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[seventhcallisto]

Chapter ⅰ. "loved by."

— His Cologne.

An/Cw; innocent forehead and neck kisses. Touching. Some arguing. Briefest mentions of domestic violence and scars(other characters). Lots and lots and LOTS of world building. Read prologue, or you'll be v confused. Idk how to word count on here or know how corporate people talk goodbye. (Also I don't have favorites, i love all my men equally)

Wonwoo had another toss and turn night. He's gotten less and less sleep these past weeks than he's ever had in his entire life. His mind can't stop wondering. He's plagued by nightmares of their missing soulmate. The one who begged as she pulled away. Cried like she was being tortured. It transfers into his dreams. Haunted him when he woke up grasping the sheets. Gasping for air every time. Only to realize she wasn't there next to him.

"Hey." Mingyu side steps wonwoo, having just woken up himself, the house was fairly empty, many of the guys were doing their shoots, filming, and/or out. Because of that, wonwoo and mingyu have the house to themselves. The only sound of birds chirping could be heard through cracks in the windows. Gyu pulls a bowl and a bag of cereal, pouring himself some. He glances at wonwoo, occasionally watching him stir breakfast in a large pan. After pouring some milk, he leans against the kitchen counter. Eyeing wonwoos quiet behavior.

"What's wrong?" Yes. He already knows the answer. He can feel something has been awry with wonwoo since.. well. A while. "Nothing.." he lies with a sigh, looking over his glasses at mingyu. Gyu slurps the cereal off his spoon. "Bullsh1t," he mumbles through a mouthful, wonwoo grimaces. "You've been off for weeks, don't tell cheol I'm saying this, but.. You're not telling us either. Not even i know what's wrong.." mingyu looks up through his lashes, stirring his cereal half hazerdly.

Before wonwoo replies, mingyu is chewing through another bite. Wonwoo sighs. His eyes are cast back down to his wrist. The golden goldfish taunts him. "I met another.. one of us, the fourteenth one." it's so casually said. Gyu chokes on his bite. Coughing and sputtering into the sink. "What? Like.." he points to the spot right under his own ear. There's a mark there, small, barely noticeable. It's uncompleted and messy. Saturn, surrounded by its rings.

Wonwoo nods.

You're gonna get fired, but maybe it's what you deserve. Your boss was somewhat upset you left without saying goodbye. Eunha has always been a kind soul to you. You've spent all your time sucking up to her for weeks. Anything to distract you. You mindlessly play with your ear. Caressing your own soul mark. Everyone is born with their own soul mark. It isn't until later their soulmates' mark comes through. You were born with saturn behind your right earlobe, tiny specks of the galaxy shining behind it, the colors vibrant against your skin tone.

You're taking a walk after work. Already dressed to visit some places you had on your bucket list. Not to toot your own horn, but you're feeling better. There's nothing wrong with pampering yourself every once in a while.

"Thank you," you tell the cashier as she checks you out. Bags upon bags lay on your arms when you step out back into the street. Shops line back to back, you glance at each. Taking your time. Spring is almost in full bloom. You find yourself wanting to go out more to enjoy the things you haven't taken the time to before. Your eyes scan every sign, every decoration you enjoy or find adorable. You slow to a stop in front of a bus stop. You glance at the advertisements and help wanted posters.

'Soul mark removal session - book by appointment,' the paper reads. 'Lee Hyun,' the soul doctor in the paper smiles brightly. You want to look away, to pretend you didn't see it for some reason. Yet you reach out and pull off a piece of paper with a number. Turning it over and then shoving it in your pocket.

Not even the next hour you're calling the number, your fingers tap against your marble counter as you wait for the dial tone on speaker. You're on hold for ten minutes. The price of morals is high on your mind. "Hello, this Jane with Soul Surge. How may I help you today?" Your conversation with the desk lady is quick, yet you're still tapping your fingers in anticipation as you continue booking your appointment. "And you will be billed two days after your first appointment. How would you like to pay? Alright.." her keyboard clicks.

"Alright, I have scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Lee, would you like a reminder? " Before you know it, you're done talking and hanging up. An appointment next week. You sigh, the burden on your shoulder still feels heavy. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The next week comes sooner than later. You're lacking with work because you're so distracted. You bite your lip and toss before sleep the day before. You stare at yourself in a mirror. The first time you've worn clothes that show the majority of your soul marks. Your face grows ever redder at what people will think. For such a young girl to have so many marks on her? It feels scandalous. You pull a jacket over. Although the weather reads warmer than it has all week.

You're called into Dr. Lees office. You're sat across his pristine white desk. "What can I do for you today?" He starts off, a kind smile on his aged lips. You sigh "well I have thirteen soul marks. And I would like to get them removed. " You emphase with your hands, eyebrows furrowed. "That certainly is a number, I admit I do not think I've had a customer with that many, but that shouldn't be a problem. May I take a look?"

You show him all the ones you can reach on your own. If he's surprised, you can't tell. He throws away his gloves, sliding back into his chair. "I'm able to remove only a few of your soulmates' marks on you at a time, but if I can remove your own mark fully, then with time, the others should dissappear." You nod. There is a solution, after all. "And, sorry but- I've heard that after the mark is removed, the person who removed them feels..lonely?"

He laughs lightly, "No, no, that is a complete urban legend." You let out the air you're holding. It's too good to be true. And you're right. "But the other people involved, the other soulmate or soulmates will go through major discomfort, uhm, it will go away in less than a year, permanently. If you are to get it removed, you will never be able to make a connection with your soulmate." his tone is somewhat cheerful. Yet the dread in your stomach builds as he goes on.

"Oh," you don't have a response to his words. He notices your face dropping. "But, like I mentioned. the discomfort feeling should go away within a year-long period." He uses his hands to emphase his words. "And these - the discomfort feeling. How does it feel for the soulmates involved exactly?" You press, pulling your bag onto your lap to hug it. Comforting yourself.

"Well. The effect should take place directly after the removal process. They'll feel a slight burning, like an ant bite sensation. Eventually, after a few days, it'll turn into an urge to itch the spot. The spot will swell and redden within a couple of weeks, and soon enough, week by week, pieces of it will be absorbed through the skin. The symptoms may vary depending on the person. Nowadays, there are creams to help with the symptoms and process."

You bid the Dr goodbye.

Before your treck home, you decide to visit some more attraction spots while you're in the city. You're happy you can afford the luxuries, but you've already overgone your budget this month. You watch street performers, and occasionally, you'll grab a treat to take home to eat as you walk. One snack won't hurt. Your hands are in your jacket. Enjoying the afternoon breeze. In the back of your mind, you're thinking about the decision you want to make.

"Oh, excuse me!" A lady not much older than you apologizes as she bumps into you, her stomach is wide with pregnancy, two kids sit in a double stroller, no older than a year. She has her hands full. "Oh no, that's my fault," you wave her off politely, looking at the stairs behind her. "Would you like some help?" You offer, she smiles gratefully. "If it isn't too much to ask.." she laughs lightly. You're holding the end of the stroller as you slowly decend the stairs.

Once you reach the end of the stairs, she's bowing her head, thankfully. "Thanks, uhm.." You tell her your name. "What a lovely name, surely to bring good luck, I'm Kim Jiung," you smile. "Are you a shaman, perhaps?" She smiles back, pushing the stroller forward. You follow with a short pace. Stepping side by side. "My husband is," she continues, "when i was your age, he was the most desired shaman on the block." she laughs as she reminisces. "I met my husband asking for advice." she stops the stroller and lifts her long sleeved floral navy blue dress all the way up to her elbow. Scars litter most of her arm.

On the inner curve of her elbow is a crown placed on a perfectly red pillow, the diamonds in the crown shift as she turns it towards you. "That's when I found my soulmate," she cheerily smiles, pushing the stroller once again. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, yet it's a sweet story. "Because of the law placed for soulmates, i was able to divorce my husband at the time." A sad look crosses her face. "He was a women hitter. And a drunk. It got worse when I told him about my current husband, youngwin. The process took a year to complete." She smiles to herself at the end. "I wouldn't change the hurt for anything," her hand goes to caress her belly.

"Weren't you scared he'd reject you.. because you were married?" You ask suddenly. She's not taken aback in the slightest. "Never," she sighs peacefully. The sun sets to your left, and the sidewalk is void of many people. "He was the most understanding person in the world," she turns to look at you. "My parents never approved of my relationships. They didn't help me when my ex-husband got violent." She smiles sadly. "But my youngwin did," she turns to begin pushing the stroller again.

You stutter to a stop, watching as she takes a few steps ahead. She looks back to see where you are. Then she sits on a bench. She swings the stroller around to look at her babies, wiping her hand against one of their faces softly. "Healing takes a while on your own, but when you have support, it's much easier to get through the days," she coos at the kids softly. You feel sluggish as you walk over and sit next to her, the settling silence nips you.

You watch the children grasp onto their toys and laugh joyously at their mothers' tickles. Her soothing words bring out coos from the twins that make you smile. "How soon are you due?" You ask, turning to face her. She pats her stomach. "Only four and a half more months," she makes a motion, crossing her fingers. You laugh. "A summer baby, thankfully, I can not do any more winter due dates. i already have plenty of winter siblings," she finishes off, pulling out a snack for the twins. You hum quietly.

"I was an only child to three parents, even that was too much for them," you snicker. Leaning back on the bench, you watch the twins messily smack their food around. She turns to look at you.

"Sometimes children can make or break a couple." You know she doesn't mean anything by it. She's just feeding conversation. You're still reminded of that fateful June night. She takes notice of your silence and your distant expression. "I get it,.. it can be hard, but if you're willing to.. you know - talk to each other. That's always the first step to getting better." She smiles reassuringly. Squeezing the hand on your leg. "When my husband and I finalized our soul bond. I was scared of him not liking me - not my past. But me. It was hard for us to communicate." She sighs. Squeezing your hand again. Her eyes fall to your soul marks. Both on your wrists.

"But we got through it because he stayed, and he cared. And I wanted to get better for him, with him." she pats your hand. "Whatever it is, I'm genuinely sure it will work out for you." her gaze is soft and kind like a mother's. You find yourself giving a small smile back.

The week you met jiung your head swirled with unease, she takes some of it away with her advice. She's updated you on her life almost every day. You've become close friends, possibly even best friends in the span of the week. Although older than you she is definitely the more lively and extroverted one in your friendship. You don't mind though, her positivity is a breath of fresh air. Pictures of her twins, Jino and Jina fill your messages. You can't help but adore their chubby faces, their petite pregnant mom holds them up for one photo smiling gleefully, you assume her husband took the photo. 'They're getting bigger than me!' The text after announces.

Your appointment for your soul mark removal is soon. You're not nervous if you don't think about it every second. The man- soulmate you bumped into seemed well off, right? His clothing was designer. His glasses, too. He- and his other soulmates will be able to afford the solution cream.. right? Whenever you think about him too much, your heart flitters. You try to focus on the small things in your life. And not the way he stared at you. The way his name echos in your head every so often. The way your soul mark yearns to be connected with his. What it'll feel like to be connected with the others as well, how they feel, what they're like. Your mind betrays your wishes not to have those thoughts.

In the midst of night, you're cursed with dreams, Tangled into sheets, laughing with him. More than one person is there, every so often the bed sinks in and you can fel yourself pressed against another person. Skin meets skin in soft, innocent touches, just wishing to be close to each other. The sun beats through the sheets, creating an angelic like glow. You can never make out the murmurs and whispers. When he steps out of the blanket, you miss his touch. You feel empty without him. And then, you wake up, usually groaning at your mind for creating such a tantalizing dream. One you can't forget the next day.

Mingyu is no stranger to the looks his members give him. "What do you know?" Seungkwan is the first to ask, jutting his head at the older guy sitting in the makeup chair. He pushes on mingyu's shoulder, biting into an apple slice. "No, it's a secret. I promised Woo," gyu mumbles, crossing his arms. Across the room, wonwoo sleeps in his chair while the makeup artists finish. He's catching up on missed – well deserved – sleep.

"We're tied, remember? I have a right to know. We don't keep secrets," Seungkwan pouts, chewing the rest of his apple slice down. Gyu also pouts, a reactive thing he copies. Seungcheols chin falls on top of mingyu's head, eavesdropping the entire time. An urging look is in his eyes, encouraging mingyu to go on. He almost gives in. "No. I can't, it's something you have to ask wonwoo about." He sighs and turns away from his members.

Seungcheol and seungkwan share a look over mingyu's makeup chair.

The drive back to the house is long, and wonwoo attempts to catch some more zzz's on the drive. The city lights bounce off the glass, it's well past 9 o'clock. Wonwoo gets the farthest window seat in the back. Hoshi and seungcheol are sat next to him. Arms thrown over each other to share warmth, cheol' head falls on hosh's shoulder, the absence of his snores is a tall tell sign he's not really asleep. Hoshi is pressed up against the other window. He's on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his timeline. Joshua, Dino, and Vernon take the middle seats, each one of them passing their phones around. They laugh quietly. Mingyu sits in the passenger, his eyes relaxed but not yet asleep.

