#The Senate Torture Report

[xtruss]

More Than 10 Years Later, The Senate Torture Report Is Still Secret

I Filed A Lawsuit To Obtain The 6,700-Page Report with “Excruciating Detail” About The CIA’s Abuses.

— Shawn Musgrave | June 27 2024

The Control Tower is seen through the razor wire inside the Camp VI Detention Facility in Guantánamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba, in 2019. AP

The Senate Select Committee on Intelligence submitted its 6,700-page “torture report” about the CIA to the White House in April 2014. More than 10 years later, the full report remains secret after a federal appellate court dismissed a lawsuit I filed in the hopes of forcing its release.

The document “includes comprehensive and excruciating detail” about the CIA’s “program of indefinite secret detention and the use of brutal interrogation techniques,” the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who chaired the Senate intelligence committee at the time, wrote in a 2014 summary.

For years, there have been calls to release the full report, including from human rights watchdogs, one of its authors, and even Feinstein and some high-ranking Democrats on the Senate intelligence committee.

“The full report details how the CIA lied to the public, the Congress, the president, and to itself about the information produced by the torture program,” said Tom Blanton, director of the National Security Archive at George Washington University, which has fought to obtain CIA records. “We need to know our real history so we don’t repeat its crimes.”

So far, efforts to obtain the torture report using the federal Freedom of Information Act have been unsuccessful. In late 2016, despite the CIA director’s objections, former President Barack Obama placed a copy in his presidential papers. But that copy is not subject to FOIA until 2029 — 12 years after Obama left office.

The CIA and a handful of federal agencies also have copies of the torture report, although the Trump administration returned several of these to the Senate intelligence committee vaults in 2017.

The Obama, Trump, and Biden administrations all fought strenuously against FOIA requests for these agencies’ copies. In 2017, the Supreme Court declined to consider a challenge from the American Civil Liberties Union. A law professor’s attempt to obtain the report under FOIA is currently pending before the U.S. 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals, following oral argument last fall.

In 2021, my lawyer, Kel McClanahan of National Security Counselors, tried a different tack. We sued the Senate intelligence committee itself and its current chair, Sen. Mark Warner, D-Va., for a copy of the full torture report.

FOIA explicitly does not apply to Congress. Instead, McClanahan argued that the public is entitled to the committee’s copy of the torture report under the common law right of access, a doctrine that is well developed when it comes to court records but less so regarding the records of Congress.

“It is high time that this critical piece of American history is made public,” McClanahan said.

The district court rejected this argument in 2022, ruling that it had no jurisdiction to order the committee to disclose the report because of the U.S. Constitution’s Speech or Debate Clause, which protects members of Congress from being sued for legislative activities. Last week, the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld that ruling.

“In sum, we conclude that the report is a legislative document, and that the Speech or Debate Clause therefore protects it from compelled disclosure,” wrote Judge Cornelia Pillard for the unanimous panel.

If courts continue declining to wade into the matter, Congress could also take steps to make the torture report available before 2029. Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., who still sits on the intelligence committee, has previously called for it to be declassified.

“I’m not holding my breath,” Blanton said.

[cherryblossomshadow]

#IM STILL MAD ABOUT THE IRAQ WAR #I WILL BE MAD FOREVER ABOUT THE IRAQ WAR #god knows what you kids are being taught in what remains of our schools #but it was an atrocity #start to finish (tags courtesy of @roach-works)

Nothing. I was in 4th grade when obama got elected, and our “current events” textbook hadn’t been updated to include information past the turn of the millennium. we talked a bit about Arab Springs, but literally everything I learned about the Bush Administration I learned from tumblr. and I went to a californian school system that talked about colonization and slavery and why they were bad (comment courtesy of @magic-gps)

.

He was Secretary of Defense for President George HW Bush, which also included what later became the Department of Homeland Defense. Gulf War I was a taste, just enough to get their beaks wet. (comment courtesy of @montereyjackrubytuesdayweld)

.

Hey, don't sleep on the time he shot a guy In. The. Face. And the guy had a press conference to apologise to Dick The-Guy-Who-Shot-Him-In-The-Face Cheney I mean it doesn't compare to all the torture and war crimes and gestures at mountain of stone but let us not forget that the guy was evil and scary enough that a dude got shot in the face, had a heart attack because of a pellet too close to his heart, and 6 days later felt compelled to PUBLICLY apologise to the man behind the trigger for causing HIM discomfort by getting shot by him. (comment courtesy of @arwynnywra)

.

Yes, Trump is too much even for Dick Cheney. Dick Cheney was a refined kind of evil, that shoot you in the face and make you apologize for it kind of evil…not this crass gold toilet moronic hate-savant evil. (comment courtesy of @shantismurf)

.

Not to excuse Cheney or anything, but my take on him is that his evilness and cruelty has always tried to have a point or purpose. Usually imperialist or profit or other perceived benefit, but there was a point, and a chain of logic that you could comprehend. The cruelty and lack of ethics wasn't the sole purpose, but a byproduct. Even Gitmo had the excuse of "wanting intelligence".

So I think it's probably more accurate to say that Trump is too stupid of a politician for Cheney to work with, because Trump's actions often don't have a point beyond cruelty for its own sake. Not profit for the oil companies, not reconstruction money diverted into private accounts, not imperialist control of foreign regions for American nationalist interests...

Indeed, the majority of his actions that do make sense only make sense in the viewpoint of "Putin is Trump's idol and puppetmaster", and to a man like Cheney, who views the USA as the sole rightful superpower in the world, there is no greater evil than selling out the US to Putin.

But yeah, it certainly says a lot that a man who viewed "enhanced interrogation techniques" as acceptable, even desirable, has looked at Trump and gone, "You are too evil for me to work with." (comment courtesy of @the-library-alcove)

Quotes:

When a small terrorist cell headed by a saudi arabian royal based out of afghanistan smashed two planes into new york, we somehow ended up invading Iraq for uhhhhhhh *checks notes* an entire generation.

.

8 trillion dollars of american taxpayer money … was paid to dick and his pals to slaughter a generation of middle easterners whose only crime was being born in the gap between valuable resources and evil men.

.

it's probably more accurate to say that Trump is too stupid of a politician for Cheney to work with

I can't get over the fact that Dick fucking Cheney said, basically, that Trump is too evil of a dude for him to get behind.

That's like... fuck, idk... that's like Dick Cheney saying a politician is too fucking evil for him to work with. The dude who famously shot a dude in the face and the dude apologized to him. That fucking guy.

[macybay947]

not that i expected anything different, but the senate intelligence committee's report on torture is truly horrific

[birthanon]

Executive Order

This story contains: mpreg, rapid pregnancy, detailed birth, extreme birth denial, clothing birth, torture, and public birth. It is a RPF, featuring Donald Trump and his supporters getting what they deserves. 18+, don't like don't read. You have been warned. Story behind cut.

The day after his inauguration, Trump woke up and knew he’d made a mistake. He lay in bed, his hand tracing the two lumps under his pajama shirt, and the missing lump in his pajama pants. He slipped his hand down the front of his silk pajamas just to check, and sure enough. His dick, never that big to begin with to be honest, was gone, replaced with a forest of hair and foreign folds of skin. “What?” he gasped, unable to summon more words.

“You wished this upon yourself,” a voice said. Donald jerked upwards, at the sound, withdrawing his fat hand from his pants. A diaphanous, woman-like creature floated at the foot of his bed, long black hair trailing into mist behind her, a purple and gold robe draped over her misty-figure, dissolving out of sight before it reached what would have been her legs, if she’d had any.

“I did not!” Donald protested. “Why would anyone, how could anyone wish for this?”

“In one of those executive orders you signed yesterday, you know, the menu-like things people gave you? You said you wanted there to only be two genders in America, and that those genders would be determined by the sex-cell they produce at conception. All babies are phenotypically female for the first six weeks, so I have made you and all those who support you, compliant to your will.” The genie smiled broadly. “I’ve left another present for you as well, so you can enjoy the complete experience.” Then, with a little wave, she began to fade.

“Nasty, nasty woman!” Trump exclaimed. “Come back, come back and fix this or else—!” but it was too late, she was already gone, and the deed was already done.

Intense nausea plagued Donald for the next several days. He woke up nauseous and threw up his coke and McDonalds every time he ate it. Rumors of an intense stomach bug going around the senators and congressmen floated up to his ears. Each one that reported sick, that didn’t come, Trump knew what had happened to them, a victim of his wish. Their anatomy, like his, had been changed. Then the nausea eased off, and the weight gain began, it was subtle from days four to six, but when they’d come back from break the next week, all the Republican representatives on Trump’s sides seemed to be splitting out of their suit coats. 

Ten days after his inauguration, Trump called all his followers together for a special meeting. The day of, he woke up with horrible stomach pains, horrible back pains. Probably the bloating, he figured. His stomach had shifted size overnight, whereas before it had been quite broad and sitting high up, enough that he could button his trousers awkwardly below the swell and keep them on, now, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t manage to button them. The silky material of his suit pants caught on his broadened hips, and the crotch of the seam dug into his extremely sensitive folds beneath. It was sort of like having a permanent wedgie, and even so, he could not manage to get his pants up over the shiny curve of his massive, firm stomach. 

His nicely starched shirt presented similar problems—the buttons straining around his chest where the binder he’d frantically bought last week attempted to wrangle his new, sensitive, leaking breasts. The binder couldn’t quite do the job, however, and breast tissue spilled out of the armpits of the binder. Lower down, the shirt couldn’t quite cover his stomach, and he couldn’t get the last few buttons, the ones centered over the main mass of his swell, together either. 

All just weight gain from the stress of being the best president ever, Trump figured. Sure it had been rapid, but that was likely an attempt at that nasty genie lady who was trying to embarrass him. 

Pondering his issue, Donald pulled off his clothes, and switched his binder for a full binder, which pressed uncomfortably down on his massive stomach. He groaned as the pressure triggered another cramp, whining at the intense pain. Once it eased, he wiped tears from his face, then glanced in the mirror. His silhouette was better, but he needed more. He pulled out another full-length binder and shimmied into that one too. 

The pressure was immense. His ribs ached. His stomach protested. Immense pressure built in his stomach and hips, but it served to slim his figure down enough to get his shirt and pants buttoned (barely). 

Thus attired, he pressed a button, and a slim young woman slipped in, his attendant. He’d picked her for her beauty, blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, a fresh college graduate. She helped him into his suit and tie, got his shoes on him (for it was far too hard to bend down and get those on himself), and helped him with his extensive make-up preparations. As she turned from him, he grabbed her nice butt appreciatively. She flinched back, but said nothing. What a charming girl. He’d get more out of her later.

