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[sageuniversitybpl]

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[bellaxgiornata]

As Luck Would Have It [1/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k [Part Two]

Warnings/tags: Humor, fluff, and a charming, teasing Matty

Summary: Stressed out while working on a dead-end case at Nelson, Murdock, and Page, Matt isn't too thrilled when Foggy interrupts and asks him for a favor. Despite his annoyance at another task being added to his list of things to do, Matt is shocked when the potential client Foggy asks him to call turns out to be a wrong number. What's even more surprising is how much Matt enjoys chatting with the woman on the other end of the line.

a/n: This is going to be a short, two part piece. It's light and fluffy so I hope y'all enjoy it! Feedback/reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwllf @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1

Matt’s fingers slid across his braille reader, his brows furrowed together in deep concentration as he focused on reading the digital document displayed on his laptop. This entire case had been draining him lately, only managing to aggravate him as he continually hit legal wall after legal wall trying to figure out how to help their client. What made things worse was that he knew what was really happening behind the scenes in this case that he, Foggy, and Karen had been working on, but he also knew that Matt Murdock wasn't supposed to know about any of that.  

With a vexed grunt he raised a hand from off his braille reader, running it through his hair in agitation as he blew out a frustrated breath. Tired of reading the same thing over and over with no new way forward, Matt pushed his chair back from the desk in annoyance. The desk lurched a few inches across the floor at the force as Matt grit his teeth together. 

He wished he could use the information he'd uncovered last night as Daredevil. That would have solved all of his problems and easily saved their client. But of course, none of that evidence was remotely admissible in court. So while he knew where the truth lay in this entire case, he was still currently helpless to use the law in his fight for justice. Though he was certainly determined to keep picking through detail after detail in search of something he could use to his client’s benefit.

The sound of footsteps approaching his office door caught Matt’s attention and his head shifted to the side. Matt pushed all thoughts of his frustrating case out of his mind as he focused on the noise. Barely a second later the sound of Foggy’s unmistakable heartbeat registered in his ears just before two knocks sounded against his door.

“What do you need, Fog?” Matt called out.

He heard the door handle twist, the door to his office opening as Foggy stepped inside. Matt didn’t have to exert much effort studying him to notice how stressed Foggy currently was. His blood pressure was quite clearly elevated this morning along with his cortisol levels–he could practically smell the stress in the faint bit of sweat on Foggy’s forehead. So apparently Matt wasn't the only one having a shitty day at the firm today. At least he wasn't alone in that.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy began hesitantly, stopping just inside his office before shifting his weight back and forth along his feet almost nervously. “I know you're busy running yourself into the ground for the Richmond case, and I know how frustrating it's been to keep hitting a deadend. But…” he trailed off for a moment, Matt catching the faint waver in his tone. “I was actually hoping to ask you for a favor this morning.”

Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses at Foggy. Leaning back in his desk chair, he lowered his hands down onto his lap and attempted to keep the annoyed fidgeting of his fingers hidden from his friend. The last thing Matt wanted right now was another task added to his agenda for the day. All he wanted was to make headway on this case before it drove him insane.

“What kind of favor?” he asked, trying to keep the edge from his tone.

Matt heard Foggy take a few more steps forward into his office, stopping just in front of his desk. The sound of something like a small slip of paper faintly rustled between Foggy’s fingers as he stood there. 

“Elliott got a call a bit ago from someone by the name of Edgar Philips who was potentially interested in hiring us,” Foggy began to explain, setting the paper down onto Matt's desk before sliding it across the surface towards him. “And the case sounded… interesting to say the least. But the thing is, Karen is out today dealing with the Rodriguez building permit thing, and I'm about to head over to the courthouse. So I was…sort of hoping you could call them back and handle the consultation? Somehow fit them in today?”

Matt could hear the way the muscles in Foggy’s face had contracted, sounding like he'd almost grimaced when he had asked for the favor. His heart rate had accelerated just a bit, meaning Fog was clearly anxious that Matt would decline to help take on even more work today. Truthfully he wanted to decline calling this possible client because he was already swamped with the Richmond case, but maybe taking a few minutes to focus on something else would benefit him. Maybe stepping away for a bit before coming back to things with a fresh mind would help him see things a little differently. Clearly he wasn’t making any progress this morning doing what he had been doing. 

With an exasperated sigh, Matt slid his hand across his desk to where he’d heard Foggy set the slip of paper. His fingers felt around the wooden surface for a second before he found it.

“Yeah, I'll make the call,” Matt told him, pulling the paper towards himself. 

Foggy let out a relieved breath, the sound of his entire body relaxing impossible for Matt's ears to miss. At least he could make Fog's day a little better.

“Great, seriously! Thank you, buddy,” Foggy said in a rush. “You have no idea how helpful that is right now. I've already got so much to do today, I really didn't know how I was going to fit that call in. And you know how bad the reception can be at the courthouse.” Foggy laughed good-naturedly, his mood already lifting. “But hey, before I go, did you need me to read that phone number off for you? Or dial it even?”

Matt's fingers ran over the indentation of Elliott's pen marks on the paper. Despite how scatterbrained their new secretary often tended to be, he at least appreciated that the man had a heavy hand when he took notes from the calls he answered. It at least made things easier for Matt to read without too much extra assistance–something he loathed having to ask for if he didn’t need to.

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I can make the numbers out just fine. Don't worry about me, Fog. Just go take care of what you need to. I'll deal with this Edgar Philips.”

Foggy’s hands clapped loudly together, Matt picking up on the sounds of his feet as he already began to back out of his office. 

“Thank you, Matt, you're a life saver!” he exclaimed. “You know, more than you usually are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said with a grin. “Can you just shut the door again on your way out, though?”

“Can do!” Foggy replied. 

Matt swore he heard the air shift as Foggy sent him a salute. Chuckling lightly at his best friend's ability to lighten the mood, he heard the sound of his office door closing before he heard the muffled sound of Foggy’s footsteps as he began making his exit from the office. 

For a minute Matt sat in his chair, listening as Foggy said a brief goodbye to Elliott before leaving. Then the usual ‘silence’ of their office returned. Though it was never truly quiet to Matt because he could still hear the hum of the lights in the building, the almost constant tapping of Elliott's fingers on his keyboard in the room over, and even the incessant buzzing of a fly that had been trapped in the office since yesterday afternoon. 

Foul mood slowly returning, Matt's fingers ran over the pen marks on the slip of paper still in his hands. Glancing down towards it, he wondered what the interesting case that Foggy had mentioned was actually supposed to be about. To Matt, interesting just translated to complicated, which was the last thing he needed right now. Though whatever it was, he figured getting the call out of the way would be the best course of action for now. Afterwards he’d be free to continue working on the Richmond case for the rest of the day, hopefully without any further interruptions or distractions.

Shifting in his chair, he slipped his cell phone from out of his dress pants pocket, the electronic hum of it louder now that it wasn’t muffled by fabric. He raised it to his mouth before speaking a few voice commands into it, then he took a second to recite the number he’d been given from off the paper. Sitting back in his chair, Matt listened to the familiar dial tone as he held the phone to his ear, but surprisingly it only managed to ring twice before someone had quickly answered.

“Seriously, Lindsey, I said I’d call afterwards,” a distinctly annoyed and hushed female voice came over the line. “There’s nothing of interest for me to report yet and now you’re just making me even more nervous. At this point my armpits are going to be as sweaty as my hands.”

Sitting forward in his chair, Matt rested his elbows along the top of his desk. A small grin slipped onto his mouth as he tossed the little slip of paper somewhere among the mess of papers before himself. He hadn’t expected that to be the response to his call, but now the person on the other end of the line had captured his undivided attention.

“Maybe you should try using more deodorant then,” Matt cheekily suggested.

A surprised gasp met his ear, the sound making his smile widen further. Clearly whoever he'd gotten ahold of had just now realized they were in fact not speaking with Lindsey. 

“Oh, shit,” came your clearly embarrassed and still hushed voice as the realization that you were speaking to someone else settled in. “I'm sorry, I totally thought you were my friend calling back. I didn't check the caller ID because I didn't want my ringtone to make any more of a nuisance than it already had been making because it's so loud. I swear I don't ever hear it if I don't have the volume up so high. But now I am incredibly regretting the decision to not just have taken the two seconds to look and check the number first.” 

There was a pause where you loudly cleared your throat over the line. Matt found himself still grinning at the word vomit that seemed to keep coming from you with no end in sight, his irritation at having to make this call quickly vanishing. His left hand began to absently fiddle with a pen from his desk as he listened to you ramble on further.

“Clearly you're not Lindsey and now I'm absolutely mortified,” you continued in a rush. “But for the record, I am wearing deodorant. A lot of it actually. I'm just nervous and it makes me extra sweaty, alright? I don't like job interviews. They terrify me.” Your voice dropped to an even quieter tone as you continued on, Matt not remotely interested in stopping you because you had easily become the most fascinating part of his day. “And I dislike when you have to sit and wait in those stiff plastic chairs while the secretary keeps shooting you random smiles from their desk like you're not about to vomit all over the floor from nerves. I swear they make you sit outside the office for at least ten minutes like it's some sort of extra secret test before the actual interview takes place. Are they supposed to be judging how I sit and do nothing? Or how I handle intentionally being asked to show up at a certain time but am purposely made to sit and wait? I swear, it’s done on purpose.”

“So what I'm gathering from all of that,” Matt finally began when you had paused to take a breath, still grinning as he spoke, “is that you are not the Edgar Philips I am looking for, nor were you the one who most likely tried contacting the law firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page earlier this morning on his behalf. Am I correct in that assumption?”

There was a very long pause on your end of the line after he'd spoken. Matt waited patiently for you to respond though, his left hand still leisurely flipping the pen back and forth between his fingers.

“Did you say…law firm?” you hesitantly asked. 

“Yes, I did,” Matt replied. 

“So you're a…?”

“Lawyer, yes. One of the partners, actually,” he answered easily. “And one who must have somehow gotten the wrong number it appears, judging by your response.”

“Yeah, I uh–” you cleared your throat again, “–I definitely didn't call your office today. And I am certainly not Edgar Philips.”

“Ahh well, my apologies,” Matt said, setting his pen back down on his desk before sitting back in his chair. “I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, especially at such an inconvenient time as right before a job interview. I suppose I shouldn’t further distract you.”