Usually, a drive home like this would make wonwoo feel content. His soulmates being close by is enough to satisfy the need to be curled under a pile of them. He's lost in thought when the van comes to a stop at their building. Everyone begins to shuffle out. Wonwoo and mingyu are the last two to leave the van. Mingyu shoots a look at wonwoo when he steps out, watching his other member rub behind his ear, where the fourteenth soul mark is. Both of them - followed by their manager - walk into the building.

Everyone's already relaxed when they all get settled down. Movie night consists of seats being switched around here and there. Some don't even bother watching. Just lingering around on their phones or laptops, content to just listen in. Everybody needs some soul bonding. Lately, their energy is drained faster, even Jihoon can feel it. He sits on a single armchair, his laptop propped on his lap. His hoodie is rolled up his arm, while the rest of him drapes comfortably in the chair.

Jihoon mindlessly rubs his soul mark, the planet behind his ear. It stings every so often, like it would when he's been away from his soulmates for too long. He sees wonwoo most days doing the same rubbing motion on his ear. No matter how he tries to avoid asking wonwoo what's been going on, he can't help but feel he won't get an answer out of him even if he did. Wonwoo can definitely be secretive and stubborn sometimes. Jihoon glances to wonwoo and mingyu, talking quietly in the kitchen just around the corner. Only he can see them stare at each other, a heated discussion beginning to rise.

He tries to listen in, but it's too loud with the movie. The rest of the members are wrapped around each other on the couch, work clothing and blankets string about here and there, and they haven't had much time to clean up recently. Jihoon slips out of the living room quietly, leaving his closed laptop in his spot. Only cheol blinks an eye for a split second, watching jihoon go.

Jihoon quietly walks into the kitchen, which is dim except for the microwave light that pops popcorn every second or so. Wonwoo stands with his head hung low, defeated. Gyu turns to the sounds of shuffling, glancing between jihoon and wonwoo. Jihoon stares back, a questionable look on his face when he glances between the two quiet men.

"We need to talk," wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes only meet halfway with Jihoons.

Your favorite place on earth was your bed, minus the crumbs. You had spent your first paycheck on it, and you don't regret it at all. It's a king size on the floor. You're perfectly content with it. You can lie and say you're always perfectly content. Today is a lie day.

Your face is squished against your sheets, and your phone is propped up on a pillow. Your appointment isn't until 12. You can feel every one of your soul marks pulse every once in a while. A hearty rhythm you've gotten used to, but you're highly opposed to. A pulling urge to get out of bed and wander the streets til you find who you're looking for. You rub your tired eyes. It was a strange night. Series of dreams plaguing your mind when they're still fresh.

You stand on the sidewalk, golden hues paint every corner. Jiung is no longer pregnant, and her kids aren't currently with her. Surely an image of her your dream made up. She talks mindlessly as you walk. Your eyes never stray from her. "You'll know what to do. The timing will be perfect. Everything will fall into place." She repeats every so often. You're in the most expensive outfit you've ever bought, one you used for clubbing when you turned 21, and you never wore again. Every shiney piece of it sparkles like diamonds caught on flash. In the next moment, you lift your head up to photographers and cameras flashing in your face. You go to shield your face, but you're already being pulled away by your shoulder. You blink your eyes, and you're in an airport now. Faceless strangers shove their phones in your face. A hand tugs on your own, pulling you along, another guides your waist. Both help ease the twisted feeling arising. You're crowded between people escorting you. As soon as you begin feeling claustrophobic, you fall into a weightless state. Floating mindlessly before drifting down into a bed. Your bed. Sheets are neatly tucked in, but blankets strew all of the area. As you continue to look, the bed seems to grow. You can hear the distant sound of clattering in your kitchen, yet you can't see anything pass the bed. Quiet talking and whispers, they're purposeful as if they're trying not to wake you.

You're falling back in, head laid on a broad chest. You can hear their heartbeat through their shirt. Strong and steady. Content. Their voice rumbles a melody, humming soft. Behind you is another chest pressed to your back. Their hand is tucked under your neck, soothing strokes to the base of your hair. Warm lips pressed to your forehead. Another pair falls on your soul mark.

When you wake up. You can't determine your own feelings at the reality of it. No one is pressed by your sides stroking your face and head like you wish. No one is pressing soft, delicate kisses to your forehead and neck. No one is humming to you. After you stretch and yawn, you're doing your morning routine. Humming the melody to yourself.

You crack eggs for breakfast. You tune turning more quiet as you focus on what you're doing. By the time you're done cooking it's 10. You don't have the appetite anymore, but you're obligated to eat something before your appointment. You eat what you can and get ready.

You're taking your time now. When you pull your socks on your finger strokes the infinity mark on your ankle, then each of your hands gently touch the shooting star and goldfish on your wrists. When you pull your clothes up past your thighs, you watch the branch get hidden, you watch It meet just over your hips. Fingerprints, the beautiful figure beneath your belly button, and the moon hide away. Then you pull your shirt over your shoulder. You eye the rose, glancing down at the blackhole on your collarbone. You cant see it but you can feel the pulse of the butterfly and the tiger on your back. You reach up to touch the back of your neck. The dragon shifts when you glide your finger over it. All of these intricate marks will be gone. Including your own. Your soulmates will feel the pain of loosing one of their own. You'll never meet them. Never talk to them. Never know the details about them.

What's gotten into you? Since when did you care?

Why do you care?

You're picking up your phone before you know it, you're breathing hard. Why are you breathing so hard? You take a few slow breaths. Your hands grip the phone tightly while you dial Soul Surge.

"I'd like to cancel my appointment."

The news hits the boys like a train. Wonwoo had not just single handedly refused to tell his soulmates about the woman, but mingyu had hid it too. Their other soulmate. "Why didn't you tell us this?" Seungkwan sighs. "Wait." Dokyeom interjected standing from the couch. "So that light was you two?" Dokyeom grabs wonwoos shoulders, shaking him. "I was right there! How does gyu know before I do?" Wonwoos face shows displeasure, many of the boys are about to intervene. Seungcheol pushes dokyeom back gently from wonwoos space. Kyeom can tell cheol is serious when he doesn't bat an eye at his outburst. He takes his seat next to Dino.

"Well," joshua buts in, he tucks a hand under his chin, his arm propped up on the counter. "Maybe she had her reasons to run." he can buy it himself. It's very possible. The room returns to silence. Cheol shifts from his feet, deep in thought. He stops short, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You two did connect, right?" Seungkwan asks before cheol can, and Wonwoo nods. woozi speaks up. "Then that means she and you will find your way to each other"

Letting the universe and soul connect doing its thing takes too long in mingyus opinion. Everyone decided so anyway. Mingyu was oddly the only one to object. At night, he thinks about it. What'd it be like to finally meet her. What kind of personality would she have? What her likes are. Does she like music? Does she know who they are? Is she a carat? His mind fogs at the number of questions. She's been running around his mind ever since wonwoo told him.

He finds himself restlessly trying to convince his members to step up so they can find her quicker. Maybe he's looking for someone to back him up. Mingyu can be personally driven. And maybe this is something he shouldn't be doing. He's out doing his own thing that day. He doesn't have any filming to do. So his hand reaches for his phone, turning his neck to the side and throwing up peace between his fingers. The fourteenth soul mark is on display. His phone audio shutters when he takes the photo.

Only five slides of him. A tight black tee with a low collar, he's perched on a ledge. One in a black tank in the gym, one of him drinking some type of drink. Mingyu. His name is in Hangul, on the side of the flimsy paper cup. His peace photo. Lastly, it is just a picture of the back of his neck. His head is turned. In every photo, the planet is in clear view. The majority of the time, he can't post pictures with the fourteenth soul mark. The company decided against it.

'It'll cause controversy to the public'

This time, he decides to break some company rules. " 🪐 " is the only thing in the caption.

It's the same day jiung drags you into town. "Girls trip!" She laughs so heartily, clinging to your arm at your front door. On her form is a yellow spring dress. And you're in a drop shoulder oversized tee, a pair of loose pants. She takes you to the most popular jewelry store on the strip, waiting in line. "Why are we here?" You ask, she doesn't tell you. "You'll know soon enough!'" She pouts playfully. And maybe she uses her pregnancy to get your spot in the store faster. You don't point it out.

A young lady tightens a metal of your choice to your right ankle, and the accents blend perfectly. Jiung gets a rose gold color on hers, baby blue accents that look perfect against her tan skin, and lastly, a single seashell pendant to match with her own soul mark. "You don't have to get the pendant," she tells you with a smile shuffling on her one foot as they tighten the bracelet to her. She knows you don't particularly take fond of your soul mark.

"No, I'll get the pendant," you smile back to reassure yourself. You watch now as the younger lady fastens the bracelet to your ankle. Zapping it into place. A permanent ankle bracelet is now tied to you. You're not upset at the decision.

"Thanks for coming with me, I didn't think you'd want to get one, though," jiung smiles, her eyes on her own ankle bracelet as she walks in her flip-flops. "Their designs were too pretty to pass up," you say, you both stop in front of another store on the strip. This one has a couple of cut-out boards on the outside. You don't recognize any of them except for j-hope of bts. It's chained down. You stare in surprise.

"People really steal those?" Jiung laughs like what you said is the funniest thing in the world. "I took the d.o one they had out a year ago," she reminisces. You stare in shock, jaw-dropping. "Jiung!" You scold, she pulls you into the store before you have anything else to say. Once you get over the initial shock of the store decorations, you're wandering around. A couple of albums catch your eyes. Your hand scans over the records.

Here and there are a few people. But it isn't crowded. A couple of young girls, no younger than high schoolers, scroll on their phones, taking pictures of the album section, the laugh boisterously. They switch off to take photos of each other with their newly bought albums. You make sure to stay out of their shots. Not far away, you're at the plush section with jiung. She talks to herself about which plush she wants. "Dwaekki or Quokka.." You zone out when the loud girls squeal.

"Oh! Mingyu just posted!" A confused 'huh?' Follows. Okay. Maybe you're curious yourself. You secretly eavesdrop into their quiet conversation, squeezing a plush you got from the shelf, its a wolf with only a shirt on, a content expression on its face. A notification peaks jiungs interest. It's a jingle pop. Her phone is in her right hand while the plush is in her left. She gasps. Your head whips around towards her, glancing over her shoulder at her screen.

There in bold reads; "SEVENTEEN 14TH SOUL MARK REVEALED!" followed by a collage of zoomed in photos of a guy, his hair is short but on the base of his neck is the planet.

Your planet. Your saturn. Glittered with galaxies behind him. When you go to double look, you can feel your neck crick in protest. Jiung calls your name. Shock on her face. She stares at your neck. Gosh. The one day you decide not to wear something that'll cover your neck AND you forgot your jacket. You slap your palm over your neck.

Your name is called again. Jiung has taken the plush from your hand, putting it back on the shelf. "Let's go," She says, so casually glancing behind you. You continue to stare, nothing coming from your throat. You follow her gaze. The two girls' heads shoot back down to one of the phones. "Doesn't it look like hers?" They whisper. Just your luck. "Ji, I-" she grabs your arm and marches to the front of the store, your head is downturned. This can't be real. How could all of this happen? How does-

The girls stop you. "It's you, isn't it!?" Their tone borderlines obsessive fangirls. "No, please move," jiung speaks for you, her arms hold you defensively by your shoulders. You're starting to regain your senses. The girls push your shoulder, acting playful "gosh I didn't know someone so ordinary would be one of their soulmates." The other girl pouts, "She doesn't look good enough for mingyu." her tongue clicks, both of them shove their hands over their arms.

Jiung goes to defend you. "Hey! Why are you two bothering customers?! This is the third time this month!" An older lady yells, she comes over with a book in hand. The girls look shocked, they bow their heads, and Apologize. Sneaking looks at you two that are heated. It's pretty forced. "ajumeoni! We're just talking!" "ajumeoni! Have you restocked the txt albums?" Their voices get high pitched. Shoulders bumping yours and jiung as they pass.

"Let's get you outta here," jiung sighs. She pulls you out the door.

You're in a state of shock.

Jiungs apartment is homely, fit for a family. Boxes pile upon each other. "Sorry it's messy, we're moving soon," she sulks, pushing a box with her foot. She takes a seat on her couch. Patting the spot next to her. You move from the hallway and sit. "Girl talk?" She suggests. "Or we can watch a movie. The twins are with youngwins' mothers. So I have until tomorrow off. " she shifts with her feet under her.

You don't think about it. "Girl talk," you sigh, staring into her dark eyes. When you explain everything. No, really. Everything to her. She takes it upon herself to rub your arm in a soothing gesture. "And.. then I canceled the appointment." You finished. She shifts to get closer to you. "Oh honey" she pats your hand.

"You are such a sad fool," she sighs. You pull your head up, looking at her. "Excuse me?" She stutters. "t-that came out wrong. What I meant was you're not giving it a chance to work out; I mean. I understand not being ready. I do. I don't know what you went through to have done all of that. And there's not a way to change the past. So you'll have to pull yourself out of this mess." She pats your hand again. "I recommend finding a way to talk to your soulmates, talk about it" you nod at her advice.

You exchange a few more sentences, and jiung is right in all cases and scenarios. "Everything will work out"

News spreads quickly in Seoul. You can't go outside much, and when you do, you always feel like someone is about to find out who you are. You usually grab your groceries as fast as you can. Always pulling at your shirt collar.

