#Fallen Officers Memorial Service

[fishermanshook]

LOVING YOU IS ALL I NEED!

( batter , first officer & forward relationship h/c's ) + gn!reader

# think of this as a pt. 2 to this fic , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

How these men show their undying love for their one and only—you.

꒰wc꒱ 1.1k

✦— THE BATTER

Ganji Gupta didn’t dare dream of the day he’d find his one and only, his true love, someone to grow old and tired with until his heart gave out on itself. Unfortunately, his newfound situation halted any progress he could’ve made.

That was until you arrived at the manor with a letter to hell in your hands. That was until he got to know you better. That was until you shared your first kiss on New Year’s Eve. Ever since then, he’s been completely and utterly yours.

Ganji Gupta is the type of man to show his love and devotion to you through meaningful Acts of Service. There’s little to nothing the Batter wouldn’t do for you. He isn’t above taking hits for you in matches when needed, and he will use his last ball to save you from getting sent back to the manor.

Ganji Gupta who, as much as he loves being on his own, gets a bit lonely at times. Therefore, he loves nothing more than to spend some Quality Time with you. He prefers long walks around the perimeter of the manor and also enjoys getting to rest his head in your lap as the two of you lounge about.

Ganji Gupta teaches you the recipes passed down to him by his Mother. It makes for a great way to spend time together whilst making sure he doesn’t forget them in the process. Cooking with you brings back bittersweet memories and reminds him of his Mother all too much.

Ganji Gupta frequently wakes up from relentless night terrors. He’s heard of other Survivors describing their own experiences with them but didn’t think it would happen to him. Now he finds himself waking up in a cold sweat and alone in bed with nobody to calm him down. This leads to him sleeping in your dorm room more often than not in a way to help combat these nightmares. Hopefully, he can get some rest tonight thanks to your help.

✦— FIRST OFFICER

Who doesn’t know the brave young man Jose Baden? The Sea Knight who wields a pocket watch said to have been blessed by Posiden himself, the artifact that always ensures smooth sailing? The First Officer is punctual, humble, and always knows what he wants. He just didn’t expect it to be you.

Nonetheless, the heart can guide a man better than any map can. He may indeed have fallen for you first, but you undeniably fell harder. Although, who wouldn’t with the way he constantly sweeps you off your feet?

Jose Baden is always true to his words when it comes to you, and therefore showers you with Words of Affirmation. It makes communication between the two of you much easier when there’s nothing to hide. And there are only so many words to describe his love for you, so we’ll have to start from the top and work our way down.

Jose Baden, who cannot keep his hands off you. No matter where the two of you are. Physical Affection is this man's specialty and has been embedded into his DNA. It's the simple things like his pinky finger being entwined with yours or his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

Jose Baden isn’t afraid to show his love for you in front of others and would never shy away from it. It’s truly a gift to be head over heels, so why hide it? Why not show off what he’s got and everything that’s so precious about ‘em?

Jose Baden who can’t help but take a hit for you in games. He doesn’t ever want to see your blood spilled, and would rather have his coat on the map instead. He’s ready to face the stern talking you’ll give him after the match, but you’ll patch him up anyway.

Jose Baden doesn't like admitting the fact that he misses the sea badly. The things Jose would do just for an evening back on the ocean are wild and many. The closest thing he's got is Lakeside Village, but even the calming waves that brush upon the shore can't heal the pain in his heart. The Officer will admit his feelings to you in an act of desperation and comfort. And comfort he receives from you. From cuddling and listening to him rant about the ocean for the 100th time to peppering his face with soft kisses that seemingly never stop.

✦— FORWARD

Said to have been the creator of Rugby himself, you always want William Ellis on your team. He successfully lifts the spirits of all his teammates while headbutting into the Hunter just before they use excitement. It's the thought that counts, right?

To have William in your corner means to have someone who is with you through thick and thin. Someone who will stick by your side until the end of time itself. And until you can finally realize just how much the Rugby Star adores you.

William Ellis who can’t help but hold you close. Physical Affection is this man’s go-to for showing how much he loves you. Like Jose, he will never feel embarrassed or ashamed when showering you with his form of love and affection. He’s either got an arm around your waist or your hand in his—there’s no in-between.

William Ellis loves Giving Gifts just as much as he loves Receiving Them. While the Forward’s not the best at picking out pre-made gifts, he is the best at making ones straight from the heart. Using his clues and fragments, he’ll craft something he finds worthy of gifting you. Whether it be something like a small, red box in the shape of a heart or a bracelet that has your and his initials on it, the gifts are all made with you in mind.

That being said, William Ellis will treasure anything you gift him in return. And that can be anything. Silly little notes passed underneath the table during dinner. A beaded anklet that has left a tan mark because he never takes it off. Or a smaller version of his Ruby ball with every stitch being almost exact.

William Ellis who’s afraid he might not be good enough for you. Who fears that one day he may be forgotten by everyone he’s ever loved. Maybe that’s why he works so damn hard. To prove to himself (and others) that he’s worth remembering. Fortunately, there’s no need to go the extra mile when it comes to you. William’s proven himself more than enough already, hasn’t he?

note: a little gift for all my Ganji, William, and Jose lovers out there. made 4: @rieuvie + @williamkisser + @ch6douin +@jklovu + @5ku11h34rt

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[paperstorm]

In Loving Memory

Oops my hand slipped and I wrote a little something for @carlos-in-glasses based on this detail she noticed.

Carlos hates funerals.

It feels like such a silly thought – of course no one likes funerals – but he’s never known what he’s supposed to do at them. They purport to be places of mourning and closure, an appropriate outlet for grief so that people can feel it surrounded by love and family and then begin the process of carrying on. But Carlos has never felt like he’s allowed to cry. He remembers sniffling at the funeral of his great grandmother when he was very small, and one of his older cousins nudging him and informing him boys don’t cry. If he isn’t allowed to grieve, if he’s supposed to lock it up and shove it away and be stronger than his sadness, he doesn’t know the purpose of any of it. He could have just stayed home, stayed in bed with his fiancé, who would let him cry even if the world won’t.

TK is clinging to his arm. It’s awkward to hold hands in the white cotton gloves of their dress uniforms, fingers clumsy and thicker than usual so they don’t thread together like they would if they were only bare skin, so TK’s holding his arm instead as a means of sticking to his side. Carlos appreciates it, even though he despises the looks he knows they’re getting. He wishes the sight of them together could be so normal and boring that no one would even blink, but it’s an acceptable price to pay for having TK’s warmth and floral cologne filtering through his senses. TK’s presence might be the only thing that’s keeping Carlos upright.

There’s a small collection of framed pictures on a table just before the entrance to the room, with a candle and a floral arrangement and the guest book. Carlos pauses next to it, swallowing thickly as he looks down at his own face smiling back at him, arm around his dad. The pain of it comes unevenly, he’s found. There are moments it feels just like a fact that he’s gone, and there are other moments when Carlos realizes he already can’t remember what his papá smelled like.

TK’s fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his inner arm.

Carlos’s gaze travels to the word Memory in calligraphy. His eyes skim typed words in a metal frame, finding his own name along with his sisters’. The ones left behind, the ones who will remember the fallen soldier. Some of his colleagues will miss him, Carlos is sure. They’ll think of a joke Ranger Reyes would have found funny and then sigh as they realize he isn’t in his office anymore. But they will move on. His role will be taken over by someone just as capable. His absence won’t leave a hole in their lives that can never be filled.

The word son catches his eye, and Carlos frowns and tucks his head to look closer. His legacy will continue to live on through his son’s own dedication to public service, is written at the bottom of the thin obituary.

Read the rest on AO3

[freesia-writes]

OMFG!!! Congrats on the 500 sweetface!!! That's gotta feel amazing <3

For the prompt, could I possibly have #10 with Fives?

hehehe thanks so much friend! Heeeere you go! Also... these are getting LONGER... I'm concerned that by the time I get to #13 they're gonna be like 10k words, LOL. That being said, hopefully this is a delight! I never realized how nerve-wracking it could be to try to write for someone; you want it to be everything they ever dreamed of but you're a totally separate brain, with only one line to go off of! LOL. And it's so hard to end these! I want to write a whole novel off of each one. ;)

“You shouldn't be with him. You should be… with me." - Fives Word Count: 3.7k Content Warnings: None really Fives x GN!Reader with a boyfriend ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was arrival day, and you were already dreading the agenda that lay ahead of you. Two separate squads and their Venator-class cruisers were scheduled for a quick turnover, requiring immediate service, detailed repairs, and thorough inspection before being ready to go as quickly as possible. Somehow it felt as though it had been happening more often lately, and you were starting to wonder how many of these damn cruisers there were. Your team was starting to chafe against the longer hours and constant pressure, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel -- a few days off, provided there were no unscheduled arrivals that would throw the whole thing out the window. 

The first cruiser docked with a whoosh, and the debarkation routine began. The previously-empty platform was suddenly swarming with mechanics, droids, shuttles, officers, and troopers, each headed in their own direction. Your boyfriend jostled your shoulder playfully as your crew headed for the ion engines, walking ahead of you to catch up with some other friends. You offered a feeble smile but weren’t quite sure what he was aiming for. Sometimes he treated you more like a “bro” than his girlfriend, except when he wanted… well… you know. But he had been kind and fun, taking you out to dinner and buying you things often, and while you could suggest quite a few ways you’d like to see things change, you didn’t want to be nit-picky. 

You cleared the thoughts from your head as you saw a herd of troopers exiting the ship, a blur of white and blue indicating that it was none other than the 501st. Your face curled into an inexplicable mix of a grimace and a grin, scanning the familiar helmets out of habit. There it was… the tiniest flash of red, in a downward triangle right in the middle… And just like that, it took you back to that night, memories flashing across your mind to the rhythm of your footsteps as you continued distractedly toward the work that lay ahead. 

Flashing lights, neon signs. Raucous voices, cheers, laughs. Good conversation, suggestive whispers, the effervescent warmth of liquor in your veins that fueled the anticipation of potential adventure and meaningless fun. The dark hair clenched between your fingers, the heavy breathing, the throes of passion and the gentle, intimate caresses afterward. That simple tattoo, a small 5, that you’d touched and kissed and fallen asleep against… 

“Watch it!” A sharp voice broke you out of the replay, and you stumbled sideways as a couple of grumpy pilots made their way past. You could hear laughter up ahead, as your boyfriend and two others watched your distracted mishap. Flipping an obscene gesture their way, you pulled your bag higher up on your shoulder and hurried to catch up. Today was not the day to be daydreaming and dawdling. 

What you didn’t see was the lone straggler behind the group of clones, now free of their helmets, exchanging quips and laughs as they headed toward their day of freedom. He shifted on his feet, holding his helmet at his hip, watching you scuttle toward the ship. His brow furrowed, a litany of expressions decorating his face, and he slowly turned to join his brothers, tearing his eyes from you and leaving them on the ground as he made his way to rest and refreshment.

The engines were a hot mess, requiring more than a few trips back to the supply station for some of the most abstract parts you’d ever heard of. What they were doing on this starship, you didn’t know, but they were definitely putting you through your paces when it came to maintaining it. You brushed the hair from your face, christening your forehead with grease, and smacked the maintenance panel shut with a huff. You were already late for lunch, and had skipped breakfast, and therefore were in an absolutely horrible mood. 

The mess hall was fairly empty, most having finished their meals and cleared out by now. Your boyfriend had waited for you, surprisingly, chatting with some crewmates and beckoning you over when he caught sight of you with your tray. You slid onto the bench next to him, accepting his sloppy kiss and side hug as he finished the story he was telling, and promptly began stuffing your face with the most unexciting ration bar you’d ever touched. Most of the exciting stuff in the food line had been gone already by the time you went through, including the apples, which were one of your favorite things, even though they seemed plain.

