#The White House budget office

[gwydionmisha]

Democrats grill Project 2025 co-author over ‘illegal’ Trump funding move

Russell Vought, Office of Management and Budget, is a Project 2025 person with absolutely disastrous plans. He plans to purge the civil service on political grounds and replace honest non-partisan people with right wing extremists as part of implementing autocracy. he also plans to overthrow Congress' power to allocate funds by illegally preventing the disbursement of Medicare, Social Security, EBT, Housing, Education, etc. funds in order to destroy the social safety net. He will likely get away with it as the SCOTUS are so in the bag for kleptocratic fascist autocracy that they've been declaring black letter parts of the constitution un constitutional and thrown out ideas like precedent and rule of law. This guy is terrifying and he's barely getting any coverage or notice.

Please contact your Senator.

If you can't safely contact them in person, here are some other options:

Five Calls to your critters: https://5calls.org/

Here is one that will send your reps a fax: https://resist.bot/

[govtshutdown]

Being the responsible branch, doing what's necessary

[aanews69]

Entregamos historias. También te damos guías, consejos y trucos sobre cómo crear el tuyo propio. Este canal está dedicado a cosas aleatorias que pasan por nu...

[pandemic-info]

UPDATE: a judge blocked this for now: https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-pause-federal-grants-aid-f9948b9996c0ca971f0065fac85737ce

—

This is a huge fucking problem.

These grants account for more than 10% of the GDP. 3 trillion – wiped out.

From the article:

The funding freeze by the Republican administration could affect trillions of dollars and cause widespread disruption in health care research, education programs and other initiatives. Even grants that have been awarded but not spent are supposed to be halted.

“The use of Federal resources to advance Marxist equity, transgenderism, and green new deal social engineering policies is a waste of taxpayer dollars that does not improve the day-to-day lives of those we serve,” said a memo from Matthew Vaeth, the acting director of the Office of Management and Budget.

(Use of that language, that entire segment, "Marxist equity ... policies" is disgusting. If you think you're wary of propaganda and you do not see the enormous red flags in that statement, I do not know how to help you. If you're not beyond it, maybe pick up a history book — the 1930s are particularly pertinent.)

The average person may not understand just how far-reaching this is, how many programs and services are covered by grants, that regular people rely on all across the US and globally.

Not to mention how many people just had their livelihood demolished.

Researchers, for example, spend months and years writing grant proposals, their work and income relies on these cycles. So even if this is "temporary", a lot of people are going to struggle.

This is not just a few people in lab coats somewhere, working on something you don't care about. Government-funded research is released to the public, since we paid for it, and is very typically about things the public will want to know:

Is this product safe or deadly?

Is this medication actually a "wonder drug" or does it harm you in the long term?

Is this pollution going to affect us long-term?

Etc.

Seriously, if you wanted any of those things to get better — you wanted lower rates of cancer and other deadly and disabling disease? You worry about trusting public health guidelines because you're concerned about bias and vested interests in research? You want "small government" that doesn't interfere with people's bodies based on a small group's religious dogma, with zero basis in factual, verifiable reality?

Then you should have voted to keep this administration out of government.

Because their idea — which is outlined in Project 2025, and they are following it closely — is that research will be required to rely 50% on private funding.

Guess what private funding introduces a ton more of: private interests, private bias. The interests of stakeholders who do not give a shit if you are being killed by their product, as long as line goes up in the short run.

But even beyond scientific researchers — and those who rely on that work, e.g. journalists, science communicators, public health advocates, scientific artists —

grants fund others like: teachers, police, farmers, women's and homeless shelters, native orgs, medical workers, and on the list goes.

All pending "review" by a thoroughly unqualified gang of convicted criminals and cronies.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn��t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

[saywhat-politics]

The Republican Party is eyeing sweeping cuts to Medicaid, a program that the poorest Americans rely on for health care, to finance President Donald Trump’s tax cuts and plans for mass deportation. Democrats say those plans could cost some 22 million people their health care, which they argue would betray Trump's promises on the campaign trail to lower costs for working Americans.

That finding comes amid reports that Trump’s unilateral decision to freeze federal funding resulted in whole states being frozen out of the Medicaid payment system, despite claims from the White House that the program would be unaffected. The acting director of the Office of Management and Budget, Matthew Vaeth, had said the freeze was aimed at “ending ‘wokeness'"; the freeze was put on hold by a judge late Tuesday, with critics accusing the administration of abrogating Congress' constitutional power to dictate federal spending.

“This is a blatant attempt to rip away health care from millions of Americans overnight and will get people killed,” Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., said in a post.

[robertreich]

The Truth About Trumponomics

Trump and Republicans want to wreck your bank account. Here are 5 things you need to know about Trumponomics.

1.Trump wants tax cuts for the rich, at your expense.

Trump’s tax cuts for the rich and big corporations added about $1.7 trillion to the national debt, with few benefits trickling down to the middle class — in fact, it raised taxes for more than 10 million American families.

Now Trump and Republicans want to make the tax cuts for the rich permanent, blowing up the debt even further. And then they’ll use that debt to justify this:

2. Trump would cut Social Security and Medicare — programs you’ve been paying into!

In every year of his presidency, Trump submitted a budget that tried to cut Social Security and Medicare. And he knows that’s the only way he can even begin to pay for extending his tax cuts for the rich.

3. Trump and his allies are pro-junk fee.

When the Biden administration issued a rule capping credit card late fees at $8, Sen. Tim Scott, a Trump surrogate, tried to overturn it in the Senate. And then a Trump-appointed judge issued a temporary injunction that blocked the rule from taking effect. Eliminating that rule would cost American families an estimated $10 billion a year.

And when the Biden administration required airlines to issue automatic refunds for canceled flights, Trump’s allies in Congress fought to block that too.

When Trump was in office, his administration fought against efforts to rein in airline junk fees.

Corporations nickel and diming us like this makes inflation worse. If Trump gets back in the White House, buckle up for more junk fees.

4. Trump would send health care costs soaring.

Republicans have committed to repealing the Inflation Reduction Act, which would strip Medicare of the ability to negotiate drug prices, and let Big Pharma send the price of insulin and other life-saving medicines back through the roof.

And Trump is still fixated on repealing Obamacare, with no plan to replace it.

TRUMP: Obamacare is a disaster. We’re gonna do something about it.

That would strip coverage from tens of millions of Americans, drive up premiums, and let insurers charge more or deny coverage to people with preexisting conditions.

5, If you’ve got student debt, you’re out of luck with Trump.

In contrast to President Biden, who’s canceled more than $160 billion of student debt so far, Trump is against student debt relief. In his first term, he tried to eliminate the popular Public Service Loan Forgiveness program for people like teachers and nurses, and he’s called the idea of debt relief “unfair.”

What’s unfair, is how student debt hurts not just the roughly 40 million Americans burdened by it, but the entire economy, since Americans with debt have less money to spend, are less likely to start a business, less likely to buy a home, and more likely to rely on government assistance.

The MAGA agenda would make nearly every aspect of your life more expensive, while making the richest Americans even richer.

Teddy Roosevelt’s economic plan was called the Square Deal. Franklin Roosevelt’s was the New Deal.

What Trump is offering is simply a Raw Deal.

[quaranmine]

This is disastrous, honestly. The entire country will be effected by this. Billions of dollars are sent out each year, especially to state and local governments to run their programs. People's salaries are paid with grants. People's research and jobs rely on grants. This will pause Medicaid, CHIP, WIC, and SNAP benefits. This will affect people's childcare with Head Start. It will affect clean water infrastructure, disaster relief, and healthy housing grants. Many grants are also cost-shares, which mean that organizations have already provided the money for their share of the project and started, and may be left on the hook for the rest of the money they were promised. Hopefully much of this is temporary, and the funding will resume for a lot of grant projects. (Though any pause in disbursements will cause chaos even if it resumes later.) But for many grantees this will be the end, as the memo even asks for already awarded grants to be canceled where possible if they are impacted by any of the EOs this week (so basically....DEIA, "woke ideology," green new deal, "marxist equity," etc.) Congress has already approved grants--they're the ones with the power of the purse, and the makers of the budget. And this affects their constiutents regardless of political affiliation.

[mariacallous]

Who gets to run out the clock?