"Who are these guys again?" You ask on the phone, on your laptop, you're on naver searching up images. Jiungs kids can be heard giggling and fussing in the background. "They're seventeen. They're a 13 member boy group. You've heard of K-pop, right?" You say a simple 'uh-huh' "you know that song. Aju nice? It was pretty popular a few years back." "Nu-uh, nope," she sighs. "I was in America then," you respond casually. "America? Are you American?"

A notification pops up on your open browser. "BIGHIT Entertainment and PLEDIS Entertainment speak up about SEVENTEENS' 14th soul mark." Jiung speaks up for you. "Bighit and pledis are looking for their 14th soulmate," she mumbles through the speaker. "This could be your chance to talk to the company," she speaks your thoughts. You read the site briefly. "I think I'll email them." You nod like she can see it. Throughout the rest of your night, you fill out a detailed email, it takes you hours to come up with the right thing to say.

Everyone has given mingyu a piece of their mind and the silent treatment. But seungcheol? God. He's the quietest of them all. Mingyu is backstage, and many of the members stand around talking and / or getting their makeup retouched. He's not focused on anything particular, though. A frustrated sigh leaves his throat. He excuses himself from the makeup artist and walks over to cheol. Cheol stands tall, talking with jeonghan. His biceps flex against the stage outfit.

"Hyung" mingyu stops just shy of the two members. Jeonghan shoots a look at mingyu. One he knows says he's still upset at him. I mean, the whole reason they're not on strike right now is because this was pre-planned. Immediately, mingyus post was taken down by the company. His account is temporarily taken away. It's been more than a week. And now they're seeing if the public will let it slide under the rug.

Cheol parts from jeonghan who goes the other way. He stands face to face with mingyu. "I'm sorry," mingyu starts. he pauses. "That's it?" Cheol asks, folding his arms. "Mingyu, have you thought about what's going on?" Cheols' frustrated voice makes mingyu drop his head. "Yeah -" "You don't, though, Gyu. our soulmate is out there, and you know what wonwoo said. She ran away from him. It's possible she's not ready to see us. But we dont know unless she comes to us first." cheols voice turns more melancholic at the end.

Mingyus heart hurts, seeing him upset. He wants to reach out and hide away at the same time. "I'm sorry," he repeats himself. "I wasn't thinking," his voice grows quiet, the quietest he's ever been. Cheol can't help it when he reaches out and rubs his thumb on mingyus cheek. "I wanna see her too," he smiles sadly. Mingyu tilts his head into cheols palm. Wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cheol wraps his arm around him back. Ruffling his hair.

A man stands at your doorstep. Cloaked in normal everyday clothes, you would see on any stranger walking the street. "Hello?" He says your full name to your doorbell camera, leaning in too close. "Hello, this is she. Who are you?" You reply from your phone. You're at work at the moment. Your shift ends in less than 20 minutes. "Hello, I'm Song Jaeho with bighit and pledis entertainment. I have a few questions to ask you if that's alright. Do you happen to be home?"

Bighit-pledis ent..? You slap a hand over your mouth. Who told!? It wasn't jiung! Right!? No... she'd never. She respects your boundaries. Oh.. the girls. The two from that store! Oh wait. You sent an email.

Are you even ready for this?

"I.." You look at the time. 15 minutes. Screw it. "I'm not currently home, but I'm just about to get off work. It'll take less than five minutes," the man claps his hands, pulling back from the camera. "Great, I can wait in the lobby then"

"Eunha! I'm off. My parents had a medical emergency and need me to drive them," you clock out, praying no one notices your blatant lie. "Oh yeah, you go on! Tell them I said hello. " she's never met your parents. But is so kind anyway.

By the time you make it to your apartment lobby, you're just under 4 minutes. Mr. Song stands up and greets you. You bow your head back. "Hello," you smile politely. "Song jaeho." He shakes your hand. "I'm assuming you know why I am here," the hybe employee says. Crossing his hands together. "Is this possibly about my.." You point to the back of your ear. "Soul mark? Yes. Actually, it'd be much easier to talk somewhere more privately. Would you mind accompanying me for coffee?" You look around, and he's right. Many people come in and out of the building, and work for a good number of people is over.

The coffee shop is crowded for the afternoon. A good thing in your opinion, maybe you should have thought before following some strange man to a cafe you hardly know. You're lucky he caught you on a half day. You take the only available seats by the exit. The space is fairly far from the next person, so you'll be able to converse openly.

Once you order, jaeho gets down to business. He slides his card between you and folds his arms. "I am specifically the legal advisor for idols who are soulmates with non idols. I work for bighit and their departments. Now, to start off, I would like to first see your soul mark. It's a precaution, so we know you're -" You stop him there. Pushing your hair away and turning your head, you show him your soul mark. He sits up a bit to lean over, eyebrows furrowed. You scrub at it to prove your point. It doesn't flake or move. "It's genuine," you mumble. He sits back. "It seems so," he says skeptically.

"May I?" He points to your wrists. You sigh and lean your wrists out to him. "Go ahead, have at it," he turns and inspects the soul marks on your wrists closely. You watch the top of his thick hair while his glasses hang off the bridge of his flat nose. It's like he's trying to see if you're a real diamond.

"I apologize for the precautions. You can never be too safe." he lays the folder between you. Legal documents laid out perfectly. "What's this?" Song jaeho crosses his hands together, placing them on the table. He points to each sentence as he says them. "I'm assuming you know of the boys' status. They are celebrities, and we, as the company they are signed under, must take the proper precautions to prevent any harm coming to them. It's nothing personal. Strictly business." He smiles. It's not genuine.

"And you want me to sign this?" You stare. "Yes, I will guide you through all of what you'll be signing," he smiles again. Pulling each paper towards him. As he continues to explain. You get the feeling this is just an nda. You read whatever you can on your own, trying to catch any funny business if you can.

"Once I sign these, what will happen?" He pulls away and closes his folder. "Once you sign the paperwork, we'll be in contact shortly. If everything goes well, you should be able to meet all of them. There is no guarantee or specific date set in stone, though." You hum at that. Looking down at the stamped papers in your hands, you flip through each.

All that's stopping you is some paperwork. Yes, it's not as easy as you wish it was. But you can't run away again. And now, probably, is your last chance of meeting them.

"Could I use your pen?"

You're wringing your hands as you sit in a spacious room. It's been atleast two months since you've see song jaeho, you almost thought you had been scammed until he called and scheduled a meet up. You feel foolish when you say that. 'Meet up'. It's like this moment doesn't determine your future. Set in stone. You couldn't even pick what to wear. Should you have gone in your favorite outfit? Something modest? Sophisticated? Sexy? God, you're going crazy.

You place your head down on the arm of the couch. Sighing into it. Your nerves are shocked. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You take a few deep breaths. You smooth out your clothing, making sure it's pristine. You're lifting your head up to scan the room, it's a giant comfortable room, almost like a living room. It seems homely, it must be a place where the boys rest before makeup. You've caught up on the lore of kpop, thanks to jiung, and figured the rest out yourself, possibly through a series of videos.

Truly, you're trying not to run away. But song jaeho already knows where you live, and you need to get meeting them over with. What's your plan? What are you even doing here?

The door opens abruptly. For some reason, you shoot up. Three men step in first. You only recognize Jaeho. You can hear the footsteps echoing down the hallway. It's a wide amount of them.

You feel your heart thump in beat. It rings loudly in your ears. You want to hide. To run from the center of the room. Anything to get every eye off you. Your lips purse. You lick them gently. Suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

The shoes echos as they stop just outside the open door. You can make out some harsh whispering. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe they're just as nervous as you are. The thought makes your lip quirk. "Get in there!" A louder whisper cuts through. Your lip quirks into a smile. What were you getting yourself into?

One by one, models pass through the door. Why are there mod- it's like your heart leaps. You laugh internally. These guys.. these guys are Seventeen.

You can distinguish every one of them. Features you're fond of, already memorized. There's something so familiar about them. You can't put your finger on it.

Your hands squeeze by your side. Glancing from each guy to the four older men in suits. Each of the suited men talk to each other. "Take a seat, please," one of them breaks off from the secretive circle they had formed.

You plop yourself back down onto the couch, almost falling over from the cushioning. You smile to hide your embarrassment. There's only one other couch, and each guy attempts to fit on it. The shortest of them all takes the single armchair, smiling smugly as a much taller one complains about not having room. "I got here first," he says.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, and you bite your laugh down. The taller guy looks to you, a challenged smile on his face. You stare back with a small, a knowing look that definitely says 'yeah i laughed. What're you gonna do about it?'. He takes his place next to you. Plopping his full weight down. You almost fly forward into him. He grins from ear to ear. When you pull away and he scoots to the edge of the couch to give you some space, you find yourself smiling inwardly.

It's no surprise that all of the guys didn't fit on the couch. Two of them noticed this guy taking a seat next to you, yet playfully rush to take the spot on your left. The guy with hamster like features beats the much taller, otter looking one.

He smiles in victory, and you watch the guy pout and walk away. For a split second, your eyes catch each other, you smile, face scrunching. A tiny laugh erupts from you. He grins from ear to ear. He's not so upset he didn't win the spot anymore. He stands behind the adjacent couch with his arms resting on the top of it.

A shoulder bumps yours. It's from the hamster looking guy. He pouts, and you smile, bumping your shoulder back at his. His pout lifts despite him trying not to. His lips curve upwards.

Finally, once everyone is settled down into their spots. Two of the men in suits step forward.

"On behalf of Bighit and Pledis Entertainment, I will be representing seventeen." The other one speaks up. "And I will be representing Ms -" he says your full name.

You sigh, more legal work?

"If this is about more legal signing, I have already signed everything with Mr. Song Jaeho" You gesture to jaeho, who stands off to your left. The men in suits looked puzzled. Jaeho nods. "If that's the case, we can just begin introductions." The fourth guy says, clapping his hands together.

One by one, you learn the names of each guy. You make sure to memorize it perfectly. Some of them are even foreigners, you really wonder how they all met. They seem to have the closest bond, apparently they've known each other for years.

You've got a lot to catch up on.

Soonyoung and Mingyu are the two that sit with you. Soonyoung on your left and Mingyu on your right. The one who took the chair is Jihoon. From left to right, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, and Vernon take the couch across from you. Sitting on the arms are Seokmin and Wonwoo. leaning against the back of the couch is Seungkwan, Junhui, Minghao, and lastly, Chan. The one who lost the race.

"Tomorrow, we're shooting for a video," seungcheol speaks up over the growing silence. "You could come if you want," he nods. Everyone waits with bated breaths.

"I'd love to," you grin.

[saulsplace]

On Mencius Moldbug and the social chaos leading to monarchial Caesarism

In this article on Quillette, Max Borders makes an analysis of Curtis Yarvin, also known as Mencius Moldbug. The article focuses on the “unworkable ideas” behind the neoreactionary movement. It is my intuition that Borders’ critiques of Yarvin as well as of the neoreaction, miss the point. Max Borders emphasizes the merits of decentralized organization. But what he seems not to weigh accurately in his analysis, is how that the digital revolution, multiculturalism and the disappearance of the middle class reshape Western societies, is so extreme in its consequences, that the emergence of ‘New Caesarism’ is probable.[1]

And this only highlights the internal volatility of the Western world – which currently has a steamy eruption in Britain, and previously in France, through the yellow jackets movement; we see an unprecedented political polarization in the US. We do not yet touch upon how, throughout the previous centuries, the European-American sphere lead the world in terms of technological, economical and social advances, and in doing so, more or less set the pace globally. It meant that our internal democratic machinations had time to play out. Today however, due to the technological interconnectedness of the globalized world and the rise of BRICS, the shifting geopolitical order puts additional pressure upon the internal democratic processes of the Western world. The emergence of Chinese police stations within the Netherlands is just one example.

In the first half of the twentieth century, the Western world knew a limited social mobility, but enjoyed the benefits of a tight and sturdy social cohesion. In the second half of the twentieth century, social mobility became more loose but the possibilities for social climbing became meaningfully bigger. Today, we have less social mobility as well as less social cohesion. 

The tragic reality is that we have a generation trapped in small apartments, where they waste their twenties and thirties to alcohol and dating apps. They start to feel how hollow their autonomy is, which was initially the selling point of the ‘liberal dream’ that advocates moving to a big city in pursuit of opportunity. For those in this position, it becomes unclear what makes it beautiful to be human, and steadily, people transfer control over their lives to machines, which become smarter every day. Many descend into digital worlds where connections feel more true and authentic than the atomized encounters of urban daily life.

This critique is relevant because it elucidates the social chaos that prepares the ground for Ceasarism. Max Borders makes a concise point of how a CEO-Monarch would likely crash and burn once he would actually be put in charge of today’s system. Being the CEO of a startup and of a powerful multinational, requires different mind- and skillsets, and as liberal-conservative economists have understood, the complexity of globalized economies transcends the computing power of any individual mind. One gets back to the ‘invisible hand’, the ‘road to serfdom’, and so forth. 

