#kash tries writing

[unjustgalaxy]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59927326

episode 8 of wonderlust haunts my every day and night in visions and dreams

heres my attempt at making it a little less sad

kinda mainly platonic lintroller but hey they will get there one day

heres a doodle as a gift also:

[misfitwashere]

Kash Patel's Plots

Fiction and Persecution in the FBI and America

TIMOTHY SNYDER

FEB 18

I am not a historian of the FBI, but I am pretty sure that no one has heretofore made their case to direct the organization by writing children's books. 

In Kash Patel's contributions to the genre, he portrays himself as an all-knowing wizard, foiling sinister conspiracies against King Trump.

I don't find this laughable. I find it sinister.

Much can be said about Patel, who the Senate will now be considering in confirmation hearings. The circumstances of his nomination are quite unusual. He has no qualifications. Unlike previous FBI directors, he has never held a prior office that requires Senate confirmation. FBI directors are meant to serve ten-year terms, so that Christopher Wray, nominated by Trump in 2017, should still be in office. But knowing that Trump was planning to fire him, Wray resigned. Patel is a loyalist to Trump who has promised to pursue his enemies.

The United States is in the midst of a regime change, in which Patel, if confirmed, would be useful. In general outline, the idea is to make the government as a whole dysfunctional, while preserving the parts of it than can intimidate and oppress citizens. The FBI, as the chief national law enforcement agency, will have to be transformed.

The enforcement of the laws will no longer be desired, at least not in the traditional sense. In a country where all are equal under the law, those who govern us can also be held accountable. Patel has made clear, in numerous interviews and in his book for adults, that he sees Trump as above the law, others as suspects in a conspiracy, and himself as the savior.

The plots of the children's books bring this home. America is a monarchy and Trump is the king. The efforts of people to do anything aside from celebrating the monarch in his beauty and worthiness are deep state conspiracies.

In the books, the plot points are quite specific and the characters are not disguised. The Russians did not help Trump. Trump won the election of 2020. And in 2024, Biden and Harris used the Department of Justice (presented as a tame dragon motivated by food) to persecute Trump and to prevent him from returning to kingship. In all of this, Patel is is "the distinguished wizard and corruption combatant," an all-knowing mage who foils the plots of the evil-doers and shines in his loyalty to King Trump.

The children's books are revealing in three ways. The first is that Patel sees politics in terms of his own special abilities, his loyalty to Trump, and the evil of anyone who dares to interfere in their special relationship. The second is the definition of law enforcement as a tool of political power. The third is the celebration of fantasy, particular and general. It is a bad thing, of course, that Patel tells American children big lies in his books. But the deeper issue is the proximity of big lies to prosecutorial power.

The fantasy of the children's books is being forced into real life. 

We already know that FBI agents are being screened for their willingness to affirm the fiction of Patel's children's books. They have to affirm that Trump won an election that he lost, and also affirm that the people who tried to overthrow the American constitutional order in January 2021 are heroes. We have also seen that everyone in the FBI connected to investigations of Russia has been targeted for firing. This is in accordance with Patel's idea, expressed in his children's books, that the connection of Trump with Russians was a hoax.

But of course this is not true. Russia supported Trump in numerous ways, and still does. And regardless of that, Russia is a real country, with its own policies towards the United States, and its own intelligence agencies. These carry our regular disinformation campaigns inside the United States, as well as sabotage and assassination. They target critical American officials in attacks meant to injure them and force them from office.

The portrayal of Russia as nothing more than a "hoax" is troubling for a number of reasons. Russia is active in supporting specific American politicians and harming others, for reasons of its own. It supports the kind of propaganda that Patel promulgates. The overlap is hard to miss: Patel himself was paid by Russians to take part in a film.

So dismissing Russian realities as a hoax removes from American official attention a country that does harm to American citizens. And it serves as a pretext for a first purge of the FBI, the purge that will likely precede many others, should Patel become its director. But the "hoax" fantasy also leads us away from what contemporary Russian practice and indeed Russian history might teach us.

Law enforcement, in the traditional sense, depends upon the embrace of facts. There are laws; there are actions; as a factual matter, what you do might or might not violate the law. There are investigations, procedures, hearings, trials, and ultimately a notion of the rights of the citizen or the person. But history reminds us that agencies associated with law enforcement can also operate another way, as the instruments of purges. 

There are two preconditions for this. Their directors must see their jobs as to serve a leader rather than the law. And there must be animating fantasies, big lies, that enable prosecution. And then everyone can be guilty. Truth no longer protects anyone. Fantasy endangers everyone. If you do not believe in the non-existent conspiracy, you must be part of it. And if you do not believe in the untrue pronouncements of the ruler, you must be against him.

Russia today has a national law enforcement agency, the FSB, that behaves much as Trump and Patel would like the FBI to behave. Its arrests are very often based upon phantoms, notions of conspiracies, whims of a ruler.

And in the Soviet history of the 1930s we see how far this sort of thing can go. The justifications for the Great Terror, back then, all involved imaginary conspiracies. Their rhetoric was uncannily to Patel: the "deep state" sounds a lot like the non-existent "network of networks" that the NKVD was pursuing in the USSR back then.

I find Patel's children's books alarming, because they remind me of propaganda fiction from earlier times and other regimes. It is not just the innocent packaging of the dangerous fantasy, but the details: an enemy, Jewish as it happens, is urinated on by an animal, and young readers are meant to laugh. Patel boasted about this.

I imagine that anyone who would tell big lies to small children would also live by them, and within the alternative reality they imply. In his committee hearings, Patel dismissed his own words as smears against him, which shows that the wizard has mastered some of the black arts of totalitarianism.

As FBI director, Patel would not be able to immediately transform the agency into something like an FSB or an NKVD. But we should not delude ourselves that he has any other direction in mind. Senators who vote for him will have done their part in a regime change.

It does not take much to change the atmosphere of a country. The ongoing purge inside the FBI is not lethal, and the first purges it directs against "enemies" beyond will not be, either. But even an investigation can disrupt or even ruin a life. And, before too long, the big lies lead to real deaths.

[mariacallous]

A guest essay by Laurie Winer.

It's as if the so-called shock and awe of that unholy duo—Donald Trump and Elon Musk—combined with loyalists like Kash Patel, Stephen Miller, Dan Bongino, Ed Martin, and many others, has rendered us, for the moment at least, unable to react.

Magical thinking is far from new. Adolf Hitler came to power amid similar lies and conspiracy theories. We should know where that leads. And, while MAGA may ignore the mountains of books written on fascism, the rest of us are not in the dark about what comes next.

As we brace for further actions from a cabinet catering to a serial fabulist, it is important to note that the president's abstruse nonsense isnot random. It has a history. A history that takes us in only one direction, to catastrophe.

Here, then, are things to watch for, all warnings from the well-known story of the Third Reich.

Daily life will take on a surreal quality and, if we do not take some action or join an organized resistance, our discussions will consist of merely repeating the latest horror.

Sebastian Haffner, writing in 1939, noted that “life went on as before, though it had now become ghostly and unreal, and was daily mocked by the events that served as its background…. We were not equal to the situation, even as victims.” Then as now, “many adapt to living with clenched teeth. Unfortunately they form a majority of a visible 'opposition' in Germany. So it is no wonder that this opposition has never developed any goals, plans, or expectations. Most of its members spend their time bemoaning the atrocities. The dreadful things that are happening have become essential to their spiritual well-being. Their only remaining dark pleasure is to luxuriate in the description of gruesome deeds, and it is impossible to have a discussion with them on any other topic.”

People around you will forget that they once were anti-Trump.

