#someone appoint me campaign manager

[midnight-train-of-thought]

Yooo guysss

I got the BEST idea for a Biden campaign ad

Okay so, it opens in a picturesque 1950s American town square- the set of Back to the Future.

Biden skates into frame on a skateboard, and looks back behind him to where there is a commotion- Trump is kicking puppies (or babies or something) while his posse looks on and laughs.

Biden beckons to the camera conspiratorially and whispers, “Watch this.”

He slides on his aviator glasses and calls to Trump, “Hey Don! Why don’t you pick on someone your own age?!”

Trump gets red in the face, steam blows out of his ears, and he gets tunnel vision, like a bull. He yells something incoherent and probably unairable at our star, then gets into his big red MAGA pickup truck, decked out in flags, guns, and lewd (and insensitive) bumper stickers. He revs the engine and charges straight at Biden.

They have a quick chase across the town green. They’ve drawn a crowd of cheering onlookers. Soon, Trump has gained on Biden. It looks like it’s the end of the road for Joe. Trump gets ready to ram him.

But at the last possible second, Biden does a backflip handstand and leaps over the truck with the grace of a leopard. Trump and his goons gape as they look back at him…realizing too late that they were heading straight for a manure truck.

BLAM! SPLORCH! An EXPLOSION of shit!

Then Biden walks past the screen, 50s babes in each arm, with Trump spluttering and choking on shit behind him. He tilts his glasses and says, “NObody calls me Chicken.” Then bites into a Chick-fil-A sandwich.

[warabidakihime]

Rules and Roses Chapter 3

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic). 

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut. MINORS DNI.

comments are always welcome and greatly appreciated! hearing your thoughts motivates me to write more, so please leave a comment. have fun reading!

-

"Hey Akaza, good morning! Sorry to message you so early, but I need to let you know I'll be meeting with Ms. Rivera at her place today before lunch. Please have the car ready by 10:30 am. Thank you!"

Akaza, huh?

Akaza stared at your message, his eyes fixed on his phone screen, but his mind wandered. Minutes passed as thoughts raced through his head. Finally, with a deep sigh, he shook off his distractions, put down his phone, and began getting ready for the day.

One thing about you: you hated delays, whether caused by you or someone else.

There was a time when Akaza accidentally overslept, and you had an early doctor's appointment. Because he was late, you drove yourself and got annoyed at him for messing up your schedule. Eventually, you calmed down and reminded him that time is something you don’t like wasting.

Since then, Akaza has never missed an alarm and has always been punctual.

However, he was confused as to why you didn’t tell your husband about what happened that day. You're usually an open book and a chatterbox with your husband, so it came as a surprise Muzan wasn’t informed of his little oopsie. 

He didn’t ask you why, though. 

First, he didn’t want to push his luck, and second, he didn’t exactly want Muzan to find out. Muzan was known to be strict and blunt with everyone except you.

You have your rules, but Muzan has his demands.

Akaza knows this well since he was Muzan’s bodyguard before being assigned to you after your marriage. This change in his role was rather unexpected, considering your... dynamic.

As his mind wandered down this path, Akaza shook his head, his eyes closing in frustration.

“Don’t even think about going there,” he muttered to himself, knowing he didn’t have the patience to entertain such thoughts.

With another deep sigh, he continued getting ready. Once finished, he almost sprinted out of his room to start the car, ensuring everything was set for you to leave as soon as you were ready.

-

"Sign here, Ms. Rivera."

"Gladly."

Since it was a weekday, traffic in the capital city was manageable, and you arrived at your client's home right on time.

Muzan’s busy campaign schedule meant you often had to accompany him. If he wins the election, you’ll be the first lady, a role with its own important responsibilities.

Time flew by, and since your last meeting with Ms. Rivera a month ago, you were now down to the final run-through of her wedding plans for next month.

The only thing left was for your client to pay the remaining balance for your services.

After collecting the payment and discussing final details with Ms. Rivera, your meeting ended after nearly an hour. Akaza was there in the living room with you and the client, keeping himself busy with phone games,playing silently out of respect.

As he noticed the meeting wrapping up, he excused himself to prepare the car so you could leave promptly.

"Where to?" Akaza asked as he drove off.

"Hmm... let’s eat somewhere before going home. Are you craving something?" You looked at him, and he responded with a sheepish chuckle, "Don't worry about me, madam. You choose what you want."

"Honestly, I don’t know what I want to eat. I’m hungry but can’t decide what I’m in the mood for."

Akaza navigated the highway smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other propped on the door with his chin resting on his palm. He hummed as he thought about where to eat.

"There's this burger joint I know. It’s a bit far, but their food is good and cheap," he suggested. His tone exuded excitement, and as you listened to him, you noticed the excited tone, which for some reason made you equally excited as well.

"Sure! That sounds great. I don’t have any other plans, so we can take our time," you replied just as eagerly.

Akaza looked over to you for a minute, catching the pretty smile plastered on your face. Without his permission, his heart skipped a beat, and warmth seeped through his veins, softening his usually stoic demeanor.

Today, with the sun shining brightly and the breeze feeling wonderful against your skin, Akaza allowed himself to let his guard down just a bit and let his inhibitions win for once and just this once.

"It's decided, then."

With a fond smile, he nodded at you before stepping on the gas, determined to get you to the burger joint he enthusiastically vouched for.

The place where the remnant of your past lingered—the place where your Pandora's box awaits.

-

"This is so good!" you exclaimed as you took your first bite of the burger you ordered.

Akaza merely chuckled while watching you eat, his eyes filled with fondness and a little bit of pride. He was clearly pleased that you liked his suggestion when the two of you were deciding what to eat for lunch.

Through the years of serving you as your bodyguard, he learned that you were rather picky with the foods you ete. You have sensory issues, so certain food textures and scents are not to your liking.

You also don't like eating foods you hadn't tried before when you were very hungry, because what if you didn't like them? It would ruin your appetite right there and then. But this time, you had hearts in your eyes after taking your first bite of the burger.

"See? I told you it's good and mad cheap too. A little bit greasy, but we'll live," Akaza said with a chuckle.

You nodded enthusiastically in response. "Yeah, but to be honest, for some reason, the taste is familiar to me."

You looked around the burger joint, scanning every nook and cranny as you tried to gather your thoughts. "It's my first time here, yet this place feels so familiar, and the taste of their food reminds me of something, but I just can't pinpoint what it is."

Still lost in your own little world as you enjoyed your meal, a spark twinkled in Akaza's eyes as he listened to you.

"Maybe you've been here before, but you can't remember. I mean, if my schedule were as hectic and loaded as yours, I'd also forget stuff every now and then."

You hummed as you took another hearty bite, your pupils dilating at how much you loved it, making your bodyguard chuckle fondly at you. He didn't say anything more, knowing you were in the process of gathering your thoughts.

"I guess so, but I figure if I liked their food here so much, I wouldn't be able to forget this place. You know me and my obsession with food, Akaza."

Yeah, I know.

How could I ever forget?

"Most of what you make me do is either order you food or buy you iced coffee. How could I forget?" he replied with a teasing smile.

You playfully swatted him on the head.

Akaza snickered, finding absolute pleasure in teasing you.

"What? It's true! Check our chatbox—it's full of your food orders."

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "And who’s the one who enjoys eating half of those orders with me?"

Akaza grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, can you blame me? You tend to overorder, and most of the time you persuade me to eat the rest of it."

"Overorder? That's rich coming from the guy who always insists on extra fries," you retorted with a smirk.

"Hey, those fries are amazing, and you know it. And I'm not one to deny free food," Akaza said defensively and quite audaciously as he is having this conversation with you, his main source of income, but over the years of working for you and spending time with you, the two of you have grown close and a lot comfortable with each other's company.

"Yeah, yeah, just admit you can't resist good food either," you teased.

"Alright, alright," Akaza conceded, laughing. "You got me. But seriously, if I didn’t help you out, you’d probably be buried under a mountain of food by now."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, maybe I do get a little carried away sometimes."

"A little?" Akaza raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Remember that time you ordered enough sushi to feed an army? I had to go buy you medicine in the middle of the night because you got a bad stomach ache."

You rolled your eyes again, your cheeks a bit red due to a slight embarrassment, but you tried to cover it with a sheepish smile.

"It was a new place, and I wanted to try everything!"

"You certainly did," Akaza said, shaking his head. "But it’s all part of the job—keeping you happy and well-fed."

"And teasing me endlessly," you added.

"Of course," Akaza said while still wearing that damn teasing smile on his face. "It's also part of my KPIs."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his cheekiness. "Well, as long as you’re enjoying yourself."

Akaza leaned back, his expression softening. "I am. Besides, someone has to keep you grounded."

"Grounded, huh? More like keep me entertained," you retorted, smiling.

"That too," he admitted with a chuckle. "Ready to head back?"

You nodded, feeling satisfied both with the meal and the company. "Yeah, let’s go. Thanks for lunch, Akaza."

"Anytime, boss," he replied, standing up and offering you a hand.

With a shared smile, you both left the burger joint and headed back home.

-

Still on cloud nine from your spontaneous lunch out with Akaza, you entered the mansion, still chatting and laughing with one another. You didn't notice Muzan in the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of wine.

He had just come back from a busy day, which included attending business meetings at Obelisk Kibutsuji, participating in media interviews with his running mate Douma, and going to a fitting for an upcoming event you both would attend in about two months.