There was a small part of Matt that almost felt reluctant to end the call already, dreading having to ask Elliott for help with the clearly incorrect phone number so he could get in touch with the actual Mr. Philips before going back to that irritating Richmond case. You'd been an amusing distraction this morning at least. 

“Actually you've somehow managed to calm my nerves,” you replied. “Apparently embarrassing myself with a stranger has now made me feel less like vomiting.”

“Any less sweaty?” Matt teased, unable to help himself.

You laughed lightly over the line, the sound a pleasant one that seemed to ease the tension from Matt’s own body. Something about your voice and your way of immediately speaking to him as if you'd known him for longer than two minutes had drawn him in.

“Maybe a fraction less, thank you for that,” you answered. “You uh, you have a calming voice, whichever part of Nelson, Murdock, and Page you are.”

Matt's brows quickly shot up onto his forehead in surprise. No one had told him that before.

“I do?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back. “You know, if you ever need money, you'd be great at calling people and talking to them until they relax before they have to do something they're nervous about–like going to a job interview. Or maybe even attending events with them to keep them calm or something. You know what I’m saying?”

Matt couldn't resist the laugh that slipped out of his mouth, his head tilting to the side. “Is that an actual thing that exists? Because it almost sounds like you're just describing a male escort,” he pointed out.

“ No !” your harsh whisper came over the line, the embarrassment in it causing Matt to chuckle again. “Oh no, that's not–no I didn't mean it like that! I swear! Is that even legal in New York City? Though I suppose maybe you don't live here since this is a wrong number and all... But no! That’s not what I meant!”

Matt relaxed further back in his chair, finding that he'd been enjoying this unexpected conversation with you this morning far more than he could’ve thought. He truly didn't want to end the call even though he knew he would need to soon. Though he found himself wishing for an excuse to talk to you again already.

“I do live in New York City actually,” he answered. “And male escorts aren't supposed to be getting paid for their time in the way that you're currently thinking about, so yes, they are actually quite legal.”

“I imagine as a lawyer that owns your own law firm, though,” you began, “you don't exactly need a side hustle as a male escort. And that–that’s a joke, by the way,” you quickly clarified. “You know what? Just forget I said that, I'm just nervous for this interview. I'm rambling.”

“You are, but I'm enjoying it,” he told you. “But our law firm tends to take on lots of cases pro bono, so truthfully, I could probably use a side hustle. I'll keep your vote of confidence as a male escort in mind if I ever struggle to continue paying my bills.”

The bark of laughter followed by your soft curse under your breath had Matt’s cheeks hurting from how wide his smile had grown. 

“Despite how entertaining this call has been, I should really go,” you said. “I imagine they should be calling me back soon and I probably shouldn’t be sitting here looking like I’m having so much fun on the phone judging by the frown the secretary just gave me. I’ve never had one frown at me before and I’d really not like to mess up my chances here. I kind of really want this job so I can actually do something with my degree.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, but either way, I wish you luck,” Matt replied. “I should probably get back to work myself, but I’ll admit that you’ve been a pleasant distraction from a case I’ve been struggling with myself, so thank you.”

“Then I wish you luck as well, stranger,” you replied. “I hope you make some progress on your case.”

“I suppose if I don’t, there’s always other viable career options for me that I’ve recently had my eyes opened to,” Matt teased.

He enjoyed the sound of your laugh over the line one last time before you told him goodbye. Almost reluctantly Matt ended the call, lowering his phone down onto his desk. His smile faltered as he once more overheard the sound of Elliott’s fingers typing on his computer. With a defeated sigh he pushed his chair back, rising up to his feet and accepting the fact that he’d need to ask Elliott for help dialing Mr. Philips correctly.

“Matt, this is–” Foggy began but quickly stopped himself.

Matt sat back in his chair, a triumphant smile spread wide across his mouth as he continued to listen to both Karen and Foggy rifling through the documents he’d had printed out early this morning. The three of them were currently sitting in the conference room while Matt proudly sat back, enjoying the sound of the pair of them getting excited over what he’d discovered yesterday afternoon. Apparently taking a step away from the case for a little bit had been just the thing he needed to do to come back at it with a different angle.

“Dude, this is exactly what we needed for that Richmond case!” Foggy finally exclaimed, his head darting up towards Matt. “You’re brilliant!”

“Ahh, well,” Matt said with a smug smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Just doing my job, Fog.”

“This must have taken a lot of creative thinking,” Karen muttered, still flipping through the papers. “Hell, Matt, I think you just saved this whole case.”

Matt had been about to respond, tempted to make another cocky comment, but the sound of his phone receiving a text cut him off. Brows furrowing together slightly, he slipped his hand into his pants pocket and pulled his phone out. Holding it up to his ear and muttering out a command, he slid back his chair from the conference table before rising up to his feet and walking a few steps away from Foggy and Karen. 

He frowned slightly at the number the automated voice began to read off in his ear almost immediately. It wasn’t one he had recognized. Why would a strange number be texting him? Though when he heard that same automated voice begin to read out the text message he’d received, a small smile easily slipped onto his face.

“Just wanted to let you know that I was offered the job already this morning,” the automated voice read into Matt’s ear. “Apparently you’re my good luck charm, stranger. So thanks for the chat. Hope you made some progress on your case, too.”

For a moment Matt just stood there in shock, holding the phone to his ear and grinning like a fool. He hadn’t expected to ever hear from you again, and he certainly hadn't anticipated the burst of pride at your news. And apparently you’d also been his good luck charm because after he'd dealt with the real Edgar Philips, he finally made a break on the case that had stumped him for weeks. 

Without a second thought, Matt turned around to face both Karen and Foggy, lowering his phone to his side. “Hey, I’ve got to respond to this message,” he told them. “Do you mind if I handle this back in my office now?”

“No, no,” Foggy answered distractedly, the air shifting as he clearly waved Matt off. “Go do your thing, buddy. We've got plenty to focus on at the moment.”

Trying to fight back the growing smile on his mouth as he maneuvered his way back over towards where he'd been sitting, Matt picked up his cane that had been resting against the table. As he navigated his way out of the conference room and back to the privacy of his office, he already began thinking up a response to your message. And he also wondered how strange it would be if he called instead of texted you back.

[river-fisher]

Okay, so I was thinking of coming up with a "Fulbright is alive" AU of my own, and I ended up rambling about my ideas to a friend, so y'all get an edited down/tidied up version

Allow me to introduce to you.... the Investigator Fulbright AU! Yes, it is inspired by the lies of the phantom! As much as I love the Fulbright we meet in game before the reveal, I wanted to try out something different. I'm honestly surprised this isn't a thing yet (as far as I've seen) >>

Ramble under cut!

So, let me explain the timeline

During the ~dark age of the law~, Fulbright became disillusioned from the justice system. Justice is his main motivation - he wants to make the world become a better place, to help people. When the system shifted to actively work against that, with all the false arrests, evidence, convictions? I don't think Fulbright could take the injustice. He, as an enforcer of the system, would actively be complacent to all those things. So he resigned.

For a while, he shifts between jobs, none fulfilling his need for justice and field work. I think one day, he gets roped into a private investigation, which, when solved gives him the same rush he felt when he was a detective. He opens his own obscure investigation business. He didn't expect it to do as well as it did - the ~dark age of the law~ made common folk distrustful of the system, so if a person went missing or if someone needed closure from a case that was handled poorly in the courts, they came to him. He even got lucky enough to be able to pick his clients carefully, to weigh the morality of what he's doing - he'd rather skip a case and eat cheap food for a while than contribute to the already awful system.

Actually, being an investigator was almost better, in some cases, for Fulbright. The lack of regulation and restrictions allowed him to come to conclusions not solely based on evidence, but on other things as well, things that wouldn't be admissable in court (such as emotions, subtle nervous tics, etc). He spends a couple years like this, his business being decently successful.

One day, however, he gets this recurring client. Always anonymous, very careful about any information they share. Fulbright is cautious, of course. The client needed information on various people's schedules, habits, etc. It seemed decently innocuous though - none of the people he tailed faced any harm.

Yes, you guessed it! The client is the phantom. I mean, I can't make an AU and not include him, y'know? So yeah, the phantom is careful to pay in Fulbright's regular rates to avoid alarming the investigator. He hires Fulbright for a couple different reasons: having a different perspective on the people he's going to impersonate is very useful, it saves him a lot of time and effort, and it gives him more information on Fulbright - The person that is essential for his plan to get his psych profile back.

We know that the phantom was being taunted by Blackquill, and like... I don't think the phantom takes on long impersonation missions often. It's kinda a waste of resources imo, especially if he's doing it unemployed. So unless we reason that he was finding information from the police while impersonating Fulbright, I think it's more fun if we force him to collaborate with Fulbright! And that's precisely what I intend for this AU.

The phantom comes up with a plan to have Fulbright collaborate with him. I enjoy the headcanon that Fulbright doesn't have family around or like. super close friends, so hostages don't work. He isnt the type to give into money either. So, whats left? I might think of something different later, but for now, I'm thinking that the phantom could simply impersonate Fulbright while committing a crime. Get some evidence of it, and boom, blackmail!

Anyway, Fulbright is forced to join the force again. As an Investigator, he learned to manage his emotions better, but in the force, he tries to portray himself as though he hasn't changed much. He's a bit clumsy on cases now too, having become rusty with all the protocols and evidence based arrests.

He isn't entirely upset about the arrangement, despite the fact that its completely unjust. its nice being on the force again, being a detective again. He did miss it at times, since being a private investigator wasn't exactly lawful at times.

Moving along, when it's announced that Blackquill is going to be a prosecutor again and needs a trusted detective handler, Fulbright jumps at the opportunity. Of course, it's mostly because he has to, but having had some time to research Blackquill, the old UR-1 incident felt off. From the time as an investigator, he knew to trust his gut, even if he didn't have the evidence to prove anything.

He gets the job because 1) most people are scared of ~the twisted samurai~ and 2) because Fulbright has experience as a private investigator, aka, people trust him enough to come to him. Being trustworthy and dependable are very important qualities when handling a criminal, no?

Anyway, from here it could branch off in a couple different ways depending on your preferences (Blackquill and Fulbright's relationship wise.), so I'm not gonna ramble about that here.

Going timeline wise and ignoring all that for now, i think fulbright tries to find out more about the phantom. I mean, although he's being blackmailed, he's still aiding a criminal. No way would Fulbright take kindly to that.