Now think of the Wright brothers, who invented motorized airplanes and flew them across the US. Today, this would invariably meet resistance from regulations. Although we have Elon Musk testing rockets, these are giant companies that make their influence felt through lobbying. And they relate to these regulations in a very different way than the average freedom-loving citizen does, who is just as small and powerless in the face of those big corporations as he is in the shadow of governments. And in his powerlessness, he longs for a recognizable leader, who makes power personal again and whom he feels watches over him: something he no longer expects from the anonymous bureaucratic institutions. 

The ominous looming force of which we are trying to sketch the contours here, is not only in technology and economics, but is party theological in nature. Humans want to feel the sacred aura of their leader, especially in times of turmoil. Think of the Holy Roman Emperors, who wore cloaks embroiled with stars, that peasants wanted to touch as their monarch passed by, to be permeated by the energy of regal sanctity. 

One can argue the contemporary citizen has moved through the Enlightenment and absconded his soul from such sacred hankerings. But at the same time, the technologies which mediate contemporary life become so delicate and complex that for most, any understanding of their workings dissolves into evanescence. An early modern peasant could roughly grasp the workings of a steam engine – an android phone, by comparison, is an object of myth. Is the connection between contemporary man and his ‘technology priest’ who manages digital infrastructure, any less theological in nature than the understanding between the tribesman and his shaman? Is the rise of ‘cyber gods’ truly unimaginable, now that – as Hideo Kojima foresaw – the conditioning of human cultural context is increasingly delegated to AI? 

Ancient society was organized in the Polis: a city-state consisting of a few thousand people. In such a situation, one has a better understanding of those one deals with. A shared cultural sphere is a fruitful environment for social trust. The Polis provides a situation in which you experience your own interests and those of your neighbors and dear ones as integrated and overlapping. Whereas today, there is a pervasive uneasy sense of “for whom am I actually doing all this?” – one pays for the social check of an unemployed person who has smoked himself silly in a coffee shop in the big city. And if you don’t want to pay for that, people will call you “selfish”. Those overlapping links, in which our interests coincide organically, of you as an individual and the community of which you are a part, have disappeared in modern mass society. Either you sit in your apartment as a separate atom, watching streaming services while consuming food from a home delivery service, or you are addressed and even morally blackmailed with the poverty of emaciated children in Africa and all the global threats to the environment and climate.

Ignored and disregarded are the links of ‘civil society’, the organic experience of a thriving neighborhood and local community. Links that mediate between individual selfishness and cosmopolitan world improvement narratives. It remains a cliché but is dreadfully true that when applying to the board of a multinational, fraternizing with street kids in Columbia looks better on your resume than playing checkers in your local elderly care home.

Modern humans are thus confined in a horizon of pure alienation. Namely, stuck between a very individualistic and even egoistic life practice, and altruistic ideals that are so all-encompassing that they can do little else than trap the individual in an ineradicable sense of guilt.

It is truly hard to picture a way forward from this bleak landscape – where is the brimming star on the horizon to beckon us with inspiring energy? The left has its great visions of carless societies, fifteen minute cities, renewable food and energy sources. But one can’t escape the impression that a lot of irreparable and even immobilizing damage will be done – to our privacy, our farmers, our freedom of movement, our economic productivity and energy security – before we ever get close to such a ‘green’ utopia. More likely, urban civilization will collapse under the weight of these over-ambitious projects so that the brutal hierarchy of the jungle will reign from the overgrown ruins.

Meanwhile the right dreams of mass-deportations. Yet I don’t see it happening that – even if the political establishment somehow finds courage to ship the most criminal elements and islamist trouble makers back to their countries of cultural background – Westerners would suddenly rediscover a socially welcoming middle class society with a supply of pleasantly marriageable partners, successful and fruitful relationships. 

The precariousness of primary relationships, the demise of basic immaterial certainties (as opposed to material certainties such as food and housing), is what funnels the ‘death of the West’ in earnest. The riots and instability caused by mass-immigration, however frustrating and demoralizing it may be, is not what makes it impossible for us contemporary Westerners to form nuclear family unit connections at a personal, existential and socio-economic level.

With all this, I wanted to make the point that the grueling powerlessness droned into our souls by today’s globalized system (it can hardly be called a ‘society’), while at the same time the liberal narratives tell us how ‘free’, and ‘liberated’ we are, must at some point find a way out – some sort of meltdown must occur. Institutionalized disillusionment, is perhaps a way to phrase this energy – it will indeed give credence to forms of monarchical Caesarism. 

--

[1] For an extensive exploration and definition of Caesarism, see: Sid Lukkassen, ‘Caesarism and the Aesthetical Turn of Politics’, pp. 55-87, in: From Herodotus to Spengler: Comparing Civilisations throughout Time and Space (Lüdinghausen, 2024).

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[platinumtransfer]

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[mitchbeck]

HARTFORD WOLF PACK MAKE FINAL CUTS

By: Gerry Cantlon, HowlingsHARTFORD, CT - The Hartford Wolf Pack made the tough decisions and made tough cuts, sending defenseman Seth Barton,  center Matej Pekar, and forward Cristiano DiGiacinto to their ECHL affiliates, the Cincinnati Cyclones.Two days ago, Pack Head Coach Kris Knoblauch had high praise for Barton while Pekar and DiGiacinto signed fan autographs at Trinity College at the Koepppel Community Center after the first period.19-year-old Maxim Barbashev, still junior eligible and cut loose from his Amateur Try-Out (ATO) deal, heads back to the QMJHL Shawinigan Cataractes. Goalie Brad Arvanitis was released from his Professional Try-Out (PTO) deal and heads to the Maine Mariners (ECHL), who open their camp along with the rest of the ECHL.Fellow 19-year-old Adam Sykora stays here because he is European and played last year in a pro league in Slovakia.These moves leave the Wolf Pack with 15 forwards, eight defensemen, and two goalies, making 25 players.There was a chance that one to three changes could happen on Monday by either trade, release, or via the waiver wire, as the Rangers had to hand in their final roster by 5 p.m. as per CBA regulations to start the NHL season.CALGARY ARENA A long-awaited plan was finalized for an $890M new arena development project along with mixed-use development for the Calgary Flames is now formally set after the team, the City of Calgary, and the province of Alberta completed a formal agreement.They are set to break ground next year with a projected opening by 2026 or 2027. The project will include the new arena of about 18,000-plus seats in downtown Calgary and will include a culture and entertainment district, including a public plaza, community ice rink, restaurants, retail, and residences.The project will entail the replacement of the Flames’ current home, the Scotiabank Saddledome. The building is known for its iconic saddle-shaped roof and role in the 1988 Winter Olympics.The Saddledome replaced the Calgary Corral, which was their first home when they relocated from Atlanta and the WHA Calgary Cowboys.The Saddledome is now 40 years old and no longer meets current NHL standards. It will be demolished once the new arena is completed.The new arena will house the NHL Flames, AHL Wranglers, WHL Hitmen, CFL Stampeders, and NLL Calgary Roughnecks.The City of Calgary will contribute $390 million toward the project, the province will chip in $240 million, and the Flames ownership, Calgary Sports and Entertainment Corporation (CSEC) will pay $260 million.The Flames will commit to the city on a 35-year lease as part of the deal.NOTES:Only one player, Drew Worrad, who is dealing with a minor undisclosed injury, is unavailable a week before he will probably be sent to Cincinnati to get game reps.Ex-Pack’s Josh Wesley and Brandon Cutler were assigned to the Utah Grizzlies (ECHL) by the Colorado Eagles (AHL).Ex-Pack Simon Denis announced his retirement from hockey. He becomes the sixth ex-Pack to retire this off-season.Ex-Pack Brandon Alderson signs with the Cardiff Devils (Wales-EIHL).UCONN opened their season on the road with a non-conference meeting with Colgate University Saturday night, winning 4-2 over the Red Raiders, who ex-Pack Mike Harder coaches.On Sunday afternoon, ended in a 3-3 tie with Ethan Haider in net and sophomore Matt Wood scoring one of their three goals.On Saturday night, before an SRO crowd, the defending national champion Quinnipiac University Bobcats (ECACHL) battled a non-conference foe, the loaded Boston College Eagles, at the M&T Bank Arena. The Bobcats received a sterling performance in goal from Vinny Duplessis (BU grad transfer) but still lost the game 2-1 with nine seconds left in overtime.Easton Armstrong, the youngest son of Wolf Pack great Derek Armstrong, had a hat trick, including the 7-6 game-winner in overtime, in an early season win for the Wenatchee (WA) Wild (WHL) win over Kamloops Blazers, Pack goalie Dylan Garand’s old junior team.HARTFORD WOLF PACKHOWLINGS Read the full article

[hardynwa]

Curbing The NAICOM Cartel And Its Cut-Throat Motor Insurance

By Felix Oboagwina As last year drew to a close, the 58 insurance firms in Nigeria under the umbrella of the National Insurance Commission (NAICOM) served notice that minimum Third-Party subscription for motor vehicles would no longer cost N5,000 but N15,000 beginning from this New Year. Some years ago, they charged N1,000 as minimum payable on motor insurance. Contrast with the current debate on the social media about MultiChoice serving a notice of increase on GOtv and DSTV subscribers. The increase ranges from 16 percent to 22 percent. Despite this, people are shouting BLUE MURDER! Subscribers are calling for the cable TV firm to be skinned or beheaded, saying MultiChoice would not dare such in its home headquarters, South Africa. Last time MultiChoice tried it, the matter went as far as the National Assembly. This same National Assembly now looks the other way with the new insurance premiums. What is the cable TV’s 22 percent increment, compared to 200 percent by NAICOM? What insurers have done is brazen and indecent! To increase the minimum Third-Party motor insurance to 300 percent is not only unreasonable it is draconian. It is an act of impunity. It is extortionist, insensitive, inconsiderate, untimely, ill-advised, selfish and self-serving. It panders to the unbridled greed of industry operators. The brazenness is insulting. In short, the hike is highly inconsiderate, especially in this era of scarce and expensive fuel and an economy still reeling from the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. Yet insurers blame the N10,000 increment on “current economic realities.” Not acceptable! There are an estimated 13 million vehicles in Nigeria, of which only some 3 million have been captured in the insurance net. Instead of seeking ways to lure the noncompliant 10 million vehicle-owners to buy into insurance, insurers want to milk conformists to death. Where will patrons accommodate this increase, in a country with a minimum wage of N30,000? Of course, those earning minimum wage do not own vehicles. However, they use transportation. When the prices of vehicle inputs like fuel, tolls and spare parts become costlier, vehicle owners simply transfer them to commuters through higher fares. Adding a costlier insurance to the motor value chain amounts to subjecting vehicle owners to double, nay multiple, jeopardy, with the spiral effect translating to higher transport fares and costlier freighting fees. Imagine if other elements in the motor driving particulars too decide to follow suit. It means that drivers and owners would pay three times on: - Vehicle Licence - Road Worthiness - Hackney Permit - Drivers Licence - Customs Papers - Tinted Glass Permits (which the Police Force deserves kudos for waiving) and other council and business locations tickets. Someone said, "Insurance is the sale of promises. The ‘customer’ pays money now; the insurer promises to pay money in the future if certain events occur. Sometimes, the promise will not be tested for decades." Sometimes the promise will not be even tested forever! In fact, only about 15 percent insurance subscribers ever bother to make accident claims. The greater proportion of claimants comes from corporate policyholders. Thus, the insurance firm is the greater beneficiary in the relationship because the individual motor policyholder would just lick his wound and settle the bills jejely. Everyone knows that the Third-Party insurance on vehicles is just to fulfil all righteousness –a legal requirement with which transport owners must comply. In Nigeria here, they refer to it as, “Let-My-People-Go Insurance,” or “Let-Me-Pass Insurance.” Third-Party is the paper drivers obtain just to satisfy the police. That’s all! In case of accident or damage to Third-Party vehicles, insurance customers hardly bother to engage themselves in the stress of filing claims. The red tape and bureaucracy is so organised as to be stressful and time-wasting. Therefore, claimants simply pay from their pockets. Commercial bus and employed drivers are a common sight, kneeling and prostrating on the ground for the mercy of those whose cars they bash. Hence, the insurance firm reaps from doing NOTHING! Since owning personal cars for over two decades now, I have been involved in accidents. Not once have I made a single claim! In fact, apart from an Insurance Broker in my church, no one I know has EVER made a claim. Not one! In fact, late last year, someone in my neighbourhood had his SUV crushed by a falling container. The owner of the offending trailer came privately to plead for the victim to accept N7 million for a vehicle worth N12 million. Family members told the victim to thank God for surviving the ordeal and accept the money. That is how we roll. As of 2019, the Nigerian industry ranked 62nd in the world with $1.64 billion premium. That makes it an industry worth some N1.2 trillion. In 2021, the unaudited Insurance Industry performance in Nigeria showed that insurance firms made a gross income of N630 billion, and posted N238.05 billion as net expenditure. Talk about a fertile cash cow. Insurers benefit colossally from the statutory laws making vehicle insurance cover mandatory for cars, trucks and motorcycles. The Insurance Act 2003 mandates all motorists to carry the minimum of a Third-Party Motor Insurance Policy. Section 68 of the 2003 Insurance Act stipulates: “No person shall use or cause or permit any other person to use a motor vehicle on a road unless a liability which he may thereby incur in respect of damage to the property of third parties is insured with an insurer registered under this Act.” The law varies in the US, where most states, require vehicles to carry motor insurance. However, there are two US states where it is not mandatory –Virginia and New Hampshire. Countries like New Zealand, Saudi Arabia and Manila do not require a compulsory insurance for vehicles to ply the roads. It is compulsory in Britain too, hence, we see that mandatory insurance is part of our colonial heritage. This colonial heritage must go now. As our colonial hangover, motor insurance is being weaponised for inordinate extortion, unbridled greed and excessive profiteering by insurers operating under a NAICOM cartel. Time has come to break up this cartel. With NAICOM calling the shots, it amounts to a monopoly, which should not hold in a free enterprise and deregulated economy. NAICOM is operating like a cartel. We consumers reject being milked by this privileged cartel. Nigeria should make insurance OPTIONAL. This Ninth National Assembly or the coming Tenth National Assembly should make this a matter of urgent public importance. Legislators should change the law to deregulate insurance or scrap this motor insurance law. The NASS should tweak the Insurance Act. Expunge, reframe, rephrase, rewrite restructure or remove that part of the law that makes it compulsory for vehicles to carry an insurance paper to travel the roads. If vehicles MUST be insured, the law should permit no more than a marginal increase, going forward. Motor insurance premium should take a cue from MultiChoice –no increment should be over 20 percent. Legislators need to make a law to make motor insurance deregulated, optional or non-exploitative. They would be writing their name in gold. (OBOAGWINA IS AN AUTHOR AND JOURNALIST, AND MAY BE REACHED VIA: foboagwina@gmail.com) Read the full article

