#we stopped that campaign for now at least which is an F

[thelazybard]

I'm not sure if you know anything about Delta Squad. But perhaps can I request Bad Batch x Fem Padawan reader who was first adopted by Delta Squad and when order 66 happened she was recused by Bad Batch, after attempting to use the force to stop them from harming her.

DELTA SQUAD MENTION RAAAAH!!

What a great first request!

This is gonna be a long one so buckle in

F!Reader x Bad Batch: Being saved from Order 66

warnings: Order 66, slight canon divergence, character death, Crosshair never follows Order 66, betrayal, angst, hurt/comfort, use of force speed because why did we never see that after Episode One, light fluff

This can't be happening.

What was even happening?

One second you and Delta Squad are on Kaller celebrating the death of General Grievous and the seeming end of the Clone War. The next, you're running as fast as you can, as far as you can, away from your squad; your family, who are now doing everything they can to find and destroy you.

You were Master Shaak Ti's padawan, and once helped her oversee the prowess of the clone army. But soon the war effort called you off-world to lead a special force of clone commandos. Master Shaak saw this as a way to know for certain if you were ready to be Knighted, since you were an adult now.

Boss, Scorch, Sev, and Fixer were apart of Delta Squad, and looked to you for guidance as their Commander. It was unnerving at first, being away from your master's calming presence and not being able to seek her guidance at a moment's notice.

But, you eventually proved your worth as a commander, and soon a knight. At least you would have if there was an Order to return to after this last mission.

You will never forget, Sev was the first to draw his rifle on you. At first you thought it was some distasteful joke. You weren't a stranger to your squad's pranks.

But when you sensed his index finger curl, and heard the faintest tick of his trigger being drawn back, you couldn't help the reflex of igniting your saber and swinging the blaster bolt back into your opponent's shoulder.

Sev had cried out, and even to this day his cry echos through your mind in the late of night.

Then the others drew your weapons and that's when you ran. You refused to fight them. Not because you couldn't, but because you wouldn't. They were your friends, your brothers. You lead them through their first campaign on Geonosis, laughed with them, cried with them. Celebrated victories and healed their wounds.

Clone Force 99 found you cornered between Delta Squad and the icy canyon below the ridge you stood on.

"Just stay back! Please!" You pleaded, lightsaber drawn and eyes glossed over with tears. You weren't in fear for yourself, but instead afraid of what you'd have to do to ensure your survival.

They weren't speaking to you. Why weren't they speaking to you?

"We've got her now, boys. Open fire on the target." Boss said to his brothers.

It was with those words that it was finally able to register in your head.

Something definitely happened, that was for certain. They were given orders from someone that superseded you. If that was the case, nothing you could say or do would stop them from completing their mission. You damned their unwavering loyalty before you sprung into action.

You'd always held back when sparring with your brothers. You were quicker, stronger, and could see their moves before they made them. You never let them win, only kept up with them until they grew tired, which granted took a while. But now it was life or death, you understood that now as you sliced their rifles in half, blocked their punches and parried their melee attacks before even they knew what they were moving to do.

The Batch watched the scene unfold from the treeline, still unsure of whose side they should be taking. Echo advocated stepping in right away on your behalf, but the jury was still out with the rest. Besides, it didn't look like you needed help.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. The Jedi were trustworthy, no? Especially the padawan of Shaak Ti.

They knew you in passing. You've interacted with the batch a few times, usually just accompanying Shaak Ti during their assessments. The Batch teased each other for their crush on you, and had taken every chance they could to pass you in the sterile hallways on Kamino. Now, that beautiful, calming padawan was fighting for her life.

In this moment you were other-worldly. It was nearly impossible for the batch to keep track of your form weaving through the four supersoldiers, blocking their attacks as you still clung to hope they'd come to their senses.

"She's not just killing them." Crosshair said.

"She doesn't want to." Echo replied.

Hunter had heard through the grapevine of padawan Ahsoka's alleged treason, that was later learned to be false. Could it be the same, here?

When Hunter finally finished mulling it over and called for CF-99 to aid you, they dove through the shrubs to stun your opponents while their attention was still fixated on you.

You watched in shock as Delta Squad's bodies crumbled to the ground around you, not realizing what happened until you saw the clones at the treeline.

"Commander," Hunter greeted you, worry wrinkling his brow.

"Sergeant. They tried to kill me! What is happening?" You asked.

"That's what we're trying to find out. But it isn't safe for you here."

"It doesn't appear it is safe for her anywhere," Tech interjected, eyes fixated on his datapad. "It says here the Jedi Order had commit treason against the Republic, and we are to eliminate all targets under Order 66."

"Treason? The entire Jedi Order? What could be the... Fives!" You breathed, your fingers draping over your mouth.

"Fives what?" Echo asked.

"He tried to warn me about a plot against the Jedi. I wanted to believe him, but before he could prove it he was–" You sighed and shook your head, sheathing your saber so you could dig the heels of your palms into your temples as the world you once knew was flipped upside down.

"We have to get you out of here. If the other clones planetside know you're here they'll try to..." Hunter said.

"I understand. It seems I will have to–" You nearly doubled over as an unfamiliar senstation dug through you like a vibroblade.

The tether between you and Shaak Ti was severed. She was killed.

You regained your footing with the help of Wrecker who steadied you.

"Master Ti. They- they killed her."

Hunter sensed regs closing in on your location. "Come on. We have to go, now!" He barked.

Running alongside the batch, tears streamed across your cheeks as you grappled with the fact that Master Ti, the woman who raised you, taught you, protected you, was cut down and you weren't there to stop it. Or at least die with her.

You boarded the Maurader and Echo helped you into a seat as you were overcome with emotions. Emotions you were taught to supress spilled out of you with the wound Shaak Ti's death left. Your shoulders quivered as you sobbed softly to yourself.

You were sad, angry, and scared.

"Take me to the nearest planet that doesn't have a Republic nor Separatist occupation," You finally said when the tears subsided. "I can't return to Kamino. I must hide until I figure out what is happening."

Tech nodded before keying in coordinates and making the jump to hyperspace. It would be a few days before you arrived, so it was time to get comfortable with your company.

Hunter:

The Clone Sergeant didn't know what to say to you for the first few hours.

Partly because he'd never conversed with you one-on-one and was nervous to talk to the pretty Jedi that was the object of his affections for the past few years.

Your entire squad just betrayed you. He couldn't imagine how that must feel. He didn't want to.

At first, every time he looked at you he was reminded of his greatest fear, and couldn't face it.

Eventually he decided he had to say something, gazing at your form curled up in a seat, seeming far away.

It wasn't until Crosshair literally shoved him in your direction did he finally approach you.

"Uhh, Commander... I... can't imagine what you're going through right now. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?" He asked.

"Thank you," You replied, voice small and strained now as you try to grapple your emotions.

"And, for what it's worth... You fought well. I think Delta Squad is lucky to have such a commander. I'm sorry they betrayed you. You won't get that from us."

You smiled at him and his heart stopped.

He wasn't sure of where you'd end up after they took you somewhere safe, but he was determined to cross paths with you again.

Echo:

Echo has the most experience out of the batch when it comes to working with Jedi. He understood their overall nature; Kind, calm, wise.

You were no different. It's why he was picking his brain for any reason clones would be ordered to murder you.

Echo knew you before his accident. It was your faith in him and the rest of Domino Squad that drove him to work together with his team. He'd been smitten with you ever since.

"Are you alright?" He asked, coming to sit across from you.

You looked up at him, and his chest tightened as the two of you made real, undivided eye contact with each other for the first time in years. Your eyes were wiser now, even while saddened.

"I'm... shaken. And trying to cope with the fact that I will have to leave everything I've known if it means I'll survive."

"You've still got us," Echo offered. "We don't really know what's going on either, but you can trust us. You can trust me."

"Thank you, Echo."

"Anytime. I... appreciate, all you've done for me and my brothers in the past. It's the least I can do for you now."

You reached over to touch his hand that rested in his lap, and he only froze a little. The look you then gave him when your eyes met again was a look he'd never soon forget.

Wrecker:

After a day of being on the Maurader with you, Wrecker knew he wanted to cheer you up. But he wasn't sure how.

He started with offering you his favorite flavor of ration bar, which you politely declined. Not much of an appetite.

Nodding, he left and returned with Lula, making her dance around you as he hummed a tune, and eventually bonked you on the head with the plushie to provoke a laugh.

His brothers told him to leave you alone but you assured them it was fine.

You liked Wrecker. He was silly and said what was on his mind.

His humorous way of cheering you up seemed to be working.

He crouched down to your level, looking up at you to meet your eyes and smiled. "C'mon Commander, let's hear that pretty laugh." He said.

He thinks it's pretty?

You thought back to your handful of interactions, and found you had chuckled a few times here and there.

This encouraged a soft giggle out of you.

"Thank you, Wrecker. I really needed that."

"Anytime, Commander."

Tech:

Tech has never seen anyone cry before. Not really, anyways.

He's seen people cry in the holofilms, and knew it was something you did when you were sad.

But Clones were in many ways emotionally stunted, even moreso Tech.

So watching you cry, well... it stirred something in his chest he'd never quite felt before.

He knew you were sad, that much was clear.

But how do you comfort someone who's crying!

"Don't fret. Your tears are simply a pathological response made to relieve some of the traumatic stress you may be feeling." Tech explained sagely as he sat beside you.

"That's... good to know, Tech. Thank you."

He then passed you a ration bar. "Here you must eat. You will need your Jedi strength."

His unconventional way of displaying his affection was oddly charming. Doting on you like a mother hen while also explaining the science behind your emotions in painful detail to alleviate your worry.

Crosshair:

You'd always seen through Crosshair's stoic, brooding demeanor.

You knew there was a storm of thoughts and feelings swirling around that noodle of his.

There was so much he was thinking at any point in time, so much he could say.

And he knew you knew. Everytime you two locked eyes, he felt you looking right through him into something more than what met the eye.

It was unnerving. He didn't like being seen in that way. Mostly because he didn't know what it'd entail.

Your eyes were duller now after what transpired, like you yourself had built up your walls into your own psyche.

It was like a thorn in his heart, not being able to see you like he did. So that's what it felt like.

He wanted to be let in.

"Need an ear?" He offered when it was just you two aboard the ship.

He didn't mean to startle you right as you exited the refresher after your sonic shower, but it was on his mind since he saw you disappear to freshen up.

"What?" You said, eyes alert suddenly.

"If you need to talk, I'll listen." He reiterated more clearly this time.

You looked down, shoulders shrugging weakly. "I'm not even sure what I want to say that would help."

He nodded his head in the direction of the cockpit and you followed him to sit in the pilot chairs.

"Maybe it won't fix anything, but it will at least be off your chest."

You exhaled through your mouth, then nodded.

"I just can't believe... I was close to them. They were my brothers. I thought that no matter what, they wouldn't..." You began.

Cross listened intently to your grievances, nodding to let you know he was listening, humming occasionally. Finding out more about your personality in the process.

Finally, when you couldn't find anything else to add, you wiped your tears and sat back, sighing deeply.

He was right, it at least helped with the cinderblock weight on your chest grief gave you.

"Thank you, Crosshair." You said.

He looked into your orbs, then to the swirl of blue and white that was hyperspace. "Get some rest. You can have my bunk, I changed the linens this morning." He said.

Sorry if this took too long, I just really liked this idea and the words came spilling out.

[slugcatmusings]

What is the Rot? Why is the Rot?

Spoiler Warning and Holy Wall of Text Batman Warning. I got WAY too into questioning the turbo-cancer here, hopefully my rambling makes sense.

So, the Rot is… weird, from a biological standpoint. Really weird, if you stop to think about it. It’s most frequently described as some variation of cancer, and it certainly fits the criteria for it. Caused by damage to DNA? Check. Multiplies uncontrollably? Check. Comes in both benign and malignant forms, one stationary and the other mobile? Big fat check. Heck, even the Rot cysts eating other creatures kind of fits, according to some research I’ve done – there are apparently cancer cells that will eat other cells, which makes sense in hindsight since cancer cells are cells that have lost important genetic restrictions, which may include whatever lets cells identify other cells as “do not eat.”

(I ain’t a biology whiz and I’m doing research on the fly while getting my thoughts out here, so take whatever I say about biology with a grain of salt)

So, Rot is clearly cancer of some kind, right? Case closed. Except when me and a friend of mine were talking Rain World theories on Discord, she brought up some interesting points that got me thinking.

First point: Rot cells obviously mutate in a way that affects FAR more than just cell replication and termination. Some of the cysts can HEAR. As far as I know, cells in the body do not hear sounds. They communicate via chemical signals and maybe, MAYBE react to temperature. Hearing involves complicated, specialized sensory apparatus to pick up on vibrations in the air. Even if you simplify it and say that it’s only vibrations, that’s STILL a multicellular thing, not a single-cell thing. It’s something that took millions of years to evolve on Earth, if not billions.

And while Rain World’s timeline goes on for long enough that it those kinds of mutations might happen eventually, Rot cysts have the ability to hear pretty much right from the start – because even the Proto-Long-Legs react to your presence like the Daddy Long Legs do, and the Rot in Spearmaster’s campaign, where Pebbles has recently contracted it, reacts the same way as it does in later campaigns. It’s already able to hear.

As far as I know, cancer just means the same cell duplicating over and over again. Are more mutations possible with each division, as errors are made in the DNA during splitting? Probably. But not to THAT extent. There’s no way a lump of cancer somehow mutated the exact complicated genetic blueprint needed to grow organs, at least not without outside interference.

Second point: Cases of Rot are way too consistent across the board. Now, we don’t have a huge sample size to work from, but from what we see from both Pebbles’ Rot, and Hunter Long Legs, they’re… pretty similar. Hunter Long Legs is basically a mobile Rot cyst. They move the same way, seem to grow the same way (starts as a growth inside/on the body before eventually freeing itself from whatever wall/flesh it grew from in some capacity and moving elsewhere), they have the same senses, and they even eat the same way, via something like phagocytosis (how white blood cells “eat” invading organisms via engulfing them and breaking them down in a sac in their main “body.”)

Now, this doesn’t tell us much, because cancer, when it does emerge, is pretty consistent in symptoms/what the mutated cells do once they start replicating. It’s pretty much the same regardless of whatever organism the cancer is happening in. But what ISN’T consistent is what causes the DNA error in the cancer cell in the first place. IRL, cancer can be caused by all kinds of things – smoking, radiation poisoning, being out in the sun too long, drinking deadly chemicals and whatnot, anything that damages DNA. But in RW, the only time we ever hear Rot talked about, or see it present, is in the context of an iterator having f*cked up while mucking around with DNA. Pebbles was trying to create an organism that could change his own genome, and No Significant Harassment created Hunter as a messenger and probably mucked something up in the process in his haste to get them to Moon.

This doesn’t mean that there aren’t other causes of it, of course, we’re working with a sample size of two in an apocalyptic world with who knows how much potentially DNA-damaging stuff around, but… that’s still awfully consistent.

So, combining these points and everything we know to be canon, Rot is:

an organism that lives inside another organism

Until a certain condition is met, it cannot harm said host organism.