“Whoa, easy girl, they’re not gonna run out of food!” came his playful taunt, and you elbowed him in the ribs in response. You’d initially loved the witty banter between the two of you, but sometimes the jabs had an edge, or didn’t quite land, and you were beginning to tire of it. Your complaints had been brushed off as being “overly-sensitive” or “not being able to take a joke”, so you let it slide, but you didn’t appreciate it quite so much anymore. 

As the group of you headed back to the ship for hours of maintenance and inspection, a figure caught your eye on the side of the platform. A clone trooper, still in armor, was heading back toward the ship, scanning the herds of people bustling about their duties. You squinted, drawing closer, wondering why any of them would choose to be here when they had such little time off. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But as you both approached the maintenance hatch, you saw the helmet clearly. 

“Fives?” you asked, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. After your [pretty darn awesome] little fling together, you had both enjoyed some conversations here and there, but it had been clear that there wasn’t really any future there… He was constantly being toted around the galaxy, and you… well, you were stuck here. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about it since, though… What it would be like if your lots in life were different. It had been a one-night stand, yes, but there had been substance in your discussion, intriguing glimmers of personality, and a depth, kindness, and intelligence that had really left an impression on you. “What are you doing here?” you continued, watching him turn toward you quickly at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh! Hi. I… I thought I left something on the ship,” he began, pulling his helmet off to reveal those rich brown eyes and sharp features. You began to form a question as to why it would be in the maintenance sector, but he continued quickly, “But while you’re here…” The couple of crew members with you, including your boyfriend, were lingering in the doorway as well, watching the interaction. “They’re doing a crew appreciation thing at 79s tonight, and I just didn’t know if you… all… knew about it. Free snacks and cheap drinks for mechanics and whatnot…” 

“That’s awesome,” you said warmly, catching his eye with your soft smile. “Thanks for telling us.” 

“Yeah! You… all… deserve it, with all your hard work. Anyway… Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said, eyes roving across the group before he retreated into the expressionless safety of his helmet. He gave you one last nod before turning to head out. You snuck a glance over your shoulder as your team climbed onto the ship, noticing his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as he walked. 

* * * 

“This is ridiculous,” your boyfriend muttered as you exited the taxi in front of 79s. 

“Hey. I never get to choose what we do. You said you’d be a good sport. Plus -- free food!” you said enticingly, feeling disproportionately enthused as the neon lights and bumping bass met your senses. 

“I know, but a clone bar? I don’t know… isn’t that kind of weird?” he whined, taking your hand begrudgingly as the two of you made your way in the door. 

“Why would it be weird?” you said, voice getting louder so he could hear you over the music. But you never heard his reply as the raucous noise of the bar took over. 

* * * 

“Okay, ‘free snacks’ may have been a bit of an overstatement,” you chuckled, a few drinks and three bags of salty crackers later. The two of you had come to an uneasy truce, settling to play cards and watch the various interactions going on around you. There had been a few arguments, some decent arm wrestling matches, and a general spirit of joviality that was infectious. Well, to you, at least. The music shifted to something right up your alley, and you rose to your feet, holding a hand out. Your boyfriend took it, with the tiniest of eye rolls, and followed you downstairs to the dance floor, making a quick swerve last minute to order two shots at the bar. You laughed, reaching a hand out, but he gulped one down, and then the other, to your shock and slight disappointment. 

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you back toward the dancers. It was an improvement to his mood, at least, though you’d be talking about the rudeness of the act later, for sure. The dance floor was particularly full tonight; a number of ships had reported back to Coruscant at once, making for a diverse and colorful crowd. That familiar warm, tingly feeling was flowing through your veins and you smiled, letting the music fill your mind and flow through your body. 

* * * 

“Yoo hoo!” came the taunting call as Jesse waved his hand in front of Fives’ face. “Did you seriously just drift off mid-sentence? Man, that clanker must have hit your head harder than we thought, eh Kix?” 

“That brain was damaged long before that,” Kix answered, running a hand over his closely-shaved hair and intricate skull tattoos. Jesse’s laughter was joined by Hardcase and Echo, who were reclining in the large booth with the rest of their brothers. 

“Sorry -- got distracted,” Fives muttered, shaking his head and looking back to his squad. The conversation continued, with quips and jabs, as well as heroic tales that expanded each time they were told, but he couldn’t stop glancing off to the side. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor, appearing between the bodies all around you and then disappearing again into the crowd. There was a funny clenching feeling in his chest, as he remembered the scent of your hair, the darkness of your eyes, and the little gasp that had accompanied the way you moaned his name… Suddenly there was a funny feeling under his codpiece as well, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on whatever joke Hardcase was completely botching at the moment. 

The dance floor cleared a little bit, giving him an unobstructed view of you, though he wasn’t sure if it were an improvement or not. Your boyfriend had decided that now was as good a time as any to try to grind on your backside like an adolescent horn dog, and you kept trying to shift to a more natural and fun way of dancing together but he was persistent. And getting a bit gropey. Finally, you gave up, and Fives watched as you left the dance floor, stalking to the refresher in a huff. The boyfriend slumped over to the other end of the bar, toppling onto a stool and waving to the bartender. 

“Be right back,” Fives said, scooting out the side of the booth. “Refresher,” he muttered in response to the questioning glances, and was quickly forgotten as he edged down the packed hallway. He lurked awkwardly outside the doors for a few minutes, wishing he’d come up with a better plan, when you finally reappeared, sending a little jolt of energy down his spine. 

“You made it!” he said with a clearly forced brightness, startling you out of your rumination. 

“Yeah,” you answered, any joy at seeing him dulled by the disappointment of how it was all going. 

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head with apparent concern on his face. The way the hair on his chin accentuated the expression was adorable, and his interest lifted your spirits a little.

“Sorry, yeah,” you answered, getting jostled to the side of the hallway as a group went past. “Long day at work, regular life troubles, you know. Nothing crazy like the stuff you have to face.” 

“Hm. From what I hear, getting shot at might be preferable to that sometimes,” Fives muttered, arching an eyebrow with a little sparkle in his eye. That got a genuine laugh out of you, which changed the whole mood of the interaction immediately. 

“What is TAKING you so long?” came a belligerent voice, as “boyfriend” came staggering up behind Fives. “This guy bothering you?” he asked, jabbing a thumb at Fives, who wrinkled his nose in disdain at the pathetic creature next to him. 

“No, we were just chatting,” you said quickly, noting the edge of the voice and the clumsy movements. He clearly didn’t recognize Fives, despite him having been the one to invite you here, a detail that was not lost on the clone, who gave you a look that couldn’t have been more plain -- really?

“Alright, well let’s go,” said the boyfriend, who wasn’t worth even giving a name, and he reached for your hand, giving it a sharp tug, which pulled you right across Fives, who found a sudden urge to grab you right back and tell this little womp rat to scurry off into a hole somewhere. You paused for a moment, turning back to face Fives, whose intense gaze made your heart skip a beat. 

“Thanks for thinking of us,” you said, giving one last smile before being whisked toward the door. 

* * * 

The next day was not going well. You hadn’t slept much at all, tossing and turning with all kinds of thoughts and considerations that kept you from any sort of real rest. The boyfriend seemed to be in a crappy state as well, rubbing his head and squinting at the bright light as he worked next to you. There was a distinct tension building between the two of you, and you knew it was going to come to a head. It would be good, because there were things that needed to be said and addressed and changed and dealt with, but you weren’t one to look forward to conflict. Neither was he, so the two of you puttered about your mechanical duties until it was about lunchtime, when you set your wrench down with the intention of getting to the mess hall on time for once. 

Alas, fate was not on your side. The walk between the shipyard and the cafeteria was just enough time to get into a huge fight with your boyfriend about last night, which ballooned to include topics like drinking, respect, joking, autonomy, and all sorts of other things. It was a hot mess, and while you tried to keep it civil, you were both tired, frustrated, and clearly triggered. By the time you got to the mess hall, it had reached the breaking point, and you turned to flee for solitude, tears streaming down your face, as he yelled criticisms after you, much to the surprise of quite a few onlookers. 

You found a supply closet, smashing your hand on the keypad so the door would whoosh closed behind you, silently cursing the fact that you couldn’t slam it. You threw an arm up against the wall, resting your forehead against it and burying your face in the cool grey metal, surrounded by shelves and the whirring fans of the ventilation ducts above your head. You wanted to cry, but now you couldn’t, which somehow made you feel even worse. There were so many emotions, it was impossible to sort them out. You were frustrated with the situation, angry at yourself for tolerating so much, confused why there couldn’t be a middle ground, and despair at the aching pain of yet another failed relationship. Or had it failed? You felt sick to your stomach at the thought that, knowing you, it might just get patched up and continued, with hopes that this time it would be different. Were you really so stupid? 

The door slid open, and you flattened against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would find their supplies and leave without even noticing you were there. But when it closed, and no footsteps were heard, you shifted slightly to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone had come in at all. To your surprise, a fully-armored clone stood just inside the door, ducking his head to peer through the many shelves that lined the walls, making the rather large closet feel incredibly small and claustrophobic. 

“Fives?” you said in disbelief, leaning out from the shelves you’d crammed yourself between.

He let a single curse word fly as he jumped to the side, knocking over a stand full of brooms and mops, sending them all clattering to the ground as he frantically tried to regain his footing. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling as though you’d already emptied yourself of all the crying and anger and pain. He stood tall, righting his crooked helmet, and cleared his throat, staring at you from within the helmet. 

“You scared the kriff out of me,” he said, modulated voice still sounding a bit shaky. 

“Sorry?” you answered, having no idea how to go about this conversation with all that had transpired. “Why are you coming in a supply closet?” 

“I heard you…” he said quietly, pulling his helmet off now and setting it on a shelf nearby. “I wanted to see if… if everything was alright.” His face was earnest, but there was a nervousness to his gaze and stance. 

“Ugh,” came your ashamed response at the spectacle you’d provided in the halls. “It’s fine. Or it will be. I don’t know. This isn’t really how I usually am…” Why were you explaining yourself to him? Perhaps it was because he was the first person to seem to truly listen to you and care about you in a while. Perhaps you felt a need to justify yourself. Or perhaps you were still just reeling from it all. 

“And how are you, usually?” he asked, taking a step closer and leaning against the shelf next to you. “You seemed quite a bit more lighthearted when we…” he drifted off, grasping his hands together. 

“It’s just been a long week,” you offered, shrugging it off.

“Are you happy?” he said suddenly, with a confidence that came out of nowhere. His chin lifted slightly as he regarded you. “I know we didn’t know each other very long, but in what time we did have together, it was clear that you are incredibly intelligent, witty, and fun. In more ways than one,” he added, hoping the insinuation would bring some levity. It did bring a tiny smirk to your face, as you wiped some leftover tears from one eye, thinking about the slightly adventurous escapade you’d enjoyed. But it was quickly overwhelmed by confusion at his words.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Why does it matter to you?” 

“I… I didn’t just forget about you, you know,” he said, swallowing and pausing for a moment. “I figured you weren’t interested in anything else, and I was shipped off…” 

“And now you’re back to judge my choices?” you snapped, shocked at your own vehemence. Clearly, you’d been on your last straw… about six straws ago… He straightened in surprise, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No! I just…” he stopped again, lowering his hands slowly and taking a deep breath before speaking in a quiet, solid voice. 