Christopher Isherwood wrote of his Berlin landlady in 1933: “Already she is adapting herself, as she will adapt herself to every new regime. This morning I even heard her talking reverently about Der Furher to the porter’s wife. If anyone was to remind her that at the elections last November she voted Communist she would probably deny it hotly and in perfect good faith. She is merely acclimatizing herself in accordance with a natural law, like an animal which changes its coat for the winter.”

The administration will issue absurd denunciations of opponents whose expertise is needed.

Albert Einstein was in Pasadena on the day that Hitler became chancellor, and he never returned to the country of his birth, saying, “As long as I have any choice in the matter, I shall live only in a country where civil liberty, tolerance, and equality of all citizens before the law prevail.” The Nazis attacked him relentlessly in speeches and in news reports. In 1934 at the University of Heidelberg, Nobel Prize winning physicist Johannes Stark, said, “Jewish propaganda has tried to portray [Einstein] as the greatest scientist of all time. However, Einstein’s relativity theories were basically no more than an accumulation of artificial formulas based on arbitrary definitions.” In May 1933, Goebbels issued a brochure entitled “Jews Are Watching You (Juden Sehen Dich An)”, which accused Einstein of disseminating “lying atrocity propaganda against Adolf Hitler”. Under Einstein’s picture was the caption: “Not yet hanged (bis jetzt ungehaengt)”.

There will be parades and possibly mandatory public displays of support for the administration.

In July 2017, Trump went to France as Emmanual Macron’s special guest at an elaborate Bastille Day parade staged to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of the American entrance into the First World War. As planes flew overhead and soldiers precision marched down the Champs- Élysées, Trump stood ramrod straight and saluted the French troops for more than a minute, while Macron merely nodded and smiled. Trump has rarely looked as fulfilled; he was clearly in his happy place. He returned from Paris determined to have a military parade of his own, “but better.” His generals did not agree. “I’d rather swallow acid,” Defense Secretary James Mattis, reportedly said. Eventually Trump got his parade, on July 4, 2019, which he called “The Salute to America.” Mattis was by then out, but attendance was mandatory for Trump’s new acting secretary of defense and new acting head of the joint chiefs of staff. The president hyped the event on Twitter, writing: “People are coming from far and wide to join us today and tonight for what is turning out to be one of the biggest celebrations in the history of our Country.”

A few months after Hitler secured power, all the streets in Berlin were sheathed with swastikas. “It was unwise not to display them” wrote Isherwood. A British journalist named Owen Tweedy wrote, “The election [of March 5] has completely altered Germany, both outwardly and inwardly, so much that it is hard to realize we are in the same country we entered a month ago. The Nazis are out-fascismising Fascismo.” Loud speakers blared out speeches by Goring and Goebbels. Like Trump, Hitler also fixated on crowd size. He described his Nuremberg rally as “the greatest mass meeting ever assembled.”

News sources will disappear or be radically altered.

As the White House kicks AP out of its press pool, and Jeff Bezos declares that Washington Post editorials will be in favor of “personal liberties and free markets”, it’s good to remember what Sebastian Haffner wrote about Hitler’s first year: “Many newspapers and magazine disappeared from the kiosks—but what happened to those that continued in circulation was even more disturbing. You could not recognize them anymore. In a way a newspaper is like an old friend; you instinctively know how it will react to certain events, what it will say about them and how it will express its views. If it suddenly says the opposite of what it said yesterday, denies its own past, distorting its features, you cannot avoid feeling that you are in a madhouse. That happened.”

At first The Munich Post, which had closely covered Hitler since the beer hall putsch in November 1923, continued its reporting, running headlines such as “Nazi Party Hands Dripping with Blood,” “Germany Under Hitler: Political Murder and Terror,” and “Outlaws and Murderers in Power.” On March 9, 1933, five weeks after Hitler became Chancellor and eleven days after the Reichstag fire, the SA gutted the newspaper’s offices while the police stood by. Its journalists went into hiding. At least one ended up in Dachau, others simply “disappeared.”

MAGA will continue to believe what the leader says up until the very brink of disaster.

In the summer of 1939, three months after Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia, Robert Jamieson, a British English teacher living in Essen, wrote to Lord Londonderry, who had recently acted as a go-between British and Nazi leaders: “[The Germans] really believe that the Czech government had voluntarily sought Hitler’s protection and that they would all starve if they do not get this lebensraum and colonies.

**

The debate about whether or not we should bring Hitler or Nazism or fascism into a contemporary political debate is obsolete. Now it is crucial that we take seriously the warnings gathered for us by survivors and writers. When you look at a photo of a Jew about to be arrested or shot and he or she is staring straight into the camera, remember that it is you they are looking at.

NOTES

Defying Hitler, Sebastian Haffner, 1939 (published in 2000).

Goodbye to Berlin, Christopher Isherwood, 1939

Einstein in Berlin, Thomas Levenson, 2002.

The Man Who Stalked Einstein, Bruce J. Hillman, Briget Ertel-Wagner, Bernd C. Wagner, 2015.

The Guardian, January 24, 2017

Travellers in the Third Reich, Julia Boyd, 2017.

Crowds and Power, Elias Canetti, 1960.

“Against Normalization: The Lessons of the Munich Post”, Los Angeles Review of Books, Ron Rosenbaum, February 5, 2017.

“The Munich Post: Its Undiscovered Effects on Hitler,” Sara Twogood, 2002.

Making Friends with Hitler: Lord Londonderry, the Nazis and the Road to War, Ian Kershaw, 2004.

A long-time journalist, Laurie Winer is a founding editor of The Los Angeles Review of Books and author of Oscar Hammerstein II and the Invention of the Musical (Yale University Press). She now lives in France and is at work on a book called The Hitler Tour.

[bubblegumbarbie33]

I really want to write a Shameless AU where the day after 'Cascading Failures' Mandy wakes Mickey up and is like "Fuck this shit we're leaving" and she has a plan to move in with an Internet friend in Indiana but Mickey physically can't leave because Ian Ian Ian so Mandy takes him to the Gallagher house (where Fiona is freaking the fuck out about getting her kids back) and practically begs Fiona to take her brother in like she took Mandy in (not really because they were always fighting but also Fiona never kicked her out so.....)

Fiona's obviously like "Fuck this BS I've gotta get my kids back" and Mickey says that he'll help. Because he remembers what the system is like. Being alone. Fighting every second of every day. Being in a constant state of fight or flight. And he doesn't want that for Ian. Or any of the little Rugrats.

So he stays in the basement and keeps out of the house whenever social services stop by, and cleans and learns how to cook (pizza bagels and burnt eggs) and Fiona gets him a job (because he's not staying at her house with no money coming in, and Mickey doesn't want to work at the Kash and Grab with no Ian) and he works at the Alibi because his dad doesn't come around too often (he owes too many guys money or they owe him a boot to the face) but when Terry busts through the door Kev shoves Mickey under the bar like a little kid.

Mickey goes to the court hearing, because why wouldn't he? And Ian sees him walk in with Fiona and Mickey's looking at the ground and shuffling his feet because he knows that this is too much. That he's caring too much. But Ian doesn't say anything and just sits, glued to his side, until Fiona finally gets her kids back for good and everyone's jumping up and down and Mickey's just smiling but also a little sad because he's never known a family like this.

And then it's peaceful and domestic for a while, Mickey blends into the family. Makes friends with Kev and V. Becomes an dependable ego-check for Lip, a weird cousin/older brother for Carl and Debbie, a helping hand to Fiona, and a boyfriend to Ian. And it's some cheesy Brady Bunch shit but he lets himself love it because he's gone two decades without feeling safe.