It’s not often discussed, but the question of “who controls the clock” very much matters when one side is doing the wrecking and one side is trying to stop it.

When prosecutors were racing to hold Trump accountable for his multiple crimes around January 6 and his absconding with classified documents (and trying to cover it up), Trump’s lawyers played a game of delay. They understood that if they could tie the cases up in court and prevent trials from occurring before the election, then Trump could undo all of his legal risk by winning reelection.

The strategy worked, in part because he had a lot of help from specific bad faith judges and justices, and in part because our legal system isn’t set up for speed and can get bogged down easily.

But now the situation is somewhat reversed. The Trump White House is trying to do as much damage as it can as quickly as it can, while opponents are doing all they can to throw sand in the gears. Plaintiffs know that once there’s a preliminary injunction in place, the “status quo ante” will hold until a permanent injunction issues.

That’s why these initial court salvos wind up mattering so much. When the Supreme Court allows the district courts to do their work, unhindered by emergency appeals that stop orders in their tracks, then those courts can freeze conditions as they were just before the bad activities took place. That frozen circumstance then can last for months or years while the parties battle things out at trial and on appeal.

This will have the greatest impact on cases where the government has sought to freeze and impound money, but it could also keep in place key personnel (for example, inspectors general) who were illegally terminated.

This week, for example, another federal judge held that the government grant and assistance freeze order, initiated by the Office of Management and Budget, was illegal. He ordered the frozen money released. “Here, the executive put itself above Congress,” wrote Judge John McConnell in his decision. “It imposed a categorical mandate on the spending of congressional appropriated and obligated funds without regard to Congress’s authority to control spending.” That ruling, along with a similar one issued in another federal case last week, could spare thousands of projects and desperate recipients the pain and shock of permanently losing funds they had been expecting.

Another federal judge held that a member of the National Labor Relations Board was illegally terminated by Trump and has ordered her reinstated. “The President’s interpretation of the scope of his constitutional power — or, more aptly, his aspiration — is flat wrong,” wrote Judge Beryl A. Howell. “The President does not have the authority to terminate members of the National Labor Relations Board at will, and his attempt to fire plaintiff from her position on the Board was a blatant violation of the law.”

A third judge blocked the firing of the chair of the federal Merit Systems Protection Board. That’s a body which protects government workers from political discrimination.

The Trump administration is appealing all of these decisions. It hopes that the conservative majority will side with the notion that the president should have broad power to hire and fire within the executive branch, even if it now looks less likely that the Court will give him the power to withhold funds as he likes.

The High Court could also decline to hear these cases at this time, allowing the injunctions to remain in place and for the cases to develop more fully in the courts below. That would essentially allow plaintiffs to run out the clock for a change.

Not every case may or even likely will go our way. But with its 5-4 ruling in the USAID case, at least we know we have a fighting chance.

The takeaway

Stepping back, the big takeaway here is that the Supreme Court has now instructed the White House to obey a court ruling ordering release of funds the government had frozen. If Trump were truly a king, no High Court could order his government to do so. And if it did, he wouldn’t have to obey.

Moreover, the Supreme Court (again by a frighteningly thin majority) said to him, “Yes, in fact, a single district court has the power to tell you to do this, and we will stand behind that court’s power with our own.” It signaled there are in fact limits to Trump’s power, and the courts will say what they are.

The day may still come when Trump defies the Supreme Court itself and we must lock arms in the streets. But at least for now, there’s still something left for him to defy.

We Dodged A Constitutional Bullet: A 5-4 Supreme Court decision on Wednesday leaves our distressed system alive to fight another day.

[govtshutdown]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/08/31/white-house-congressional-spending-government-shutdown/

It's not just the budget that's on the line, so the White House is trying to recenter the conversation. Good luck with that

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Spinning the Block Part 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Officer Jessica "Jess" Sims

Warning(s): 18+, Suicide Mentioned, Smut.

Summary: Terry returns to Shelby Springs to find Jess.

Word count: 4.2K

"I keep my head up high

I cross my heart and hope to die

Lovin' me is complicated

Too afraid of a lot of changes

I'm alright and you're a favorite

Dark nights in my prayers"

Kendrik Lamar – "Alright"

The dust had finally settled.

Terry sat in a Shelby Springs coffee shop and mulled over the whirlwind two years he'd lived through. His high-profile case against the Shelby Springs Police Department ended in his favor. The case didn't drag out for years, probably because the video proof of misconduct was irrefutable. The combination of systemic corruption, civil rights violations, departmental liability, and lack of community trust in the leadership helped the jury make a quick decision. Summer and Marston's testimony did significant damage, but it was Jess Sims' presence that rattled him. Whatever ambivalence he felt about her part in knowing what that corrupt police department was doing, Jess's community rallied behind her. They set up online support to encourage people to donate money for her lawyer's defense fund and to help support her financially while temporarily suspended without pay. There were online testimonials from citizens vouching for her character. Even former criminals who had run-ins with the police posted TikTok clips of how Jess checked up on them to make sure they stayed on the straight and narrow after interactions with her as their arresting officer.

"Officer Sims didn't play. She talked to me like one of my aunties and that made me feel real bad, y'know, like I let down somebody in my family for being a fuckup. Sims told me to get my shit together. She even went to my grandmama's house to see if I signed up for night school like I said I would. My grandmama and my mama didn't even know how bad I was doing. I was pissed at first, cuz I felt like she needed to mind her business. Feel me? But yeah…I got my G.E.D. and I'm working a steady gig now. When I seen all that bullshit go down with homeboy and his cousin…I believed them cops did that shit. But I wouldn't yoke her up with them other fuckers. Ain't no good cops really outchea, but she made me think there might be some tryin' to do right by people."

The comments to that particular TikTok blew up and people argued among themselves about Jess's choice to be a cop, knowing that one Black woman among a squad of white boys didn't make her appear capable of fighting systemic racism. She was called everything from a white man's bedwench for knocking niggas around to the best type of law enforcement needed…someone connected to her community who put their needs first by protecting them from the white cops.

None of her community accolades or dedication to the force appeased other cops who painted her as a traitor to the blue line. She withstood online hate and ferocious public scrutiny. That had to be tough on her. Meanwhile, the public framed Terry and his cousin as victims of police brutality. His Aunt Rosa received nearly one million in GoFundMe donations. It covered burial expenses and the cost of a heavy-hitter lawyer to take on their wrongful death suit against the prison that was negligent in protecting Mike. The lawsuit would take some time, but all the media attention shed light on the case. He hoped his aunt would get swift justice.

As for Terry, he received a multi-million dollar settlement.

He cried when the judgment was read to him out loud in court. His lawyer cried with him because it meant that the world knew he was innocent and the cops were indeed callous bastards. No legal analyst expected the police department to appeal. Chief Sandy Burnne acted belligerent on the stand and justified his actions as a way to keep the town afloat because of budget constraints. He clammed up when Terry's lawyer brought up his previous wrongful death suit as the true cause of the department's financial crisis. He would more than likely die in prison with the long stretch he faced in the criminal case against him. The suicide of the corrupt Judge Logston who helped hide the truth nailed it shut in many minds. Why take yourself out if you're innocent?

The departments's insurance would pay it quickly and quietly. The city council of Shelby Springs wanted their town's name and tarnished reputation out of the media.

The judge approved the settlement, and the case was officially closed after eighteen months.

Sitting in the coffee shop stirring sugar into his espresso, the idea of being a wealthy man didn't faze him. Getting the truth out mattered most. It didn't surprise him that others who went through the terror tactics of the cops didn't come forward or even want to join a class action lawsuit. They had to live in that town or near it among family members of the cops that crossed several parishes. The trauma ran deep for some, and they wanted to forget about the money or assets stolen from them. Terry had nothing to lose. No wife or kids. No steady girlfriend. No job. No fear. He was a lone wolf with nothing but time on his hands to go up against a beast of a system.

Still, he couldn't keep Jess Sims taking the stand out of his mind. She wore a simple beige top with a tan blazer and brown slacks. She had puffed out her hair in a halo of fluffy curls, pulled back by a hair clip on one side. The light make-up on her face showed him what a stunner she was out of uniform. When his lawyer made a little joke to help Jess relax, he noticed she had a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. Their eyes met briefly before she was grilled about her role in the case.