I do think that most of what Fulbright is forced to do isn't a crime though. I think the phantom would be clever enough to not push him to his breaking point. Also, the phantom is a paranoid fuck and would not leave any important tasks to someone else. He'd rather just impersonate Fulbright for the few times he needs to.

Anyway, in the final cases, I think that the phantom would take over for the investigation parts, but wouldn't be the one to testify in turnabout for tomorrow, simply because he wouldn't risk his life like that. Everything turns out pretty similar with the phantom being revealed, the truth coming out about UR-1.

I think it'd be fun if Fulbright got shot anyway though, because the phantom got shot at the chance of him yapping about the organisations he works for. Well, Fulbright has evidence of the phantom existing, which is pretty threatening too.

But I also just want him to get shot so so bad HAHA

Anyway, yeah! That's what I have regarding the outline of this AU. I have some daydreams etc in my brain as well, but nothing concrete enough to express for now. I hope my silly little ramble was fun to read :)

[puffein]

UNMENDABLE THING | late spring [x.]

summary: wanda seeks out the only person who knows all the answers to her questions. pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff (platonic) warnings: angst word count: 2104 a/n: please enjoy!!

series masterlist playlist!

Westview, New Jersey

Early-February 2024

Natasha always knew her life would be a constant moving car on an endless highway to chaos. She planned it herself to have a life she's having now. To continue studying even just after receiving her bachelor's degree, well, that was a year ago but it's still as fresh as what her mind thought of. 

You have suggested her to take a year to rest, to start law school in the year 2024 but Natasha didn't want to waste more time. She wants to have the chaos she desires even if it will want her to pluck her hair out in the near future, but that is what she wanted. You have called her mental for starting researching schools for law a year before graduating and even called her a beast when she started studying for the admission test just a month after receiving a degree.

Everything is quiet right at this moment for Natasha. The only sounds emitting in her cozy apartment were the tunes of paper rustling and a low melodious classical music she had played in the background. Her eyes are downcasted in her desk, focused on a thick book that she had carried with ease. Everything is just in place for her. Quiet and peaceful.

So, when her front door was giving a frantic continuous loud banging of fist. She uttered a silent profanity in hopes for the noise to vanish but of course, the world is not a giving mother, it's a greedy one so she was left to fend off the banging of her front door. 

Pushing herself off the chair she's residing in, she shouts a gritted, "Wait a minute!" 

And when she thought chaos would start after her admission in her desired law school, she was wrong. Because standing in front of her, in her front door was the epitome of chaos. 

Wanda stood rigid in front of Natasha with her dishevelled auburn hair, green eyes imitating a sight of turmoil and confusion, hands fisted so tightly that Natasha made a mental note to check if it was bleeding. 

They stood looking at each other for a few seconds, when the stoic redhead finally spoke up, "What are you doing here, Wanda?" 

Natasha's voice was gentle like a calm weaving waters because she knew why Wanda is here. She had argued with you about this, about this exact event that will happen right before you fly away to Scotland but alas to her, you are one hell of a brickened being so, she was left to face Wanda with answers she had prepared. 

"Can I come in?" Natasha was shocked to hear the calmness of Wanda's voice, it contradicts her appearance. But Nat knew better, it was the calm before the brewing storm.

She opened her front door wider, inviting Wanda to a space she has never set foot before. When the two figures placed themselves comfortably in Natasha's living room, Wanda's travelling gaze set right at a picture frame of what she makes out an image of you and Natasha in graduation. It made the green-eyed woman taste bitterness in her mouth. 

"I'm sorry for intruding so suddenly, I know we have never been close before and I– uh want to thank you for coming to my wedding. The gift you and Y/N gave was something we needed." 

Wrong, that gift was everything Wanda hated. She hated that instead of a gift just from you, the small card glued onto the gift was written with 'from Y/N and Natasha'. 

Everything just seems to be you and Natasha, even in this little space of a place she never set foot in screams you and her. 

She saw little remnants of you in Natasha's place, like the small silver box that was always on top of your desk is now placed nicely on Natasha's shelves, the all too familiar vase you have decorated yourself sits rightfully in the redhead's coffee table, hell, even your favorite book is placed at her desk.  

She didn't want to get too worked up just by looking at things that is useless from the eyes of an outsider. But she was not an outsider, she knew how these little things mattered to you and it hurts for her to see it in the hands of another. 

"Y/N was the one who picked it so.." Natasha said cautiously, she waved her hand dismissively, "Would you like something to drink?" 

Wanda only smiles, shaking her head lightly, "No, it's fine. I'm not really here to have a drink with you." 

She should have worded it nicely but with the hard thrumming of her chest and the unanswered thoughts resurfacing in her troubled mind, she can't seem to be polite and civilized. 

Natasha sat back, her hands placed cooly at her lap, "What is it, Wanda?"

"Have you.. have you heard of Y/N?" she started, eyes focused on every little muscle of the redhead's strong features. "I just, well. We had a coffee back in December and um, it's been so long since she replied to me and when I called, it, it seemed to me that I was blocked."

Natasha nods, "Wanda, I didn't really know–"

"No. You can't possibly not know, Romanoff. You are her best friend." saying that made her flinch, like a pinch by the hands of a giant right at her chest.

"Look, Wanda. I don't want to come in between what is happening with you two. It's not my business." 

Wanda scoffs, her head whipping to the side as she tries so hard not to shed frustrated tears in front of the very woman she does not like. 

"I don't even know what is happening between me and Y/N. If you are clueless, what am I then? What word could you describe to someone more than being clueless?" she says exasperatedly, tone drawing out in between the lines of being desperate and being angry. But at the very back of her mind, she had a tiny clue of what was unfolding right in front of her eyes. She just wants to be shielded by the comforts of being blind and clueless in hopes of getting more answers.

"Because I don't know, Natasha. I don't know what is happening and it's making me angry that I have come from a place that knows every single detail of her life to nothing at all!" Wanda didn't mean to shout, she didn't mean to look like a crazed woman in front of a seemingly calmed redhead that stares at her with sympathy pooling in her eyes.

When silence ensues, Wanda knew she needed to be calm, to have her head in a space that would work perfectly. "Please, I just want answers that I know you could give." 

"She's in Scotland. She has been a week maybe after you and her met in the coffeehouse. I really don't know the exact date you and her met but she left in December." That was enough for Wanda to straighten her figure against the soft cushions of Natasha's couch. 

Why didn't you tell her?

Was her presence in your life not significant enough for you to tell her you have moved far away?

And without a warning, the self-doubt she had hidden, tucked away in the deepest corners of her soul, came crashing into her being like a canonball that has been shot for the sole purpose of crumbling a safely guarded boat in a harsh waters of the ocean.

"Did she tell you anything at all?" About me? Wanda wanted to say. Her voice was so quiet, the soft tunes of Natasha's music is more loud than the question she had just asked. 

Natasha moves her head in an answer that disappoints her, "I tried to tell her to talk to you properly, I really did, Wanda. But she doesn't want to, she said it's better for things to stay the way it is."

Wanda's strong facade crumbles down fast and rapidly. What did you mean to stay the way it is? What is that supposed to mean? Every answer she has heard just piqued her another question to be answered. And she's getting tired and confused, she thought Natasha would help her shed light on things that have stayed in the dark for too long but instead it just blew out the small illuminating candle in a space so pitch black.

"I-I'll be back, Natasha. I have to go. Thank you." with her weakened knees and the shaking of her hands, she stood tall and at the same time small as she postured herself to walk away. 

Natasha didn't let her go that fast as she rounded up the couch in a haste movement before Wanda could take a step outside. She grips the shaking arms of the green-eyed woman, "Y/N just needed time for herself. Please understand. You mattered to her, you should know that."

Wanda stares at her unmoving, the whipping of her cascading auburn hair was harsh and swift, "And still it was not enough for her to say goodbye?"

"Wanda–"

"No. Everything is just not enough when it comes to me." She gently yanks her arms out of Natasha's soft grips.

"If I mattered, she wouldn't be doing this. I know I have become such a shitty best friend for the past years and I know I have never apologized to her for my actions before graduation and just moved on in hopes for things to settle itself right as it is. But was that too big of a deal for her to just completely forget about me?" 

And there it is. The unspoken broken relationship you two had. She never spoke of it, in hopes that it will vanish and somewhat mend itself as time passes by. But she was clearly wrong. She had ignored things far too long that she knew in the back of her mind that this will never be fixed. It drove you away from her. 

It was in the year 2022, wasn't it? The year everything just fell apart, it was the year she started ignoring, giving you the cold shoulders, became a stranger. Just because she heard a half-finished conversation that hurted her ego and feelings far too deep. A conversation you didn't even know of because she just started doing actions after actions that resulted in a broken friendship. 

Darcy even told her to just say everything she had to say but of course, she had nothing to say and left things unsaid. 

It must've been so painful for you. 

Because pain is an understatement for what she's been feeling right now. Now, that you were the one to have left things unsaid. 

"I really don't know what happened between the two of you. But she was happy when you invited her to your wedding, I just knew she was elated that you somewhat did not forget about her after graduation." Natasha didn't know what she was saying, she shouldn't try so hard to mend things that has been left broken for so long. 

"Here. It's her address, she will kill me for this but the talk you two should have is long overdue, right?" Natasha pushes a small card into Wanda's hand, closing it tightly on the palms of an auburn haired woman.

She had to give you a push, right? Even if it's a push she shouldn't be doing.

Wanda glances away, her face contorts into an image of pain, "Thank you. This means a lot. But I– you wouldn't be saying that if you knew what happened." 

"Y/N kind of implied something about you leaving her hanging but she never told me the whole story. She always tries to shield you from my negative judgements, Wanda. I knew you did something wrong despite that," Natasha wipes her palms hardly on her thighs, "It just seemed the right words to say."

Wanda gave her a smile of appreciation and nods, "Thank you." And with that she started to let her feet lead her away.

Not without hearing the last words Natasha shouted, "Wanda, you should talk to her. Just say everything you had to say." 

She would laugh right now if she can because the words are just the same of what she had heard before. 

The world is a weird place to be living in, isn't it? 

Because she should have listened to that words a year ago when everything was fresh, not now, when everything seems to be in a place so hard to be fixed with.

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby @vivs46 @kyaraderuwez

[dragoneyes618]

Suddenly, everywhere you look, the Jews are disappearing.

