#like it's eight years since the lawsuit

[sammysam999]

Idk if it's funny or just inconvenient, but after being so fed up by getting dead named I just threw my supplemental id (in Germany you can get one as trans person from the dtig until your name got changed officially and schools, universities and other public entities have to respect it) at them and they now changed it on my certifications too.

This might be an issue because my work place doesn't know that I not just have a preferred nickname but am indeed trans. It's okay because it's a public service job, I am an union member, the job and team is generally queer friendly and I got that position because they can't lose another person trained in that department, so I basically don't fear getting fired because of it, because hell of a lawsuit they would lose and my department literally might collapse with one person less, but still it's a weird situation to be in and having to explain.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

My Darling

"Who even is that guy?"

"That's my darling"

----

It starts with a post.

Eddie had posted a photo on Instagram holding his acoustic guitar, cross legged on a chair.

Recently he had been front cover of a magazine of 'him' wrapped around a young woman. Living the Rockstar life.

His agent had suggested he show a more domestic side to him, a softer side.

Hence the acoustic.

It was summer so Steve was off of work and sleeping on the couch behind him, blankets up to his ears. The only thing visible was his hair peeking out and his arm hanging over the side of the couch. A sleeve of tattoos running down it all the way to his knuckles. Eddie loved that arm. He loved the way the tattoo curved around his knuckles like water. His nice, big. veiny hand that-

WOAH off topic.

He had done half the tattoos himself and made sure he payed for it all.It was the least he could do for all Steve has done for him.

They met eight and a half years ago, Steve had seen Eddie play at shitty clubs and recognized his mop of hair getting hit in the alleyway.

Eddie thought he was a goner for sure until Steve ripped the guy off him.

Steve just shot him a smile and complimented his guitar skills.

Eddie fell to his knees. He was gone for him.

He invited Steve to band practice as a thank you since he didn't have much to offer.

Two weeks later they were dating and Steve has been their number one fan since.

When Eddie got the record deal he dedicated everything to Steve.

Everything always was for him. As it should be.

Anyways,

Eddie posted the photo excited to promote the acoustic cover of his hit song 'My Hero, My Darling'.

The comments instantly went ballistic asking who the random man behind him was. He definitely wasn't in the band and why would notorious lady killer Eddie Munson have a man in his house...he couldn't possibly have friends.

Eddie responded to one comment only, knowing the rest would sort itself out.

"That's my darling ❤️"

----

"Eddie," Steve was frowning at him, poking his side with his foot.

"Eddie look at me this is serious."

"Yes my love?"

"You outed yourself. You were doing such a good job keeping this a secret. This will change everything."

Eddie turns over until his holding Steve close to him, his face in his hands.

"Good. I'm tired of hiding you my darling. I'm tired of the accusations."

"But Eddie you OUTED yourself."

"I won't say anything about you, I'd never out you Stevie. But I'm done hiding that I'm a simple man in love."

"...me too. I'm done too."

"Darling are you sure? This is a big deal. What about your school? Your principal?"

"I don't care. Everyone important to me knows. My family, my real family, know and don't care. They do wonder why I've been single for eight years but they'll get over it."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me oh my god that's the hottest thing I've ever heard. I love you so much please I can't live another moment not having you mine. Besides, if you get fired that's definitely a lawsuit and you know I've been pleasing for you to quit so I can take care of you, but you love those damn kids. Just...be mine...please."

"I've been yours. Since the start. Since always." They both have tears in their eyes.

"Yes?"

"YES OF COURSE YES!"

They're giggling through their kisses.

---

"Heeeeyyy everyone thanks for joining my live. I have something super important to inform you on! I'm getting married!!!!!"

The comments instantly flood in questioning him on moving too fast, asking if he's on drugs. The usual.

"Oooooh you guys have no idea."

----

The photo goes up an hour after the live ends.

It's Steve sitting on the couch, glasses on, red pen in his mouth. He's wearing a thick sweater and grumbling grading papers.

He looks so soft, so smooth, it's Eddie's favorite picture. The next picture in the carousel is Steve backstage at his concert. They're holding onto each other like they need each other to breathe.

The last picture is a selfie taken minutes after. Eddie with his stage makeup sweating off his face smiling brightly at the camera. and Steve kissing his cheek. Eyes squinted shut and eyeliner thick, he had worn it as a treat for Eddie.

It was well received.

The caption reads:

"I'm so happy to announce I'm marrying my best friend and partner of eight years! Everyone meet my darling. Steve is a local middle school teacher who has literally saved my life more than once. He saved my heart. God, I love him so much.

P.s. yes the tours are in the summer so Stevie can travel with us. I'd never leave him."

---

Bonus engagement edition:

"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED TO EDDIE MUNSON?!"

"Yes. We've been over this."

Eddie stuck out his hand to shake, "hi, Eddie Munson, nice to meet you."

"YOU HID THIS FOR EIGHT YEARS?!"

"Yes."

"I'M BASICALLY YOUR BROTHER! HE'S MY FAVORITE CELEBRITY!"

"Yes Dustin and you can't keep a secret."

"...fair...welcome to the family."

*inspired by my friend only learning her cousin was marrying someone famous when he showed up to Thanksgiving and she lost her mind

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Part Nine

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | FINALE

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya’ll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are three spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you’re wanting to use me;p

            You twirled in your hotel bathroom, admiring your dress in the mirror. A bright smile on your face. You were looking forward to the night. Your dad, having won his lawsuit against John a little over a month ago, was attending a charity gala & your mother was unable to attend as she was busy with work. So, your father had asked if you would be date. You happily accepted.

            Ever since you left the facility two months ago, your relationship with your father had improved. He had made a complete 180 in light of Dr. Mooney’s assault charges. Your father had apologized to you, a genuine one, hugging you & holding you, promising he would never let another man let you down, let alone himself. It was all you could ever truly want, to be accepted by your father. Now, more than ever, your father-daughter relationship was thriving.

            After you accused Dr. Mooney of rape, the investigators were quick to get to work. They completed a rape kit on you which did indeed prove that there was a recent intrusion. There had been no DNA of course since you made Rafe wear a condom, but the bruises that formed on your upper arms matched Dr. Mooney’s hand size, & those bruises were indeed from him. From when you quite perfectly framed him as he held you down on the couch.

            What solidified the case more so, however, because Dr. Mooney pleaded innocent, was Albert’s testimony. He revealed the rumor about Dr. Mooney & a former patient that he had told you about. After a deep dive into the allegations, it was revealed that Dr. Mooney did have a relationship with the former patient, though she insisted it was consensual. But the nurse who was with you most of that fateful day, Nurse Graham, played the part of witness, sharing that she overheard Dr. Mooney & yours conversation in your room right before you went to his office. The case was solid & closed. Dr. Mooney was effectively removed from his position at Arrowhead & was sentenced to three years in prison. It wasn’t as long as you would have preferred, but you were content with it. Dr. Mooney had gotten what he deserved. You had won.

            Of course, you were forced to play the victim for some time, isolating yourself, struggling to talk in therapy. But as the weeks passed, you felt safe to open up more, to be yourself again. No one questioned the truth. Sometimes, very rare times, you did feel guilty for changing the course of Dr. Mooney’s life. It was no surprise that his affair with Nurse Carney was revealed, ultimately leading to his wife leaving him. He was completely alone. And you were free, surrounded by those who swore to love you just as you were.

            What ate away the most at you was how there were countless rape victims out there, real rape victims, whose cases were going unjustified. That you conjured up the whole case & succeeded in getting an innocent man imprisoned. But you argued to yourself that Dr. Mooney was a shitty person, that he deserved some sort of consequence for his lies & false authority. It was a win to you, & that’s all you really cared about.

            Fortunately, you didn’t think on it much. After Dr. Mooney was removed from the facility, Dr. Frazer made the decision to close the Arrowhead for the summer, to hire new doctors & nurses, to re-write policies & protocols, to ensure that something like your case never happened again. It was the least he could do, after all.

            So, with Arrowhead closed, Albert finally reached out. He was apologetic for his coldness to you in those last days, but you reassured him that you didn’t blame him. You had called him weak, after all. But the two of you would talk on the phone every now & then. He was near the end of his program when Arrowhead closed so he was given the ‘okay’ to re-enter life in the real world. He & his boyfriend moved in together & he was starting a new job as a drug counselor at the high school in his hometown. You were glad to have Albert back.

            Grabbing your phone off the counter, you snapped a couple pictures of yourself in the gown you wore, sending them to Albert. He replied with heart eyes. You giggled, clicking your phone off. Just as you did, there was a light knock on your door.

            “_____, it’s near time to leave. Are you about ready?” You father asked from the other side.

            You touched up your hair just a tad before going to the door, opening it. You grinned up at your father in his black-tie suit. He looked handsome. You were glad to be on his arm that night.

            “How do I look?” You asked, twirling yet again for him.

            Your father grinned, his eyes taking you in, “You look beautiful.”

            “Thank you, daddy.”

            Your father offered his arm to you then, “The car is waiting downstairs.”

            Quickly, you grabbed your Yves Saint-Laurent clutch & tangled your arm with your father’s. He led the two of you out of your hotel suite & to the elevators. On the ground floor out front, there was a sleek black sedan waiting for the two of you. Your father opened the back door for you as you slipped inside, sure to be careful not to catch your heel on the frame. Your father followed after you.

            The town where the charity gala was being held was in a town you had never heard of. It was small but upper class, similar to the town you lived in. It was called Kildare & lied along the Atlantic coast. And even though the end of summer was nearing, you couldn’t feel it in the air. It was still warm out & the breeze from the ocean helped keep it cool. You had spent the day earlier today shopping along the boardwalks & indulging in the cute café’s. You were happy to be here with your father.