[junkerboss654]

Junk Removal Companies Junk Hauling

We understand that comparability purchasing for bulk trash pickup and junk removal companies in Annapolis Junction, MD can be very tough. This is because of the many differences in truck measurement and pricing methods used by the businesses that provide these providers. That is why we went forward and did all of the onerous give you the results you want. Through our analysis, we now have found that on average TurboHaul can supply savings up to 40% off our competitor’s rates. Good junk removing providers mix low prices, prime quality, and excellent customer evaluations.

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Never overlook to add taxes when calculating the value of your junk elimination companies. If your staff are workers, make sure to factor in payroll taxes. Based on our observations, on common, junk elimination companies charge $70 – 570, with most jobs costing between $150 and $350. After placing it to the check, when you measure by sq. footage, the average value comes out to about $1.50 per sq. foot.

While a few of this can be curbed, many sanitation workers won't collect bigger gadgets of junk and trash, requiring instead so that you can remove it. These items may be massive and cumbersome and past your capability to remove. At Mike’s Junk Hauling, we offer environment friendly, reasonably priced trash and waste removing in Holland, MI, for any of your initiatives or cleanups. Gently used items may be donated to Goodwill, The Salvation Army, or other charities. Many junk elimination corporations might help you coordinate donation drop-offs as a stand-alone service or an add-on. Many interstate transferring corporations suggest purging and donating before moving day to assist minimize costs.

There are often many enterprises to pick from in significantly bigger towns and cities. This means you may examine charges in the hopes of obtaining the most effective deal. Here are a number of issues why you may make the most of a dependable Trash Removal WA that will help you get rid of your undesirable items. For full-service junk removal in Green Bay, Truck ‘N Junk is the dependable resolution you need! With only a few steps, we’ll assist you to reclaim your house without any of the hassles. Workiz Junk removal scheduling software program can help you unlock your time so you can focus on what actually issues – building your junk removing enterprise to a $1 million a year enterprise.

The bag works just like a regular dumpster, however it’s a bit smaller and much more reasonably priced. Home companies market HomeAdvisor polled its readers and located that the typical price for a full truckload (roughly 450 cubic feet) of junk was round $800. And the wonder is that you don’t should do any additional work – instead junk haul of dropping the stuff off on the dump, just promote it and pick up some additional money. You might be amazed at the “junk” people need you to haul away. You are going to find barely used train equipment, bicycles, sports tools, paintings, antiques, furnishings, unwanted presents and more.

WastePlace at present offers leads for junk removal, dumpster rental, recurring service, recycling and compactor rental and service. For dumpster rental leads, you are ready to bid based mostly junk removers on container size and overage charges. For recurring industrial service and compactor service leads, you are ready to bid for 12-, 24- and 36-month contracts.

[productsreviewings]

(Picture credit score: Future) যদি এটি পরিচিত শোনায়, তবে এটি মূলত ফ্রেমওয়ার্ক ল্যাপটপের সম্প্রসারণ কার্ড সিস্টেমটি কীভাবে কাজ করে (অনুরাগীদের ছাড়া): আপনি যা চান তা ক্রয় করেন (যার প্রত্যেকটিতে সাধারণত অতিরিক্ত স্টোরেজ স্পেস বা একটি একক পোর্ট থাকে, যেমন HDMI বা USB-A) এবং ল্যাপটপের চারটি Slot between and out of doors the USB-C Enlargement Card slot comparable to you want.Massive framework laptops will help the 16 expression card system and provide six slots (as a substitute of 4) along with the growth bay, which accepts its personal extra highly effective module. Since these might embrace graphics playing cards (most likely at the least the most recent Nvidia GeForce RTX 4000 Collection Laptop computer GPUs are robust), framework laptop computer 16 is principally the primary gaming laptop computer that encourages you to improve Graphics playing cards as a substitute of upgrading you to new laptops - and that is the intelligence of shoppers. An enormous gesture of rights and respect for pockets. The method of transmitting the GPU at a framework laptop computer 16 also needs to be fairly straightforward, because of the corporate's simple-open hardware observe report that's clearly labeled and properly documented. These efforts are an enormous motive for the framework merchandise to be so thrilling: nearly every little thing is supported with open-source and documentation, so members of the enthusiastic group have a greater probability to do greater than anybody within the firm with these laptops. The brand new growth bay system of framework laptop computer 16 helps high-speed knowledge switch by means of a custom-digined PCIE X8 interface, for instance, and framework imagines a future the place homeowners should buy not solely graphics card modules, exterior GPU enclosors. যা যে কোনও সাথে কাজ করে। Laptop computer, 16TB storage financial institution, card reader, video seize gadget and extra by way of USB-C. (Picture credit score: Future)তারপর কিবোর্ড আছে. The keyboard and trackpad on the unique framework laptops have been all the time replaceable, however you're restricted to the opposite within the structure of 1 key. The brand new framework laptop computer 16 makes issues extra fascinating with a brand new "enter module" system that offers you a number of freedom to combine and match the fabric by calling your framework keyboard.The brand new system is split into small, medium and enormous parts that may be organized in custom configuration to create your individual (comparative) distinctive keyboard and touchpad format. The corporate's chief, Patel has spent a number of time throughout at the moment's occasion that it's helpful how a lot you need to transfer or transfer a nump, however you are able to do issues like including LED gentle strips, swinging and even hooking within the touchscreen. হ্যাপটিক প্রতিক্রিয়া সহ একটি স্লাইডার আপ করুন। So long as the module works by way of USB 2.0 and is lower than 3.77 mm peak, in response to the documentation of the framework, the sky is the restrict.You possibly can see why that is so thrilling: I have not heard of a laptop computer that permits you to customise your keyboard on this diploma, permitting you to modify to GPU or different BIF upgrades if wanted. Though Framework 2023 these laptops make a number of guarantees when beginning transport, it's so tough to supply extra repaired, user-upgradable choices for Powerhouses like Apple's MacBook Professional 16-inch and Samsung Galaxy E-book. 3 আল্ট্রা দেখতে চমত্কার. This can be a factor that I need to make extra laptop computer producers and I am unable to wait to get a hand in a framework laptop computer 16 overview unit on the finish of this yr so we are able to see how properly it does in our testing lab. সাথে থাকুন!Extra from Tom's InformationAt present's Greatest Asus ROG Zephyrus G14 Offers

[ltwilliammowett]

The Marines

All ships carried a proportion of the crew as marines and they were considered sea service soldiers, so they were soon to be attached to the army. They were raised as Marines by Order-in-Council on 28 October 1664 as The Duke of York and Albany's Maritime Regiment of Foot. As the Duke of York and Albany, later King James II, also held the office of Lord High Admiral and the regiment was financed from the Admiralty budget, it was also called the Admiral's Regiment. It was not until 1755 that it was placed under the Admiralty and from 1802 it was officially the Royal Marines.

Marines during the Battle of Trafalgar 1805, by Marc Sardelli (x)

At the start of the war with France in 1793 there were just 5,000 but by 1805 the number had grown to 31,000 in all ranks divided into four divisions each attached to one of the main naval dockyards, 1. Chatham, 2. Portsmouth, 3. Plymouth and 4. Woolwich. Each division was commanded by a major general and maintained between 40 individual companies of marines including the companies of the Royal Marine Artillery (they were responsible for the mortars and bomb vessels). Each company consisted of a captain, two first lieutenants, two second lieutenants, 8 sergeants, 8 corporals, five drummers and 130 privates making a total of 156 men.

Royal Marines Recruitment Poster - War of 1812 (x)

Recruitment followed Army regulations with recruiting parties being sent out offering bounties for joining, this rose from 8 guineas in 1794 to £30 in 1808. Army recruits  wre even offered a further £ 5 bounty to transfer to the Marines.

Duties and Uniform

As a professional fighting military unit both afloat and ashore, the marines had two duties. Under normal sailing conditions at sea they wre generally employed as sentinels guarding the admiral’s nad captain’s quarters, the powder room, magazines, the spirit room and other important storerooms. which also made their numbers on the board quite high. They usually accounted for around 19% of the total crew, for example a 74-gun ship would have about 120 marines on board as part of the ship’s total complement of 550 crew members.  Whilst undertaking these duties they would wear their recongnizable uniform of red coat, white pipe- clayed crossbelts, off-white coloured breeches ( In 1804, they changed it into white trousers), black leather knee- length gaiters (white for parade), leather neck band, and black shako style hat with its distinctive red and white plume.

A Private of the Royal Marines 1815 (x)

They were armed with the Sea Service Brown Bess Musket with attachable bayonet, which was slightly shorter than the Army version st around 0,91m long to make it easier to handle in confined spaces and had a slightly wider bore presumably because of deterioration of the barrel in sea air.

British Sea Service Pattern 1778 Flintlock Musket (x)

If not on guard duty, the marines provided general manpower, giving assistance to the seamen where unskilled heavy labour wa required - hauling capstan when weighing anchor, or carrying heavy loads on board the ship. According to orders, no marine could be offically compelled to work aloft, however some did oblige as volunteers. Some of these, it appears, later became prefessional seamen at their own will.

Life aboard

During the battle the marines provided extra manpower to operate the guns, with most consigned to act as a powdermen who would have been ready to leave their posts to repel boarders. On deck, they formed a disciplined defence at close quarters, providing the necesssary small arms fire with their muskets and leading the boarding parties onto other ships. They were also used to form an amphibious assault force for staging attacks on coastal installations and cutting-out enemy ships at anchor. Parties of marines were often sent ashore to protect captured storerooms, powder magazines or even prisoners.

Marines messed alone (x)

In most ships the marines lived and messed separately from the seamen. This preference was a largely unwritten rule for seamen and the marines alike. The marines’ quarters on ship depended on the ship type or class. In a three -decked first- or second- rate ship- of-the-line they lived on the middle gun deck, on a third or fourth rate ship at the after end of the lower gun deck, and in the single decked frigates they lived at the after end of the berthing deck. Each of these locations was in close proximity to the wardroom of the respective ship type. This was of fundamental importance, as the event of a possible insurrection - a safeguard that proved essential after the mutinies of 1797. By the way, higher ranks from lieutenant upwards had their own cabin in the wardroom. 

Payment

Marines were paid by two different systems, with a lower rate when they were afloat than when ashore. In 1797, they pay of a private was raised to 1s per day, or £1.8.0 per lunar month, in parity with the army. This was because some marines had also joined the great Nore and Spithead mutinies to demand better pay and supplies at sea, as did the Seamen. But when they are afloat, this was reduced to 19s 3d per month. The reason for that, while ashore the marine was charged for the cost of his victualling and accommodation. At sea, he also had deductions, in the form of contributions to the Chatham Chest, the surgeon and chaplain; but his food was supplied free charge. The marine afloat also had to pay for his bedding (but not for his hammock), and also for the “slops” which he used for working clothes when not on guard duty.

British Sailors Boarding a Man O’ War, 1820 (x)

With an particular rank, pay often increased with length of service. A private with more then seven years service was paid 2s 4d extra when on shore, and 1s 9d when afloat. After 14 years, these allowances were doubled. A sergeant had £ 2.11.4 ashore and £ 2.0.3 afloat. Artillerymen were paid more; a gunner had a minimum of £ 1.15.7 ashore, and a sergeant had £3.18.2.

Miscellaneous

As in the Army, a proportion of Marines were allowed to take their wives with them and this led ot a number of women being present at the major naval battles, wher they were usually assigned to help the surgeon. In 1804 boys of 15 were allowed to join the Marines and height restrictions were lowered to 1,57, but it is believed that most boys were retained in barracks training until they became of age. A number of foreigners and prisoners of war wre also enlisted and although this was stopped in 1810, a number of these Marines went on to have long careers.