“You shouldn’t be with him. You should be… with me.” 

His amber eyes were locked on yours, simultaneously intense and kind, confident and vulnerable. You were reeling at his words, mouth slightly open. You were sorry for your sharpness, sorry for your assumptions… And sorry for your choices as well. The way he put himself out there had a wildly disarming effect on you, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he say something like that when you were clearly a mess?

He closed the space between you, slowly approaching with tentative caution, and lifted a hand to your face. His hands were rough yet gentle as he cupped your cheek, eyes growing larger as he took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’ll respect your choices, always. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and seeing you here… seeing the way he treats you… I just… I had to say something.”

You searched for the right words to say, but could find none, instead closing your eyes and nestling into his warm hand. A single tear squeezed out and rolled down your cheek, falling to your shoulder in silence. He continued, voice softer now, “I know I don’t have anything to offer you�� no stability, no future, nothing. But you deserve better than… that… at least… And I’d like to do my best… while I can.”

You lifted your hand to his, pressing into it as though you could communicate your overwhelming emotions through a single touch. A small smile curved the corner of your lips, and you felt a sudden freedom at the prospect stretching out before you. Opening your eyes, you felt as though your chest would explode as you saw his face, so close to yours, so earnest in his affection and admittance, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, grateful, hopeful kiss. His sharp inhale was quickly followed by the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against the shelf behind. When you finally came up for air, you leaned your forehead against his, a thousand questions held back by the simple savoring of the moment. 

“Fives,” you whispered, and his heart leapt at the way you said his name, “I’m a mess.” 

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in again, lips brushing yours as he answered, “Well I’d love it if you’d be my mess.” 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Mike Luckovich]

* * * *

"An idea unlike any other."

May 28, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

On Memorial Day, President Biden hosted a breakfast for military leaders, veterans, and Gold Star family members. The event was closed to the press, so there are no photos or media reports of his remarks. Rather than turn a White House reception honoring fallen soldiers into a public event or campaign opportunity, the President met privately to express gratitude to soldiers and their families.

Later in the day, the President participated in the Wreath-Laying Ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery and then delivered the Memorial Day Address the Memorial Amphitheater.

In his remarks, President Biden said,

America is the only country in the world founded on an idea — an idea that all people are created equal and deserve to be treated equally throughout their lives. We’ve never fully lived up to that, but we’ve never, ever, ever walked away from it. Every generation, our fallen heroes have brought us closer.

President Biden also issued a statement commemorating Memorial Day, writing (in part):

Since America's founding, our service members have laid down their lives for an idea unlike any other: the idea of the United States. Today, as generations of heroes lie in eternal peace, we live by the light of liberty they kept burning. May God bless them, always.

Joe Biden’s presence in the Oval Office elevates us as a nation. We are fortunate to have him as our president during this challenging time in our nation’s history.

Defendant Donald Trump issued his own statement commemorating Memorial Day. Trump posted a statement that began as follows:

Happy Memorial Day to All, including the Human Scum that is working so hard to destroy our Once Great Country, & to the Radical Left, Trump Hating Federal Judge in New York that presided over, get this, TWO separate trials, that awarded a woman, who I never met before (a quick handshake at a celebrity event, 25 years ago, doesn’t count!), 91 MILLION DOLLARS for “DEFAMATION” . . . .

What is notable about Trump's Memorial Day greeting is that it does not mention veterans—living or dead—but is instead devoted entirely to himself. In contrast, President Biden’s message mentions only those veterans who gave their lives for “the idea of America” and does not mention himself.

The same contrast is seen in President Biden’s private meeting with Gold Star families. Trump took a group photo with Gold Star family members at the Coca-Cola 600 while wearing a “MAGA” hat and giving a “thumbs up.” Photo Trump at NASCAR Event.

Trump also used Memorial Day Weekend to announce the creation of “Veterans and Military Families for Trump,” an announcement that included the following statement:

Unlike the weak Joe Biden, President Trump has consistently proven he cares deeply about the unbelievable sacrifices made by our nation’s Veterans and their wonderful families.

In short, Trump's relationship with veterans and Gold Star families is transactional, like everything else in his life: Fallen soldiers and veterans are props for his campaign. They matter only because they are part of a campaign organization supporting Trump.

The saddest part of that transaction is that the veterans’ sacrifices and their families’ grief are being exploited by a man who has called fallen veterans “suckers and losers.”

Rarely has our nation faced such a stark choice. On this Memorial Day, that choice is viewed through the lens of the sacrifice of more than a million Americans who died defending the “idea of America.” As President Biden said in his remarks today, we have “never fully lived up to the promise” of that idea. We cannot allow our past failures and present challenges to discourage us.

The question of whether a million Americans died in vain is for us to answer. They kept their oath; we must finish the story of their sacrifice. In 2024, we must honor America’s fallen veterans by ensuring that their sacrifice was not in vain by defending the democracy for which they gave their lives.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[m1d-45]

spoken from the stars III

summary: voicelines characters would have in sagau! ft. zhongli, ayato, heizou, and two bonuses :)

word count: ~720

-> warnings: spoilers for liyue archon quest, minor spoilers for ayato and chongyun lore

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< kazuha, wanderer || < masterlist > || lyney, lynette, freminet >

zhongli

about us: the traveller

the traveller is a brave and brilliant soul, and i wish them the best of luck on their journey. though, now that i think about it… i’m not certain they’d ever need my blessing.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

even the strongest stone cannot withstand erosion forever. the winds of time and sands of memories past will grate at its surface, scraping away the smallest amount with every breath. there are, of course, methods to restore even the harshest of removals, but… *sigh* no mortal can undo time.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

everything that can be seen in liyue could not have been made without your blessing. i have shaped the harbor, created the coin around which teyvat operates, and yet none of it could ever have been done without you. i dedicate myself and my creations to you and your glory, and hope that liyue is to your liking. …i hope that i am as well.

ayato

about us: the traveller

the traveller has been a large and key part of overturning the vision hunt decree, and has assisted the nations of teyvat greatly. ive been meaning to invite them back for a game of chess, but they always seem rather busy… it can’t be helped, i suppose.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

everything around us, from the evergreens to the fallen sakura blooms, was all planted by design. year after year, they sprout, bloom, and fall, always returning back to the posts they’d abandoned months before… perhaps that is true loyalty.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

when i first received my vision, i had taken it as a sign that it was time to find my own way. i had assumed i was to walk the path of commissioner alone, that it would be my lone light. i… was wrong. you were there. …for this and everything else, i pledge both my allegiance and the allegiance of the yashiro commission as well. should you need anything, trust that the entirety of my resources are at your disposal. it is the least i could offer.

heizou

about us: the traveller

ah, the traveller… an interesting character, with plenty of stories to tell. the hero of three of teyvat’s— oh, four? …well well, seems like they’ve been getting busy. with all the work they’re doing, i might be out of a job soon, haha.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

here in teyvat, it’s impossible to truly measure the extent of a criminal’s transgressions, and hence impossible to ever be able to tell if a punishment was fit or not. a thief might have brought a family to financial ruin, and a murderer often scars more than just the victim. as a detective, it’s my job to account for strictly quantifiable crimes, but… it doesn’t matter. in the end, even the sneakiest of thieves will meet their maker.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

my success is often attributed to my intuition — typically by new officers who assume i can solve any case by simply looking at it — but this conclusion is entirely unfounded. every gift i have isn’t innate, it’s a blessing; one that i’m immensely lucky to have. what i’m saying is that i would never have gotten this far without you, and that i swear to repay this debt however is necessary. doushin shikanoin, at your service.

xingqiu

about the creator: penmanship

sometimes i wonder how the universe came to be. obviously such an event was powered by the strength of the divine, but… was an artifact used to channel this energy? if so, would it be more equivalent to a vision, or, say, a pen? do you think such a device could be adapted to work with vision users? wh— hey, leave my handwriting out of this! it’s a serious question

chongyun

about the creator: energy

do you think that if the creator were to visit a haunted location, that the evil spirits would be driven away? or would they be exorcised? obviously, they tend to run away when faced with my yang energy, but what would demons do when faced with the divine? hm…

[oftenwantedafton]

Vent - Steve Raglan/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Reader

Chapters 28-30

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available on AO3 Chapter 28 | 29 | 30

Chapter 28 ~ petrichor ~

You’re standing in the field near Freddy’s.

The flowers are the wrong color; fading and dying around you. It’s late summer or early autumn. A definite overlap, trapped and stagnating somewhere in between. The soil beneath your feet bears the fragrance of petrichor.

You can’t remember how you got here.

The posts that mark the border of the property have all fallen, finally succumbing to the rage of the elements, to the passage of time. Surrendering, like you have to every one of William Afton’s whims and wishes, the penultimate object of his deepest desire made breath and skin.

This wasn’t how it was. Not quite as you remember. Can you remember?

The parking lot is full of deep grooves, as if some giant beast has raked its nails across the blacktop. You stumble and nearly go down. The destruction is so much worse this time. This time? Are you in the future or present or past?

The front doors of the pizzeria are propped wide open. Inside, it is dark. The emergency lighting from the backup generator casts a dull red glow on the flooring, illuminating a grim path for you to follow.

You feel as if you are being watched as you enter the restaurant. You hear the soft click of the employee door closing. Someone else is here.

You hurry after, working from memory. You know the layout of the place intimately now. You just catch sight of someone—something? tall rounding the corner ahead, heading towards the service room, now illuminated by a lamp on the desk, the power restored.

William turns to face you.

There’s something different in his features. Hair no longer threaded with gray. Clean shaven. No glasses. The image flickers as if it’s a projection and the yellow rabbit faces you. Folds his arms across his chest. Back to William. The same pose. The two overlayed over each other. Tap, tap, tap of one index finger over the creased arm. Fingers forever restless. Talking with them. You’ve seen William and the yellow rabbit both do this gesture before. You don’t know whom it belongs to; who is the borrower and who is the creator.

A young girl overlaid on your own self. She’s you, nine years ago. You both hear the drag of the knife along the desk. She runs. You do not.

William and the yellow rabbit step forward. The image shimmers unsteadily, as if each of them is struggling for dominance. They reach you and stop, resting a hand and steel against your arm.

“It’s okay,” one of them reassures you. “You won’t remember this.” The knife sinks into your stomach.

You gasp and the intake of air sucks you into a different vision. You’re still in the service room but it’s been restored again, like it is in the present, bright and clean and new. You hear something dragging through the vents.

You hesitate, staring into the narrow confines slotted between the steel shelves before you climb inside.

It’s stifling in the passage. The metal bows and warps under your weight combined with whatever is just ahead of you. The rabbit. It must be. It’s difficult going. There’s so much of the ductwork. You’re sweating profusely. It’s difficult to breathe.

You can see a faint light ahead, signaling the end of your journey. You hear something pushing against the vent, just missing a sighting of the figure that eases through. You peer through the opening and recognize the staff bathroom near William’s office. It’s a short drop to the tile flooring.

The yellow rabbit stands before the sink, head tipped to one side, contemplating the image it sees. He reaches for the headpiece of the costume, wrenching it free.

William is inside.

You inhale sharply but he doesn’t seem to hear you. His hair is matted with perspiration, plastered to his forehead, his teeth gritted. He snarls at the reflection.

“You won’t take her away from me. You won’t win,” he growls. He drags the pieces of the mascot suit off bit by bit. First the gloves, then the lower and upper arms and shoulders. The chest piece is the trickiest part, large and cumbersome, heavy, but he manages. The lower portions are much easier to remove.