Once said condition is met, it goes out of control, wreaking havoc on the organism’s systems and mutating, giving it sensory capabilities and an appetite

Said condition is apparently someone messing up when re-arranging genomes, in yourself or others

It is widespread across multiple different species, at least iterators and slugcats but potentially other species as well.

Once you have a bad case of it, it is apparently NOT CURABLE. Pebbles tried everything he could think of but apparently exhausted all of his options by the time of the Survivor/Monk campaigns.

So, with all the context FINALLY laid out, here’s my wild theory: Rot isn’t a cancer. It’s a symbiote turned parasite. Specifically, I believe it’s a symbiotic microbe that lives inside the cells that make up every other creature in Rain World, and is held in check by a specific gene that all species share, and altering or getting rid of that gene causes it to go berserk, taking over and eventually mutating the host cells.

Yeah, I did watch Parasite Eve let’s plays as a kid, why do you ask? Anyway, hear me out here.

There is precedence for single-celled organisms living inside of other single-celled organisms. They’re referred to as intracellular endosymbiots (hopefully I got the spelling right there), and the most well-known one is probably the mitochondria. The powerhouse of the cell is thought to be descended from some bacteria way, WAY back that was engulfed by a larger cell and not only survived it, but BENEFITED from it. Since then those ancient proto-mitochondria and eukaryotic cells have mutually evolved to be dependent on each other. So it’s entirely possible for something similar to have happened in Rain World.

However, I don’t think it happened NATURALLY, here. Because something that’s able to take over a cell entirely and begin wildly mutating it is NOT something your average cell wants inside of it. There’s a VERY high chance of extinction if you do that. Which means that of course those funky bio-tech loving Ancients either took a look at a wildly dangerous cellular parasite and went “hmmm we can use this�� or made one themselves.

Why did they do this? Who knows! Currently, I’m tied between “they needed a better powerhouse for the cell to power the various weird adaptations they’re building into various creatures,” “there was some sort of disease that this parasite gave immunity against and they wanted to make use of it,” and “it gave their creations massively powerful regeneration factors that made them much easier to maintain.” Possibly it was all three. Whatever the reason, the Ancients either found or created this parasite, and put it into their creations’ cells, hoping to reap the benefits.

Well, they got the benefits, but they also got a microbe that hijacked the cells and harnessed their pre-existing DNA blueprints to build organisms disguised as great big blobs of cancer. Which is not exactly ideal, but hey, they just had to figure out a way of keeping the cell hijacking from happening! And the way they ended up going about it was to alter the thing so that so long as there was a specific DNA sequence in the cell, it laid mostly dormant. All the benefits, none of the risks – so long as that specific string of genes remained intact.

And then BECAUSE it was so beneficial, they spread their artificial symbiote and it’s genetic reins throughout ALL of their creations, from the smallest pipe-cleaning slugs to the iterators. Which meant that as their purposed organisms replaced most of the original ecosystem, they spread the symbiote as well. Thus making it possible for pretty much ANY creature on the planet to come down with a bad case of the Rot. And with the iterators, I wouldn’t be surprised if this symbiote is tied to their self-destruction taboos. Try to cross yourself out? Well, it’s gonna maybe happen now, but it’ll be a slow painful death as you’re eaten alive from the inside and all your own parts turn against you, so was it really worth it?

And they never told their creations this perhaps even actively hid it, because why tell them the cause of the main deterrent to them mucking with their taboos? They might find a way around it. The iterators were left ignorant of how Rot works, and because of this they never figured out that Rot HAD a cure after all: rebuilding that genome that reins in the symbiote. Because why in the name of the Void would they repeat the same mistakes that gave them Rot in the first place, and potentially make it worse?

[beatrice-otter]

I really like John Scalzi's analysis of the whole wtfery of this. (I'm not a great fan of his books, I think he's really overrated as a novelist, but his political commentary and commentary on the SF/F world is interesting.)

I think he has a good point about how while the initial panic about his bad performance at the debate was genuine (and if he'd done better, he'd never have withdrawn), but also that once there was panic, he decided how to manage things to maximize Harris' chances at both getting the nomination and winning the election.

Consider that the announcement was made on the Sunday after the Republican National Convention, and after the Sunday morning political talk shows were put to bed, i.e., after the GOP political capital was spent slagging Biden, and when professional spinners would be caught flat-footed by the announcement. Biden’s news was quickly followed by his endorsement of Kamala Harris, which in turn was followed by a flood of endorsements for Harris across the Democratic political firmament, effectively slamming the door on any serious challenge to Harris at the upcoming Democratic National Convention. If you think something like that just happens spontaneously, well, one, bless your heart, and two, you’re wrong. This was a work, a rope-a-dope, and a strategy to energize the Democratic base and to toss what little momentum the GOP had coming out of their convention down a deep, dark hole. And it worked! Harris raised an huge amount of money for her campaign in its first day — $49 million at least, and I’ve heard up to $70 million — and the GOP messaging was in disarray, limited largely to Trump whining on Truth Social, Stephen Miller freaking out on Fox News, and Mike Johnson trying to suggest that the Democrats can’t do that, it isn’t fair. Which is just what the Democrats wanted out of this. ... The current iteration of the GOP has been mask-off racist and sexist for some time, and Donald Trump sets the tone for the party on this score. Be expecting the whole array of nonsense from them, from dog whistles to flat out racist and sexist shit, said out loud, and also all over the former Twitter by Trump’s pet fascists and/or Russian bots. I guarantee you it will be nothing Kamala Harris has not heard before, but you might see a couple of new ones. The GOP outsourced their policy making to The Heritage Foundation with its Project 2025, which is already deeply unpopular, probably because it’s terrible for anyone who is not already a billionaire cryptofascist with a cross fetish. The GOP can’t go after Harris on policy grounds, and Trump doesn’t do policy anyway. So expect endless variations of she’s an uppity black woman for the next several months. ... Also, Biden has manifestly changed the narrative around both himself and his presidency. I didn’t want him to stop running for re-election, but choosing to do so allows for a “country over self” positioning that’s a hugely effective contrast to Trump’s “I’m running to avoid prison and to get revenge” narrative. It also allows a fresh reframing of the Biden administration’s achievements and accomplishments, and positions Harris to say she will continue them. Biden can lean into the whole “Grandpa Joe” thing now, and have it seen as a positive rather than a negative. ... To put it another way, after eight years, we know what the hard cap is on Trump’s support. We don’t know what the cap is yet for Harris’ support. History does suggest that cap is higher than Trump’s.

[whatevergreen]

Stop Arming Israel

Yesterday (December 16) UK MPs debated petitions signed by over 100,000 people, calling for the immediate revocation of all arms export licences to Israel and 283,000 calling for the recognition of a Palestinian state, which were delivered before the general election

Since last October, at least 45,000 in Gaza have been murdered by Israel, in which Britain has been complicit through supplying arms.

In September, the Labour government eventually banned 30 out of 361 licences in a move labelled “tokenistic” by campaigners.

During the debate, Labour MP John McDonnell said: “I think history will judge us all for not doing enough to stop this.”

The former shadow chancellor said that while he was pleased that the petition is taking place “there’s a level of frustration now I don’t think we can contain any more.”

He asked: “Why isn’t democracy being exercised here to stop this?”

Mr McDonnell concluded: “I've had enough of coming back here every week, as you can tell chair, we need action now from this government.”

Among the exports excluded from Labour’s ban are components for F-35 war planes, which have been used to drop 2,000lb bombs on civilians in Gaza and are linked to a global supply programme.

Business and trade select committee chair Liam Byrne said: “Last week in front of my committee, the Defence Minister said it was technically possible to track these parts, but it was contractually impossible.

“Indeed, Lockheed Martin supplied me with a letter to say that if I want to know anything about the parts, I need to address our queries to the Department of Defence in the United States.“

He noted that the government admitted in the High Court in November that it continued to export the parts despite knowing there was a “clear risk” that they could be used by Israel to violate international humanitarian law.

“We now have the ICJ advisory, we have the ICC arrest warrants. We have the government’s own assessment,” Mr Byrne said.

“I cannot now see how this government can legally defend a position to keep these arms export licences open.”

Ahead of the debate, a cross-party of MPs including Independent Jeremy Corbyn, the Green Party’s Carla Denya, and Labour’s Diane Abbott held a banner reading “Stop Arming Israel” outside Parliament to show their support for a full arms embargo.

Palestine Solidarity Campaign director Ben Jamal said: “Opinion polls have shown that a majority of the public support the suspension of UK arms sales to Israel, because it is using them in a barbaric, unending assault on Palestinians in Gaza.

“We call on all MPs to speak up and ensure the government fulfils its obligations under international law, starting with a full arms embargo on Israel.”

Campaign Against Arms Trade media co-ordinator Emily Apple said: “Labour’s tokenistic suspension of some arms exports doesn’t go nearly far enough — but in particular its refusal to suspend the open licence for F-35 combat jet components makes this government just as complicit in Israel’s horrific war crimes as the previous Conservative government.

“Successive governments have prioritised arms dealers’ profits over Palestinian lives.

“This has to stop. This petition is an attempt to ensure the government does what it should have done in the first place — suspend all arms exports to Israel and uphold international humanitarian law.”

A spokesperson for Stop the War said: “It’s welcome that this petition is finally being debated, having been conveniently buried by the parliamentary system earlier this year, but given that just a fortnight after Labour won the election senior ministers warned that a total ban on arms sales to Israel would undermine US ‘confidence’ in the UK, the outcome is fairly predictable.

“While public opinion is loud and clear, this immoral government remains seemingly determined to ignore it.” Elizabeth Short Adapted from: https://morningstaronline.co.uk/article/time-to-listen-labour-stop-arming-israel

Arms for Israel secretly shipped through UK airspace Exclusive: Over 50 tonnes of munitions have been flown to Israel over Britain since Gaza bombing began:

https://www.declassifieduk.org/arms-for-israel-secretly-shipped-through-uk-airspace/

[fe-fictions]

Could you do a little fic with Frederick x F!Robin 🥺? Pretty please 👉👈? Maybe one where Freddy gets really really sick and Robin is just scared because like, you know, she loves him so much, and what can you do when your stuck on a military campaign in the middle of nowhere and your husbands near dead with fever

(I have been working on this story for the last few months...enjoy 18 pages of angst and fluff and sniffling Freddybear ;;; U ;;; )

Frederick did not get sick. His immune system was impeccably strong; practically impenetrable to any disease or virus that would seek to bring him down.

You believed Lissa’s fervent stories about how Frederick would clear a cold with a single sneeze; seeing how your husband took such meticulous care of his help suggested he was as healthy as the myths foretold.

You had only been married a short while; a little over six months, following the few months courtship after you were found.

So it was very new; but it was also the only life you knew. Frederick had quickly gone from being a distrusting nuisance to the one constant in your life.

He was always there with a smile, a kiss or a squeeze of your hand. His patience was unending, and his compassion for your struggles with amnesia was unwavering. There was no normal without Frederick by your side.

But when the journey to Ferox led to a blizzard on top of a blizzard, it was only natural that not everyone in the encampment could weather the cold.

Vaike caught a bad flu first; of course he did, what with insisting on wearing as little warm clothing as possible to show off his glorious body.

Miriel would chastise him as she treated him, though there was very little one could do to sotp help the body heal from natural illness.

Injuries? Sure. Sickness caused by your own stupidity? Not so much.

Chrom quickly set the Shepherds to work to try and stop the sickness from spreading, but the measures he was taking weren’t good enough. There was still a bit of a journey to the nearest village, before reaching the capital city.

For now, everyone was to shelter in place and try their very best to get the fires burning high and hot. With hearty stew prepared for dinner and thick blankets distributed to the soldiers, it seemed like survival from the cold would be successful.

The darkness had made it difficult to tell just what time it is, but you were just exhausted. The final evening counsel had concluded, and you hurried back to the tent. Frederick assured you he’d follow once he finished checking over each of the fires in camp..

A task which normally took about half an hour, seemed to be taking much longer. You busied yourself with insulating the tent (as he carefully taught you), and had a small orb of fire floating safely in the center of the tent.

It was like a personal haven of heat…and you didn’t want to leave it.

At least, not until the tent flap opened, letting in a howl of cold air.

“Frederick, quickly!” You gasped, motioning for him to latch it shut. “It’ll take ages to reheat the tent!!”

“Forgive me, my dear,” Frederick’s voice was trembling as he shivered despite himself. “I am feeling slightly more tired than I realized.”

“You? Tired? Impossible.” You laughed some, but regarded him just the same, eyebrows raised. “You don’t think it’s the weather, do you? Neither of us are really built to withstand freezing temperatures like this…maybe it’s having an impact on your health.”

“My health is fine, as always.” He dismissed the very thought as he loosened the straps of his armor. “I am simply tired from making sure our campfires will last the night. Not all of us know how to do this warming enchantment, after all.”

“If it didn’t cost so much mana, I would cast it for everyone’s tents.” You agreed, rising to help him place the armor on its stand.

“We do need you to preserve as much as possible.” He agreed, “But I suppose I can allow it for our personal tent…for now.”

“Even the strict Lieutenant Frederick deserves to indulge every now and then.” You grinned, passing him his nightshirt before returning to the bedding.

“I suppose it is an indulgence, but the warmth is quite welcome…Ferox feels particularly biting this time of year.”

“Hmm. Cordelia said it’s actually much milder than usual. Which is saying something, given it feels like the temperature’s in the negatives.” You said with a shiver, but Frederick did not seem to notice.

Slowly, Frederick finished his nighttime routine and settled into bed with you, wishing you goodnight with a kiss. But something was…off. Your brow furrowed, making a small noise when your lips parted.

“Darling? You’re…rather warm. Do you feel all right?”

Frederick took a moment to process your words, but seemed unaffected. “I am sure it is only the tent. Come morning I’m sure my body temperature will drop the second we step outside. We should…rest.”

Frederick was asleep in the span of a few breaths. You shook your head, subconsciously noting that his body heat seemed to rise as you followed into slumber.

With a yawn and a stretch, you faced the next morning well-rested and plenty warm. That heating spell was a true work of art; you made a note to figure out methods to expand it to benefit all of the Shepherds.

The dim light seeping into the tent suggested it was just after dawn; time to get ready to face the day. But when you shifted to get up, something solid touched your back on the bedroll.

You turned to find Frederick still asleep beside you.

“What in the name of- Frederick? My love?” You reached for his face, feeling heat simmer beneath your fingertips. Too much heat.

“Frederick.” You called him again, a little firmer, and pushed on his shoulder. His breath was shallower, and he wasn’t responding to you.

“Freddybear, it’s past time to get up. You’re not going to have time to set all the fires!” You pressed, and that seemed to do the trick.

Frederick groaned, squeezing his eyes before they slowly fluttered open. “Mmnh…Robin…?”

“Good morning, sleepyhead. You’re quite late for your morning tasks. Shall I take care of them so you can rest?” If he was feeling unwell enough to sleep through the first hour of his day, then…

“That’s all right, Robin. I do appreciate the offer.” He dismissed you, rising slowly from his back and starting to stand.

There was a mild dizziness in his steps, as though disoriented from waking up. It had you on your feet behind him, placing a steadying hand to the small of his back.