            In the car, your father clacked away on his phone, likely responding to emails, so you just watched as the quaint little beach down passed you by. After about twenty minutes, the car pulled into a beautifully crafted country club. It had clearly been decorated for tonight’s event. There were lights tangled around the trunks of trees, a handful of elegantly crafted benches, & even a pearl colored carpet that invited guests would walk on as they entered the gala.

            Yet again, your father offered his arm & you took it, admiring the building you were entering. You had no idea what the charity event was for but you didn’t really care to. You were just glad to be seen in public with your father after his lawsuit. Not that anyone knew about it since it wasn’t public knowledge, but you wanted people to see that your father was proud of the daughter he had on his arm.

            Inside the venue, you were aghast at the fantastical elements of it. The interior & décor of it all made your heart leap with joy. It would be one of the first events you attended after returning home, family gatherings not included. You were more than ready to have fun, but of course, not too much fun.

            Your father kisses you on your temple, releasing you, "I'm going to go find the host, why don’t you find us a table?”

            “Okay.” You smiled.

            Before finding a table, you chose to take a stroll though the gala. There were hundreds of people, everyone dressed to the nines. You easily fit in. It was a strange feeling but you welcomed it, nonetheless. Near the back of the spacious room was the many tables of food along with bowls of punch. You inspected your options, your eyes often returning to the desserts table. In the corner was an open bar. You desperately wished you were old enough to get yourself a glass of wine. And you were confident that they would give you one without checking for your ID, but with your father close, you didn’t want to risk disappointing him. Perhaps if you asked him first…

            “Craving bubbly?”

            The voice just behind you made you jump, as it was much too close. You spun around, expecting it to be a random guest speaking to another, but the eyes you met made you falter in your step.

            “Rafe…” You breathed out unbelievably.

            “Boo.” He smirked, his hands hidden inside the fitted formal pants he wore, “Ghost of Arrowhead’s past.”

            “What are you doing here?” You asked, but your eyes quickly flashed around the room in search of your father.

            “I should be asking you that. You’re on my turf, after all.”

            That brought your attention back to him. You frowned, “Your turf?”

            Rafe smirked, “Kildare. My home.”

            A lump formed in your throat. What were the chances? Really? What were the fucking odds that the key to your rape accusation would be standing right before you. Far from Arrowhead.

            “You’re looking a little sick, _____. Spooked?”

            “No, no.” You shook your head but he was right. You were beginning to feel dizzy & nauseous. “It’s nice to see you.”

            Rafe chuckled darkly at that. He took a step forward & you were quick to step away from him. But he continued walking past you to the nearby bar.

            “Two glasses of the house red.” He ordered from the bar, but his eyes trailed back to you.

            You felt rooted to your spot, unable to move away from him. Had you known that you were going to run into Rafe Cameron of all people, you would have stayed at the hotel.

            The bartender handed Rafe the two glasses of wine. Rafe turned back towards you, offering you one of the glasses. You stared dumbly at the crimson liquid then at the hand holding the glass before trailing back to his eyes. He looked devious in the dimly lit space.

            “I shouldn’t.”

            Rafe stepped closer, his voice lower, “We shouldn’t do a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop us, does it?”

            You gulped. With a shaky hand, you accepted the glass but didn’t take a sip. Your father be damned, you didn’t trust yourself to drink now. Not with the one person who knew the truth about your darkest secret.

            Rafe tipped the glass, savoring the taste of the wine as he peered at you. You shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

            “Well, it was nice seeing you.” You mumbled, “Thanks.”

            You were about ready to spin away & run off but Rafe was quick to gently snatch your elbow. Your skin tingled & burned where his fingers grazed you.

            “Running away? So soon?” Rafe clicked his teeth in disappointment, “The party is just beginning.”

            All your fire & blissful independence evaporated as he held you close. He clinked his glass to yours, “Indulge.”

            Knowing he wouldn’t let you go until you obliged, you were quick to bring the glass of wine to your lips. Uncaring of any potential curious stares, you quickly downed the wine, the smokey & sweet flavor going unappreciated as you swallowed it all. You released a breath of air, handing the glass back to him.

            “I have to go.”

            “Wait, wait, Cinderella.” Rafe tugged you closer. He tucked your empty glass under one of his arms as he used his free hand to reach for your face. You jolted back but he held you tight. You stared wide-eyed at him as his thumb brushed against your lower lip. When he pulled it away, you noted the stain of wine on his finger, mixed with the maroon color of your lipstick. Rafe stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking the flavor. You felt your lips part as you watched the action.

            “As good as I remember.” His eyes twinkled.

            You ripped yourself away from him then, snaking your way through the plethora of people before you found your father. He was sitting at a table with a man & woman who looked familiar. But how could they? There would be no one here you would know. Or at least you thought that until Rafe appeared out of the depths of hell.

            “Dad.” You tried to sound as normal as possible, but your heart was racing with panic.

            “There you are.” He grinned proudly up at you, “_____, this is a friend of mine, Ward & his wife, Rose.”

            You offered the couple a polite smile before moving to sit down next to your father.

            “Your dress is beautiful, _____.” Rose, who was quite younger than her husband, commented.

            “Thank you.” You replied softly.

            Ward eyed you then. But it wasn’t the kind of eyeing you were accustomed to when it came to meeting new men. He looked at you as if he saw right through you, not like he was admiring your youthful beauty.

            “My son was right, Harold. Your daughter is something.” Ward shared with your father, but his eyes never strayed from you.

            Your father smiled at that, though it appeared force. All the while, you were confused by the comment.

            “I’m sorry.” You chuckled awkwardly, “Your son?”

            Then, like the phrase goes, speak of the devil & he shall appear, Rafe appeared just behind Ward & Rose.

            “Oh.” You failed at hiding your distress.

            “You two were at Arrowhead not too long ago.” Ward pointed out, but it wasn’t necessary. Of course you knew where you met Rafe.

            Your father shifted in his chair, his eyes falling to Rafe’s as he took a spot on the other side of Rose, an empty chair just between the two of you. It was clear your father didn’t trust Rafe. So, why was he ‘friends’ with Ward?

            You forced a smile, “Hello, Rafe.”

            “_____.” Rafe returned, his voice thick with mischievousness.

            “Rafe told us about how you were the only one friendly to him.” Rose commented, her smile bright as she said as such.

            “She was definitely the most welcoming.” Rafe added, the tone in his voice playful.

            You felt your father’s eyes on you but you made it point to not face him. You had only just gotten his trust & acceptance back not too long ago. You’d be damned if Rafe would ruin that.

            “Rafe.” You said his name firmly, “Would you dance with me?”

            Rafe’s eyes glinted under the light at your offer.

            “I don’t think that’s the best idea, _____.” Your father said, though his voice was low. You met his eyes, seeing the uncertainty there, but you needed to get Rafe away from your father.

            “Let the kids be kids, Harold. We’ve got business to discuss, anyway.” Ward leaned back in his chair, staring comfortably at both you & your father.

            You could see the struggle occurring within your father but he ultimately inhaled sharply, nodding, “Stay where I can see you.”

            “Harold,” Ward laughed loudly, “You baby her. She’s quite the grown woman as far as I can see.”

            Your father ignored Ward’s passive aggressive comment, instead turning to you, “As I said, _____.”

            “Of course, Dad.”

            Rising from your chair, Rafe was quickly beside you, offering his arm. You reluctantly took it. As you did, you didn’t miss how Rafe’s father’s eyes never left the two of you as Rafe led the way to the dance floor.

            On the dance floor, Rafe was swift in ensnaring one of your hands in his own before circling his arm around your waist, practically pressed your chest against his own.

            Watch Me Burn by Michele Morrone began playing & Rafe moved your bodies in time with the music. It didn’t pass you by how fitting the music was in that exact moment. The song having been shot to stardom thanks to the erotic foreign films 365 Days. A trilogy focused on the tumultuous & tense sexual relationship between two people who shouldn’t be together. You had gotten yourself off to it a handful of times when they first came out. But now, you only felt extreme discomfort.

            Rafe cocked his head, watching you intently as you looked everywhere but at him.

            At the first chorus, Rafe twirled you before catching you firmly then dipping you. You stared hard at him.

            “Bring back memories?”

            He returned you upright, his hands finding your arms to drape them over his shoulders. His own hands found themselves on your hips. Despite the thick layers of the dress, you could feel his heat, & how it made your body feel like it was on fire.

            “Why are you doing this?” You asked, your voice low so only he could hear you.

            “Because I can.” He responded curtly.

            You glared up at him as he pressed your more against him, his hands trailing along your lower back.

            “That’s not a good enough reason.”

            He chuckled at that, shaking his head knowingly, “And what was your reasoning?”

            “For what?” You bit back.

            Rafe narrowed his eyes, smirking, “You know exactly what.”

            You pressed your lips together, licking them in distress. Rafe’s eyes flashed to the movement, his own lips parting.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice shook.

            He leaned forward until his lips were at your ear, “You’re a bad liar, _____.”

            You gasped softly. It was foolish of you to think Rafe couldn’t put two & two together. He was an ass, but he wasn’t dumb.

            “But you fooled the police.”

            At the mention of the police, you attempted to shove yourself away, but Rafe was secure in holding you against him.

            “I didn’t fool anyone.” You snarled. “What happened, happened.”

            Rafe nodded, “If you say so.”

            “I do.” You lowered your eyes, “You don’t know anything.”

            Rafe hummed at that, “Maybe. But what I do know is that you gave me a going away gift at a very crucial time in your life. And Dr. Mooney’s.”