The man finally extricates himself from the last component and leans heavily against the sink, knuckles blanching with the tension he’s applying. His breath comes in ragged gasps. The back of his long sleeve shirt is soaked with sweat. A thin trail of saliva leaks from his panting mouth and he releases his death grip on the porcelain basin and drags the back of his hand across his lips, his eyes lifting slowly to stare at the reflection in the mirror.

“William…” You reach for him and your hands close on vapor. He’s gone. Your mind is closing again. “Please, no, wait, I need to remember this!”

Your eyes open to darkness. You remember nothing.

Chapter 29 ~ phantom ~

The school year has finally ended.

You savor the taste of that freedom. The place that had imprisoned you in unhappiness for so long is finally behind you.

There’s a car parked behind the restaurant that you don’t recognize. Not new, but not that old either. A compact four door sedan. Arctic white. You look a question at William.

“You like it? It’s yours. Congratulations on graduating.” He tosses you the keys and you manage to catch them.

“You bought me a car? You didn’t have to. I was saving up…”

“You’ve got better things to spend it on. College gets expensive.” The older man closes the distance between you. “I do hope this doesn’t mean you aren’t going to let me chauffeur you around town now and again. I’ve come to really enjoy that…” He grins around the saltwater taffy dissolving on his tongue.

“Of course. I don’t…I don’t know what to say except thank you. For everything.”

“You want to christen it?” His eyes flash and you blush. “It’ll be a tight squeeze but I’m sure we can manage. Or I could just bend you right over the hood.”

You body throbs. “Both.”

The grin widens. “Both it is.”

***

There are good work days and there are bad work days.

Today is one of the bad.

Maybe it’s the increasing heat outdoors, rising temperatures matching rising tempers. Kids now home from school for the summer vacation and bored already, nagging their parents. The air conditioning is on the fritz again, a fickle system that operates when it feels like it.

Today it clearly does not.

Foxy is being particularly fussy today. You’ve been working inside the torso for what feels like hours. You straighten and your spine snaps, the synovial fluid pushing through the vertebrae. The replacement lithium components simply won’t fit. You don’t understand it. They’re an exact match for the previous ones.

You’re interrupted soon after by William hurriedly entering, saying he’s bringing one of the kitchen staff to the hospital for a bad burn. Something about the deep fryer. You can see the young man standing outside the doorway, his arm wrapped in a towel.

“It’ll be faster than waiting for the ambulance to get out here. Just keep an eye on things.” His hurried kiss slides sloppily off the corner of your mouth.

You set down the pliers with a sigh, hoping the teenager would be alright. The pirate animatronic was going to have to be out of commission for awhile longer.

***

Even the longest of days finally ends, bowing to evening.

You’re pressed against the wall of William Afton’s shower, one leg hiked up to rest on the shallow shelf intended for toiletries. The flat of one hand sits on your abdomen as he enters you from behind. The other cups your chin, encircling your face and cradling you against him, his mouth against yours. You taste the shower water and whatever raspberry candy he’d snuck in before entering the stall. You can tell he’s tired. You feel the same way. It’s a quiet, lazy kind of fuck. A slow piston grind until his cock angles just right and the familiar sensation builds inside you. His mouth becomes a little more frantic, his hips snapping a little faster. The hand on your stomach slides down so he can access your clit. Your moans echo differently inside the shower, the wet, hollow space relaying the sounds in a different timbre. There. He’s got you. A hot huff of breath and he’s found his. You feel his smile.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom sink minutes later. The drying process was hasty. Water droplets still slide down your skin. You turn and the older man’s arms come around you, stroking over your damp body. Gentle kisses turn more needy.

“Again?” You laugh against his chest.

“I know I’m a lot older and very tired but there is nothing that will ever keep me from wanting more of you,” he murmurs against your hair.

You plant a kiss on the curve of one pectoral muscle, your mouth wandering. The mark is fading but it’s still there, undeniable beneath his collar bone. You trace it with your tongue.

***

William hisses when your mouth makes contact with the scar. It’s become so sensitive. A phantom ache that echoes on the one you’ve left on his hip. He’s going to need a fresh one soon.

He kisses your hair and his eyes lift to the mirror.

The yellow rabbit is watching him.

He instantly tenses, the fingers caressing you pressing more deeply. The cur has never been so bold as to make an appearance with you beside him. The bars of the cage were loosening.

It’s just because I’m tired. That’s all. I’m still in control.

“William?”

He notices you’ve stop peppering him with kisses, drawing back to look at his features. He can imagine how it must look to you. As if he’s seen a ghost.

And he has, hasn’t he?

The past forever coming back to haunt him.

He pushes back inside of you and thinks of dragging a handful of remnant from a broken body and he’s much more aggressive this time. Almost angry. Defiant. He nips at your throat and pulls your hair and sucks a new bruise along your shoulder.

The rabbit’s image fades into nothingness.

Chapter 30 ~ confession ~

It’s well past the time for viewing Hurricane’s Independence Day fireworks, though you can still hear the occasional hiss and pop from some amateur celebrating on their own.

William’s car is parked in the field adjacent to the pizzeria, the blanket beneath you cushioning your drape across the windshield with your lover beside you. The sky’s display of stars is absolutely brilliant tonight, the temperature more pleasant now that the sun has set.

“This was a nice idea,” you murmur, kissing his cheek. “It’s really beautiful out here. We should set up a projector or something on the side of the building. Do an improv drive in. Either just for us or for the customers. Or both.”

“Did you ever get to go to one?”

“A couple of times when I was really little. It sucks there are none even remotely close to us anymore.”

“It’s a good idea. Smart. Thinking like a business woman already.” He pats your hip, grinning. “Did you mention something about cupcakes earlier?”

“I knew you’d get around to that eventually. Yes, I brought them. I hope they’re still chilled from the walk in.” You’d baked a set of yellow cupcakes and decorated them for July 4th. Blue frosting and cherries and white stars. A domestic gesture. You think you’ll be ready to move in with him soon, once you get settled at college. You’d opted for a local one, something that wouldn’t pull you away from him or Freddy’s. You still want to be here, with him.

You scoot and slide down off the hood and open the rear passenger door, plucking one from the box at random. It wasn’t too warm yet. Good.

You rejoin the older man and he props himself up on his elbows, accepting the bite of the baked dessert you offer and the copious amount of blue frosting stains his mouth, visible under the bright starlit canopy above. He swipes at it and tries to smear it on your own face as you giggle and protest, mock struggling to get away. The blanket rumples beneath the pair of you. Your sneaker squeaks against the now partially uncovered windscreen. The laughter softens as you look at him, your fingers trailing gently over his features. You have never been happier. You think he feels the same. The words you’ve wanted to say finally spill out of you. “I love you.”

His face burrows into your neck. You feel his body shudder. “I love you,” he whispers.

***

You’re seated in the car. You sense William’s hesitation to leave. As if he doesn’t want the moment to end, the spell to break.

Your head lolls on the headrest and you smile. You feel incredible. You’ve finally confessed your feelings and found his were mutual. Everything in your life feels so perfect, so right. The missing piece of the puzzle beside you. It was worth the years of misery and solitude, with this as your reward. You’d endure it all again if you had to, just to have this. “It’s amazing I was afraid of this place once. Now I never want to leave.”

You think you see him frown. “Afraid? Why?”

You shrug. “I can never remember all the details. I dream about it sometimes, but it’s always gone again when I wake up. I just have a sensation that I know I was almost reliving it. I was at a birthday party for one of my classmates. We weren’t friends, of course. A pity invite. That’s all I can really recall.” You pause, humming thoughtfully. “Well, a little more than that. I’d been in that employee restricted area before. And Parts and Service. It looked different back then.” You shrug again, shaking off your musings. “It doesn’t matter. I love being here now. With you.” You reach for his hand and find William’s fingers stiff and unresponsive beneath yours.

“How long ago was this?” The older man’s voice is clipped.

“I don’t know. Like, almost nine years ago. The party was in the summer.” You attempt to lace your fingers through his but find them still rigid, unwelcoming. “William? Are you alright? It wasn’t the cupcake was it?” Your attempt to be playful falls flat. You can hear his breathing, feel his eyes on you, his features bathed in shadows now that you’re shielded from the sky.

“I remember you,” he says quietly.

[thaisibir]

Post-ending Claymore headcanons

-By unspoken unanimous agreement among warriors, Miria was appointed their leader. She leads a patrol of warriors who roam the continent, dedicated to their mission of eliminating any remaining yoma and Awakened Beings. This new hunting group has no formal name, though the general public comes to refer to them as the Silver Patrol. Warriors don't object to being called this. It's better than Silver-Eyed Witches. Helen jokingly calls them the Sisterhood.

-Father Vincent came up with the idea of incorporating Rabona nuns and priests into the warriors' patrol structure. They serve not only as ambassadors of the city's holy order, but to aid as liaisons between the common folk and warriors and help foster friendly relations. Service is not mandatory, but the men and women who volunteered to travel and work with the warriors found the experience very rewarding. The warriors in turn really appreciate the human company, a welcoming change from the men in black to men and women of holy cloth.

-Rabona is the base of operations and primary residence for warriors. Residential situations among them vary greatly: Miria is one of the few who is constantly traveling all over the continent and occasionally drops by to visit. Some, like Clare, Cynthia and Yuma, alternate between being deployed on patrol duty and staying at home. Others, like Galatea, choose to remain in Rabona permanently and guard its borders closely.

-The ranking and number system was abolished, though warriors sometimes refer to themselves by their numbers out of habit. Old habits die hard.

-Warriors on patrol hardly ever travel and fight alone nowadays. They're almost always in groups of at least four, often more, depending on the kind of foe they face. A warrior may request to take on a mission alone, but generally Miria likes to encourage teamwork and fellowship among her comrades.

-The emblem and black card system is one of the few remnants from the organization that warriors elected to keep. "The only good thing to ever come out of those sick bastards," Helen once said.

-The present dress code is a lot looser than the organization's. Miria encourages her comrades to wear armor and other attire that best accommodate their strengths and abilities. Many have learned to strip the hides and armor from Awakened Beings they kill and repurpose them into uniforms.

-Discrimination against warriors is a reportable offense and punishable by fine in Rabona. Warriors are more than capable of weathering some harsh words, but they appreciate the city's gesture of goodwill and protection.

-Cynthia is appointed the chief medical officer for warriors. In addition to her clinical duties, she teaches other warriors with an aptitude for or show interest in healing and tends to human patients as well. Many a young healer is smitten by her (attracting Helen's relentless teases and Cynthia's embarrassment).

-As Rabona became a welcoming sanctuary for warriors, the Ghosts brought the swords of their fallen comrades from Pieta to a designated spot in the church's graveyard. Names beautifully etched onto stone plaques were the handiwork of Rabona masons. Many flowers are left by those swords, even by common folk with no connection to the warriors at all. The sight of these swords surrounded by flowers and greenery, no longer buried in snow, ice and obscurity, moves the Ghosts enough to tears sometimes.

-A memorial for Clarice is also located in the churchyard. The stone plaque by her buried sword has no mention at all of her rank, only that she was a valiant defender and valued friend of Rabona. Warriors often visit the site to honor and remember her, with Galatea being the most loyal visitor. She plans on telling Miata the truth one day, when the girl grows in maturity and wisdom.

-Irene turned down the chance to relocate to Rabona, since she is so used to living in the wilderness and prefers keeping to herself. She is happy, however, for her comrades who get to call Rabona their home. Occasionally she will visit the city to catch up with Clare and be a guest instructor for warriors who want to work on their swordsmanship.