For now, he had a meeting. He ate three McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches in the motorcade on his way to the meeting at the senate. Since the bouts of severe nausea several days ago, he’d felt constantly hungry. Still, there didn’t seem to be much room in his stomach, with it pressed so far down. Cramps consistently wracked his body, making him moan around the sandwiches in his mouth. But still, he ate.

When Donald got out of the motorcade, he waddled slowly up the steps to the senate. It was always a bit of a climb, but far harder this time for some reason. He had to stop several times to get his breath back, his security team shifting uncomfortably each time he did. Groaning, he pressed his hands into his back, trying to shuffle away the pain. He yearned to curl a hand around his aching stomach, to reach down to the crotch of his pants and pull them away from his sensitive lips, but such an action wouldn’t be presidential at all. Instead, he took a deep breath and continued to waddle up to the senate.

The seats there were filled with his followers, each of them similarly straining out of their finely tailored suits. They seemed unusually restless. The lights above gleamed on their strangely sweaty, pinched faces. 

“Several of them said they weren’t feeling well today sir,” his assistant noted at his side. “I told them to come anyway, if they still valued their career. They should all be here.”

Donald nodded, watching and waiting, breathing carefully through his continued cramps, until the last seat was full. 

Finally came Elon, waddling up the aisle. His face was oddly red and sweaty. He wore a gray Make America Great Again shirt, which strained over his torpedo-shaped belly, failing to fully cover it. A stripe of veiny, stretch mark-laced pale skin peaked out between the bottom of the shirt and Elon’s black pants. The t-shirt and suit coat did far less to hide Elon’s changed body than the full suit the politicians were wearing, and seeing such a rich, powerful man marked as Trump’s and so clearly pregnant sent Donald’s privates tingling.

The meeting began once Elon sat next to Trump shifting uncomfortably by him. Politician after politician stood up and talked about their plans for Project 2025, what was coming, how they could gain further power. Trump let the voices tune out as the pain and pressure in his stomach continued to mount. At his side, Elon was letting out little weak whines, and if Donald could have yanked his attention from his own pain, he would have noticed that Elon’s stomach visibly contracted each time Donald’s cramps hit.

The pain peaked to an agonizing amount. Trump moaned. Elon whimpered, curling around his stomach. So much pressure. Something inside him stung, stretching. Perhaps its the spell wearing off, Donald assumed, hoping that soon his anatomy would be returned to him. That would explain the leaking breasts, which had begun to show through his white shirt. The filling in them was simply leaving.

Then a senator in the back stood, screaming, “I can’t take this any more!” He stumbled a few steps awkwardly down his row, then stopped. Simultaneously, Donald’s own cramp increased in pain and pressure. He was going to die. That nasty woman had cursed him to die! And then, at the peak of the cramp, something snapped inside him. Water gushed out of him, staining his pants and running down his legs. An audible pop filled the room, followed by the dripping of water from the cunts and pants of nearly 300 congressmen.

There was a moment of terror as each man frantically tried to hide the fact that he’d practically just peed his pants, then a moment of relief as he realized the man next to him had as well. Then panic as each of them stood, looking around. 

Then came the next contraction. Without the cushioning of the waters, without the need to hide their pregnancy from their equally knocked-up colleagues, as one they screamed in pain. The urge to push came upon them, and they obeyed nature’s demands. 

On the podium, Trump watched in horror as each of his followers crouched as one and bore down. He felt the need himself, but refused it. They might give birth here in public, but he would not. He was the president. 

As soon as that first all consuming contraction died down, he got to his feet and began, bow-legged, to wobble away past Elon who had slipped from his chair, down to his knees, cradling his stomach and sobbing. Trump paused for a minute, torn between yearning to watch that man give birth and the dreaded knowledge of his own imminent birth. 

Trump reached toward him. “Come with me,” he said.

Elon looked up, then another contraction hit. He cried out and pushed with all his might. Trump, busy fighting against his own contraction, missed the distinct bulge in Elon’s pants which faded as soon as the thin, red faced nazi stopped pushing.

Elon, lost to the pain and panic of the moment, was clearly lost. Trump could not do the same. He staggered away, until he reached the stairs. He got down two stairs before the next contraction came. He could not press his legs together as he had in the past, and he felt the child move inside of him. The pressure from the double binder made the whole thing agonizing. He needed to take off his shirt, needed to take off everything. But he couldn’t in front of his followers.

The pain of the contraction decreased and Trump continued down the stairs, stance just a little wider than before. More pain, more pressure hit just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He groaned, pressing his legs together, telling himself not to push, but even so the baby moved, stretching his insides. 

With shaking legs, Donald continued on, stumbling down the aisle, past his supporters, many of whom had stripped their jackets and pants. Trump passed one man, Mike Lee, who was laying in the aisle. He’d stripped his pants and boxers, and lay with his legs spread. His lips were reddened, bulging with a massive head of black hair as big as Trump’s fist. As Donald stopped to breathe through another contraction, he watched the head grow and grow as the red-faced man pushed, then recede as the contraction stopped.

Looking up at Trump, Mike Lee reached for him, whispered, “Help me.”

But there was no time for helping him, even if Donald was of the mind to. Seizing on the break between contractions, Donald tried to hurry down the aisle, but he couldn’t quite see where his feet were landing with his massive stomach in the way.

His foot hit Mike Lee’s outstretched leg, and Donald went tumbling. He struck the ground belly first, triggering a massive contraction. He screamed as the baby he’d been holding in so far shot through the rest of his canal and breached his lips.

Sweating and gasping, Donald reached for the nearest seat. He tried to pull himself up, but that involved engaging his core, which pushed the baby just a little further out. Fire lit around his privates, and he gasped, immediately disengaging his core and flopping back to the ground. The head receded back inside, just behind his swollen, sensitive lips. 

He tried several times to rise without engaging his core, but couldn’t quite manage. Another contraction hit, and Mike Lee screamed at his side, spreading his legs further, the baby’s head shooting out of his new vagina in a gush of fluid which spread across Donald’s already wet shoes. 

Desperate, Donald gave up on getting up and began to crawl on shaking arms and legs down the aisle, a slight bulge in his pants. From this angle, he got to see all his supporters in varying stages of undress and delivery.

Finally, several contractions later, back aching, Trump reached the doors. He reached up to the handle, and tried to twist it, but it didn’t move.

No.

Another contraction hit.

Despite trying not to push, Trump’s lips parted around the head. He gasping at the stinging. Using the handle, he pulled himself to his feet, engaging his core and pushing in the process. His baby moved, shooting out after all this time of denying it, into a near-full crown. He screamed, his legs wobbled. Only by holding onto the door did he manage to not collapse. 

As soon as the contraction ended, he wobbled to the next door, bow-legged. With each step his too-tight pants pushed the baby’s head just a little bit more inside, easing the sting, though the sensation of the baby going back felt exceedingly wrong.

He reached the next door just as the next contraction hit. The baby moved again, despite his best attempts, though his pants pushed the head back in as soon as the contraction ended. Then he tried that handle. It too was locked.

He looked up at the next door, and saw a senator, collapsed beside it, giving birth on his side, moaning as he tried to wiggle out his baby’s shoulders. 

They were locked in. There was no way out.

Desperate, Trump began pounding on the door, calling for his security team. He pounded and pounded, throat raw, through two more contractions. The pressure. The pain. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Gasping, he slipped off his suit coat, then grabbed his collared shirt and began to tear it off. The shirt resisted at first, then the over-strained buttons popped and the shirt parted, revealing the double binders and his large stomach and chest. 

Another contraction hit, and Trump sank to his knees, giving up, and finally, blessedly pushing. The baby moved. His lips stung. Somewhere in the room, a chorus of baby’s first screams filled the musty, sex-scented air. 

Then the contraction ended. The pressure was terrible. And it was so, so hot. With trembling hands, Donald reached for the hem of his binders and pulled them both up in a desperate tug. The pressure on his chest increased, but his stomach, at last, was free. It practically doubled in size, popping out of the restrictive binder. The skin was slick, shiny with sweat, and red. Veins stretched across his stomach, his belly button protruding from its peak. It was round in shape, beach-ball like, huge. How had he not realized he was pregnant before? It seemed so obvious staring at the shape of it.

He pushed with the next contraction, hard as he could, groaning with the effort, but the head didn’t move. Sweat dripped down his face, washing the bronzer and other make-up he wore off. His shirt collar and the binders beneath them, doubled up around his chest, were stained orange.

Another contraction, still no more progress. His lips were straining around the massive head, spreading him at a full crown, but it wasn’t moving. Then he realized. His pants.

They were still on!

With shaking fingers, he tried to get at his belt, to get his pants off. But he couldn’t manage it. Another fruitless contraction, and Donald screamed with the pain and frustration. He looked around for help, and that’s when he saw the C-span camera, pointed straight at him, the light blinking. It was on, though it shouldn’t have been, and was broadcasting Trump’s pleas for help, his birth, to the entire world.

Then another contraction hit, and he found he didn’t care. He’d do anything to get his pants off, to give birth, to finally give birth. He screamed for help, but everyone was too busy with their own births.

Then finally, blessedly, his assistant appeared. She looked down at him, totally unaffected by the chaos around her. She stood a moment and took in President Donald Trump’s appearance: his suit coat lost, his tie loosened, but still looped around his neck, his collared shirt ripped apart, parted around his massive straining stomach, his binders stained orange from his bronzer and sweat, layered over his chest, his suit pants still on, the crotch bulging obscenely from his baby’s massive head.

Donald didn’t remember her name, but he begged her anyway, to help him. 

She smiled, and knelt beside him. She ran a hand through his hair, then rested the other oh so gently on his round stomach. “All those women you raped, all the woman who were forced to give birth because you took away abortion, this is on you. Why should I help you, felon?”

Then her grin turned feral and she pushed down on Donald’s stomach with both hands. 

The pressure was enormous. Donald screamed in agony, tried to wriggle away, but couldn’t. Tears of pain leaked down his eyes. He couldn’t continue any more. He felt as though he were going to burst. Something had to give—

And then it did. The overtaxed seam of his suit pants gave in. His baby shot out to its ears, and Donald’s vision flashed white.

But the baby had moved. Progress, at long last. His boxers, light blue with little American flags on, were still on, but they were loose enough, he figured he could push the baby out of them.