            You stopped dancing. Rafe copied. The two of you stood still on the dance floor, staring hard at one another.

            “I wonder what would happen to Dr. Mooney’s sentence if I came forward with what I know. With what we did.”

            “You wouldn’t.” You dropped your arms from his shoulders.

            “Watch me.”

            Tearing away from him, you made to leave the floor but Rafe was, as always, quick like a snake to snatch your wrist. He yanked you back to him before he planted his mouth on yours. You cried softly into the kiss before catching his lower lip between your teeth & sinking them in.

            Rafe ripped away, bringing his fingers to his lip. Blood spotted his fingertips.

            “I forgot that you liked it rough.”

            Unsettled at his comment, you stepped backwards, “Stay away from me. I mean it.”

            Rafe glowered, a devilish smile gracing his unacceptable handsome features.

            You spun away from him, desperate to create distance, but as you did, you didn’t miss the parting greeting he offered.

            “No promises.”

            The rest of the night you managed to avoid being within 10 feet of Rafe. He was always there though. Even when you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes burning into you, always watching you.

            You stayed glued to your father’s side, & you were grateful that when you found him after your tense dance with Rafe that he was no longer with Ward Cameron. The whole night, you entertained small talk with your father’s acquaintances but never strayed. You barely even had the nerve to look around the room, fearful you’d meet the dangerous blues you were desperate to never see again.

            It wasn’t until you & your father were in the car back to the hotel that you finally managed to relax, though Rafe’s threat still lingered heavily on your mind. Would he go so far as to totally counteract everything you had done? You wouldn’t put it past him.

            But your relaxation was short-lived once in the hotel suite. Before you could disappear to your room for the night, to get plenty of sleep for the drive back home to Virginia Beach tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a long drive, less than two hours, but you wanted to sleep away the tension from the night’s event. Your father stopped you though.

            “We’re extending our stay for another day.” He shared as he began to undo his tie.

            You frowned, glancing at him, “How come?”

            He sighed heavily, sitting down at the only dining table in the suite to unlace his shoes, “The Cameron’s invited us to dinner.”

            You felt your heart falter. No.

            “And I accepted. You’re expected to come with me.”

            Your body began to shake, “Do I have to?”

            “Yes, _____.” His voice was tense, & he wouldn’t look you in the eyes. Something was going on. He knew something you didn’t.

            “But—”

            “No buts, _____. You’re coming with me tomorrow evening & that’s final.” He stood up, unbuttoning the cuffs on his dress jacket. His eyes finally met yours. The look there felt like someone was pouring a bucket of Icelandic water over you. It was a look you knew well, one you hadn’t seen in a couple months. He knew. Your father knew.

            “Okay, Daddy.” You mumbled as you felt your lips begin to shake.

            “Now, go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

            Nodding once, you walked fast to your room, your head hung low.

            In your room, you were quick to disappear into the bathroom, flicking the light on. Tears were already falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The novelty of the dress, of coming here with you father, of being the perfect daughter, had quickly rotted away.

            You glared at yourself in the mirror, the ink from your eyeliner & mascara leaving smudged black trails along your cheeks. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Tomorrow, you would wake up & everything would be as it was. Your father would say your name with pride, he would be proud to call you his daughter. But no. You saw it coming & there was no stopping it.

            Your father would see you exactly as you were. The Cameron’s would make sure of it.

drumroll please!!! the finale of I Burn is next. & it will be the end of another era. it's indeed a bittersweet feeling but i'm excited to begin writing The Taming featuring Clark Kent.

also, how was the dance scene? i really wanted to incorporate lyrics from the song to match their conversation but do it subtly. comments?

as always, please share your thoughts w me! i'm so so curious to hear your thoughts with the end near. please share w me via comments, reblogging w reviews, or dropping as ask.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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[justinspoliticalcorner]

George Chidi at The Guardian:

Donald Trump billed the government for Secret Service accommodations at his hotels many times over what other guests were charged, particularly foreign dignitaries, according to a report released Friday from Democratic members of the House oversight committee.

Describing the former US president’s term in office as “the world’s greatest get-rich-quick scheme”, the report’s authors referred to documents obtained by subpoenas of the Mazars firm, Trump’s accountants, citing guest logs for Trump International hotel in Washington, DC, between September 2017 and August 2018. The hotel “charged as much as 300% or more above the authorized government per diem”, for Secret Service hotel rooms, according to the report. It added: “Not only did former President Trump’s D.C. hotel routinely charge the Secret Service more than the government rate, it frequently charged the Secret Service more than it did other patrons, including members of a foreign royal family and a Chinese business interest.”

Eric Trump has said previously that the Trump organization let Secret Service agents “stay at our properties for free”. But the report calls that assertion into question, noting that the agency was charged “far in excess of approved government per diem rates and even many times the rates charged to hundreds of other patrons—including some of the rooms rented by the Qatari royal family and Chinese business interests—for rooms used by agents protecting members of the Trump family.” The report follows up investigative reports made when Democrats controlled the House oversight committee. When Republicans took the House majority in 2023, new committee chairman James Comer ended the committee’s lawsuits to obtain records and refused to issue new subpoenas. The report by the committee’s Democratic minority relies on documents obtained earlier.

A 156-page report on Trump’s business dealings by House Democrats released in January noted that four businesses owned by Trump’s family conglomerate received at least $7.8m in payments in total from 20 countries during his four years in the White House. While Trump was in office, Republicans made regular use of Trump International hotel while visiting Washington. Democrats on the committee cited three people Trump appointed to the federal bench, eight ambassadors, five people who later obtained presidential pardons like Dinesh D’Souza and Ken Kurson, and numerous other state and federal officials who stayed there on official travel.

[...] Trump sold the lease on the 263-room hotel, known as the Old Post Office building, in 2022 to a Florida-based investment group, CGI Merchant Group. Since the hotel reopened as a hotel in the Waldorf Astoria chain in June 2023, spending by Republican groups there has��cratered, according to a report by Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington, an oversight group that sued Trump over emoluments issues.

Democratic members of the House Oversight Committee released a report that Donald Trump massively overcharged Secret Service agents for accommodations at his hotels, far more than other patrons.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

DONALD TRUMP'S POLITICAL ACT OF HARA-KIRI

TCinLA

Oct 28, 2024

“Never interfere with an enemy who is defeating himself.” – Napoleon

In February 1939, 100,000 people ringed Madison Square Garden, desiring only to get inside and beat the holy living shit out of the 22,000 American Nazis attending the “Pro American Rally” held inside by the German-American Bund.

In October 2024, the line of MAGAts lining 33rd Street outside Madison Square Garden in hopes of getting inside to participate in Dear Leader’s final hatealong of the 2024 presidential campaign melted away in minutes when they were told by the police at 3:30 pm that the Garden was full. There weren’t 100,000 wanting to see them end up as shitstains on the sidewalks. They were as they have always been, objects of scorn and laughter.

Trump didn’t even match Fritz Kuhn’s numbers from 1939 for his all-important audience size.

MAGA has always been most impressive in the complete lack of self-awareness on the part of the MAGAts. And that moron stupidity has always been most particularly on display among the lifetime losers who declare themselves geniuses and rise to leadership positions in this clown show.

The truth is, these people are not only crazed morons, they are all comic lightweights, idiots who proclaim themselves geniuses, just like Dear Leader. They aren’t even up there with the actors singing “Springtime For Hitler” in The Producers. They would have failed the call to be hired, since Mel Brooks required those he chose to have talent.

Dr. Phil McGraw - once Oprah’s darling who became America’s Shrink despite not actually being a licensed therapist, until he finally got busted for all the sexual hijinks associated with the show and all the lawsuits over the results of his bad advice and his COVID denialism - did his own Trump satire, droning on and on about how Dear Leader was not in fact a bully.

Rudy Giuliani - wearing what is likely the only suit he has left- shouted about how Vice President Harris was “in with the terrorists.”

MAGAMike Johnson, Keebler Speaker of the House of Representatives - who made his reputation as the guy who sued to get the House not to recognize the result of the 2020 election - chattered about the Republican respect for the rule of law.

Self-hating Jewish reincarnation of Holocaust author Reinhard Heydrich Steven Miller rewrote the words he spoke 81 years ago at the Wannsee Conference in his previous life, changing from “Germany is for Germans” to “America is for Americans,” demonstrating once again that he should have been locked in a seabag and thrown off the Santa Monica Pier in the middle of a winter storm back when he was merely the School Pissant at Santa Monica High 20 years ago.

Elmo Muck showed up to decry “illegal immigrants” on the same day the Washington Post brought the receipts to show that he was an “illegal immigrant” while creating the first of his companies. The lies he undoubtedly wrote down when he filled out the forms to get the Top Secret clearance he has constitute a felony that could result not only in the loss of his security clearance but the revocation of his right to be in the United States. No wonder he campaigns for the only candidate who would pardon him.

In 1939, Fritz Kuhn went on about President “Rosenfelt” and Governor Thomas “Jewey,” to thunderous applause. In 2024, some guy named Rosenfeld clearly demonstrated that Kuhn’s slur that all Jews were geniuses was false when he went on about Hillary Clinton, who hasn’t been a candidate for anything for eight years.

Alleged comedian Tony Hinchcliffe went looking for the Kuhn audience, joking about an island of garbage floating in the ocean called Puerto Rico, to gales of laughter from the mouthbreathing audience. The result of that was the endorsement of Kamala Harris by Puerto Rican superstars Bad Bunny, Jlo, and Ricky Martin, energizing the 6 million Puerto Ricans living in the US - most particularly in the battleground states and including the 600,000 who live in the five New York congressional districts that need to be flipped from R to D to end the fuckwittery of MAGA in the House of Representatives.