-Helen started the tradition of hosting annual games for warriors in Rabona. It's an entertaining spectacle for humans and warriors alike, drawing even people traveling from distant villages. There are competitions for wrestling, sword sparring, archery, javelin throwing, and running, among other things. The top three warriors in each event earn bronze, silver and gold medals respectively. (Out of fairness, Miria does not participate in the running events but acts as the referee.)

-Girls who were in training by the time of the organization's collapse were given the choice to either continue training and become a full-fledged warrior, or live normal lives among civilians. Some, like Miata, gave up the sword and joined the order of Rabona nuns to try leading lives of peace. Many girls were adopted and raised by loving, willing families. Others, like the twins, aspired to join the patrol, so they were taken in by more experienced warriors to complete their training.

-As warriors became more integrated into human society, particularly Rabona's, they find lovers, friends, and family outside their little silver-eyed circle. The more time they spend mingling with humans, the more human they become themselves. Many break free from the shell of aloofness and stiffness their former lonely lifestyles had imposed on them. Laughing, crying, cracking jokes, and gestures of kindness, it all becomes easier and more natural.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Everything More Than Anything pt. 3

Sydney Adamu x Carmy Berzatto - R rated 🔥 (not this chapter - boooo!)

Full Masterlist

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Who wants to spend 7 hours at the hospital?!

(I just said to myself that if I post this chapter then I really, really need to get my ass moving on Chapter 4... and then proceeded to post this so I'm going to get on with 4 now, promise!)

~~~~~

Chapter 3

They drove in silence towards the hospital, Syd’s head immediately beginning to refill with restaurant stuff and now also Carmy stuff. She could feel his eyes on her as he kept looking over to her. His phone buzzed in the center console, 

"Would you mind checking that?" He asked. She picked it up, 

"Looks like it's from Pete?"

"Passcode is 1234."

"Wow, you're crying out to get mugged, dude."

"I have no money and nothing to hide, so," he shrugged with a wry smile as she unlocked his phone. 

"Pete said 'nothing happening just yet but Nat needs Mountain Dew and Reeses.' Girl, I hear you."

"There's a 24 hour place near the hospital." The car lurched to the left, "the fuck?" Carmy pulled over and jumped out. Syd heard a dull thud on the roof as Carmy’s hand whacked the metal. She nudged the window down, 

"You good?"

"We got a flat. I need to call trip A." She stepped out of the car, 

"Do you have a spare?"

"Not a fucking clue, Richie's probably sold it." She opened the trunk, cleared away some of the crap inside and lifted the carpet panel. She held her breath and could feel Carmy doing the same next to her. Tucked into the recess, she was relieved to see the spare tire, a jack and a wrench.

"Thank fuck he didn't." She sighed. He pulled the tire out and they got to work replacing the flat. 

"You know how to do this?" He asked, impressed. 

"OK, so quick story time, my mom and dad went on a date once - like they hadn't been dating for long, and he got a flat. He had no clue what he was doing so he made out like it was something serious," He jacked the car up while she loosened the bolts, "she got out the car, changed the flat in, like, seconds and then got back in as if nothin' had happened. My dad was totally stunned," he pulled the flat off and she replaced it with the spare, "her dad was a mechanic and he had no idea. So once he'd learned how to do it himself, dad made sure I knew how to do it as well." Carmy tightened the bolts.

"Sounds like she made a big impression on him."

"She did. There's never been anyone else for him, even after all this time." They jumped back into the car and Carmy eased back onto the road. 

"No one from his dance classes?"

"Dance classes, quiz team, poker nights, work, family friends… you name it. He refuses to be set up with anyone. He says I'm like her."

"Determined?"

"Good at changing a flat." She joked. Within minutes, he'd pulled up at the 24 hour store. Syd piled handfuls of candy and sodas into his arms as he followed her around the store, noting that she'd picked up both of their favorites as well as Nat's. "Right, let's go wait for your niece or nephew to be fashionably late?"

~~~~~

Fashionably late was an understatement. Syd was certain that she'd sat in the cold, uncomfortable plastic chairs for so long that she'd imagined everything that had happened in the office. It was all some sleep deprived fever dream her mind had conjured up to taunt her with. Fueled by sour gummy sweets, she'd arranged for Tina and Connor to run prep that morning. If the baby hadn't arrived before lunch service, she'd planned to take Carmy's car to the restaurant and work alongside Richie. The evening would have to wait until later to figure out. While she tried to decide if the images in her mind from earlier were a dream or a memory, she felt him stir next to her in the seat. His head had fallen into the curve of her neck while he'd slept. She felt the brush of his nose behind her ear, followed by a kiss. 

"D'ya sleep?"

"No. I sorted out tomorrow. Today. Whatever, it's covered til this evening at least and I'll burn that bridge when I get to it." He slumped in the chair and checked messages from Richie asking for an update. 

"Richie?"

"I spoke to him while you were asleep, he knows what's happening. Can I ask you something?" He turned to face her, a small nod urging her to continue. "Were you really coming to see me that night?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"Yeah. I uh, I'd been thinking since the walk-in about How good we were. How good you were. Or are now, I guess. I was gonna go all in on," he gestured between them, "all of this - the restaurant, the stars. I needed you to know that you have my full focus."

"At 3am?"

"It was important to me that you knew."

"Looks like we were on the same page." 

"As usual. You should sleep. I'll see if Pete wants to switch." He yawned. 

"I'm OK. You wanna go change, take a shower?"

"With you?" He asked, hopefully. 

"Alone. For now. If Pete needs a break too, someone needs to be here for Nat." She smiled shyly. "But, y’know, good to know that earlier wasn't some weird fucking delirious dream."

"I'm gonna need to hear more about these dreams -" 

"Hey guys, Nat's asked me to take a break. I’m stressing her out." Pete came out with a tired smile before Carmy could say anymore. 

"You need to eat something, and you need to sleep for a couple hours." Syd told him

"Ahh I don't want to leave her for too long." 

"You don't have to," Carmy assured him. "I'll get you back here in an hour if you wanna skip the sleep part?" He looked torn.

"Dude, you can't look after Nat if you're starving and exhausted." Syd warned him. 

"You're right. And you'll stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere." She promised. 

"I'll go tell her." He said gratefully. When they'd been left alone again, Carmy turned to Syd.

"Sure you're good to stay? Thought you hated hospitals?"

"Well turns out the Berzatto's are very persuasive."

"We can be."

"And Nat has called me a genius before so I feel like she already likes me more than you." 

“That’s guaranteed. You don’t piss her off half as much as I do.” He checked over her shoulder for Pete’s reappearance before kissing her softly. “You need anything?” As if on command, her stomach rumbled loudly. 

“Food, please.” She sniggered, hiding her face in his collar. “What time is it? What meal is it?” She checked her phone to see 4am glaring at her.

“I’ll find you something, I’ll be back with breakfast.” He gave her some space as Pete returned with his coat, barely noticing their proximity.

“OK, let’s make this quick.” He sighed, “thanks Sydney.”