Gasping for breath, he seized upon the next contraction. Except—the baby didn’t move. His assistant was kneeling next to him, holding the baby’s head in place.

“Let me give birth!” Donald demanded.

“Beg me,” she said.

Another contraction passed. Then another. Without movement. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he whispered as the next pain came upon him.

Then, while the contraction was still going, despite Donald pushing against her, she shoved the baby back inside, all the way, until his lips closed on the head. The baby kicked within him. Donald screamed in agony. His vision blanked.

Still he could hear her. “We’ve got to get these pants off you, then.” When he came too, his pants and boxers were discarded, as were both his binders. She’d replaced his collared shirt though, hit hung open, revealing his large breasts and rotund stomach. His red tie was back around his neck, restricting his breathing, dangling between his bare breasts.

He pushed with the next contraction, and the head, slowly, began to emerge once more. But he was exhausted. His head fell back and he gave up before the contraction ended. The head slipped back in, leaving only a teardrop of hair visible. 

As he worked, the cries of babies increased, all the other congressmen having long since succeeded in giving birth. He reached a full crown once more, pushed and felt the baby’s nose stretch past his purpled, swollen lips. Then, with a gush of fluid, the baby’s head was finally out.

“Oh good,” his assistant crooned. “You are nearly there.”

The shoulders shifted inside him. One popped out, then the other. If he thought the head was big, this seemed twice as large. It felt as though he’d split at the seams. Just one more push. Except, he pushed twice and the baby stayed there, lodged his canal, spreading him apart.

The assistant was there, holding the baby in place once again.

“Let go!” Trump gasped, then weaker. “Please.”

“Oh, did you want to give birth?” she asked, innocently, her fingers trailing around Trump’s sensitive, over-stretched lips.

Another contraction hit Donald, and he tried fruitlessly to push the baby’s massive shoulders out. “Please,” he repeated. “Anything, I’ll do anything.”

“Repeal every one of your executive orders,” she said. “Go on national television and tell people that the bishop was right. Become the best advocate we’ve ever had for trans rights, queer rights, women's rights, immigrants rights.”

“Never!” Trump hissed.

The assistant grinned and began pushing the baby back inside Trump, the shoulders once again enveloped by his canal, then its neck, then its cheeks. Trump screamed and writhed, but he was helpless. Completely at the woman’s mercy.

She paused when the baby was back at a full crown. “I could do this all day,” she warned.

“All right,” Trump gasped, “All right. Anything, please.”

The assistant nodded, then stood up, stepping away. She began to fade, becoming for a split second, the genie that had started all this. “Good,” she said before she disappeared, “Now be a good girl and birth that baby for America.”

Exhausted, surrounded by his sweaty supporters, Donald Trump obeyed.

[yourreddancer]

FROM PUBLIC CITIZEN

On Friday night, 50 United States senators — all of them Republicans — voted to put our nation’s security in the hands of a man who is laughably unqualified.

Except it could not be less funny.

With a tie-breaking vote from Vice President JD Vance, Pete Hegseth will now be Secretary of Defense.

Pete Hegseth isn’t qualified to be shift leader at a Dairy Queen (nothing against Dairy Queen). Putting him in charge of the entire United States military is a perversion — and every one of the 50 senators who voted for him knows it.

So why did they do it?

Because they were afraid that if they did the right thing and rejected Hegseth, Donald Trump would back someone else in their next election, and assistant president Elon Musk would spend millions to defeat them.

That’s why Trump defended his nominee so aggressively once news reports indicated how horrible Hegseth’s record is. It was a test. “Look how much they fear me.” “Look how willing they are to prostrate themselves at my feet.” “Look what I’ve turned them into.”

It’s really quite pathetic how craven and insecure they are.

Especially considering that even if they did lose their seats, ex-senators do pretty well. There are cushy positions on corporate boards or as high-paid lobbyists. There are deals to be had for books, podcasts, and speaking gigs. There are roles as pundits and hosts on Fox “News.” There are shady right-wing nonprofits and “think tanks” to run. There are car dealerships and cryptocurrencies to profit from. And on and on and on.

But no, these 50 senators were so afraid of Trump and so addicted to the illusion of political power (we say “illusion” because in reality they have forsaken any actual power in abject fealty to Trump) that they were willing to put Hegseth in charge of the $900 billion Pentagon, its 3 million employees, and all its warfighting capacity.

This is a man who has shown himself unable to run a small nonprofit. A man about whom there are credible reports of excessive drinking and out-of-control behavior. And a man against whom there are multiple allegations of sexual assault and domestic violence.

This is also a man who refused in his confirmation hearing to renounce the use of torture. A man who at his hearing was unaware of a major international alliance. And a man who has argued that women should not serve in combat roles.

Let’s not forget that for generations, it is Republicans who have held themselves out as the party that supports the military and is “strong on defense.”

In case you think your senator would never jeopardize America’s national security, here are the 50 Republican senators who just sold out our troops, our veterans, and our country:

Jim Banks, Indiana John Barrasso, Wyoming Marsha Blackburn, Tennessee John Boozman, Arkansas Katie Britt, Alabama Ted Budd, North Carolina Shelley Capito, West Virginia Bill Cassidy, Louisiana John Cornyn, Texas Tom Cotton, Arkansas Kevin Cramer, North Dakota Michael Crapo, Idaho Ted Cruz, Texas John Curtis, Utah Steve Daines, Montana Joni Ernst, Iowa Deb Fischer, Nebraska Lindsey Graham, South Carolina Charles Grassley, Iowa Bill Hagerty, Tennessee Joshua Hawley, Missouri John Hoeven, North Dakota Jon Husted, Ohio Cindy Hyde-Smith, Mississippi Ron Johnson, Wisconsin Jim Justice, West Virginia John Kennedy, Louisiana James Lankford, Oklahoma Mike Lee, Utah Cynthia Lummis, Wyoming Roger Marshall, Kansas Dave McCormick, Pennsylvania Ashley Moody, Florida Jerry Moran, Kansas Bernie Moreno, Ohio Markwayne Mullin, Oklahoma Rand Paul, Kentucky Pete Ricketts, Nebraska James Risch, Idaho Mike Rounds, South Dakota Eric Schmitt, Missouri Rick Scott, Florida Tim Scott, South Carolina Tim Sheehy, Montana Dan Sullivan, Alaska John Thune, South Dakota Thom Tillis, North Carolina Tommy Tuberville, Alabama Roger Wicker, Mississippi Todd Young, Indiana

(Here are the three Republican senators who did not vote for the charlatan: Susan Collins, Maine; Mitch McConnell, Kentucky; Lisa Murkowski, Alaska.)

If you are feeling angry and/or fearful about what it will mean to have someone as devastatingly unqualified and dangerous as Pete Hegseth running the Department of Defense, join Public Citizen in a message to the 50 senators who just voted for exactly that.

Those who serve in uniform, our nation’s veterans, the hundreds of thousands of civilians who work in the military, and — most crucially of all — every single American deserve better (far better) than Pete Hegseth. You have put us all in harm’s way for no reason other than your own cowardice in the face of Donald Trump. Shame on you.

Click to add your name now.

Thanks for taking action.

For progress,

- Robert Weissman & Lisa Gilbert, Co-Presidents of Public Citizen

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at Think Big Picture:

For years, critics of Vladimir Putin have been warning that the Russians have taken over parts of the Republican Party. They raised the alarm as Republicans defended the Russian leader, parroted clear Kremlin talking points, and became mules for disinformation campaigns. In recent weeks, that criticism has shifted to include not just Republicans who have left the party, including former representatives Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger, but current GOP members. Recently, two powerful Republican chairs of the House Intelligence Committee and the House Foreign Affairs Committee warned openly about how Russian propaganda has seeped into their party and even made its way into speeches on the House floor. Other members are now even openly questioning whether some of their fellow officials have been compromised and are being extorted. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) suggested in a recent interview that the Russian spies may possess compromising tapes of some of his colleagues. It’s unclear where he’s getting his information or how accurate it is.

And then there’s this: According to a report by Politico, a number of European politicians were recently paid by Moscow to interfere in the upcoming EU elections by Russians pretending to be a “media” outlet called “Voice of Europe.” The Kremlin-backed operation used money to influence officials to take pro-Russian stances. Authorities have conducted some money seizures and launched an investigation into which members of the European Parliament may have accepted cash bribes. This in turn raises an important question for our own politics: Are the Russians doing the same with U.S. politicians, directly or indirectly? This piece walks through the three types of compromise—disinformation, extortion, and bribery—to give a sense of what we know and what we don’t really know, and, importantly, where we should be on our guard. As this summary will show, from the 2016 election till now, there’s enough Russian smoke now to assume there is a fire, one that compromises not only the integrity of our own system of elections, but the safety and security of the free world. Duped.

Over the past year, we have witnessed two distinct kinds of Russian propaganda in action. Both use our own elected officials and intelligence processes to amplify and even weaponize disinformation. The first kind originates online through Russian-backed internet channels. Information operatives begin spreading false rumors, for example about Ukraine, that then get repeated within right-wing silos before reaching willing purveyors of it within the halls of Congress. A chief culprit in Congress is Georgia’s Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene. Among the Russian-originated false narratives she has uplifted is the patently false claim that Ukraine is waging a war against Christianity while Russia is protecting it. On Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast, Greene even claimed, without evidence, that Ukraine is “executing priests.”

Where would Greene have gotten this wild, concocted notion? We don’t have to look far. Russian talking points have included this gaslighting narrative for some time. The twist, of course, is that, according to the International Religious Freedom or Belief Alliance, it is the Russian army that has been torturing and executing priests and other religious figures, including 30 Ukrainian clergy killed and 26 held captive by Russian forces. The Russians have also targeted Baptists, whom they see as U.S. propagandists, according to an in-depth Time magazine piece on the violence and death directed toward evangelicals. The Congressional propaganda mouthpieces for Russia aren’t limited to the U.S. House. Over in the Senate, Ohio Senator J.D. Vance was also recently accused of spreading Kremlin-backed disinformation about Ukraine, this time over spurious allegations that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy siphoned U.S. aid to purchase himself two luxury yachts.

[...]

The accusation that Russians are presently extorting and blackmailing U.S. politicians into supporting Russia’s agenda has some broad appeal. It would help explain some mysteries, including why people like Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) suddenly is no longer as supportive of Ukraine as before and constantly kisses the ring of Donald Trump these days—after presciently saying in 2016 that the GOP would destroy itself if it nominated him. 