Then, of course, Terry finds him. One of his cousins tips him off. He catches Mickey walking home from the Alibi one night, really lays into him. Mickey tries fighting back but finds himself paralyzed by that old, solid fear in the pit of his stomach. So he's just hit, again and again, in the street in front of the Gallagher house.

Until Fiona's on top of Terry with a bat, and Carl's got a blowtorch, and Lip's calling the cops because getting Terry sent to jail will make everyone's life easier, and Ian's kicking the shit out of him, and Debbie's holding a pillowcase full of bricks but she's more focused on making sure Mickey's cuts aren't deep enough to do lasting damage.

And that's enough to get Terry put away for a while. Tony makes sure of it, as due to some personal revelations he's definitely not a supporter of gay-bashing. And Mickey's lying on the couch, feeling like a sack of shit. A burden on the Gallaghers. He contemplates running down to Indiana, but Mandy has seemed happier based on her infrequent texts and social media posts, and he doesn't want to bother her. Because that's what he is. A bother.

But then Ian's sitting down next to him and turning on a movie. And slowly the rest of the family trickles in. And then it's just a normal night with leftovers and action flicks and Ian's arm wrapped around him. And Mickey falls asleep, knowing that when he wakes up the next day, it won't just be a dream.

[vorchagirl]

Can I ask about 'Hunted' from your WIP ask game?

WIP Ask Game

Sure thing! Hunted is my Rook x Spite smutty oneshot I'm writing, where Spite is hunting Rook around the lighthouse as part of a sex game. When he catches her, he gets to fuck her.

Here's a little snippet:

“I can smell you. little Crow,” Spite crooned, his voice coming from somewhere above her. “Caramel. And roses.”

Kash froze, flattening herself against the wall and listening again, sorting sounds in her mind just as Lucanis had taught her: the faint chime of distant magic, the chittering of wisps, and there! The soft whisper of leather brushing against stone. Almost dead above her. 

She pulled back from the edge and inched back to the stairs as Spite laughed again, snickering as he heard her movement. Anxiety surged through her at that mocking laugh, and she dropped all pretense of staying quiet as she began to run, nimbly leaping from stone block to stone block as she fled back to the courtyard.

Purple light blazed brightly as behind her Spite unfurled his wings and leapt from his vantage point on Neve’s tower. Kash heard the whistle of wind as he swooped, and she dropped to the ground and rolled, hearing his frustrated growl as he narrowly missed her. He gracefully hit the ground in front of her, skidding to stop and dropping to a crouch as he watched her, his glowing eyes narrowed as he tried to anticipate her movements.

WIP Ask Game

[yukii0nna]

Chandra Sharma

Age: 33 (at time of death)

Voiced by :Maulik Pancholy

Birthday: 5/10

Head Witch of Water

Occupation: Writer ,Councilman

Family: Hannah Sharma (wife), Jay Sharma (Son), Kikyo Sharma (daughter)

Flaw: I have been told I can be too cold and serious.

Style: Simple clothes are more my cup of tea as they say

Pet Peeves: I detest senseless violence. I know

Favorite food: Chocolate.

Least favorite food: Soup

Hobbies: Drawing, hiking,

Talents: Singing, Dancing, inventing, crafting.

Background

Chandra was a powerful witch at an early age. He was raised by his grandmother to train his magic.At the age of 14,he became the witch of water and night. Then the wizards of the Black Circle came,he helped defend against before going to Tir An Og, falling to sleep for a long time. When he woke up,he found out about how much had changed. Then he met Hannah and had Jay and Kikyo.

Personality

Chandra is what you call a responsible man. He prefered stability and order in the world and disliked chaos. However,he can see why chaos is needed and can see the beauty of it. He was also pretty kind and caring, believing in helping when he can.

Skills

Dark magic: Was known for his powerful curses despite his own dislike for them

Intelligence: Was pretty clever smart

Potions making: Was one of the best potions makers in the white circle

Healing magic: It was one of his most prominent magic

Water magic: Uses it for defense but can and will use it offensive to devastating effects

Night magic: Mostly preferred shadow and moon based spells but can go full on nightmare on anyone.

Enchantment: was the best enchanter in Magix

Trivia

Was planning to tell Kikyo about her being a witch but couldn't due to dying

While everyone thought he died due to an illness,the truth was he died to poison

Loved to go to the beach alone at night to enjoy his elements

Gave Kikyo her googles and Jay his necklace

When he found out what Morgana tried to do the humans,he freaked out due to seeing them as innocents.

Was forever thankful to the Winx for being able to stop the White Circle from doing something drastic

Had a Yaksha familiar named Kash who usually took the form of a cobra

@insomniac-jay @punkeropercyjackson @marrondrawsalot @zexal-club @anxious-twisted-vampire @writing-heiress @sundove88 @missputotyra @abyssthing198 @liviavanrouge

[scurvgirl]

More lunch break writing! Spiderman kisses FTW.

Returning the Favor

Mickey didn't have much cause to think about the earlier, more painful parts of his and Ian's relationship. They were together now, forever according to the ring on his finger and the stubborn love in his heart. Sure, parts of their history sucked, but Mickey had made peace with that as soon as he said "I do" to Ian Gallagher, the love of his life.

But every now and then, something came up and reminded him of the past. Maybe an old t-shirt that had been passed back and forth so many times no one knew whose it was originally popped up in the laundry, making Mickey smile as he remembered a 16 year old Ian in an army uniform trying so hard to make Mickey his boyfriend. One time they'd driven past the Kash and Grab and Ian had looked over at Mickey with the sappiest expression known to man. These things didn't suck so much. Not all of their history hurt, and sometimes it was okay to reminisce.

One such reminiscence came in the form of a movie. Ian and Mickey were doing their usual bicker and insult routine before selecting a movie to watch when Toby Maguire's first Spiderman movie popped up. They looked at each other briefly before Ian hit play. As cheesy as it was, this movie had been formative for Mickey. He remembered watching a spandex covered Maguire and getting the weirdest feelings. Course he knew what those feelings were NOW, with his hot as fuck husband sitting next to him, arm slung around his shoulder. But all that wasn't what brought up memories.

MJ was in an alley, the rain was pouring and soaking her to the bone. Mickey remembered his brothers hooting and hollering while Mickey watched with anticipation as Spiderman descended down. MJ pulled his mask back and they kissed, upside down in what Mickey kinda felt was the best movie kiss he had ever seen. Memories of an old van and a mumbled question slipped into Mickey's mind along with Ian's passionate lack of an answer. Ian's mouth had slanted against Mickey's, wrong but right, his tongue slipped in and he tasted so good, as he always did. He tried to hold on, fuck was ever always trying to hold onto Ian at that point, but he broke away to replace his lips with a cigarette.

Mickey could focus on the eventual pain of separation that followed that kiss, or he could remember how fucking good the kiss itself was. He chose the latter. He turned his head and brought his hand up at the same time to bring his husband down for a kiss. Attention to the movie fizzled out after that.

The next day, Mickey came home from running errands to find Ian stretched out on the couch with a book. Instead of turning around, Ian bent backwards over the armrest so that he was looking at Mickey upside down.

"Hey, how was the hardware store?"

"Don't move." Mickey dropped his bag and walked over to Ian. Before his confused husband could say anything, Mickey was kissing him. It was all wrong but so right - his nose rubbing against Ian's newly beard covered chin, their tongue sliding across each other in seemingly opposite directions. But it was Ian - how could a kiss with him ever be anything less than wonderful? Mickey trailed his fingers through Ian's beard while he felt Ian's big hand come up to grasp Mickey's shoulder.