“No problem, Pete. I’ll see you guys later.” She went straight in to Nat, not wanting to leave her on her own purely so she could watch Carmy leave.

~~~~~

The tired blond smiled as she entered, but the toll of the evening was written all over her face. “Oh, Nat.” Syd sighed. “How you holding up?”

“Thank god you’re here. Pete’s great but I need to vent and he’s just being too nice. I feel like I can’t even yell at him, it’s like kicking a puppy.”

“I’m all yours, have at it.”

“I fucking hurt all over and I’m so fucking tired and I swear to god if someone doesn’t pull this baby from my fucking body right now then it can just fucking stay there and I’ll go back to work and it just stays there forever.” She growled as another contraction gripped her.

“Wow. OK, if that’s what you wanna do then I’ll bust you outta here right now. We’ll get back to work, help Tina with prep and get you serving tables by lunchtime?” Nat glared at her. “Can you even get up? Will they let you?”

“I’m not really clear on what I can do, no one is telling me anything except ‘be patient, baby will get here when they’re ready’. Be patient? Be fucking patient?”

“Are you hooked up to any machines or anything?” Syd looked around the bed but couldn’t see anything. “Doesn’t look like it. Wanna go for a walk?” Nat looked up suddenly,

“Really? Pete didn’t think it was a good idea.” She frowned.

“Your body, your rules. What’s it telling you?” 

“To stretch my legs.”

“So let's do it.” Syd held out her hands and Nat turned on the bed so that her feet hung over the side. She wiggled further forward on the bed, hanging onto Syd’s hands until her wooly socked feet hit the ground. She beamed at Syd, instantly looking more relaxed. “There’s the Nat I know. Come on, we’ll just have a little walk around this little area.” Syd propped open the door with a chair and held out her arm for Nat to take her elbow. They walked slowly through the deserted corridors to the elevators, past the nurses station, to the vending machines and back again doing a little loop. They paused occasionally for Nat’s contractions, but she didn’t want to stop. 

“Thought you were gonna get bed sores from sittin’ down all day!” A nurse called out as she passed them on their third loop. 

“I ditched the overprotective husband for an hour.” Nat smiled.

“Told you a walk would feel good. I was about to come and get you up anyway. Mind if I have a feel?” She gestured to Nat’s bump, Nat shrugged in agreement as the nurse placed her firm hands on Nat’s stomach. “Feels good, I think baby will be a little more energized after a walk.” She confirmed. “Head back if you feel unwell, I’m not birthing this baby in a corridor though, yeah?” Nat agreed and they carried on walking.

“How’s it feel?” Syd asked.

“Y’know Christmas?” Nat grimaced as they paused again, 

“Uhh yeah?”

“When you have to move fucking everything in your house to make room for a gigantic fucking tree that just sits there for weeks and then you have to get rid of it and put all the furniture back to where it was before?”

“Yeah?”

“Like that.”

“That’s fucked, Nat.” Syd laughed. Her loud laugh in the quiet corridor made Nat laugh until she was doubled over and clinging to Syd. 

“Oww! Fuck, OK no more laughing.”

“Yep, no more. Wanna head back to bed?”

“Yeah, time to take this fucking Christmas tree down.” They giggled as Syd guided Nat back past the elevators and to her room. Back in the room, Nat spotted a yoga ball that had been shoved in a corner, “lemme at that thing.” Syd placed it behind Nat and held it in place with her feet, using her hands to guide Nat to sit on the ball. She bounced gently on the spot,

“Yeah?” “Yeah, feels good.”

“Good. Let’s hope that was a good enough eviction notice.” They talked quietly while Nat bounced on the birthing ball, with Syd explaining the plans for the fall menu and the expected visit from Luca. 

“He’s cute, if I remember correctly?” Nat asked, distracting herself from the pain of another contraction.

“I’ve seen him once on a video call with Marcus, but he’s not bad I guess? Those are getting much closer together by the way.”

“Yeah they are. Is he single?” 

“How the hell should I know, Nat?” Syd laughed, checking the time on her phone against Nat’s contractions.

“I’m just pointing out that you don’t need to live like a nun! It’s still months before we’ll hear anything about the Michelin guide or James Beard. Months is plenty long enough for you to relax a little.”

“Every two minutes. I’m not gonna take my eye off the ball. Not a chance. He’s here for a week, I don’t have the energy to be not-dating someone who lives in Denmark.” 

“It’d be a shame to let that kinda cute pass you by?” Nat giggled, pausing halfway through for a contraction.

“Who’s cute?” Pete asked, coming through the open door, “nice ball.”

“You are, honey. Thanks, Syd found it for me. We’ve been gently encouraging this baby towards the exit and I think -” she held up her hand,

“Deep breath, Nat. It’s gonna pass, just hold on a couple more seconds.” Syd held Nat’s other hand as Pete hovered nervously and Carmy watched from the doorway.

“It’s working.” Nat finished her previous sentence. “It’s close, there’s hardly a break now.”

“I know, very close. I’m gonna call for the nurse, Pete, you wanna help Nat get wherever she’s comfortable?”

“On the ball. Staying here, don’t make me move, Syd?”

“You don’t need to move babe, it’s ok. Pete’s got you now, OK? I’m gonna get your nurse and we’ll see you really soon.” She kissed Nat’s cheek as she got up from the floor and patted Pete’s arm reassuringly. “She wants to move around.” She muttered to Pete in warning before pulling Carmy away from the door and closing it behind them.

“New career?”

“Fuck off,” she laughed, “I need to find a nurse.” She looked both ways down the corridor and headed to the nurses station where she caught the nurse who’d seen them earlier, “It’s go time. Contractions are about a minute and a half apart, she’s on the birthing ball and she wants to stay there.” Syd explained.

“That sounds perfect, I’m on my way. Nice work!” The nurse beamed at her. She and Carmy made their way back to the hard plastic seats and he handed her a breakfast sandwich.

“Oh my god, this looks insane.” Her eyes lit up as she unwrapped the wax paper. “Did you eat?” She asked through her first mouthful. He nodded,

“Showered, changed, let Pete sleep for maybe 30 minutes and then grabbed food on the way back.” 

“Perfect timing, that baby is, like, literally about to arrive.” “You both seemed pretty calm about it?”

“Just trying to keep her busy, talking about other stuff. I’m not saving you any of this, by the way.” She held up her sandwich.

“Heard, Chef. Talking about Luca?”

“She thinks I should ask him out or something.”

“Or something? What’dyou think about that?” He asked curiously. She finished her sandwich and sat back in the seat.

“I think I’m way too busy.” She shrugged. “I’m shadowing this amazing chef, working all the hours I can, I don’t have any spare time at all.” He smiled bashfully and bumped her with his shoulder.

“Good.”

“Good.” She leaned into him and he scrolled through his phone, showing her the pictures he’d taken of the place he’d brought her breakfast from, the messages he and Richie had exchanged about Nat being in the hospital and the Bear group chat which had a bunch of good luck messages for Natalie and Pete. It wasn’t long before Pete emerged, a blissful smile on his face.

“Well?” Carmy asked, sitting bolt upright.

“It’s a girl,” he grinned, his eyes filling with tears, “a little girl! She’s so tiny, she’s 7lbs exactly, she has so much dark blond hair! And blue eyes,” Syd felt her heart fill with love at just hearing about the baby in the next room. “She arrived about an hour ago. Guys, I’m so in love. She’s just being measured and dressed while Nat takes a shower, give it a few minutes and you can come in.” Pete held out his hand to shake but Carmy, tears making their way down his cheeks, pulled the taller man into a hug. 

"That's amazing, dude. Amazing." He dragged a hand down his face. 

"How's Nat?" Syd asked, 

"She's OK. Exhausted, took a lot longer than we thought. I mean, I called you guys at, like, midnight? You've been here for about 7 hours, I'm so sorry." Pete looked torn between guilt and relief.

"Don't be, we wouldn't have missed it." She reassured him, Carmy nodded in agreement. 

"We'll get some sleep before service, Tina's got prep covered."

"Well, we'll be here most of the day I think. I know Nat wants to go home today though."

"Let us know when you're home and we'll come over with some food." Carmy suggested, Syd couldn't help her tired mind lingering on the consistent use of us and we throughout the exchange. 24 hours without sleep - the majority of it spent on her feet and working - she could feel tiredness creeping into her bones. 

"Yeah, that's great. I'd better get back in there, I'll give you a shout when we're ready for you?" He made his way back to Nat and the baby. Syd dug around in her pocket for change for the coffee machine until a five dollar bill was waved in her eye line. 

"Aha, thanks Carm." She fumbled with the machine to get a drink for each of them and then slumped back in her seat. "What's the plan?"

"Back to mine, if you want? Sleep, and then get to the restaurant just before service. Work through, then ditch the farmer's market and sleep instead tomorrow?"

"Promise?"

"Might need to wake up eventually to make something for Nat and Pete, but otherwise, fuck yes."

"I'm just gonna call my dad. Let him know." She pulled out her phone and hurriedly gave him the basics before he left for work. She was just ending the call as Pete came back for them. She pushed Carmy ahead of her with her hand in the small of his back, sensing his apprehension. She could feel him relax against her once he saw Nat smiling at him through tears, 

"Come meet baby bear," she urged them both as they crept into the room. "This is Mila. Mila, this is Uncle Carmy and Auntie Syd." Syd held her breath as she peered over Carmy's shoulder to see the baby, hand still firmly on his back. "Wanna hold her?"

"You first," Carmy suggested, sidestepping to let her in. 

"No fucking way dude, she's your niece."

"What if I do it wrong?" He hissed. Nat was already holding Mila out to him, prompting him to raise his elbow like this and put his other hand like that. She settled the baby into his arms, "Hi sweet girl," he whispered finally, staring at her with matching stormy blue eyes and dark blond curls. 

"The Berzatto genes are strong, sorry Pete!" Syd smiled, 

"No complaints here, she looks like her mama." 

"She's gorgeous," Syd brushed her index finger against Mila's tiny hand and the baby opened her fist to grip the finger. "Same blue eyes as you," she said to Carmy. After a few minutes, he handed the baby to her and she took in the mess of curls and sleepy eyes, "so do all Berzatto's look the same when they're born?" Nat smiled softly, 

"From what I remember of our three baby pictures, yeah."

"Well if it helps, you all grow up pretty cute too. How're you feeling?" 

"Tired, I swear when we called Carmen she was about to arrive. Then everything just stopped for so long, thank you for waiting."

"Of course. Hopefully they'll let you go home later."

"God I hope so, I'd rather do this from my own fucking bed." Nat sighed. Mila grew restless in Syd's arms so she passed her back to Nat. "She'll need feeding again I think."

"We'll leave you guys to it, let you get some rest." Carmy kissed Nat's cheek. "I'll call you later."

~~~~~

[cauldronblssd]

Found in the Sunlight - Ch 6

Nesta and Feyre stir the pot.

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

Lucien stepped into the office at the River House, surprised to see only Feyre sitting at the desk, her brows furrowed as she read over some droll looking paperwork. A prick of guilt caught him as he thought back to her time in Spring, hungry and unable to so much as write her sisters a letter. The room had grown dim in as evening set in, and Lucien lifted his hand to light the fire as he approached her. He clasped his arms behind his back, standing in front of her desk. “You summoned?”  

She looked up from her paperwork, giving him a nervous smile that didn’t reach her eyes. That did not bode well. Feyre’s no timid human anymore, at least not where he’s concerned.   

"Don’t be so formal. Come Sit.” She moved to the plush armchair and motioned for him to come sit next to her. He followed. After years of service to the Night Court, and how his life had fallen apart in this very room just a few days ago, Lucien had grown to hate this office.  

“Just us?” If it were just a casual conversation between friends, she hardly would have called him for a meeting like this.  

“Rhys is putting Nyx down for a nap. I’d wanted to talk to you in private, but if you’d prefer Elain to be here, I can get her.” She looked at him expectantly, picking at an errant bit of tried paint on her knuckles.    

Lucien shook his head. “Just us is fine. What’s this about Feyre? You seem nervous.”  

“Do you want some tea? Cerridwen brought some in earlier.” Feyre had already half stood as she said it, belying her eagerness to delay the conversation. She was stalling.  

Lucien did not make a habit of denying his high lady, why start now? “Sure, thank you.”   

Feyre stood up to walk to a table against the wall, grabbing two mugs pouring them each a cup of golden-brown tea. Steam rose off the delicate cup, a deep blue etched with a golden design of stars and moons. The liquid scalded his throat as he took a deep drink.   

Feyre sat back down and took a moment to stir her tea absently while she seemed to gather herself. “I have something to share with you, that I probably should have brought up years ago. It just never seemed like the right time. But with everything.” She gestured towards him.  

“The upending of my whole life you mean?” Lucien joked, hoping to put her at ease.   

Feyre smiled back. “Yes, all of that. You are about to become my family, officially.”  

“You were already a pest before you were ever my sister.”   

Feyre laughed. “And I could be worse, believe me. Just ask, Nesta.”   

“I’ll make sure and tell her about when you painted me as a pig.”   

“You deserved that.” Feyre swatted at his arm.  

“I would never deny it.” Feyre took a long sip of tea as she seemed to sober. “You didn’t bring me in here to welcome me to the family though.”  

Feyre frowned. “No. Lucien, do you remember when we were at Hybern...” Lucien winced at her words. That is a day that is permanently etched in his memory. He’d dreamt about it too many nights to count. During the day, too, he thought of all the ways he could have done things differently, how his life might have changed if he had been braver or better. “When you broke out of that spell to get to Elain, those weren't Autumn Court powers.” 

[beardedmrbean]

Two highly skilled pilots from the Dolna Mitropolia Air Base have tragically lost their lives in a crash involving an L-39ZA combat training aircraft. The incident occurred at the Third Air Base in Graf Ignatievo, with Major Petko Dimitrov Dimitrov and Senior Lieutenant Ventsislav Atanasov Dunkin identified as the deceased.

Defense Minister Atanas Zapryanov provided details at a press briefing, revealing that the accident took place on September 13, 2024, during a training flight. The flight was part of the preparations for the upcoming airshow scheduled for September 14. The plane, which had undergone significant repairs and was deemed technically sound, crashed at 12:30 p.m. after an initial flight at 12:17 p.m.

The aircraft had been thoroughly checked before takeoff and had recently undergone capital restoration. Despite these measures, the plane crashed during what was described as a routine training exercise. Minister Zapryanov confirmed that the military prosecutor's office and the aviation accident investigation inspectorate from the Military Police are on site, with their findings to be shared once the investigation concludes.

The Air Force Commander, Major General Dimitar Petrov, described the accident as occurring during a planned training exercise that had been in preparation for several months. He emphasized that the pilots were exceptional in their field, with Major Dimitrov being one of Bulgaria's most experienced L-39 pilots and Senior Lieutenant Dunkin showing great promise. Both pilots had a distinguished track record, with Major Dimitrov serving as the Head of Flight Planning and Reporting and Senior Lieutenant Dunkin recognized for his professional performance.

In recognition of their contributions and to honor their memory, Defense Minister Zapryanov has announced three days of mourning within the armed forces. Prime Minister Dimitar Glavchev also extended his condolences to the families and colleagues of the fallen pilots. Major General Petrov mourned not only the loss of two top instructors but also a close friend, reflecting on the significant impact of their loss on the Air Force community.

Major Petko Dimitrov Dimitrov graduated from the Higher Air Force School "G. Benkovski" - the town of Dolna Mitropolia in 1996, specialty "Airmen - navigators". He has been in the position of "Head of the Flight Planning and Reporting Service" in the "Flight-Tactical Training" department in military formation 52 090-Dolna Mitropolia since December 1, 2021.

Major Dimitrov has been awarded many times by the Minister of Defense and the Commander of the Air Force for the impeccable performance of his official duties.

Major Petko Dimitrov was a family man.

Senior Lieutenant Vencislav Atanasov Dunkin graduated from the Higher Air Force School "G. Benkovski" - Dolna Mitropolia in 2020, specialty "Pilot". The position "Junior expert III degree in the service "Aviation, emergency rescue and simulator training" of the department "Aviation-tactical training" in military formation 52090-Dolna Mitropolia" is from January 1, 2023.