The problem has been that these accusations aren’t supported by much evidence. That means that political extortion by the Russians is either not a very prevalent practice, or it’s so effective that no one dares expose it. Either way, we’re left without much to go on. The Russian word kompromat came into common parlance around the time that Buzzfeed published a salacious story about another intelligence report back in early 2017. In that instance, the author, a former British intelligence officer named Christopher Steele, was concerned Russia had compromising data on the soon-to-be president, Donald Trump.

That report never wound up being substantiated, and its sources and funding came into question as well. But intelligence agencies are in general agreement that obtaining kompromat is standard practice by Russia, and someone like Trump could have been an easy mark considering the company that he kept (e.g. Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell) and the projects he was involved with (e.g. the Miss Universe contest). Lately, the notion of kompromat emerged once again, this time not from Democratic-paid outfits but from within the GOP itself. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) is one of the more “colorful” characters within the GOP, primarily known lately for being one of the eight members who voted to oust former Speaker Kevin McCarthy and even for getting into public jostling and shouting matches with McCarthy.

The Republican Party (or at least its pro-MAGA faction) is compromised by Russian kompromat.

[shadowmaat]

Thanks for the Lift

Corrie Week, Day 5: Fix-It (major character death, but it's only Palpatine)

-

Fox heard the noise from his office. The grinding screech of tortured metal was accompanied by a vibration that knocked over a stack of datapads on his desk. He knew, instinctively, what had happened and was already out the door before the first shouts.

The Corrie's lift was a death trap and everyone knew it. It groaned and rattled even at the best of times, but it was the easiest way to get to the Guard sector. Even so, most chose to take the stairs or come around from the outside of the building unless they were in a hurry.

There was already a small crowd gathered around the lift doors. They were still closed, but a huge gash had sheared through the reinforced metal and smoke was leaking through it.

"Don't just stand there!" Fox snapped at the gawkers. "Get those doors open! There could be an injured trooper in there!"

It was a lie and they all knew it; if anyone had been onboard there was little chance they'd survived. That didn't mean they couldn't hope and try.

His sibs jumped into action, two of them running for the heavy equipment locker while the rest gathered to try and open the doors through brute force.

Rattle stood nearby, swaying on her feet. Her armor rattled worse than usual.

"Rattle, you okay?" Fox walked into her line of sight. Her helmet was off, dropped to the floor beside her, and her eyes didn't seem to track him.

"Lieutenant Rattle! Report!"

She shuddered, snapping to attention and firing off a salute on sheer muscle memory.

"Sir!" She fixed her eyes on him. "I was waiting for the lift! I heard..." Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, her eyes wide and shining. "I heard a scream," she whispered, voice squeaking.

Fuck. Fox pulled his helmet off and looked her in the eye.

"It's alright, Rattle." He kept his voice soft as he reached out, cupping the back of her neck. She twitched, but didn't look away.

"There's nothing you could have done. The important thing is that you're safe, yeah?"

"I... I don't..."

"I do know," Fox assured her, briefly pressing his forehead against hers. "Now, go check in with Nudge. Tell him what happened and make sure he's ready for whatever we find."

"I... yeah."

The strength seemed to come back to her. "Yessir," she said, nodding acknowledgement of the order. "I'll do that!"

She fast-marched down the hall toward the infirmary, so Fox turned his attention to the current disaster.

How many repair requests had he sent about this damn lift? Always rejected. Always ignored. He'd even taken the chance of mentioning it to the Chancellor once, only to be given a patronizing excuse about the "war budget" and "money goes where it's needed most." Probably right into the coffers of the warmongering Senators.

And now someone was dead because of it.

Fox channeled his rage into helping. The doors had been knocked off their tracks and wouldn't budge more than an inch or two, but Nubs and Burke soon returned with the hydraulic rescue tool and they were able to pry open the broken doors.

Helmet-mounted floodlights revealed more of the carnage. Dangling wires sparked and flakes of metal glittered. The permacrete interior of the shaft was scored and crumbling in places. The only thing missing, however, was the car that had fallen.

"Did it... did it crash right through the floor?" Burke asked.

This was supposed to be the bottom level in this part of the building. There shouldn't be any more down to go. And yet the hole where the bottom of the shaft should have been swallowed up their lights.

"No sign of floor for it to crash through," Fox observed, which was irritating. He was supposed to know the layout of the entire Senate, dammit. He'd downloaded all the schematics, old and new, so he could be sure no one could break in through hidden passages. And yet here was a hidden passage right in their Storms-damned territory.

After a brief but intense discussion, climbing gear was retrieved from storage and Fox led a team down into the unexplored depths below them.

The shaft continued down a long way. Long enough that he was getting concerned about running out of rope before their lights finally reflected off the remains of the damaged lift.

Recovery began. Equipment was hauled down to them and the broken remains were photographed, catalogued, and hauled back up out of the way. Spur and his forensics team were being meticulous about everything. Not that anything would come of it, of course. No one would care about the death of a single trooper, even one who'd been the victim of faulty equipment.

Fox oversaw it all, as was his duty, and was first into the destroyed car once Spur declared the scene stable.

There wasn't any way to identify the remains. Whoever it was hadn't even been in armor. Fox said a few words while Spur collected samples and sent them up for analysis.

"Uh... sir?"

Burke's voice was strained over the comm.

"I think... I think you'll want to see this, sir."

Fox couldn't get a ping on Burke's location, but a gap in the doors showed that he'd likely gone exploring whatever space was at the true bottom of the shaft.

"It better not be more dead bodies."

"Uh..."

The hesitation was ominous.

Fox let Spur know where he was going and wriggled through the broken doorway into a large open space.

There was lighting down here. Good lighting. Fox almost wished it wasn't.

There were tanks with... things floating in them. It looked like something out of a scene from one of those damned horror flicks Thire loved. Some of the shapes were humanoid and gave him bad flashbacks to Kamino. Others were more confusing. One contained the embalmed head of a muun, displayed like a trophy.

"This looks like weird shit, Burke," Fox said.

"Sorry, sir," Burke replied.

Fox hated weird shit. And it was just his luck that Coruscant seemed to be Weird Shit Central.

That's when he noticed the transplas box in front of the head. The transplas box that contained contained a metal cylinder with an ignition switch.

"Garbage detail for a month, Burke."

When his attempt to contact Thire failed, he headed back to the shaft, not as surprised as he should have been that as soon as he squeezed through the doors he had a signal again.

"Thire, we've got a problem," he said, switching to private comm.

"That's a fucking understatement. They're gonna pin this on us, you know."

Fox frowned. "What? How the hell were we supposed to know about a secret lab that wasn't on any of the schematics?"

"Secret lab? I'm talking about Chancellor Pastepatine. You know, the body in the lift?"

Fox closed his eyes and counted to ten. It didn't help.

"So we have a dead Chancellor who should never have been on that lift, a secret nightmare lab at the bottom of that lift, and some kind of Jedi shit, based on the lightsaber I just found?

Thire swore, long and hard.

"That's it," Fox said. "I'm calling the Jedi."

"You're calling the Jedi?" Thire repeated.

"This isn't just weird shit, it's weird Jedi shit and I'm going to dump the whole thing in their laps and go on holiday somewhere on the Outer Rim."

Thire scoffed. "Good luck with that. Be sure to send a holocard."

-

Fox didn't get his vacation, of course. But he and the Guard were absolved in the death of the Chancellor; all the repair requests he'd submitted helped prove that.

The Jedi swarmed the lab, and each secret they uncovered seemed to be more horrible than the last. High General Windu himself was put in charge of the media circus regarding the death of the Chancellor, although a lot of important details were left out of the things he had to say.

Like the fact that the Chancellor was a Sith. And that he'd been playing both sides of the war. And that the clones were an unwitting part of his grand conspiracy to seize power.

Contrary to popular belief, Fox didn't hate the Jedi, he'd just never seen much use in them. Until now. Now he was very, very grateful that they were on his side. Maybe he'd even let that Orve kid join the Guard, since it seemed the war was going to be winding down soon.

Maybe just a little bit of weird shit, once in a while, could be a good thing after all.

[battleangel]

FREE PALESTINE MOVEMENT FAILED

What Hasnt Worked

•Calling Congress members

•Calling Senator

•Signing online petitions

•Attending marches, protests & rallies

•Sharing, resharing, commenting posts online

•None of the above has led to an official arms embargo or permanent ceasefire agreement.

The Ongoing Genocidal Issue

•Per Lancet, 200k Palestinian civilians have been killed by Israel in the genocide since last October including over 40k children.

•Over 20k Palestinian children are missing with many of the missing children being trafficked into sex trafficking rings.

•Tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians remain buried under tons of rubble which will take years to clear.

•Forced starvation & famine perpetrated by Israel continues in Palestine with millions of Palestinians at risk of dying of starvation.

•Winter has arrived in Palestine & Palestinian civilians — including infants — are freezing to death in tents without electricity, heat and some are even without blankets in single digit temperatures.

•Multiple Palestinian infants — some only days old — have died of heart attacks due to the constant, severe, relentless, maniacal bombing by Israel.

•There are images & videos of injured, wounded & dying Palestinian civilians being devoured alive by dogs & cats who are themselves being starved by the genocidal Israeli occupational forces.

•The last functioning hospital in North Gaza — Kamal Adwan Hospital — was besieged by Israel two days ago.

•The doctors & patients at Kamal Adwan Hospital were forcibly evacuated — including critically ill patients on oxygen support & nebulizers.

•The patients at Kamal Adwan Hospital were told they would be evacuated to another hospital via ambulance.

•There have not been reports yet of what happened to the doctors at Kamal Adwan Hospital but the Director of the hospital has been detained.

•Israel did this to another Palestinian hospital only a few months ago — Al-Shifa Hospital.

•It is clear that the IOF will follow the same playbook with Kamal Adwan Hospital — the doctors will be detained, arrested, abused, & tortured — then some of the doctors will be killed & the remaining doctors will be released.

•The infants at Al-Shifa Hospital were left behind by the IOF and there were subsequent videos & images of the deceased infants decomposing corpses.

•It is obvious the same fate awaits the now forcibly evacuated doctors & patients from Kamal Adwan Hospital.

Effective Activism?

•What is effective beyond current BDS (Boycott Divest Sanctions) strategy targeting Chevron, AXA, Siemens, etc. — which has not yet worked?

•As Israels genocide continues unabated, unimpeded & continuously funded by & with weapons provided by the United States.

•Over a year into the onslaught, Israel continues to expand its genocidal aggression to include Occupied Palestinian Territory (OPT) — North Gaza, South Gaza, Rafah, West Bank, East Jerusalem; Lebanon; Syria; Yemen & Iran.