When the kiss ended, they were both smiling.

"Am I your MJ?" Ian asked softly, fingers gently touching Mickey's bottom lip.

"You got the hair for it." Mickey kissed him again because he knew that when it came to kissing his husband, he would never get enough.

[experiment0626]

My Gallavich Intro

Thanks for putting this together @callivich ! 😊 Name: Krystal

Age: 29

What made you fall in love with Gallavich?

I love how they continued to persevere and make their ways back to each other. Most people in their circumstance(s) would have given up on each other and the idea of ever being together and happy but they loved each other enough to never give up, despite the universe telling them that they should. They knew that they were each other's soulmates so they clawed their ways through the many (many) obstacles that came their way and fought to make it work. Now they're together, married and happy and that'll always make me happy. 🥹🥰

How long have you been a fan? Since May of 2023. Very newly obsessed.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? There's a lot of Gallavich moments that I absolutely love but I'll try to narrow it down to just 3, in no particular order:

In season 1 when Monica shows up for the first time. The first thing Ian did was run to the Milkovich house to see and talk to Mickey. Though Mickey was hesitant to talk to Ian at the moment (because Terry was there), Mickey showed that he cared about Ian by agreeing to meet Ian at the Kash and Grab to make sure he was okay. That moment, even though it is so early in the series, showed how much they cared for each other already. Mickey being the first person on Ian's mind in a moment of distress, and Mickey dropping everything to make sure Ian was alright is a moment that's so special to me. They were so young and had feelings for each other that neither of them probably couldn't really explain if they tried to at the time, but they both knew that there was something more there. Mickey also already knowing Ian's work schedule makes me smile like a giddy little idiot every time lol 🥰

The "sorry I'm late..." moment 🥹💞. Even though Mickey had his own shit to work though with Ian's diagnosis, him still showing up for Ian and letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere despite it all was so fucking sweet and I love it.

The prison reunion. Nothing says true love like getting yourself thrown into prison and giving up your freedom because you found out that the person you love is going to prison and you want to be with them, regardless of the circumstances.

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? Kev and Sheila

Do you write or draw or make edits? I don't - I'm not talented enough for that lol. I do enjoy seeing, reading and supporting everyone else's art and fics though!

Favourite type of Gallavich fics? I usually go for one shot post canon or canon compliant fics, usually full of fluff and/or smut, though I'm not opposed to multi-chapter ones. I love reading post-canon fics about married Ian and Mickey being understanding and taking care of each other as they both continue to work though their shit. Mickey always knowing what his husband needs and taking care of him, even when Ian doesn't ask him to, or Ian always reassuring his husband and letting him work though his own trauma always tugs at my heart strings 😭. I also don't mind reading fics that include the rest of the family. I want to eventually venture out to reading maybe some AU fics at some point though.

Favourite Gallavich quote? Idk if I can choose just one so here's my top 3 - again in no particular order:

Their vows 🥰. Everytime I think about their vows, I think of a headcanon that someone wrote on here (don't remember exactly who at the moment, sorry!) talking about how they each emphasized a different word in their vows and how accurate and on brand it was for them. I get the warm fuzzies everytime.

"Ian, what you and I have makes me free. Not what these assholes know."

"I can take care of him, okay? Let me take care of him til he's better... We're taking care of him here. You, me, us. His fucking family."

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I first started watching Shameless at the beginning of May of 2023 (after being told for years that I should watch it and continuously putting it off - kicking myself now) and as of mid July, I've watch it a total of 4 times. So when I post or reblog something saying that I'm obsessed, I truly mean obsessed. I have never loved or cared for individual characters or a couple from a TV series or movie as much as I do Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich.

[lliinnkk]

This is a fic I've written from a scene out of my daydreams but this scene itself doesn't fit enough into a fandom to put it on AO3, plus if it did, it'd be multiple at once in a rly strange AU buuuuut I'm rly proud of it and I think it's rly cute so I wanna post it here :) I started writing it in February but I'm gonna post it here instead of writing anything new heh 😂

Word Count: 1.75k

Content: self-sacrificial whumpee; hospital whump; non sexual nudity; stubborn whumpee; comfort

(^Never written up smth for whump tag before so I hope this format is good? Hope I didn't miss anything important)

White light. That hospital stench. Kahston?? What the hell's he doing here??

"Oh shit, she's awake!"

Stop screeching this early in the morning, Faith thought, wincing back at the sound. Was there a needle in her arm?

"Didn't expect you to wake up so soon. Glad you're back! We were just finishing up here." Brandy's familiar face caught Faith's blurred vision, creating a sense of sanity in all the confusion.

"Am I..." her voice fell hoarse and dry and she swallowed harshly before speaking again. "Am I in the med centre? When did I get here?" She tried to sit up but Brandy hurriedly yet gently ushered her back down.

"You shouldn't strain yourself right now, just lie down! You've been in a coma for a long time. Just rest for now." Brandy looked strange, acting so serious, but put on a stupid smile like her usual self with an exasperated sigh.

The memories resurfaced slowly as Faith groggily rubbed her eyes. The last thing she could remember was shouting at Julius, and then...here... Oh.

"Where...the hell is everyone? Are they all okay? How long have I been gone for? Kashton??" So many questions, so little time. "I want answers!" Faith demanded.

"Okay, slow down! I told you not to strain yourself alright??" Brandy fussed, looking like she was about to restrain Faith by force. "Kash, why don't you go spread the good word that she's awake? I'll just handle it myself from here. Let's not allow visitors just yet since she's only just woken up."

"Yeah sure, I'll leave you to it then. I guess that's it for training today?" Kash asked, removing his hospital scrubs. Had he been treating Faith as a patient before she woke?

"Yeah go on, take the day off actually, we'll probably all be celebrating with a drink tonight," Brandy winked as she waved Kash out the door.

Faith took this time to take the rest of the room in. The room was full of hospital beds with equipment filled bedside tables but her bed was the only one being used. On her own bedside table she noted the cluttered amount of flowers and get-well-soon cards piled in with all the syringes and drugs of which the sight sent chills down her spine. She felt again the itch to get up.

"So, to explain the situation for you... Hm, this isn't going to be any easy news to break to you." Brandy let out a breath as though the emotional toll of the topic had physically knocked the wind out of her lungs itself as she took a seat on Faith's left. "Since donating seventy years of your lifespan, you've been stuck in a coma for the past week. I'm so sorry."

Faith's eyes widened. "I've been in a coma for a whole week? Seriously? How could I have lost so much time?" Panicked now, Faith made her third attempt at sitting up, this time unchallenged. The world spun around her and her head swam in a thick void of sickeningly painful dizziness.

"Hey, but don't worry! All our plans went ahead smoothly and everyone's actually settled in really well now. And everyone in hospital is healing super quick too, you don't have to worry." Brandy laid a gentle hand on Faith's shoulder to steady her and they made eye contact, though somehow still they couldn't see eye to eye. "You're fine, we're fine. Everything is going absolutely fine. Trust me. All we need you to do for us now is rest."

Faith's brows still furrowed, an expression of devastating betrayal etched across her face. "but... But what's he doing here?? Why's he here, why's Kash here??"

"Julius and I went to rescue him a couple days ago. No, I think it would be five days ago now actually. Yeah, why?" Brandy didn't understand.

"No... No, no, there's no way, why?? Why is he here? What, are you just saying you don't need me or something? Is that what you're saying? I was supposed to go, not Julius, if I was asleep you should've just woken me up, I'd have been fine, it'd have been easy, so easy!"