Senior Lieutenant Vencislav Dunkin was awarded for professional performance of tasks by the commander of the Air Force.

The two pilots performed a training task today with an L-39ZA combat trainer aircraft as part of the preparation for participation in the dynamic (air) display within the Airshow at the Graf Ignatievo Air Base, scheduled for September 14, 2024. The aircraft is prepared for flight according to The regulation for technical maintenance of the L-39ZA aircraft and is allowed to perform the task in a fully operational condition.

An L-39ZA aircraft was repaired under a contract between the Ministry of Defense and AERO Vodochody AEROSPACE a.s. Czech Republic and received after refit in June 2024.

[mariacallous]

On a recent evening, Micaela Maldano unfurled a blanket in a public park in El Jagüel, a poor suburb of Buenos Aires. On it, the 28-year-old arranged used clothes, a mate tea gourd, and a backpack—secondhand household goods she hoped to trade directly for food. “It’s getting harder and harder to eat,” Maldano said. “There are tons of people who are hungry.” She called the taste of meat, an Argentine staple, a “distant memory.”

Maldano is not alone. More Argentines are resorting to desperate measures such as bartering to put food on their tables as the country weathers an economic crisis. Financial tumult has long been part of life in Argentina, which ended 2023 with an annual inflation rate of more than 200 percent. But humble households such as Maldano’s have fallen into deeper precarity since far-right libertarian President Javier Milei was inaugurated last December. Maldano rents an apartment with her boyfriend, and the two rely mostly on his salary and informal trades to get by.

Days after taking office, Milei devalued the Argentine peso by more than 50 percent, and already sky-high inflation rates ascended even further. Since then, the cost of gas in Argentina has roughly doubled. Food prices have risen by roughly 50 percent, according to official government data. Health care costs have increased at a similar clip. Around the two-month mark of Milei’s presidency, Argentina’s annual inflation rate topped 250 percent, surpassing that of Venezuela to become the highest in Latin America.

As the price hikes intensified, Milei slashed subsidies for services ranging from transportation to utilities, honoring his campaign pledge to take a metaphorical “chainsaw” to public spending. The move put even more pressure on Argentines’ pocketbooks.

On the campaign trail, Milei—a political outsider—suggested abolishing Argentina’s central bank and dollarizing its economy, outlandish proposals that raised eyebrows among observers. But in office, his strategy has so far been more conventional: a fiscal adjustment plan designed to reverse longstanding government deficits through budget cuts and tax hikes. The president has described his austerity package, a significant departure from the Argentine tradition of reckless government spending, as “shock therapy.”

“It’s a fairly traditional approach to stabilization,” said Benjamin Gedan, the director of the Latin America Program at the Wilson Center. “That doesn’t mean it’s not dramatic and high stakes. … It’s an act of either political courage or political suicide.”

For everyday citizens, Milei’s austerity has been devastating. Salaries and pensions have not come close to keeping up with inflation. Workers’ purchasing power fell by roughly 14 percent month-over-month at the end of 2023, a contraction not seen in decades. Demand for food at soup kitchens is surging. A study released earlier this month from the Catholic University of Argentina estimates that the country’s poverty rate surpassed 57 percent in January. According to the same group of researchers, 49.5 percent of Argentines lived in poverty in December 2023, when Milei took over. At the end of 2022, 43.1 percent were considered poor.

Sebastián Menescaldi, an economist and the director of the Buenos Aires-based EcoGo consultancy, forecasts that the most painful period of Milei’s economic shock is yet to come. Starting this month, utility price hikes will combine with back-to-school costs to wallop families’ bottom lines. (In Argentina, summer breaks run from Christmas through February.) In March and beyond, “people will feel like they are drowning,” Menescaldi said.

As average Argentines suffer, Milei’s strategy has yielded some positive macroeconomic indicators. The peso devaluation has made imports more expensive, slowing them down—and decreasing the amount of money flowing out of Argentina. As a result, the cash-strapped central bank has started replenishing some of its dwindling dollar reserves. Meanwhile, the government posted an elusive budget surplus in January. And although monthly inflation reached a crushing 20.6 percent that month, it was lower than December’s rate of 25.5 percent.

But experts agree that the fiscal adjustments that made those trends possible could provoke a looming recession; Milei’s spate of spending cuts, they argue, will choke economic growth. The Institute of International Finance, an association of global financial firms, is predicting that the Argentine economy will contract 7.8 percent in the first quarter of this year. The International Monetary Fund, meanwhile, forecasts a 2.8 percent annual contraction.

Milei’s administration hopes that a recession will prove short-lived, but Menescaldi said that is unlikely. The economist is forecasting a “strong” upswing in unemployment and a further rise in the poverty rate. Because a gap persists between the official peso-dollar exchange rate and the black-market rate used by most Argentines, Milei might institute another inflationary currency devaluation in the future. Contributing to Argentina’s uncertainty are the governance challenges facing Milei, whose fledgling libertarian party occupies a minority of seats in Congress and holds no provincial governorships.

So far, the president has not displayed the political savvy needed to navigate that difficult political terrain. When a sweeping bill that would have deregulated swaths of the economy failed to become law due to congressional pushback, Milei inveighed against opposition lawmakers as “traitors” who “voted against the people.” Meanwhile, an attempt to pass labor law reforms via executive order was blocked by the courts. Enacting structural reforms as ambitious as the ones proposed by Milei “takes enormous patience, skill, and willingness to compromise,” Gedan said. “It’s not clear that [Milei] has those.”

Milei has drawn criticism for his apparent lack of focus on the nation’s woes. Recent headlines in Argentina have fixated on an ongoing feud between the president and a leftist pop star, who criticized cuts to public funding for the arts and described Milei’s rise as “dangerous.” And at the end of February, Milei flew to the United States to speak at the 2024 Conservative Political Action Conference alongside other far-right Trumpian acolytes.

Still, recent public opinion surveys show a majority of Argentines continue to support Milei. A poll released at the end of February pegged his approval rating at 52 percent, higher than any other national politician. The president has placed responsibility for households’ mounting economic difficulties on his “inheritance” from Peronist predecessors, and the blame game seems to be working. “He still retains a very robust amount of support,” said Federico Zapata, a political scientist and the director general of the polling firm Escenarios. Menescaldi added, “Argentine society largely agrees that this fiscal adjustment is something that we had to do.”

Time will tell whether the public will remain on board with Milei’s reforms as the standard of living deteriorates. Resistance is already building: It took Argentina’s largest labor union just seven weeks to call for a general strike in opposition to Milei’s government, which took place in January. Rail service workers, health care workers, and government employees walked off the job for additional work stoppages in February. Teachers’ strikes have already disrupted the beginning of the school year.

Some experts worry that anti-Milei mobilization could escalate into full-blown social upheaval if economic conditions fail to turn around. On the street, everyday Argentines have begun making concerned references to the 2001 debt crisis, which led to civil unrest and bloody riots. “I think there are going to be lootings, and just really tough times coming up,” Maldano said.

In Gedan’s view, Argentina is currently “teetering on the edge of a cliff.” If the Milei experiment ends in failure, it is difficult to envision Argentines giving another pro-market candidate a chance. “Most people agree that … everything is either going to collapse or, somehow, [Milei is] going to survive politically long enough to show the benefits of his policies,” Gedan said. “But just sputtering along on the verge of a crisis doesn’t seem to be possible anymore.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Roevember

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 29, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 30, 2024

And now the U.S. Army has weighed in on the scandal surrounding Trump’s visit to Arlington National Cemetery for a campaign photo op, after which his team shared a campaign video it had filmed. The Army said that the cemetery hosts almost 3,000 public wreath-laying ceremonies a year without incident and that Trump and his staff “were made aware of federal laws, Army regulations and [Department of Defense] policies, which clearly prohibit political activities on cemetery grounds.” 

It went on to say that a cemetery employee “who attempted to ensure adherence to these rules was abruptly pushed aside…. This incident was unfortunate, and it is also unfortunate that the… employee and her professionalism has been unfairly attacked. [Arlington National Cemetery] is a national shrine to the honored dead of the Armed Forces, and its dedicated staff will continue to ensure public ceremonies are conducted with the dignity and respect the nation’s fallen deserve.” 

“I don’t think I can adequately explain what a massive deal it is for the Army to make a statement like this,” political writer and veteran Allison Gill of Mueller, She Wrote, noted. “The Pentagon avoids statements like this at all costs. But a draft dodging traitor decided to lie about our armed forces staff, so they went to paper.”

The deputy Pentagon press secretary Sabrina Singh said the Department of Defense is “aware of the statement that the Army issued, and we support what the Army said.” Hours later, Trump campaign manager Chris LaCivita reposted the offending video on X and, tagging the official account for Army Secretary Christine Wormuth, said he was “hoping to trigger the hacks” in her office. 

In Talking Points Memo, Josh Marshall reported that the Trump campaign’s plan was to lay a wreath at Arlington National Cemetery to honor the 13 members of the U.S. military killed in the suicide bombing during the evacuation of Kabul, Afghanistan, in August 2021. They intended to film the event and then attack Vice President Kamala Harris and President Joe Biden for not “showing up” for the event, which they intended to portray as an “established memorial.”

Another major story from yesterday is that the Treasury Department’s Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) has finalized two rules that will work to stop corruption and money laundering in U.S. residential real estate and in private investment. 

This is a big deal. As scholar of kleptocracies Casey Michel put it: “This is a massive, massive deal in the world of counter-kleptocracy—the U.S. is finally ending the gargantuan anti–money laundering loopholes for real estate, private equity, hedge funds, and more. Can't overstate how important this is. What a feat.” 

​​After the collapse of the Soviet Union in late 1991, the oligarchs who rose to power in the former Soviet republics looked to park their illicit money in western democracies, where the rule of law would protect their investments. Once invested in the United States, they favored the Republicans, who focused on the protection of wealth rather than social services. For their part, Republican politicians focused on spreading capitalism rather than democracy, arguing that the two went hand in hand.

The financial deregulation that made the U.S. a good bet for oligarchs to launder money got a boost when, shortly after the September 11, 2001, attacks, Congress passed the USA PATRIOT Act to address the threat of terrorism. The law took on money laundering and the illicit funding of terrorism, requiring financial institutions to inspect large sums of money passing through them. But the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) exempted many real estate deals from the new regulations. 

The United States became one of the money-laundering capitals of the world, with hundreds of billions of dollars laundered in the U.S. every year. 

In 2011 the international movement of illicit money led then–FBI director Robert Mueller to tell the Citizens Crime Commission of New York City that globalization and technology had changed the nature of organized crime. International enterprises, he said, “are running multi-national, multi-billion dollar schemes from start to finish…. They may be former members of nation-state governments, security services, or the military…. These criminal enterprises are making billions of dollars from human trafficking, health care fraud, computer intrusions, and copyright infringement. They are cornering the market on natural gas, oil, and precious metals, and selling to the highest bidder…. These groups may infiltrate our businesses. They may provide logistical support to hostile foreign powers. They may try to manipulate those at the highest levels of government. Indeed, these so-called ‘iron triangles’ of organized criminals, corrupt government officials, and business leaders pose a significant national security threat.”

Congress addressed this threat in 2021 by including the Corporate Transparency Act in the National Defense Authorization Act. It undercut shell companies and money laundering by requiring the owners of any company that is not otherwise overseen by the federal government (by filing taxes, for example, or through close regulation) to file with FinCEN a report identifying (by name, birth date, address, and an identifying number) each person associated with the company who either owns 25% or more of it or exercised substantial control over it. The measure also increased penalties for money laundering and streamlined cooperation between banks and foreign law enforcement authorities. That act went into effect on January 1, 2024.