Certain things were made clear. Chief Burnne kept Jess in the office for the majority of her work shifts. Misdemeanor cases were in abundance in Shelby Springs, and most people didn't question it because of the war on drugs and whatever made-up war they used to explain away why so many victims were called by their incarcerated loved ones to bring large sums of purposely inflated bail money in cash. Officer Lann and Officer Marston, along with two other officers Burnne used, were the primary culprits who arrested people. Judge Logston notified the police chief when a new bundle of cash was expected to come through in an attempt to bail out a loved one.

Burnne knew Jess was a straight-shooter and good at computers, so he kept her mainly indoors for the past two years as their department struggled with budget cuts. She also cared for her ailing grandfather at home, so her schedule remained fixed to gift her flexibility to run home for emergencies when the day nurse she paid for had issues. Each date that his lawyer brought up pertaining to a civil asset seizure, she could show in her personal daily planner that she worked in the office that day. Her patrol days were usually on Saturdays when her sister-in-law stayed with her grandfather.

Terry watched the dawning realization on Jess's face as she understood how Burnne had manipulated her and kept her away from a lot of actions she would most likely object to. The chief stayed considerate of her home situation only because it was the best way to keep her and a few other goody-two shoes cops in the dark as much as possible.

In the beginning of her testimony, Jess answered confidently and spoke highly of her former boss in terms of how he treated her. Burnne played on her need to clean up the streets and indoctrinated her with the mindset that they were under siege by nefarious cartels and drug dealers. No one could be trusted. Their actual legitimate drug busts cemented in Jess's mind that Burnne knew what was best, and she moved his way. Terry's lawyer baited her into speaking of her moral compass and pushed her to explain why she had held a gun on Terry when he thought she was Serpico.

"Until that point, I had no cause to believe that Chief Burnne acted unlawfully," Jess said.

His lawyer, a white man with the mind of a steel trap, stared at her hard before speaking again.

"Terry Richmond, who had done nothing but de-escalate every situation he faced with your fellow officers…you included…he hands you SD cards and asks you to broadcast them for the world to see after he thinks he'll be arrested or killed by your department… and that doesn't give you pause Miss Sims that maybe something is rotten in Denmark…or even a little fishy?"

Jess glanced at him, and he tried to give her an encouraging look to tell her truth. Her eyes watered.

"I wasn't sure what to believe. Things were happening so fast and I didn't want him to hurt the Chief or me."

"Miss Sims, you told us earlier that Mr. Richmond remained calm at all times, always explaining what he was going to do, and even conveyed to you that he wanted to avoid gunfire and violence. Why didn't you at least stop to look at the footage?"

Jess held her head high and kept her tears from falling.

"I wanted to trust Chief Burnne—"

"But you just stated that you weren't sure what to believe."

"That's because I didn't want to make a mistake and get my fellow officers or Mr. Richmond killed because of doubt. I kept thinking things could be sorted out later, as long as no one got hurt."

"That's the thinking of a good cop. We know you're good, Miss Sims, because we saw video of you stopping Officer McGill from shooting Mr. Richmond in cold blood. Mr. Richmond also testified that he thanked you for protecting him from men who wanted to… and I quote, "string me up". You also stopped Chief Sandy Burnne from obstructing justice by pushing him off the road and arresting him. The problem I'm having, though, is why you waited so long to stop Burnne once he shot Officer Marston…"

Jess's voice sounded unsure later in her testimony. It appeared that she questioned her own actions as she recalled them. She gave the impression that she was willing to support bad actors and questionable conduct as long as the end result she wanted came about. To Terry, she sounded no different from the Black soldiers he worked with in the marines who were gungho about fighting bad guys overseas, even if a few innocent civilians in other countries got crushed. Collateral damage.

Terry sipped his drink and contemplated the busy street outside. Such a sleepy-looking town. The type of place people put on postcards. A white woman strolled past, walking a small black and white dog with a young girl. She double-backed a few seconds later with her mouth held open. He grinned and gulped down the last of his espresso before leaving the coffee shop and joining the woman outside.

"Terry Richmond…I swear as I live and breathe!"

Summer McBride hugged Terry, and he lifted her up, returning the affection.

"You look amazing," she gushed.

"You look good too."

"Oh, please," she said.

She ran a hand over her thin blond hair that was about two inches longer than the last time he saw her.

"This is my daughter Annie…Annie this is Mr. Richmond, the man who saved me."

Summer's daughter had her mother's lanky blonde hair and a thin build. She looked to be about nine years old.

"Hi Annie," he said.

Annie acted shy and stayed close to her mother as she held the leash of the passive dog.

"Hi," Annie said.

"When did you get here…and why did you come back?" Summer said.

"Got here last night, and I came to check on some people in person. You and your daughter…and someone else."

"Marston?"

"No…Jess Sims."

Summer stared at him for a long time.

"Why Jess?"

Terry crouched down to play with Summer's dog. The puppy willingly went to him, and he glanced across the street, keeping an eye out for Jess. A Black café owner on the corner informed him earlier, after he ate an early breakfast, that Jess and her friends often had brunch there every Wednesday at one. He hung around the coffee shop to do some reconnaissance, looking for her. He tried contacting her through his lawyer, but she changed her phone number. His plan was to see her…try to talk to her. He had a burning desire to sort his feelings about everything with her. After the court case, he was compelled to let her know that he was never going to hold hard feelings against her. The vitriol she received from the outside world was enough. He needed her to know that he wanted her to keep living without guilt. All the others could go to hell, especially Marston, who started the whole ball running by ramming his cruiser into him.

But Jess?

He wanted her to have grace. The look of regret and shame on her face at Mike's repast made it possible for him to forgive her part in the whole affair. It was brave for her to show up at his aunt's house, knowing she'd be the target of scorn and the rage of a family who shouldn't be mourning Mike.

When he glimpsed her face back in Greenwood, he couldn't believe it. He almost didn't recognize her. She'd stayed on his mind for days. His cousin flipped the fuck out on her, and Terry chased Jess down the street. She looked so vulnerable and broken. Scared. He wanted to hug her, even though his cousin had every right to curse her out. That was her baby brother shanked to death. Her only brother.

He looked up at Summer. Why Jess?

"I need closure with her. She saved me two times…three, actually. Saved you."

"She was only saving her ass."

"Like your friend, Marston?"

Summer looked away. Her body language and tone told him more than she realized. She and Jess had history of some kind.

"You know her?"

"Yeah. We were friends at one time."

"What happened?"

"That's personal."

"I have a lot of time available to listen."

"Over dinner?"

He grinned. Summer gave him a coy smile. He sensed some flirtation, but he wouldn't feed it. She was strictly for the friend zone.

"Pick the restaurant. My treat," he said.

"No, my treat at my place. It might be better if we aren't seen eating out together since…you know…the case has been settled. I make a mean casserole and I can fill you in on my case against Officer Lann."

"When?"

"Let's do tomorrow night. Annie goes back to her dad's and we can have some privacy. My number is the same."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan."

Terry noticed a Dodge Durango pull into a parking spot across the street. Seven Black women piled out and Jess was the last to exit from the driver's side. He inhaled through his mouth quickly, seeing her with her people. She smiled and checked her cell phone, pulling out a pair of glasses. Her black and silver off-the-shoulder halter top accentuated all that she had up front and her short jean skirt gave him an eyeful of big legs and thick thighs. The heels of her black open-toe half boots helped stream-line her profile. She was all huggable curves and wide hips. Big hoop earrings dangled to her shoulders and her laughter drifted across the street, making music in his ears. Goddamn. Nothing made Terry weaker than a short, big-breasted woman who wore glasses.

"Well, there she is," Summer grumbled.

Her voice sounded irritated. She took the leash from Annie.

"See you tomorrow night," Summer said.

Jess glanced their way and froze.

"Good luck," Summer said, walking off with her daughter and dog.

Terry looked over at Jess again. Her party of women entered the café laughing and talking loud, but she stood near her car with a concerned expression. He smoothed his blue sweater down to make sure he was presentable and crossed the street after a car rolled past.

"I've been trying to contact you. You changed your number," he said.

Terry tried to sound upbeat to help ease her apprehension.

"Changed it a year ago," she said in a crisp and cautious tone.