"What?? Faith, what the hell are you talking about? Did you not hear me or something? I said you were in a coma for a whole week! We weren't even sure if you were gonna survive, there was no way we were gonna make you do anything short of getting out of bed!"

"Just go and rub it in why don't you? I was just sitting here for a whole week and life kept on moving without me as if I'm not here." Blinking back tears, Faith breathed, balling her fists into her hair in an attempt to pull apart the pounding pain by force. Brandy could all but stare, just trying to put together how to react. "I've lost so much time. I... I've got to make up for this somehow. What the hell can I do to make up for this??"

"What the hell did you expect us to do while you were gone though, nothing?"

"No, I expected me not to have been in a god damn coma! I've lost so fucking much now! Why the hell did I have to pass out like that? I should've been stronger!"

"Faith, what the fuck?? You lost seventy years of your life! You'll never get those back!"

"I... Ugh!" Faith didn't know what else to say so she turned over in her bed and pulled the covers over herself but became tangled in wires and needles. "Ugh, I hate this, I hate being here, I feel like I'm being chained down! Get me out of here!"

"Oh alright, just calm down first, I'm only trying to help you," Brandy sighed, gently removing all the strings and wires attached to Faith's body.

Briefly, Brandy left the room only to fetch a spare wheelchair, then returned to the sight of stupid Faith on the stupid floor, groaning with the nauseating pain of jumping out of bed on unsure footing.

"Oh my god. I'm not even surprised you fucking dumbass."

"Help."

"Just get in the god damn chair."

After clambering into her chair she sanitised her hands before wheeling herself with practised precision out into the woods just outside. She shivered in just a hospital gown, cursing the early January air. This decision looked to worsen the state of her already stupid body but she just needed to get out of that damn hospital. Most importantly she needed to be on her own, possibly the most useless and ashamed Faith had ever felt.

"Thought you'd be here." Brandy's voice startled Faith and she quickly wiped her tears on her arm.

"Go away," Faith said, voice wobbling.

"Yeah yeah, I know. I got you a blanket and a bowl of soup. I don't know what the hell you think you're doing in the freezing cold like this," said Brandy, putting the tray of soup and water on the ground to throw a thick blanket over Faith's stunned face.

"Uh...thanks," Faith hummed, reluctantly taking the tray. She found a neat pair of gloves on it and slowly put them on then spooned the broth into her dry mouth. The steaming warmth spread down her throat and into the rest of her body and she felt as though she hadn't tasted something so good in years.

"it's okay you know?" asked Brandy, watching the wind blow brutally through Faith's hair as she continued to eat. "It's okay that you're not okay."

"I'm fine," Faith said, avoiding eye contact.

"Alright then," she took a seat on a nearby stump and hugged herself, thankfully smart enough to have put a coat on before she left. "But I'm not gonna let you just start walking around like you're perfectly healthy."

"I've never been perfectly healthy," Faith scoffed as she rolled her eyes.

"You act like you are."

"I have to."

"Not now you don't."

"Yes I do. What are people gonna think when they see me like this?"

"Not a single one of us hasn't seen you like this."

"Oh so they just don't care?"

"That's not it. Everyone cares, even Julius, that's why he went for you."

"But everyone's just moving on without me now. No one even needs me anymore."

"Faith, that's not true. You're worth more than just a sacrifice."

Faith just sighed and kept eating, eyes fixed on some stray leaf rolling around on the ground.

"You'd never say that about us so why would you say that about yourself?" Brandy stood up and towered over Faith. No response. This was clearly the end of the conversation.

"I'm done," Faith said, putting her spoon down after some time passed.

"Great, let's go back then."

"No, I'm staying here."

"Oh no you're not, you're coming with me," Brandy grinned maliciously, turning the wheelchair around despite Faith's protests. "You're having a shower!"

Faith nagged and shouted but had no strength to fight Brandy when she carried her bridal style into the shower room and gently set her down on a stool, undoing her hospital gown. It probably would've been easier to bathe than shower since she found it so difficult to walk or move but a fear of the ocean came with consequences.

She sat on the plastic stool under the shower head, completely naked and in need of a shave but probably not today. The water was cold, then hot, then just right, and she soon welcomed the warmth embracing her. All protest melted away at the feel of loving fingers in her hair massaging her scalp. The soft wash cloth saw no complaint as it gently washed down every surface of her body.

Afterwards, she was dried off in the bathroom, wrapped in white robes as Brandy brushed through and blow dried her hair with great care. She was brought to the sink where she could brush her teeth before changing into a clean hospital gown and being carried back to her hospital bed.

"There you go - warm, clean and full on tasty food now," Brandy sang, pecking Faith's forehead.

"Thanks Brandy. And sorry about earlier, I promise I'm really okay now," Faith said, cheeks still pink from the warmth of the shower. Brandy knew she still wasn't really okay but knew better than to kick up a fuss about it. Faith stretched, head no longer pounding. "Alright, I think I'm ready for visitors now. Let everyone in!"

Thank you for reading, I am very proud of this!! ^^

[milkmaidovich]

You ever love art so much you impulsively write a thousand words at 10pm on a Tuesday night?

AO3:

I Like The Way He Smells

Rated E

Tags: Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Armpit Kink, Scent Kink, Hand Jobs

OR read it below

🌶 Warning--Spice Ahead🌶

*********************************************************

Ian's been like this as long as he can remember.

From the early days of hidden magazines and clandestine (and entirely inappropriate, he can admit now) hookups with Kash, Ian's been obsessed with knowing how someone smells.

Not the regular smells, the laundry detergent that clings to their clothes, or the shampoo and soap stuck to their skin, no, he wanted the real smell, the scent of their body in the most secretive places, where the very essence of them gathered over the course of a day, a night, lingering in the crevices.

The first time he got up close and personal with Mickey, got a noseful of the tang that was sharp and strong and intoxicating, he’d been hooked. Knew he'd never smell anything better than the pungent, salty musk that was Mickey Milkovich at his most basic elements.

It freaked Mickey as Ian buried his nose in the crease of Mickey’s groin on a hot July night. “Fuck you doin?” He'd pushed at Ian's head, tried to dislodge him by force, cheeks heating in what Ian could only guess was embarrassment.

“Smell so fucking good, Mick,” he’d breathed, the hot, humid air from his words only making everything stronger, more heady. He scraped his face all over the coarse black curls, scenting himself like a cat, wanting to carry this back home with him, smell it while he fell asleep.

“Freak,” had come the hesitant reply, though tentative fingers did their best to wind through the brutally short hairs on the top of Ian's head, tacit allowance for him to continue his nuzzling.

He'd licked along the groove of Mickey's thigh, salty sweat and the unnameable, unquantifiable, inimitable taste of Mickey bursting across Ian's taste buds, making his mouth water, making him moan and whine and grip so tightly at Mickey's hips he left his fingerprints behind, little purpling ovals of desire inked into Mickey’s milk-white skin.

Mickey made sounds Ian had never heard after that, when Ian put all that saliva to good use, taking Mickey into his mouth and down his throat, nose pressed deep into the wild untamed thicket at the base of Mickey's cock, breathing deep around his mouthful, memorizing the way the scent of his love mixed with the air of the South Side on a hot summer night.

It never changed, over the years, his need to know the smell of his lovers, the taste of their sweat, the feel of rough hair against his tongue, but no one ever compared, no one ever even came close to Mickey.

There was something about the way he had a whole timeline, too, the way Mickey's scent had changed and evolved as they grew up, grew older, had regular access to uninterrupted utilities and left the dregs of overactive puberty driven hormones behind. It was fucking special and personal and something that made him tear up when he thought about it too hard, about how far they've come together, how much they've been through to get here.