After such a hectic day, he rewarded himself with a drink to unwind.

At the sound of your melodious laugh chiming like bells in the hallway, his ears perked up, and he immediately looked up, his curiosity piqued. What could be the reason you were in such a good mood?

"Oh, hey, my love. You're home," you said lovingly as soon as you saw your husband in the kitchen.

"Yeah. The fitting ended a lot earlier, so I headed straight home," he responded with an equally loving smile.

Clearly elated to see him, you immediately sprinted with light steps towards Muzan, giving him the tightest bear hug and a smooch to match. Muzan happily reciprocated the kiss, making you giggle in between kisses.

Meanwhile, Akaza stood on one side of the room, waiting for you to either dismiss him or have him remain in his post should you have other tasks for him.

After a few more moments, you both pulled away and smiled at each other.

"How was your day, darling?" Muzan asked, still holding you in his embrace.

"It was great!" you replied.

"Oho? And may I know why?" Muzan asked again, his voice lacking the usual professional tone he used.

"My meeting with Ms. Rivera was successful, and we will be proceeding to the actual wedding preparations. And then, Akaza introduced me to this burger joint downtown, and it was so good! I need to take you there, my love. They have the best iced coffee too!"

"Oh, did he?" Muzan said, his scarlet eyes darting towards your bodyguard, who was currently wearing a polite smile as he regarded your husband with a nod and bow.

Muzan replicated his smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Turning back to you, Muzan said, "Well, when I'm not too busy or when we're in the area, let's eat there, hm?"

"It's a date," you giggled. Then you turned to Akaza and said, "You can go ahead and rest now, Akaza. Thank you so much for today."

"Yes, madam," he replied before bowing and retreating to his room at the far end of the mansion, beside Kokushibo and the maids' quarters.

Unbeknownst to you, Muzan was trailing your bodyguard's disappearing figure, and just as you were about to look up at him again, his undivided attention was back on you.

Giving your hips a good-hearted squeeze, he pointed to his half-empty wine glass and said, "Want a drink, darling?"

You nodded. "I'd love to."

The two of you walked back to the spacious kitchen. You sat on the countertop, your legs swinging merrily, as you watched your husband pour you a glass of red wine. After handing it to you, he walked over to the other side of the kitchen to look for something.

"How was your day, my love?" It was your turn to ask. Muzan smiled handsomely and replied in a relaxed manner, "Chaotic as always. To be quite honest, I think the fatigue is catching up to me."

You frowned at this. "It's because you're pushing yourself too hard. Why don't you take a day or two to rest?"

"Hmm... I might. I'll check my calendar, and if it's not too full, I will move those schedules to a later date," he replied while rummaging through a kitchen drawer.

"Want me to give you a massage later?"

Muzan finally returned to you after finding what he was looking for, a familiar smile now plastered on his face. He walked closer until your knees were against his torso, and both of his arms were securely placed on each of your sides, caging you in place.

"Just a massage? I think I'm going to need more than that, Y/N."

Already understanding what he was implying, you mirrored his smile, wrapped your arms around his neck, and invited him in between your legs. "What do you mean?"

Muzan chuckled seductively, his face only inches away from yours, the tip of his nose touching yours, his scarlet pupils mesmerizing you.

"I need you naked and moaning for me, darling. Can you do that?"

You chuckled just as seductively, already feeling aroused. You could only nod in response, much to your husband's delight.

"Hmm... it's decided then. But wait, before I get sidetracked, let's take our night supplements first."

You rolled your eyes at that. "Not you edging me before we even get started, Muzan."

Muzan let out a hearty chuckle, highly amused at your choice of words. "I'll make sure to repent later."

"You're forgiven," you replied with a chuckle, then took the pills your husband prepared for you. While you were preoccupied, a rather odd expression was plastered on Muzan's face, but it quickly reverted back to 'normal' once you're done.

"That's a new brand, by the way. Douma introduced it to me. He said it's way more effective than the one we're taking."

"Really? Hmm... I've not heard of this brand before. Is it imported?" you asked while gulping down a glass of water.

"Yeah, it's made in Italy."

You hummed in response, and in a split second, you found yourself being embraced by your husband again. In all honesty, he nearly gave you whiplash, but that's just one of Muzan's many quirks you fell in love with.

Then you felt him place a sensual kiss on your neck, immediately turning you into a puddle, even more so when you felt his teeth puncture your flesh. Afterwards, he dragged his kisses from your neck to your jaw, then finally to your lips.

"M-Muzan." You moaned as you felt his hands roam around your body, leaving chills in their wake.

"Already, darling? I'm just getting started." He didn't give you a chance to respond, as the moment you were about to, he glided his tongue between your plump lips and invited yours to a dance of tango.

The kiss left you so hazy that you didn't even notice Muzan had already discarded your pencil skirt, your undergarments dangling on your foot, and your blouse and bra fully undone by his skillful hands.

"I missed you so much, Y/N. It's been a while, huh?" Muzan asked after pulling away momentarily before diving down to one of your breasts, immediately nubbing on your nipples, making you gasp and moan out loud.

"Y-yes," you breathed out.

It was already well into the night, and usually the both of you were already in bed given that you were always busy with your respective work. But at this very moment, you'd never felt more alive and hungry for each other.

It really has been a while since you last had sex. Heck, it had also been a while since you last went on a proper date. So craving each other like rabbits in heat wouldn't surprise anyone, considering the two of you were borderline obsessed with one another.

"Ahhh," you gasped, your back arching as you felt your husband's tongue glide over your needy clit.

Muzan continued his magic in your nether region, quickly sending you over the edge. You had one hand clamped over your mouth, nervous that if you let any more lewd sounds escape, you would wake the maids and bodyguards.

"Let me hear you, darling," your husband hummed between your legs.

Unbeknownst to you, Muzan had his eyes wide open and focused on the entrance of the kitchen. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see someone's shadow.

Still concentrating his gaze there, he spoke again.

"Come on, Y/N. Let me hear you sing. Say my name, darling. Who's making you feel good?"

As if on cue, you reached climax; your eyes shot open and then closed shut again in sheer pleasure.

"Ah, fuc—Muzan!"

Muzan smirked as he watched the shadow slowly disappear.

"Good girl."

[eaudecrow]

Well, I promised context to anyone who begged sweetly, and that’s sweet though for me. (I say as if I haven’t been dying to rant about them for weeks.)

The short story: The Target, aka Din, is the assassination target of Father Kilter’s adopted revenant kid, Pigeon. If Din dies, both they and Pidge will rot in an existence worse than hell, as the unjust death and necromancy magic fuses their souls together in eternal agony. Kilter stays in contact with Din via Sending and Dream spells to keep the two apart (and manages to steal their heart by being wet and pathetic and teaching them how to care).

The full story (buckle the fuckle up):

So. The Target. They have what we’ll call a… justified god complex. As the self-appointed harbinger of truth, they run around exposing secrets and toppling corrupt governments for the betterment of the world. Unfortunately, this makes them public enemy number one. So what did they do to keep themself safe?

Trade away their face, of course.

The Target bargained with Truth itself. They would give it their long-lived service, in exchange for the power to mete out justice and a face that cannot be remembered. The moment you look away, you forget it.

Now their enemies have a new problem to contend with. How do you kill someone who can’t be found or even identified? The answer comes in the form of a revenant: a being so hellbent on killing one person, it always knows their target’s position, regardless of what magic is used to hide them. And this target is so important to eliminate that a necromancy cult artificially manufactures one to go after them.

Enter Pidge.

For a while, the only thing Father Kilter could do when the Target got too close was hold Pigeon as they scratched and stabbed and clawed, trying to bring about their own end as well as some random stranger’s. He had no idea who the target was, no way to contact them and keep them far, far away from his kid, no way to keep them safe—so he jumped at the chance to spy on them when they happened to pass within viewing distance.

One poorly-timed hunting snare later, and Kilter was left hanging upside down, before their horse, at their mercy.

Luckily they seemed inclined to have mercy. Despite Kilter’s terrible attempts at lying and generally suspicious nervous energy, their curiosity was piqued. They let him down. They joined him for some wine, even, introducing themself as “Din”. The two had a chat that started with each trying to subtly pick the other apart, and ended with Kilter completely losing that battle—so desperate for a semblance of help and genuine connection, that he spilled his backstory and his secrets to this literally faceless stranger. All they had to do was touch his knee and say “you aren’t alone” and he was FINISHED. In the end, he had no choice but to trust that they had good intentions and the means with which to act upon them.

That’s where things are at in the canon campaign. Outside of that, @couchtaro and I have been going FERAL over future things such as:

Kilter finally being able to touch someone bare-handed in their shared Dreamscape

Them providing Kilter a place to sleep without being haunted by Pestilence’s manipulative nightmares, and it somehow devolving into cuddles

To get around the face enchantment, Kilter reading the arch of their nose and brow and lips like braille, memorizing the shape of their scar so that he can recognize them by touch

The Target’s myriad 14-foot thick, adamantium emotional barriers getting blasted to itty bitty pieces by Kilter fixing their blood-loss-induced hypothermia with his own body heat

They’re so suspicious of each other right now. Little do they know they’re in for a rollercoaster of learning what it means to love, and by proxy what it means to live. Thanks for asking @booksandberries!