Suggested Actions

Action #1: Mass Strike

•Suggestion: A general strike in the United States where 3.5% of the working population or 11 million Americans strike.

•Action Item: Sign the general strike card:

https://generalstrikeus.com/strikecard?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaYrjr4EPUbi7STRSXWejtl9t9axeG70svJcfMCLULy-4OvrHdOWS3EKUBk_aem_0wjAyUoBvXmGBEUR8rVtrA

Action #2: Suing US Government for Genocide

•Suggestion: US citizens in all 50 states follow Californias lead & file lawsuits against their respective state governments for providing “Israeli military aid to support the genocide in Gaza” which violated the constitutional rights of their constituents by using their taxes “for the unlawful purpose of complicity in genocide.”

•Action Item: Read the lawsuit below, track its progress & determine if you can file a similar lawsuit in your home state.

COURT: N.D. Cal.

TRACK DOCKET: No. 3:24-cv-09213 (Bloomberg Law subscription)

Where does pro-Palestine movement go from here?

•We have all been doing the same exact things for over a year with exactly zero results & extremely minimal “wins”(Maersk, cities divesting their bonds, etc.) — but no official arms embargo & no permanent ceasefire agreement.

•Hundreds of thousands of Palestinian civilians have been slaughtered, starved, literally scared to death via heart attack due to relentless bombing, shot at point blank range in the heart, head & stomach including children & infants, burned alive in tents, buried alive in mass graves, tortured in detention centers.

•Children & infants butchered, women murdered, men slaughtered, disabled & elderly civilians ran over by tanks…

•It isnt enough to share & reshare images & videos of the genocide, tweet your support for Palestine, call your Congress members & Senators, sign online petitions, attend rallies marches protests & die-ins — we have all been doing exactly this day in & day out for over a year yet there is STILL no official arms embargo & no permanent ceasefire agreement.

At a Year Plus — Whats Next?

•Along with continuing BDS (boycott divest sanction) efforts as they have been proven to work in the past against the apartheid government in South Africa in the 80s & 90s —

•Along with signing the strike card & striking if you economically & financially can —

•Along with researching the possibility of filing a lawsuit against your elected state officials in your individual state for voting for funding for Israel which violates our constitutional rights as United States constituents as it is using our tax payer dollars “for the unlawful purpose of complicity in genocide” —

Dont Just Reshare Videos — Think

•Lets also ask ourselves what else we can do in this moment beyond just resharing videos on Instagram & Twitter.

•We need to do everything in our power to bring about an official arms embargo & permanent ceasefire agreement.

What Can We Do?

•Share this post. Comment this post with your own ideas. Tag pro-Pali accounts in the comments.

No Complacency During Genocide

•Palestinian civilians continue to be burned alive, buried alive, shot at point blank range in the head heart & stomach, tortured, traumatized, starved to death, repeatedly forcibly evacuated, relentlessly bombed, endlessly humiliated, threatened, intimidated, coerced, gaslit, imprisoned, subjugated, repressed, cut into pieces, dismembered & literally devoured alive by starved dogs & cats.

•We cant allow ourselves to fall into a complacent repetitive lull of “watch reshare retweet wash rinse repeat”.

•What can we do to actually bring about an official arms embargo & permanent ceasefire agreement?

•We have “raised awareness” online, marched, protested, rallied, died in & birddogged — it hasnt worked.

•We need to do more.

•Comment. Share. Think!

•🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸 🍉🍉🍉❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[girlactionfigure]

🟠TORTURE, UNRWA, ANTI-ISRAEL COALITION - Real time from Israel  

▪️HOSTAGE TORTURE - a topic we have avoided due to the sensitivity.  The three hostages returned yesterday spoke of harsh conditions in captivity, a lack of food, and how they were constantly taken from place to place by Hamas terrorists - above and below ground, held in cages during their captivity, and experienced physical and mental abuse.

The terrorists would beat them for no reason, and there were days when they deliberately put them in dark places, even when they were in above-ground shelters, to disrupt their sense of time.

One of the female hostages described how she was hung upside down and beaten, while the torturer laughed about how Israel had provided his daughter with medical treatment saving her life while beating.

▪️EGYPTIAN MILITARY BUILDUP - The Americans have begun investigating the violation of the agreement with Israel and demanded explanations from the Egyptians - at the same time, Israel is increasing intelligence gathering in the region and not waiting for the Americans. (News 14)

▪️PM IN WASHINGTON - The Prime Minister has landed in Washington. Tomorrow the meeting with Trump Middle East envoy Witkoff, the day after a meeting with Trump.  Also on the schedule - a meeting with families of the hostages, and meetings with senior figures in Congress and the Senate.

▪️HAMAS COMPLAINS - A delegation of senior Hamas terrorist organization officials met with Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan in Doha, Qatar.  Hamas accused Israel: “the occupation's delay in implementing the provisions of the humanitarian protocol, especially on basic issues such as the introduction of tents, prefabricated houses (trailers), fuel and the reconstruction of hospitals, water wells and heavy equipment.”

▪️DRILL - UPPER GALILEE - A military exercise will begin today (Monday) from morning until noon in the Upper Galilee region. As part of the exercise, there will be a lot of movement of vehicles and security personnel in the area.  IT’S A DRILL.

▪️SIREN TEST - HERZLIYA - 11:05 in Herzliya Central and at 11:10 in Herzliya West. IT’S A TEST.

▪️GAZA CITY MAYOR SAYS - “80% of the city's infrastructure was destroyed as a result of the war.”

▪️ANOTHER GUN SMUGGLER - after spotting police, a smuggler began throwing pistols out his car window.  13 Glock pistols recovered on Route 6 by the Yokneam tunnels, smuggler captured, a “resident of the south”.

▪️UNRWA - now illegal to operate in Israel or in contact with any Israeli govt. agency.  Members of parliament from 14 different European countries appealed to the UN Secretary-General demanding that "UNRWA be removed from the UN agencies.

.. Foreign Ministers of Britain, France and Germany decried the cessation of UNRWA's activities in Israel and therefore lack of services in Jerusalem. The Min. Of Jerusalem Porush replied: "Your statement does not correspond to reality. The services we provide to the residents of East Jerusalem are much better than the poor services of UNRWA. The entire municipal territory of Jerusalem is under Israeli sovereignty, and as such all municipal services there are handled by the Jerusalem Municipality. I regret that you chose to publish a statement without real familiarity with the situation on the ground.”

▪️JUSTICE vs. ELECTED REPRESENTATIVES - The Attorney General in a message to PM Netanyahu: I will oppose the reappointment of Ben Gvir as minister.  If you consider reappointing Ben Gvir as minister, you will be required to re-examine whether he is disqualified.

▪️VERSUS ISRAEL - First publication: 9 countries in S. America and Africa announced the establishment of a group that will fight Israel on the international stage, press for the arrest warrants for Israeli officials to be carried out, and declare the imposition of economic sanctions.

♦️SAMARIA - Al-Ain, Shechem: Arab reports, a fierce exchange of fire between the terrorists and IDF forces.

[southeastasianists]

The Philippines is known as a country that supports political dynasties, and powerful clans have played a major role in the country’s politics for decades. But in the last week of June, Vice President Sara Duterte made an announcement that rocked the nation as her family appears to be gearing up to take political dynasties to the next level. On June 28, the vice president confirmed that her father, Former President Rodrigo Duterte, and her brothers, Davao First District Rep. Paolo Duterte and Davao City Mayor Sebastian Duterte, will all run for senator in the 2025 elections. 

Social media is all abuzz with news of this development, with those supporting the Duterte camp ecstatic at the possibility of having all three Dutertes in the Senate. However, those who are staunchly against this have been equally loud on Twitter and Facebook, calling the country’s political system a joke. As one of the most influential political families in the country have benefited from the results of a well-executed social media strategy in the last presidential elections, Filipinos can expect that the Internet will once again turn into an all-out war zone in the coming months. But can social media bring about the downfall of political dynasties, or will it take them to new heights? Here’s what you need to know about the influence of social media on political dynasties in the Philippines. 

Social Media Brought the Marcoses Back to Power

For two decades, Filipinos had to submit to the rules of Ferdinand Marcos’ regime as the former president enforced Martial Law. Historians attest that his dictatorship resulted in over 3,000 extrajudicial killings and more than 30,000 tortures, apart from other human rights violations. The Marcoses also infamously stole $5 to $10 billion from the Central Bank of the Philippines as stated in the documents provided by the Presidential Commission on Good Government. 

After the assassination of opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr., Marcos was blamed for his death. The family immediately fell from grace as Aquino’s supporters joined hands to support his widow, Corazon Aquino, during the People Power Revolution of 1986. Mrs. Aquino became the new President of the Philippines, while the Marcoses were exiled in Hawaii. In 1989, the matriarch, Imelda, as well as Marcos’ children were allowed to return to the country, and from there, they started planning their political comeback. Their return to politics started with Imelda winning a congressional seat in 1995, while her children, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. and Imee Marcos, won positions in local government. 

After Bongbong was elected as a senator in the 2010 elections, it was only a matter of time before he decided to run in the presidential elections. In 2022, Bongbong was up against nine other presidential candidates, the most notable being Leni Robredo, who was the Vice President at that time. It was reported that social media campaigns to discredit Robredo, a strong disinformation campaign, and online efforts to revise history contributed to Bongbong’s win, putting the Marcoses firmly back in power. That election year was one of the most divisive times in Philippine history, as it resulted in the falling out of families, the shut down of a major TV network, and increased hostility in social media platforms. 

Political Dynasties and Their Hold on Social Media

Political analysts are saying that the Philippines is where it is right now because certain politicians have turned public office into family businesses. With everyone complaining about the ever-increasing prices of commodities, lack of jobs, and non-stop graft and corruption for so many years now, many would think that Filipinos should have had enough of political families by this time. However, with politicians becoming social media savvy in recent years, it’s likely that more political dynasties will rise in the future. With the majority of Filipinos perpetually online, it’s likely that political clans will take to the Internet to gather support for their family members who are vying for a place in politics.

Other than the Dutertes, political analyst Edmund Tayao predicts that there will be more families running together in the upcoming senate elections. Siblings Pia and Alan Cayetano currently have seats in the senate, and so do Cynthia Villar and her son Mark. They are all projected to run for reelection in 2025. Meanwhile, 3 members of the Tulfo family, which has four members in congress, are also said to run in the senate elections. Their bid for a senate seat will be confirmed upon the filing of Certificates of Candidacy in October.