Today, he snagged Mickey around the waist as they wandered toward their bathroom, a shared shower their favorite way to start their day. “C’mere,” he murmurs, spinning his husband in the circle of his arms, burying his nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling, groaning, inhaling again.

Mickey smiles,soft and fond, used to Ian and his proclivities by now. “Like a fuckin’ bloodhound, loverboy,” and it's all affection, the tone of his voice and the scritch of his fingers through Ian's sleep-mussed curls. “We gonna do this till we both smell like mothballs and fixident?”

Ian rumbles, only half-acknowledging that Mickey even said something, one long-fingered hand trailing down to his husband's wrist, his hand, toying briefly with his rings like he always does before lifting Mickey's arm above his head.

Mickey laughs, head tilted back in enamored resignation. “Alright, alright,” he sighs, the way his body leans belying his long-suffering attitude. “Go on then.”

Ian’s grin is smug, is almost feral, triumphant as always when he rubs his face across Mickey's armpit, the sweet sleep-sweat smell of him heady and rich. He presses his body close, make sure Mickey can feel just what this is doing to him, how much it's doing for him, rutting slowly along the crease of Mickey's hip.

He opens his mouth, tongue slow and languid as he licks at the coarse hairs, hips pressing harder now that Mickey's body is responding, hard and leaking against Ian's own.

“Smell so fucking good, Micky,” he mumbles, high on the aroma surrounding him. “Fucking love how you smell, baby, fuck.”

Mickey's breath is hitching, sweet little whines building in his throat, arching his back to press his armpit harder against Ian's face. “Please,” he whimpers. “Fuck, Ian, please.”

It's almost automatic for Ian to wrap his free hand around them both, lining their cocks up, both leaking profusely, slicking the way and making the slide so easy, so perfect Ian knows it won't take either of them long.

He sucks, tongue working over the rough hairs he's still got his mouth on, leaving a sloppy wet mess as he moves, repositions, moaning loud, breathing hard, desperate to have this smell in his nostrils for the rest of the day, the rest of his life .

It feels like no time could have possibly passed before Mickey is chanting, “now now now now,” and tensing, crying out, digging his nails into Ian's bicep as his climax overtakes him.

Ian shudders at how impossibly slick everything becomes, and the very thought of Mickey’s come marking him up, scenting him like this tips him over the edge. He comes with a grunt, Mickey's name a garbled mess from his open mouth, his chin spit-slick, his cheeks wet and raw, brain pleasantly blissed out and off-line.

After a few perfect, endorphin-filled minutes, Mickey brings his arm down, cutting Ian off and breaking his reverie. “Ay. C’mon, my arm’s gettin’ tired and you owe me a shower.” He looks down pointedly, the mess of their combined release drying on his stomach. “Someone made a mess of me.”

Their laughs echo off the bathroom walls as Ian picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder, apologizing for making such an unwelcome mess, how inconsiderate of him, and not for the first time Ian thanks the universe or fate or whatever it is that gave him this, gave him Mickey, gave him the joy of being known so intimately and accepted so completely that this is a common way for them to start their day, that Mickey is as into all of it as Ian is.

“Love you,” he whispers, mouth against Mickey's ear, pressed close while they wait for the water to warm.

Mickey leans back, preening under the attention, smiling wide and easy. “Yeah yeah,” and it's teasing, affectionate, no bite to it whatsoever. “You just love the way I smell.”

🌶 SOUTHSIDE SPICE (AO3) 🌶

i like how he smells (8/?)

[unjustgalaxy]

KNIGHT AU LINTROLLER ANYONE?im very crazy about it i was supposed to go to sleep early today, but now it's almost 5! atleast u can tell i had fun writing it  ts just a silly short little thing... as im still getting used to writing characters that aren't mine... but yeagh :))

[misfitwashere]

TIMOTHY SNYDER

MAR 13

A guest essay by Laurie Winer.

It's as if the so-called shock and awe of that unholy duo—Donald Trump and Elon Musk—combined with loyalists like Kash Patel, Stephen Miller, Dan Bongino, Ed Martin, and many others, has rendered us, for the moment at least, unable to react.

Magical thinking is far from new. Adolf Hitler came to power amid similar lies and conspiracy theories. We should know where that leads. And, while MAGA may ignore the mountains of books written on fascism, the rest of us are not in the dark about what comes next.

As we brace for further actions from a cabinet catering to a serial fabulist, it is important to note that the president's abstruse nonsense is not random. It has a history. A history that takes us in only one direction, to catastrophe.

Here, then, are things to watch for, all warnings from the well-known story of the Third Reich.

Daily life will take on a surreal quality and, if we do not take some action or join an organized resistance, our discussions will consist of merely repeating the latest horror.

Sebastian Haffner, writing in 1939, noted that “life went on as before, though it had now become ghostly and unreal, and was daily mocked by the events that served as its background…. We were not equal to the situation, even as victims.” Then as now, “many adapt to living with clenched teeth. Unfortunately they form a majority of a visible 'opposition' in Germany. So it is no wonder that this opposition has never developed any goals, plans, or expectations. Most of its members spend their time bemoaning the atrocities. The dreadful things that are happening have become essential to their spiritual well-being. Their only remaining dark pleasure is to luxuriate in the description of gruesome deeds, and it is impossible to have a discussion with them on any other topic.”

People around you will forget that they once were anti-Trump.

Christopher Isherwood wrote of his Berlin landlady in 1933: “Already she is adapting herself, as she will adapt herself to every new regime. This morning I even heard her talking reverently about Der Furher to the porter’s wife. If anyone was to remind her that at the elections last November she voted Communist she would probably deny it hotly and in perfect good faith. She is merely acclimatizing herself in accordance with a natural law, like an animal which changes its coat for the winter.”

The administration will issue absurd denunciations of opponents whose expertise is needed.

Albert Einstein was in Pasadena on the day that Hitler became chancellor, and he never returned to the country of his birth, saying, “As long as I have any choice in the matter, I shall live only in a country where civil liberty, tolerance, and equality of all citizens before the law prevail.” The Nazis attacked him relentlessly in speeches and in news reports. In 1934 at the University of Heidelberg, Nobel Prize winning physicist Johannes Stark, said, “Jewish propaganda has tried to portray [Einstein] as the greatest scientist of all time. However, Einstein’s relativity theories were basically no more than an accumulation of artificial formulas based on arbitrary definitions.” In May 1933, Goebbels issued a brochure entitled “Jews Are Watching You (Juden Sehen Dich An)”, which accused Einstein of disseminating “lying atrocity propaganda against Adolf Hitler”. Under Einstein’s picture was the caption: “Not yet hanged (bis jetzt ungehaengt)”.

There will be parades and possibly mandatory public displays of support for the administration.

In July 2017, Trump went to France as Emmanual Macron’s special guest at an elaborate Bastille Day parade staged to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of the American entrance into the First World War. As planes flew overhead and soldiers precision marched down the Champs- Élysées, Trump stood ramrod straight and saluted the French troops for more than a minute, while Macron merely nodded and smiled. Trump has rarely looked as fulfilled; he was clearly in his happy place. He returned from Paris determined to have a military parade of his own, “but better.” His generals did not agree. “I’d rather swallow acid,” Defense Secretary James Mattis, reportedly said. Eventually Trump got his parade, on July 4, 2019, which he called “The Salute to America.” Mattis was by then out, but attendance was mandatory for Trump’s new acting secretary of defense and new acting head of the joint chiefs of staff. The president hyped the event on Twitter, writing: “People are coming from far and wide to join us today and tonight for what is turning out to be one of the biggest celebrations in the history of our Country.”