[idiopath-fic-smile]

ficlet: W.A.R!Enjolras's birthday party

roughly a bajillion years ago, i said i'd write donation fics for people who gave to abortion related causes. i flagged out about halfway through but i'm back, baby, and i'm determined to fill those requests.

this is for @sharki-leftishark, who was curious to see a birthday celebration in the W.A.R universe, either enjolras or grantaire. so today i bring to you enjolras's birthday, following the events of W.A.R. i never did figure out the month in which this story takes place, so please feel free to mentally set it whenever your own zodiac headcanons dictate.

ETA: and many thanks to @consultingreaders and @give-me-a-minute-to-think for the speedy and helpful beta!

Senior year

Maybe three-quarters of the way through opening the presents, Grantaire realizes that Enjolras is saving Grantaire’s gift for last. Enjolras tosses aside the paper from the hardbound journal that Marius got him, thanks Marius with real earnestness even though it’s the third variation of a notebook he’s received today, starts to reach for Grantaire’s sloppily wrapped bundle, sees the tag, and then his hands stutter instead toward a shiny package that turns out to be from Joly.

The package contains some sort of board game. Courfeyrac insists that the game is “Risk in space, it is so clearly Risk in space—we’ve been over this, people. Enjolras is not allowed within ten yards of a pretend army, remember? We voted?” and then Joly waves his cane at Courfeyrac, shouting, “People change! Also it’s a cooperative game, we’d be harnessing the laser eyes for the power of friendship and community!” and a lively debate ensues.

Grantaire follows some of it. He’s mostly trying not to think about how Enjolras, who believes in self-discipline and delayed gratification and all that shit, apparently considers Grantaire’s contribution to be the grand finale of this whole experience. Enjolras, who loves his friends so much. It’s heady to consider: the height of Enjolras’s expectations and the chance of maybe not meeting them, a quick swoosh up and then down. Not that Enjolras would ever be a dick about it or anything, but they’ve been dating, for-real dating, for months now, and if Enjolras doesn’t love the present, Grantaire will probably know.

After a lifetime, the presents-opening resumes. Feuilly has set up an appointment for Enjolras to interview a real-life union leader. Combeferre contributes a tidy set of books by someone named bell hooks. Courfeyrac’s offering is a gift certificate to the impossibly cool indie movie theater two towns over as well as a bubble gun blower, which immediately sparks off another round of debate.

(“Oh, so fictitious simulated pretend armies are verboten, but you get him a firearm?” Joly manages between laughs.

“One that shoots soap bubbles, you maniac!” Courfeyrac shoots back.

“At least it would be a clean kill,” muses Combeferre, and Eponine’s eye roll would be slightly more convincing if they hadn’t clearly slipped away during the division of the birthday cake to make out.)

And then, well. And then it’s Grantaire’s turn. To see his present opened, not to sneak off to swap spit with his boyfriend, which come to think of it sounds infinitely better, and not just because Enjolras’s dedication to self-improvement extends to learning how to kiss Grantaire to the point of incoherence in under five minutes.

Enjolras unwraps the paper carefully and shakes out the fabric. It’s a T-shirt, emblazoned with the words “ENJOLRAS 2024: ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH TO CHANGE THE WORLD?”

“For the campaign,” says Grantaire. “I did the math and that’s the first year you can run for president.”

“You need to be thirty-five,” says Enjolras. A smile is flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” Grantaire tells him. “I looked it up because I had to know the first year I could vote for you. I cracked open my Government textbook for you, so like. Feel honored.”

“We had Government last year,” Enjolras seems to feel compelled to point out. “When did you—”

Grantaire can feel his face burning. He’s not even sure why, really. “Last March,” he says.

“When you first started pretending to date,” Musichetta fills in with relish. Now that it’s public knowledge among their friends, she brings it up whenever she can.

“I thought you were maybe out of your mind,” says Grantaire, “but like. I don’t know. You’re clearly gonna be somebody. And, uh. You had my vote. And still do, obviously.”

Enjolras is turning a little red too. “You should probably see what the other candidates’ positions are before you make that call,” he mumbles.

Grantaire’s heart soars. He shakes his head. “No way, I’m a single-issue voter and my one issue is ‘how much is this guy like Enjolras?’”

Enjolras ducks his head. He lays the T-shirt down carefully, next to the pile of books and notebooks. He opens his arms. Enjolras, who, now that the dating is real, isn’t really about public displays of affection.

“This is so sweet I think I’m going to actually throw up,” says Eponine as Grantaire steps into the hug. He squeezes hard. Enjolras squeezes harder.

“I like you so much,” Enjolras murmurs into the side of his face. “Also, you’re the one who’s out of your mind, nobody just runs for president—”

“Sure,” says Grantaire, “You gotta be twenty-five to run for House of Reps, so 2014’s the first year you’d be eligible. Now, U.S. Senate, you need to be thirty, so you can run in 2018, when it just so happens a seat will be open—”

Enjolras kisses him on the mouth.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

What do you mean “elected?” Don’t you apply for the job as a sheriff? Sorry, not from the USA. Is this a thing there?

Whoops! Sorry, I should have explained that better in my previous post. That’s on me, y’all! I’m sorry for lack of explanation,

In the United States, you run for that spot. It’s kinda like when you run for office as a politician. If your town is small enough, you hold an election every “X” amount of years and hold a campaign on why you want that job. (Years vary. When I lived in a small town in Florida, it was every four to seven years). However, if there isn’t an election, then the position is usually appointed by someone. You’re nominated for the role and there’s a city election. More information about that can be found HERE if you’re interested.

We can infer that Tom had a very high role as the town’s sheriff if he had to announce that he was leaving for San Francisco in the first film. We can also infer that he was voted in, not handed the role due to his title. Wade is a deputy sheriff, meaning that he applied for the role and got the job. He’s also the one that steps up and takes over if Tom leaves. If Tom was planning to leave Green Hills in the first film, then Wade would have to take over.

After the first movie established that Tom was staying, it wasn’t very clear on whether or not he left the profession. (I assumed that he did because Maddie referred to him as “Mr. Manager”). When set photos released for Sonic 2, we could see that there were lots of political posters. Some are about civil rights and others are reelection posters. I don’t see Tom’s name on either of these. This makes me think/believe that Tom is either A). In the process of stepping down from the role or B). Not running for reelection again and has left 100%.

Again, this is just my speculation. It’s my little theory on the whole matter. Since I don’t see anything visually indicating that he’s the town’s sheriff, my mind instantly jumped to the idea that he’s leaving the profession and encouraging Wade to step up. To me, Tom hasn’t registered as a sheriff in my mind for years. I keep thinking that he’s a stay-at-home dad with Maddie being the provider of the household.

I’m so sorry that I wasn’t very clear in my last post. I’ll do better next time!

[liskantope]

I have a lot of mixed thoughts nowadays about the "threat to democracy" angle to Trump's potential re-presidency.

On the one hand, Trump has made it abundantly clear, from long before the period of the 2020 campaign season when he began priming his base to expect the election to be rigged against him, that he has a fundamentally antidemocratic mentality, that for him, the concept of "democracy" is what it means to a (not particularly bright) second-grader: a fancy word for something that in the US we say we value all the time but which doesn't mean anything of significance. He has instilled a similar mentality among his cult following, and it's eroding our collective sense of what it means to be the United States and our once robust underlying trust (across political ideologies) in our system of elections. It already culminated in the events of January 2021, which made our country an embarrassment to the world and suggests that more violence and strife is in our future as long as he's on the political scene (even if Harris wins in November, I'm dreading how the Trumpists are going to react).

For me on a gut level, the deepest pang of insult and disgust (among very many!) associated with Trump getting into the White House again comes from the idea that he's unqualified not only in his inability to competently handle object-level issues but on the meta level of having no respect whatsoever for democracy, which to me represents the error-correcting mechanism of supreme importance in any system and the primary feature that, uh, makes America great (and revolutionary, back in the 18th century).

But then, at the same time... let's say he wins again. Where does his disrespect for democracy lead, exactly?

Trump has very deliberately undermined trust among his base in elections, and this time around he'll do better with appointing people in crucial positions who will fix elections for him, but what will this mean, concretely? It seems to me that the worst I can conceive of, without inventing scenarios that go completely off the rails, is that Trump manages to find the energy and knowhow to fix the results of a number of 2026 midterm elections and then get through more legislation in the second half of his term than he would have and maybe this includes an abolishment of term limits so that he could run again and fix the results to win again. This does seem quite bad, but it's also pretty far-fetched that he'd actually be able to do all this (starting with doctoring the visible results of a great enough number of midterm races to make a real difference), and anyway, the damage done would be severely hampered by (1) the fact that he'll be getting into his 80's and seems quite likely to drop dead quite suddenly, and (2) his lack of actual focused ideological beliefs (like what's he actually going to try to accomplish with one or two more terms?) -- he's seeking to get back into the White House basically because campaigning is fun and power and attention feel good and it's a way of screwing around and keeping the law from catching up with him.

Maybe I'm lacking in imagination on this, and I do remember Sam Harris having someone on his podcast who described a very concrete scenario of Trump eroding democracy if back in power that sounded pretty scary the way it was spoken at the time, but I can't remember the details now. Meanwhile, the recent Supreme Court decision about presidential immunity seems murky and up to interpretation and like it would maybe require a pretty contrived situation to allow Trump to get away with something truly dictatorial.

