might have partial control, just enough to neuter them temporarily, as it took a while before the codes attacked again - and when they did they took a new approach.

The codes took the form of the eggs and attacked the presidential candidates. If they want to make the islanders leave/resist the federation so they don’t wind up as more failed experiments then it makes sense the codes would try to kill the candidates. They would want to stop the election from happening because that means the islanders will be even more trapped/less likely to leave.

After the election they turned their focus entirely into Etoiles and getting the code sword and shield. Maybe there is something within this dimension that is incredibly powerful - an old experiment that the federation created this dimension to imprison - that is trying to get out. While in the dimension, nothing can die as this dimension is entirely in code. That’s why the eggs are safe there, why they haven’t needed any tasks done, why their life cycle has paused - because they aren’t corporeal, they’ve been reduced to code and are thus untouchable. The binary entities have been in this dimension for so long they no longer remember what they used to look like.

However, have u noticed that once the codes got one sword, they’ve been able to duplicate them infinitely? Maybe that’s why they wanted the shield back from Etoiles. Within this other world, the codes can create more of those items. Maybe they were using Etoiles to train themselves so that when this powerful experiment breaks free they’ll be able to destroy it? Maybe they were training Etoiles so he’d be able to destroy it? Maybe they are duplicating the op sword and shield so the islanders will be able to kill it? Idk

I got a little side tracked so let’s get back to the maze. The codes have a vested interest in the players Lear ing about this entity if it’s going to break free. Whoever is on the other side brought Tubbo and crew to the maze (was it dark cucurucho?) Within the maze they discovered the transmission confirming that the federation knows why the eggs ran away. Dark cucurucho showed them the wheel and the egg items but we still have no clue what that was. Perhaps this is dark cucurucho’s job, to keep the federation’s mistakes forgotten and it is preparing the players for when the fed’s mistake breaks free via its influence in this other dimension.

Then today we have code Flippa bring us to a part of the maze I think was built/hijacked directly by dark cucurucho. It was a distinctly federation structure that had been renovated with darker colors and black concrete and the books were a scary kind of playful. The cururucho maze makes sense because the dark cucurucho is mocking light cucurucho. Maybe this dark cucurucho is tired of cleaning up after the federation or despises the other cucuruchos because it’s forced to live in the sewers cleaning up their shit.

It knows bbh, what he’s capable of, so it brought him here via code assistance to show him a piece of his past he doesn’t remember. It wants to tear down the federation just like the islanders so it is spreading all the federations dirty laundry for the islanders to see. First confirmation that the federation knows why the eggs left and now bbh’s past visit to the island he doesn’t remember. Maybe dark cucurucho is even aiding in bringing the fed’s monster back so it can destroy the fed itself.

I have no clue I feel like I’m still as confused as when I started writing this XD tell me ur thoughts and theories cuz I’m at a loss lol