Countering Political Misinformation on Social Media

Certain influencers have found ways to spread disinformation on social media as a way to promote some political families, but anti-disinformation advocates have also taken to TikTok and Facebook to fight political misinformation. Genealogist Mona Magno-Veluz is one such TikTok personality who is actively battling historical and political misinformation. There’s also the local civic society organization Break the Fake movement, which regularly holds seminars to train influencers to fact-check their sources. 

AI tools have also been used by fact-checking initiatives such as FactsFirstPH to fight disinformation. Meanwhile, to inform the youth about election-related information, nonprofit corporation Pinas Forward created the E-Boto website, which contains background information for all national candidates, presented in a Gen Z-friendly, TikTok style.

Can Social Media Eradicate Political Dynasties in the Philippines?

Social media has made it easier to access information, but it has also created opportunities to spread disinformation and propaganda techniques to sway the results of elections. Knowing how to distinguish facts from lies, and putting a stop to historical revisionism can protect Filipinos from repeating past mistakes. Fact-checking information, hearing the opinions of a diverse group of people, and educating the public about the dangers of disinformation, fear mongering, hate speech, and cyberbullying may all help to boost the nation’s media literacy and prevent political families from dominating in the upcoming elections. 

But as long as Filipinos keep voting for candidates who share the same beliefs and principles as their family members who are in power, no amount of protests on Facebook or Twitter can change the country’s political landscape. As proven by the current administration, social media will continue to be a valuable tool for political dynasties jockeying for power. After all, it helped a once shunned family to regain their place in politics, so no one should be surprised if it enables multiple family members – even those who are blatantly unqualified – to be elected into public office. 

Nina Sumsy Nina Sumsy is a freelance writer with a background in journalism

[walkawaytall]

sometimes when you're supposed to be finishing the multichapter you've been working on for a year and a half and you are just so close you can practically taste it, you end up writing the prologue for an Organa Twins AU that's probably not going anywhere?

(But also might be something because I've already thought of how I want Luke, Han, and Chewie rescuing Leia from the Death Star to go down in this AU and it's real fun.)

“Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept.”

“We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence.”

“My wife and I will take the babies. We've always talked of adopting. They will be loved with us.”

*****

When it came to disappearing entirely, Tatooine was as good a place as any. Ben Kenobi harbored no particular fondness for the planet, but it offered the sort of anonymity that was difficult to come by closer to the Core, and being in Hutt Space guaranteed some separation from Imperial officials.

Tatooine was also where it had all gone wrong and, as such, was the only place Ben could hope to find answers regarding how to prevent such a tragedy from occurring again.

He was running out of time, though he had felt that way for nearly two decades. Two decades spent under the torturous heat of twin suns, searching for a why or a how. Two decades befriending his nearest neighbors in hopes that he would discover something that made what he knew make sense, that he might hear a story or a description preceded by Shmi said he always… that would cause everything to fit together.

Two decades paying penance for every move he had made that culminated in Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side.

It shouldn’t have taken two decades. He was supposed to have moved on, was supposed to have started training the children on some other backwater planet where they were unlikely to be discovered. In fact, Bail Organa had contacted him nearly ten years prior to inform him that, after months of careful observation, he and his wife, Breha, had determined that their daughter, Leia, was exceptionally good at keeping secrets — “not just good for a ten-year-old; good by any metric.” Leia’s twin, Luke, was…improving in that area, and should be adequately trained by the time the school term ended. They were preparing the children for a change in scenery for their instruction. What month did he think was best to begin?

That month certainly hadn’t been a good one, nor was the next. Ben still hadn’t determined what exact course of events had caused Anakin’s fall. He didn’t know if there was something genetically malevolent about the Skywalker line or if Anakin’s surroundings had played a significant part in his embracing of the Dark Side. If he didn’t know what caused it, how could he possibly prevent it from happening to another Padawan? How could he prevent Luke and Leia from turning?

Really, the entire year had ended up being bad timing, as had the next and the next. When Bail contacted him mere days after the twins’ fifteenth birthday, Ben had been fairly certain he would be ready the next time his old friend commed.

But he didn’t comm.

Ben didn’t pay much mind to the silence. He assumed Bail or Breha would get in touch again if they truly thought the children ready, and by then, Ben would be ready, too.

The next time he saw Bail’s face wasn’t through direct contact, but via a galactic news report being shown in a local cantina. The viceroy was announcing the date of his retirement from the Galactic Senate. He confirmed that, after an apparent landslide victory in an election on Alderaan, the pale young woman with big, brown eyes standing next to him would take his place.

Ben could hardly look at her for more than a few seconds before focusing his attention back on Bail. She looked like her mother.

He wondered how Bail could manage having the living, breathing reminder of the loss of Padme stare across the breakfast table at him every day. He could barely stand the mere memory of her ultimate fate. He still had dreams about her sixteen years after she’d breathed her final breaths, dreams in which she lived, dreams in which she died in a variety of ways, dreams in which she joined Anakin as he had wanted her to.

Leia spoke calmly and clearly, with fire simmering just under the surface of every word that reminded him simultaneously of all of her parents, both biological and adopted. Breha and Bail had clearly trained her to communicate well, though she possessed her own sort of easy charm and wry wit that Ben had no doubt had endeared her to the public.

He wondered about the boy, wondered what Luke was up to while his sister shackled herself to the impossible ideal of equitable politics. Bail had mentioned something about him learning to fly larger ships the last time they had spoken, and Ben had briefly wondered if the children were involved in the insurgent activity that he knew Bail continued to engage in.

Surely not. Bail and Breha were devoted to their causes, but they had always been protective of their children. They wouldn’t allow such young people to involve themselves in something as dangerous as the rebellion.

In the more than three years that had passed since Bail’s retirement announcement, Ben had hardly had to wonder what the twins were doing at any given moment. Leia was the darling of the Senate as far as the general populace was concerned, and it was no wonder: she spoke up for the poor and needy, raised the issue of abolishing slavery of all sentient species galaxy-wide as often as she was allowed, and routinely seemed to represent the interests not just of Alderaanians, but of any being who had struggled under the crushing hand of the Empire. They would never say so publicly, but Ben couldn’t imagine a galaxy in which at least two-thirds of her fellow senators didn’t despise her.

Luke’s presence was less obvious, but Ben gathered that the boy was acting as extra security when his sister traveled on her many diplomatic missions. Her transport was sometimes shown taking off or landing on one planet or another, and it was always flanked by a minimum of two X-wing starfighters. Luke appeared to be flying one of them every time Ben saw a report of Leia traveling.

They seemed to be doing well despite their lack of training. As a senator, Leia had no doubt met both Palpatine and Vader, and yet it seemed as if they were none the wiser. She was shielding her Force-sensitivity somehow, and since Luke appeared to be with her most of the time, Ben had to assume he was as well. They were better off without being trained by him, without ever knowing of their familial baggage.

He assumed he wouldn’t hear from the Organas again.

As spring slipped into summer on Tatooine, many locals shifted their habits to align with the evening hours. The days were barely tolerable during less-extreme seasons, but they were unbearable during the summer. Ben took to sleeping during daylight hours, the same way his neighbors did.

He was surprised to be woken by frantic knocking on his door a mere hour before midday. Ben squinted at his chrono a moment longer than usual to make sure he was reading the time correctly. He tried to ignore the knocking, but it only increased in volume and speed.

Something must be wrong, he thought as he hauled his aging body out of bed. Why anyone would come to him for help was beyond him, but he could at least see what they needed.

He swung the door to his small dwelling open and was immediately blinded by the midday suns. His vision took seconds to adjust, and he squinted at the person standing outside his home.

Blue eyes set beneath a mop of sandy hair met his. The young man was sunburned and covered in sand. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Uncle Ben?”

[adhd-coyote]

Update for 'Cause I'm Not Giving Up!! Please please please read the warnings, this one is heavy on angst

Chapter 8: Secrets Spilled in Defense and Defiance Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Sithly Siths being Sithly, Referenced Past Assault (All Kinds), Referenced Torture, Anxiety, PTSD, Disassociation, Unreliable Narration, Depersonalization, The Chips

"Let us get this inquiry started, shall we then?" The Interim-Chancellor spoke, voice amplified and echoing. “You’ve read the report that the Council received from Commander Fox, correct?” Obi-Wan asked. “It should have thoroughly detailed everything that took place.” “Oh, yes, CC-1010’s report was detailed,” Amedda snorted. “But it failed to mention whose injuries you discovered, what exactly the orders on the supposed ‘bio-chips’ were, and why the four of you thought it necessary to carry out an assassination instead of bringing your suspicions before the Senate.”

[slaptasticturtle]

Dark Side

Yandere Male Sith x GN Soldier Reader

Warnings:Death (not reader), unhealthy relationships, mentions of stalking, torture

The sith empire had launched its third attack on Coruscant, hoping to once again destroy the Republic's capital. The Sith Civil War had recently ended after Darth Malgus was killed by the Emperor's Wrath. The Emperor, to boost morale to the citizens of their empire, ordered that Coruscant be taken. That is what the Emperor's Voice claimed, anyways.

Y/n had risen the ranks in previous battles, taking Kashykk back, defending Naboo, and helping the divided Alderan people during a skirmish that luckily did not turn into a civil war; they were now a commander. They led a small battalion of soldiers, and now only needed to listen to the Jedi General. The General assigned to them was Jedi Knight Milo Cortez, a great duelist but arrogant. His arrogance almost caused the loss of Naboo and the soldiers under his command when ordered a charge on a well defended fort. Only due to the quick thinking of Y/n, who led the remaining troops through the forest and launched a surprise attack on the imperial camp, were they able to win.

The empire had amassed a massive navy; 20 destroyers, 3 capital ships, and 14 carriers. They would easily overwhelm the current Coruscant navy. The Imperial fleet was under the command of Darth Dread, a Formidable sith who had not yet lost a conflict. He had killed his master within a week of being an apprentice, killed his handler during the selection process, and killed a darth who he believed was keeping the empire from winning the war on Daantoine. He was awarded the title of Darth after he lead a major victory on Tatooine, which left the republic Influence on the planet as non-existant.

The main Battle would be on the surface. The Emperor's voice states that the emperor wanted to capture the capital as intact as it could be, so it could become a symbol of the empires strength. That is why Darth Dread was chosen, he preferred beating his enemies with better tactics and skill rather than just bombarding them. Unfortunately, that meant that Y/n's platoon might run into him.