Hinchcliffe showed he had gained the instant clueless infamy that makes him a self-owning MAGA superstar when he complained that Tim Walz “didn’t get the joke.”

By the time Dear Leader took the stage two hours late, the 22,000 wannabe sieg heilers who got in had dropped to about 16,000 true believers who remained to listen to his regurgitation of his greatest hits, the high point of which was his promise to put RFK Jr in charge of “the health,” and “the drugs” and “the food.”

What the walking proof that you can indeed stack bullshit 6 feet 4 inches high without it toppling over wanted from his rally was a shoutout to Fritz Kuhn as he went Full Fascist. What he got was a radio talk show where Daddy Joe is worried that Sonny Boy is going to come home from school turned into Daughter Dearest by the dastardly public school teachers.

The shedding of crocodile tears by those Republicans who have spent the last eight years bending their knee to Trump, claiming in the aftermath of his shitshow that this time he really had gone too far in attacking the voters they now realize they need to win, was rich.

Sorry, you worthless assholes. You. Own. This. All of it. Every last word from every last tenth-rate moron stupid enough to believe Donald Trump is anything but a candidate to be found dangling by his ankles from a gas station sign.

Yesterday, “the dumbest fucking student who ever walked into my classroom” managed to engineer what will be seen forever by political historians as the coup de grâce to the possibility of his ever being president again. What was happened at Madison Square Garden on October 27, 2024 was an act of political hara-kiri. Rather than confirm the loyalty of his voters to him and their commitment to vote, he energized millions more to vote against him. Even Rick Scott was smart enough to see that.

Trump managed to provide in his final message of the campaign the best case for why he must be defeated. As Charles Pierce observed of the event, “At the end of the day, all that was proven was that these people can’t even be fascists with any kind of dignity.”

Donald Trump is a drooling moron. In fact he’s the most ignorant moron to ever strut onstage in American history.

Last night proved that.

TCinLa

[try-set-me-on-fire]

@lover-of-mine tagged me for seven sentence Sunday! I had an idea for the reunion hug prompt (Buck and Chris’ first hug after the lawsuit), so here’s the start of that!

They’re in the locker room, shift over by a good ten minutes, when Eddie puts a hand on his arm. Buck, carefully, doesn’t startle or say this is the second time you’ve touched me in three months out loud.

“You wanna come over,” Eddie says, theoretically a question but presented more like a statement, and Buck should probably feel more annoyed at that except for the fact that there’s a less than zero chance he’d ever say no.

“Yeah,” he says, unnecessarily. “Sure. You want me to grab food?”

So, 40 minutes later, he’s in front of the Diaz house holding a few greasy boxes and worrying that somehow everyone’s taste in pizza has changed since the last time they did this. Eddie’s taste, probably, at nearly years old, has settled such that the most garlic-y option Buck can find is still a safe bet, but Chris is just a kid, getting bigger every day, changing all the time. Three months is an age to an eight year old, maybe pepperoni is disgusting now, embarrassing, food for babies.

So. Buck is standing on the porch, holding the boxes, biting his tongue not to cry wondering what all he might have missed when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

I’m sure most people have posted already today but if you haven’t @bigfootsmom @rewritetheending @malewifediaz @shitouttabuck @shortsighted-owl @homerforsure @eddiebabygirldiaz

[thoughtportal]

Over the course of years in the 1970s, several boys between the ages of eight and fourteen in St. Martinville, Louisiana, were repeatedly sexually assaulted by their parish priest, suffering serious physical and emotional trauma. Like most child sexual abuse survivors, they did not disclose the abuse until they were in their fifties and sixties. Recognizing the developmental and emotional difficulties preventing survivors from disclosing childhood abuse, in 2021, the Louisiana legislature unanimously passed the Louisiana Child Victims Act, which provided a three-year “look-back window” allowing survivors to file lawsuits that would otherwise be barred by the statute of limitations. The law, versions of which have been passed in about half of states, finally allowed the St. Martinville survivors to sue the church and diocese that harbored their abuser.

Enter the Louisiana Supreme Court. In an opinion written by Justice James Genovese and published on March 22, the court found an absolute property right in the institutions’ right not to be sued. The Louisiana Child Victims Act, wrote Genovese, “cannot be retroactively applied to revive plaintiffs’ prescribed causes of action,” since that would “divest defendants of their vested right to plead prescription”—to defend themselves by asserting that the statute of limitations had run. The decision essentially strikes down the look-back window, leaving survivors once again powerless to hold their abusers accountable. It is a harrowing example of the legal system’s ability to obscure the nature of disputes and turn survivors’ real-life trauma into euphemistic abstractions, while at the same time protecting powerful institutions in the name of otherwise ephemeral property rights.

[mariacallous]

About three years ago, some of Google’s security engineers came to company attorneys with a gigantic mess.

The security team had discovered that Google unwittingly was enabling the spread of malicious software known as Glupteba. The malware had corrupted more than 1 million Windows computers, turning them into vehicles to mine cryptocurrency and spy on users. By hijacking Google accounts, purchasing Google ads to lure in users, and misusing Google cloud tools, the hackers behind the operation were on their way to infecting even more computers.

Tech giants such as Google long have had a playbook for destroying botnets like Glupteba. They call up fellow companies and US authorities and together coordinate a massive takedown operation. Sometimes, the cops file criminal charges. But this time around, Google’s legal team recommended an approach that the company hadn’t pursued in years: Sue the hackers for money.

The eventual lawsuit against two Russian men and a dozen unnamed individuals allegedly behind Glupteba would be the first of a run of at least eight cases that Google has filed against various hackers and scammers, adding to a sporadic few filings in the past. The tactic, which Google calls affirmative litigation, is meant to scare off would-be fraudsters and generate public awareness about scams. Now, for the first time, Google is opening up about this strategy.

Leaders of Google’s security and legal teams tell WIRED they believe going after people in court has paid off. Google hasn’t yet lost a case; it has collected almost all of the more than $2 million that it has won through the legal process, and forced hundreds of companies or websites to shut down. The awards are trivial to Google and its parent Alphabet, a $2 trillion company, but can be devastating for the defendants.

“We’re disrupting bad actors and deterring future activity, because it’s clear that the consequences and the costs are high,” says Chester Day, lead of the three-person “litigation advance” team at Google that’s focused on taking people to court. Google, he adds, is “making it clear that we’re willing to invest our resources into taking action to protect our users.”

Google blog posts and similar content about the lawsuits and the underlying scams have drawn more than 1 billion views, according to the company. Google representatives say that the awareness increases vigilance among consumers and shrinks the pool of vulnerable targets. “Educating people about how these crimes work may be the best thing we can do to stop the crime,” says Harold Chun, director of Google’s security legal team.

Several Big Tech companies have pursued affirmative litigation, though not necessarily under that name and with varying strategies. Microsoft has filed more than two dozen lawsuits since 2008 with a focus on securing court permission to dismantle botnets and other hacking tools. Amazon has been a prolific complainant since 2018, filing at least 42 cases over counterfeit products, 38 for reviews fraud, three for copyright abuse, and, recently, two for bogus product returns. Amazon has been filing so many counterfeit cases, in fact, that the federal court in western Washington assigned three magistrate judges to focus on them.

Since 2019, Meta has filed at least seven counterfeiting or data theft cases, with settlements or default judgments in four so far, including one in which it won nearly $300,000 in damages. Like Meta, Apple has sued Israeli spyware developer NSO Group for alleged hacking. (NSO is fighting the lawsuits. Trials are scheduled for next year.)

Some attorneys who’ve studied how the private sector uses litigation to enforce the law are skeptical about the payoff for the plaintiffs. David Noll, a Rutgers University law professor and author of a forthcoming book on state-supported private enforcement, Vigilante Nation, says it’s difficult to imagine that companies could bring the volume of cases needed to significantly stop abuse. “The fact that there is a small chance you might be named in a suit isn’t really going to deter you,” he says.

Noll believes the big risk is that Google and other tech companies could be burdening the court system with cases that ultimately secure some favorable headlines but do less to make the internet safer than the companies could achieve through investing in better antifraud measures.

Still, of the six outside legal experts who spoke to WIRED, all of them say that overall Google deserves credit for complementing the work of underfunded government agencies that are struggling to rein in online abuse. At an estimated hundreds of thousands of dollars per case, it’s a low-risk endeavor for the tech giant, former prosecutors say.

“Reliable and regular enforcement when folks step outside the law brings us closer to a society where less of us are harmed,” says Kathleen Morris, resident scholar of law at UC Berkeley’s Institute of Governmental Studies. “This is healthy and robust collaboration on law enforcement by the public and private sectors.”

Google’s general counsel, Halimah DeLaine Prado, tells WIRED she wants to send a message to other companies that the corporate legal department can do more than be the team that says “no” to wild ideas. “Legal can be a proactive protector,” she says.

Marketing Scams

DeLaine Prado says that from its earliest days, Google has considered pursuing litigation against people abusing its platforms and intellectual property. But the first case she and other leaders within Google recall filing was in 2015. Google accused Local Lighthouse, a California marketing company, of placing robocalls to dupe small businesses into paying to improve their ranking in search results. Google alleged trademark infringement, unfair competition, and false advertising. As part of a settlement, Lighthouse stopped the problematic calls.

Since then, Google has filed complaints against five similar allegedly scammy marketers, with three of them ending in settlements so far. A Florida business and its owners agreed to pay Google $850,000, and a Los Angeles man who allegedly posted 14,000 fake reviews on Google Maps agreed to stop. Terms of the third deal, with an Illinois company, were not disclosed in court files, but Google spokesperson José Castañeda says it involved a seven-figure payment to Google.