I think it's good that Democrats are reminding voters over and over again how incredibly offensive Trump is with regard to his attitude towards our democratic ideals; it seems that a lot of Americans care about this (rightly) and it will help Trump get defeated. That said, I don't know that it does any favors to throw around such vague and dramatic phrases as "will destroy democracy" though. First of all, what does that mean? Secondly, to the extent that it exaggerates the situation, it sounds hysterical, which is something the other side can always capitalize on. I suspect it has, at least in that Trump himself has noticed on some level that he can use desperate and freaked-out-sounding rhetoric from the other side as fodder for trolling.

It really bothers me the way the anti-Trump side has completely taken the bait in moments like Trump's comments about how he'll be a dictator on day one only. It would be one thing to be upset and offended because Trump's cult has flaunted the democratic process and the perception of it in serious ways and so it's in extremely bad taste for him of all people to be flippant and joking about it. It's another thing to hear the "I'll be a dictator but only on day one" comment and conclude in a serious tone, "See? He just admitted right out that he wants to be a dictator!", as if we shouldn't all have the collective psychological intelligence to understand that speaking that way is a form of mischievous, irreverent, trolling-while-projecting-a-strongman humor that Trump has always specialized in (and is indeed what makes him so refreshing to so many people).

I'm similarly really annoyed at the reactions -- including from such smart and sensible commentators as David Pakman -- to Trump's recent remark to a Christian audience about going out and voting just this one time and then he'll "fix" it so they won't have to vote again. I heard that the first time, and it was fairly obvious to me that there were several more likely explanations as to what he meant in context apart from "I'm going to make myself dictator for life" -- the first one that came to my head was "the main reason why a lot of Christians vote is the abortion issue, and Trump is implying that he'll 'fix it', meaning get an amendment passed banning abortion everywhere". Then I saw in an clip from a Trump interview afterwards (I only saw this because it was played by David Pakman I think, though he professed not to understand any sense of what Trump was saying) that Trump's explanation for the remark had to do with Christians not voting in very large numbers. ("I know you don't always care enough to vote, but do it just this once and then you won't have to again" actually sounds very close to the usual line, popular on the liberal side, about "this is the most important election of our lives", with my own personal addition of "vote to resoundingly defeat MAGA so that maybe the each subsequent election won't continue to be the most important of our lives.") I found out today from Matt Lewis' weekly podcast episode with Bill Scher that the context of Trump being concerned about low Christian voter turnout was in fact plainly acknowledged in earlier parts of Trump's same speech, although Scher says that the oft-cited notion of Christians not voting is a myth. Trump's confident claims that he'll "fix everything" are characteristic of him (and one of his main recognized demagogic rhetorical faults he's ridiculed for!) and a much less athletic explanation for his comment than "I'll change the country so that there won't be any elections", a thing that he's never said or implied.

Of course, if Trump cared a shred about truly assuring people that he has no dictatorial inclinations, he would be careful not to make comments that could even remotely be interpreted as such, and one could argue that in that context his "vote for me now and I'll fix it so that you won't need to again" comment was offensive. I'm not sure whether he maybe even intended that comment to be misinterpreted by his opponents this way so as to rile them up, although I seriously doubt that he was being that clever. I just wish people would stop feeding the troll and walking right into the trap of interpreting as much as possible in terms of "destroying our democracy" and treating every remark Trump says as a way of taking the man much more seriously than he deserves, even while at the same time we could simultaneously call attention to the seriously threatening aspects of Trump and Trumpism.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

I'm writing a wittebane's fanfiction and I can't find anything about how old one had to be in order to join witch hunts. It's just all about the victims--which is important don't get me wrong but I can hardly find anything on the witch hunters end other then the famous guys like Hopkins. Was their ever a recording of a specific age requirement to join the witch hunts?

Well, the thing is witch hunting was not a formal profession. Unless you're Matthew Hopkins who managed to make a career out of it, witch hunters could be anyone with a lot of time, resources, and the ability to draw out false confessions (i.e. torture). Witchcraft was considered to be a felony punishable by death so any "witch-hunters" would be people like politicians, local magistrates, lawyers, ministers, basically anyone in a position of power. It would be their job to investigate accusations of witchcraft (perjury was also a crime so there had to be sufficient "evidence") and then proceed to put the accused on trial, witness would then come in with their evidence, and the court would decide the accused's fate.

The image of a lone witch hunter moving from town to town looking for witches is largely inspired by Hopkins. For the most part, witch hunts were communal: neighbors would accuse neighbors, rival families would target each other, and god help you if you were a slave or a woman with a sharp tongue, then everybody would come after you. It also didn't matter what age you were if you wanted to accuse someone of witchcraft; Betty Parris and Abigail Williams, whose strange fits and outbursts kickstarted the whole Salem Witch Trials, were aged 9 and 11 respectively.

It is also important to remember that witch hunts typically happen during times of great turmoil, Hopkins rose to power during the English Civil War and Salem's witch hunts occurred years after the disastrous King Philip's War which led to more refugees populating the region. There are, of course, a variety of complex reasons why witch hunts happen but they do not happen when a population is fed, healthy, and happy.

During times of crisis, anyone in a position of power can be a self-appointed "witch-hunter" and start a campaign targeting the community's most vulnerable members.

[rgr-pop]

if i was a normal level of unwell right now i’d be baking a loaf of bread. i don’t want to have to leave the house tomorrow and i can’t bring myself to go to this stupid womens meeting. i have been so clear that i can’t do non constructive meetings that don’t specifically need me right now because i’m worn so thin, but if i don’t come on my sunday off i’ll lose credibility and these other orgs won’t work on the abortion fund projects. it feels like it’s always all on me to defend the value of doing repro work— and sometimes that’s okay and as you know i’m stepping up to work on this structural problem. but the problem is that if i show any signs of fragility—or god forbid say, “i need my sunday to myself this week,” or even worse, “my pet snail is dying and it’s going to impact my productivity for a week,” what i will be told is, well, you don’t have the capacity to sustain this work, so we’re going to stop working on it.

and the problem isn’t exactly that i’m the only one doing it (right now for example i have a street outreach brigade pamphleting hash bash lol in ann arbor, a political research crew prepping for the leg piece, a new Posting partnership planned for soon, the fundraiser ask is being made by someone else, plus some workings in a second chapter… look at me defending the work to you!), but we don’t have quite everyone with ownership over the project yet (which you build to) and, as i’ve said, everyone is depending all their willingness to not put up walls around this on whether or not i personally look energized and perfect and like i know everything every time they see me. meanwhile i want only one thing all the time (to kill myself). and i can’t be in this position because i’m not doing great. but i’m an ill and severely mentally ill person who can—i know—do a couple hours a week of organizing most weeks. and i believe you can build effective campaigns that bring in more people and build capacity and bolster people’s belief in the power working collectively for 2-10 hours a week can have to change people’s lives and make them feel mostly better rather than mostly worse. it’s important to me to hold that line. but i personally can’t survive being scolded by social workers (anarchists) and sociopaths (postleninists and social movement strategists) not to mention the regular misogynists who I HAVE TO PRESENT THIS TO IN A WEEK HOPING THAT THEY DONT DO SOMETHING MEAN TO SCARY TO ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!

anyway the thing is that i’m so fragile that i don’t see a way where this consciousness raising or whatever meeting doesn’t ruin my mood for the next few days, because every single one so far has been so bad it has edged on a traumatic experience. and i have to deal with that on top of everything else i have in my life (snail dying, baby, ANTS, being solely responsible for housework and most bills, feeding myself on no money, medical appointments, all my loved ones in crisis due to being poor women, eclipse???, my union, eating disorder, chronic pain, SNAIL DYING). and if you were a loser wannabe social worker you might say “it sounds like you don’t have capacity to organize” and, WRONG. i don’t have the capacity to waste two hours of my life + the bus travel on a consciousness raising meeting where someone tells me what’s wrong about me. and i disagree with the relational organizing (or even post bernie labor type) partisans a who say, that’s where the organizing happens. i disagree and i have a different theory of how this works (i may be inventing a caucus lol). and most importantly i think that i personally am more like a majority of working class women than i’m different. the main thing that makes me most different from other working class women is how much time i commit to communism. i want to change this!!!

today i need to work on things but i’m focused on my snail and the feelings around this. i’m having a hard time feeding myself. i don’t think crying on a saturday with my dying pet snail while managing mental illness during an eclipse makes me someone who can’t organize and i do NOT think getting psychologically torn to shreds by a social worker in training or a social movement strategist trying to force me to do drugs at a retreat is going to make me a better organizer.

j invited us over after the meeting and i’m overcome with guilt about coming empty handed. i miss him. i saw him in passing at the last meeting. he makes me happy and feel better. i don’t think i should be with him because i worry all i can do is complain. and he will be reminded why everyone hates me et cetera. but after i saw him that day when i wanted to die he reached out right after and said do you guys want to come over for dinner.

i can’t do the dishes. i made sniva a carrot. she got up to eat it. her trapdoor is so withered but i don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go on reddit to think about it. i want her to live six more days. i genuinely don’t know whether i’m neglecting her or should let it be. i am almost sure there is nothing i can do to fix her trapdoor. i’m going to do a small water change/replacement tonight if i can be upright enough. that’s it!! im as good as murdering her

[kdaisies]

On November 1st, I was feeling very bad, but now I'm calmer to share what happened. Recently, I went through another heavy bout of depression. Suicidal thoughts and even attempts, along with a lot of sadness, despair, and so on.