Y/n's platoon had been there by chance, having only gone to receive a mission and so that Milo could brag about his glorious victory of Alderan (which his efforts made the situation worse.) He was astonished to see that Y/n was made a commander, as he viewed them as nothing but a distraction from his own greatness. Why did there need to be a commander, when he was the general? Regardless, Milo viewed the upcoming war as a great way to flex his greatness. Y/n viewed it as a incoming Republic massacre that they were not ready for. When the first republic ship was destroyed, Y/n immediately ordered the senate tower to be barricaded. They ordered their troops to get in position and recommended that Milo be ready to duel Darth Dread if he arrives. Milo scoffed, but took the order anyways; defeating Darth Dread would surely make him a master, maybe even a council member.

Darth Dread, still on his ship, watched the barrage of lasers being shot from his ion cannons towards a Republic Cruiser. He turned to his deck hand and gritted his teeth in anticipation

Darth Dread:"how many troops has our spy reported?"

Shiphand:"Not many, the Republic was not suspecting an attack. Only the Coruscant guard, a few jedi, and a platoon that arrived by chance."

Darth Dread:"tell me about the Jedi and the platoon."

Shiphand:"there is four Jedi Knights and one master Jedi. The platoon is a small incursion force, meant to launch attacks when least expected, fortify undefendable positions, and help with violent political issues. They are lead by a Jedi Knight named Milo Cortez and a Trooper named Y/n that was promoted to Commander when they arrived."

Darth Dread:"I have heard of this platoon, the recent loss on Naboo infuriated my former Apprentice who lead the battle. He complained that the Commander defied the idiotic Jedi and won the battle. The Jedi should be easy to dispose of, but I want that Commander, alive. Their tactics might be good use to the Empire."

Shiphand:"yes my lord."

Darth Dread stared at the planet surface. He had killed his apprentice after the battle of Naboo. The commander that outsmarted his apprentice intrigued him. His apprentice was not one that could have been easily bested; so maybe the commander, if force sensitive, could become his new apprentice. Otherwise, they could be his new deckhand. His current one was growing lax which allowed a rebel fleet to escape while he took Tatooine.

Y/n was busy preparing the defence. One entrance, no exits, only retreat would be to random senator chambers and offices. The Republic could not hold this position forever, but they could go down swinging. If Y/n had to guess, they could easily kill 20 Imperials for every republic soldier lost. That was, of course, if Milo did not screw anything up. Milo had grown jealous of a fellow Jedi who had been crowned the Hero of Tython, and now Milo would do risky maneuvers that looked grand to hopefully boost the publics view of him. He wanted to be as famous as the Hero of Tython, if not more.

Y/n didn't have their normal weapons on them. They left them on the ship, as no weapons were allowed inside the senate tower unless you were a coruscant guard. Luckily the armory had more than enough blasters, but Y/n's custom blaster rifle and revolver were still on the transport. The troops around Y/n were nervous. They knew that they would die, but they still bad a small amount if hope that a counter attack could appear before then. Y/n knew that would not happen. The largest issue with the republic was that each planet had the complete control of their own troops and ships. No one would risk their entire defense just so Coruscant could be saved. Coruscant would have to be retaken after this battle was far over. They were going to be left to die.

Darth Dread had taken his personal transport to the surface, where most of his troops had already landed. His army matched the coruscant guard nearly 10 to 1, and on top of that; the guard was mostly on the lower levels of coruscant. Darth Dread marched his way to the senate tower and noticed the entrance was barricaded. He drew his lightsaber, igniting it into a dark crimson. He twirled it in his hand a few times before thrusting it into the barricade. He dragged it the the ground before pulling the blade out. He walked a few steps back, turned, and thrust his hands forward. The barricade split into two and flew from the entrance. No republic troops stood behind it, but he noticed a Jedi stand and ignite their blade into a bright blue. Darth Dread could feel the arrogance and feeling of superiority of the jedi, and Darth Dread smirked. He turned to the troopers and noticed the commander with their arm up, signaling a "hold your fire" command. He felt a strong hatred in them and the troops towards the republic that left them to die. He announced to the troops

Darth Dread:"anyone in the platoon lead by Commander Y/n can live if they lay down their arms. I respect Y/n's ingenuity and would like to offer them a job. I shall not kill or allow the death of anyone who does not fire a shot at me or my soldiers."

Y/n paused, but as they opened their mouth to respond, Milo spoke up

Milo:"MY troops will not listen to the words of a sith. They are loyal to me and only me. Surely you have heard of me, as I am the one who leads these troops. Face me, and meet your demise sith."

Darth Dread looked annoyed, his yellow eyes gaining a bit of fire orange in them, before he smirked once again

Darth Dread:"General Milo I presume, my spies were right about you. Arrogant, Boastful, and Jealous. Not the traits of a jedi. You are the only one I shall not spare. Now then, I am asking your troops if they wish to live."

Y/n looked around at their troops. None of them seemed to want to fight. Y/n knew these people, none of them cared for the republic. They joined because they were conscripted. Now they were being left to die by the republic they were supposed to protect. While Y/n did not agree with the empire, or how they allowed the sith to run amok, Y/n did know that Darth Dread was a man of his word. One of the few sith that actually made moves to end the war. While working for the empire would mean doing bad things, it meant they wouldn't have any bad thing happen to their troops. Y/n looked around one last time before peering over their fortification.

Y/n:"My troops have no loyalty to the republic, Jedi, Sith, or Empire. They only have loyalty to eachother. That will exist no matter who they serve. If you give your word that no harm shall come to any of us, I'm sure my troops will surrender. However, I shall only join if you promise that you shall lead us personally. I do not want my troops going to any other sith or officers."

Milo looked shocked, then rage filled his face. He pointed his blade towards the direction of Y/n. He began to walk forwards when he felt a shift in the force. He quickly turned and narrowly blocked the blade of the sith. Darth Dread didn't even glance at Milo, staring at Y/n. He spoke, not putting effort into the fight with the struggling Milo.

Darth Dread:"I give you my word that I shall personally command your troops. Once I have dealt with this jedi, I shall bring you aboard my ship."

Y/n nodded, and without saying a word, began to walk towards the exit. All of their troops followed. All of them had seen the worst of the republic. The republic, before the war, was better than the empire. However they had become corrupt, and allowed this nearly thousand year war consume the entire identity of the republic.

Milo was shocked. His entire platoon had just betrayed him. He clashes his blade against Darth Dread's, who was deflecting and blocking blows while not even looking at the fight. He just watched the platoon leave the tower. Darth Dread turned as the last troop left and smirked. He thrust his blade towards Milo's leg, who barely blocked. Milo took a step back and deflected another blow. Milo realized how truly weak he was at that moment. It was taking nearly everything out of Milo, yet Darth Dread had not even tapped into the force to aid him. The blades clashed once again, Milo's arm slamming into the wall as the force of the hit was to much. He quickly regained his footing, while Darth Dread only watched.

Another Jedi entered from one of the offices. They had been guarding the senator from Mon Calamari, but had decided to join the battle when they heard the clash. The jedi was a Master, which was shown by their robes. They drew a green blade and leaped into the battle. Upon the entrance of the jedi, Darth Dread drew a second Saber. It ignited a deep amber, and he held it up in time to block the strike. He backed up so both jedi would be infront of him. He was finally going to use some effort.

Darth Dread flicked his fingers forwards, launching a barrage of lightning towards Milo. Milo was to slow to respond and was hit by it. He was launched into the wall and had to take a second to regain his breath, limbs still twitching from the electricity. Darth Dread quickly engaged the master jedi, striking quickly and powerfully. The master stayed on the defense, but was slowly being backed into a wall. Milo rushed forward and attempted to strike Darth Dread in the back. Darth Dread lept into the air and landed behind Milo. Milo noticed he only had one blade and heard a sharp gasp behind him. A amber blade was stuck in the master's chest.

Dread saw an opening as he leapt, and threw his Saber into the masters chest as he reached the maximum height of the leap. The master, not expecting this, took a fatal wound. The sith now looked only at Milo, who was shocked. Milo grew angry and charged at Dread. Dread ducked under the blade, extended his arm, and called his still ignited blade back to his arm. Milo did not see this, to blinded by his emotions, which only ended when he felt a sharp pain. He glanced down, eyes widened in shock and pain, and saw the same amber blade glowing out of his chest. The saber fell to the ground, the blade retreating into the hilt, and Milo collapsed to his knees. He dropped his Saber to the ground as Dread walked to him. Dread simply glanced for but a moment, before kicking Milo over. He grabbed both his and Milo's blade, turned and left. He ordered his troops to execute every body that was still in the senate tower, other than his spy; the senator from Coruscant.

The remaining battle took only a few minutes before every senator on Coruscant was dead. Luckily for the republic, only 8 senators were stationed there. Y/n's troops waited for Dread's orders as he approached. Y/n spoke first.

Y/n:"My lord, what are our orders?"

Darth Dread:"your troops shall enter the transports. You shall follow me."

The troops saluted and walked to the sith troopers and the transports being boarded. They were welcomed with open arms as the sith troopers celebrated the major victory. Y/n followed Dread to his personal ship. Dread turned to them and began to explain.

Darth Dread:"I have heard of you and your achievements. You were able to catch my former apprentice off guard, which is not an easy task. The reason I spared you and your troops is that I respect you. I have felt a power emanating from you, and feel that I should train you. You shall become my apprentice. Please remove your helmet."

Y/n, shocked, slowly nodded and removed their helmet. Darth Dread, upon seeing their face for the first time, felt something pleasant. Something they had not known before. They had an attraction to Y/n. Surely this would pass, the sith thought, and he turned and motioned for Y/n to board the ship.

A few years of training passed. Y/n had learned the basics of the force and was surprisingly powerful. Not as much as Dread, but they far surpassed Milo and most Jedi/sith. Dread was a strict teacher, but felt his attachment grow stronger. His obsession began to fuel his powers more than his anger, and he had unknowingly become stronger than even the immortal Emperor. The emperor felt this, but was unable to do anything about it. He sent his wrath, who was quickly slain. He tried to drain the force out of Dread, which failed. His only hope was that Dread did not wish to engage him in combat. Vitiate was already hidden, but his fear grew every day that Dread grew in power. He ordered that nobody in the empire was to remove Y/n from Dread, as he feared that Dread would destroy the universe.

Dread, meanwhile, had noticeably gotten softer to Y/n. He no longer tortured them, allowed them to sleep for far longer, and refused to injure them during spars. He still did not allow them to win the spars, but he would not harm them. Y/n would often feel the force presence of Dread when they were supposedly alone. This was due to Dread feeling a need to watch his love. While he viewed them as beyond attractive, their personality is what created this strong obsession. He needed them. He craved them. Soon nothing would stand in either of their way.