You feel it like a slow moving pressure system, an anxiety of exclusion and downward mobility. Maybe you first noticed it at your workplace. Or maybe it hit when you or your children applied to college or graduate school. It could have been something as simple as opening up the Netflix splash page. It’s gauche to count but you can’t help yourself: In academia, Hollywood, Washington, even in New York City—anywhere American Jews once made their mark—our influence is in steep decline.

For many Jews, the first instinct is to look inward: We blame intermarriage, assimilation, the loss of the immigrant work ethic. This is, of course, a cope. Because the most significant cause of the decline isn’t Jews themselves, but that American liberalism, our civic religion, has turned on us. Where Jewish success was once upheld as a sign of America’s strength and progress over its prejudices, Jewish “overrepresentation” is again something to be solved, not celebrated.

A tenure-track humanities professor at a prestigious public university tells of the finalists for her department’s next graduate school cohort. Of the 20 or so candidates, four to five are Jews. One is a working-class yeshivish applicant with an incredible backstory and even better recommendations. He is passed over for not being “diverse” enough. Of course our professor doesn’t complain— her own tenure is at risk. In the end, not a single Jew is offered admission.

Another Jewish professor applies to work in the UC system. In his mandatory diversity statement, which he describes as “the most shameful piece of writing I’ve ever done,” his sole aim is to convey the impression that he hopes to be the last Jewish man they ever hire. He still doesn’t get the job.

And why would he? Using YouGov data, Eric Kaufmann finds that just 4% of elite American academics under 30 are Jewish (compared to 21% of boomers). The steep decline of Jewish editors at the Harvard Law Review (down roughly 50% in less than 10 years) could be the subject of its own law review article.

The same pattern holds across America’s elite institutions: a slow-moving downward trend from the 1990s to the mid-2010s—likely due to all sorts of normal sociological factors—and then a purge so sweeping and dramatic you almost wonder who sent out the secret memo.

Museum boards now diversify by getting Jews to resign. A well-respected Jewish curator at the Guggenheim is purged after she puts on a Basquiat show. At the Art Institute of Chicago, even the nice Jewish lady volunteers are terminated for having the wrong ethnic background. There’s an entire cottage industry of summer programs and fellowships and postdocs that are now off-limits to Jews.

In 2014 there were 16-20 Jewish artists featured at the Whitney Biennial. After a very public campaign against a Jewish board member with ties to the Israeli defense establishment, the curators got the message. The 2022 biennial featured just 1-2 Jews.

From 2010 through 2019 there were at least three Jews in every MacArthur Fellowship class, sometimes as many as five or six. The Forward would write effusive columns celebrating the year’s Jewish geniuses. Since 2020, just 0-1 Jews a year have been awarded grants. The Forward hasn’t bothered to take note.

Today American Jews watch with Solomonic bemusement as Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard is argued before the Supreme Court. On some level we sympathize with the Asian American plaintiffs, who are suing Harvard for using admissions criteria that discriminate against them on the basis of their race. Maybe they really are the new Jews, facing the same barriers—insidious racism, personality scores, rural geographic preferences—that we once did.

On the other hand, fancying ourselves to be high caste members of a beneficent elite, we pretend not to notice that “diversity, equity, and inclusion” is a cudgel used to exclude certain groups of Americans, including Asians and Jews. Desperate to maintain their waning status within the liberal coalition, Jewish communal organizations ignore these contradictions. Once a protector of specifically Jewish interests but now secure in its new role as handmaiden to power, the Anti-Defamation League filed an amicus brief—in support of Harvard.

In the 1940s, the ADL took a different tack. For decades unofficial quotas at most Ivy League universities limited Jews to around 10% of the student body, despite evermore qualified Jewish applicants. Jewish organizations made it their mission to break this invisible barrier and by the end of the 1950s the quotas were a dead letter. The long summer of American Jewish success had begun.

But the seasons always change. A FIRE/Yougov survey found that self-identified Jews now number just 7% of Ivy League students, compared to 10% during the height of the antisemitic quotas.

In his gripping podcast Gatecrashers, about the history of Jews in the Ivy League, Mark Oppenheimer describes the troubled state of Jewish campus life. Harvard has gone from being 25% Jewish in the 1990s and 2000s to under 10% today. “In theory it could be the case that Jews are the same percentage of whites at Harvard as they always were,” he explains. “But Harvard has not shrunk the number of athletes it admits […] and they’ve kept their geographical diversity. So if you’re a Jewish kid who’s not an athlete and not a legacy and not from Wyoming … then there’s not much room left for you.”

According to the Hillel College Guide, Penn’s Jewish population declined from 26% in 2015 to 17% in 2021; NYU’s dropped from 24% to 13%. Princeton, Columbia, and Cornell have seen smaller but significant declines (Brown and Dartmouth, with different institutional priorities, are by all accounts happy exceptions).

Data from the Yale Chaplain’s Office—which appears to be the only Ivy League university that still tracks religious affiliation—shows a similar trend: The Jewish population went from 19.9% in the 2000s to 16.4% in the 2010s. A couple of years ago, the school’s chaplain told Meir Chaim Posner, the Chabad rabbi at Yale, that around 11% of Yale undergraduates were Jewish. “It’s dropped slightly since then,” Rabbi Posner told me in November.

“The university has decided that DEI is the overarching principle of admissions,” one Hillel director told me. “There’s a general consensus that it’s more difficult for Jewish students to get into top tier schools.” Nor is this difficulty confined to secular Jews—the modern Orthodox population has also crashed. A college counselor at a top Jewish day school reports that as universities have revamped enrollment and gone test-optional, the number of Orthodox students has decreased. “Every year has been harder,” he said. “Our ability to thoughtfully predict the likelihood of admission has gone way down.”

An uneasy omertà settles in. The Ivies skip college nights at Jewish day schools they visited for decades. At Penn there used to be two daily minyans—now there’s one. There are hushed whispers that if current trends hold, some of these colleges might no longer be able to support an Orthodox community at all.

The 1999 Hillel College Guide now reads like a map to a lost civilization. Harvard and Yale have 1,500 Jewish undergrads apiece. There are 5,000 Jewish students and grad students at Columbia, 6,000 at Penn, 14,000 at NYU. It’s hard to imagine that as recently as 2008, articles were being written about the “race” to attract Jewish students.

What was normal less than two decades ago sounds like a siren call from a distant golden age. To even suggest that a 15%-20% Jewish undergraduate student body might be acceptable in a country in which Jews make up 2.4% of the total population is anathema in today’s liberal society.

The 1999 Hillel College Guide now reads like a map to a lost civilization.

In New York—the seat of American Jewish political power—there are almost no Jews left in power. A decade ago the city had five Jewish congressmen, a Jewish mayor, two Jewish borough presidents, and 14 Jewish City Council members. Today just two congressmen and a single borough president remain. Only six Jews now sit on the 51-person City Council. Shelly Silver, the corrupt Orthodox former State Assembly leader, was replaced by Yuh-Line Niou, a pro-BDS “progressive” whose oligarch father was featured in the Panama Papers. Not even the Lower East Side Tenement Museum is recognizably Jewish anymore.

“What you have is a lack of identity of Jews as Jews,” the Democratic political consultant Hank Sheinkopf told The Washington Post. “And they don’t have the power to ensure that there’s more than one Jewish congressman. It’s astounding.”

Younger Jews are being excluded from the liberal organizations their parents and grandparents helped create. Identitarian meltdowns roil the progressive world. The Women’s March, the ACLU, and the SPLC all get rid of Jewish leadership. There will be no more “Mighty Iras” in our lifetime. Not even the Jewish president of the Audubon Society is safe.

There are still powerful Jews in Washington—neo-Nazis on Twitter like to post photos of Biden’s cabinet—but the influence is waning. Is it a coincidence that in the U.S. Senate (a handsy group of old men if ever there was one) the only senator forced to resign during the #MeToo panic happened to be Jewish? Or that activists pushed for Dianne Feinstein’s resignation for the explicit reason that she be replaced by someone who isn’t Jewish?

Of the 114 federal judges appointed by Joe Biden (as of this writing), just 8-9 appear to be Jewish—in a field that’s historically been at least 20% Jewish. Liberals worship Ruth Bader Ginsburg as a magical Jewish Teletubby, but they wouldn’t dare nominate another “white woman” to the highest court anytime soon. We are back to the single Jewish seat on the court.

Apparently Jews have so much power and influence that the highest-ranking Jewish senator in history finds it too politically difficult to hire a 22-year-old version of himself. There were at least 15 Jews on Chuck Schumer’s staff of 64 in 2014. After facing pressure for not being diverse enough, and despite an enlarged staff of 89, he can no longer make a minyan.

In Los Angeles—America’s second most Jewish city—there are now just two Jewish City Council members, down from six in 2000. In last year’s infamous dustup, Nury Martinez, the sharp-tongued council president, had despicable things to say about Black people, Oaxacans, even Armenians—but Jews were barely a footnote. “Judíos cut their deal with South LA,” she said. “They are gonna screw everybody else.”

It’s gauche to count but you can’t help yourself: In academia, Hollywood, Washington, even in New York City—anywhere American Jews once made their mark—our influence is in steep decline.

Speaking of LA, a decade ago there were 22 Jews on The Hollywood Reporter’s annual list of the Top 50 Showrunners. In 2022, that’s down to 13. Other than the half-Jewish (and already famous) Maggie Gyllenhaal, you’d have to go back six years to find a single Jew on Variety’s annual list of 10 Directors to Watch.

Thanks to the odious new Hollywood house style that requires a detailed ethnic and racial classification at the top of all capsule biographies, we can see just how many self-identified Jews are in the Sundance writers and directors labs, or the NBC, Paramount, and Disney writers and apprenticeship programs—it is zero. It seems not being Jewish is actually a primary qualification. So much for Jewish control of Hollywood.

The decline is so rapid—and the golden age so close to living memory—it’s a running joke. On the latest season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David meets with a group of younger non-Jewish studio executives to convince them to cast a Mexican American girl as Young Larry’s Jewish love interest. On Reboot, Steve Levitan’s Hulu show, an old guard of Jewish sitcom writers clash uncomfortably with their younger and woker—and noticeably non-Jewish—colleagues.

Not even Hollywood’s Jewish history belongs to Jews anymore. The new Academy Museum, dedicated to “radical inclusivity” and paid for with Haim Saban’s Jewish money, couldn’t bring itself to include Hollywood’s Jewish founders. In Babylon, Damian Chazelle’s epic flop about Hollywood’s golden age, the director follows an ahistorical Mexican studio executive and an Asian American lesbian rather than any of the very real Jewish moguls or screenwriters or directors of the era. What’s telling isn’t that Chazelle ignored Jews (anyone can do that) but that not a single reviewer bothered to notice this “erasure.” The culture has moved on.