“My dear, I don’t think you should do anything today. You’re looking a bit unwell, and the last thing I want is-”

“Nonsense. I have never once gotten ill; I am in peak condition, as always.”

“Then why are your eyes so glassy? And why are you struggling to keep your balance?”

“My oversleeping has simply left me disoriented.” He shook his head, “I know my body, Robin. If there is something wrong, I will not ignore it.”

“Unless something more important than your health happens, first.” You sighed, to which Frederick averted his gaze. Guilty as charged. “I know you, Frederick. You have a track record nearly as long as my own that shows you’d rather die than forget to polish Chrom’s sword for the fifth time.”

“I suppose that is true, but you forget that I have had a significant change in my personal life that impacts those odds.”

“And what might that be?” Your hands were on your hips, unconvinced. Frederick smiled softly, closing the distance between you to run handsome fingers along the side of your face.

“I recently married a very caring, attentive woman, whose opinion I value deeply.”

It was your turn to avert your gaze. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Lieutenant.”

“Is it flattery if I spoke earnestly? I can assure you, I could not possibly exaggerate my feelings for you.”

“All right, all right. You’ve made your point.” You huffed, brushing his hand away (gently) so as to preserve the remainder of your resolve. “Just…please pay attention to your health. It’s already brutal outside, and if you’re feeling ill, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’re all I’ve got.”

“I understand.” He nodded, though he was unable to keep the smile from his lips. He brushed past you one final time, kissing the top of your head while he went.

Your gaze lingered on him even after the tent flap fell closed again. He was pushing himself too hard, and it was clear he wasn’t well. But you decided to trust Frederick; after all, he trusted you in spite of your mysterious origins.

He was all you really knew, now. Frederick’s routine was the one constant, in the throes ofkk battle and the constantly shifting tactics and politics that came with it.

He was always the same. Always performing his duties down to the exact second on his schedule. It reassured you; grounded you.

There was no reason to doubt him.

Glancing at the timepiece he kept in his trunk, it would be a few hours before breakfast. You’d check in on him then.

Surely, he’d be all right to work for a few hours.Frederick was not, in fact, fine to work a few hours.

When you reconnected in the mess tent, you found he had already fetched both your portions, but his was noticeably smaller than yours.

“Freddybear…aren’t you hungry? You’ve been working since dawn.” You noted carefully, sitting beside your husband.

He stared into the bowl, his brow furrowed. “I am not particularly hungry this morning. Perhaps I simply have not put in as much effort today as I usually do.”

You purse your lips, sharing some of your breakfast with him to even the portions out a little more.

“You’re going to need the energy if you insist on doing your daily duties in that heavy set of armor. Although, you could always slow down and rest for the day, just in case…”

“Thank you for worrying about me, but I can assure you I’m fine.” He replied gently, and returned the portion you shared with him into your bowl. “I know your day will be filled with meetings; you’re going to need the strength to withstand all those political battles.”

“That is a good point.” You nodded, “But at last eat one extra bite. For me?”

He exhaled softly, allowing you to rgift him one spoonful of your meal.

“Very well.”

“Thank you, dear.” You grinned, pecking his cheek. “Now let’s eat before our duties drag us away.”

And drag you away, they did; you were plotting out your next steps, knowing exactly where to go in order to avoid Plegian fire and reach Ferox within a reasonable amount of time. The bitter cold would provide more obstacles the longer you waited to take up camp and move it closer to the capital.

The kingdom itself had its share of bandits and vagabonds, which would no doubt become a headache for the Shepherds during the journey northward.

Coupled with the snowfall only growing icier and heavier through the next several days, and you had yourselves a proper race against the clock.

“We’ve already strained the medical tent with the number of soldiers who’ve fallen ill in the cold.” Stahl reported, “Lady Maribelle and Princess Lissa have requested a number of medical supplies, as well as any blankets and winter wear that can be spared.”

“We’re already running low on all of that, as it is…where would we be able to find more?”

“There’s a village between here and Ferox…could we make it there before we get to Ferox, so we can restock and rest?” You wondered, narrowing your eyes at the map.

The faint clanging of sparring reverberated in the still air as the council contemplated the next move. A good reminder that there would need to be a weapons restock in the near future as well.

“Indeed there is; but it would also force us to rework the path to Ferox, as well. It may add an additional two days to our journey when we depart.” Miriel explained, illustrating the wide curve the army would have to take if they went on this detour.

A particularly strong strike of steel hit across camp, followed by an exclamation among the soldiers. Someone must have won that duel handily. The sounds of mock battle resumed in the background.

“It would be worth it, in order to keep ourselves in top condition. I don’t want to risk lives because we were fighting hungry or sick. Chrom, what do you think?” You turned to the prince, who was listening carefully to the deliberations.

The clanging outside stopped suddenly. More exclamations.

“While time is indeed of the essence, I feel that Robin’s plan may be better in the long term. We should start making preparations to take up the camp and head north while it is still early in the-”

“Lord Chrom!!”

Ricken suddenly burst into the tent, the frost across his clothes contrasted sharply with the bright red of his face.

“Ricken? What’s-”

“The Lieutenant collapsed!!”

In a breath the whole of the tent was emptied, sprinting to the clamoring crowd that wasw growing at the training grounds. You led the charge, heart thundering faster than your feet could carry you.

Frederick collapsed. Frederick collapsed?

The words were foreign in your brain; you couldn’t make sense of it. The faint glow of healing staves could be seen in the snow. You pushed your way through the rumbling soldiers, confused and concerned.

Deep in the snow, Frederick laid off the side of the field. Maribelle and Lissa were frantically trying to heal him. He was unconscious.

“Frederick-” You reached his side before Chrom could, sliding to your knees beside him. His face was pale, in spite of being inches deep in the snow and ice. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He just dropped in the middle of a fight. I thought he may have been struck, but there aren’t any wounds.” Maribelle explained, words clipped and anxious.

You tore the glove from your hand, touching his face. Instantly you withdrew your fingers, a rush of air leaving you.

“He’s hot.” The staves paused at your statement, both the women staring at you. “H-his skin is really, really warm.”

“But his face is…” Lissa trailed off, brows furrowing. “Wait. Is he-?”

“Surely not.” The pair exchanged a glance. You were moments from shaking someone’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong with him??”

“He’s…he’s fallen ill.”

Pneumonia. A terrible case of it, at that. You were supposed to be relieved that he wasn’t injured; that this was something healed with plenty of herbs, medicines and rest.

But Frederick didn’t get sick.

You remembered the legends of Shepherds seeing Frederick sneeze and instantly cure whatever cold he might have had. Pneumonia was much more severe than a cold, but…surely it couldn’t have debilitated him so badly.

The healing tent was a mess of anxiety behind you, which was hard to ignore considering you were already deeply upset.

“You should not be here, Robin. If the type of pneumonia he contracted is contagious, you may fall ill as well.”

Frederick didn’t react to the voices above him; he was unconscious. The breaths trembled in his lungs, feverishly turning his head side to side on the pillow. Whatever was going on inside of him was tumultuous.

“I understand, but…I cannot leave him when he’s like this.” Your response was given without ever taking your eyes off him.

It was difficult to sit and watch, but the healers were kind enough to allow you to stay by his side while they worked around you. They had drawn his blood, listened to his heartbeat and his breathing, and were checking his fever every hour.

“H-he’ll be okay, right?” You heard Lissa ask from the end of the bed. She was tasked with healing him as well, but given how shaky her hands were, she needed to gather herself. Chrom put a comforting arm around her, but his expression remained grave.

“I’m sure he’ll recover. This may be a difficult fight, but it’s Frederick. I’ve never seen him sick longer than a day.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Lissa managed a small smile, but she was looking about as pale as your husband currently did. The thought alone made your stomach flip.

“Is there anything that we can do?” You asked Maribelle, “I…I want to stay with him, but I don’t want to be useless.”

“Perhaps fetching some food for yourselves and him will be good. I think all of you could use some fresh air. See if Stahl has the vegetable broth that I requested.”

The three of you left the tent, the biting air a bitter reminder of your current reality. It drew your feet to a stop. Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t leave his side just yet.

“Robin?”

Chrom touched your upper arm. It was difficult to find the words.

“Are you all right?”

“I…don’t know. I just don’t feel like it’s a good idea to leave him.” You glanced back at the tent, “I don’t like the idea of going somewhere and he’s not there with me.”

Chrom motioned for Lissa to go ahead, a little more concerned with his friend folding into herself.

“I’m sorry, Robin. If I realized he was getting sick, I would have ordered him to rest before it got like this. I know how hard he pushes himself.”

“I tried to convince him to slow down - more than once - but he insisted he was fine, and he pushed forward anyways. I believed him when he said he’d take care of himself, but now he’s… I’m just so worried.”

“We all are. This is uncharted territory.” Chrom agreed, squeezing your shoulder. “I can’t imagine how it must feel for you. You’ve been stuck to Frederick like glue almost since we found you in that field.”

You nodded, lips pursed. It wouldn’t do any good to speak out loud your deeper fears.

“He’s…my world.” You admitted quietly, frown deepening. “I don’t think I should leave him.”

“Even if it’s on the healer’s orders?”

“You can bring me back some food too, can’t you?”

Chrom chuckled. “Of course. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

And so you returned to the tent, feeling a sense of relief that you wouldn’t be leaving Frederick behind for any longer. Maribelle quirked an eyebrow, but did not press any questions as to why you had taken a break that wasn’t longer than a few minutes.

You quietly returned to your seat beside Frederick, whose expression remained contorted in discomfort.

He had turned away from your touch, jerking his head when cool fingers brushed against his cheek. His eyes remained closed; was he having a nightmare?

“I’m here, Freddybear.” You whispered, “I’m sure you can’t hear me, but…I’m not going anywhere ‘til you’re better. Got it?”

You squeezed his hand, resting your head on your other arm while you watched his fitful rest. It wouldn’t be long before the royals returned with food for yourself and your husband, though his was more flavored water than anything else.

Maribelle had moved to take care of his meal, but you were quick to volunteer. Something about letting others take over a task that was clearly meant for you to do felt wrong.

Though to the others, it was a symptom of more worrisome fears.By the time the next evening rolled in, Frederick’s condition grew worse.

The past twenty-four hours saw him in and out of a feverish attempt at consciousness. At one point, your name had passed his lips, but th.

Chrom sent their best horsemen to the village north, requesting clerics who would surely be able to turn his fever around with their expertise.

You were anxiously watching the tent flaps, hoping Chrom would return with an army of Feroxi healers at any second.

“Just hold on a little longer, my love.” You whispered, and held his hand tightly between both of yours. “Help will be here soon. Then you’ll be right as rain, and everything’ll go back to normal. Like nothing was ever wrong.”

His response was little more than a shuddering breath, his brow drawn tight against the pounding ache in his head. You kissed his knuckles, trying so hard to keep your wits.

He was your world. He was all that you knew, and neither you nor any of his close friends had ever known him to fall so terribly ill. What was worse, of course, was the terrible reality that no one could think of what might happen next.

When the clerics finally arrived, Frederick’s condition had already worsened. The shallow breathing was replaced with fits of hard, wet coughs. It seemed to pull him from whatever troubled excuse for rest he’d been getting before.

The coughing sounded heavy, as though his lungs were rattling with every sharp repetition. Your hand was on his back the instant he awoke, doubling over almost as suddenly as his eyes had opened.

“Frederick!” Your concern was quickly overwhelmed by the trio of clerics that were shepherded in by the prince. Chrom looked between you and Frederick, a small flash of relief in his eyes quickly overshadowed with worry.

“He's awake- that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” He commented as he came to your side, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“His fever is severe.” The first cleric spoke, already having placed the back of his hand to Frederick’s forehead.

His eyes were glassy; you worried he didn’t know what was going on. Chrom’s fingers twitched.

“It can be brought back down though, can’t it?”

“It will be difficult, milord. Not only that, but it sounds as though the infection has spread deep into his lungs. The coughing should not be this heavy after two days of rest.”

“What can we do?” You asked, deciding to ignore the crack in your voice.

“We will need cold compresses, a bowl of cold water, and an additional bowl of packed snow.” The third cleric instructed, addressing the healer as she joined the growing group. “Could you show us where the medicinal herbs are, Lady Maribelle?”

“Of course. Though I must inform you that I’ve tried every combination I can think of to address the ailment.”

“We have brought our own supply of herbs local to Ferox, though we assumed you would have most of the base roots and herbs we will need to combine them with.”

“That would be correct.” Maribelle’s chin lifted, clearly proud of herself for maintaining the stock. She nodded to you, “Not to worry, Robin. We’ll have him back to normal in no time, now that we’ve got some proper help.”

You turned your attention back to Frederick, whose expression was a mixture of exhaustion, pain and confusion.

“Dearest?” You touched his cheek, the flushed red and sharp heat nearly catching you off guard. “Frederick, darling, did you hear them?”

A non-committal noise was about the best he could do before another coughing fit took hold. Your hand left his face to support his back again, a vain attempt at helping him.

“Milady,” One of the clerics addressed you, “It will be more efficient for us to work if we are allowed to occupy the whole space. I’m afraid we must ask you to leave.”

You glanced back at your husband, chewing the inside of your cheek. “But you will keep me informed if anything changes, yes?”

“You will be the first to know. Thank you for your cooperation.” They guided you out, Chrom not far behind. He seemed a little more at ease than you did, though you couldn’t imagine why.

“They sure know what they’re doing, don’t they? They’re not wasting a second.” Chrom said, sealing the tent behind you. “I only wish we were able to return with help sooner; I’ve never seen him in such dire straits.”

“But he will be all right?” Your response was shaky enough to be more of a question than a statement of fact. Chrom could hear it in your voice; you were well beyond anxious.

“Yes- yes, of course he’ll be all right! Frederick’s got the fortitude and the stubborness of an ox. He’s not going to let something like this take him down.”

“Thank you, Chrom.” Your whisper was met with a kind smile, and an elbow offered.

“May I escort you back to your tent?”

When he left you to your own devices, there was little else to distract yourself from the worrying besides scribbling nonsense on parchment.

It did at least serve to occupy your thoughts for an hour, though it was far from productive.

A few maps were drawn that would no doubt have to be re-worked, some personal notes that you couldn’t seem to read the words you were writing…

With a sharp sigh, you pushed away from your desk, opting to do some tidying around the immaculate tent instead. Something to keep your mind from worrying. Anything to stop fretting for a single second.

“Lady Robin?”

Perhaps not.

You unlatched the tent flap to find one of the village clerics standing in the whipping ice and wind. His expression was more grim than the weather.

“It is about your husband’s condition.”The pair of you returned to the healing tent within minutes of his status report. Frederick’s fever wasn’t breaking.

His condition hadn’t improved even after the intensive care he’d been receiving for the last hour straight. Even in the state he was in, with the efforts the clerics had already put in, his fever should have reduced by at least half a degree.

Instead, the rate he was going suggested he would not make it through the night if nothing changed.

It sucked the air from your lungs.

Returning to Frederick’s side didn’t give any comfort. You were at his bedside, this time determined not to leave him until you knew he was okay. His hand was tightly grasped between both of yours, feeling the heat that seared through his fingertips. His skin was so pale, and his breathing was labored.