One thing that doesn't make sense is that everything in my life was fine. My only trigger had been a comment from my own son that left me extremely dysphoric. So, I continued my therapy at Casulo (the transgender outpatient clinic in my city) as usual, being honest and open with the professionals there during this delicate time, which coincided with the rib injury I suffered from wearing a binder. Even though I was depressed, I stayed strong in therapy, attending regularly, following the psychiatrist's recommendations to bring my partner for dialogue, and I even started a campaign to raise funds for my surgery. This gave me a boost, and I managed to climb out of the pit, even though my psychiatrist increased my medication dosage.

With the donated money, I was even able to have my first private consultation with the mastologist. As I mentioned before, I had given up on the public health system (SUS) after they lost my medical records from UREDIPE (the former outpatient clinic), and I spent ANOTHER YEAR at Casulo with the count of time RESET.

However, my hopes of getting surgery through SUS were revived last week when, during a consultation with the endocrinologist at the Casulo project, he started the referral process for me to go to Jean Bittar.

I filled out an anamnesis and did the same with the psychologist. When I asked the endocrinologist if he thought I could still have my surgery this year, he said it was VERY LIKELY. He added that on the 1st of the month, I should go to an appointment with the psychiatrist to obtain the last necessary assessment, and then it would be with the social services (to be referred to Jean Bittar). Obviously, I was SUPER HAPPY, thinking that I was going to get my surgery through SUS!!!

I don't know if you can understand how delicate it is to give someone with a dream hope. Especially a dream that directly relates to my mental health, given that the need for this surgery causes me to have very low lows, to become extremely depressed, and to desire to give up on my life!!! These were the hopes that were given to me.

I was so confident that I would have the surgery through SUS that, perhaps those who follow me have noticed, I reduced the promotion of my campaign.

On the 1st, however, when I went to the Casulo project (I had a routine appointment with a psychologist, and theoretically, I was ONLY going to do an anamnesis with the psychiatrist to get my assessment), everything went wrong.

Basically, the argument I heard was that the psychology and psychiatry team understood that I "had just come out of a crisis" and therefore I "needed to get better a little more" before being referred to Jean Bittar (the hospital that performs mastectomies).

You see, as I said, the reason for my crisis was a trigger that made me feel dysphoric. It was dysphoria that made me feel bad, it was the lack of respect and responsibility with MY DOCUMENTS when I was at UREDIPE, it was MY NEED TO HAVE SURGERY that seemed extremely distant.

How could I get better from what hurts before being able to get better from what hurts?? It doesn't make sense. I feel dysphoria about my chest, and this operation is an urgent need that is being neglected and affecting my mental health, but they consider that I FIRST have to get better mentally to have the surgery (????) Obviously, I gave myself the right not to stay in the Casulo office under the extremely stressful conditions that have made me go through this ONCE AGAIN.

The SESPA (the State Department of Health of Pará) should investigate my situation because at this moment, it felt easier to end my life completely; it was my support network that got me back on track!

Even if this "get better a little more" innocently refers to a few weeks, it still shattered someone's expectations in a CRUEL way. I sincerely felt driven to madness, and I left there desolate without even getting to talk to the psychiatrist.

To be honest, I don't even feel like GOING BACK TO CASULO!! Everything is an illusion. A lie. It seems that no one from SESPA or the Government of Pará really cares about the transgender population. We have to accept everything silently and pretend that everything is fine!

How can one stabilize after going through all the necessary consultations at UREDIPE, having my data lost, restarting the count at Casulo, having yet another year of regular follow-up, and finally, after all this time, being referred, only to be told that I "need to stabilize" first????

It's unfeasible. I don't deny the need for psychiatric and psychological care. I don't deny that this goes beyond my gender identity; I talk openly about it every day, I know I'm neurodivergent.

The question is, don't neurodivergent individuals have the right to have surgery as well??? After all, it's dysphoria that's inflaming a mental health condition I already have!!?

I won't allow myself to be silenced or buried by cisgender norms. I will fight for my surgery, by any means it may come.

I KNOW I'm neurodivergent, but I don't have a diagnosis because the psychiatry team doesn't give us diagnoses easily, but it's always easy to incapacitate us and say that we need to "recover from the crisis" before addressing the root cause of the damn crisis.

If I'm not neurodivergent and my crises are exacerbated by dysphoria caused by the need for mastectomy, I DEMAND, at a minimum: the mastectomy.

Now, if I'm neurodivergent and I have a mental condition BEYOND gender identity, I DEMAND my diagnosis and an ACCURATE assessment so that I have a basis for what exactly I'm recovering from, what my condition is, and what rights I have!

Furthermore, I still demand my mastectomy ANYWAY, because it's my right as a transgender person! After all, dysphoria inflames the inherent condition of whatever is affecting my mental health!

You can help me by sharing my case or donating to my mastectomy campaign through PayPal (US donations) (email: kaleomendesm@gmail.com), donations in BRL through the link https://campanhadobem.com.br/campanhas/mastectomia-e-consultas-do-kaleo

[peaktotheocean]

medicinal

pairing: pre-steddie ao3 link here summary: “I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully.

Eddie didn't usually take appointments. It was easy enough to show up at a party, make some sales, and then skedaddle. The idea of someone wanting to get him alone at a certain time and location sounded like a recipe for trouble. 

But he didn't always say no. Certain people, he just got a good vibe from. 

And Robin Buckley was one of those people. 

Which was the only reason he was waiting by the river an hour before dusk, trying to pretend as though he was out for a walk. Maybe birdwatching. He could be a birdwatcher. He wasn't so much for human chicks but baby birds--

Well, there was a Robin coming towards him right now. 

“Buckley, welcome.” He tilted his head in greeting and gestured to the large rocks that made up the riverbank. "Please, step into my office."

“Good to see you too.” Robin gave him a nervous smile but it wasn't too different from her regular smile. She tugged down on the sleeves of her jacket even though the early September sun setting through the trees managed to heat up the whole city as a fuck you before disappearing. 

“When do you normally see me?” Eddie chalked it up to regular anxiety or first time jitters. Robin wasn't a recurring customer. He had seen her share a joint or two with a few people at band parties but she'd never purchased anything for herself. At least not from Eddie. 

“Band practice?“ Robin tried. “I guess I don’t,” she admitted a whole second later.

“We appreciate the honesty here.” He sorted through his stash, filing through plastic baggies a personal card catalog. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully. She let out a sigh, as if she had been gearing herself up to ask the question the whole walk along the river.

"Damn it, Buckley, I'm a dealer, not a doctor," Eddie joked, trying to soften it with a smirk. It didn’t work. Robin's face fell and Eddie bit his lip. "But I’ve heard some positive things. This friend can't buy it for themselves?" Eddie mentally went through the people he had seen Robin with, in band, around town, at the diner. Some geeks from school, a few soccer girls, and weirdly enough, some of the kids from Hellfire. Eddie thought back to a conversation he had with Dustin not too long ago, with the kid pulling him aside after a campaign session. "This isn't for Henderson, is it? I already told that kid his first time smoking is going to be with me."

Robin didn't hide her surprise but it morphed into impressed more quickly than Eddie expected. "Very responsible, Munson. No, it's not for Dustin.” She did a double-take and her already short hair flew into her mouth. Even as she tried to pull it out, she asked, “Dustin asked you for weed?"

"Gave me a very similar story to you, Buckley." Eddie narrowed his eyes. "What exactly am I missing here?"

Robin kept silent, not avoiding the question, but just being thoughtful about her answer. Eddie couldn't tell if she was being so choosy with her words for Eddie's sake or her own. Maybe both. 

Finally, slowly, she started to speak.

"Dustin and I have...a mutual friend who can't afford the amount of concussions he keeps getting. Hence all the migraines." Robin rapped her closed fist against her own head, wincing directly after.

"Ouch." Eddie matched her expression. "Can't afford like--"

"Both physically and monetarily," Robin quickly interrupted him. 

"Christ."

"Yeah so, we're trying...other avenues." Robin gestured to Eddie, fingers outstretched and wiggling, imitating one of the many Hawkins cheerleaders.

"And what does your friend think about these alternative avenues?" Eddie held up a baggie that he thought would suit her needs. Or her mystery friend’s needs, more like. 

Robin huffed and her bangs flew into the air. "He hates that we're making a fuss. But if he's in enough pain next time around, I don't think he'll argue if I'm ready with some supplies." She looked pointedly at the weed held between Eddie's fingers.

Eddie didn't hand it over just yet. He knew he stared too much sometimes but he couldn't help it. Especially now. 

This was a different Buckley from the one he knew from band. Something had changed over the summer and Eddie wasn't sure what. 

He also wasn't sure he wanted to know, if he was being honest with himself.

There was a wall there, some kind of barrier in Robin's eyes. She wasn't giving him anything and it made Eddie want to turn tail and run, leaving her with whatever weed she wanted for her friend. But instead, he used his free hand to grip on the rock beneath him and did his best to smile at her.

They weren't fooling each other. 