What remains of Jewish Hollywood lives on borrowed time. Spielberg can make his Fabelmans, James Gray his Armageddon Time, but only because these are nostalgia pieces. Soon there will be no more RBG’s, no more Spielbergs, just a few off-brand Seinfelds doing a heritage act. There will certainly never be another Larry King or Andy Borowitz, Jews of such astounding mediocrity you wonder what was in the water.

In the 1950s, after Stalin’s death, after the purges, the Politburo turned to another pressing issue: the overrepresentation of Jews in Soviet life. Proportional representation (3% Tajik! 2% Uzbek! 12% Ukrainian!) became official policy, and the next decade saw the quick erosion of the Jewish nomenklatura. Soviet Jews—who had disproportionately contributed to and benefited from the building of the communist state—had outlived their usefulness.

A 1964 New York Times article explained that because Soviet republics assigned a certain number of students “preferential admission” based on their nationalities, other nationalities—aka Jews—were excluded. “A higher percentage of Jewish students was permitted to attend universities in Czarist Russia than is enrolled in the USSR today,” an outraged American Jewish Congress declared. “The 8.2% of university graduates who are Jews contrasts sharply with the present Jewish university enrollment of 3.22%.”

As true believers in the postwar liberal project, American Jews spent decades advocating for tolerance and equality of opportunity, not least because we were the prime beneficiaries. The ADL didn’t fight the quotas in the 1950s so Jews could matriculate in proportion to their percentage of the population. But there’s a tension between meritocracy and representation. The new DEI regime treats any disparity between groups as evidence of unfair advantage—and yet we’re supposed to think it’s a coincidence that Jewish representation plummets at the exact moment America frantically pushes to racially rebalance all high-status industries.

Because what is framed as a backlash against America’s “white” centers of power is in many cases a clever sleight of hand. Jews are being disproportionately purged from liberal institutions because Jews disproportionately exist within those institutions.

When activists and journalists and executives talk about how Broadway or NPR or publishing is “too white,” what they really mean is “too Jewish.” When The New York Times says it wants to make its internal demographics look more like New York City’s (excepting the Hasidim, of course), what this means is “fewer Jews.” Twenty years ago, if Pat Robertson spoke along these lines—making the same complaints about the same people and industries and institutions—there would have been a rush to condemn it as antisemitic. Today it passes for social justice.

In the 1960s and ’70s, facing hard barriers to their professional advancement, Soviet Jews lost the faith. The children and the grandchildren of the revolution tried to emigrate. When the authorities wouldn’t let them, American Jews rallied to their cause, created brand-new communal organizations, petitioned Congress, rallied thousands-strong outside the United Nations. Ours was a community confident in its power and confident in its future.

Asian Americans have the dignity of looking at admissions practices and demanding fair representation. The Jews, as ever, are a people apart. From civil rights to Vietnam to the spectacular bounty of their cultural and political achievements, liberal Jewish boomers always managed to be on the right side of history. It is a supreme irony that they’ve helped empower a movement that now places their children and grandchildren on the wrong side.

If Putin or Orban reduced their universities’ Jewish populations by 50%, the ADL would be howling. But Harvard and Yale can magically lose nearly half their Jewish students in less than a decade and we’ll take it on the chin. That this is occurring with the full acquiescence of a terrified liberal Jewish establishment should tell you just how much power Jews in America still have.

[mxjackparker]

Just realized I hadn't posted about this here, so I'm sharing it in case this is relevant for any mental health professionals on Tumblr.

On November 8th, I'm running a 3-hour training session on sex workers' complex counselling needs. It will cover:

What issues you can expect service users to bring up, that are related to sex work.

Sex workers' dignity of risk.

The law around sex work and earnings made from it.

Background knowledge about sex work and its impacts.

Safeguarding sex workers and spotting abuse.

How to make your practice accessible to sex workers, including how to build trust with the community.

Resources which can be offered to sex worker service users.

Advertising your practice to sex workers.

As so many mental health professions respond poorly to their clients' admissions of engaging in sex work, sex workers will often avoid therapy because of bad experiences. The purpose of this training is to improve the quality of the counselling that sex workers receive by ensuring that they do not have to educate their own therapists.

Half of the spaces are taken up already, but you can get a remaining ticket to the training on OutSavvy here.

The training course is geared towards those who are currently practicing as therapists or counsellors or psychologists, but will also be useful to those who are currently in education and have get to open their own practice.

[communist-manifesto-daily]

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 12

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In England, the bourgeoisie never held undivided sway. Even the victory of 1832 left the landed aristocracy in almost exclusive possession of all the leading Government offices. The meekness with which the middle-class submitted to this remained inconceivable to me until the great Liberal manufacturer, Mr. W. A. Forster, in a public speech, implored the young men of Bradford to learn French, as a means to get on in the world, and quoted from his own experience how sheepish he looked when, as a Cabinet Minister, he had to move in society where French was, at least, as necessary as English! 

The fact was, the English middle-class of that time were, as a rule, quite uneducated upstarts, and could not help leaving to the aristocracy those superior Government places where other qualifications were required than mere insular narrowness and insular conceit, seasoned by business sharpness. [2] Even now the endless newspaper debates about middle-class education show that the English middle-class does not yet consider itself good enough for the best education, and looks to something more modest. Thus, even after the repeal of the Corn Laws, it appeared a matter of course that the men who had carried the day – the Cobdens, Brights, Forsters, etc. – should remain excluded from a share in the official government of the country, until 20 years afterwards a new Reform Act opened to them the door of the Cabinet. The English bourgeoisie are, up to the present day, so deeply penetrated by a sense of their social inferiority that they keep up, at their own expense and that of the nation, an ornamental caste of drones to represent the nation worthily at all State functions; and they consider themselves highly honored whenever one of themselves is found worthy of admission into this select and privileged body, manufactured, after all, by themselves.

[2] And even in business matters, the conceit of national Chauvinism is but a sorry adviser. Up to quite recently, the average English manufacturer considered it derogatory for an Englishman to speak any language but his own, and felt rather proud than otherwise of the fact that "poor devils" of foreigners settled in England and took off his hands the trouble of disposing of his products abroad. He never noticed that these foreigners, mostly Germans, thus got command of a very large part of British foreign trade, imports and exports, and that the direct foreign trade of Englishmen became limited, almost entirely, to the colonies, China, the United States, and South America. Nor did he notice that these Germans traded with other Germans abroad, who gradually organized a complete network of commercial colonies all over the world. But, when Germany, about 40 years ago [c.1850], seriously began manufacturing for export, this network served her admirably in her transformation, in so short a time, from a corn-exporting into a first-rate manufacturing country. Then, about 10 years ago, the British manufacturer got frightened, and asked his ambassadors and consuls how it was that he could no longer keep his customers together. The unanimous answer was:

You don't learn customer's language but expect him to speak your own;

You don't even try to suit your customer's wants, habits, and tastes, but expect him to conform to your English ones.

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[oraclecat]

Some Thoughts to Get You Through Inauguration Day — and the Next Four Years

I want to share this post from one of my favorite writers, Connie Willis, that I found incredibly helpful today. I needed it. I hope it helps someone else like it did me.

January 20, 2025

By Connie Willis

I know I promised no news today, just inspirational stuff to get us through the inauguration, but there were two pieces of good news, two good things that Biden did just before he left office, that I thought I should share:

--The first three hostages were released in the Gaza ceasefire deal that Biden engineered. They are all young women and seem to be in good health. They were smiling, and their families were overjoyed at their release, but of course they’ve been through hell, and their recoveries will take a very long time. Still, Biden got them out, with the promise of more to come.

--Biden pre-emptively pardoned a number of people Trump and Kash Patel have announced their intention of going after: Dr. Fauci, General Mark Milley, the members of the January 6 Committee (including Liz Cheney, Trump’s number one target) and all their staffers, plus the police officers who testified before the January 6th committee.

--Biden said of the pardons: "The issuance of these pardons should not be mistaken as an acknowledgement that any individual engaged in any wrongdoing, nor should acceptance be misconstrued as an admission of guilt for any offense. Our nation owes these public servants a debt of gratitude for their tireless commitment to our country."

--Here’s Dr. Fauci’s response, which I think is pitch perfect: "Let me be perfectly clear: I have committed no crime, and there are no possible grounds for any allegation or threat of criminal investigation or prosecution of me. The fact is, however, that the mere articulation of these baseless threats and the potential that they will be acted upon, creat immeasurable and intolerable distress for me and my family. For these reasons, I acknowledge and appreciate the action that President Biden has taken today on my behalf."

--The sputtering fury from MAGAs and Republican Congressmen and Senators, screaming that they’ll go after them in state courts and open new investigations into their actions, shows that these pardons were completely necessary. Thank God Biden did it. And that he did it at the very last minute so that Trump didn’t have the chance to forestall the pardons.

Oh, and in an absolutely hilarious bit of good news, you know Mike Johnson ordered that all the flags at the Capitol and the White House be raised to half-staff for Trump’s inauguration, even though it broke the law. Well, this morning when they tried to raise them, the cords had all frozen to the staffs and they couldn’t get them unstuck to raise the flags. (Suggestion: You could try licking the flagpoles with your tongue.)

Okay, here are some quotes to get you through the day. And the next four years. (Note: You might copy the ones you like the best and stick them on your bathroom mirror or your refrigerator as a reminder when the going gets rough.)

--pelagicray: "We are all going to have to embrace the chaos, ride it out. That "ride it out" is something the sea taught me. Before actually being out there I simply raged at chaos. I still have that rage, but it is tempered by that ‘ride it out’ attitude one has to have with long times at sea. Caught in a storm one cannot avoid, and that is nearly impossible if one spends much time out there, and about which one can do not a thing, teaches the ‘ride it out’ way. In my case we were not even ‘crew’ who had real work to do keeping the ship riding it out. We did what of our work we coud do in conditions that made it near impossible, but sometimes even that was not possible. We became total passengers. And some storms are scary, even for the experienced. One has to learn self control when the rolls are beginning to test the limits of the ship’s righting moment, knowing that any next wave could be the one to tip the balance, hearing things break loose that should not have broken loose and sometimes themselves endangering the ship. That is when the crew may endanger limb and even life controlling that problem. But one learns to go with the rolls, ride it all out, trust in survival, or, as some I knew did, break down and react to everythinng. And tht itself risks survival. We are all going to be riding a lot of bad stuff out. We will ride it out--or not."