“I am sorry, Lady Robin. We have informed the Exalt and his sister, but have instructed them to stay away from the tent so that we can continue to monitor him with little distraction. But given you are his spouse, I thought you should be the only exception.”

“Please…” The sound of your voice was foreign in your ears. When had it become so broken? Your fingers tightened around his hand, your knuckles white. “Please, help him.”

“My lady, we will do all we can, but there is little else-”

“There h-has to be something.” You hissed, fighting so hard not to let the dam break. “I can’t lose him. Not like this, he- I-I don’t have anyone else.”

The cleric’s lips drew into a thin line; this was the fearless Ylissean tactician, bearing her soul to a complete stranger. A man who you saw as holding his life in his hands.

“We will do what we can.” He repeated, gentler. “I do not wish to frighten you., but it is important that you know…and that you may need to prepare for the worst.”

There was little in the way of a response. Instead the cleric moved away, closing the fabric that provided some privacy in the tent so that you could be alone with him for a little while.

Silence filled the space, your thundering heart overwhelmed by the howling winds pounding the canvas with ice and snow. The tent was warm, at least, but it did not stop the shivers running up and down your spine. Though the trembling had a different source.

“Frederick…” Your forehead fell on his shoulder, a grimace twisting your lips. “Frederick, please- don’t do this. I need you. I need you to get through this, I-”

A sob caught in your throat, desperate and raw.

“Y-you’re everything to me, you know that? Y-you’ve been there since the first day…you’re in my very first memories since I woke up in that damn field. And you are my one constant…my one truth. I don’t…”

You swallowed thickly, pulling back to gaze upon his face. He looked so pained.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

You drew his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles once, twice, three times as hot tears overflowed.

“Please, love…do not go where I cannot follow.”

Soft whimpers were somehow able to escape, the fragile prayers an echo in your heart. The silence was deafening, interrupted only by the muted cries of the knight lieutenant’s beloved.

There was nothing else to do but wait.

Agonize…and wait.

The first thing that registered in your mind when you awoke in the quiet of morning…was that your back ached terribly.

You groaned, recognizing that you were not asleep in your cot, but had slumped over on a less than comfortable stool. Frederick would surely scold you for falling asleep in such a way- it was simply terrible for your physical health to slump over on your seat for hours like that.

His name flitting through your thoughts was able to pull you from the drowse. The reason you were sitting at all was because you were in the healing tent. Watching over your husband.

“Frederick-” Your whisper was hoarse and a crackled attempt at speaking. Blearily you searched for his face in the darkness.

It was far too dark- was it even really morning? You fumbled with a small spell tag, hastily casting a small Ember spell.

An infant flame flickered to life in your palm, allowing your eyes to focus on your prize.

The lieutenant was still asleep. Your jaw clenched, feeling a lance of fear in your heart; he was asleep, wasn’t he?

Shaking fingers reached for his face, finding heat beneath your touch.

No…not heat. Warmth.

He was warm.

“Frederick…! Your fever-” You rose abruptly from your seat, pressing your ear to his chest to confirm your hopes. His heartbeat was still there.

Breath filled his lungs.

He made it through the night.

“Oh-- oh, the healers-!” You burst from the enclosed space, extinguishing the ember as you called for the clerics’ attention. There were two still shuffling about in the early morning, startled by the noisy tactician.

“My lady-?”

“His fever broke-!” You blurted out, pointing lamely back to where your husband slept. “H-he is still alive!”

It was all you could do to follow after the pair, who hurriedly went to confirm your exclamation. One took up Frederick’s hand, pressing his wrist to feel for his pulse. The other touched his forehead, confirming he was indeed no longer boiling.

“He has made it through the night.” They declared, relief passing over the three of you. It was impossible to contain your joy, all but collapsing beside him and sobbing with immense joy.

You clung to his hand, pressing as many kisses as you could while the healers politely left to procure more medicine to treat him once he woke.

Though you could care less if they stayed or went- Frederick was alive!

He would remain asleep for a few hours more, despite all the ruckus around him. Chrom and Lissa were promptly informed of the state of him, and you were soon joined by two tearful royals who crammed into the little space beside you.

So that, when Frederick finally did open his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by three blurry, smiling, ridiculous figures.

“Frederick?” Lissa spoke up first, blue eyes shining bright with hopefulness. “Can you hear me? You feeling any better?”

A soft noise was just about the only thing he could manage, brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to gather his bearings.

He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, only that he didn’t exactly feel fantastic.

However, he could definitively say he felt better now than he did a while ago. And judging by the worried expressions that were surrounding him as his vision focused, he wasn’t the only one who thought that.

“Darling,” You called to him softly, squeezing his hand. “Do you need anything? Should I get you some water, or. Something to eat?”

He squeezed your hand back, albeit weakly. “Mmn…water…”

“O-of course! Just a moment.” You looked back to Chrom and Lissa, light in your gaze for the first time in days. As if you were saying “Hear that? He wants to drink something!” with your face.

“Why don’t you stay here while we go get him some water, instead? You’ve suffered long enough at his side; you deserve some joy, instead.” Chrom suggested, and took his sister’s hand.

Frederick watched them leave with sleepy confusion, turning his attention back to you.

“You…were suffering…?”

“Freddybear, you were really, really sick. It was pneumonia.” You explained, “One minute you seemed fine, and the next you collapsed during training. You were barely conscious, a-and the fever you had almost killed you.”

A grim understanding crossed his face, seeming to wake him up a little more. “I see…I didn’t realize…”

“I’m sure you didn’t think it was as bad as it was, but…the clerics had informed me you may not have made it through the night.” The red around your eyes betrayed the softness in your tone. You reached your breaking point.

Your husband’s hand shifted around yours, threading his fingers between your own as close as possible.

“I had a dream…you were crying.” He breathed, “Praying.”

With a trembling lip, you shook your head, looking away in a feeble attempt to withhold the tears from escaping.

“Did you say I’m…your one…your one constant?”

With a shaky sigh, you nodded, squeezing his fingers again. “I did, because you are. I rely on you more than anyone else, Freddybear. You’re the one person I can always count on to…to be there. More than anybody. That’s…why I w-was so upset.”

“I didn’t know,” He coughed much drier and softer than before. You made a move to help him, but he shook his head, opting instead to maintain his strengthening grip on your hand.

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me.”

You weren’t sure if that was a sob or a laugh that you barked out, but it was there all the same. “Frederick, of course I feel that way about you- I married you! Did you doubt my love wouldn’t extend to trusting you, too?”

‘T-that is not what I meant. It seems my thoughts are still…a bit muddled.” He shook his head, looking troubled. “ I mean that…I did not know you relied on my presence so much.”

“It’s only natural, isn’t it?” You insisted quietly, leaning down so that your head rested on the thin pillow inches from him. He stared into your eyes, his still-blurred vision focusing enough to show the sorrow in your eyes. “I can’t recall what life was like before the valley. And you’ve been there since day one, for the good and bad.”

“You said that to me, too. I remember.” His whisper was met with a bashful smile, and your fingers gingerly brushing along his cheek. “So it really wasn’t a dream. I…I am so sorry, Robin. I frightened you so…”

You blinked rapidly, and shook your head. “You didn’t know it would end up this badly. All I can ask is that in the future, y-you take better care of yourself. I don’t know I can survive another situation like this”

“I will.” He promised, leaning into your touch with a happy sigh. “Thank you…for looking after me. It makes me feel even more grateful that you are my wife; to think you would stay so loyally at my side, despite my own foolishness.”

“I am a pretty wonderful wife, aren’t I?” You mused, allowing the tension to ease with a spot of humor and some well deserved laughter. You kissed Frederick’s forehead, tenderly brushing the hair from his brow. “I will go and find Maribelle, so we can discuss what your recovery will look like from here. And I’m sure Chrom and Lissa have already gotten that water by now.”

Frederick could not bear to take his eyes off you, watching as you rose from your place beside him (with one more kiss for good measure), to retrieve the listed parties.

It filled his exhausted heart with such warmth and joy, to know that you loved him so deeply. That you needed him so terribly.

If he was honest with himself, he knew it would be the exact same nightmares and fears running around in his mind that you had to struggle through. Sinking back into the cot, he stared up at the ceiling, determined to prevent such a horrific experience from ever being repeated.

And, while he was at it, thinking of the perfect way to woo his dear wife’s heart back. Thankfully it would not be difficult to achieve.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

David Rowe

* * * *

The power of not giving up!

November 15, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

After the preposterous nominations of Matt Gaetz, Tulsi Gabbard, and Pete Hegseth1 on Wednesday, my inbox and the Comment section experienced a spike in reader comments that were a variation of, “This is too much! I give up. Democracy is done for!”

Those reactions are completely understandable. Trump has managed to exceed our worst fears for his cabinet picks. He did so again on Thursday by nominating Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead Health & Human Services. Just weeks ago, RFK Jr. was too nutty and toxic for the Trump campaign, which had begun to distance itself from Kennedy, who believes that all vaccines are harmful, antidepressants are responsible for mass shootings, and COVID was engineered to target Caucasians and Blacks while sparing Ashkenazi Jews.

I get it. At this moment, it is easy to feel hopeless and powerless. That is the point of mind-numbing nominations that seek to place federal agencies under the control of unqualified hacks intent on destroying the agencies they will lead. The strongest defense against a psychological terror campaign designed to instill dread and provoke despair is to refuse to give up!

It is not a given that Trump's ludicrous nominees will be confirmed. Nor should we assume that they will be able to do their worst in agencies staffed with hundreds of thousands of qualified, dedicated public servants.

I am not saying that things won’t get bad. They will. I am saying that they will get worse if we give up merely because of threats and bluster by a man schooled in the dark arts of the long con and the Big Lie.

My favorite political writer, Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo, wrote about the dangers of giving up in advance. See The Most Pernicious Anticipatory Obedience Hides in Plain Sight, Talking Points Memo. (Although the discussion takes place in Josh’s paying members-only newsletter, this article should be accessible to all. My subscription to Talking Points Memo is the best investment I make.)

Marshall writes in part,

You may think there’s some kind of psychic or moral merit in jumping into every conversation and saying “No, it’s over! He said he was going to be a dictator! He said who he was! Believe him! Don’t be so naive!” But really that’s just rolling out a red carpet, the ultimate capitulation in advance. At the very least, put him to the task. Make him execute on what he’s trying to do. It won’t be easy and there are a lot of ways to make it even less easy. That’s the first role of a political opposition. [¶¶] [Giving up is] the most pernicious form of anticipatory obedience. Deciding that all of this stuff has already happened is not only inaccurate but self-defeating. It’s amplifying threats Trump hasn’t been able or willing to make good on. A better answer, both more effective and more dignified, is to say, “Okay, let’s see you try.” It’s not easy. There are lots of road blocks. It requires maintaining a lot of public support. It requires patience.

In citing Marshall’s essay, I do not mean to criticize anyone who wrote to me in exhaustion and fear today to say, “It’s too much. I give up. All is lost.” If that is how you feel, those feelings are understandable and firmly rooted in reality.

But as I responded to some readers today, “You don’t mean that. It is exhaustion and despair talking. You aren’t giving up. You and I both know that.”

There is power in the simple act of not giving up. Even if there is little that we can do in the moment to stop the ludicrous nominations and threats.

Do not give up. If the only thing you can muster is the will not to give up, that is enough—for now.

But we can do more than not giving up. We can engage in small acts of daily resistance. Make a phone call. Write a letter. Send a text or email. For those of you already involved in the grassroots movement, you know the drill.

If you are just joining the fight, there is no better place than Jessica Craven’s Chop Wood, Carry Water newsletter on Substack. Jessica’s daily column includes small acts that you can take to make your voice heard.

On Thursday, Jessica Craven’s newsletter included a script and directions for calling your representatives in Congress, urging them to reject the nomination of Matt Gaetz. Check it out!

Take a small action and feel the power of refusing to give up!

Recess appointments

As Trump's nominations become ever more ludicrous, the reason for his demand for recess appointments becomes clearer: Many of his nominees will never make it through the confirmation process. See Salon, "Totally unqualified": Congress reacts to RFK Jr. nomination.

When Trump first floated the idea of recess appointments, I assumed it was bluster. I now believe he is deadly serious. Senator John Thune, the new Majority Leader in the Senate, says that recess appointments are “still an option.”

The issue of recess appointments is complicated and nuanced. Previous presidents have made recess appointments, although the trend over the last two decades has been to block all recess appointments. See generally, Vox, Trump’s demand for recess appointments, explained.

But here is the constitutional takeaway about recess appointments: The rule is that nominations are confirmed by the Senate and recess appointments are the rare exception. Trump seeks to make the exception (recess appointments) the rule.

Whatever the history and nuances of recess appointments, no president has ever demanded that Congress go into recess for the purpose of circumventing the Senate’s obligation to provide “advice and consent” regarding presidential nominations. See Can  the  President  Adjourn  Congress? - ConstitutionNEXT.

Trump's demand that the Senate abdicate its constitutional duty is the first step in abolishing the constitutional system of checks and balances. If Republicans agree to surrender the constitutional oversight role of Congress, they are co-conspirators in an effort to overthrow the Constitution.

Don’t let anyone tell you that Trump's demand that the Senate go into recess is consistent with historical norms. It is not. Trump's demand is outrageous and should be condemned by every member of Congress and every responsible media outlet in the nation.

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is a danger to America’s health

Trump's nomination of RFK Jr. crossed another line of sanity and decency. Kennedy is a dangerous, unserious, deeply flawed choice who will imperil the health of Americans if he is confirmed. See The Guardian, RFK Jr condemned as ‘clear and present danger’ after Trump nomination.

Per The Guardian,

Public Citizen, a progressive nonprofit organization focusing on consumer advocacy, said: “Robert F Kennedy Jr is a clear and present danger to the nation’s health. He shouldn’t be allowed in the building at the department of health and human services (HHS), let alone be placed in charge of the nation’s public health agency.” “Donald Trump’s bungling of public health policy during the Covid pandemic cost hundreds of thousands of lives. By appointing Kennedy as his secretary of HHS, Trump is courting another, policy-driven public health catastrophe,” the organization added. Alastair McAlpine, a pediatric physician at British Columbia’s children’s hospital, wrote: “It is hard to overstate what a terrible decision this is. RFK Jr has no medical training. He is a hardcore anti-vaccine and misinformation peddler. The last time he meddled in a state’s medical affairs (Samoa), 83 children died of measles.”

Despite the danger presented by Kennedy, no congressional Republicans have gone on record criticizing Kennedy. To the contrary, they have described him as “brilliant” and “exciting.” It is despicable that Republicans would play politics with the health of America’s children, elderly, and vulnerable.

Update on Matt Gaetz

Shock over Matt Gaetz’s nomination continues. One reason (among many) are allegations that Gaetz was involved in moving underage girls across state lines for sex. On Thursday, the attorney for one of those underage girls spoke out. See Newsweek, Lawyer for Teenager at Center of Matt Gaetz Investigation Speaks Out.

Per Newsweek, the girl’s lawyer said,

Mr. Gaetz's likely nomination as Attorney General is a perverse development in a truly dark series of events. We would support the House Ethics Committee immediately releasing their report. She was a high school student and there were witnesses.