Meanwhile, the Biden administration made fighting corruption a centerpiece of its attempt to shore up democracy both at home and abroad. In June 2021, President Biden declared the fight against corruption a core U.S. national security interest. “Corruption threatens United States national security, economic equity, global anti-poverty and development efforts, and democracy itself,” he wrote. “But by effectively preventing and countering corruption and demonstrating the advantages of transparent and accountable governance, we can secure a critical advantage for the United States and other democracies.” 

In March 2023 the Treasury told Congress that “[m]oney laundering perpetrated by the Government of the Russian Federation (GOR), Russian [state-owned enterprises], Russian organized crime, and Russian elites poses a significant threat to the national security of the United States and the integrity of the international financial system,” and it outlined the ways in which it had been trying to combat that corruption. 

Now FinCEN has firmed up rules to add anti-money-laundering safeguards to private real estate and private investment. They will require certain industry professionals to report information to FinCEN about cash transfers of residential real estate to a legal entity or trust, transactions that “present a high illicit finance risk,” FinCEN wrote. “The rule will increase transparency, limit the ability of illicit actors to anonymously launder illicit proceeds through the American housing market, and bolster law enforcement investigative efforts.” The real estate rule will go into effect on December 1, 2025.

The rule about investment advisors will make the obligation to report suspicious financial activity apply to certain financial advisors. This rule will go into effect on January 1, 2026.

“The Treasury Department has been hard at work to disrupt attempts to use the United States to hide and launder ill-gotten gains,” Secretary of the Treasury Janet L. Yellen explained. “That includes by addressing our biggest regulatory deficiencies, including through these two new rules that close critical loopholes in the U.S. financial system that bad actors use to facilitate serious crimes like corruption, narcotrafficking, and fraud. These steps will make it harder for criminals to exploit our strong residential real estate and investment adviser sectors.”

“I applaud FinCEN’s commonsense efforts to prevent corrupt actors from using the American residential real estate and private investment sectors as safe havens for hiding dirty money,” Senator Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) said in a statement. “For too long, vulnerabilities in the system have attracted kleptocrats, cartels, and criminals looking to stow away their ill-gotten gains. I hope FinCEN will apply similar safeguards to commercial real estate, as well as due diligence requirements to investment advisors. These are all welcome steps toward keeping our country and financial system safe and secure for the American people—not those who wish to abuse it.”

The Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe (also known as the Helsinki Commission) brought the history of modern money laundering full circle. It said: “We welcome the Treasury Department's decision to close off crucial pathways for Russian money laundering and sanctions evasion through real estate and private equity.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[laundrypause]

Another outline of a prompt that I can't get out of my head. CW: mentions of death

Trains-and train stations in general-were something Oscar tried to avoid in general. No it wasn't because he hated being confined in a metal box with crowds pushing so close to him he could practically taste the salt of their sweat (well, he did hate it). They just bring some less than pleasant memories back to the surface which he's tried hard to push deep, deep into the depths of his mind.

"Promise we'll meet here tonight?"

"Promise"

A promise broken. A heart left abandoned. Yea, not really something he likes thinking about. Unfortunately for Oscar though, his car's under maintenance and the train was the only viable option for him to take if he didn't want to be late. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do in the name of surviving capitalism. He willed his erratic heartbeat to a calm, wiping his clammy palms onto his shorts before entering the train station. The train station. God, it hasn't changed a bit. The benches are still the same, the guy who works at the newsstand is still the same. Even the (mildly concerning) stench of piss is still the same.

"I bet you 20 bucks that I can lick the floor and not get sick."

Stop. Stop thinking about him. It seems like luck was shining down on him today because next thing Oscar knew, the train was rolling into the station, screeching to a halt. He got in and found a seat which honestly was surprising considering it was still the morning work rush. Actually, the cabin he was in looked...kind of empty. Save for two other commuters looking like they were getting off soon, he was alone. Pretty weird but he isn't going to question his unbelievable luck. Maybe this was an apology from the universe for what happened that nigh-

Oscar's been waiting for hours but Logan still hasn't showed up. He's tried calling the boy's phone but it always gets sent to voicemail. It's nearing 1 am now and the train station was officially empty. They promised they'd meet each other here. It was supposed to be their first official date. Now, seemingly, Logan's blown him off. He's cold, he's hungry and he's frankly kinda pissed.

"Oscar"

He jerks awake. When had he fallen asleep? Oscar wildly looks around him, trying to gather his bearings as he takes in his surroundings. That-he hasn't thought about that night in years, choosing to lock it up somewhere far and deep. Somewhere it can't hurt him anymore. He feels the train slowing down to a stop. Good, he needs to get out of here. He'll call in sick or something, Oscar just can't do this right now. He stands up from his seat, not noticing how his cabin-and the cabins around him- were eerily empty. No one was on the train with him. No one. Just his lonesome self which should have raised some alarm bells. But Oscar was oblivious, too in his head, too desperate to get out.

Once the train reached a complete stop and the doors opened, Oscar practically threw himself out. He was ready to run out of there but something caught his attention. The name of the station he just alighted the train at. No. No, it can't be. This has to be a joke right? Oscar's blinking, rubbing his eyes to be sure it's not playing tricks on him. It didn't help, it just seemed to make the name even sharper into focus.

Dawnborough

That's what the signage says. Dawnborough station. But that's impossible. Oscar boarded the train at Dawnborough. The train was heading to Hedgefield and the train service ends there. It doesn't go back here. He turns to ask someone, anyone really for help but there's no one. No one's here. Not even an officer patrolling the area. What the fuck? Is this some kind of sick joke? Is this what the universe thinks is funny? To-to taunt him with the place where everything in Oscar's life started going wrong? Is his suffering hilarious to them?

"Haha, great fucking joke guys. Taking me back to where my whole life started to fall apart! So funny! So fucking funny!"

"Oscar he-"

"-scar!"

Oscar jolted awake. For real this time. He's at his office at McLaren HQ. He's on the floor with sheets of paper surrounding him and Lando, his coworker, is peering down at him with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Mate, are you okay? You literally just fell out of your chair."

"Fine, 'm fine. Justa bad dream."

"You sure?"

"Yea, you know me, just trying to fight my inner demons." Oscar says, laughing mirthlessly.

"Were your inner demons named Logan? Hope you won your fight against him then. It did not look like just a bad dream."

At the mention of that name, all previous fight left Oscar's body. That name, it invoked something in him and he just wanted to be left alone, without his nosy co-worker trying to poke into his business.

"I'm fine, Lando. You can go back to whatever you were doing. Just need a minute."

"Oookay, good thing I was the one who caught you and not Andrea. Also, Zak said he needs the mechanics to stay behind for awhile today. Something about new upgrades to the car or something. I'll wait for you in the parking lot alright?"

Oscar gave a slight nod, honestly too exhausted to give anything more. With one last look at Oscar, Lando turns to leave.

Logan used to be all Oscar would think about. Every night, every day, just Logan Logan Logan. But ever since the incident happened, ever since he went missing, ever since his body was found, Oscar tried not to. It unlocks a part of him he's not ready to deal with. He makes to stand up, gathering the papers that were strewn across the floor. How does he even have this many blank papers at his desk? He grabs the last piece, stuck under his chair when he realizes that this one isn't blank. It has a word on it. A word that brings chills down his spine.

Help.

[intheshadowofwar]

19 June 2023

The Imperial Metropolis

London 19 June 2023

So I was just settling into bed tonight, thinking about what I needed to do tomorrow, when I had an inkling that I’d forgotten to do something. Something important. Now, I’d had my meds, so it wasn’t that, I’d eaten dinner, showered, all that good stuff, so what could it be?

Oh. Right. Log.

I woke up very early this morning to get the train from Edgware to Victoria, meeting the group at our hotel just before nine. We proceeded from there to Westminster Cathedral, briefly exploring that building and looking at the Martyr’s Memorial within, before carrying on to the somewhat more famous Westminster Abbey. After a brief interrogation of the statuary on Parliament Square, we went inside.

I highly doubt Westminster Abbey needs an introduction - it’s Britain’s most famous church, and dozens of kings and dignitaries are buried inside. To this day, Britain’s heroes are commemorated in these hallowed walls - Isaac Newton lies next to Stephen Hawking, and there’s Prime Ministers from Pitt to Wilson. It’s absolutely packed, of course, but I’d say it’s well worth a look. The main reason we visited, of course, was the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, the representative of all Britain’s (and previously the Empire’s) war dead. It is interesting, considering the secular nature of most WWI commemoration, just how Christian the tomb is - but I suppose it ought to be, given its place in an abbey. Still, one must remember that he ostensibly represents the Catholic and Jewish soldiers of Britain, not to mention the Hindus and Muslims of the Indian Army.

After the Abbey, we proceeded up Whitehall, looking at the Cenotaph, the Women’s Cenotaph for the Second World War, and the statue of Field Marshal Haig. We went through Horse Guards (Life Guards on duty today) and observed the memorial to the Foot Guards, and then carried on via the Royal Marines Memorial next to Admiralty Arch (a Boer War Memorial, as I can’t escape my thesis topic) to Trafalgar Square. We broke for lunch here, and I had mine in the crypt beneath St. Martin’s in the Field church. It was a nice little cafe, and only a few sandbags and posters away from looking like something right out of the Blitz. Maybe I shouldn’t give them ideas.

After lunch, we looked at the Edith Cavell Memorial. Cavell, for the uninitiated, was a British nurse in Belgium shot for supposed espionage on 12 October 1915 - the monument is tall and heroic, a real ‘King and Country’ sort of thing; the words are even emblazoned on it. This makes the addition of a quote from Cavell in the 1920s - “Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred in my heart for anybody.” - a rather curious juxtaposition. Still, it is well worth a look if one is at Trafalgar Square.

From St. Martin’s, we walked down to the Victoria Embankment Park, where a small memorial to the Imperial Camel Corps is situated. There was a brief discussion of Australian troops on leave in London, and then we carried on back up to the Strand and over to Australia House. Australia House, they say, is ‘our house’ in London; but security arrangements had fallen through, preventing us from going inside. Canada and New Zealand, we were told, are not so paranoid about security, and we would have had no problem going inside.

On the other side of the road was the St. Clement Danes Church, which served as a centre for Anzac and Armistice Day services for Australians in London during the interwar years. Today it’s the official church of the Royal Air Force. Statues of Air Marshals Dowding and ‘Bomber’ Harris stand sentinel outside, and the floor is marked with the crests of various RAF, RAAF, RCAF, RNZAF and affiliated squadrons. A panel lists the RAF’s VC and GC holders - notably Guy Gibson, commander of the Dams Raid in May 1943. Gibson’s been in the news lately - the conversion of RAF Scampton into a refugee torture chamb- I mean internment centre has placed his office and the grave of his dog under threat. Many people are very emotional about this grave - yet, in an absurdly farcical situation, they absolutely cannot mention it’s name. (The dog was black. The name rhymed with trigger. I’m sure you can put this one together.)

We broke up shortly after, and after a quick visit to Foyles and a brief rest at the hotel, I went with the professor and a few others to Skygarden. This is basically a garden and cafe on top of a skyscraper, and the views are spectacular. Best of all, entry is free. On the way home I fell down the stairs at Monument, and now there’s a big lump on my left arm. These things happen I suppose.

Tomorrow, we head to Green Park to interrogate the memorials there, before spending the lion’s share of the day at the Imperial War Museum. If it goes anything like today did, it’ll be a blast.