--rugbymom: "You also learn, I gather, to always keep that safety line clipped on. And that survival requires teamwork and taking care of each other. That’s what I hold onto. Whatever happens, we have to take care of each other, our neighbors, our friends, our family members, our community. Don’t let anyone be stuck in the storm alone."

--lpeacock: "I have no illusions as to how fucked up things are going to be. I’m just glad and thankful that we have so many good people in the fight to try to combat the fascism..."

--Steve Schmidt: "Everything Donald Trump has ever done has been chaotic, shambolic, and, in the end, a failure. All of it."

--Howard Zinn: "To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will detemine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capability to do something."

--Douglas Wood: "I...know that in the midst of constant, hourly assaults by bad news and worse news, of awful people doing awful things, and all of it rolling over us faster than we can understand or process it...I know that there is this. Always this. The wild, unnamable beauty of the natural world. Of the same shining moon that the Buddha and Jesus and Lao Tse and Shakespeare and Da Vinci and Galileo knew. Of winter trees standing like ladders to the stars. Of the impenetrable silence of the universe. Of humble feet standing on a tiny plot of ground while eyes gaze upward into the mysterious All of which we are a part. And suddenly one realizes the simple, saving truth...that the News is not the world."

--J.R.R. Tolkien, on Sam in the depths of Mordor: "Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for awhile. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach."

Today is also Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and that’s sort of fitting because he above any other American knew what it was like to live under a cruel and unjust system for generations and still not give up--or become embittered and cynical and just as hateful as the other side. So here are some MLK, Jr. quotes:

--"If you can’t fly, then run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl--but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward."

--"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of convenience and comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."

--"We will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope."

--"We must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious faith in the future."

--"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."

And finally, from Hakeem Jeffries: "Success is not final. Failure is not fatal. All that matters is the courage to continue."

Think of this as Dunkirk. It’s a bad day, and there are many worse to come. But it’s not over.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 14

Master list for Lightning Bug 

Warning: nightmare, mention of a nightmare, mention of abuse, 

Word count: 3.8k

The group beside Kamala groaned. “What? We have a new person in the group. It’s the perfect game to play.” She looked at you to back her up but your eyes went wide. 

“Don’t bring me into this,” you said. It was Kamala’s turn to groan. “Feel free to play whatever I’ll watch the first few rounds.” Peter sighed. 

“Fine but whatever happens here stays here,” the group agreed and the game began. Kamala went first. She got America to yell the first word that came to her mind which happened to be fuck. America asked Peter and he picked dare which led him to give Ned a lap dance for 30 seconds. That made you laugh. Peter asked MJ if she ever broke a law and she said yes. MJ got Kate to seductively eat a banana. Then Kate made Kamala eat a spoonful of mustard. Finally, Kamala asked Yelena what was the strangest thing she’s eaten. It was a kangaroo. As the game went on, the truths got deeper and the dares got weirder. You laughed along with your friends. Friends. You had a group of friends that made you laugh and smile and felt safe. 

“Can I play?” You finally asked. 

“Of course,” Ned said. “Truth or dare?” You weren’t ready for dare questions. 

“Truth,” you said. 

“How do you feel about the Twilight saga?” You giggled. 

“They are a guilty pleasure read,” you told him. You didn’t hate them but they weren’t your favorite. “But they aren’t great. America, truth or dare.” 

“Truth,” the game continued. You stuck to the truth option. Kate asked what your favorite animal was which you said was a dog. MJ asked if you could travel anywhere in the world where you would go, and you picked Japan. It was Kamala’s turn to pick who to ask. 

“So Y/n,” Kamala said. “Trust or dare?” 

“Truth,” you said without hesitation. You watched her ponder her question, head moving side to side. 

“I overheard Natasha talking to Carol that you are like me,” she pointed to America. “Like her. So what can you do?” The question made your heart skip. It was such a simple question but with an answer that scared you. 

“You do not have to answer that,” America said, quickly. 

“Yeah, she can ask you a different question,” Kate added. You looked at Kamala, the girl looked confused by what was going on. She didn’t know that it was a touchy subject, how could she?

“No, it’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “It’s cool,” you rubbed your hands together, clearing your throat. “I can manipulate electricity,” you said. “I can create it, control it, and be a conductor for it.” The group was silent as they looked at you. You hated being the center of attention. 

“Woah!” Ned finally said. “That is so cool!”

“You're like a mini Thor!” Kamala said. You blushed, rubbing the back of your head. 

“Uh yeah, I guess,” you shrugged. 

“And you were born with that ability?” Peter asked. You nodded. 

“I’ve been dealing with it all my life,” you said. You looked at MJ, wanting the conversation to be directed away from you. “Truth or dare?” You asked her. 

*

You lay on your back with your hands behind your head. “Knock, knock,” you looked up and saw Yelena standing in your doorway. You must have forgotten to close your door. You sat up, leaning on your forearms. “Can I come in?” You nodded as she sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m proud of you,” you didn’t mask the confusion on your face. “You didn’t have to share that but you did,” you placed your chin on your knee. “What is going through your head?” You sighed. 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “My thoughts are all jumbled.” You closed your eyes. “I wish I was normal.” It was quiet in your room at your admission. You questioned if Yelena was still here but you heard her move on your bed. 

“If you were normal then you wouldn’t be you,” you opened your eyes and Yelena was looking at you with a smile. “I don’t know why you hate your powers and I don’t need to know but it’s a part of you and I think you are pretty great.” You smiled. 

“You're pretty great too.” The Black Widow stood up. 

“I’ll leave you alone. But if you need anything, come find me, okay?” You nodded. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, closing your door. You sighed, climbing underneath the covers. You played with the crochet blanket, you’ve yet to put it back in the closet. It was a gentle reminder that you were home. 

*

“How is she?” Kate asked when Yelena walked into the kitchen. The archer was making two cups of hot chocolate. “Whip Cream?”  

“Yes please,” Kate put some on top of her mug and handed it to the Black Widow. “She’s okay,” she took a sip of her drink. It was one of her guilty pleasures from being free from the Red Room. She loved sweets which worked out as Kate was more into savory treats. “Well, I think she is,” Yelena wrapped her hand around Kate’s. “Should we tell Natasha and Wanda?” The question was burning in the back of her throat. Kate was looking at their connected hands, moving her thumb back and forth. 

“We all agreed that whatever was said in that game stays within the group,” Yelena sighed. 

“That was said because Peter Parker doesn’t want Stark to know he gave Ned a lap dance,” Kate laughed. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound. Yelena smiled. She loved the sound of her laugh. It made her feel warm and safe. “Not about something like this,” she said once her girlfriend’s laughter died down. Kate sighed. 

“Look, she told us that because she trusts us. I’m not saying she doesn’t trust Nat and Wanda but she could be more comfortable with us,” she knew her girlfriend was right. It would be a breach of trust. “Besides, it doesn’t change who she is.” She was right again. Yelena took a sip of her hot chocolate. She didn’t miss the smirk that Kate tried to hide on her face. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s nothing. It’s just-” Kate stopped herself. “I’ll get it.” Yelena watched as her girlfriend rounded the island and stood in front of her. The archer captured her lips in a soft kiss. Her hands found a place on Kate’s lips. “You had whip cream on your lips.” Yelena rolled her eyes. But her heart melted. 

“You are such a dork, Kate Bishop,” the younger girl giggled and played with the baby hairs on the base of Yelena’s neck. 

“Yeah but I’m your dork.” Before Yelena could respond, she heard a door slam close and a frantic blue-eyed girl came rushing out. 

“Y/n,” Yelena said. But the girl made no indication that she heard her. 

*` 

You heard your name but it felt like your ears were stuffed with cotton balls. “Hey, bud,” your nightmare-induced brain focused on that. You shook your head and saw Kate in front of you. “Are you with us?” You looked around and saw Yelena in the kitchen with a worried look on her face. 

“Yeah,” your voice shook. “I’m here.” 

“A nightmare?” Yelena questioned. You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Your throat was burning as you fought to hold back your tears. “Kate and I were about to watch a movie. Do you want to join us?” You nodded, wordlessly following them to the couch. You sat as far away from them as possible. Your entire body was tense. You were afraid, the nightmare coursing through your veins. You had no idea what movie they put on. The nightmare was right in the subconscious. You could still feel it. You could hear your father yelling at you, the way his hands were on you. The disgusted look on your mother’s face and the fear in your brother’s eyes. You were only 4 years old when you discovered what you could do and you thought your father was going to kill you. You felt the couch move and it snapped out of the fog and watched Yelena stand up. 

“Where are you going?” You asked, desperation seeping from your voice. The Black Widow stopped. 

“I’m just going to get you and us a blanket.” You nodded. 

“Can you grab the red and black one from my room?” You asked. “Please.” You added quickly. Yelena nodded with a smile and you focused back on the movie. It was animated but you weren’t sure what the plot was you felt Kate watching you. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, not looking at the archer. 

“I’m dating Yelena. I know when someone doesn’t want to talk about a nightmare,” she teased but a smile didn’t form on your face. You heard Yelena come back and you took the blanket from her, wrapping it tightly around you. You felt a little better. “Come here,” you looked at Kate. She had a blanket over her, covering most of her skin. 

“W-What?” You stuttered. 

“You don’t like skin-to-skin contact and this blanket is covering me so you can cuddle up to me,” you stared at the couple. 

“Cuddle?” You questioned. “I don’t-”

“If you don’t want to then that’s fine,” Yelena assured. “But it sometimes helps me.” Oh. 

“I’ve never cuddled with someone,” you said. “I don’t know how.” Kate smiled. 

“It’s okay. I got you. Just rest your head on my stomach and or chest.” You nodded and stiffly moved towards Kate. You looked at Yelena for confirmation it was okay and she nodded. You rested your head on Kate’s stomach and stretched your legs out on the couch. Even though the blanket, you could feel the warmth she radiated and the slow in and out of her breaths. 

“Relax,” Yelena said, standing up and fixing the blanket that was on top of you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, letting a few tears fall. Yelena knelt so she was face to face with her. Her green eyes stared into your blue. 

“You won’t, okay? You're safe here and we got you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered. Eyes focusing on the movie. It didn’t take long for the calm feeling of Kate breathing to lure you to sleep. 