It is bewildering and maddening that a president-elect who is an adjudicated sexual abuser nominated a man under investigation for transporting underage girls across state lines for sex to be the Attorney General of the United States. Most of the Trump voters who are parents of teenage daughters would not allow their daughters to remain alone in the same room with Trump or Gaetz. And yet, they voted for Trump.

Concluding Thoughts

It has been a tough week. Part of the reason is that we can’t play defense yet. We are simply waiting as Trump makes one outrageous announcement after another. I admit to feeling frustrated. Over the summer, the Biden and Harris campaigns raised the alarm about the anti-democratic, revenge-based agenda planned by Trump. Pundits and scolds warned that “democracy issues” were not resonating with voters and Democrats needed to shift to “kitchen table issues.”

Kamala Harris made a masterful pivot to policies focusing on the middle and working classes. Those campaign themes gained some traction, but not enough. And now we are faced with the anti-democratic, revenge-based agenda that many warned was coming. That agenda is surprising Trump supporters and some Democrats. And it is worse than we imagined.

We can’t change the past, but we can learn from it. There is no such thing as raising the alarm about Trump's dictatorial aspirations too loudly or frequently. We must resist every step of the way.

I have largely abandoned the NYTimes as a source of news. Today, as I was fact-checking this newsletter, I clicked on my icon for the NYT, expecting to see full-throated condemnation of Trump's ridiculous anti-government, anti-science, anti-America nominations. Instead, I saw David Brooks (still) explaining to Democrats how they (allegedly) blew it. At some point, Brooks will have to find something new to write about. I suggest he start with an alleged child sex trafficker heading the DOJ, an anti-science anti-vaxxer heading HHS, a Putin-friendly neophyte heading the DNI, and a white nationalist heading the DOD.

While there is power in not giving up, at some point we need to rouse righteous anger about what is happening to America. It is not right. It is not acceptable. And we should not let it happen on our watch.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[peekablue]

DONATIONS URGENTLY NEEDED FOR OLA’S FAMILY IN GAZA

Here is her story:

Hello, I'm Ola, a graduate student from the faculty of science - Al-Azhar University in Gaza Palestine. I truly appreciate you taking a moment to read my story. As you reading my message, myself and my family, “my mother, father, three sisters, and my little brother,” are fighting death in northern Gaza and trying to survive under all kinds of suffering including but not limited to destruction, fear, and instability, starvation, thirst, and poverty.

For eight months until now, we have been struggling to get proper food after prices increased by 15 to 20 times, struggling to have clean water for use and drinking. We lacked security and stability as we were forced to evacuate our house and left everything behind. Then we had to move at least three times since every new area we seek refuge to gets bombed.

Before October 7th, my days were filled with attending lectures, working, and volunteering. I completed my bachelor's degree in Mathematics with a GPA 96.01% with a grade of distinction with first class honors.

Once I completed my graduate studies, I began looking for a job to cover the study expenses. I got my first contract as a mathematics teacher on August 30, 2023, at a school here in Gaza. I was very excited, happy and full of passion for this new chapter in my life as a student and teacher at the same time. It was one month like a beautiful dream in which I began my work as a teacher to my students in the seventh grade. I was explaining mathematics using extracurricular activities.

However since October 7th, my life turned upside down, darkness prevailed, all hopes and dreams quickly vanished. Our once peaceful neighborhood has been devastated by relentless bombings, leaving my home, university, and my workplace destroyed.

Although, there is nothing here but rubble and ash color and a dark and gloomy future looms ahead, my family and I fight every day holding onto a thin thread of hope that tomorrow might be better. This is why I decided to start this campaign and seek your help and support to create hope for me and my family.

Your generous support and donation will help provide the basic needs needed for me and my family under these difficult circumstances. It will also give us hope that there is a better future waiting for us once the war stops Insha’Allah. It will also help me complete my higher education programs and become a better teacher and researcher insha'Allah.

I extend heartfelt gratitude to the caring donors who aid my journey. Your belief in the transformative power of education is a beacon of inspiration, and your kindness is a gift that propels me forward.

If you can donate, the link to her GFM is here:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/empower-olas-pursuit-of-education-amid-crisis

If you cannot donate, please spread this post and consider making one of your own.

[willalove75]

New Girl on the Pitch Ch. 2 Lunch with the Boss

Pairing: Rebecca Welton x f!reader

Summary: Your friend Keeley brings you in as the team's social media manager, Rebecca is impressed, in more ways than one.

Words:

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn

Notes: Chapter 2

Your first week was anything but easy, the teams social media accounts were a mess. You spent half of your first week weeding through trolls, bots and angry fans. You've dealt with negativity and navigating hateful comments with other brands socials, but this was the worst you've ever seen. To make things worse, some journalist, Trent Crimm, was sniffing around on your second day asking you about the socials and how the team was dealing with the negativity. As far as you know, more than half of the team doesn't even follow Richmond's social media accounts, it wasn't a good look. You're hoping you were able to make yourself, and the team, look better by telling him your plan to come up with some campaigns to improve the teams social media presence which will, hopefully, ward off the hate comments.

When Trent was talking to you, you did notice Rebecca slow down as she walked past your office. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that she was looking at you with a smirk on her face, which made you even more nervous than you already were.

You were pretty positive at this point that she was checking you out, the few interactions you did have with her over the past week had a very subtle, flirty undertone to them. She was a mystery to you, even when she seemed to be flirting with you, she still seemed so, cold? You want to know what's under that tough, exterior but it seems impenetrable still.

"BOO!"

"OH MY GOD"

Keeley bursts into your office and scares the crap out of you as she laughs hysterical

"Holy shit dude you scared the shit out of me!!"

"Heheh good! Now come on we're going to lunch!"

She spins away as you grab your stuff and follow behind her. You walk towards the double doors and you see Rebecca standing there, looking at her phone. Damn, this woman was so good looking. Her tight dress hugs every curve on her body perfectly, her red bottomed heels accentuate her long, toned legs. Your eyes move along her body stopping at her ass. Man, does this woman have a great ass, and wide, round hips to go with it. It's crazy to you how well this dress shows off her perfect hourglass figure. You take note of her tiny waist, all you want to do is wrap your arms around it and rest your head on her full chest. The deep V neck of her shirt reveals just enough of her soft skin to make you want to drool, she has the best tits you've ever seen on a woman. She's still looking down at her phone, her long, slender fingers tapping away at the screen. You're envious of her sharp jawline, her softly curled hair tucked behind her ear that's decorated with a simple, pretty pair of dangling earrings. Her lips perfectly plump, they look so kissable. You look up to her eyes, a beautiful shade of green, they're staring down at the screen, unnoticing you and Keeley walking towards her.

"Rebecca!!" Keeley shouts as we walk closer. Her head quickly turns and your eyes meet hers, a small smile crosses her face, you smile back. Something about her seems different, like a little of her coldness melted away.

"I asked y/n to tag along with us!" Keeley says excitedly

"Very well then, shall we go?" Rebecca says happily. You're a little surprised at her tone, you expected her to sound annoyed or irritated that you were crashing their lunch date, but she seems happy about it, or at least unbothered.

The three of you walk out of the building.

"My driver will take us" Rebecca says, walking towards her car.

"Yes! Now we can all get drunk!" Keeley jokes, although you and Rebecca both know Keeley well enough to know she's only half joking.

The three of you climb into the back seat of the car, you end up sitting in the middle between Rebecca and Keeley. You've never been this close to Rebecca before and you start to feel a little anxious. You get a whiff of her perfume, it's as beautiful as it is intoxicating. The scent calms your nerves as you all make small talk on the way to the restaurant.

The car makes a sharp, unexpected turn that tosses the three of you around in the back seat. You get thrown into Rebecca, almost landing into her lap. Your hand ends up on her thigh when you try to stop yourself and you immediately scramble back into your spot.

"OI!" Rebecca yells. Fear shoots through you for a second, thinking she's yelling at you; you quickly realize she's yelling at her driver and you relax.

"Apologies ladies" her driver says "This fuckin' twat thinks he's the only bloke on the road."

Rebecca looks at you and puts a hand on you leg. Your heart begins to beat harder and faster. You start to feel a wetness between your legs.

"You okay love?"

"Uh, yeah thanks, sorry. Are you?"

"No apologies necessary. And yes, I'm fine" She says with a smile that makes you want to melt.

Her hand lingers on your leg for a few seconds longer and she slowly slides it off of you. Your heart continues to pound as your thoughts start swirling once again. "Is she into me?" "How can she be into me?" "Fuck she's my BOSS" "Damnit she smells so good" "shit I want her so bad" as the wetness between your legs grows.

You pull up to the restaurant and the three of you get out, Keeley opens the door and you follow behind her, you turn your head to make sure Rebecca is in the door before you let go of it and you catch her eyes looking down at your ass. Her eyes snap up and meet yours. They have the same intensity as usual, but this time you see a hint of lust in her eyes. You flash a quick smile and continue to follow Keeley.

The three of you are seated in a corner booth in the back of the room. Keeley gets in on one side and Rebecca slides in next to her. You go to the other side when you're stopped.

"Keeley slide down" Rebecca says, making room for you to sit next to her as she pats the seat next to her. You sit down and look over at Keeley, who has a big smile on her face and gives you a wink. You roll your eyes at her and look at the menu.

The waitress comes over to take your orders, you each place your orders and the waitress turns to leave

"Oh wait one more thing!" Keeley says "we're gonna get a round of mimosas!"

"We are?" Rebecca says coyly.

"Hell yeah! It's almost the end of the week and we're not driving!"

"Dude, it's Wednesday" you say with as both you and Rebecca laugh.

"Oh whatever!" Keeley turns back to the waitress "three mimosas please!"

Your drinks come out pretty quickly and you guys chat about the team, about Ted, and basically all things Richmond. By the time your food comes out the mimosas are finished and the waitress asks if you wanted a round two.

Rebecca orders a white wine instead and you and Keeley order the same.

After the wine comes out the conversation slowly begins to shift from work to life. Keeley starts talking about Jamie and is complaining about something stupid he had done.

"Well Keeley" Rebecca starts to say "Jamie's just-"

"Fucking immature" you blurt out.

Rebecca and Keeley look at you, a little surprised.

"Well I was going to say 'young' but that's also appropriate" she says with a giggle.

Seeing Rebecca loosen up is nice, the icy exterior seems to melt away with every sip of wine she takes. Somehow she's even prettier when she's relaxed, you notice for the first time how her eyes sparkle when she laughs, and how the laugh lines she has around her mouth and eyes accentuates her bright smile.

You start sharing stories, Keeley talks about some party she went to in Ibiza, Rebecca talks about a wonderful vacation she went on to the south of France, and you share stories from college and one particularly wild party you and your friends threw at your on campus house you lived in. This one party in particular was a rager, you tell them how one of your friends tried to ride your roommates bike down the basement steps, and how someone else fell off of the balcony into the bushes.

"Who the hell did that?!" Keeley asks laughing

"Chris" you say flatly

"Oh" Keeley says, finishing off her wine

"Who's Chris?" Rebecca turns to ask you with a raised eyebrow.

You look into her eyes and look away

"A fucking asshole."

"Yeah, he's the one who convinced y/n to move here with him and then broke up with her and started dating this hot Italian model" Keeley

"You mean the Italian model he cheated on me with, then left me for" you say bitterly "she's just fine looking" you lie to yourself

"Is she really fine or do you just not want her to be hot?" Keeley pries

"Of course I don't want her to be hot! I mean she is, she's really fucking hot" you say, Rebecca looks at you with a bit of a surprised look on her face

"You know she's actually really fucking ugly" Keeley says

"She absolutely is" Rebecca chimes in

Caught off guard you look at Rebecca "do you know her?"

"Nope" Rebecca says, finishing her wine "but I don't have to, I had to deal with a fucking asshole of my own recently. I get it."

Rebecca pats your leg in support. You expect her to pull away but she leaves her hand on your leg, you feel your panties get wet again. You lean your legs into hers, you feel her lean back into you. A small smile comes across your face that you try to hide.

Rebecca pays the bill and the three of you head back to the car. You pile in, with you in the middle once more. Rebecca leans her legs into yours. The three of you keep chatting and Keeley says something fresh, as usual. Rebecca reaches her arm behind you to pinch Keeley. Instead of pulling her arm away, she leaves it across the back seat. You feel her twirl your hair between her fingers.

"Your hair is so soft, y/n, it's so pretty" Rebecca says.

"Yeah I meant to ask you this, who does your hair?" Keeley asks

"Uh, I haven't gotten it done since I left home actually"

"Oh you have to get it done before the charity ball this weekend!" Keeley exclaims "I'll take you to my favorite place!"

"Sure, thanks Keels!"

The three of you get back to Richmond and head inside

"We HAVE to do this again! This was so much fun!" Keeley exclaims

"We certainly do" Rebecca says

"Oh definitely!" You say

The three of you begin to part ways, Keeley starts walking away when you notice Rebecca is staring at you. You look up at her and she gives you a wink and heads off towards her office. Your heart skips a beat and you feel a pulse shoot down to your center.

Higgins runs up to her

"Oh Ms. Welton, I wanted to know if-"

"No." She cuts him off, in her usual, icy tone.

"Oh, okay, uh" Higgins says as he walks behind her

"Don't follow me" she says coldly

"Right uh, I actually have to go this way anyway" as he turns down a random hall.

You're pretty convinced that she did that for two reasons, first, because she genuinely doesn't like Higgins, for whatever reason; and secondly, so you could have a clear view of her ass as she walks away.

You head back to your office and sit at your desk. You notice that you guys were gone for over two hours and your day is almost over. You think back on the afternoon and remember talking about Chris, god that piece of shit can ruin your mood even when he's not there. You remember Rebecca telling you she had her own version of Chris, and you vaguely remember seeing something in the paper about her. You decide to look her up and you read all about Rupert and what he did to her. "Well no fucking shit no wonder why she's icy" you think to yourself "what Chris did to me was bad enough, if he did to me what Rupert did to her, I'd want the whole fucking world to burn."

The day ends and you pack up your things and head out. Rebecca's car begins to pull away as it slows down and stops next to you, the back window rolls down and you see Rebecca smiling at you.

"Y/n, you are coming to the charity ball this weekend, right?" Rebecca asks you with a smile

"Oh yeah, I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Good, will you be needing a plus one?"

"Uh, no, I'm good, thank you though"

She jots something down into her notebook and looks back at you with a smile "Have a great night"

"You too"

You give a quick wave as Rebecca shoots you a wink and the car pulls away.

"Oh shit" you think to yourself "I need something to wear"

You pull out your phone and call Keeley

"Keels, I just realized, I don't have anything to wear to the charity ball this weekend!"

Keeley squeals on the other end as you wince and pull the phone away from your ear. Keely is talking a mile a minute and asks "Where are you? I'm coming to get you right now!!" You tell her you're just leaving work and she says "Okay stay right there!”