Dread walked to the bridge of his ship, turned to the deckhand and gave the command.

Dread:"make way to Korriban."

Dread had one last obstacle in his way. He needed the war to end so he could indulge in his obsession fully. He was going to destroy the republic and the empire.

[lordk022]

The guard and the jedi, chapter two: Confidence Continuation of my fiction the guard and the jedi, Anakin x male reader. Synopsis: Anakin returned from his mission to join Coruscant, sad to have had to leave Y / N but also Padmé. Once arrived, he decides to go and report directly to Chancellor Palpatine. The ship landed near the palace of Coruscant and Anakin was immediately greeted by Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had a big smile, he took Anakin in his arms, waited for R2D2 to also get off the ship. "Glad to see you again my padawan!" "I'm glad to see you again too, master!" Obi-Wan stepped back, and suddenly, frowned. "Is everything okay?" Anakin began to be anxious Obi-Wan feels my emotions through the force, he could try to read my thoughts! At this thought, he tried to regain control of his emotions. "Padmé must stay on Naboo, I regret that she could not come with me now." "My padawan, sorry for you but tell yourself that this way you will be much more focused on your meditation exercises and your training. See the bright side of things and the most important." "Very well master." Anakin felt that he was getting anxious, he was losing control of his emotions again. "Excuse me master, but I am tired, and I would like to report to the chancellor, I must leave you." Anakin began to walk towards the inside of the temple, without looking too suspicious. Once inside the hall, he felt the anguish, the sorrow and the worry radiate his body, infecting his soul. He was wary of the Jedis who passed by him, because he could feel it, he got into the elevator as fast as he could. Once he reached the heights of the building, Anakin felt calmer, it was almost unfrequented by the Jedis, because it was intended for senators, he saw two guards in front of the door of the Chancellor's office.

"I have come to report to Chancellor Palpatine." Anakin simply stated, but that did not seem to be enough for the two guards, one of them then spoke. "Did the Supreme Chancellor give you an appointment? Because he is not expecting anyone at this time." The guard's voice was dry, full of suspicion, Anakin felt bad, looked down at the ground not knowing what to answer. But the door opened at that moment. "Anakin! What a pleasant surprise, you are not reporting to the council? » Anakin felt an unpleasant lump in his stomach. "Uh... I'd like to give you my report, Chancellor." That's all Anakin managed to say, the Chancellor examined Anakin, rolling up the sleeves of his luxurious vest. "Come in, Anakin." Anakin entered the Chancellor's huge office, Palpatine slowly made his way to his chair and sat down calmly. Anakin didn't know where to stand, the worry didn't leave him and his thoughts kept turning inside his tortured mind. He stood in front of the Chancellor's desk, looking at the floor with a sorry look. He raised his head to meet Palpatine's gaze. "What's going on, Anakin, I can see something is wrong."

Obi-Wan had always criticized the friendship between Anakin and the Chancellor, he didn't understand why Palpatine would give so much interest to a young padawan. Was it because of the prophecy? What Qui-Gon had felt when shortly before his death he explained to the council that Anakin was the chosen one to bring peace to the galaxy and balance to the force? Obi-Wan was wary of all senators, and especially the Supreme Chancellor. But Anakin had confided in Palpatine since he was young, Palpatine treated him with more respect than Master Yoda or Master Windu, he confided his misfortunes, his ambitions to him, he had gotten into the habit of going to ask for advice from the only man in this galaxy who did not infantilize him, and it was the Chancellor. If I had a father, this is how he would have treated me, this is how he would have advised me, Obi-Wan can't understand, maybe he's even jealous of Palpatine's wisdom, he who is only a politician who took a young padawan under his wing, and not a powerful Jedi master in charge of educating him... Pff Obi-Wan is just jealous! He's only afraid of disappointing his late master! "Is it about Padmé? About your marriage?" "No, well, I don't know what to think anymore! This marriage is secret, you and Obi-Wan are the only ones who know! But something happened to me on Naboo and... I'm afraid of being excluded from the order forever, I'd lose everything! I don't know what to do anymore!" »

Anakin began to sob, he wondered if he should continue to speak, to confess his relationship with Y/N, his own wife's guard, or if he should keep quiet. Will Palpatine understand? Could he keep this secret.

"Tell me Anakin, you fear nothing here, and the council cannot judge you, not even Obi-Wan." Palpatine stood up from his chair, he had that benevolent smile that Anakin had always known, that smile that irritated Obi-Wan and made him wary. Anakin felt a hand on his shoulder, the chancellor was waiting for him to confide honestly. "On Naboo when I was with Padmé, before the clones attacked Geonosis, I... I... no I can't, Chancellor it's something they will never accept!"

Tears ran down the young Jedi's cheeks, falling onto the floor of the large office. The chancellor gently pushed Anakin to sit in the large chair facing his desk. Anakin, a simple padawan, would never have thought to sit in this place, a very specific place intended for Jedi masters, important senators, and other high-ranking people like Padmé, Princess Amidala herself. "Tell me, I'm not a Jedi master." Anakin closed his eyes then opened them, exhaling deeply, he looked at the chancellor who smiled warmly at him, which gave him the courage to confess everything. "I thought Padmé was the love of my life, the one and only, but I don't know what to think anymore. I love her but there's something more. Even before I secretly married her on Naboo I met one of her close guards and... after a walk with him I..." Palpatine leaned calmly towards Anakin. "And you like this guard, there are no women members of the princess's close guard..." "No chancellor... You understand... I don't even know what Obi-Wan would think! No, he wouldn't support me! All this is prohibited by the Jedi, if they learn that I married the princess they will be disappointed and angry, but there... it's even worse for them!"

Anakin started crying again, he imagined Obi-Wan's judgment, what would become of him if he was expelled from the Jedi order, that Padmé knew about the intimate relationship he had with his own guard. He would lose absolutely everything! He raised his head to look at Palpatine, the latter was lost in his thoughts, Anakin had the impression that he had smiled for a short moment, but it must have been just his imagination. Palpatine spoke in a calm and convinced tone. "The council must not learn of this. The Jedi, of course, are the guardians of peace, they are the ones who stand as defenders of justice throughout the galaxy. Their dedication to the Republic and democracy is admirable, and they proved it to us during the attack of the clones, once again. But, my young friend, no Jedi, not even Obi-Wan Kenobi, even if he is your master, will accept your nature, your carnal and materialistic desires. The Jedi have a narrow vision, it must be admitted. " "Can I trust you, Chancellor? Will you help me?" Palpatine smiled, got up from his chair to look out the windows, the ships crossing the sky, the buildings and imposing monuments. "You can trust me, Anakin. I say it very often, but I perceive in you a power, a potential that only asks to be exploited, to grow, I see you as one of the greatest Jedi knights, and I want to see you on missions more often, we are on the cusp of a war Anakin and you, I am sure you will be a great warrior! Come back to me whenever you want, talk to me. " "Thank you, Chancellor, I am very grateful to you. " Anakin was relieved, his heart was much lighter, his thoughts less troubled, he bowed to the Chancellor, and as he began to leave he heard the old man's voice. "What is his name?" "Y/N, Chancellor"

"I will remember that, the next time I see Princess Amidala I will discreetly look at the guards who accompany her, I am sure to recognize the one for whom you have so much love, he must be special. » Anakin left happy, soothed, laughing almost to himself as he left the office to go to his room, then to make his report to the council. Palpatine remained at the window, a huge smile appeared on his face, and the chancellor began to think: Yes, an immense potential, but certainly not for the jedi, this suffering is a gold mine, I will soon have a new apprentice of spectacular power!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago Forever War with better sex, Starship Troopers without the lectures: Old Man’s War https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/12/forever-war-with-better-sex-starship-troopers-without-the-lectures-old-mans-war/

#20yrsago Cable companies will expire your Six Feet Under recordings after 2-4 weeks https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/12/cable-companies-will-expire-your-six-feet-under-recordings-after-2-4-weeks/

#15yrsago FDIC sends a big F-U: completely blacked out documents in response to WaMu takeover freedom of information requests https://web.archive.org/web/20100114010713if_/https://www.bizjournals.com/seattle/blog/2009/12/the_fight_for_wamu_documents.html

#10yrsago IBM’s banking security software demands the right to spy on you https://yro.slashdot.org/story/14/12/11/2233234/bank-security-software-eula-allows-spying-on-users

#10yrsago US Christian terrorism: the other white meat https://web.archive.org/web/20141205144046/https://thinkprogress.org/justice/2014/12/04/3599271/austin-shooter-christian-extremism/

#10yrsago Senate IP address vandalizes Wikipedia to scrub “torture” from CIA torture report https://mashable.com/archive/senate-wikipedia-torture-report

#5yrsago Teespring removes Techdirt’s “Copying is Not Theft” tees for copyright infringement, and won’t discuss the matter any further https://www.techdirt.com/2019/12/12/teespring-takes-down-our-copying-is-not-theft-gear-refuses-to-say-why/

#5yrsago The three biggest Chinese business scams that target foreign firms https://web.archive.org/web/20200107202820/https://www.chinalawblog.com/2019/12/china-scams-our-annual-holiday-edition.html">https://web.archive.org/web/20200107202820/https://www.chinalawblog.com/2019/12/china-scams-our-annual-holiday-edition.html

#5yrsago A Wechat-based “mobile court” presided over by a chatbot has handled 3m legal procedures since March https://web.archive.org/web/20191207192051/https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2019/12/07/asia-pacific/crime-legal-asia-pacific/ai-judges-verdicts-via-chat-app-brave-new-world-chinas-digital-courts/#.Xev7n2bP1qY

#5yrsago Facebook promised to provide academics data to study disinformation, but their foot-dragging has endangered the whole project https://socialscience.one/blog/public-statement-european-advisory-committee-social-science-one

#5yrsago DJ Riko is back with the 18th annual Merry Mixmas mashup album! http://djriko.com/mixmases.htm

#5yrsago Family puts Ring camera in children’s room, discovers that hacker is watching their kids 24/7, taunting them through the speaker https://www.vice.com/en/article/how-hackers-are-breaking-into-ring-cameras/

#5yrsago 2019 was the year of voice assistant privacy dumpster fires https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2019-12-11/silicon-valley-got-millions-to-let-siri-and-alexa-listen-in

#1yrago An Epic antitrust loss for Google https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/12/im-feeling-lucky/#hugger-mugger