Jess's central Louisiana accent had him feeling bashful in front of her. Things were so different when she wasn't in uniform. This was a bona fide southern baddie in front of him. He didn't want to lose all his cool in front of her, however, it would've been so easy to take one step and place a hand on her car's roof, hem her up against the driver's door and talk that talk to her like he was trying to pull her in his orbit. She had to be feeling him because her eyes dropped to his chest, admiring the wide expanse of it.

"I see you're about to have a meal with your people, so I won't take up too much of your time…I just needed to see you, Jess. Can we meet up for another time to talk openly?"

"I don't know why you'd want to. Last time you saw me, I caused a scene at your cousin's house."

"That was a tough day, and my entire family stayed on edge. I'm sorry about your passenger window. Can I take you out to eat later in the week? Friday maybe? Or we could take a long drive into the country, get away for a chance to connect…talk?"

"I have a church function on Friday."

"Saturday."

"Busy. Terry, I don't feel comfortable—"

"Okay, okay. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for keeping me alive."

Jess chewed her lip, and her left leg shook. She averted his direct gaze, and he so wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be fine. But he didn't know that for sure, at least not for her. He dug for his wallet in his back pocket and pulled out a card from the motel he stayed at.

"I'm in room 5B. Please call if you change your mind. I'm going to stay here for a few more days. If I don't hear from you, I'm going to leave town."

"You should leave now. There's nothing for you here except a horrible memory."

Jess started wiping at her eyes as tiny teardrops fell down her plump cheeks. He moved in close and hugged her, letting her nervous trembles get absorbed by his warm strength.

"I'm not here to upset you or make you feel bad, Jess…I care about what's going on in your life. We both went through something traumatic that changed us. I know you're having a hard time here."

She wept onto the top of his chest. He rubbed her back to soothe her. The way she rested against his solid frame felt right.

"Jess? Everything okay?"

One of her girlfriends stepped out from the café, looking for her. Terry didn't want to stop holding Jess. All that softness molded against his hard muscles reminded him of how long he'd been without the regular comforts of a woman. He'd had a few hook-ups throughout the trial, but none of the women he spent intimate time with felt like the woman in his arms. Her lushness and the way she clung to him aroused a yearning to be alone with her. But only when she was ready.

He stepped away from her and stroked her shoulders.

"I won't pressure you. If you don't call me, I'll understand why and won't bother you again."

She nodded and walked away from him quickly. Her friend, another heavyset woman with long straight hair, threw an arm around Jess's shoulder and escorted her inside the café.

That didn't go so well.

Terry took a long walk around the town square to clear his head. He didn't want to make her cry, although he knew in his heart that speaking with her could turn emotional. Now that he'd approached her, he wasn't so sure if talking with her would do either of them any good. He was already feeling the heaviness in his chest from listening to her sob. Did she think he just wanted to punish her with his words? Give her a verbal tongue lashing to rid himself of the burden of Mike's death? Lay it at her feet so she would suffer for as long as his family did?

Truthfully, he didn't know what to do. He'd been languishing in a holding pattern for two years since Mike's murder. The lump sum of his multi-million dollar payout gave him financial freedom to go anywhere. All he did was buy a brand new silver-blue Dodge Ram truck with a pop-up camper and drove straight to Shelby Springs to find Jess. The previous night, he slept out in the woods inside his pop-up to test it out. Roomy, comfortable, and perfect for his needs as an outdoorsman, Terry later sought a motel and bided his time, waiting for her to show up by lingering inside the coffee shop.

Now he found himself lost again.

He returned to the coffee shop after an hour and ordered a turkey club sandwich with tomato basil soup. Jess emerged from the café with her friends, looking subdued. He sat back in the cut and watched her drive away, thinking about her softness.

Returning to the motel, he tried to turn in early after watching a few movies. He tossed and turned all night, dreaming about Jess. Before dawn broke, he woke up with a throbbing erection. He twisted his legs around the cheap, thin motel sheets. Their friction against his dick might have influenced the vivid dream he snapped awake from. There was nothing inherently erotic about it at first, just a replaying of hugging Jess and rocking her in his arms. But then she dropped to her knees, right there next to her car, and unfastened his pants, fishing out the thick dick that her cute hands couldn't get to fast enough. The rich brown heaviness pulsed in her hand. He was a big man everywhere, and his erection was not meant for those who couldn't handle a big penis. Terry was so ready to nut all in her pretty mouth. Jess teased the fat mushroom cap and thick frenulum ridge with a nasty pink tongue that knew how to please him. He reached down to palm one of her breasts and her top just fell down to her waist, like the magic of dreams often did. Her big titties made him groan, especially the large reddish-brown areolas with stiff nipples ready to be pinched and played with.

Jesus! He was ready to bust.

She started shaking them fat titties, letting them smack against each other, letting him hear how loud they'd sound smacking above his face if he fucked her good and hard.

"Baby, you can put your mouth on that dick. Lemme see how far I can get it down your throat before you choke…"

His deep voice sounded demanding and direct. She lifted those big melons and jiggled them for him, her lips pulled back into a smile showing him that one dimple in her cheek.

That's when he woke up, sweating and cursing, because that shit wasn't really happening.

Terry untangled his legs from the sheets and fisted his dick, pumping his hand up and down from the root to the ridge, squeezing the heft. His pre-cum spilled out in a deluge and he groaned Jess's name. He envisioned her voluptuous breasts, wishing they were in his hands, and came so forcefully that his balls pulsed in a rhythm with the thick white streams he shot across the bed.

"Fuck…fuck…oh…fuck!"

He kept working his hand up and down, pretending she rode his dick, clapping the cheeks of her fat ass on his muscular thighs. A final release of cum signaled the end phase of his intense climax. No orgasm ever felt like that before, just from a dream.

Terry moaned and gasped for air. The room looked blurry because his eyes watered from the pleasure, sweating fluid like the rest of his skin and his content dick.

He squeezed his eyes shut and knew something for certain while being in Shelby Springs: either he'd end up fucking Jess Sims, or he'd make her cry again. Maybe even both… at the same damn time.

Part 3 HERE.

Masterlist.

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[sadbicth]

see this? this is the shit that pisses me off. "you'd rather believe project 2025 is something that will actually happen". hey @evitavresnoc i'm calling you out for this dumbass post! you have a lot but this one irked me the most.

i'm hoping this finds its way to your feed because you're a coward and won't let anyone mention you, message you, dm you, reply to you, or reblog your posts!

and strap in, because it's a long one. i would've reblogged your original post or put this in your replies, but you turned off both!

instead of doing your research like a smart person would, you've decided that trump declaring "i dont intend to implement project 2025!!" is true, just because he said it. trump isn't exactly known as the most honest person, and believing anything he says is fooling yourself.

not only is trump mentioned over 300 times in the project 2025 document, he's implemented or attempted to implement countless aspects of it.

paul dans, who's one of the directors of project 2025, said himself that trump's actions so far are a testament to the initiative, calling them "home runs".

evitavresnoc, i don't expect you to actually read this, because you'd probably try to excuse or deny it. but i recommend you and everyone else do, because sometimes it's okay to be wrong.

below is a list of the things trump has done (as of february 3, 2025) that match up to project 2025:

redirecting federal aid under fema to the states: trump suggested we could "get rid" of fema, leaving it to the states. project 2025 calls for "reforming FEMA emergency spending to shift the majority of preparedness and response costs to states and localities instead of the federal government." project 2025 says that fema is "overtasked, overcompensates for the lack of state and local preparedness and response, and is regularly in deep debt."

ending diversity, equity, and inclusion practices: trump claimed in an executive order the day he arrived in the white house that dei policies violate federal civil rights laws, and shut out americans "who deserve a shot at the American dream" because of their race or sex. project 2025 calls for deletion of dei "from every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists." he also revoked is 60-year-old policy from 1965 that prohibited employment discrimination by government contractors and empowers the federal government to impose consequences for any discriminatory practices, which project 2025 explicitly called to revoke.

targeting pbs and npr: the fcc opened an investigation into pbs and npr because they're "concerned that NPR and PBS broadcasts could be violating federal law by airing commercials. In particular, it is possible that NPR and PBS member stations are broadcasting underwriting announcements that cross the line into prohibited commercial advertisements". according to project 2025, "stripping public funding would, of course, mean that NPR, PBS, Pacifica Radio, and the other leftist broadcasters would be shorn of the presumption that they act in the public interest and receive the privileges that often accompany so acting."