The lines goes dead and a minute later you hear a car squealing as you turn and see Keeley peeling into the parking lot. She pulls up next to you

“SHOPPING TRIP!!!!” She squeals as you jump into the car. She peels out and you two are off to fine the perfect dress for the ball.

~~~ part 3 will be posted soon ~~~

[cryoverkiltmilk]

Agenda 47 is just project 2025 with the serial numbers filed off.

------

Important Alert: Update on Project 2025

Joyce Vance

Jul 30

This afternoon, Project 2025 director Paul Dans stepped down at the Heritage Foundation. Reportedly, the Trump campaign applied pressure to stop Project 2025. They’ve been taking a shellacking over it since early voices (like ours here at Civil Discourse) that were focusing on it caught on fire. Recently, there’s been mention of it everywhere, including from both President Biden and Vice President Harris.

We know from studying it that Project 2025 has something in it for everyone to hate, and with all of the attention being paid to it recently, the Trump campaign seems to have figured it out too.

In what appeared to be a closely related action to Dans departure, the Trump campaign disavowed Project 2025, claiming in a press release that they had “nothing to do” with it and that it wasn’t “associated with the campaign or the President in any way.”

Despite the campaign’s claim that “Reports of Project 2025’s demise would be greatly welcomed,” the goals of Project 2025 still align closely with Trump’s own plans. Politically speaking, Project 2025 had become such an albatross around his neck that he had to find a way to distance himself. And perhaps it’s a convenient opportunity to reassert control over personnel for his new administration. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 website said that it was in charge of vetting people for political appointment. So Trump may have killed two birds with one stone here. But don’t be deceived, whatever Trump’s public reaction to the massive negative publicity Project 2025 has generated, it’s unlikely his plans for the country have changed.

In the July 18 edition of the newsletter, we learned that Kevin Roberts, the president of the Heritage Foundation, said he knew Trump was lying about Project 2025.

Reporter Judd Legum has noted that of the 38 people responsible for writing and editing Project 2025, 31 were appointed or nominated to positions in the Trump administration and transition. That’s just over 81%. Many of its policy positions are closely echoed in Trump’s own Agenda 47, which is posted on the campaign website. Recently, video leaked of Trump’s pick for Vice President, J.D. Vance, thanking Heritage for their work on banning abortion and cutting Social Security.

Today’s news looks like political maneuvering, not a substantive disavowal of the policies Trump has advocated for up until now.

Here’s an example. Project 2025 calls for reclassifying tens of thousands of civil servants as political appointees, seeking to strip them of civil service labor protections so “the next conservative president” could replace them with political loyalists. That aligns with Trump’s announced plans.

In fact, he’s done it before. I wrote about it in our first newsletter discussing Project 2025 last November, Frogs Boiled: What Trump is planning for a Second Term. In October of 2020, before the last election, Trump signed an executive order that stripped out the protections that prevent a president from firing civil servants without cause, in other words, for reasons like he doesn’t think an individual is loyal to him. The order was characterized by people in the know as a “stunning attempt to politicize the civil service and undermine more than a century of laws aimed at preventing corruption and cronyism in the federal government.” At least 50,000 federal employees would be affected by the creation of this new “schedule F” unprotected status for any employee who has a role that could be loosely defined as involving policymaking. One of the first steps Joe Biden took after being sworn in was to rescind Trump’s executive order.

Trump’s Agenda 47, clearly states that he will reimpose schedule F on Day one. Despite his claim he doesn’t agree with Project 2025, his plans are the same. What a coincidence.

At the top of his Agenda 47 page on his website, Trump vows to “restore” his ability to fire “rogue bureaucrats” on “Day One.”

This is a big part of what we’re about here at Civil Discourse: Keeping the Republic. We’ve been working on Project 2025 since late last year. Over the last few months, Americans have become more aware of it. Just last night, I joined Joy Reid’s show on MSNBC—she devoted her entire hour to understanding Project 2025.

Voices like ours have made sure the public knows what was in Project 2025 and now Trump has been forced to disavow it. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

We’re doing valuable work here! If you aren’t already, I hope you’ll subscribe to the newsletter. This is an important milestone—citizens like us have forced Trump to back down—but we have more work to do.

We’re in this together,

Joyce

[mermaidsirennikita]

Thoughts on the oscar noms? (…and the current drama surrounding it)

Honestly, I need people to realize that Barbie was a cute movie that was ultimately meant to sell Barbie dolls. It had a great set design, really cool visuals and costumes, some fun jokes, and a very good performance from Ryan Gosling. I think Greta being snubbed is weird because the movie was very CLEARLY. DIRECTED. But then again, Wes Anderson does that a lot to mixed results with the Academy, so. A very clear and strong eye does not always please them. If we're gonna talk about women (because apparently the Oscars allow only one lady director) who directed films very smartly, I would say that Celine Song is a better choice. Past Lives was such a good movie, and I think her direction really helped communicate a story in which a lot was left unsaid, pairing well with the actors.

And I'll be real... I need people to get that the movie was always more about Ken. Ken had the best script. Ken had the best arc. Is that right, for a Barbie movie? I don't know, dude. But I frankly don't blame the Academy for nominating Ryan and not Margot, because Margot had nothing great to do and she didn't elevate the material. She was good, she was charming. Ryan was performing a lot more. I like America btw, but I don't get that nom lol.

Also, stop complaining about I'm Just Ken, it was great, let us have fun song nominees.

Best Picture: I don't know why Barbie is there, the Oppenheimer sweep has been boring and though I liked the movie, as a film it was absolutely nothing without Cillian and to me that does not a Best Picture make, Killers of the Flower Moon or American Fiction should win but won't, Maestro is a joke, Past Lives deserves but also deserves more noms, haven't seen Poor Things, Anatomy of a Fall, or Zone of Interest (though at least filmtwt can stop complaining about it not being well-marketed for the Academy) yet. I liked The Holdovers, but that was before I found out the director is uhhhhh a very very bad man.

Best Actor: Leo was snubbed and I do think him campaigning for Lily so hard had something to do with it but that was legit one of his most interesting, un-Leo performances; Bradley is a joke; happy for Colman but haven't seen Rustin yet; Cillian should win and I think he will but Paul G could dark horse it--I don't think his performance was Oscar-worthy but he was good and he's been picking up his fair share of awards; Jeffrey Wright was amazing in American Fiction and if anyone should dark horse it it's him. I'd still give it to Cillian. If this was up to me, I'd toss out Bradley and throw in Teo Yoo, who was so so good in Past Lives. But the Academy is sending a HARD backlash message to Asian creatives after the EEAAO sweep, imo.

Best Actress: As I said, I don't care that Margot wasn't nominated and I don't think she should've been, and imo her best performance was easily I, Tonya; I haven't seen Nyad so no comment on Annette, same with Sandra for Anatomy, and I think Carey had moments in Maestro but she overall was not one of those "standouts in a horrible movie" actors; Lily should win and absolutely killed her performance and dominated her movie, but I am worried that Emma could take it. I'd toss out Carey for Greta Lee.

Best Supporting Actor: Everyone needs to stop saying Sterling snuck in because he was deeply moving in American Fiction and is lowkey highkey one of the best actors working right now; RDJ basically just did Leslie Odom Jr. in Hamilton and F. Murray Abraham in Amadeus but with his RDJ cadence of speaking he can't drop to save his life, but he's taking this for a career Oscar; I hate that Charles isn't there, but if it wasn't him I'd give it to Sterling or De Niro, who gave one of my favorite performances in his career and was SO disgusting and menacing in Killers. Haven't seen Ruffalo, so if it was up to me depending on his performance I'd toss out RDJ for Charles Melton and possibly shuffle some other people around.

Best Supporting Actress: Lol Emily was horrible in Oppenheimer and I'll die on that hill, generally liking her as an actress; Da'Vine will win this and she was amazing in The Holdovers but the director really sours it for me; happy for Danielle, haven't seen TCP; America shouldn't be there but whatever; I literally though Nyad was about a mythological creature until I Googled last night and found out it was about a swimmer.

Best Director: This is going to go to Christopher Nolan for one of his better movies but not his best because that is FAR. AND AWAY. THE PRESTIGE. Should go to Scorsese, his direction for Killers is why (to me) that movie still felt like it was moving at a clip despite the length.

[tongueofcat]

Bazaar Time

Fandom: Dungeons & Dragons (TTRPG)

Pairing: M/F (Original Characters)

Tags: Fluff, Shopping, Funny, Cute, First Dates, Kissing, Food, Eating, Talking, and Teasing

Word Count: 1,618

Link to Ao3

Important Notes: Written sometime in 2020 based on a Dungeons & Dragons campaign I was a part of. Sequel to Knight Time, which can be found here (warning: smut link)!

The next morning Celeste woke to sun beaming in through the open balcony. She sat up and stretched before looking down at Kieran. He was still asleep, this chest slowly rising up and down with each inhale and exhale. Gingerly, Celeste reached out and combed his bangs to sit behind his ears and took note of all of his scars.

Kieran was covered in scars, with his face having a lot of little ones. She thought back to her dreams, to the hamlet in the valley; the chanting heavy in her thoughts. Celeste shook her head, trying to get her creepy vision dreams out of her head.

“Celeste?”

The princess blinked and saw Kieran looking back at her, his silver eyes gleaming up at her, bright and awake. Her face melted into a smile, “Hey sleepyhead, good morning.”

He grinned and reached a hand up to cup her cheek, rubbing small circles into her skin, “Good morning!”

“You’re peppy,” She giggled, leaning into his hand. The tiefling nodded, letting go of her cheek and slowly sat up, “Yeah, I’m excited! We can finally go to the bazaar.”

Celeste giggled and began to climb out of bed, “We better get dressed then.”

“Right.” Kieran followed suit, crawling out of bed behind her.

They both pulled on their clothes and set off, down the hall and into the sitting area where they found Fenris asleep on one of the massive couches. Flower came out from another hallway with a bundle of cloth in her arms.

“Shh,” Flower put a clawed finger to her lips, “He tuckered himself out.”

Kieran and Celeste watched as the large tigress tabaxi place a sheer blanket over the sleeping prince. They looked at each other, thinking about the previous night and the princess piped up, “Did he not make it to his room?”

“No,” the tigress smiled, combing back his bangs to get a look at his face, “Don’t worry you two, you weren’t loud.”

Kieran laughed awkwardly and took Celeste’s hand, pulling, “Well we are going to the bazaar now!”

Flower smiled, “Okay, have fun!”

The tiefling pulled the princess out of the palace and into the open air. The air was heavy with humidity and the sun shone brightly through the gaps in the jungle canopy.

“Sorry...” Celeste looked up at Kieran, squeezing his hand, “I was trying to be quiet, but—“

Kieran sighed and let out a chuckle, smiling down at her, “Don’t apologize; I don’t regret last night, do you?”

“No.” Her face was flushed.

Kieran’s face looked relieved; he laughed, “Good, I was worried.”

Before Celeste could say anything in retort, the knight pulled her down the many steps and started looking for the bazaar.

“I can smell the bazaar...” Kieran began, squeezing Celeste’s hand before letting go. The princess watched him sniff the air, his tail flicking about thoughtfully.

Then they proceeded to wander around the city, going in what seemed like circles until Celeste stopped them, “Hey Kieran, are we lost?”

The knight laughed nervously, his silver eyes looking down at her in defeat, “Maybe... yes, we are.”

“Hold on, I’m going to look up there,” Celeste pointed up at the roof of the building and started taking steps back, her eyes focused.

“Wait, hold on I’m sure we can just...” Kieran watched her take a running jump up and onto the roof, “... ask for directions...”

Celeste looked out, pulling her hair to one side of her face and braiding it as she looked around, “I see it! We’re right by it!”

The princess casually climbed up and off the roof, landing beside Kieran. He looked impressed, to say the least.

“What?” Celeste smiled, nudging him playfully.

“Nothing, just that was really impressive.”

They turned the corner and there they were — hundreds of brightly colored stalls littered the city. The smell of cooked meats and sweets hung high and peddlers were shouting about their wares to various passersby. There were multicolored mounds of spice on trays being displayed and being scooped from. The place was absolutely massive.

Kieran bounced on his heels excitedly and extended his hand to Celeste. She took it, giggling at his excitement and was pulled forward, into the bazaar. They entered the fray and the princess found herself her head left and right looking at all the various goods; there were lush rugs of meticulous design being displayed and fruit that was being diced for a recipient right in front of them. There were also long shanks of meat hanging by hooks to be purchased beside book vendors with many books stacked on tables for display.

Celeste stopped at the books and Kieran paused, smiling at her, “Want to check them out?”

“Yes,” she squeezed his hand and let go, approaching the book vendor.

“Hello, dearie...” a rather old leopard tabaxi grinned, showing a lack of multiple teeth. The princess smiled at her, “Hello, good morning.”

“Good morning, ma’am.” Kieran nodded to her, following Celeste into the little maze of tables that held the vendor’s wares.

They spent a good while there, Celeste looking at books and picking out five. Kieran put them in his bag of holding after paying the vendor.

“I’m glad you found something you like!” She counted the coin on the table and smiled, “Oh let me get your change...”

After the book stall, Kieran tugged then through the bazaar until he stopped in his tracks at a vendor selling earrings. He squeezed her hand and led her forward, to the vendor and smiled at the young teenaged tabaxi running the stall.

“Uh, hello! Hi! What are you looking for today?” They asked, clasping their paws together, excited to make a sale.

Kieran pointed a finger at what Celeste considered one of the most obnoxious earrings imaginable. They were huge and must be spelled to glimmer excessively. The stall keeper blanched, looking at the piece and saying, “Are you sure?”

“They’re brilliant!” He exclaimed and the tabaxi took them out and handled them, causing them to make jingling noises. Kieran’s eyes lit up.

“They make noises?” The princess giggled and the stall keeper sighed, nodding, “My mom about killed me when I made these, told me nobody would buy it.”

“I’ll take them!” The knight smiled, placing coin on the stall and excitedly taking the earrings from the surprised tabaxi.

The tiefling hurriedly put on the earrings and wagged his head lightly, causing the earrings jingle with a ‘ding a ling a ling’.

“Celeste,” Kieran began, turning to her, causing the earrings the jingle, “What do you think?”

Celeste was biting back laughter, “You look gorgeous, Kieran.”

“Why,” he jingled, “Thank you, Celeste.”

Kieran wore them for a little bit before putting them away, back into their box. The pair walked around the bazaar, picking up some sweets and skewered meat, until they found a little alcove down an alley way with a stone fountain and they decided to take a rest.

Celeste sat down on the fountain’s edge and patted the spot next to her. Kieran sat next to her and handed her one of the meat skewers.

“Thank you,” she took the skewer and immediately started ripping off a chunk of meat and puckering her mouth, fanning herself, “Hot, hot, hot!”

Kieran laughed and watched her swallow and grimace, “You know, food is sometimes served hot.”

“Oh shut up,” she snorted and began to blow on her skewer before taking a cautious bite, a much smaller one this time, “Oh wow... it’s delicious.”

They sat there for a while, silently eating from their skewers until Kieran broke the silence.

“Celeste?”

The princess paused, taking time to swallow the meat in her mouth and looked to him, “Yes?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

Celeste blinked at the statement, “What would you like to know?”

“Hmm,” Kieran thought, pausing to taking a bite of his skewered meat, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” She smiled, “What about you?”

He smiled back, “Silver.”

They sat there, exchanging tidbits of information for what seemed like minutes but in actuality was more like an hour.

“When I was younger, Fenris used to take me around the castle and talk about all the cool history within it. We were always really close.” Celeste explained, popping a custard bun into her mouth and biting down.