Particularly in the early years of the war, when the number of Marines was often inadequate for the Navy’s needs, Army battalions were drafted on board to do the role. At the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801 for example, the 49th Regiment of Foot were on board Nelson’s ships, a role the regiment still proudly commemorates.

[bridgeportbritt]

The Toxicity of Royal Simblr

alright guys. I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to make a post about this or that it would just go away. But, I’m seeing now that this is not the case. As the owner of the Royal Discord Community, I along with others in the community feel like this behind the scenes toxic behavior needs to be addressed because it’s been going on for a while now and a lot of people have been affected.

Please note that the intention is to bring attention to some of the toxic behaviors shown here so those involved will not continue further. We’ve blocked names of some people in the following screenshots to remove their identity as this is not about he said/she said stuff. It’s about bringing light to something that’s been affecting all of us.

This is a long post so be prepared to do some reading if you continue on. The following screenshots were provided to me because I took over the Royal Discord once the previous admins no longer wanted it. The rest is under the cut.

*Before you read on, I’m happy to let you know that a resolution has come since this initial post. Please read this post. Thank you!*

A lot of these messages are disheartening because myself, the other admins/mods, and the community as a whole has worked hard to bring the community back from a place where people honestly felt too scared to join because messages like these were playing in the background and this sentiment seeps into every part of Royal Simblr unfortunately. Due to how things were run previously on top of this toxic underbelly it’s made people hesistant to join in.

There is one thing I’d like to address first as it was directed at myself and I want to own up to anything I have done in this. When I first joined Royal Simblr, I participated in a Royal Sim Pageant. In one of the rounds, derogatory and racist remarks against Asians were made without the participants knowing. I truly regret to have been apart of it. When it was brought to my attention, I worked to correct the damage done with the owners of the pageant. I’m not perfect and don’t claim to be, but I’m always working to be better especially when it comes to correctly representing other cultures as it’s something I take very seriously.

To preface these messages, there are two things to know. There are two seperate servers. Server A) The server I’ve been admin of for a little over a month after the last admin transferred it to me. Server B) A smaller server that was created before Server A and made up a lot of the folks who also created and ran the Server A initially. The other thing is most of these people are not in Server A and haven’t been in over a month.

The conversation you see here started with a member of the community being accused of copying storylines. This person being accused is in Server A and this conversation took place in Server B on July 15, 2021.

The person speaking is saying they left Server A because a person is accused of copying storylines. For some reason, the whole community is then somehow involved in this as the conversation shifts. The person accused of copying happened to be a moderator in Server A which is mentioned. 

From what I’ve seen from this server, this is fairly common behaviour and multiple people have been bullied, accused of copying, etc. many stemming from this server.

In this shot, Server A is put into question. Many stating they left because they don’t want to pretend to be positive or show interest in other stories as if they are being forced to. As you can see one person states that this is not the case of the server since I’ve been admin and don’t encourage people to show fake positivity.

However, this person is actually in Server A which I’m guessing is why they decided to sort of defend it. But, then they agree that those running Server A are questionable (ie myself and the other admins/mods).

More of the same, but speaking about the previous ownership of the server when referring to being asked to step down. Also more just toxic talk about the entire Royal simblr community for no reason. This comes from those who have “built the community” and “do so much for it.” But behind closed doors this is what is done.

In this shot, those in Server A are accused of not “making an effort to be anyone’s friend” with those who rarely interact, being nice to each other for clout, and just overall being fake. Although, keep in mind, one of these people (”I stay for the drama”) is in Server A and never expressed any of this to me or other admins. Yet talking trash about us in Server B. Note: the pageant is also brought up here which I’ve addressed above and I believe I was the only admin or moderator apart of the pageant. 

Here they make fun of people speaking about their stories and other people encouraging them. Also, just want to point out if anyone ever feels unwelcomed in the server, please reach out to me of the other admins. It’s our goal to make everyone welcome, but we can’t do that if we don’t know. Also, being a jerk to people in another server for no reason isn't really a good way to make friends.

Some general nonsense about the server and those in the server. Again most of these people haven’t been in the server since I took over so sentiments about the status of the server are all from a month ago when those in Server B were in charge of Server A. The “felt like a corporation” and “crickets” is all things we’ve been working to reverse since we’ve taken it over.

In these shots, it’s talked about how so many people are stuck in their Royal stories and don’t plan methodically and decorate and how they take bad screenshots. Basically making fun of everyone else because they aren’t doing things exactly as they are or think they should be done. The community they “built” mind you. Then, they talk about some plan to rejoin Server A and bait people, but not wanting to get caught up so deciding against it.

This gives you a gist of what is happening in the Royal Simblr community. Some of the most beloved and talented among us are spending their time poking fun at everyone else, bullying, and being toxic in a server that is “not exclusive.” Many of my friends have been apart of this and even got swept into the toxicity which shows you the nature of this group. It’s very exclusive and meant to bully and mock others even going as far as making people want leave the community alrogether.

This is not me trying to bash anyone or continue bullying or single out these people specifically as bad people. There are a lot more screenshots that I did not share of just really mean stuff, but we’ve all done messed up stuff. I won't say who said what or even who had this particular conversation because at this point it doesn't matter, but I will address those who are in the server and actively participate in toxic conversations including @royaldevilliers @thesimsroyalfam @wa-royal-tea @royalfamilyofgrimalldi and @markinghamroyals​

We all have a vision for the community and we’ve been working towards that and this is NOT it. It’s not about who’s best or being being better than everyone else. It’s supposed to be about community, sharing stories, and overall just having a good time with a fun HOBBY. Others are just taking it too far and too seriously. Things like this ruin it for EVERYONE. 

When I took over Server A, no one interacted, people were nervous to join, and it was a place where people didn’t feel welcomed. Now, we just had a random 6 hour server stream yesterday, people are helping people daily and sharing their stories again. This is what we want for the community. But with behavior like this, we will NEVER get there.

To those who are doing this, please look at these nasty messages and see how this does so much harm. The toxic energy you bring does not stop just because it’s in your little bubble. 

This is who you want to be known as?

This is how you want to “build a community?” 

None of us are perfect and we don’t expect you to be either, but this is just mean especially to folks who haven’t done anything to you and even look up to you.

To those who’ve been affected by this, I’m really sorry. We have to do better if we want this community to continue and be a good place for us all.

[crimson-dxwn]

At Odds 7 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Mereel and Kal work to find Orla’s whereabouts. Visitors come to The Center. 

Warnings: 18+, GRAPHIC torture scene ft blood and vomit; sexy dream scene and f!masturbation, some distressing language in Mando’a

Words: 4200

As always, major thanks to @detroitbydark  for being my hype girl. ​

------------------------------------------------

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

19 BBY

Mereel watches his buir work. 

They’d snatched the hut’uun Corporal Hadley on his way back from his favorite girl’s room at the bathouse. She hadn’t seemed too sorry to be rid of him after they’d asked and paid handsomely. The whore wouldn’t have to work for a month at least. 

Their Keldabe safehouse was like the countless other hodgepodge durasteel and stone buildings in the solidly working-class neighborhood. The few mercs returning home from jobs didn’t bat an eyelash at fellow Mandalorians bringing a hooded guest into the basement in the early hours of the morning, which was well enough for them. 

Mereel has never seen his buir this angry. Well, maybe once, many years before when he and his brothers had been called into a room with Orun Wa. When Ordo grabbed Kal’s pistol and aimed it straight at the aiwha-bait’s head. And Kal Skirata in his sand gold Mando armor had taken them out of that place, but not before spewing a few choice words at the Kaminoans present. 

The faint sound of trickling on the dirt floor brings Mereel back to the present. 

“Did he piss himself?” Mereel asks, more amused than anything. Though now they’d be conducting this particular interrogation through the smell of the man’s urine. He sighs. Cracking a window was out of the question. 

Kal scoffs. “Haven't even touched him yet.”

“If you’re gonna invade a planet, at least have the guts to deal with the consequences.” 

The man remains silent, immobilized in a rickety old chair. Usually his buir left information extraction to the experts, namely Walon Vau, but this time he’d elected to do the job himself. Mereel almost felt bad for the man. Bad enough to get in the way of a Mandalorian and their partner, worse to get in the way of them and their child, biological or otherwise. 

Kal’buir has his knife out, the old one, his father’s - if Mereel was remembering the story correctly. He’d told it to them once and only once, well into his shots of tihaar. As boys, he and his brothers fought over which of them would be worthy of carrying it when he was gone. 

Pulling up the three-legged stool from the corner of the room, Kal gets in the man’s face. He had to be - at least in raw years lived - older than Mereel, but something in the way he cowered away from the merc’s gaze made him still a boy. He feels….jealous? His vode, the commandos too, had been in that very position more than once before they could shave. He vividly remembers his sargeant retching up his breakfast afterwards.

“Can’t break their face too much,” he says, “-can’t tell you what they know if you muddle them up too bad.”

“She’s alive….” he pants out between coughs “at least she was when she left.”

“Where?” Kal barks. The man doesn’t answer fast enough. The hilt of the three-sided knife cracks across his cheekbone, splitting the skin open like an overripe fruit. Blood starts to flow from the cut, mixing with the sweat droplets on his bare skin. It’s more symbolic than anything. An eye for an eye. 

The man grunts but stays silent. Kal’buir pauses, considering the light glancing off the unusual blade of his father’s knife. His beskar garotte is wrapped around one wrist. To anyone else it would look like a bracelet, and before the man can take another breath, he whips the length of beskar out and slings it around the man’s bloodied neck. 

“If you tell me where she is, we’ll dump you on some skughole.” The wire tightens, revealing the vasculature in Hadley’s neck. “If not…”

The man’s chin tilts back, lungs desperately seeking oxygen, and the way his mouth opens reminds Mereel of the fish they catch from the lake behind Kyrimorut. His eyes start rolling back and Kal lets up. Hadley sputters and wheezes, sucking in air while they wait for his answer.

The man spits defiantly, right on the front of Mereel’s armor. Kal shrugs at his son and tightens the garotte again, choking his airway off just enough without making him lose consciousness. Mereel picks Hadley’s uniform tunic off the ground and wipes his armor with it casually while he gasps, turning bright red. He doesn’t like to think he had a temper, but extracting information from this cocky shit is taking too long. 

Right then Mereel decides to take things into his own hands a bit. His beskar-covered foot steps carefully up onto the rickety chair, between the officer’s legs. Kal raises his eyebrows but says nothing, relaxing his arms so the man can breathe, though he keeps the garrote resting firmly against his skin. Livid red lines stripe across his neck. 

Mereel presses his boot down, just a touch, right where he knows it’ll hurt. In this moment he’s immensely grateful for the protection of his own beskar codpiece as he puts the pressure on.

“Tell us where the kriff you sent her or these,” he presses down harder, “are gonna be hanging off my pauldron.” Without the garrote, Hadley yells out raspily. 

Letting up slightly, Mereel turns to Kal. “You think they allow eunuchs in the Imperial army?” 

His buir’s stony expression doesn’t budge. “Not sure, son.” 

It’s Mereel’s turn to take his knife out, removing the blade from its sheath by his side. Tears are squeezing out of the corner of the corporal’s eyes; he looks like he’s about to toss his breakfast. Finally, their ministrations have the desired effect. 

“Stop,” he says weakly, “I’ll tell you...I’ll tell you.” 

The foot is removed and he promptly vomits off to the side, coughing violently. 

“Transfer order came in.” 

“Transfer to where?” 

“Rehab Center-“ more coughing. Kal’buir may have overdone it with the garrote. They need him to answer before his throat closes and saves them the trouble of using a blaster bolt. 

“I’m gonna need more than that.” Mereel brings his foot back up on the chair with a thunk and the man flinches. Now that he’s broken, the words practically spill out of his bloodied mouth. 

“-bloodwork came back...orders were to report any aberrations.” 

He and buir make eye contact. Driven by instinct, Mereel pushes a bit harder. 

“Tell us where she is and we’ll drop your sorry shebs at a med center.” 

Hadley finally breaks at the promise of relief.

“Brentaal,” he gasps out quickly. 

“Good,” says Kal. Calmly, evenly. But before the man can even sigh in relief, Kal’buir lines his blaster up at the base of the man’s skull and fires. He runs hot, Mereel had heard Walon Vau say once about his buir. It was his weakness. When he was young it had been hard to see that he had any weaknesses at all. Now to Mereel he seemed uncomfortably human, less of the warrior-god he’d seemed as a child, staring up at his sand-gold armor as he confronted Orun Wa, who seemed to the nulls as much a god as anything. 

--------------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Brentaal

18 BBY

Around twenty weeks she started to dream. Some were of her as a child, with her parents and happy memories. Some are of pain, blood, death. Too often she wakes with a heavy  ache between her thighs that is too insistent to be ignored. 

In tonight’s dream it’s Kal who’s moving inside her, as it is most of the time. He has her up against a wall and his cock is splitting her open, thrusting impossibly deep. A cry parts her lips each time his hips are flush with hers. She’s close, so close it hurts but she can’t get off, not even when his cum pulses into her. 