Castañeda says Google has donated all the money it has collected to recipients such as the Better Business Bureau Institute, the National Consumers League, Partnership to End Addiction, Cybercrime Support Network, and various US chambers of commerce.

Another genre of cases has targeted individuals submitting false copyright complaints to Google to get content removed from the company’s services. A man in Omaha, Nebraska, whom Google accused of falsely claiming ownership of YouTube videos to extort money from their real owners, agreed to pay $25,000 to Google. Two individuals in Vietnam sued by Google never responded—a common issue.

In 2022, Google won default judgment against an individual in Cameroon who never responded to charges that he was using Gmail to scam people into paying for fake puppies, including a $700 basset hound. After the lawsuit, complaints about the scammer dried up, according to Google.

But legal experts say the most fascinating cases of Google’s affirmative litigation are four that it filed against alleged computer hackers. The suits emerged after months of investigation into Glupteba.

Security engineers at Google realized that eradicating Glupteba through the typical approach of taking down associated servers would be difficult. The hackers behind it had designed a backup system involving a blockchain that enabled Glupteba to resurrect itself and keep pilfering away.

That’s in part why Google’s attorneys suggested suing. Chun, the security legal director, had pursued cases against botnets as a federal prosecutor. “I thought this would be something good to do from a civil angle for a company as well,” he says. “Law enforcement agencies have limits on what they can do. And Google has a large voice and the litigation capacity.”

Chun and other attorneys cautioned their bosses that the hackers might use the lawsuit to reverse engineer Google’s investigation methods and make Glupteba more evasive and resilient. But ultimately, DeLaine Prado, who has final say over lawsuits, signed off. Chun says his former colleagues from the government applauded the complaint.

Google sued Dmitry Starovikov and Alexander Filippov, alleging that they were the Russia-based masterminds behind Glupteba after linking websites associated with the virus to Google accounts in their name. The search giant accused the duo (and unknown co-conspirators) of violating the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO), the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, and the Electronic Communications Privacy Act. The lawsuit also alleged a trademark law violation for hiding Glupteba in a tool that claimed to download videos from YouTube.

Google argued that it had suffered substantial harm, having never received payment for ads it had sold to the hackers, who allegedly were using fraudulent credit cards. Users also had their experiences with Google services degraded, putting them at risk and impairing the value of the company’s brand, according to the lawsuit.

In court papers, Starovikov and Filippov stated they learned of the lawsuit only through friends and then decided to hire a New York attorney, Igor Litvak, to fight on their behalf. The defendants initially offered innocent explanations for their software related to Glupteba and said that their projects had not targeted the US market. At one point, they countersued Google for $10 million, and at another, they allegedly demanded $1 million each to hand over the keys to shut down the botnet. They eventually denied the allegations against them.

Following an ordeal over whether the defendants could obtain Russian passports, sit for depositions in Europe, and turn over work files, Google’s attorneys and Litvak traded accusations of lying. In 2022, US district judge Denise Cote sided with Google. She found in a 48-page ruling that the defendants “intentionally withheld information” and “misrepresented their willingness and ability” to disclose it to “avoid liability and further profit” from Glupteba. “The record here is sufficient to find a willful attempt to defraud the Court,” Cote wrote.

Cote sanctioned Litvak, and he agreed to pay Google $250,000 in total through 2027 to settle. The jurist also ordered Starovikov and Filippov to pay nearly $526,000 combined to cover Google’s attorneys fees. Castañeda says Google has received payment from all three.

Litvak tells WIRED that he still disagrees with the judge's findings and that Russia’s strained relationship with the US may have weighed on whom the judge trusted. “It’s telling that after I filed a motion to reconsider, pointing out serious issues with the court’s decision, the court went back on its original decision and referred [the] case to mediation, which ended with … me not having to admit to doing anything wrong,” he says in an email.

Google’s Castañeda says the case achieved the intended effect: The Russian hackers stopped misusing Google services and shut down their marketplace for stolen logins, while the number of Glupteba-infected computers fell 78 percent.

Not every case delivers measurable results. Defendants in Google’s other three hacking cases haven’t responded to the accusations. That led to Google last year winning default judgment against three individuals in Pakistan accused of infecting more than 672,000 computers by masquerading malware as downloads of Google’s Chrome browser. Unopposed victories are also expected in the remaining cases, including one in which overseas app developers allegedly stole money through bogus investment apps and are being sued for violating YouTube Community Guidelines.

Royal Hansen, Google’s vice president for privacy, safety, and security engineering, says lawsuits that don’t result in defendants paying up or agreeing to stop the alleged misuse still can make alleged perpetrators’ lives more difficult. Google uses the rulings as evidence to persuade businesses such as banks and cloud providers to cut off the defendants. Other hackers might not want to work with them knowing they have been outed. Defendants also could be more cautious about crossing international borders and becoming newly subject to scrutiny from local authorities. “That’s a win as well,” Hansen says.

More to Come

These days, Google’s small litigation advance team meets about twice a week with other units across the company to discuss potential lawsuits. They weigh whether a case could set a helpful precedent to give extra teeth to Google’s policies or draw awareness to an emerging threat.

Team leader Day says that as Google has honed its process, filing cases has become more affordable. That should lead to more lawsuits each year, including some for the first time potentially filed outside the US or representing specific users who have been harmed, he says.

The tech giants' ever-sprawling empires leave no shortage of novel cases to pursue. Google’s sibling company Waymo recently adopted the affirmative litigation approach and sued two people who allegedly smashed and slashed its self-driving taxis. Microsoft, meanwhile, is weighing cases against people using generative AI technology for malicious or fraudulent purposes, says Steven Masada, assistant general counsel of the company’s Digital Crimes Unit.

The questions remain whether the increasing cadence of litigation has left cybercriminals any bit deterred and whether a broader range of internet companies will go on the legal offense.

Erin Bernstein, who runs the California office of Bradley Bernstein Sands, a law firm that helps governments pursue civil lawsuits, says she recently pitched a handful of companies across industries on doing their own affirmative litigation. Though none have accepted her offer, she’s optimistic. “It will be a growing area,” Bernstein says.

But Google’s DeLaine Prado hopes affirmative litigation eventually slows. “In a perfect world, this work would disappear over time if it’s successful,” she says. “I actually want to make sure that our success kind of makes us almost obsolete, at least as it relates to this type of work.”

[citruscitrushope]

Hiiiii. I saw your responses on another users asks about Lalaloopsy lore and would LOVE to talk Lalaloopsies with you. Please info dump to me 🙏

I want to hear it all (if that’s okay with you obvi)

On it! Under a cut cuz it's so long

So Lalaloopsy was originally created in about 2009 as Bitty Buttons, but the same had some copyright disputes so it was changed about about 12 dolls? The original 8 and the four succeeding them have very rare versions with this packaging.

Dolls were released in waves of about eight every season or so, outside of limited editions and such.

Initially, the canon was limited to the descriptions on the backs of the boxes, some books, and a few web and DS games, before the first animated universe came about, consisting of web shorts and a movie.

Eventually Nick Jr. picked up the franchise for six more movies, more shorts, and a two season TV series. Like all of the VAs for the franchise were nobodies except in the Lalaloopsy Girls movie for some reason.

Then the Nick show caused a lawsuit since the company behind Lalaloopsy (MGA) didn't pay as much for it as they said it would, which I assume didn't help with the steady decline of the brand (cheaper dolls, less creative ideas, etc), before Netflix picked it up for a show.

The Netflix show sorta bombed, they only made five dolls and some minis and I don't think anyone really cared outside of existing fans, a lot of which were turned off by the more realistic direction taken for the dolls and changes to the story, with fan favorite characters being omitted such as Peanut and Cloud E.

Lalaloopsy sort of died after the Netflix show until the 10th anniversary re-released in 2021ish, old and new dolls just like the old ones coming out and old songs and movies getting YouTube uploads. Nothing's really happened since but hey.

Fun facts: the series was racist a lot, I think they've been getting better but c'mon, Mittens, Mango, Sahara, Yuki, Feather, the fact that Dot was the darkest character and got like no merchandise, the whitewashing of Cinder, I think they've been rectifying some of these things lately thankfully.

They've tried to ride the coattails of mlp (ponies) and monster and ever after high (girls) to eh results

The Babies Diaper and Potty Surprise dolls probably foreshadowed the oddly scatalogical direction MGA has taken in recent years

Like everyone is neurodivergent coded in the Netflix series

People thought Suzette La Sweet and Crumpet Hearts were getting married in the Sew Royal Tea Party bundle

I think Rosy's design had to get changed because of violating Red Cross guidelines at some point

For some reason Bundles is shown with a pacifier a lot even though she's never come with one outside of a mini, same with Rosy's hat and Misty's gloves

(My dad used to put my dolls up in trees and it made me sad, that's neither fun nor a fact but)

[follow-up-news]

A pregnant woman in Kentucky who filed a lawsuit demanding the right to an abortion has learned her embryo no longer has cardiac activity, her attorneys said Tuesday. The plaintiff’s attorneys signaled their intent to continue the challenge to Kentucky’s near-total abortion ban, but did not immediately comment on what effect the development would have on the lawsuit. The complaint was filed last week in a state court in Louisville. The plaintiff, identified only as Jane Doe, was seeking class-action status to include other Kentuckians who are or will become pregnant and want to have an abortion. The suit filed last week said she was about eight weeks pregnant. The flurry of individual women petitioning a court for permission for an abortion is the latest development since Roe v. Wade was overturned last year. The Kentucky case is similar to a legal battle taking place in Texas, where Kate Cox, a pregnant woman with a likely fatal condition, launched an unprecedented challenge against one of the most restrictive abortion bans in the U.S. But unlike the Texas case, little is known about the Kentucky plaintiff. Her attorneys have insisted they would fiercely protect their client’s privacy, stressing that Jane Doe believes “everyone should have the right to make decisions privately and make decisions for their own families,” Amber Duke, executive director for the ACLU of Kentucky, said last week. Her legal team also declined to disclose whether Jane Doe still needed an abortion. Instead, Jane Doe’s attorneys urged other women who are pregnant and seeking an abortion in the Bluegrass State to reach out if they are interested in joining the case. The lawsuit says Kentucky’s near-total abortion ban violates the plaintiff’s rights to privacy and self-determination under the state constitution.