A few months after Hitler secured power, all the streets in Berlin were sheathed with swastikas. “It was unwise not to display them” wrote Isherwood. A British journalist named Owen Tweedy wrote, “The election [of March 5] has completely altered Germany, both outwardly and inwardly, so much that it is hard to realize we are in the same country we entered a month ago. The Nazis are out-fascismising Fascismo.” Loud speakers blared out speeches by Goring and Goebbels. Like Trump, Hitler also fixated on crowd size. He described his Nuremberg rally as “the greatest mass meeting ever assembled.”

News sources will disappear or be radically altered.

As the White House kicks AP out of its press pool, and Jeff Bezos declares that Washington Post editorials will be in favor of “personal liberties and free markets”, it’s good to remember what Sebastian Haffner wrote about Hitler’s first year: “Many newspapers and magazine disappeared from the kiosks—but what happened to those that continued in circulation was even more disturbing. You could not recognize them anymore. In a way a newspaper is like an old friend; you instinctively know how it will react to certain events, what it will say about them and how it will express its views. If it suddenly says the opposite of what it said yesterday, denies its own past, distorting its features, you cannot avoid feeling that you are in a madhouse. That happened.”

At first The Munich Post, which had closely covered Hitler since the beer hall putsch in November 1923, continued its reporting, running headlines such as “Nazi Party Hands Dripping with Blood,” “Germany Under Hitler: Political Murder and Terror,” and “Outlaws and Murderers in Power.” On March 9, 1933, five weeks after Hitler became Chancellor and eleven days after the Reichstag fire, the SA gutted the newspaper’s offices while the police stood by. Its journalists went into hiding. At least one ended up in Dachau, others simply “disappeared.”

MAGA will continue to believe what the leader says up until the very brink of disaster.

In the summer of 1939, three months after Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia, Robert Jamieson, a British English teacher living in Essen, wrote to Lord Londonderry, who had recently acted as a go-between British and Nazi leaders: “[The Germans] really believe that the Czech government had voluntarily sought Hitler’s protection and that they would all starve if they do not get this lebensraum and colonies.

**

The debate about whether or not we should bring Hitler or Nazism or fascism into a contemporary political debate is obsolete. Now it is crucial that we take seriously the warnings gathered for us by survivors and writers. When you look at a photo of a Jew about to be arrested or shot and he or she is staring straight into the camera, remember that it is you they are looking at.

[mariacallous]

I am not a historian of the FBI, but I am pretty sure that no one has heretofore made their case to direct the organization by writing children's books.

In Kash Patel's contributions to the genre, he portrays himself as an all-knowing wizard, foiling sinister conspiracies against King Trump.

I don't find this laughable. I find it sinister.

Much can be said about Patel, who the Senate will now be considering in confirmation hearings. The circumstances of his nomination are quite unusual. He has no qualifications. Unlike previous FBI directors, he has never held a prior office that requires Senate confirmation. FBI directors are meant to serve ten-year terms, so that Christopher Wray, nominated by Trump in 2017, should still be in office. But knowing that Trump was planning to fire him, Wray resigned. Patel is a loyalist to Trump who has promised to pursue his enemies.

The United States is in the midst of a regime change, in which Patel, if confirmed, would be useful. In general outline, the idea is to make the government as a whole dysfunctional, while preserving the parts of it than can intimidate and oppress citizens. The FBI, as the chief national law enforcement agency, will have to be transformed.

The enforcement of the laws will no longer be desired, at least not in the traditional sense. In a country where all are equal under the law, those who govern us can also be held accountable. Patel has made clear, in numerous interviews and in his book for adults, that he sees Trump as above the law, others as suspects in a conspiracy, and himself as the savior.

The plots of the children's books bring this home. America is a monarchy and Trump is the king. The efforts of people to do anything aside from celebrating the monarch in his beauty and worthiness are deep state conspiracies.

In the books, the plot points are quite specific and the characters are not disguised. The Russians did not help Trump. Trump won the election of 2020. And in 2024, Biden and Harris used the Department of Justice (presented as a tame dragon motivated by food) to persecute Trump and to prevent him from returning to kingship. In all of this, Patel is is "the distinguished wizard and corruption combatant," an all-knowing mage who foils the plots of the evil-doers and shines in his loyalty to King Trump.

The children's books are revealing in three ways. The first is that Patel sees politics in terms of his own special abilities, his loyalty to Trump, and the evil of anyone who dares to interfere in their special relationship. The second is the definition of law enforcement as a tool of political power. The third is the celebration of fantasy, particular and general. It is a bad thing, of course, that Patel tells American children big lies in his books. But the deeper issue is the proximity of big lies to prosecutorial power.

The fantasy of the children's books is being forced into real life.

We already know that FBI agents are being screened for their willingness to affirm the fiction of Patel's children's books. They have to affirm that Trump won an election that he lost, and also affirm that the people who tried to overthrow the American constitutional order in January 2021 are heroes. We have also seen that everyone in the FBI connected to investigations of Russia has been targeted for firing. This is in accordance with Patel's idea, expressed in his children's books, that the connection of Trump with Russians was a hoax.

But of course this is not true. Russia supported Trump in numerous ways, and still does. And regardless of that, Russia is a real country, with its own policies towards the United States, and its own intelligence agencies. These carry our regular disinformation campaigns inside the United States, as well as sabotage and assassination. They target critical American officials in attacks meant to injure them and force them from office.

The portrayal of Russia as nothing more than a "hoax" is troubling for a number of reasons. Russia is active in supporting specific American politicians and harming others, for reasons of its own. It supports the kind of propaganda that Patel promulgates. The overlap is hard to miss: Patel himself was paid by Russians to take part in a film.

So dismissing Russian realities as a hoax removes from American official attention a country that does harm to American citizens. And it serves as a pretext for a first purge of the FBI, the purge that will likely precede many others, should Patel become its director. But the "hoax" fantasy also leads us away from what contemporary Russian practice and indeed Russian history might teach us.

Law enforcement, in the traditional sense, depends upon the embrace of facts. There are laws; there are actions; as a factual matter, what you do might or might not violate the law. There are investigations, procedures, hearings, trials, and ultimately a notion of the rights of the citizen or the person. But history reminds us that agencies associated with law enforcement can also operate another way, as the instruments of purges.

There are two preconditions for this. Their directors must see their jobs as to serve a leader rather than the law. And there must be animating fantasies, big lies, that enable prosecution. And then everyone can be guilty. Truth no longer protects anyone. Fantasy endangers everyone. If you do not believe in the non-existent conspiracy, you must be part of it. And if you do not believe in the untrue pronouncements of the ruler, you must be against him.

Russia today has a national law enforcement agency, the FSB, that behaves much as Trump and Patel would like the FBI to behave. Its arrests are very often based upon phantoms, notions of conspiracies, whims of a ruler.

And in the Soviet history of the 1930s we see how far this sort of thing can go. The justifications for the Great Terror, back then, all involved imaginary conspiracies. Their rhetoric was uncannily to Patel: the "deep state" sounds a lot like the non-existent "network of networks" that the NKVD was pursuing in the USSR back then.

I find Patel's children's books alarming, because they remind me of propaganda fiction from earlier times and other regimes. It is not just the innocent packaging of the dangerous fantasy, but the details: an enemy, Jewish as it happens, is urinated on by an animal, and young readers are meant to laugh. Patel boasted about this.