“So you always got along with your siblings? That’s nice.” Kieran also bit into a bun, some of the custard spewed out into the cobblestone road, “Well, shoot...”

Celeste handed him another bun, “Yeah, and Delphine and I would sneak out and explore the city. We would get into all sorts of trouble.”

Kieran smirked, “I see that hasn’t changed, Miss Baggins.”

“Shut up!” Celeste giggled, but Kieran continued.

“Do you like bags?”

“Noooo!” She squealed, pushing at him playfully. He laughed, allowing himself to be pushed and then finally stood up, dusting sugar off his hands and clothes. Celeste sucked the last of the cream off her fingers and followed suit, patting her bandeau and harem pants of sugar, then she looked at him.

The princess smiled at him, her brown eyes reflecting warmth at him. He smiled back and bent down for a kiss. She kissed back, stepping forward until Kieran was against a stone wall. She reached her hands up and cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Kieran placed his hands on her hips, pulling her flush against him. They stayed there for a little while, languidly kissing each other until Kieran broke the kiss, pulling back.

“Wow... you are dangerous.” the tiefling sighed, kissing her forehead and taking her hand in his.

Celeste giggled and squeezed his hand, “Come on, let’s go back.”

[whitepolaris]

Ghosts from All Over the State

Boscobel

Ghosts aplenty are said to haunt the old Boscobel Hotel. Celebrity shades John F. Kennedy and his wife, Jackie, may haunt room 19, which the former first lady used as a place to "freshen up" during a campaign stop in March 1960. Or maybe the ghosts of John Nicholson and Samuel Hill haunt the room. These two traveling salesmen met here in September 1898. They later formed the Gideon Society, dedicated to placing Bibles in hotel rooms around the world. Or maybe the spirit is Adam Bobel, who built the hotel in 1865. Columnist Ralph Goldsmith once penned this ode to Bobel, the only bit of Wisconsin doggerel we know of dedication to a ghost: "The ghost of Adam Bobel came a knockin' at the door. 'Come in, come' I says to him. 'But don't track up the floor. It's newly washed this afternoon.' And then I shook with fright, for Adam stood before me, with the door still fastened tight."

Campbellsport

The Amber Hotel, a popular supper club and bar at 139 West Main, is home to the ghost of Ed "Mush" Bauer, a former owner. A true larger-than-life legend, Bauer once tipped the scales at a not-so-spectral eight hundred pounds and was renowned as one of the world's physically largest hotel-and-tavern owners. At the age of his death in January 1957 at the age of fifty, Bauer had slimmed down considerably, to a mere four hundred pounds. Much loved the Amber and can still be heard clumping around the building. "There are so many rooms upstairs, we heard different noises," says Lois Zingsheim, who her husband, Dale, currently owns the hotel. "We say it's him walking around up there. He gets lonely when we are gone."

Edgerton

The Fuchs family met Pete Oppengaard face-to-face only once, in unusual circumstances on a chilly November morning in 1987. Shirley Fuchs woke from a restless sleep to find Pete standing at the foot of her bed. He was dressed in something blue that extended over his head. Pete had died twenty-four years earlier, in 1963, so perhaps it was a shroud. Shirley had known Pete as a child-she had often visited his home to share sugar doughnuts with the old guy. Now, as an adult, she was living in his former home, and despite Pete's face being covered by the blue shroud, she knew right off who it was. Shirley's son, Alex, saw him too. This was the sole occasion any of the Fuchs family saw Pete in person, though he continued to reside in the house for several more years. The night he chose to reveal himself was the very night his widow, Hilda, died in a Stoughton nursing home. Pete was a playful soul, and when he did manifest himself, it was always in a lighthearted manner-taking small objects, turning lights on and off, moving furniture, and leaving dirty wineglasses on the table, presumably his.

Elm Grove

The two-story farmhouse at 1920 Highland Drive has at least three long-term resident ghosts. They're spooky but friendly. An older female ghost with her hair pulled back sometimes walks down a hallway. She wears a striped floor-length dress gathered at the waist. Sometimes a little girl is seen peering into cupboards and a ghostly dog is heard paddling, his toenails clicking across the uncarpeted floor. Demo, the son of the man who owns the house, had the most unnerving encounter of all. "I thought I heard my dad in the other room snoring," Demo said. "It bothered me, and I had to shut the door. I went in the other room and looked on the couch, where I thought he was lying, and he wasn't there. Needless to say, the hair went up on my head. I flew out the back door as fast as I could. It was a good excuse not to do my homework."

Green Bay

For many Green Bay Packers fans, Vince Lombardi was like God-he could do it all. And like God, Vince is all around us even though he can't be seen. Marie Lombardi, Vince's window, used to "visit with" her dead husband at his exhibit in the Packer Hall of Fame. According to Lombardi's biographer David Maraniss, "She certainly talked to him or believed she talked to him after he died. I got recordings of a speech she was going to give at the Pro Football Hall of Fame. She was practicing it, and she stopped and startled, and you could hear the address Vince like he was there."

Mark Kanz of the Packer Hall of Fame agrees. "Once in a while, it looks like something is a little out of place or awry, and it seems like the ghost is a good place to lay the blame." Then there's the local businessman who gave up a fifty-yard seat for the 1996 NFC Championship-the first played in three decades-"so Vince's ghost would have a good seat."

John Gehring, a Green Bay psychiatrist, a purchased Lombardi's home in 1969, when the coach went to the Washington Redskins. Lombardi used to watch films of games in his basement and had his home office there. Gehring says, "Sometimes you get a feeling that Vince is here. When there's a bad game or a bad play, you can hear someone walking around here."

Fans around the country were startled to see a familiar-looking figure staring back at the TV camera, wearing the trademark hat and brown coat and standing atop a pile of snow as he watched the victory parade in 1997, following the Packers' trouncing of the New England Patriots 35-21 in Super Bowl XXXI. Turns out it was a man had attended the same church Lombardi had once attended. However, many fans weren't convinced. They believe it was Vince himself.

Still not convinced? Keep an eye on the sports pages or your ears open to football commentary for the number of times Vince Lombardi's ghost is invoked. You'll be surprised. If Wisconsin has a most famous ghost, known the world over, it's that of Vince Lombardi. Asked about replacing a legend, former head Packer coach Lindy Infante said, "There is a ghost of Lombardi here, but it's a friendly ghost."

Hartland

Ghost Harvey's claim to fame is that he contributed to a soundtrack recorded at Hartland's Millevolte Recording Studio in 2000. Owner Vinny Millevolte dubbed the ghost Harvey, naming him after invisible rabbit from the famous play and movie. Millevolte said that during a recording session, a heartbeat-like sound showed up on one of the tracks, though no one present played that beat. Harvey wasn't the only ghost alone in haunting the building, which backs up against the hill below the cemetery. "Late at night, you can sometimes hear doors creaking, someone coming up the stairs, or something in the kitchen," says Millevolte. "I always have to look."

Madison

In 1989, four university women sharing a house on North Brearley Street experienced lights flashing on and off, appliances coming to life for no reason, and loud music blaring from the switched-off stereo. Joy, who was home alone with the doors locked, was napping one afternoon until blaring music jolted her awake. Every light was on in the living room, and the dining-room chandelier was lit. All the kitchen cupboards were open, the front door was unlocked, and the screen door was ajar, as if the ghost had made a hurried exist. Sarah couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't scream. Sometimes the old hag stared down at her from a perch in the chandelier. Amy couldn't stand the feeling of being stared at by unseen presence while the claw-foot tub and refused to bathe there. The fourth roommate had nightmares about what was behind the door leading to the attic. Later the women learned that their landlord's mother, who had lived in the house for eighty years, had died in it.

Milwaukee

Hands down, Aunt Pussy has the best name of any ghost we know. Though long gone, she still holds a tight grip on the Brumder Mansion at 3046 West Wisconsin Avenue, as she haunts the Gold Suite. The Victorian mansion is now a bed-and-breakfast, and the Gold Suite was formerly Aunt Pussy's room. An austere, fussy German immigrant when she was alive, Aunt Pussy remains so in death, frequently expressing disapproval for owner Carol Hirschi's ornate decorating. Aunt Pussy is known to rearrange window shades according to her half-shuttered, half-open preference, and she frequently fusses with table settings. Most of all, she doesn't like dogs, especially when they're on the bed. A creepy feeling awoke Carol one night, and she got the distinct impression that Aunt Pussy was really ticked off that one of Carol's dogs was sleeping with her on the bed.

The list of Aunt Pussy's alleged ghostly activities continues. A visiting Native American medicine man complained of many chatty spirits in the Gold Suite, and one psychic went "completely off her nut" after spending a night there. At one point, the suite's mirror moved across the room, landing in the bathtub without breaking. Then Carol found fresh droplets of blood in the bathroom, though she was the only person home. And for years, the doorbell refused to work for guests, and the programmable tune would always change from the one Carol had chosen. Eventually Carol let Aunt Pussy pick the tun3e, and so long as "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" or "Happy Birthday" is selected, she's as happy as any austere German woman can be.

Pipe

Club Harbor, built in 1846 as a stagecoach hotel and later used as a bed-and-breakfast, began showing its ghostly side after Chris Bray purchased the building in 1999 and began renovations. At first, Bray noticed little things such as lights being turned on after hours. "Somebody wanted to party," he says. "Some people have stayed here don't really recall what the checkout time is." A rotund Asian man with a Fu Manchu mustache who had once worked at Club Harbor as a cook manifested before Bray's eyes in a medicine-cabinet mirror. Then there's the mischievous young dark-haired girl with pigtails who runs through the hallways slamming doors. Remember, if you go looking for ghosts, consider taking some time for the ghosts to get used to you. "It's like deer hunting," cautions Bray. "You have to sit still and be like that for a long time before you hear something."

Rochester

The first tavern in western Racine County was the Union House, now Chances restaurant in Rochester, built in 1843. Co-owner Deb Schuerman says, "We've had the cash register do crazy things when it's not even plugged in. And one time, I saw on the second floor taking inventory when I heard this beautiful music that sounded like piano music. We don't even have a piano! It was almost like a harpsichord." There's also a young Civil War soldier and a woman in a green dress who are often seen in the building."

Sawyer County

Professional fishing guide and longtime firefighter Al Denninger says, "I intended to keep quiet about it. I didn't want to sound like people who have lunch with Elvis or just talked to God." But people all up and down the Chippewa Flowage were talking about the polaroid photo Denninger had snapped while fishing the "Big Chip" in October 1991. The picture shows an amorphous animallike shape shrouded in white and suspended in front of the tree line. According to Denninger, his client was the first to spot the apparition. "All of a sudden he looked at me, his mouth wide open and his face white as a ghost, and said, 'Al, wha-wha-what's that?' I looked up and saw it coming down through the trees on the island just across the channel."

The two fishermen said the white-robed ghost remained in position for about a minute and a half drifting to the left and away through the trees. "All this time, it never changed shape. And it had been raining for five straight days, so smoke was not a possibility. Besides, I know what smoke looks like." Denninger sent the photo to Polaroid for analysis. "When they gave it back, they said. 'Whatever that thing is, it's not a doctored negative or trick.' Anyway, you can't tamper with Polaroids-there is no negative." Denninger later discovered that for years, locals had been referring to the area of his photo as Ghost Island, based on a number of other strange encounters there.

West Bend

The RESTAT Building at 724 Elm Street was built in 1897 and today houses the RESTAT prescription benefit management company. It previously housed the West Bend High School, and in later incarnations was home to the elementary school, the library, and even the city's recreation center. In an all-too-frequent scenario that's become a ghostly cliché, this building is haunted by a janitor. This janitor committed suicide in the school's basement, and from all accounts, he wasn't-and-isn't-all that nice. According to Jackie Maynard, a former instructor at the recreation center, "The ghost tended to mess with females; not too many men ran into him. It was definitely a male spirit. He was never menacing, but there was a distinctive presence, cold spots where you could feel the hair on your arms stand up. In the morning, things would be moved on people's desks."

[spiced-koi-friend]

It Feels Right

A little over a week has gone by, and the final debate is coming up. You get a bit of help from the people around you with the prep work, and feel more confident than ever. Octavio gets the photo Altare asked for, but someone stops him on his way to deliver.

Previous Chapter

Assassin!Goldbullet x Politician!F!Reader, TW: stalking Words: 1501 | Rating: R | AO3

It’s difficult getting you out of the house, but they’ve beefed up security everywhere you go. Your boys have been stable pillars through all this, letting you lean on them as times are tough for you. Ruze has been hyping you up through pep talks before each rally, being your number one hype man. It’s a bit strange seeing him be so energetic, but you know he’s trying to get you back to your normal self. Gabriel has been sneaking kisses with you backstage, saying how proud he is of you and how brave you’re being by doing all of this. 

The final debate is in a few days, letting out all the final words to exchange with Altare. The venue for the debate has been preparing measures to ensure your protection, although it was pointed out to you by one of the staff that no one has attempted on Altare, despite him being the less popular option.

“The irony is not lost on me, I’m afraid. Would it be too much to ask that a piece of bulletproof glass be put between us as well?”

“Absolutely not, we’ll get on with that. The authorities will also be posted nearby, just in case.”

“Normally I’d think that was excessive, but I appreciate the overly cautious attitude towards my safety.”

“It’s the least we can do. We look forward to your reelection, miss.”

“I just hope I last that long.”

Gabriel pulls you off to the side by your waist as you move back towards your car, surprising you with a kiss to your neck.

“Hi, I missed you.”

“I was twenty feet away! You literally are paid to be by my side!”

“Fine, I missed your lips.”

His arms wrap around your waist as he dips you into a kiss, one that makes you melt right in his hold.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes~?”

He just laughs at your exasperation with him, helping you back onto your feet. You flick his nose and he breaks for a moment, staring at the tip of it before shaking himself out of it.

“Oh that was adorable.”

“Wh- hey!”

You flick him again, running over to Ruze and hiding behind him with laughter. Ruze just looks at you from under his arm, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not paid to protect you from your own dumbass decisions. I’m not helping you with this.”

He moves out of the way as Gabriel scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder and holding tight no matter how much you struggle.

“Put me down!!”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Ruze just cackles at the sight of you being yoinked like this, following behind to the car. You meet up with Bettel, Shinri, and Verdant at a nearby cafe, where Bettel has your debate briefing prepared.

“Alright. So I’ve made a list of all the questions they might ask you, and filled in as many as I could with the policies that you’ve already put in place, or advertised with your campaign. There’s just a few I’m missing, but I figured you were going to take these and type up your own notes anyways.”

Bettel passes over a decently thick stack of papers, typed out neatly and organized far nicer than you’d usually get from him.

“These look great, Bettel. Thank you for doing that.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s my job? But also I was bored as shit and I just treated it like I was taking a personality quiz for you.”

“...you’ve said more concerning things. Alright.”

There’s a round of laughter that goes around the table as your drinks arrive, which brings the discussion around to more casual subjects. Ruze has gotten into showing Shinri pictures of his geckos, talking in depth about all of the care he puts into them with their diets and how much they get to roam around. It’s a little cute seeing how fast he starts talking when he’s talking about his geckos, a very proud gecko dad indeed.