[candied-boys]

Long Hot Summer

Luke Randolph x fem! Reader

Part one of two

Themes: small town country life, cowboys & ranching, childhood friends to lovers, separation and reunion, modern AU

Warnings: Implied underage sex (but sixteen seems fair to me because country life). Mentions of neglect and abuse, poverty. This story follows the themes of Luke's route. If you haven't read it this could spoil it and or be very upsetting.

He was a problem child.

Your parents warned you to stay away from him and his family when they moved into the little pink house next door, but in a town as small as yours, a new kid was a rare sight no six-year-old could resist.

Kicking your boots off on the back porch of the antebellum mansion you follow the familiar aroma of a hearty breakfast through the screen door. Just like every morning on the ranch, you're greeted with plates upon plates of home-smoked bacon, buttermilk biscuits, sausages with gravy, grits, steak, and eggs done six ways to Sunday.

The master chef behind the fabulous spread stands in the grand kitchen humming to himself dressed in his perfectly starched and ironed pink gingham apron.

“Mornin’ Yves,” you chirp and he turns to welcome you with a big hug. “Y’ miss me?”

“Did I ever! I oughta try leavin’ you alone for a week to fodder and clean up after seven cowboys! Well, eight now. Lawdy, I had one hell of a time, I'll tell you! Good to have you back, buttercup.”

“Whaddya mean eight? Last I counted there were only seven of y'all,” you query in confusion as you fasten your apron strings.

“Well! You'll never believe what that ol’ muleskinner brought home while you were out of town!!” the blond cook exclaims, one arm akimbo and the other waving a wooden spoon at you.

You raise a brow. “The only thing that snake eyed lawyer brings home is paperwork and lawsuits.”

Switching to flipping two rows of hotcakes across the length of the griddle Yves scoffs, “Oh, this ain't no libel. Not this time. Aw naw. This time he's done gone and found another one of us! Like seven weren't enough!”

“You're not serious?” you counter incredulously.

“Believe me, honey, good as money in the bank; if he ain't that old cow rustler’s son, none of us are. He's the spittin’ image of him when he was our age — strappin’ redhead and tall as all get out, he is."

You never did meet the tycoon who inherited the Rholodite Ranch. By the time you had started working at the ranch after high school he was already in a care facility. But the one thing you do know is that he — for lack of a better phase — had a way with women. More wives than you care to count and a few too many mistresses. It shouldn't be a surprise that there's another offspring, but still. Eight.

You shake your head in wonder. “Why'd nobody know about him all this time?”

“Well, you know Sareil’s been tryin’a settle the estate since the ol’ man kicked the bucket? Turns out that the will was changed at the last minute to include a potential unnamed eighth recipient. All that was written was the first name of the mother, so Sariel's been on a wild goose chase ever since.”

“And now he's found the kid?”

“He did. And sure ‘nuff it's another brother. Would you believe it? Eight of us. What I'd give to have just one sister like you, peaches.”

“Awww. You're sweet, Yves.”

“Not as sweet as you. Now run along and set the table for me, will you?” he insists and loads up your arms with as many plates as you dare to carry.

While you busy yourself arranging heaping platters of hot vittles all around the boys start filing in. Chattering on or proceeding in silence, they each greet you in their own way as they take up their usual seats. By the time you're on your third round laying out dishes most of them are seated and you've started pouring coffee.

“There she is!” a boisterous voice rings from beside you as your shoulders are wrapped in a one arm hug by the oldest. “We sure missed you, doll. Grub just don't taste the same without your purdy face ‘round.”

“It's good to be home,” you smile as he kisses your cheek.

“Oh, Luke, got somebody for you to meet,” he calls behind you over his shoulder.

You flinch at the name — a million memories passing through you as swiftly as a breeze in the boughs of a willow tree — but just as quick you fix your smile and turn around to greet the stranger.

It's been five long years, yet you remember that gentle, verdant gaze like it was yesterday.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

He was a problem child.

Your parents warned you to stay away from him and his family when they moved into the little pink house next door, but in a town as small as yours, a new kid was a rare sight no six-year-old could resist.

Wary, and unsociable, the redheaded boy was skinny and unkempt. Try as you might, you couldn't wring a word out of him while you waited side by side for the bus in the mornings.

Still, for some reason you never quite figured out, you were always catching yourself looking at him. Checking over your shoulder on the bus to see which seat he took, side glancing in class to check if he was paying attention, peeking out your bedroom window to watch him poking around in his backyard.

It didn't take more than a week to realize he never brought a lunch to school. You didn't have the vocabulary to put a name to the abuse at your age, but you could sense it. Between his neglected appearance, silent and solitary behaviour, and how boney he looked under those baggy clothes, you just knew something wasn't right.

While your mama was busy getting ready for work after breakfast, you started sneaking into the kitchen to fill another brown bag with whatever you could and shove it in your backpack before she caught you. Yet the boy was no friendlier for your unsolicited offering.

Stubborn as a mule, you weren't discouraged. At some point, something changed, though you can't remember what anymore, and by second grade you were best friends. You spent your afternoons playing with him and his baby sister in your backyard, building sandcastles and pushing her on the baby swings in your playset.

Years passed like this. The next distinct memory you can recall is from when you were both finally old enough to go to the county fair together without your parents. You must have been about ten or eleven because you remember Leyla wasn't in school yet.

You pet the baby goats and ponies and ducks and sheep and looked up at the llamas in awe as if they were giraffes. If it weren't for him hauling you off and promising to make you a better bear, you would've got roped into those lousy carnival games and lost all your pocket money. Instead you spent it all on the kiddy rides watching Leyla squeak in delight and strawberry candy apples that were as red as his hair.

There was so much laughter then. Comparing whose tongue was the brightest colour, gleefully watching the kids entertainment shows where dogs and pigs to tricks, beaming in amazement at the wonders the face painters could do with so few colours.

Those were the best days — when you could spend all day in and after school together. High school was different. Kids get vicious. By thirteen the others had figured out why he looked so different. They called him a bastard, said his mother was a whore, and took turns mocking his oversized clothes and lanky physique. He didn't give a lick, but they got him good when they started talking shit about his little sister. It didn't take long before he got expelled for knocking out a few teeth.

After that, he was working all the time. If it wasn't full-time he'd be working two jobs. He grew a lot taller for finally being able to buy his own food, filled out a lot too for eating well and stocking shelves all day.

You missed hanging out at school, but he seemed happy. He often told you how he loved spoiling Leyla with goodies he could now afford, or how much she loved his cooking with all the new ingredients he could buy. Once he confessed he had started putting away what he could for her to go to college. He figured with more than ten years to save he'd make it work.

His first goal though was to get a better job and for that he needed a truck.

It was the year you both turned sixteen. A hot day in mid August. The crunch of gravel in the driveway wasn't the familiar roll of the sedan. You knew without looking through the window what it meant and rushed out, letting the screen door bang shut in your wake.

“Luke! You got it! You finally got it!!”

“Sure did. ‘94 Dodge Ram half-ton with a V8 engine. Older than both y’ or me, but she still runs good,” he tells you with pride as he hops down out of the driver's seat. “Wanna take ‘er for a spin?”

“Can I drive it?” you ask, eyes alight and pleading up into his verdant gaze at least a foot above.

He chuckles with that soft smile he only shows you and his best girl.

“When we get out on the backroads I'll teach y’ to drive stick. This ain't y’r mom's station wagon, sugar,” he teases and easily picks you up by the waist to put you in the cab before he climbs in after you.

Riding shotgun you watch as he shifts into reverse and backs out of your driveway. The way he throws one arm across the headrest to look over his shoulder is candid, unposed, and yet…

The concentration in his face, no longer as round and boyish as it was even last year…

The sharp angle of his jaw where it meets his shaggy, rust-red locks…

The line of carved marble guiding your eyes down to the neck of his faded t-shirt…

Each one has your heart beating in your throat, but you're a second too late to avoid getting caught staring when you glance at the dashboard. As he pulls out onto the road, you glimpse his lazy smile tugging a little wider from of the corner of your eye and hunt for anything else to pay attention to.

Turning the dial on the stereo and popping in the cassette you relax into the seat as he drives out of town, but by the third song in your heart is racing again.

“Is this the mix tape I made you a couple years ago?” you ask during the silence when the tape needs flipping.

One arm out the window he hums, “Mmhmm,” in his slow drawl. “There’s more in the glovebox if y’ wanna listen to sommin’ else.”

As fast as the breeze whipping through the rolled down windows, you crack the box to discover every tape you ever gave him over the last ten years and nothing else. Closing the compartment and gazing out over the corn fields coming into view you hide the smile stealing across your lips.

Half an hour later you're in the driver's seat, hip to hip with him where he keeps one hand around your waist and the other on the shift stick so he can handle switching gears until you get used to the clutch.

“Gettin’ purdy good, sugar. Think y’ can do it by y’rself now?”