freezing federal assistance: trump established the department of government efficiency. it's headed by billionaire elon musk, who's been tasked with cutting regulations and spending, and to restructure federal agencies. this froze grants, loans, and federal assistance programs. russ vought, who's one of the directors of project 2025, and the new leader of the office of management and budget, is also overseeing this.

transgender military ban: trump prohibited trans people from serving in the military during his first term. biden reversed that. trump reversed it again, completely barring all trans people from military service. he claims that identifying as transgender "conflicts with a soldier's commitment to an honorable, truthful, and disciplined lifestyle, even in one's personal life." project 2025 calls for a reversal of policies "that allow transgender individuals to serve in the military. gender dysphoria is incompatible with the demands of military service."

restricting gender-affirming care for minors: trump issues an executive order barring the use of federal funds for any type of gender affirming care for anyone under the age of 19. it also instructs the the secretary of defense to take regulatory action to exclude gender-affirming care for minors from insurance coverage provided by tricare, the defense department's health care program, and federal employee health benefit programs. project 2025's calls for its office of civil rights to "remove all guidance issued under the biden administration concerning sexual orientation and gender identity." the book generally criticizes gender-affirming care as causing "irreversible physical and mental harm to those who receive them" and argues there is a lack of evidence surrounding it.

rescinding funding from schools with trans athletes: trump signed an order rescinding federal funding from school programs which allow trans women and girls to participate in women's sports. project 2025 claims that school districts are forcing schools to undermine cis women athletes to "satisfy transgender extremists".

federal recognition of only two sexes: trump passed a policy to only recognize male and female, ignore intersex people, and make them unchangeable. project 2025 calls for the government to define sex as biological sex recognized as birth.

stripping civil servants of employment protections: trump reinstated an executive order from his first term which created "schedule f in the excepted service". this creates a new employment category for career civil servants, and strips them from employment protections. it adds a section that states that while employees in these new "schedule policy/career positions" are not required to personally or politically support the current president or his policies, they are "required to faithfully implement administration policies to the best of their ability, consistent with their constitutional oath and the vesting of executive authority solely in the president." failure to do so is grounds for termination of employment. project 2025 repeatedly calls for trump's schedule f proposal to be reinstated.

closing the office of federal contract compliance programs: trump revoked the equal employment opportunity act (executive order 11246 of september 24, 1965), and the ofccp within the department of labor was immediately seized. project 2025 called for trump to "eliminate" the ofccp by rescinding eo 11246.

ending government efforts to fight mis/dis/malinformation: trump passed an executive order claiming that no federal government officer, employee, or agent may engage in abridging freedom of speech, even if that speech was spreading misinformation. project 2025 aims to prohibit the fbi from engaging in "activities related to combating the spread of so-called misinformation and disinformation by Americans who are not tied to any plausible criminal activity".

reinstating service members who refused the covid-19 vaccine: trump issues an order directing the secretaries of defense or homeland security to reinstate all service members who were discharged after refusing the covid-19 vaccine, as well as being restored their rank and full pay, benfits, bonus payments, or compensation. project 2025 calls for this, almost word for word.

withdrawing from the world health organization: one of trump's first actions was withdrawing the us from the world health organization. according to project 2025, "the manifest failure and corruption of the world health organization (WHO) during the covid-19 pandemic is an example of the danger that international organizations pose to u.s. citizens and interests". it says that when institutions act contrary to u.s. interests, the government "must be prepared to take appropriate steps in response, up to and including withdrawal."

withdrawing from the paris climate agreement: one of project 2025's most passionate arguments is that of withdrawing from the paris climate agreement, which trump did on his first day in office, as well as rolling back climate change policies and calling for climate change efforts to be removed from governmental efforts such as providing foreign aid and regulating agriculture.

sending active duty troops to the southern border: on trump's first day of his presidency, he signed an order that assigned troops "the mission to seal the borders and maintain the sovereignty, territorial integrity and security of the united states." project 2025 suggests "using military personnel and hardware to prevent illegal crossings between ports of entry and channel all cross-border traffic to legal ports of entry."

restricting funding for public schools: trump has signed multiple executive orders restricting funding for k-12 schools that he believes "indoctrinates" students based on "gender ideology and discriminatory equity ideology", which is language used in project 2025.

rescinding efforts towards renewable energy: trump declared a national energy emergency and stated that the us should increase oil and gas drilling. project 2025 claims that the us' “energy crisis is caused… by extreme ‘green’ policies” and said the next president “must be committed to unleashing all of america’s energy resources.”

forbidding words in nsf research papers: i saved this one for last because it's very long. because of the dei order, there is a list of words that are banned from the national science foundation research papers, and many health organizations, such as the cdc, are scrubbing their sites of these forbidden words. the words are as follows: "activism, activists, advocacy, advocate, advocates, barrier, barriers, biased, biased toward, biases, biases towards, bipoc, black and latinx, community diversity, community equity, cultural differences, cultural heritage, culturally responsive, disabilities, disability, discriminated, discrimination, discriminatory, diverse backgrounds, diverse communities, diverse community, diverse group, diverse groups, diversified, diversify, diversifying, diversity and inclusion, diversity equity, enhance the diversity, enhancing diversity, equal opportunity, equality, equitable, equity, ethnicity, excluded, female, females, fostering inclusivity, gender, gender diversity, genders, hate speech, excluded, female, females, fostering inclusivity, gender, gender diversity, genders, hate speech, hispanic minority, historically, implicit bias, implicit biases, inclusion, inclusive, inclusiveness, inclusivity, increase diversity, increase the diversity, indigenous community, inequalities, inequality, inequitable, inequities, institutional, Igbt, marginalize, marginalized, minorities, minority, multicultural, polarization, political, prejudice, privileges, promoting diversity, race and ethnicity, racial, racial diversity, racial inequality, racial justice, racially, racism, sense of belonging, sexual preferences, social justice, sociocultural, socioeconomic, status, stereotypes, systemic, trauma, under appreciated, under represented, under served, underrepresentation, underrepresented, underserved, undervalued, victim, women, women and underrepresented.

this isn't even everything. there's still tens of examples of executive orders and policies that donald trump has signed and passed that coincide with project 2025.

now, evitavresnoc, i'd be surprised if you read through all of this, as trumpers tend not to read anything that's critical of their o holy god. however, if you did make it to the end, i also don't expect you to criticize him whatsoever, y'all never do.

but to sit here and lie so confidently is shameful. he has done nothing but prove that he's a lying sociopath, who says what he says to get ahead.

and i can't wait for the "well this isn't that bad" or "hell yeah brother" replies i'm going to get to this, because it's inevitable. it just helps me weed out the losers who need to get the fuck off this site and go back to facebook.

fuck trump, fuck project 2025, and fuck you too if you voted for this shit.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 16, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Jan 17, 2025

In his final address to the nation last night, President Joe Biden issued a warning that “an oligarchy is taking shape in America of extreme wealth, power, and influence that literally threatens our entire democracy, our basic rights and freedoms, and a fair shot for everyone to get ahead.”

It is not exactly news that there is dramatic economic inequality in the United States. Economists call the period from 1933 to 1981 the “Great Compression,” for it marked a time when business regulation, progressive taxation, strong unions, and a basic social safety net compressed both wealth and income levels in the United States. Every income group in the U.S. improved its economic standing.

That period ended in 1981, when the U.S. entered a period economists have dubbed the “Great Divergence.” Between 1981 and 2021, deregulation, tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations, the offshoring of manufacturing, and the weakening of unions moved $50 trillion from the bottom 90% of Americans to the top 1%.

Biden tried to address this growing inequality by bringing back manufacturing, fostering competition, increasing oversight of business, and shoring up the safety net by getting Congress to pass a law—the Inflation Reduction Act—that enabled Medicare to negotiate drug prices for seniors with the pharmaceutical industry, capping insulin at $35 for seniors, for example. His policies worked, primarily by creating full employment which enabled those at the bottom of the economy to move to higher-paying jobs. During Biden’s term, the gap between the 90th income percentile and the 10th income percentile fell by 25%.