She wakes with a gasp, so close to orgasm it’s undeniable. Even with Taren in the room she bites her lip and snakes her hand over her bump, beneath her pajamas to her swollen clit. She runs her fingers down farther, over her plump labia that are coated in her wetness. A desperate exhale makes it past her lips that she muffles into her pillow. 

Her body craves release and her fingers stroke frantically; orgasm hits her like a speeder crash and Ori can’t help but whine softly into her pillow as she works herself through it. She clenches around nothing, feeling desperately empty but relieved at once. 

She lies there in the aftermath, waiting for the throb to abate, slowly drifting back to sleep until Taren’s whispered voice wakes her.

“Alverde?” osik. 

Sometimes they talk at night, like sisters sharing a room, or at sleepovers with friends, in hushed tones and turned towards the other wrapped in blankets up to their chins. In the privacy of their room they can speak in their mother tongue without fear of punishment. 

Taren starts this time. “Did your buire ever tell you about Demagol?”

“Of course,” she replies. Every Mandalorian child knows Demagol. Mothers and fathers used it to keep their children out of trouble, friends told it around campfires to scare their friends - it may be one of the truly ubiquitous Mando stories out there, though there are many iterations. 

She hears Taren swallow from across the room. 

“Does this ever remind you of…” she trails off. 

“Depends on which story you got told,” Ori replies, not wanting to engage with this particular iteration. She tries not to perseverate on the situation. Taren’s voice is thick and she hears her sniff through the darkness every so often. She’s been crying again. Orla feels for her, so young, missing her riduur and trapped in this place. She herself feels the same, more often than she wants to admit. 

“Tell me about him,” she whispers. 

“Who, demagol?” 

“No,” she replies, “Eryk”

Taren is silent, save for a few sniffles punctuating the gap. 

She prods. “What was he like? How did you meet?” The use of past tense had to hurt, and Ori doesn’t hear a sound from across the room. She wonders if this is the wrong approach to take to make Taren feel better. She’d found out so little detail about the man - his name and the fact that he’d died fighting with Taren before her capture. 

She waits a long time before Taren can answer. Grief hangs heavy in the small dormitory while she waits. Maybe this was the wrong way to go about trying to help. Maybe she’d made everything worse. Worries continue to swirl in her until she hears Taren shuffling from across the room. 

The chill of her blanket being lifted shocks her for a second, and Taren tucks herself into the narrow bed, snug up against Ori, face to face. Or at least as close as they can get with two not-insignificant bellies in the way. It feels good having someone so close after so long, platonically or otherwise. Since she’s been here, her mind has been occupied with settling in, trying to wrap her mind around the unreality of it all. How they are kept in cliques by system, but prohibited from using their native languages. Encouraged to inform on their sisters. Taren rests a hand on her arm. It’s about as close to a hug as they can get nowadays. Ori can practically hear her relax as she returns the gesture. She tries again.

“Tell me about him. I know it’s hard, but I think it might help a little.”

The other woman takes a steadying breath.

“We met when we were ten,” she starts, “He pushed me in the pond.” 

Ori snorts. 

“You know the one? Up by Enceri.” She knows it. Her ba’buir took her there every summer to fish, for the silvery little gi that swam in the murky water. The would bring home a cooler full for her ba’bu to make gihaal while she napped in her little cot in the stuffy little cottage in the mountains. 

“Yeah, I know it.” 

“We just kind of never left each other. I knew he was my person without having to look.”

Her voice gets calmer, sleepier as she talks. 

“People don’t understand how rare that is,” she mumbles. Ori hums in agreement. She stays awake as Taren’s breathing evens out as she continues to stroke her arm. Taren worries her. Under her spiky exterior is a girl who is barely keeping it all together under the stress. Ori knows the outlines of what happened, but Taren still can barely talk about Eryk in the past tense. And time keeps ticking away. Until Taren would inevitably leave her too. Closing her eyes, she listens to Taren’s soft breaths, trying to soothe herself into sleep. 

Tonight the baby has other plans. Every so often she gets a kick worthy of a world class meshgeroya player. Gradually what had started as little flutterings have since turned into elbow jabs and kicks that sometimes take her breath away. She wonders if the evening restlessness is a Skirata trait just as she’s rewarded with a swift blow to the ribs. Definitely from Kal’s side, she thinks. 

Kal. She was sure, so sure for so long that he would come for her. After all, he’d whisked commandos, civilians, and even Jedi out from under palp’s nose. Not for the first time since she’s been here, she wallows. Never out loud, though. Comparatively, she and Taren have it relatively good here; there isn’t much good in whining about the unfairness of it all. But the more remote the possibility of rescue becomes, the harder it is to keep the fear tucked in the back of her brain. It comes out the worst in the dark and silence, paralyzing her, sending ice through her limbs. 

------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Brentaal

18 BBY

Orla can’t help the guilt of being afforded special privileges. She has their system, and with Taren’s extra brainpower they can safely keep track of names and numbers. So far, it seems as though the staff hadn’t caught on, and had even become more comfortable with her in the room. By the second week they have twelve numbers scratched into the wall below Taren’s cot, covered by her blanket. Truly, she’s not sure if it’ll make any difference at all. They really have no plan or hope to get out of here besides their loved ones looking. After all these weeks she’s had to resign herself to the fact that she’d been abandoned, that no one was coming. The sense of abandonment, she supposes, is probably misplaced. One can’t really be abandoned if you don’t belong to anyone, if there’s no one to look. 

When the good doctor calls her up for tea the second time that week, she knows something big is happening. He stirs his cup - Alderaanian - carefully with a tiny spoon, which clinks jarringly in the silence she can’t be bothered to fill. Hers is a distressingly vile herbal blend. Decaffeinated of course, it turns the hot water a sickly green. Ori can’t even bother to try it.

Loesch finally deems his tea properly stirred and acknowledges her presence. He considers her for a few moments and she meets his murky eyes, refusing to break eye contact until he spills whatever news he’s holding over her head. 

“I have a surprise for you.” Not what she expected, that’s for sure. In this place, any kind of surprise is bad. He waits, a mild kind of smile on his face, one that doesn’t touch his eyes. He waits for her enamored response which she reluctantly gives. 

“What is it?” She asks excitedly, like a child waiting for the promise of a sweet. It sounds so disingenuous, so false that she flinches when he opens his mouth, expecting him to call her out. 

“You and your little Mando friend have visitors.” Now that is a surprise for sure. She has absolutely no clue who could be visiting. She didn’t even know they could have visitors in the first place. Half of her clings to the unfounded hope it’s a friendly face, here to bust them out, even though she knows it’s not possible. Ori tries to look excited, tries to wipe any sense of dread, fear and anxiety off her face before he can register her discomfort. He flashes his dazzling smile at her. 

Stairs are perilous these days, as her feet have all but disappeared. They walk side by side down to Ori and Taren’s room. Taren is still inside, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. 

“Now I want you two to stand just here,” he says, arranging them as he pleases, “and I want you both to be silent.” Taren shoots a look at her from across the room that she dares not return. 

They stand next to their neatly made cots, up against the far cement-block wall of the cell. Dr. Loesch disappears for a few moments to fetch their distinguished guests. 

The first thing she notices is the jai’galaar on her pauldron - the mark of Death Watch. Her heart sinks. There’s no good reason any of them should be here. Except the worst reason. She’s thin as a wire, with dark black hair and pale skin. Her right arm is slung over a classic Mandalorian helmet, upslanted visor gleaming proudly. The sight of an armored Mandalorian should be a comfort, but the woman exudes such a sense of menace that she can’t help but shrink back. Her eyes flick downwards, from Orla’s head to her toes, and back up appraisingly. Ori can’t keep her cheeks from heating up at the gesture. 

Dr. Loesch flashes her his datapad and the woman studies it for a moment. 

“A Beviin?” she snivels, “I thought such a respectable old Mando family would be above such things.” She turns back to Loesch. “I heard this one doesn’t have armor?”

“No,” he replies, checking his datapad to confirm. 

She hums in acknowledgment, still staring at her bump. Loesch steps in, never one to miss out on a snippet of conversation. 

“Orla, this is Calista Priest.” That explains the menace, then. Before her stands Dred Priest’s niece sporting Death Watch’s symbol. 

“The father?” she continues, too bothered to notice her introduction, turning to Dr. Loesch. 

“Mandalorian,” replies Loesch, still buried in his datapad. 

“No name?” She asks, finally turning to Ori directly. Priest is on the receiving end of the most wrathful look she can manage - all the venom she feels is plain on her face. 

“She won’t tell us.” 

Just like the first time it was asked of her, Ori doesn’t dignify that request with a reply. After all, Kal’s AWOL, and she isn’t about to put herself or her baby up for what interrogation would entail over his whereabouts. Somehow she knows that revealing his identity would put her in an even worse spot. Priest gives her a sympathetic look.

“I suppose you don’t know, do you?” she says as she steps nearer, gloved hand outstretched to touch her. Ori tries to step back, but the wall is right behind her and she can’t budge. She’s caged in, between the brick behind her and Priest’s gleaming plates. Calista places an overly-familiar hand on her belly while Ori stands stiffly between them, fists clenched at her sides, nails digging painfully into her palms. She stares down at the black glove, stark against her petal pink top. The fingers spread and press into her skin as she waits expectantly. 

She’s big now, big enough for someone else to feel the kicks from the outside and to her chagrin her traitorous baby decides to level a good hearty kick - no, elbow - right under Priest’s hand, as if they can sense her ire. Priest is pleased as a peach, a smile twisting her features.  

“She’s strong,” Priest remarks lightly. Ori stands there like an idiot, ineffectual hands clenched at her sides. In shock. 

She. She. Her heart snaps in two. 

Another armored figure enters the room from the doorway, this time one she recognizes. Gar kriffing Saxon. Looks like he’s gotten in bed with the Imps after getting burned by Maul. That whole clan was like insects underfoot, using chaos to their best advantage, not caring who got hurt in the process. The fall of the Republic was obviously treating him well - he and his pet are wearing gleaming custom beskar from helmet to toe. Priest keeps her attention on Orla, not satisfied with her answer. 

“Too drunk to make out the aliik of whatever merc bent you over behind the tapcaf?”

Ori’s mouth drops open. The absolute audacity of this woman was something to behold.

“She’ll do,” Priest declares, turning to Saxon.

Beside her, Taren is shaking with rage, Ori can see it out of the corner of her eye. It’s obvious she’s about to do something incredibly stupid, but before she can throw a look to shut her up, Taren spits. Right onto Gar Saxon’s *karta beskar*. 

*Kriff*, the silence is deafening. Even the ever-charismatic Dr. Loesch is staring in shock. Seconds stretch out as she watches the saliva run down the geometric crevices in Saxon’s beskar.

Taren’s eyes are wide as Saxon takes a menacing step forward, hulking over her. Ori knows what’s coming before he even raises a hand to strike her. To her surprise, it’s Dr. L who puts a hand on his arm to stop him. Saxon glares, hand still in the air. 

Loesch runs a hand through his slick dark hair and snaps at a tech, who gratefully scuttles past the doorway to fetch something to clean Saxon’s chest plate. Loesch’s eyes are cold, and so deeply and disturbingly empty that she has to look away. Taren - ever defiant - decides to double down. 

“No true Mandalorian would steal a child,” she bites out, lunging towards him. Saxon just looks amused, like a tooka playing with its food.  

“I don’t think there’s a question of who’s a more fit parent. Look at you.” Saxon takes her chin between his thumb and index finger, holding her in place. “A traitorous little vaar’ika who couldn’t even protect herself from a single squad of troopers.” Taren stays blessedly silent. 

“You’re lucky she wants a girl,” he quips, full of venom. The tech returns with a cloth and hands it to Saxon, who swipes at his beskar, ridding it of Taren’s saliva. 

He looks more bored by the second, a welcome change from the rage of the past few minutes. It’s obvious he’s only here to appease his pet. Ori stands forgotten, off to the side of the almost-skirmish. She watches Taren’s face drop in shock and knows she wears the same expression. Somehow it’s so easy to get used to the inevitability of their situation, to stay numb to the injustice. It’s the only way to stay sane. But too many bombshells have dropped in the past few minutes. 

Gar Saxon rounds back on Ori, beskar gleaming once again. 

“Consider it a duty to your Mand’alor.” 

“Fenn Shysa is the Mand’alor,” she replies evenly, meeting his icy gaze. She keeps his gaze for as long a possible, refusing to back down. Until his pet can’t keep herself from butting in. 

“You’ve been here too long, copikla,” Priest retorts. Orla barely feels the woman’s hand pass over her bump one last time. “Udesii. She’ll have a proper upbringing.” 

“Hut’uun.” She lunges lopsidedly, swinging for Priest’s unprotected head. She’ll pull hair, bash her head against the wall. Anything. All she can feel is rage. But Priest catches her arm easily, throwing it to the side. A mortified Dr. Loesch gestures for a tech outside the room. 

She’s screaming any profanity her frenzied brain can reach, arms held in a bruising grip by Taren, who’s valiantly trying to calm her down by whispering in her ear. She can’t take any more. Damn the consequences. She won’t go down without a fight. Priest and Saxon leave in a hurry, with fixed expressions of distaste, just as a tech arrives armed with a syringe. 

“Stay the kriff away from me,” Ori snarls.