You shake your head, wanting to keep him close just a little longer. But Luke's a tease, and next thing you know he's dropped his grip on the drive shaft and refuses to take it back even as you squeal in panic.

“C’mon. Y’ can do it. Just keep one hand on the wheel and the other on the knob,” he coaxes next to your ear in that ever-calm tone.

When you’re forced to reach out and change gears at a crossroads you find his hand over your own as you make the switch down two speeds until you stop, then back up with each press of the clutch. Even at full throttle his hand doesn't leave yours.

The sky has donned her gold and vermillion chiffon by the time Luke takes the wheel again, but just as quickly she's doffed her gilt embellishments in favour of shimmering silver stars.

The silence of the stereo is soon interrupted by the rush of a river when he pulls up at the end of a dirt road and shuts off the engine. Darkness thickens as the headlights fade until the moonless sky is cut in half by an ephemeral streak of glitter.

“Luke! Did you see it?! There was a shootin’ star!” you chirp and eagerly hop out of the truck for a better view.

He jumps out too, but doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm. After spotting another and still getting no reply, you go around back of the tailgate and find him busy laying out sleeping bags atop a roll of foam in the bed of the pickup.

“This is just the beginnin’. There's a meteor shower tonight.”

You can hear the gentle smile in his voice better than your unadjusted eyes can see it, and you can't resist the way its warmth draws you in. Climbing up and kicking off your shoes, you flop down on the makeshift bed with a giggle.

Before he has a chance to do the same you snatch his sleeping bag and unzip it all the way, then do the same with yours and zip them together.

“It'll be warmer this way…” you mumble at his quirked brow and “What'd y’ do that for?”

“Yeah, a’right,” he murmurs back and slips into the space next to you, but he keeps his distance unlike the way he kept you so close this afternoon.

Maybe the driving lessons gave you a confidence boost, or maybe you're just a little tired of waiting for him to make a move. Either way, you know you want the years of flirting, bashful glances, and this crush going nowhere to end. Tonight if you have any say in it.

“Um, hi?” he breathes when you manoeuvre his arm over your shoulder and under your head to nuzzle into him.

“You forgot pillows…”

It's a lame excuse but it's true.

Tentatively you lay a palm on his chest, and just as hesitantly his free hand covers it. You snuggle in until there's no space between your bodies. The arm around your shoulders tucks your crown under his chin. His pulse racing beneath his ribcage echoes in your ear and your sure yours is pounding just as hard.

“Maybe I shoulda just brought one sleeping bag, huh?” he makes an awkward attempt at conversation.

Hopeful and nervous you choose your words carefully. “Next time.”

He only nods. There in his warm embrace you watch the stars fall to the soundtrack of your beating hearts and the crickets singing.

“Aren't they pretty, Luke?” you whisper after a while and reach out a hand to the heavens.

“I'll catch y’ one some day if y’ want,” he whispers back and stretches out his arm to entwine his fingers oh so gently in yours.

“Put it on a ring where it can shine real bright…” he says as he finds your gaze.

His name hardly makes it past your lips for the emotion welling in your throat.

Even under the midnight sky his pale green eyes are as captivating as sparkling dew caught in meadow sunshine.

“I know they say we're just kids, but I don't think I'll ever find somebody else I could care ‘bout like this…”

His gaze is coloured with the lingering pain of sixteen years of neglect and rejection.

“Y're the only one for me…”

The truth you've known for a long time now bubbles up easily with a smile as you lean in to kiss him.

“I love you, Luke. So much.”

Soft, tender pecks quickly gave way to deeper and deeper kisses as if he longed to make up for all those love-starved years he'd suffered. Yet he was so gentle, worshipping every inch of your body, never letting his eyes stray from yours as you drowned in each other's love.

In that warm afterglow, he held your trembling form beneath him so tight you were pressed cheek to cheek. Looking up over his broad shoulders, you made a wish on a shooting star that this love would last forever.

The next day he was dead.

Part two

[arctic-hands]

Rough transcript from parts of the video (for some reason tumblr wouldn't let me post this when it was all indented for clarity):

Norman decided to strike back, using the tools that he knew best... He started with a series of TV commercials, urging people not to be so easily manipulated by charismatic religious leaders.

"So maybe there's something wrong when people, even preachers, suggest that people are either good Christians or bad Christians, depending on their political views."

Next, he produced a special called "I Love Liberty", celebrating the values he thought were most urgent to defend: equality, diversity, making sure the law protects and serves everyone, especially the most vulnerable...

...After that, Norman could see there was a lot more work to do, so using the attention from the ads and the special as a jumping off point, he founded a new organization to counter the forces of bigotry. He called it People For The American Way, and he made it his full-time focus, stepping away from the industry he helped shape, so he could devote himself to the cause...

...The timing was perfect, since Ronald Reagan had just been elected president, thanks in part to televangelists who ordered their followers to vote for him, and throughout the Eighties Republicans pushed hard to enshrine religious bigotry into law. For example, at one point Reagan nominated Robert Bork to the Supreme Court. Bork was a former Nixon sidekick who openly said that he wanted to roll back civil rights protections for minorities. In response, People For The American Way leapt into action, and they launched a campaign to oppose the nomination...

...Norman and People For The American Way mobilized across the country to contact their legislatures, and, sure enough, Congress rejected Bork's nomination, one of the few times that's happened...

...People For The American Way also led campaigns to stop groups from forcing schools to buy religious textbooks. When conservatives tried to ban library books with inclusive content, People For The American Way successfully filed lawsuits to stop them. They helped pass non-discrimination ordinances across the country, and in response to a rise of right-wing extremism, they created Right Wing Watch to expose hateful speakers, a tool that many people came to rely on...

...But for all the progress that's been made over the last few years, more recently, Norman has been seeing an alarming new trend.

"I'm not sure in my ninety-eight years I've seen another moment as worrisome as this."

In interviews today, Norman has described a level of intolerance that he hasn't seen in a long time. Now, he sees bigotry more emboldened than ever, with brazen displays of pro-Nazi sentiment. For all the times Norman says he's seen that ideology before, he has never seen it expressed so openly.

"...but I don't recall people in the streets and, uh, marching and, and showing hateful signs. You know, antisemitism, that, that worries me considerably now."

And you don't have to look hard to find conservatives targeting minorities, labeling them Enemies Of The Country, and calling for violence against them...

...But if there's any good news, it's that folks like Norman have first-hand experience dealing with times like these, and he has some ideas about how to respond. For one thing, he's revisited his most classic episodes about tackling bigotry, broadcasting them with all-new performers...

Now, obviously sitcoms alone can't single-handedly solve all the world's problems. But if there's anything that the decades of Norman's work makes clear, it's the power of laughter to help people see the world in a new way.

"Comedy can be an intravenous, you know, in one's arm. You're laughing and absorbing at the same time."

To introduce new ideas...

And to give people a vision of how to live together...

"...flying across the country at night, but I remember looking down for the first time thinking, 'Hey, it's just possible wherever I see a light, I've helped to make somebody laugh.'"

...It's had an immeasurable impact on the world: breaking down barriers that kept certain people from appearing on TV, exposing bigots for how ridiculous they truly are, and showing viewers what it looked like to confront prejudice head-on. So now he's starting his second century of making the world a better place, for everyone.

End transcript.

The video is about forty-four minutes long and that's a truncated transcript of the last ten minutes or so, but I encourage everyone to watch the full video. It is technically captioned, but with auto-captions, which aren't ideal but, lack of punctuation aside, seemed to be pretty accurate as I looked at them to type out the above

[nevereveraster]

[pulls out giant script] [clears throat] [starts dramatic background music] cry about it

Yeah... that's about the level of a low-tier self-narration and "clapback" attempt that I'd expect from an edgy 16yo "I know everything" high-schooler.

In eight or so years, when your critical thinking really begins to kick in and you emerge from this "coolgirl" hotdog-deepthroating desperate pickme girl stage, I'd very much enjoy being on a fly on the wall while witnessing your floundering backtracking amid all the then-emerging trans lawsuits.

Protip: when a quasi-religious belief movement, like trans, has an *ex-satanic-panic* instigator near the top of the hierarchy, it's maybe not the best idea to blindly chug the kool-aid as a bleating follower. Try researching your opinions, not regurgitating them.

Oh, wait-- you're so young and uninformed you likely have no idea what the satanic panic ideaology was or how scarily much it resembles the new trans ideaology.

The elevator pitch version is: one of the same main instigators of the transrights movement falsely claimed in the early 90s that members of a satanic cult were ritualistically sexually assaulting toddlers. People were witch hunted. Lives were destroyed. She scuttled off and then reemerged high in the trans movement right in the late 2000s - early 2010s. That's not alarming at all, though. Nosirree. That seems non-sus.

The dominoes are already starting to fall on the trans movement. The Cass report is just the beginning -- There is a reason that multiple European countries are already starting to roll back puberty blockers. There is a reason that trans clinics in Britain deliberately refused to keep records and follow patients postoperatively -- which, btdubs, makes the already-skeevy travistock look like a hack job clinic. If a specialty nephrology clinic refused to follow kidney transplant patients postoperatively, they'd be shut down almost immediately and investigated by a government body.

But hey, I look forward to your belated horrified realization that you blindly helped perpetuate a medical scandal unseen since lobotomies were going out of fashion. My own realization in 2021 left me in tears for weeks.

Let's hope that you'll not be one of the droves of people acting as though you never supported experimental surgeries that can leave patients with pain so severe they request euthanasia, much like the droves of people who suddenly started disavowing lobotomies after egging that fiasco on, or the droves of people who disavowed the satanic panic after egging it on. But I have my doubts.