But Donald Trump convinced voters hurt by the inflation that stalked the country after the coronavirus pandemic shutdown that he would bring prices down and protect ordinary Americans from the Democratic “elite” that he said didn’t care about them. Then, as soon as he was elected, he turned for advice and support to one of the richest men in the world, Elon Musk, who had invested more than $250 million in Trump’s campaign.

Musk’s investment has paid off: Faiz Siddiqui and Trisha Thadani of the Washington Post reported that he made more than $170 billion in the weeks between the election and December 15.

Musk promptly became the face of the incoming administration, appearing everywhere with Trump, who put him and pharmaceutical entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy in charge of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, where Musk vowed to cut $2 trillion out of the U.S. budget even if it inflicted “hardship” on the American people.

News broke earlier this week that Musk, who holds government contracts worth billions of dollars, is expected to have an office in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building adjacent to the White House. And the world’s two other richest men will be with Musk on the dais at Trump’s inauguration. Musk, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, and Meta chief executive officer Mark Zuckerberg, who together are worth almost a trillion dollars, will be joined by other tech moguls, including the CEO of OpenAI, Sam Altman; the CEO of the social media platform TikTok, Shou Zi Chew; and the CEO of Google, Sundar Pichai.

At his confirmation hearing before the Senate Committee on Finance today, Trump’s nominee for Treasury Secretary, billionaire Scott Bessent, said that extending the 2017 Trump tax cuts was "the single most important economic issue of the day." But he said he did not support raising the federal minimum wage, which has been $7.25 since 2009 although 30 states and dozens of cities have raised the minimum wage in their jurisdictions.

There have been signs lately that the American people are unhappy about the increasing inequality in the U.S. On December 4, 2024, a young man shot the chief executive officer of the health insurance company UnitedHealthcare, which has been sued for turning its claims department over to an artificial intelligence program with an error rate of 90% and which a Federal Trade Commission report earlier this week found overcharged cancer patients by more than 1,000% for life-saving drugs. Americans championed the alleged killer.

It is a truism in American history that those interested in garnering wealth and power use culture wars to obscure class struggles. But in key moments, Americans recognized that the rise of a small group of people—usually men—who were commandeering the United States government was a perversion of democracy.

In the 1850s, the expansion of the past two decades into the new lands of the Southeast had permitted the rise of a group of spectacularly wealthy men. Abraham Lincoln helped to organize westerners against a government takeover by elite southern enslavers who argued that society advanced most efficiently when the capital produced by workers flowed to the top of society, where a few men would use it to develop the country for everyone. Lincoln warned that “crowned-kings, money-kings, and land-kings” would crush independent men, and he created a government that worked for ordinary men, a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.”

A generation later, when industrialization disrupted the country as westward expansion had before, the so-called robber barons bent the government to their own purposes. Men like steel baron Andrew Carnegie explained that “[t]he best interests of the race are promoted” by an industrial system, “which inevitably gives wealth to the few.” But President Grover Cleveland warned: “The gulf between employers and the employed is constantly widening, and classes are rapidly forming, one comprising the very rich and powerful, while in another are found the toiling poor…. Corporations, which should be the carefully restrained creatures of the law and the servants of the people, are fast becoming the people's masters.”

Republican president Theodore Roosevelt tried to soften the hard edges of industrialization by urging robber barons to moderate their behavior. When they ignored him, he turned finally to calling out the “malefactors of great wealth,” noting that “there is no individual and no corporation so powerful that he or it stands above the possibility of punishment under the law. Our aim is to try to do something effective; our purpose is to stamp out the evil; we shall seek to find the most effective device for this purpose; and we shall then use it, whether the device can be found in existing law or must be supplied by legislation. Moreover, when we thus take action against the wealth which works iniquity, we are acting in the interest of every man of property who acts decently and fairly by his fellows.”

Theodore Roosevelt helped to launch the Progressive Era.

But that moment passed, and in the 1930s, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, too, contended with wealthy men determined to retain control over the federal government. Running for reelection in 1936, he told a crowd at Madison Square Garden: “For nearly four years you have had an Administration which instead of twirling its thumbs has rolled up its sleeves…. We had to struggle with the old enemies of peace—business and financial monopoly, speculation, reckless banking, class antagonism, sectionalism, war profiteering. They had begun to consider the Government of the United States as a mere appendage to their own affairs. We know now that Government by organized money is just as dangerous as Government by organized mob.”

“Never before in all our history have these forces been so united against one candidate as they stand today,” he said. “They are unanimous in their hate for me—and I welcome their hatred.”

Last night, after President Biden’s warning, Google searches for the meaning of the word “oligarchy” spiked.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[slytherin-pen]

To Build A Home

pairing: Lucien x Nesta

word count: 1.2k

a/n: okayyy, you guys win. i stuck with Lucnes. written for day 4 “moving in” of @sjmromanceweek . i hope you enjoy the tooth rotting fluff

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5

The house was nestled at the edge of a rolling green meadow, where tall grass swayed in the breeze and the scent of roses and daffodils drifted through the air. It was on the smaller side with only three bedrooms but it was big enough for them, with cobblestone walls, ivy creeping up its sides, and wide windows that let in an abundance of sunlight.

Lucien stood beside Nesta on the dirt path leading to the white front door. “It’s ours,” he murmured.

Nesta glanced up at him, catching the moisture gathering in his eyes. “Ours,” she confirmed.

For so long, they had lived in houses. Houses riddled with abuse or poverty. Houses that belonged to someone else, somewhere they couldn’t be entirely themselves. But this? This was theirs to shape. No masks, no need to have their guards up.

Lucien exhaled, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he reached for her hand, squeezing once before he intertwined their fingers. “Shall we?”

Nesta nodded, and together, they stepped inside.

The house smelled of dust and a faint hint of jasmine, the wood floors creaked under their boots. Tamlin had gifted them the house as a gesture of gratitude, but it had been Lucien who had scoured the lands to find this specific place—a home that wasn’t tangled in painful memories, wasn’t a palace suffocating under the weight of expectations.

They had moved only a few of their things so far. Stacks of books were scattered around, boxes shoved in the corners, and furniture still waiting to be put in its proper place.

Nesta crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against her bicep. “We should start with the library.”

Lucien raised a brow. “Not the kitchen?”

She shot him a dry look, but he only grinned.

“I mean,” he continued, brushing past her to inspect the wooden shelves above the counters, “you strike me as someone who wouldn’t want to wake up tomorrow and realize there’s no tea.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Fair point.”

They spent the afternoon unpacking, Nesta methodically organizing the kitchen while Lucien took a more haphazard approach, distracted by the discovery of little details about their home. How the late afternoon sun hit the kitchen windows just right, the small carved designs in the wooden support beams, the way the doors groaned slightly—as if the house itself was stretching awake.

When he found the tin of her favorite tea, he placed it on the counter next to the kettle, just as Nesta put his preferred spices in the cupboard next to the stove. They worked in quiet harmony, almost like it was a dance they’d practiced hundreds of times.

The next day, after they had unpacked the necessities, they started on the office that contained various reports and books sent by Tamlin.

Nesta hadn’t expected to take such an active role in rebuilding Spring, but when Lucien started sifting through plans and budgets, she had inevitably found herself seated beside him, pouring over figures and blueprints.

Tamlin had given him free rein to rebuild as he saw fit, and Lucien, for all his easy charm, had a sharp mind when it came to politics and structure.

“You’re missing an opportunity here,” Nesta said one evening, pointing to a line in the budget. “The Summer Court is also rebuilding after the war, and I’m sure High Lord Tarquin would be open to some compromises. Allow them to receive a discount on wine, game, and vegetables, and in turn, they can give us discounts on seafood, spices, and tropical fruits. That would allow you to redirect more revenue to the construction fund.“

Lucien leaned over her shoulder, studying the figures. His breath brushed her cheek, but Nesta didn’t move away.

“You’re a terrifyingly efficient female,” he mused.

She smirked. “You’re welcome.”

He grinned, but there was something softer beneath it, something grateful. Nesta wasn’t just helping him—she was invested in this. In their future here.