He looks to Loesch, who nods, wearing an expression much like a supremely disappointed parent. Orla had just ruined his perfectly planned performance and was about to pay for it, that she knows from his face. She couldn’t just lie down and take it anymore. Not with the hope of rescue diminishing by the day and not with evidence of her fate right in front of her. 

Taren has loosened her grip, and with the departure of Saxon, reality is starts to trickle in. Her perfect prisoner act has finally broken, and most likely their plans for tracking down the stolen children. In the span of a minute she’d singlehandedly screwed them both over. The tech jabs her in the arm before she can squirm away. Whatever sedative they used is fast acting. She sags in Taren’s hold, muscles suddenly warm and lax. Her thoughts turn slow and fuzzy. Her mouth opens to protest, but she’s too sluggish to put up a fight - verbal or otherwise - as she’s laid on her cot. Blanket-like darkness presses over her and she can’t help but succumb to the weight of it. 

Taglist:

@fractiouskat @nelba @clonewarslover55 @leias-left-hair-bun @cherry-cokes-world

@passionofthesith @808tsuika @kesskirata @simping-for-fives

please let me know if I’ve forgotten you!!! I try and keep up my taglist but I suck at it

[reading-writing-revolution]

Heather Cox Richardson

September 30, 2021 (Thursday)

Tonight, President Joe Biden signed into law a bill that extends funding for the government until December 3, 2021. The government won’t shut down tomorrow.

In the Senate, Republican Tom Cotton (R-AR) tried to amend the measure to stop aid for Afghan refugees who were evacuated to the United States. That amendment reflected the demands of former president Donald Trump, who insisted that Republicans should oppose the bill, calling it “a major immigration rewrite that allows Biden to bring anyone he wants from Afghanistan for the next year—no vetting, no screening, no security—and fly them to your community with free welfare and government-issued IDs.” Trump suggested they would bring “horrible assaults and sex crimes” that would be “just be the tip of the iceberg of what’s coming if this isn’t shut down.”

For all their talk of concern about taking care of our Afghan allies during the evacuation of Afghanistan, all 50 Republican senators voted for Cotton’s measure. Democrats killed it on a strict party line vote.

Senator Roger Marshall (R-KS) also tried to amend the bill. He wanted to prohibit the use of federal funds to implement vaccine requirements for the coronavirus. This failed, too, but only after all Republicans voted for it.

The Senate went on today to confirm Rohit Chopra to direct the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) for a five-year term. Chopra worked with Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) to establish the CFPB after the financial crisis of 2008, and in its first five years it recovered about $11.7 billion for some 27 million consumers. Former president Trump appointed former South Carolina representative Mick Mulvaney to head the bureau while he was also the director of the Office of Management and Budget; when he was in Congress, Mulvaney had introduced legislation to abolish the bureau. At its head, Mulvaney zeroed out the bureau’s budget and set about dismantling it.

When he took office, Biden began to rebuild the bureau and, in mid-February, appointed Chopra to head it, but Republicans objected to him. Now, more than seven months later, with Republicans insisting he would be anti-business, Vice President Kamala Harris cast the deciding vote to confirm his appointment.

The rest of the congressional day was consumed with Democrats trying to hash out a final version of the Build Back Better infrastructure bill. While the Republicans largely sat the debate out—they oppose the Build Back Better plan altogether—conservative Democrats want to pass a smaller $1.2 trillion bipartisan infrastructure measure before taking up the larger $3.5 trillion measure currently under discussion. That smaller measure focuses on repairing roads and bridges and extending broadband, and lobbyists for construction industries are very keen indeed on getting it into law.

But progressive Democrats cut a deal months ago that the smaller measure would go forward together with the larger one, and they are refusing to allow conservatives to change the terms of that deal now. The Build Back Better bill appropriates $3.5 trillion over ten years to expand child care and elder care, expand Medicare, cut prescription drug prices, provide two years of community college, extend the child tax credit, and combat climate change.

Aside from the measure itself, there are two issues at stake in the debate over it.

The first is about how the Democrats should interpret their victory in 2020. Conservative Democrats like Senators Joe Manchin (WV) and Kyrsten Sinema (AZ) appear to think the Democrats should limit the scope of their legislation to try to pick up moderate Republican votes in the future. More progressive Democrats, led by Pramila Jayapal (WA), who chairs the Congressional Progressive Caucus, believe the Democrats were elected to pass laws that help ordinary Americans who have felt unrepresented by Republicans.

The other fight behind the Build Back Better measure is over how Americans choose to spend their tax dollars. Republicans, and even some conservative Democrats like Manchin, believe that spending $3.5 trillion on human infrastructure is a waste of money and that the new programs will create an “entitlement mentality.”

In contrast, though, Congress spends very little time discussing the defense budget, which, at its current rate, would cost $7.78 trillion over the next ten years. That amount is significantly higher than the defense spending of any other nation in the world. In 2020, the U.S. spent $778 billion on defense, making up 39% of our overall spending. China, the country with the next highest defense budget, spent 13% of its overall spending on defense at $252 billion, India spent 3.7% at $72.9 billion, Russia spent 3.1% at $61.7 billion, and the United Kingdom spent 3% at $59.2 billion.

At the heart of the question of how we spend our tax dollars, of course, is who pays those tax dollars. The Biden administration wants to fund the Build Back Better plan not by borrowing, but by closing tax loopholes and clawing back some of the 2017 cuts to corporate taxes and income taxes on the nation’s highest earners. At Rolling Stone today, reporters Andy Kroll and Geoff Dembicki wrote that political groups funded by the network of right-wing libertarian billionaire Charles Koch, who is deeply invested in fossil fuels, are pouring money and effort into killing the Build Back Better plan.

Meanwhile, the Senate still has not taken up either of the two voting rights acts passed by the House or the Freedom to Vote Act hammered out this month by Democratic senators led by Manchin.

Yesterday, the nonpartisan Voting Rights Lab released a report that noted the new voter suppression laws in place in 18 Republican-dominated states but focused instead on 17 new election subversion laws in 11 of those same states. Those new laws put into place the policies former president Trump’s campaign demanded in 2020. They threaten election officials with prosecution if they send out mail-in ballots to anyone who has not requested one, require legislatures to agree to changes in election rules, transfer control of elections or reporting results from nonpartisan officials to political operatives, and allow candidates to demand recounts at will.

A new law in Arizona, for example, “shifts control of election litigation from the secretary of state (currently a Democrat) to the attorney general (currently a Republican). The provision is designed to sunset on January 2, 2023, when a new attorney general potentially takes office.”

“When Voting Rights Lab launched a few years ago, we knew we’d be busy tracking many disturbing, and oftentimes veiled efforts to suppress the vote of historically excluded Americans,” the report concludes. “What we couldn’t have anticipated at that time was that current officeholders would warp the election process itself….”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 30, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Tonight, President Joe Biden signed into law a bill that extends funding for the government until December 3, 2021. The government won’t shut down tomorrow.

In the Senate, Republican Tom Cotton (R-AR) tried to amend the measure to stop aid for Afghan refugees who were evacuated to the United States. That amendment reflected the demands of former president Donald Trump, who insisted that Republicans should oppose the bill, calling it “a major immigration rewrite that allows Biden to bring anyone he wants from Afghanistan for the next year—no vetting, no screening, no security—and fly them to your community with free welfare and government-issued IDs.” Trump suggested they would bring “horrible assaults and sex crimes” that would be “just be the tip of the iceberg of what’s coming if this isn’t shut down.”

For all their talk of concern about taking care of our Afghan allies during the evacuation of Afghanistan, all 50 Republican senators voted for Cotton’s measure. Democrats killed it on a strict party line vote.

Senator Roger Marshall (R-KS) also tried to amend the bill. He wanted to prohibit the use of federal funds to implement vaccine requirements for the coronavirus. This failed, too, but only after all Republicans voted for it.

The Senate went on today to confirm Rohit Chopra to direct the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) for a five-year term. Chopra worked with Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) to establish the CFPB after the financial crisis of 2008, and in its first five years it recovered about $11.7 billion for some 27 million consumers. Former president Trump appointed former South Carolina representative Mick Mulvaney to head the bureau while he was also the director of the Office of Management and Budget; when he was in Congress, Mulvaney had introduced legislation to abolish the bureau. At its head, Mulvaney zeroed out the bureau’s budget and set about dismantling it.

When he took office, Biden began to rebuild the bureau and, in mid-February, appointed Chopra to head it, but Republicans objected to him. Now, more than seven months later, with Republicans insisting he would be anti-business, Vice President Kamala Harris cast the deciding vote to confirm his appointment.

The rest of the congressional day was consumed with Democrats trying to hash out a final version of the Build Back Better infrastructure bill. While the Republicans largely sat the debate out—they oppose the Build Back Better plan altogether—conservative Democrats want to pass a smaller $1.2 trillion bipartisan infrastructure measure before taking up the larger $3.5 trillion measure currently under discussion. That smaller measure focuses on repairing roads and bridges and extending broadband, and lobbyists for construction industries are very keen indeed on getting it into law.

But progressive Democrats cut a deal months ago that the smaller measure would go forward together with the larger one, and they are refusing to allow conservatives to change the terms of that deal now. The Build Back Better bill appropriates $3.5 trillion over ten years to expand child care and elder care, expand Medicare, cut prescription drug prices, provide two years of community college, extend the child tax credit, and combat climate change.

Aside from the measure itself, there are two issues at stake in the debate over it.

The first is about how the Democrats should interpret their victory in 2020. Conservative Democrats like Senators Joe Manchin (WV) and Kyrsten Sinema (AZ) appear to think the Democrats should limit the scope of their legislation to try to pick up moderate Republican votes in the future. More progressive Democrats, led by Pramila Jayapal (WA), who chairs the Congressional Progressive Caucus, believe the Democrats were elected to pass laws that help ordinary Americans who have felt unrepresented by Republicans.

The other fight behind the Build Back Better measure is over how Americans choose to spend their tax dollars. Republicans, and even some conservative Democrats like Manchin, believe that spending $3.5 trillion on human infrastructure is a waste of money and that the new programs will create an “entitlement mentality.”

In contrast, though, Congress spends very little time discussing the defense budget, which, at its current rate, would cost $7.78 trillion over the next ten years. That amount is significantly higher than the defense spending of any other nation in the world. In 2020, the U.S. spent $778 billion on defense, making up 39% of our overall spending. China, the country with the next highest defense budget, spent 13% of its overall spending on defense at $252 billion, India spent 3.7% at $72.9 billion, Russia spent 3.1% at $61.7 billion, and the United Kingdom spent 3% at $59.2 billion.

At the heart of the question of how we spend our tax dollars, of course, is who pays those tax dollars. The Biden administration wants to fund the Build Back Better plan not by borrowing, but by closing tax loopholes and clawing back some of the 2017 cuts to corporate taxes and income taxes on the nation’s highest earners. At Rolling Stone today, reporters Andy Kroll and Geoff Dembicki wrote that political groups funded by the network of right-wing libertarian billionaire Charles Koch, who is deeply invested in fossil fuels, are pouring money and effort into killing the Build Back Better plan.

Meanwhile, the Senate still has not taken up either of the two voting rights acts passed by the House or the Freedom to Vote Act hammered out this month by Democratic senators led by Manchin.

Yesterday, the nonpartisan Voting Rights Lab released a report that noted the new voter suppression laws in place in 18 Republican-dominated states but focused instead on 17 new election subversion laws in 11 of those same states. Those new laws put into place the policies former president Trump’s campaign demanded in 2020. They threaten election officials with prosecution if they send out mail-in ballots to anyone who has not requested one, require legislatures to agree to changes in election rules, transfer control of elections or reporting results from nonpartisan officials to political operatives, and allow candidates to demand recounts at will.

A new law in Arizona, for example, “shifts control of election litigation from the secretary of state (currently a Democrat) to the attorney general (currently a Republican). The provision is designed to sunset on January 2, 2023, when a new attorney general potentially takes office.”

“When Voting Rights Lab launched a few years ago, we knew we’d be busy tracking many disturbing, and oftentimes veiled efforts to suppress the vote of historically excluded Americans,” the report concludes. “What we couldn’t have anticipated at that time was that current officeholders would warp the election process itself….”

—

Notes:

https://www.defensenews.com/global/2021/04/26/the-world-spent-almost-2-trillion-on-defense-in-2020/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/cotton-amendment-defeated/2021/09/30/7fb1a02c-2206-11ec-8200-5e3fd4c49f5e_story.html

https://www.cnn.com/2021/09/30/politics/government-shutdown-deadline-congress-votes/index.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/16/magazine/consumer-financial-protection-bureau-trump.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2021/09/30/rohit-chopra-cfpb/

https://www.cnbc.com/2019/12/21/trump-signs-738-billion-defense-bill.html

https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-news/climate-koch-brothers-lobbying-biden-build-back-better-1234815/

https://talkingpointsmemo.com/edblog/top-biz-lobbyists-sing-song-of-wtfs-and-woe-over-bif-in-the-balance

https://votingrightslab.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/20210924-VRL-Election-Subversion-Report-.pdf

https://www.cnn.com/2021/09/29/politics/election-subversion-new-laws/index.html

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[taxiperth]

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