You're cute, kid. I'm serious when I say I pity you for what's coming to your noggin. It's a hell of a realization to grapple with the fact that you enthusiastically supported people harming themselves in the name of "acceptance" and "affirmation" -- no different than if we suddenly started "accepting" and "affirming" anorexic teenage girls by giving them gastric bypass so their outsides matched their insides.

After all, I was a firm trans rights activist from 2006-2021, at which point I finally had been abused and mistreated by enough transwomen, and I had finally seen enough trans people around me have surgeries that destroyed their lives and bodies even though they smiled and pretended everything was fine, that I started asking questions.

Check out Venus Envy sometime. It was a webcomic written by a transwoman who was True Trans, no ROGD, had been claiming to be a girl since 4 or 5.

... he's been detrans for years and won't talk about it now.

Also, you may want to look at what happens with trans end-life and elder care. (It's super awkward when a trans person gets alzheimer's or dementia and then starts screaming and panicking and becoming violent because they don't know what happened to their penis and they want to hurt their caregivers for what has been done to their body.)

But sure. You sure showed me, child who has barely begun to accrue life experience. Truly, you wound me and I doth bleed.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dan Rather at Steady:

If their national convention didn’t motivate Democrats to register, volunteer, donate, and vote, perhaps the prospect of a widespread voter suppression plan at the hands of the Republican Party will. Just listen to Marc Elias, one of the foremost election lawyers in the country, who recently said that the “Republicans are building an election subversion war machine.” Last week, Elias began working with hundreds of lawyers and thousands of volunteers already teamed up with the Harris campaign to combat the Republican voter suppression effort. He will focus on recounts and post-election litigation.

This is not a new tactic for the MAGA right, but in this election cycle, “the other side is more organized, more ruthless, and more prepared [than ever before],” Elias told Rolling Stone magazine. Here’s the Republican playbook, according to The Brennan Center for Justice. “Over the last 20 years, states have put barriers in front of the ballot box — imposing strict voter ID laws, cutting voting times, restricting registration, and purging voter rolls.” But this election cycle, new MAGA tactics seem even more insidious — including delaying or refusing vote certification. So if someone in, say, Georgia doesn’t like the election results, Republican officials could question the count, seriously slowing down or stopping the process of announcing results. That’s a very big deal. The 2024 pre-election period has already seen dozens of lawsuits filed in 25 states by Republicans trying to manipulate or change laws to, among other things, make it easier to challenge ballots and voter eligibility and to deny election certifications.

In an investigation of local election boards, Rolling Stone found 70 pro-Donald Trump conspiracy theorists working as election officials in key counties in battleground states. Since 2020, Republicans have refused to certify results at least 25 times. I know I may sound like a broken record saying Donald Trump is an existential threat to American democracy. But he is, and this is a terrifying example of his cult leader-like ability to get others to do his undemocratic bidding. At an Atlanta rally, he recently called out pro-Trump members of the Georgia State Election Board as “pit bulls fighting for honesty, transparency, and victory.” Seriously. In 2020 he primed the voter suppression pump before the election, knowing he was likely to lose the race, and then promoted the “Big Lie.” Hundreds of lawyers, dozens of lawsuits, and an insurrection later, he still lost, but all those efforts laid the groundwork for a more organized Republican push, or perhaps putsch is a better word. Fortunately the Republicans aren’t the only ones gearing up for this battle. The Harris campaign has assembled the largest Democratic legal team ever to protect voting rights. It is 10 times larger than the 2020 team. Ten times.

[...] The Democrats’ voter protection program is focused on eight battleground states: Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, and four states of interest: Florida, Maine, Minnesota, and Virginia. Their pre-election efforts are two-fold: First, protecting voters’ ability to register to vote while also having unfettered access to the ballot box. They are doing this by fighting all the legal challenges Republicans are launching. Second, they are educating voters. All of this is a serious shift in how elections are run in this country. “The expansive new Democratic legal team, and the opposing group at the Republican National Committee, is a reflection of the legal arms race that is the new reality of American elections since Mr. Trump’s election victory in 2016. The battle over whose votes count — not just how many votes are counted — has become central to modern presidential campaigns,” explained Nick Corasaniti of The New York Times.

The Democrats are learning to fight the battle to ensure that the votes from this election are counted properly to ensure that a repeat of 2020 doesn’t happen.

[ardenrhodes]

ARDEN RHODES the TWENTY-EIGHT year old is known as THE REBEL within the group. they are known to be RESILLIENT and PHLEGMATIC which makes sense when you think about how SHE GOT PREGNANT BY HER MOTHER'S BOSS but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: courtney eaton

full name: arden rhodes

nickname(s): r

pronouns & gender: she/her & ciswoman

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: may 26, 1996

birth place: san francisco, california

occupation: actress, trust fund baby

family: father - thomas | mother - emma

BACKGROUND / BIO

growing up, arden has ever only known to please her parents, she was good at being exactly what they needed her to be. if they wanted the fun daughter who impressed her parent's friend's kids then she had no problem playing the part. if they wanted her to act like everything at home was fine, she was gonna pretend that there wasn't a screaming match on the way there. everything outside wasn't real to her because they only ever made it that way. it wasn't until she had a breakdown in the middle of her school speech that she couldn't hold it together anymore. she was tired of it all and it took years for her to recognize that. ever since then, her parents remind her of what a failure she was. it didn't matter that it was just one out of many that she lost control.

now, she uses that to let the world around her burn, it doesn't matter who gets in her way. not even the people she tried to please once upon a time. even though, arden cut them out of her life and isn't living with them anymore, she makes sure that they never forget she exists. she got a job at her mother's firm, just so that emma has to see her five times a week. it helps that her boss is always looking down her shirt and always hitting on her whenever they are alone. it was almost too easy to hurt the people that though she was the one that needed them.

the only person she could really count on was her grandmother, she had been there for arden when she needed her most. ruth was more than happy to let her move in and take however long she needed but it didn't end that way. after two years of staying with her grandmother, ruth died, leaving her brokenhearted once more. then when the will was read, it left everyone in shock. ruth's entire estate was given to her. if her parents didn't hate her before, they did after that day. they have thrown every insult at her. every lawsuit they could. but none of them stuck. they had no say in a letter that her grandmother wrote herself the day after she moved in. that was something arden didn't know.

to this day, she have only keep the things that belonged to her grandmother close. arden haven't open her heart to anyone since that day. what was the point? so yeah, fuck that saying, hurt people only hurt people. the world deserved it after the years of pain she had to go through.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Oh I'm such a wimp I don't even wanna think about bad things happening 🫣 But I keep coming back to touch starved, secret caretaking and cry into chest, if you want to talk about any of them?

Well secret caretaking would be kind of a fluffy one! Buck is a pretty stubborn guy when it comes to taking care of himself and asking others for help related to that, so it would be Eddie quietly doing things to make his life easier/nicer while he’s having a tough time. A lot of him being sappy while making sure his ice packs always get back in the freezer, etc.

Haven’t figured out the other two so I’ll just start typing shit out under the cut

Cry into chest…. Not sure what to do about this one…. Maybe I’ll make Eddie cry about something…. Family problems? A nightmare? Buck got hurt and he’s worried? Chris is sick and he’s worried? Or maybe nothing at all has happened but he still is just caught up in an overwhelming feeling of nonspecific worry and frustrated about it because he thought he was past this, The Breakdown ™ was so long ago at this point and like he knows making progress doesn’t mean he magically doesn’t have anxiety anymore and he can have set backs and that’s okay, but he’d been getting better at recognizing when panic like this is coming on and what might trigger it, he’s upset that this blindsided him. Yeah I like that I think I’ll turn that into something…

Touch starved might be another Eddie one. Maybe lawsuit era, maybe post shooting where Ana is there and touches him but he just wants buck, maybe breakdown era where he doesnt see buck anymore and misses him so much but doesnt know how to ask for it, maybe just a general him getting in his head about what kind of touch he’s allowed to have? Like he and Buck casually touched and hugged more in the first season or two they were in and then got a little more distant and that could be characterized as like… in the early days Buck is a friend, its fine to pal around with your friends, but then uh oh the emotions are getting really intense now and you’re not supposed to want to touch your friends this much! Danger! What would the guys on his baseball team have said? What would his dad say? In other words Eddie Diaz Fights The Forces Of Internalized Homophobia. OR I might repurpose and finish this snippet (that I think I’ve already posted before??) about Buck coming back to the Diaz house for the first time after the tsunami

They’re in the locker room, shift over by a good ten minutes, when Eddie puts a hand on his arm. Buck, carefully, doesn’t startle or say this is the second time you’ve touched me in three months out loud.

“You wanna come over,” Eddie says, theoretically a question but presented more like a statement, and Buck should probably feel more annoyed at that except for the fact that there’s a less than zero chance he’d ever say no.

“Yeah,” he says, unnecessarily. “Sure. You want me to grab food?”

So, 40 minutes later, he’s in front of the Diaz house holding a few greasy boxes and worrying that somehow everyone’s taste in pizza has changed since the last time they did this. Eddie’s taste, probably, at nearly years old, has settled such that the most garlic-y option Buck can find is still a safe bet, but Chris is just a kid, getting bigger every day, changing all the time. Three months is an age to an eight year old, maybe pepperoni is disgusting now, embarrassing, food for babies.

So. Buck is standing on the porch, holding the boxes, biting his tongue not to cry wondering what all he might have missed when Eddie pulls into the driveway in his new big truck. He bites down harder because he doesn’t know what he’s allowed anymore, if it would be okay for him to laugh and say what the fuck are you hauling around that you need this much car, Diaz.

Sorry Eddie I will never pass up the opportunity to rage on you for your poor choice of car for city driving