“Yeah, my roommate is looking after them right now along with my cats. I brought Zephie with me because he gets anxious if I’m gone for too long, and honestly having him around to clean up the bugs has been a bit nice.”

“I have to admit that seeing him nab that moth the other day was a bit amusing.”

“Oh yeah, I simba him up towards our lights all the time so he can get the bugs in there. Jurard keeps screaming whenever he enters the dining room and there’s the outline of a gecko in the light cover. I just think it’s funny.”

Ruze cackles as he leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on the bar under the table.

“How’d you meet your roommate, Ruze?”

“He’s some rich kid that got sent to the same military camp I did. We were bunkmates and eventually ended up doing a lot of things together. I hate his guts but there’s no one’s guts I’d rather hate. And don’t worry, it’s a mutual feeling.”

Gabriel just looks a little shocked at Ruze’s admittance, but at least he got his answer. He turns to you, grabbing your chair and slowly pulling you over close to him so he can wrap his arm around you. He enjoys holding you close now that both of you are a bit more comfortable being openly affectionate with one another, even if you are a bit cautious in public. He’s been trying to see how many times he can sneak a kiss or an ass grab under the guise of protecting you. You have no idea what his count is, but considering how many times he’s tried, you’d guess it’s fairly high. 

…

Octavio has been following you around for a few days, although it’s been hard to track you since the kidnapping attempt. He doesn’t know if that was Altare’s work or not, and frankly he’s too scared to find out. With camera in hand, he wanders around the plaza, taking pictures of the wildlife and occasionally of you and Gabriel together.

When he captures a shot of him pulling you up into a kiss, his heart jumps in his chest and he moves quickly to his car. He scrolls through his other photos as well, but when he glances up, dread starts building up inside him. Axel is standing there, leaning against his car. He summons Octavio over with a little wave, standing in front of the driver’s side door. Octavio cautiously walks over, keeping his distance in case he needs to run.

“You got the photo the boss asked for?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Delete it.”

Octavio is stunned, looking all over Axel’s face to see if he’s joking.

“But I thought he-”

“Fuck what he wants. He’s been going on a power trip for long enough and I’m done playing pawn to him. Delete the photo, I’ll pay you instead.”

Axel pulls out a cheque and hands it to Octavio, and it’s far more than what he was probably going to get for the photo.

“...how do I know this isn’t a set up?”

“Look. He wants the mayor dead, so he can win. That boyfriend of hers is an assassin he hired to kill her. The longer I’ve been working for the boss, the more I realize I don’t want him in charge, like, at all. After the election, I’m quitting and putting in an application elsewhere. This isn’t proof she’s a bad person, it’s blackmail for you to do his bidding.”

“But I thought he said it’s not illegal?”

“He will use his rich fucking lawyer friends to prove that you were stalking her, and maybe even that you were there on the night he hired those guys to kidnap her. I’m trying to help you, bro. I’ve seen what he does to people, and you need to stay away.”

There’s pain behind Axel’s eyes, pleading with Octavio to delete the photos and run. He mulls it over, realizing that Axel would have no reason to try and keep him away if he had not endured worse.

“Why are you helping me?”

“An old friend is getting dragged back into the business by Altare, using me as a threat if he doesn’t comply. I can’t fight him, not after what Altare did to him. I’m done being used as a stupid guard dog. I want more out of life, to not feel like I’m on the wrong side anymore.”

Octavio nods, taking the cheque and deleting the photos in front of Axel. He shows him the other photos as well, which Axel gives him a proud pat on the back for.

“Make sure you cash the cheque on the other side of town. Even better if you can do it out of the country.”

“Thanks, I mean it. You’re not as bad as Altare makes you feel you are.”

Octavio gets in his car, driving off and leaving Axel feeling like he finally did something right.

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

Today I want to tell you the dangers posed by an out-of-control Elon Musk (in part I), and six ways to rein him in (in part II). I also provide some personal evidence of how bonkers he is (in my P.S. at the end of today’s letter).

I. Elon Musk is Out of Control

Elon Musk is rapidly transforming his enormous wealth — he’s the richest person in the world — into a huge source of unaccountable political power that’s now backing Trump and other global authoritarians.

Musk owns X, formerly known as Twitter. He has publicly endorsed Donald Trump. He is spending as much as $180 million on transforming the Republican Party’s field organizing program to help Trump — to which he has brought in new leadership, including a new personal aide to help him make political decisions. 

Trump and Musk have both floated the idea of governing together if Trump wins a second term. “I think it would be great to just have a government efficiency commission,” Musk said in an August 11 conversation with Trump, streamed on X. “And I’d be happy to help out on such a commission.”

In that same conversation, Trump congratulated Musk for his willingness to fire workers seeking higher wages and better working conditions. “You’re the greatest cutter,” Trump said. “I mean, I look at what you do. You walk in, you just say: ‘You want to quit?’ They go on strike — I won’t mention the name of the company — but they go on strike. And you say: ‘That’s okay, you're all gone.’”

As the interview concluded, Musk told Trump, “I think we’re at a fork in the road of destiny, of civilization, and I think we need to take the right path, and I think you’re the right path.”

Weeks later, Musk reposted a faked version of Kamala Harris’s first campaign video with an altered voice track sounding like Harris and saying she doesn’t “know the first thing about running the country” and is the “ultimate diversity hire.” Musk tagged the video “amazing.” It’s gotten hundreds of millions of views, so far.

The Michigan secretary of state has accused the Musk-supported America PAC of tricking people into sharing personal data. Although the PAC’s website promises to help users register to vote, it allegedly asks users in battleground states to give their names and phone numbers without directing them to a voter registration site — and then uses that information to send them anti-Harris and pro-Trump ads.

According to a new report from the Center for Countering Digital Hate, Musk himself has so far this year posted 50 false election claims on X to his nearly 200 million followers. They’ve got a total of 1.2 billion views. None of them had a “community note” from X’s supposed fact-checking system.

Evidence is mounting that Russia and other foreign agents are using X to disrupt this year’s presidential race, presumably in favor of Trump. Musk has done little to stop them.

Meanwhile, Musk is supporting right-wing causes around the world.

In the UK, far-right thugs burned, looted, and terrorized minority communities after Musk’s X spread misinformation about a deadly attack on schoolgirls. Musk not only allowed instigators of this hate to spread these lies, but he retweeted and supported them.

At least eight times in the past 10 months, Musk has predicted a future civil war related to immigration. When anti-immigration street riots occurred across Britain, he wrote: “civil war is inevitable.”

The European Union commissioner Thierry Breton sent Musk an open letter reminding him of EU laws against amplifying harmful content “that promotes hatred, disorder, incitement to violence, or certain instances of disinformation” and warning that the EU “will be extremely vigilant” about protecting “EU citizens from serious harm.”

Musk’s response was a meme that said: “TAKE A BIG STEP BACK AND LITERALLY, F*CK YOUR OWN FACE!”

Elon Musk calls himself a “free speech absolutist,” but he has accepted over 80 percent of censorship requests from authoritarian governments. Two days before the Turkish elections, he blocked accounts critical of the president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. 

Musk says he’ll follow the law wherever it operates, but he’s fighting a Brazilian Supreme Court justice who ordered Brazil’s telecom agency to block access to X because X has “allowed the massive spread of disinformation, hate speech and attacks on the democratic rule of law, violating the free choice of the electorate, by keeping voters away from real and accurate information.”

Musk’s friendly relations with authoritarians often coincide with beneficial treatment of his businesses. Shortly after Musk suggested handing Taiwan over to the Chinese government, Tesla got a tax break from the Chinese government. Musk has backed Argentina’s Javier Milei, who then provided Musk access to his country’s lithium — crucial to Tesla’s batteries. Musk has backed India’s Narendra Modi and secured lower import tariffs for Tesla’s vehicles in India. 

**

II. How to Rein Musk In 

He may be the richest man in the world. He may own one of the world’s most influential social media platforms. He may lash out at anyone who dares criticize him. (After The Guardian published an earlier version of this post, Musk went on a Trump-like rant to his nearly 200 million followers, launching ad hominem attacks on me without disputing what I said. More details in the P.S. at the end of this letter.)

But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless to stop him.

Here are six ways to rein in Musk:

1. Boycott Tesla.

Consumers shouldn’t be making him even richer and able to do even more harm. A Tesla boycott may have already begun; a recent poll found that one-third of Britons are less likely to buy a Tesla because of Musk’s recent behavior.

2. Advertisers should boycott X.

A coalition of major advertisers has organized such a boycott. Musk is suing them under antitrust law. “We tried peace for 2 years, now it is war,” he wrote on X, referring to advertisers who criticize him and X.

3. Regulators around the world should stop Musk from disseminating lies and hate on X.

On August 24, French authorities arrested Pavel Durov, founder of the online communications tool Telegram, which French authorities have found complicit in hate crimes and disinformation. Like Musk, Durov has styled himself as a free speech absolutist. I’m not arguing that Musk or any other disseminator of lies and hate must necessarily be charged with crimes, but they should be held legally responsible for what they publish.

4. In the United States, the Federal Trade Commission should demand that Musk take down lies that are likely to endanger individuals — and if he does not, sue him under Section 5 of the FTC Act.

Musk’s free-speech rights under the First Amendment don’t take precedence over the public interest. Two months ago, the Supreme Court said federal agencies may pressure social media platforms to take down misinformation — a technical win for the public good (technical because the court based its ruling on the plaintiff’s lack of standing to sue).

5. The U.S. government — and we taxpayers — have additional power over Musk, if we’re willing to use it. The U.S. should terminate its contracts with him, starting with Musk’s SpaceX. 

In 2021, the United States entered into a $1.8 billion classified contract with SpaceX that includes blasting off classified and military satellites, according to The Wall Street Journal. The funds are now an important part of SpaceX’s revenue.

The Pentagon has also contracted with SpaceX’s Starlink broadband service to pay for internet links, despite Musk’s refusal in September 2022 to allow Ukraine to use Starlink to launch an attack on Russian forces in Crimea.

Last August, the Pentagon gave SpaceX’s Starshield unit $70 million to provide communications services to dozens of Pentagon partners.

Meanwhile, SpaceX is cornering the rocket launch market. Its rockets were responsible for two-thirds of flights from U.S. launch sites in 2022 and handled 88 percent in the first six months of this year.

In deciding upon which private-sector entities to contract with, the U.S. government is supposed to consider the contractor’s reliability. Musk’s mercurial, impulsive, childish temperament makes him and the companies he heads unreliable. The government is also supposed to consider whether it is contributing to a monopoly. Musk’s SpaceX is fast becoming one.

Why is the U.S. government allowing Musk’s satellites and rocket launchers to become crucial to the nation’s security when he’s shown utter disregard for the public interest? Why give Musk more economic power when he repeatedly abuses it and demonstrates contempt for the public good?

There is no good reason. American taxpayers should stop subsidizing Musk.

6. Make sure Musk’s favorite candidate for president is not elected.

***

PS: After The Guardian published an earlier version of this post, Musk went on a tirade — agreeing with a tweet calling me “a traitor to the American people;” then calling me “Robert Reichtard;” then saying “To be totally honest, I don’t want Reich arrested, as I wouldn’t want to inflict having listen to him upon his jailers. A fate worse than death!;” then identifying me as “a miniature wanker” (see below); then giving a thumbs-up emoji to a post saying I’m “so dumb as to think socialism is a good thing.”

[theblogs2024]

Political Marketing Campaign Music

Political Marketing Campaign Music

Among the actually great things concerning the political campaign period is definitely the wonderful amount of political enjoyment that comes about. This involves commercials, huge rallies and the main target of this information, political marketing campaign music. Throughout this certain campaign season every little thing looks magnified with the presence of candidate Trump, Particularly In terms of marketing campaign music. Two or three dust-ups transpired once the Trump marketing campaign made use of considered one of Neil Younger's tunes at some marketing campaign rallies. Evidently Young took some exception to that and questioned Trump to stop. Next Steven Tyler obtained to the act by inquiring Trump to not use Arrowsmith's music, "Dream On," which gave the impression to be a lot more of the theme track as it wasn't really published for your marketing campaign. Following that mini tempest Trump has decided to use glam band Twisted Sisters track, "We are Not Gonna Get It."

But there are many unofficial Trump tracks; Mac Miller comes to brain. Trump himself did not likely endorse the song as being the lyrics are pretty crude, even so Trump did voice his opinion that the music only had thirty million sights on YouTube, which was seemingly down below The Donald's standard. No sooner experienced Team Trump uttered Individuals terms when compared to the see complete climbed more than a single hundred million, As a result entering into a place which will share The Donald's rarefied air. But other humbler Trump tracks that are really fantastic and they are not inside the the very least vulgar are in existence like the "Mr. Trump Music." Though Trump mixes concept design and style tracks with tunes basically published about him other candidates typically stick to concept fashion tracks for their campaigns. The most memorable is most likely Franklin Delano Roosevelt's 1932 campaign concept music, "Satisfied Times Are Here Yet again." Harry Truman used "I'm Just Wild About Harry," which was basically composed in 1921 for your Broadway Musical. Nevertheless the campaign tracks which are greatest are the songs that actually identify the prospect and they are now not topic kind tunes. The 1st and best of most of these initiatives needs to be Frank Sinatra's John F. Kennedy's 1960 marketing campaign music in which the Sinatra reworked the lyrics to "High Hopes" by sticking Kennedy's identify in it. It had been a lark, but with that awesome major band at the rear of Sinatra's voice, perfectly it sounded excellent! The tune experienced all the vitality and enjoyment that we affiliate Together with the Kennedy campaign and presidency. Sinatra appeared to have completed the unattainable combining politics with pop songs without the need of sounding cornball. Lyndon Johnson attempted to stick to within the footsteps with the Kennedy track by possessing Ed Ames rework the "Hello Dolly" tune by Louis Armstrong into "Hello Lyndon." This rendition was not Great, really cornball, and regrettable in the light of LBJ's failed presidency. This delivers nearly some superior attempts in recent times at political tune crafting, most notably John Lennon's "Come Collectively," which he started to generate for Timothy Leary's gubernatorial marketing campaign in California. That energy came to an conclude when Leary was arrested, however John Lennon was capable to remodel Arrive Jointly into an awesome strike for his band The Beatles, which arrived out to the vastly thriving album Abbey Highway. It's possible eventually Trump has uncovered the right combination of topic design and style marketing campaign tracks, initial tunes, and goofy songs. However the election turns out, the campaign tunes circus is going to be missed. To know more details visit here: CM Jagan Birthday Special song

[2lim3rz]

It is my dream to have someone write an alternate story in which the position of loyal and traitor primarch are reversed. Maybe the Emperor went to fight besides Angron as his father while kidnapped Leman Russ rather than earn his respect, and so on. With Sanguinious as the Leading Traitor with Horus dying to protect Terra.

M a N, I wish I had the motivation to write proper chapter stories like Always Affected. Though, I personally like the Roboutian heresy AU... Sanguinious Heresy would be fuckin cool t o see

PLUS!! PLUS GOOD GUY HORUS! I LOVE GOOD GUY HORUS!