"You're making me want to give you a discount, Buckley. I never do that." He shook his head and handed over the little plastic bag. "$20."

"That sounds like a fuss, Eddie Munson. But I won't tell him if you won't." Robin took her purchase and stared at it, like she wasn't sure where to put it now that she had it. She settled for slipping it between a sock and her low top Chucks. Not the worst place. Most women tucked it into their bra but Eddie wasn't going to offer any critiques. Instead, he grabbed onto another bad question that a part of his brain couldn't help wondering. 

"You won't tell me who this guy is? How you and Dustin know the same victim of hard knocks? In Hawkins?" Not much happened in this city if Eddie didn't include whatever the hell happened with the Byers kid a few years back. Well, and the mall that caught on fire. Shit, maybe Hawkins was gearing up for something.

"There are...other elements at play here." Robin bit off before she could say anything else. Her eyes brightened up again but not nearly enough. Eddie could still see that wall, no matter how easy she played it off. So he took a different avenue. He couldn't help it.

"You said he keeps getting concussions. You being careful?"

Robin let out a hollow laugh at that, which made Eddie feel both better and worse. "We are doing our best." 

That wasn't a great answer. 

Eddie thought about Dustin. How he and Mike and Lucas sometimes planned combat maneuvers during Hellfire as though they were seasoned war veterans, taking the game way too seriously. Normally, Eddie had the opposite problem when wrangling players during Dungeons & Dragons.

"Are the kids are caught up in this?" Eddie asked quietly, not even realizing until the words were out of his mouth. 

Robin’s spine stiffened just slightly and there it was— the same steel expression the kids got on their faces while trying to figure out their next move. Eddie could see her mind shifting and it only frayed Eddie's nerves further. 

She looked him in the eyes and asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Do you really want to know the answer to any of this, Eddie?"

"No..." Eddie answered slowly. He couldn't look away from her eyes. She seemed so...curious almost. As if she was just daring him to ask. "No, I do not. Take your purchase and have a lovely day."

Just like that, the moment was gone. Robin tilted her head back and laughed, stretching her arms in front of her as she lifted herself off of the rock. 

“Sweet talker," she called behind her, leaving him by the river, just watching her go. 

"I'm not your type, Buckley," Eddie shouted at her, not able to help himself. 

"You're not mine either, Munson," Robin mocked him with a wink.

 -

Waiting for Steve to emerge from Lover's Lake was the longest minute and ten seconds of Eddie's life. He remembered the look Steve had given Dustin. And then the one he had given Eddie. He kept going over Dustin's hero worship in his head. His fingers tightened around Steve's yellow sweatshirt.

He doesn't know this new Steve Harrington at all. But he'd like to. 

He'd really like to. Damn it.

There's nothing but the water sloshing up against the side of the boat and Eddie figured if he didn't talk, Robin would start. She couldn't stand the silence. So instead, Eddie asked the question he had been thinking about ever since Dustin explained this whole wild story.

"Your friend. With the concussions." He nudged Robin who gave him a blank look for a few seconds before letting out laughter that was far too loud. She clapped her hands over her mouth but slowly lowered them. 

"Figured it out?" She whispered.

"Pretty obvious now that I’ve seen him in action." Eddie gulped, looking down at the water. They couldn't even see the flashlight through the water anymore. "When you said that he couldn't afford anymore..."

Nancy looked between the two of them and sighed. "He always says that it's better him than the kids or us,” she grumbled. She glanced back down at the time and then over the side of the boat to the dark water. “Hard to disagree with that logic but..."

"But that doesn't mean we have to like it,” Robin finished for her.

“Your lives, man.” Eddie shook his head. "This is insane."

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Nancy muttered.

 -

Eddie could maybe admit that his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. He still felt pretty fuzzy and in a lot of pain but he couldn't help but smile when he opened his eyes to see Steve Harrington next to him, slumped down in a hospital chair. Dustin, a cast on his leg, was curled up in a chair across the room, asleep but seemingly in better shape than both Eddie and Steve.

Somehow, Steve looked even worse in the well-lit hospital room than he had in the Upside Down, but it's possible that was just because there was enough light for Eddie to see every bandage and suture. But Steve was conscious and blinked when he saw that Eddie's eyes were open, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"You're awake," Steve said dumbly, sitting up too quickly in his chair and then hissing in pain. He tried again, slower this time and leaned closer to Eddie's bed. So close and yet Eddie still would gladly give up a few more inches. 

"Please tell me you don't have another concussion," Eddie blurted out before he could help it. Somewhere, Robin felt even more of a kinship with him and didn't know it was because neither of them could ever stop talking. But Steve's head was something he had been thinking about on loop during their whole journey, even when potentially getting a concussion of his own. Not just his head, but maybe his face too, and his hair. But that was all part of his head so it was okay. 

Steve's brain caught up with the question. "Wait-- how do you know about that?" He stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Robin. That was your weed?"

"Buckley and the grass,” Eddie confirmed, leaning his head back against the hospital pillow. He could have sworn he heard his hair crunch. What he wouldn’t give for a shower. “But I figured it out for myself once I saw you at work during this adventure.” He winked and he hoped the hospital lighting wasn't playing tricks on him because Steve Harrington's blush went all the way down to the bandage that covered his bruised torso. 

He held out his hand and Steve took it so quickly that the heart monitor attached to Eddie beeped with excitement. Steve squeezed his fingers and didn't let go but instead, let both of their hands rest together on the edge of Eddie's bed. He ran his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand but Eddie was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't going to let this go. 

"You didn't answer my question."

"About?" Steve looked up from where their hands were and his dazed eyes made Eddie wonder if he had his own bed in the hospital somewhere that he had snuck out of in order to be in Eddie's room.

"About that head of yours, Stevie." Eddie squeezed his hand. "Don't tell me they were too distracted by the stitches to do a concussion check."

"Oxygen loss was the bigger issue this time around, apparently," Steve joked badly and gestured to the bruise around his neck. Eddie knew that bruises had to get worse before they could get better but Steve's looked downright terrible. 

"Your poor brain, sweetheart," Eddie sighed, only half faking his sorrowful tone. He wished Steve was closer so he could sink his hands into that hair. Maybe a head massage would help. 

"I know, I know."

“When we get out of here, we’re going to treat those migraines right.” Eddie wasn’t sure how but he bet the Byers’ new friend Argyle could help him out.

Steve hummed and closed his eyes, still holding onto Eddie’s hand even as he drifted off. “I’d like that.”

-

ao3 link here

[heartofstanding]

Because of your tags, i now have thoughts and emotions about Humphrey spending a good portion of his life not being allowed to do anything, knowing how much that screwed him over, and then having to watch the same thing happen to his nephew. Either way, giving the kid increasing responsibility makes sense, but what if Humphrey recognised his own inadequacies and was trying to prevent Henry from having the same

Yes, good, join me in the pit of thoughts and emotions about Humphrey... 😈

But seriously, I do think a lot about how he was the only one of his brothers not to be given responsibility from a young age and how it ultimately screwed him over in terms of preparing him for a public life. Sure, it meant he didn't have to pawn his belongings or write begging letters to their father to address the chronic lack of funds like all three of his brothers did, but it also means that by the time Henry IV's kicked the bucket, Humphrey is 23 and he has no responsibilities, no experiences, no real status besides his blood relationships.

TBF, there are some theories Henry intended Humphrey to join the priesthood and he was studying at Oxford for most of Henry IV's reign but there's no evidence for that and there really should be evidence for that it that was the plan. What we have evidence of is Humphrey... not doing very much. He's not being given the any kind of positions, let alone the same kind of commands as his brothers which means he's not given the same kind of apprenticeship in military command, money management, leadership, service and just... working with other people. Sure, there might not be a need for Humphrey to step-up like Hal, Thomas and John did (at ages 13, 14 and 14 respectively) and sure, there's no obvious position for him to step into (e.g. John's appointment in northern England comes as a result of the Percy rebellion) but he could be doing something. Send him to Wales to be given a nominal command under Hal!

(I feel as though I should, like, define this kind of "apprenticeship" I'm talking about. Because they're sons of the king, all of Henry's sons are too high status to serve under someone else, but in their early teens, they're given nominal commands and effectively learn how to command, how to lead a military campaign, how to work with others, under the guidance of experienced, adult men who may have a governor/tutor-like relationship with them, e.g. Hal and Worcester, John and Westmoreland).

And, like, it may well have been fun for Humphrey. He's not writing letters home going "dad please come pick me up or at least send me money for a pizza i'm scared and poor". He still gets given grants of manors, lands, rents and various favours without having to do anything. He might well have been living in one of his manors and having the time of life and earning his reputation as a horndog. Or he might have been hanging around his sick father and witnessing all the power struggles and arguments going on at court without having any ability to influence them. Or both, even. Humphrey can contain multitudes! Not all of them have to be incredibly annoying!

Ian Mortimer says something in 1415 along the lines that Henry IV didn't give Humphrey any kind of responsibilities because he always knew his youngest son was a failboat. Which, yeah, no, I don't buy that, I think it's more likely that Humphrey became a failboat because his father didn't give him any responsibilities. And who knows why he did that: maybe Humphrey was a sickly kid, maybe Humphrey was actually the favourite child, the one he couldn't bear to let grow up and go his own way. Or maybe he had a pathological, Saturn-like fear of his sons and Humphrey was the one he didn't have to promote out of dependency.