*

Natasha rested her head on the cool metal of the elevator. It did little to relieve the pounding. “I told you to not take that last shot,” she spared a glance at her girlfriend, who had a smirk on her face. 

“Shut up,” the Black Widow mumbled. Was it stupid to play a drinking game with Thor, Carol, and Bucky using Asgardian Ale? Yes. But it was so rare that Thor and Carol were at the tower she wanted to enjoy it and helped her forget the last couple of days. The elevator opened. “You just-” the scene in front of her caused her to freeze. Yelena was staring at her, finger to her lip - telling her to be quiet. Kate was leaning heavily on Yelena fast asleep and on Kate was Y/n, resting her head on Kate’s stomach and asleep. The volume of the movie was lowered and Yelena must have put subtitles on. 

“She had a nightmare,” Yelena whispered, not wanting to wake up the other two but Kate did stir and open her eyes. 

“Do you want us to take her to her room?” Wanda asked. 

“You can try,” Kate said, her voice laced with sleep. “I am kind of comfy.” Natasha wasn’t sure if she was being 100% truthful. Wanda knelt at the young girl’s level. 

“Dorogoy,” she whispered. ���Wake up.” The teen stirred but didn’t open her eyes and hugged the blanket closer to her. It was a blanket that Wanda made for Natasha. She only took it out for movie nights or when Wanda was away on a mission. 

“Come on, sleepy head. Wake up.” The teen groaned, opening her eyes. She blinked a few times. 

“Is it morning already?” She asked. 

“No,” Natasha chuckled. “But why don’t we move to your room so Kate can get some sleep too?” She looked up at the archer, groaned, and burrowed her head back into Kate’s stomach. 

“Don’t wanna,” she mumbled. Kate giggled. 

“We’ll cuddle again,” the archer said. She sighed, sitting up. 

“Promise?” She asked. Her voice was so soft and small. She sounded like a little kid. 

“Yeah, promise.” She relaxed at the promise Kate made. 

“Good night,” she said. “And thank you.” She headed towards the room. 

“Do you know what her nightmare was about?” Natasha asked. They shook their heads. 

“It scared her, whatever it was though,” Yelena said. Natasha nodded. 

“Thank you,” Wanda smiled. “For being there for her.” 

“Of course,” Kate rearranged her position so her head was in Yelena’s lap. “She’s like a little sister to me.” Natasha smiled. 

“Good night,” she said. A chorus of goodnights from Yelena and Kate followed her as she walked to Y/n’s room. She found the teen sitting crisscrossed on her bed, picking at the blanket. “Hey,” she didn’t look up even when Natasha sat on the corner of her bed. “Do you want us to stay?” She heard Wanda walk behind her. The witch wrapped her arms around Natasha and rested her head on her shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just want the nightmares to stop.” Wanda sat down next to her. 

“Do you want me to help?” The teen looked at the witch. 

“How?” 

“Well,” Wanda crossed her legs. “I can go into your mind with my powers and I’ll subdue the memories and quiet your mind.” The girl’s shoulders tensed up. 

“Will you see what’s going on in my head?” She asked softly. Wanda shook her head. 

“Nope, unless you want me to,” Y/n shook her head which caused Wanda to giggle. “Do you want me to help?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Alright, get comfy,” the teen climbed underneath the covers and Natasha lay the crochet blanket over her. “Close your eyes and relax.” She did what she was told but her shoulders were tense. 

“Relax, milyy (sweetie),” the Black Widow said, rubbing her chest. “You're safe here.” The teen nodded. 

“I know,” she closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. Natasha watched Wanda’s fingers glow red. Her powers always amazed her. She didn’t touch the girl’s temples but her red magic floated across her forehead. Wanda’s eyes flashed red and the young girl’s body slumped deeper into her bed. Natasha looked at her girlfriend, who was frowning. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she sighed. “It’s just she’s so scared.” Natasha grabbed her hand. 

“Scared?” The Black Widow questioned. “Scared of who?” The witch looked at her girlfriend. 

“Herself.” 

*

You slowly woke up. You felt incredibly well rested. You buried your face deeper into the pillow and the blanket around you tighter. You did not want to get up. For once, the bed felt perfect. It was warm, soft, and felt safe. “Miss. Y/n, it appears Miss. Chavez is at your door.” You groaned. 

“Tell her to go away,” you mumbled. 

“She has food with her.” You sighed, sitting up. 

“She can come in,” the door opened and America walked in holding a tray. 

“I see how it is,” America said, kicking your door close. “You only wanted to see me because I have food,” you giggled as she sat on your bed. On the tray, she brought you grilled cheese and tomato soup. “How did you sleep?” 

“Good actually,” you took a bite of your sandwich. “I was really tired.” America smiled, dipping her sandwich into her soup and eating it. 

“I would say that because it's 12:30,” your eyes widened. 

“Oh well yeah, I guess I was.” She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You missed Kamala’s send-off,” You were upset by that. “But she gave me this to give to you.” She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to you. It read, ‘It was nice meeting you. I’ll be in Jersey for a while so text me and maybe we can meet up in the city! -Kamala’ added her phone number at the bottom. You smiled, putting the note on your nightstand. 

“Thank you for bringing me food.” 

“No problem,” she smiled. “Yelena and Kate said you had a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head.

“Maybe one day but not today,” she nodded and you both finished your food in silence. “Have you watched Avatar: The Last Airbender?” You asked, finishing the rest of your soup. 

“No, I’ve been meaning to.” 

“Do you want to watch a few episodes with me?” She agreed and once your dishes were cleaned up, you sat on the couch with America. She made sure to leave enough space between you two but you couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to cuddle with her as you did with Kate. Would she be warm like Kate? Would her heartbeat lure you to sleep? 

“Hey, are you okay?” She asked. “Your face got flushed.” That made your cheeks burn more. 

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat. “I was thinking about my nightmare.” You lied.

“This will help,” she said and put on the first episode. You moved a little closer to her so your legs were barely touching. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. You soon realized your mistake as it was very hard to focus on the show with America being so close. 

*

Watching a few episodes, lead you to watch the first half of the season. You would have watched more but America got called to the sanctum. It was a good show and you were enjoying it. You walked to Tony’s lap with your Russian notebook and headphones since FRIDAY informed you the billionaire wanted to see you. You were surprised to see Bruce. He was working on Rhodney’s suit. “Hi,” you said, making your presence known. He turned around, offering you a kind smile. 

“Hi,” he said. “Tony will be right back. You can join me if you’d like.” He sounded so hesitant, scared, and unsure of himself. You knew the man the power had behind him. You smiled. 

“Okay,” you pulled up a stool and sat down next to him. He went back to work. “So,” you said, after a beat of silence. “How does the suit work?” Bruce glanced at you. 

“You want to know how this works.” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s better than sitting in silence watching you do something I don’t understand.” Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Fair enough,” he explained that the suits were powered by arc reactors, a fusion-type power source featuring a palladium core. He said that each suit had repulsors built into the hands and feet with AI built into it. Depending on the suit (or Mark as Tony called them), it had specific weapons. Rhodney’s AI system was malfunctioning which wasn’t allowing him to communicate with FRIDAY or the rest of the team. So when Tony returned with a box in his hand, he found you both hunched over the suit while Bruce was messing with wires. 

“Whatcha doing?” He asked. You looked at the billionaire with a smile. 

“Learning about Rhodney’s suit. What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the box in his hands. 

“This is the stuff Pepper left for you,” he put the box on the table. “She left a note and told me to stress the importance that all of this does not need to be done by the time she gets back.” You nodded and stepped out of the way so Tony could take your place to see what Bruce was dealing with. But you stayed and listened to them talk, using words and vocabulary that you didn’t understand. It didn’t bore you as they tried to determine the problem. It was fun, like a giant puzzle and it made you think about Tony’s offer. You weren’t Tony Stark or Bruce Banner smart but maybe with the schooling you could understand what they were saying. “Hey kid, you with us?” 

“What?” You blushed. “Sorry, I was lost in my head. What’s up?” Tony smiled. 

“We figured it out,” Bruce said. “Do you want to see how we did it?” You nodded, excitedly jumped off the chair, and walked over to them. You listened intently. Maybe you should take Tony up on that offer. 

*

Sleeping until 12:30 was a blessing and a curse, you weren’t tired so you stayed up working on the date entry Pepper left for you but now it was 2 a.m. and you couldn’t fall asleep. You didn’t have a destination in mind as you walked around the tower at night. You took the stairs to each floor and walked around with your hand on the wall. It was calming. You felt like you were the only person in the world. “Oops,” you said to the body you ran into. “I wasn’t-” your sentence died on your lips as you stared at who ran into. It was Bucky. Of course, it was Bucky. He scratched the back of his head with his metal head. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going either.” You licked your dry lips. 

“I uh was going to make some hot chocolate,” you said, heading into the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah,” he said, without hesitation. “That sounds nice.” You weren’t sure what you were doing but you ignored the man sitting down in front of you as you focused on your task. “Here,” you set the mug down in front of him. 

“Thank you,” he said with a kind smile but the kind gesture made your stomach drop and your throat tighten. You tried to keep your eyes ahead of you instead of the man but it was hard. 

“I should apologize,” you finally said. “I haven’t been the nicest to you and I’m sorry,” you couldn't look at him but he gave you his full attention. “You remind me of someone I used to know and he would hurt me.” It wasn’t the full truth. He would hurt you and you would hurt him. It was a never-ending cycle. 

“It’s okay,” you finally looked at him. “I understand. I’m sorry too, that life hasn’t been kind to you.” You were surprised to hear an apology from him. 

“Life hasn’t been kind to either of us,” he sighed, his blue eyes staring into yours. He looked away and stared into his mug of hot chocolate. “But we made it here, right?” Bucky looked at you. “It has to count for something.”

“Yeah, kid,” Bucky smiled. “I think it does.”        

Taglist: @aestruvx @toouncreativeforausername @mo-dedddd @whitewidowsbite  @mythixmagic @julilamoment

[itsexclusive]

The Department of Education sent a “Dear Colleague” letter Friday threatening the federal funding of any academic institution that considers race in most aspects of student life.

The letter — geared toward all preschool, elementary, secondary and postsecondary educational institutions, as well as state educational agencies that receive financial assistance from the federal government — laid out a sweeping and controversial interpretation of federal law following the 2023 Supreme Court decision that gutted affirmative action. It’s almost certain to draw legal challenges.