I imagine that anyone who would tell big lies to small children would also live by them, and within the alternative reality they imply. In his committee hearings, Patel dismissed his own words as smears against him, which shows that the wizard has mastered some of the black arts of totalitarianism.

As FBI director, Patel would not be able to immediately transform the agency into something like an FSB or an NKVD. But we should not delude ourselves that he has any other direction in mind. Senators who vote for him will have done their part in a regime change.

It does not take much to change the atmosphere of a country. The ongoing purge inside the FBI is not lethal, and the first purges it directs against "enemies" beyond will not be, either. But even an investigation can disrupt or even ruin a life. And, before too long, the big lies lead to real deaths.

[demigoddessqueens]

Could you write something with Kashaw meeting a shy member of VM and eventually they slowly become friends that turns into something else? ❤

Awww! Kashaw deserves a lil love as a treat

And this is my first request for him

Obviously you meet him in Vasselheim with the group

Of course he’s all rough to the others but then he sees you…

“Well, why didn’t they mention how cute you were?? Of course we’ll help now!”

Cue Zahra and VM making a face 😝

If you’re into it, yeah Kash can be super touchy flirty. If you’re not, ok he can respect that.

Every time he and Z always cross paths with you, it’s constant flirting all the time!!

And if he tries to kiss you?? Good luck NOT getting interrupted by everyone else

The most random nicknames, and it’s always something about you that he finds cute, mostly related to your aesthetic and/or abilities

“Sparkles, freckles, magic hands, etc.”

Of course, while looking for the Death Ward armor and stuff (fighting Z’s monster) he’s super protective towards you and you’re safety is his first priority

Though the brief visit is cut short, he can’t leave yet without giving you the biggest, passionate kiss. Yeah, he’ll miss you.

“Hate to see you go, but love watching you leave” kinda vibe

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Vaxleth + 29

"Something silly"... like making a casino regret making his girl feel bad lol

29. doing something silly to cheer them up i was actually inspired by last night's episodes to write this!

Something is wrong with Vax. They just survived a hell of a fight with a murderous herd of barbarians, one of whom was wielding a pretty gnarly Vestige, but he's not joining in on all the fun. Keyleth watches him watch everyone else, his arms crossed and his face expressionless.

She wants to ask Vex for advice, but Keyleth is pretty sure that Vex isn't a big fan of her and Vax getting any closer than they already are—not that they're particularly close or anything. Sure, Vax said he was in love with her. But people say all sorts of things when facing down a horde of zombies and almost certain death! And besides, she made an absolute fool of herself when Kash was around, and there's no way he didn't notice that.

Oh gods, what if that's why he won't come sit with them? He made a grand confession and she repaid him by blushing like a schoolgirl the minute someone else was nice to her. But then, he was so kind in the Feywild, especially after she fucked up that spell, so he can't have been that upset, could he?

She takes a long swig from her tankard. She is not nearly drunk enough.

She lets Pike ply her with more ale, eager to be out of her own head, and it doesn't take long for her plan to work. Her thoughts are pleasantly loose and swimmy, and she can gaze across the tavern at Vax without spiraling out of control.

At one point, Vex lets out an uproarious laugh at something Pike says that Keyleth definitely doesn't hear, and Vax turns to look their way. He meets Keyleth's eyes, and her reflexes are far too dulled to pretend she hadn't been ogling, so instead she tries to cheer him up. She stirs up what magical energy she can muster to grow her two front teeth, turn her nose into a round little button, and sprout two long, floppy ears from the top of her head. She grins with her strange half-rabbit face, sticking her tongue out at him, and her heart flips when she sees him chuckle to himself.

"Oi, what the fuck?"

Keyleth turns to see Pike and Vex staring at her in horror and disgust.

"You're like some fucked-up science experiment," Vex says, leaning away from her.

"I try not to be preachy," Pike adds, "but that is just unholy."

Keyleth deflates, letting her rabbit features shrink back to her normal ones. "Sorry, I was just trying to..." She trails off when she sees that once again, Vax has resumed his stoic observation of the tavern.

"Give us nightmares?" Vex supplies, sliding another tankard her way. "Drink up, Kiki. Pike wants a recounting of what happened in the Feywild and I would like to be blackout for it."

Keyleth accepts the drink and tosses one final glance toward Vax before beginning a slurred recollection of their interplanar adventures.

[pushingdaisies1]

Request: “Eeeeeeeee im so excited for the next season of vox machina would you write something with Kash who has a crush on someone who is typically cheerful and shy? how he would confess to them? I just think it would be funny for him to have an s/o like that considering hes so grumpy all the time”

❥A/N: I'm so excited also!!! Literally, I can not wait to see what they get up to and what goes down. Of course, I can totally do that! I rlly like the idea you came up with, I feel like that kind of dynamic with him could (AND WOULD ofc) be super exciting. Trigger Warnings: Just some sweet sweet Kash fluff. With me not being very deep in Vox Machina, I tried to do his character the best justice. I really hope I got him down to full detail.

 ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

˚ Oh between you guys, it was definitely a situation of fell first/fell harder. He didn't know how to really poke at this feeling with you. He knew it was different, but he was a little hesitant to dive down into the details.   ˚ Not saying that he didn't like the different feeling, but he didn't wanna tamper with anything. He was tougher and you were softer around the edges. With your antics, you definitely poked through his ruff charismatic shell. 

 ˚ Seemingly, he had a regular side with you. Not more so soft, but he was less cynical. He more indulged in your look on the world and life itself. He really wanted to listen. More comfortable getting into the nitty gritty. Which didn't hit him until later that he was actively falling for you.  ˚ It was all small things really. Smiling lightly at any remark you had, only for but a glimpse. Nicely growing a mutual respect for one another. His cheeks getting a pinch of pink when you both made eye contact, on accident or not. Your dynamic was nice to sink into , he did really enjoy your small talks.  ˚ He was whipped for you and to be honest, he wasn't the slightest bit mad about it. But he didn't want his "reputation" to be tainted (also cause he was a little scared with this confrontation.) So he kept it all down , deeply locked inside of his consciousness.  ˚ It was until one of your little talks , standing around that it all spilled out. He got lost in his thoughts , and standing with you something was kicking at him. He knew what it was but again , didnt want to say anything. But the war going on inside his head stopped , and it was either now or never.  ˚ A long silence simmered between the two of you. He made a very quick glance towards you. Now you both shared an awkward moment of eye contact , it was time to throw caution to the wind. “I like what we have a lot and I really like you , even though I think you have a huge stick up your ass.”  ˚ He took a clump of your shirt and pulled you in for a somewhat messy kiss , which you immediately reciprocated. Jokes on him , you had been pining over him also. Thankfully he made the first move. Any touch was filled with a whole heaping ton of passion and a bunch of nurture.  ˚ Really feeling happy with this choice , your lips parted away. As soon as your eyes met for one more final glance , he made his way out of the room. Not before leaving you with a wink. Your heart could NOT stop pounding after that moment , were you going to have a heart attack?  ˚ With such your cheery attitude , you never really thought this sort of moment could happen to you. This stuff only seemed like the gossip from fairytales , only the luckiest of people fell upon such a graceful feeling. Take this as a goodbye from the caring cleric. Which you did , and you held onto it.  ˚Especially when you and your friends met back up with one-another. Right as soon as Percy realized you were blushing , everything went down hill from there. Everyone erupted into playful bickering , but you couldn't help the warmness that could still be felt on your cheeks. It melted completely too you.  ˚ Even though that kiss seemed like a goodbye , something in you hoped that you would see him again. Maybe you were slowly going crazy , but he made you feel some type of way. You didnt wanna just burry it down in the depths , so after that you continued to stay hopeful.