So, by the time Henry IV kicks the bucket, Humphrey's been adrift without purpose, without responsibility for 23 years and he's about 10 years too old for the same kind of apprenticeship that his brothers got. And come the Agincourt expedition, he's 25 years old, he's never been to battle*, he has no military retinue of his own or the connections to make one, he has no experience in leadership or command. It's got to be be humiliating.

To his credit, Hal seems to have stepped up to the plate. Not only does he give John and Humphrey their dukedoms, he also gives Humphrey responsibilities to match. During the Agincourt campaign, he puts Humphrey's retinue inside his own which means Humphrey's kinda getting that apprenticeship from Hal. Michael P. Warner also notes there are some figures in Humphrey's retinue who were part of the royal household and suggests Hal might have been responsible for their service with Humphrey, that Hal had helped Humphrey build his retinue up.

And we have no evidence that Humphrey was failboating under Henry V. His military career is successful, there are no complaints about his behaviour as Hal's regent in England. There's some stuff about Humphrey's conduct during the French campaigns that speak of his daring - these obviously conform to the chivalric or military ideals but might also suggest that he felt he had something to prove.

Like, the one thing Hal could've done better for Humphrey to prepare him for a post-Hal world is more time acting as regent... but obviously, no one knew that Hal was going to die so suddenly. Most evidence suggests it was something of a shock. You can't blame someone for not knowing the future.

So, like, I think Humphrey could see himself in Henry VI, held back from taking on responsibility, from becoming his own man, and needing someone to push him. But Henry VI and others in his court don't seem to have wanted that and Humphrey's attempts to push him just seemed to have induced another round of in-fighting in the court. And maybe Humphrey went: what if I was better, what if I was more like Hal, what if Dad had thrown me in the deep end too and I ended up being more like Hal and Henry listened to me and he became more like Hal.

(which is not to say he wanted Henry to become a war criminal because war crimes as a concept didn't really exist; what he wanted was for Henry to be a good king and Hal was a good king.)

*Waurin puts a Duke of Gloucester at the Battle of Shrewsbury but since no one held the title at the time (and it's 10 years before Humphrey did have the title), it's not clear who Waurin meant. Humphrey would have only been 12 (going on 13) so while he was the right sort of age to be "blooded in warfare", he wouldn't have seen any fighting.

[onyxbird]

Vox Machina (Critical Role, Campaign 1), so... badly. Frankly not confident my house will still be intact when they're done. It might be so long as they don't find anything to fight, which they shouldn't in my house, but I'm still not confident. Also would not be surprised if things go missing.

Percy I'm sure grew up with servants responsible for that kind of thing. If he has since acquired house-cleaning experience, he's probably not eager to apply that to someone else's house and thinks it's beneath him, so he'll probably appoint himself as management. No one is actually going to listen to him. Maybe will tinker with the vacuum cleaner and make it run better or something.

Vex and Vax probably do have some level of hands-on experience with house-cleaning, at minimum from helping their mom when they were kids. It was in a D&D setting, so there might be a bit of a learning curve with tackling more modern-day stuff that they would never have seen before, but they probably have the knowledge to make a decent stab at it if they stay focused. They're not going to stay focused. They're going to get sidetracked by poking into all my stuff; they're going to bicker with or prank the others; they're going to start tasks, get distracted, switch tasks, and leave a trail of half-done stuff. Vax may bait Grog and/or Scanlan into hijinks that end up being the reason my house gets destroyed.

Grog likely won't be any more enthusiastic about cleaning than Percy is. But if someone does convince him to get invested, he'll do so according to logic that makes sense only to Grog. Voted most likely to put holes in my house.

Scanlan will be a disaster. He'll probably try to redecorate to his own tastes more than actually cleaning, and if he does clean, it may be a semi-experimental test of a spell that doesn't really turn out as planned. He might manage to inspire me to stay focused on cleaning for a bit, though, if I don't end up having to spend the inspiration trying to do damage control for whatever trouble the party inevitably starts. Presumably responsible for the nude portrait of a gnome that has appeared in the bathroom. (It's better than glowing blue poop, I guess?)

Keyleth will probably be the most enthusiastic by far, but I anticipate at least as much distraction as the twins, possible use of spells that don't quite work out as intended, and almost certainly getting side-tracked to talk to the cats. Especially because my cats are very vocal and clingy.

Pike would probably do a legitimately good job of cleaning and be lovely to work alongside of, but she was not present for the episodes I watched most recently, so I think I'm out of luck there.

The main characters in the last show or movie you watched now have to deep-clean your house for you. How does that go?

[no-code-chatbot-builder]

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[crispyfryenperu]

Another day another pet another

I haven’t updated the blog in what feels like ages, but when I look at my last post, little has changed.

Last week had incredible ups and downs. 

On Monday I had a higiene class in my main school. I worked with a new teacher and everything went well.  I went to schedule another event with the health post. As I walked out and to the plaza, I was lost in thought and walked a meter from a sleeping dog. At the last moment i looked down at it, we locked eyes, and he bit me. I walked straight back to the health post. Fortunately the bite wasn’t bad at all, and the nurses agreed. I washed it out at home and called my Peace Corps doctors. They said they would send me rabies vaccines. Then, since the electricity went out in the morning, and no one could work on their computers, it was a great opportunity to force a meeting with my counterparts about our project. We were able to solidify the dates of our food higiene classes. By evening, phone service was also gone. Like people in the 20th century,  I walked over to my friends house to see if she was home. We joked around, and I bought a homemade chocopecan Paneton from her in a really cute Calango box. I went home to watch my favorite show and taste the paneton. It was very good! Then my host Mom said that something happened. A few hours earlier she had found our cat dead under a wheelbarrow. 

What had happened to our dogs was HORRIBLE. And this felt horrible as well. I think my cat was sick, and that’s why she died. She had had TWO litters of kittens, and her body couldn’t handle it. We had plans to sterilize her, we were truly going to take her to the very next campaign. They often do different types of campaigns in Peru like sterilization of animals, COVID or flue vaccinations, or opportunities for eye tests and glasses. These campaigns cost usually 1/3 or 1/4 of what it would cost if you went to the doctor or vet on a normal day and booked an appointment. A couple months ago, i took our other cat, Negris aka Michicucho, to be sterilized in a campaign in a farther part of Mala. (They never do them in Calango) I hadn’t taken our other cat, the Michcucha, because she was pregnant at the time. So that’s how negligence killed our cat. Michicucha was a kitten who had just arrived to Calango at the same time I had. I thank her for all the time she spent with me and I’m sorry. Hindsight is 20/20 is true, but it’s obviously inexcusable to let someone you love (or anyone for that matter) die. 

The next day I had an 8 am meeting time to go check out the chlorine in all of our reservoirs with my socia. I woke up, iced my puffy eyes for 15 minutes, and ran out of the house. My socia put her raeggeton on in the truck, and danced furiously in the car (she wasn’t driving). The views from the reservoirs are beautiful. As usual, no one is disinfecting the water, only the Calango JASS.  I got back in time for another higiene class with fifth grade of high school. They were preparing Christmas desserts in groups, and presenting how they made them and maintained kitchen higiene. Funnily, I was their invited guest, so they directed their presentations towards me, and I was the first to try all the desserts. Crazy to say of any event in this chaotic school, but it was a lovely class. I spent the rest of the day writing invitation letters for my bosses who were coming to visit on Thursday, and feeding three kittens we had managed to keep. 

Wednesday I went to Mala to pick up my rabies shots, visited Nathy, and ate a delicious pizza. In Calango I  had one more higiene class. It felt like a disaster. We were making fruit salad following kitchen higiene. A teacher was having a Zoom meeting in the laboratory classroom, and we ended up having to work outdoors with no chalkboard. The girls automatically took control of the fruit salad, cutting and disinfecting. All of the boys in the class refused to help cut. I sent them to wash their hands, and another teacher angrily scolded them for starting a water fight and told me to watch my kids. They came back to the class, and finally I gave them some apples to cut - that is, if they wanted any of the fruit salad. They claimed they didn’t know how to cut, and when forced to cut, it truly did appear as if they have never cut an apple in their life. Well, they had better learn.

Finally the fruit salad was complete. The apples cut by the boys were set aside especially as a BOYS ONLY food (the girls didn’t want those crusty apples), and everyone was served in tupperwares that they each brought. (yay for the environment!) They put condensed milk and cereal on top. I brought whipped cream, and put a bit on top of everyone’s fruit salad. I was surprised they were extremely wary of the whipped cream - frosting exists here but whipped cream in a compressed can is unheard of! But everyone who tried it liked it. The students rushed to their next class and I sat with the Profesora eating our fruit salad. Despite the chaos, the fruit salad was deliciously worth it.  

Afterwards, I worked on my presentation of all my work in Calango. I stayed up until almost 2 am perfecting it, with way too many pictures. At 8 am I walked over to the municipality to prepare for my boss coming. There were three car accidents and she was 10 minutes late! But once she did get here, she wondered where the mayor was and said we would wait for him. While the mayor nor his second in command ever came down, they sent another worker down in “his representation.” I presented everything, we talked about our future plans, and people suggest some ideas for summer school classes. My boss them came over for lunch, and my host mom made us Calango apple juice and yuca a la olla - which is my favorite dish! After lunch my boss came to a higiene class with fifth grade of high school, and then she went back to Lima.