Nesta was also helping arrange donation drives for clothes, and household supplies, and had plans for charity balls in the future. She spoke with displaced families and workers who lost their jobs due to the building being destroyed or the employers too broke to pay wages. She hosted meetings in the villages, brainstorming with the citizens about how they could get things running again in a way that was manageable for everyone.

Lucien had always known Nesta was brilliant and clever, but watching her work never ceased to amaze him at just how well she could find a solution when the odds seemed impossible. She wasn’t just here because of him. She was here because she wanted to be. Because she cared. Just like when she demanded the human queens offer sanctuary to the very people who had cast her family out for being poor before the war with Hybern.

They found a rhythm in their days, falling into something that felt natural—waking up early, Nesta making tea while Lucien drafted documents for potential alliances, afternoons spent at council meetings or overseeing construction, evenings spent sprawled in their barely furnished living room, reading by the fireplace.

Nesta had claimed one of the armchairs as her own, curling up with a book as Lucien sat on the floor in front of her, one leg bent while he idly massaged her foot with one hand.

The magically lit fire, courtesy of Lucien, cast a warm glow over the room, their shadows reflected on the walls. Nesta had found a book on Spring Court history, hoping to find more ideas on how to restore the court to its former glory.

“You’re not listening,” Nesta accused, though there was no bite to it.

Lucien cracked open an eye. “I was resting my eyes while you told me the riveting history of—what was it again?”

Nesta huffed, snapping the book shut. “You are insufferable.”

Lucien grinned. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

Nesta stilled. He hadn’t said it with the expectation of a confession, hadn’t said it like he was waiting for something in return. He just knew. The ways Nesta Archeron showed her love was quiet and through actions. And she had done so—in the way she meticulously organized his paperwork, in the way she followed him around the court listening to every word as he explained the culture as if it was the most riveting thing she’d ever heard.

Eventually, she murmured, “Unfortunately,” as she reached down, running her fingers through his hair.

Lucien let out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes again.

Home. This was what it felt like.

One evening, Lucien found her outside, standing by the river that bordered their land. Fireflies danced above the shrubbery, the stars just beginning to peek through the deepening sky.

Without a word, he slipped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Nesta let herself lean back against him.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, listening to the sounds of nature, the gentle ripple of water, the distant hoot of an owl.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted softly. “Afraid this all just a dream.”

Lucien pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder. “It’s real.”

She turned in his arms, looking up at him. “Promise?”

Lucien cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I promise.”

taglist (comment to join!): @tele86

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father

Part 5:

Crassus' secretary was nervous as he wracked his brain for what to tell his boss. Where should he start when it comes to giving the cold, stern, and very imposing man advice about the little things he should do for his wife. Leo doesn't want to overstep. He doesn't know anything about Crassus' marriage to you, so he's afraid to give any advice.

But as Leo felt his boss’ stare pinning him into his desk chair he decides to give the imposing platinum blonde some simple, but vital advice of, “If you really want to make your wife smile then just ask her about her day.”

Crassus nods, only to say, “But I already know how her day is, she takes care of the baby all day.”

“I didn't know that you have a baby, General Snow.”

“Yes.” The stern man with slicked back platinum hair proudly grins. “He's a week old.”

Leo nods, feeling a bit awkward with the conversation he's having with his boss. How is it that Crassus has a week old baby with his wife, but is seeking advice on how to make his wife happy? He made the miracle of life with her, shouldn't he know how to interact with her? Or is it an arranged marriage full of surface level interaction?

Yea, it must be an arrangement lacking social interactions past the expected ones in the marriage bed.

“Well, Sir, I don't want to overstep, but I think that your wife would appreciate you asking about her day with the baby even if you assume you know how it went.” Leo told Crassus, hoping that he wouldn't offend his boss since he really needed his job. He has bills to pay, you know.

“Hmm…” Crassus nods.

“Oh, and don't interrupt her even if what she's talking about sounds mundane and boring. Just nod and wait for an opening to compliment her story with a ‘that’s nice’, or an ‘oh, really’.” Leo adds in, figuring that Crassus seems like the type that needs the reminder.

“And this’ll work, make my wife happy?” Crassus asks, his voice as hard as stone.

“Most women like feeling important and letting them talk about their day uninterrupted does that.” Leo Davis explained what all husbands should know. But, as it turns out, Crassus is the exception to the rule.

“Ah.” The imposing war hero half-nods. “My first wife and I didn't live together for more than a few weeks at a time; I was deployed in 12 as the Commander during that marriage, so I'll take your word for it when it comes to communicating with my current wife.” Crassus remarks before turning his back to his secretary and returning to his office to work on something vital to Panem's national security’s budget proposal that's due to be sent to President Ravenstill for review soon.

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of Dr. Gaul’s lab that's housed in the Citadel…

Coriolanus followed Dr. Gaul inside of the sterilized white room, bright fluorescent lights revealing that the test subject wasn't a rat or even a new mutt, but a human. A girl to be exact.

The blonde boy's baby blue eyes widened slightly at the girl, who was all skin and bones, that was tied to a metal lab table with 4-point restraints. Looking between the girl and his mentor, Coriolanus curiously asks, “What're we going to do to her?”

“Bibity, bobity, Snow’s first lobotomy.” The mad scientist sing-songed, gesturing towards an instructional guide, a drill, and a tool that looked like an ice pick that was on the surgical tray table by the subject’s mental bed.

Coriolanus was a bit confused. He learned in psychology class that the lobotomy procedure is controversial and banned. “But I thought that medical practice was banned by Panem's founding fathers?” He asks his mentor, wondering why she was going to have him perform it

“Yes, the procedure has been banned on civilized humans, such as the people residing in this very city, but your test subject today is nothing more than a lab rab- a rebellious little girl that was caught rummaging in the woods outside of District 12 like an animal.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus while going over to a cabinet on the other side of the room and grabbing a pair of blood red latex gloves for her protege to perform the operation on.

“The sooner you realize that the people of the districts are no better than animals the better equipped at ruling and controlling them you'll be.” The salt and pepper frizzy haired woman told her pupil while walking over to him, red gloves in hand. “I see a greatness in you, Young Snow. A greatness to be even more successful in ruling over others then your father, Crassus.” Dr. Gaul tells Coriolanus while stopping in front of him and handing him over the gloves.

“You think I could be greater than my father?” Coriolanus asks, taking the gloves from his mentor.

“Oh, I know so, Coriolanus Snow. In fact, I believe that you'll make Panem proud with all the wonderful things you're capable of.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus, inflating his ego. “I'll be leaving you alone with the test subject to perform the procedure. I’ve left instructions; I'm sure you can handle this on your own.”

“Of course I can, Dr. Gaul.” The ambitious young blonde assured the mad scientist. Even if the thought of performing a lobotomy on a little girl turned his stomach, he'd do it to prove himself to his mentor.

His mentor who thought he'd be a greater man than his father, the war hero General Crassus Snow.

“Make sure to keep your rest subject talking during the procedure; if she stops talking then you either drilled in too far or cut out too much brain matter. But either way, if she's damaged I'll have you dispose of her.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus, acting as if she was giving him instructions on how to remove an ingrown toenail, before walking out of the room and leaving her protege alone with the little girl from 12- the poor test subject doomed to be a lab rat because she wasn't viewed as a human in the mad scientist eyes.

“Please, stop, it hurts! It hurts!” The girl, whose golden pigtails were tangled and matted against the metal examining table, screamed at the top of her lungs as Coriolanus was drilling a hole into her skull.

“Shut up or else I could kill you, fucking animal.” Coriolanus snapped at his test subject while continuing to drill thru her skull.

“The things by my eye and it hurts.” The little girl cried as the drill moved right next to her eyeball, breaking thru the skull bone in her eye socket.

“Damnit, you cry more than my son does and he's a baby.” Coriolanus grumbled as the bit of the drill hit a small piece of the test subject’s brain while breaking all the way thru her skull.

Meanwhile on the Corso in the Snow family 12th floor penthouse…

You're sitting in the main room of your penthouse, watching Grandma'am rocking Cassian in her arms while cooing at the baby. The sight of your mother-in-law holding your son puts a smile on your melancholy face. It made you feel like you weren't alone in taking care of your baby; made you realize that you had support during your motherhood journey.