The highs on this day were realizing how much work and photos I had to show for myself in my presentation, as well as being grateful to all the friends, family, and coworkers here in Calango. The low was the number of participants who came to my meeting, mainly a few who told me they would come and didn’t. But those who did come were impressed and excited to work more closely.

I took a nap, and at 7 pm went back to the muni to meet up with the La Capilla JASS and discuss the water fee per family. This went well, I have been trying to work with the La Capilla JASS, which is brand new, for several months now. 

Friday I finally relaxed, but by 3 pm had to go back to La Capilla and finish working with them on the water fee and the annual budget for the water system. We didn’t have enough time before their general meeting, which began at 5 pm. But I explained to them what we needed to do, and how we would convince the public. The public/ the families, have to vote to approve a change in the water fee and to approve the annual budget. It’s very difficult to get them to raise the fee - even though they currently pay 6 soles PER month PER household (~1.7 USD)!! And we only want to raise the fee to 7 soles per month. I explained to them that it would be necessary to raise the fee very soon. by 7 pm, the municipality sent a car to pick me up, so I left the meeting after my speech. The meeting would go on for several more hours. 

At the start of this week, we fed 8 cats. We had previously had 13 cats but my host mom gave away 5 kittens. Why did we have this many? Well, we had one cat. Michicucha. Michicucha grew quickly and got pregnant quickly. From her litter we kept one cat, Negris. Then Michicucha got pregnant again. While pregnant, she brought around her husband, who began to steal food from our house. Then we found out that her husband, was actually another pregnant cat! So we continued giving her food. The friend then gave birth to 5 kittens in the back of the house. A week or so later, Michicucha gave birth to 6 little kittens in the backyard. They each took care of their own kittens. Cande gave away 5 kittens - it seemed to be 5 of the little ones (Michicucha’s Michicuchinos). then we had 6 kittens left. Cande put 3 of them in a cage to bathe them. The friend cat seemed to leave, and take the other three kittens with her. Then we had three kittens and one mom left, Michicucha. And of course, Negris. Then Michicucha passed away. Then at some point during the week, we found that a kitten had fallen in-between two tight walls of the house, and had also passed away. But somehow, we still had three kittens. THEN Thursday night an orange cat, never before seen, was prowling around our house. The kittens, even though they had food, shelter and water, followed this orange cat. And now we have only Negris. What a nightmare. Calango is in desperate need of animal control.

So that’s another week in the Peace Corps. There were a lot of great moments but they were accompanied by tragedy. Although many weeks are a struggle to find work, and to get kids to listen, they usually aren’t so sad. 

Where's the boy?

[intolerancecare]

Employee Grade

Grading is company based right? Employment and appointment are greatly affected by preference. What I don't like is for my capability to be equated or to be deemed less than their preferences. That's why I am nagging them of their incapabilities and laziness. Lack of initiative. See... who would respect me? I make mistake that's true, because I was obliged to do so many different things. It was difficult to revert.

We were all still banking at the student level of capacity when we worked, meaning most of us are new in the field. My reference of capability would be closest to student achievements. Supervisor? really?

Mine would be validated by Carissa. If Tim yap's, theory my family and my barkada (group of friends). And my colleagues from my first job.

They left me because the only thing that I know is right? Right, they don't understand the leftist trainer. At least I'm a trainer the others are neither right nor left.

I told this to a zup before, she asked me if my work is fun. I said I'm a jack of all trades, master of none. Just thinking Go figure. I had a different team, when they started leaving, I searched for the Job description again. Just imagine my yes, extreme anger after knowing that there is a JD in my files. I don't remember receiving and I know that it wasn't the JD that I knew. I tried to stay at the training department a few times. The answer is always no. Only when they summon. But the officer does not have a system. No ICT. A proof that he has created a training plan. Materials, tools. He only had a programme for tours. Applicable for visitors only. Not customized for new joiners. Quality? Where? delivering the ICT sent by the brand? I was a participant. Who had it next? 10 folds of staff can join that training maybe I'm wrong, if it's for the supervisor level, two batches maybe. Why once only? Same as the company? The trainings there are not brand base. They are assessment, CS, Selling, training, supervisory and managerial training. Participants can be chosen randomly. And most of them are repeated right? Quality? better than us in the till? I saw his performance rating 100. How many times did he try? not sure if once or twice. Yes, the doubtful me will say twice. You know what's the issue? He jumped off at us. the trainers and the Amb. With lack of experience the quality lies on his talent. Output would be for the experienced. The position that he got is for experienced trainer. If not, he is just our secretary. Who is his boss? just Imagine my alarm whenever I see a new part timer on the floor. Not oriented or maybe they did but what was told to them? Anything impromptu is informal. How to formalize? Visual aids. Without that we are just like ordinary employees asked to passed info to their colleagues. They don't want to validate us? I am also not satisfied with my performance. But what to do yani? I was busy working on the floor then he'll call me to meet a trainee. How can you change character in split seconds? Because this is a routine? of who? The CS? The Zup? The SA? The Trainer? The Training officer? The Internal Customer? Even the labor management task has been part of my job. I am a nuisance? Can you compare my performance on my first 6 months or 1 year to your preferences? First 3 months can be too. I am very particular with my performance. My skepticism arises from the fact that I really have a high standard. Something that at times hard for me to do. What to do? I've been with smart people. Kindly remove my trainees.

I failed during my first hosting stint at the brand's first promotional campaign? I was waiting for a programme. What comes next after introducing the roles? Someone can take over the stage if it was plainly my stupidity. Mina delivered it better? He spoke in their language. He probably talked 5 minutes longer than I did. That's it. What happened next? Nothing. Did they forget that my audience were kids with special needs? How can there be interaction when a song was not even prepared to be played, so some can sing along and the mascots can dance. I took the bullet. Sorry, you might know this, but this is my most infamous mistake if you'll remove what happened after I left.

You've seen what happened when I organized a program right? I hosted. I briefed Kuya Antonio and he briefed Amiedel. I think we even write it down. The script was easy because it was a parody of a popular show. The plan was executed. I had a small glitch with the content, but I think it's permissible or to simply describe, It happens.

You didn't watch right? You should have seen the reaction of the devil. Such insensitivity. He is effing skill less compared to me. That reaction was claiming territory, right? to what? Anything that is not his. Not even belittling me, he has no right.

Choosing templates and slides, sound effects, animation, programme...

First 3 months, my mileages if I need to be compared. H&M really? ates and kuyas?

I was wrong for not directly asking for a certificate.

Only one per family? So, I am really bound to be a dependent? Do you know that Philippines is greatly influenced by America? Worse, poverty line here is bigger. We don't have inheritance.

BTW did somebody gave away paperless copy of scripts? One of my delusions.

[sonicenvy]

initial thoughts on the latest tr**p indictment:

Holy shit there are 161 acts of conspiracy under the Georgia RICO act (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations act). That's a lot of acts of conspiracy and racketeering for team orange man. This document lays out the conspiracy as a full on criminal organization.

There is SO much harassment involved in this thing. Holy shit these fools harassed a lot of people, but none worse than poor Ruby Freeman the election worker in Fulton county who was mercilessly harassed by the conspirators both in person and via telephone, and who was intimidated and lied to by the conspirators in an attempt to make her falsely testify that she had committed crimes that she did not commit. They sent one woman to talk to Freeman's neighbors who claimed to be a crisis manager that wanted to help Freeman. WTF.

In addition to the harassment of Freeman, the conspirators harassed via telephone various members of state legislators in Georgia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Arizona and Nevada, trying to get them to commit election crimes. Many of them wisely let this nonsense go to voicemail.

HIS EMAILS!!!! (and voicemails. and text messages. and tweets. and documents. they got it all babey). Hillary Rodham Clinton must be feeling vindicated 2night.

as @fantastic-nonsense pointed out to me, Rudy Giuliani getting fucked up by RICO is hilarious because he was previously famous for using RICO against the Five Families of New York. lmaoooooo

That one AZ house rep going, "I voted for you. I worked for you. I campaigned for you. I just won't do anything illegal for you." in response to trump calling him to ask him to illegally appoint electors. you know you're fucking up bad when other republicans turn their back on you.

Trump saying "when the right answer comes out you'll be praised," to Georgia SOS chief investigator Watson, vis a vie the investigation into the Fulton county election. hmmm sure sounds like something the head of a criminal conspiracy would say to someone....

Also to Watson, "Is there a way to speed up Fulton county signature verification in order to have results before Jan 6 if the trump campaign assist financially?" sure does sound like you're trying to bribe someone to fix an investigation in your favour doesn't it????

So. Many. Crimes.

The fact that there are 30 other unnamed individuals involved in the conspiracy ooof. That's a whole organization right there babey!

Reading this I am spiritually following the example of those IL dems who brought popcorn to the house floor to continue watching McCarthy's failed speaker votes and republican dumbassery.

Literally all of these lies that these fools were peddling and testifying to in front of legislatures and legislators are so fucking dumb and idiotic y'all. there is an exactly ZERO percent chance they actually believed all of this stuff. they 100% lied. knowingly. and we all know that. and they have the receipts.

In conclusion:

Georgia, please be the hero that I know you can be and freeze trump's assets and put him in pre-trial detention. do one for the team.