“I’m glad that you're a hands-on grandmother, Grandma'am.” You honestly tell the old woman as your son's icy blue eyes start to flutter heavily from being rocked.

“Oh, my sweet dear, I must admit that I'm happy to have a new baby in the house to breathe fresh life into it.” Grandma'am told you while gesturing that she wanted to pass the baby back to you. Since you're sitting next to each other on the sofa, it'll be easy to take the baby back from her. As you extend your arms for your mother-in-law to place the baby into, she tells you, “Cassian Xandros is just what you and Crassus’ marriage needs to grow and evolve into something more than a surface level bond.”

Cassian blinks his icy eyes at you and smiles before closing them. Your son reminds you so much of his father; your lover- Coriolanus. You can't help, but feel a hollow feeling inside of your soul as you think about how Coriolanus seems too worried about himself then you and the baby. That his studies and internship seem to mean more to him than the family he created with you.

A family he begged you to have.

Honestly, you and Crassus never discussed the possibility of having children. You got married shortly after graduating the Academy and he usually pulled out whenever he did fuck you. And since the subject of children never came up, you just assumed that your marriage would be childless. You even told Coryo that once or twice, which is why he was so desperate to give you a baby. Coriolanus wanted to give you something he knew that only he could give; something to tie you and him together forever.

But now that you're home with Grandma'am and the baby all day with a lack of support from both your husband and your lover, well…

Let's just say that you'll be talking to your doctor about birth control options during your 6-weeks postpartum check up.

“I don't think Cassian's going to fix my loveless marriage with your son." You bluntly tell your mother-in-law while gently rocking your son in your arms. “I doubt he truly even wanted to become a father again either.”

“Oh, Y/N, don't say that.” Grandma'am firmly tells you. “Crassus comes across as if he doesn't care, but he does. He's just a stern man, my dear.” She assures you while patting your shoulder in a motherly fashion.

“He threatened to get rid of Cassian if he was born a girl instead of a boy, Grandma'am.” You remind the old woman, who's bejeweled turbin shines like a disco ball in the bright light of the sun. “Cassian’s just a spare male heir for Crassus, nothing more and nothing less.”

And now you wonder if Coriolanus even loves your son. He rarely spends time with your baby, always using his studies as an excuse not to help with diaper changes or settling the baby down. Hell, it seems like Coryo spends more time at the University’s library than he does in Cassian's nursery.

“Y/N, dear, you have to understand that Crassus' first wife, Demeter, died in premature labor brought on by the first rebel bombings. That along with Demeter, their daughter Calla was too tiny to survive and died less than an hour after being born.”

“I'm not Demeter and my baby's not hers either, Grandma'am. I think Crassus is smart enough to know that considering he works for the Ministry of War as the Minister of National Security.” You state with a slight edge to your voice. Rising from the sofa, you announce, “I'm going to put him down; then I'll make some cucumber sandwiches for our tea time.”

“Despite looking like your mother you act awfully a lot like your father, so I hope you won't write off my son because he thinks he doesn't deserve an ounce of happiness in his life due to his previous failures.” Grandma'am tells you as you begin to walk away from the sofa and towards the hallway.

You don't respond to her, just keep walking away. Honestly, you don't want to think about let alone talk about her last words to you. You can't because they give a plausible reason for your husband's cold and indifferent attitude.

Crassus walks inside of his penthouse determined to put the advice Leo gave him to good use. He even came home at a decent hour instead of right when dinner’s being served. The sound of your husband's loafers echoing on the marble floor makes you furrow your brow. Crassus never comes home before 7 and it's nearly 6:30, so you're a bit startled.

You're watching your son as he sits in his swing when your husband comes in, briefcase clutched in his hand. But, instead of taking his briefcase to his office he places it on the glass coffee table and takes a seat on his sitting chair, which is caddy cornered to the sofa you're on. The stoic platinum blonde looks around, only to ask, “Where's mother and Coriolanus?”

“Grandma'am's visiting Pluribus; I'm sure she'll be home within the next 15 minutes.” You tell Crassus, earning a nod from him. “And Coriolanus never came home, so I assume he's in the University library burning the midnight oil in preparation for his upcoming finals.” You add in, since he did inquire about his firstborn son after all.

“I imagine once he graduates and officially becomes an Assistant Gamemaker under Dr. Gaul that he'll be keeping odd hours since the scientist practically lives in her lab.” Crassus knowingly remarks. But before you could make a reply, he gives you a thin smile and asks, “So, Petal, how was your day?”

What? Did he just ask you how your day was? What's wrong with him? He never asks you that? In fact he rarely talks to you at all if it isn't about something mundane, something that needs discussing.

“Um, I talked to Grandma’am and tended to the baby.” You tentatively answer your husband. In a way, you think it's a trick and Crassus is just going to chuckle and leave the room. It's not like he sits around chatting with you, far from it.

‘What did you and Grandma'am talk about?” Crassus pries, hoping that you'll smile or something if you relay to him what you and his mother spoke about.

But you just wave him off with a simple, “Ladies things, nothing you need to worry about.”

And then Crassus remembers that a mother's joy is her child, so he asks, “Well, how was our son today?”

“Oh, Cassian’s been good today.” You answer with a smile. A smile that your cold, unfeeling husband can't help, but wants to see permanently painted on your face. “But he's always a good baby.”

The fact that your husband was now showing an interest in your week old son had your head spinning. You're taken aback that he seems concerned about Cassian. You thought that the baby was just a spare heir to Crassus, so him asking about the baby made you wonder what was up with him. Did he suddenly decide to step up as a father or did he get abducted by aliens?

You hope it's the former. You really do. “Do you want to hold him?” You ask Crassus before you can think better of it.

“I'll get him from the swing, just sit down and tell me about what you and our boy got up to today.” Crassus told you, rising to his feet.

Watching him walk the few yards to collect your son from his baby swing, you begin to tell your husband about your day with the baby. Albeit, you think you'll probably bore him out of his mind, but you tell him anyway.

And a few minutes later when Grandma'am comes home from visiting Pluribus, she sees Crassus sitting on his sitting chair, cradling Cassian while you're telling your husband about being peed on while changing a shitty diaper. Crassus was laughing, causing you to tell him that it wasn't funny before bursting into a giggle fit of your own.

And the sight made Grandma'am hopeful that you and her son would work things out. She doesn't interrupt the family moment, instead she goes to the kitchen to inquire about dinner from the cook.

But your family moment with Crassus and Cassian does get interrupted by Coriolanus when he storms into the main room. He's got a hauntes look in his icy eyes as he scoffs, “Oh, father, I see you're acting like you suddenly care about mommy and the baby. How nice of you to act like a family man for once.”

“Coriolanus, unless you want me to cut off your allowance I advise you to watch your tongue.” Crassus scolds his firstborn, his icy eyes narrowed in warning.

“Dinner should be ready soon, I better put Cassian down.” You announce, cutting the tension in the air like a knife, as you bolt up from the sofa and rush over to Crassus.

“Mommy, can I see him before you put him down?” Coriolanus asks, watching as his father hands his son over to you.

“If you wanted to see him then you shouldn't have spent the entire afternoon in the library. It's dinner time; he needs a nap.” You tell Coryo before walking by him and going to the nursery.

“That’s not fair, Y/N-” Coriolanus begins to shout while starting to follow you, only to be cut off by Crassus jumping up to his feet and stopping him with a firm hand around his arm and the order of, “Leave my wife alone, Coriolanus. If you want to see your brother so badly then see him after dinner.”

Coriolanus yanks his arm out of his father's hold, only to give him a pissy look and storm off towards the dining room. The younger Snow thinks it's ridiculous how he has to bow down to his father when it comes to you and the baby. He hates how he has to watch his family be claimed by his father, who in his opinion doesn't deserve you or the baby.

Coriolanus swears that once he becomes successful he's going to take you and the baby away from his father. In fact, the young man with the light blonde curls is certain that he'll be successful sooner rather than later given how well his first lab experiment went. He successfully did the procedure without any harm to the lab rat and since he did so well, Dr. Gaul has agreed to let him monitor the vitals on it; to conduct more experiments as well.

As long as he keeps impressing the mad scientist and soaking in her beliefs like a sponge he's certain that he'll become a bigger success than his father. That he'll have the power to make you his and to claim your son as his.

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