“Federal law thus prohibits covered entities from using race in decisions pertaining to admissions, hiring, promotion, compensation, financial aid, scholarships, prizes, administrative support, discipline, housing, graduation ceremonies, and all other aspects of student, academic, and campus life,” wrote Craig Trainor, acting assistant secretary for civil rights for the Education Department.

The Supreme Court’s landmark 6-3 decision in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard overturned long-standing precedent that has benefited Black and Latino students in higher education. Donald Trump, at that time the former president, called it a “great day for America.”

Trainor said that although the 2023 decision “addressed admissions decisions, the Supreme Court’s holding applies more broadly. At its core, the test is simple: If an educational institution treats a person of one race differently than it treats another person because of that person’s race, the educational institution violates the law.”

This interpretation could open a wide range of challenges to courses and literature taught in schools, scholarships for non-White students, and various student organizations, including Black fraternities and sororities.

“Race-based decision-making, no matter the form, remains impermissible. For example, a school may not use students’ personal essays, writing samples, participation in extracurriculars, or other cues as a means of determining or predicting a student’s race and favoring or disfavoring such students,” the letter read.

The letter says the department will “take appropriate measures to assess compliance with the applicable statutes and regulations based on the understanding embodied in this letter” no later than February 28.

It also criticized diversity, equity and inclusion efforts, known as DEI, saying that such programs “frequently preference certain racial groups and teach students that certain racial groups bear unique moral burdens that others do not.”

The letter comes as Trump has waged war on DEI efforts, signing an executive order hours after his swearing-in that bans DEI considerations in federal hiring. Dozens of employees at the Education Department were placed on paid administrative leave last month as part of the Trump administration’s larger effort to rid the federal workforce of employees associated with DEI efforts, two sources familiar with the move told CNN.

It also comes as the Trump administration has begun drafting an executive order that would kick off the process of eliminating the Department of Education, one of his campaign promises.

On the campaign trail, Trump repeatedly pointed to the department as a sign of federal overreach and tied it to culture war issues. “We will drain the government education swamp and stop the abuse of your taxpayer dollars to indoctrinate America’s youth with all sorts of things that you don’t want to have our youth hearing,” he said.

[darkmaga-returns]

Just a day after we wrote about the ‘rumored’ new plan for the US to hold Ukrainian elections next year to give intransigent Zelensky the boot, The Economist made it semi-official by acknowledging that, ‘suddenly’, Zelensky is facing a ‘power struggle’ at home:https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/11/12/volodymyr-zelensky-faces-a-power-struggle-in-2025

It’s in line with how Biden’s advanced dementia was just “abruptly” discovered by figures and organs of the establishment, only after becoming convenient and politically expedient enough for them to make it public. Similarly here, as soon as the memo-from-above’s arrival, The Economist sprang into pre-conditioning the ground to sell the narrative that Zelensky’s regime is now on uncertain footing; they would have never been allowed to even suggest that Zelensky faced danger at home until it became necessary to do so.

The article opens up with the admission that funeral ceremonies for soldiers in Kiev have “become more frequent” after the recent ramp-up of Russia’s offensives, a testament to the AFU’s own mounting death toll at a time when they’re desperately trying to sell the opposing claim about ‘astronomical Russian casualties’.

For now, there are two dates on Kyiv politicos’ lips: January 20th 2025, the date of Mr Trump’s inauguration, the first moment for any possible ceasefire and lifting of military law, and May 25th, the earliest mooted date for an election.

An election during pinnacle of wartime seems unthinkable, they write, but:

Still, some groundwork appears to have begun. Regional election headquarters are mobilising, and work on candidate lists is beginning. The representatives of one likely presidential rival to Volodymyr Zelensky say that Ukraine needs elections; but they worry about making a public statement to this effect, fearing a fierce backlash from the presidential office.

Then, of course, comes the obligatory backstab:

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 20

A/N: Well, guys.....looks like this is the end. NOT!! HAHA I know last time I said there was only one more chapter to this but my muse woke up and after talking over some ideas with my beta @kazsrm67, there are about 3-5 more chapters of this now.

THEN:

Beau gently lays it out for her. How Emily was invited back up to Montana to help with Sunny Day Excursions, how he wants to be honest and truthful with her. 

"I've come to realize that I'm not happy here anymore, Car. I miss the mountains and the fresh air."

"You're going back for her, aren't you?" Carla says, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

NOW:

"It's not like that," Beau objects as he stares at the woman in front of him. "I told you, Em got that letter and it just made me realize, I miss it up there."

"Beau, babe," Carla stands up and walks around the desk. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I've been selfish-" she begins. "-and weak."

Beau watches his ex-wife in perplexity. ‘What is she talking about?’ he thinks and opens his mouth to voice the words, but Carla holds up her hand, silencing him.

“Listen Beau, when I asked you to come back home-” she sighs before continuing. "-I wasn’t completely honest. After Avery’s death, I was afraid to be alone. I haven’t been alone since….well, ever. We got together in our freshman year of college, married a year after graduation; had Em and then after our divorce I met Avery and in a whirlwind got remarried. And then I found myself being a widow with an ex. So I took the coward’s way out. I asked you to try again.

“I knew you had moved on. I met Y/N, remember. Hell, yall were living together for fuck’s sake! I saw that and it reminded me of us when we first got together."

Beau sits there unmoving, flabbergasted over Carla's admission. He keeps his eyes on her as she begins pacing back and forth, between his spot and her desk. 

"I realized that I was about to come back to Texas, alone, as a widow and I was scared. I haven't been a single woman since before college and I was terrified of what that meant."

Beau's heart breaks at her confession. It's true though. From the moment they met in the financial aid line their freshman year of college, he and Carla had been inseparable,  spending every free minute with one another. It was love at first sight for both of them and even back then he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with her.

They'd graduated college and had both entered the workforce with promising careers before taking that next big step of getting married. The first few years were bliss and they felt indestructible.  Even with the unexpected arrival of Emily, they were invincible but by the time Em turned 5, that armor had been chipped and by their daughter's tenth birthday, their relationship was nothing but a shell. 

And then Beau received the final blow when he was served with divorce papers; Carla had filed for divorce, claiming irreconcilable differences. The difference was she had become captivated by a friend of a friend of an acquaintance,  Avery McCallister. And less than a year after the divorce papers were signed, Carla was no longer an Arlen.

"So," he finally spoke. "Once again, you duped me? You pretended to still feel something for me to make me do your bidding. Did you ever love me, Carla?"

Standing up, Beau towers over the brunette,  his chest heaving. "I'm just a pawn in your game of life huh? Well, guess what. I'm done. It's over. We're over. Emily and I are headed to Helena soon, and after her stint as camp staff is finished she can come back to you, if she wants. But I will not be returning. This is goodbye, Carla."

With that he turns and walks toward the door. As his hand wears around the knob, Carla defends herself. 

"I do love you Beauford! You were my one true love for almost my whole twenties. But I let outside factors cloud my judgment. I am truly sorry, honey. I moved on but I guess I didn't expect you to. I'm sorry. "

"I'm sorry too," Beau replies before turning around and looking at his ex-wife. "I'm sorry for not being enough. I'm sorry that I let you down. But I will not apologize for continuing my life. And if she'll have me back, I plan to continue living my life in Montana with Y/N."

He gives a small smile toward Carla and turns the knob and walks out of her office, passing by the receptionist desk and to the elevator.

On the way to the bottom floor, Beau closes his eyes and pinches his nose. 'God, please don't have let me have fucked it up with Y/N. I'll beg if she wants!' he thinks to himself. 

Beau: Hey Y/N. It's Beau. Looks like I'm going to be coming back to Helena. Could we meet up and talk about some things?

Beau wasn't expecting his phone to ring so when it did, he almost dropped the device in the floor.

"Y/N?"

"It's me," she answers and her voice washes over him like a warm breeze. God, how he missed her!

"How you been, sweetheart?"

Beau closes his eyes and just basks in the cadence of her voice until she says something that causes him to pause. His eyes shoot open. What did she mean by that?!

"Wait, what do you mean taking me back?! Don't you still live there? Please don't tell me you've moved back East," he begs. 

She laughs and it brings a smile to his lips and he breathes easier. She explains that she still lives in Helena but isn't there and once again, Beau holds his breath. Had she already met someone and is off visiting her new man? Oh god, please don't let that be it!

"Ohhh," Beau breathes out before asking "where are you?"

As soon as her answer hits his ears, he smiles. She is so close. But why is she in Texas? What brought her to the Lonestar State?

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogarukee @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee @tmb510 @globetrotter28

[morbidology]

On a scorching hot day in the deep south of Money, Mississippi, on August 24th, 1955, Emmett Till, a 14-year-old African American boy from Chicago, went to Bryant's Grocery and Meat Market. He had innocently gone there to purchase some candy, but what happened next would change the course of history. Carolyn Bryant, a 21-year-old white store clerk, accused Emmett of whistling at her and grabbing her. This accusation was a violation of the Jim Crow social code, which was a set of laws and customs that enforced segregation and discrimination against African Americans.

The tragic events that followed began in the early hours of August 28th, when Carolyn, her husband Roy, and his half-brother John Miliam, arrived at the home of Mose Wright, where Emmett had been staying. Emmett's great-aunt attempted to offer them money to avoid any trouble, but it was futile. They forcefully grabbed Emmett, shoved him into their truck, dropped Carolyn off at home, and then drove to an isolated barn. There, they brutally pistol-whipped and beat Emmett before shooting him dead and tossing his lifeless body into the Tallahatchie River.

Two days later, Emmett's body was found, and his mother insisted on an open-casket funeral in Chicago. However, his face was so mutilated that it was unrecognizable. This brutal slaying sparked outrage and gave a sense of urgency to the civil rights movement. The murderers, Bryant and Miliam, were eventually indicted for murder, and during the trial, an African American man named Willie Louis testified against the two white men. Louis had witnessed Emmett walking home with Bryant and Miliam, and heard the beating taking place in the barn. His testimony was a “godsend” to Emmett's family, but it also put him in great danger in the segregated south. Amazingly, nothing untoward happened to him afterward.

The trial was anything but fair. The jury members were often drunk, and many male white spectators carried handguns. During the trial, Bryant and Miliam confessed that they had taken Emmett that night, but claimed that they had let him go. The defense even argued that the body could have been anyone's and not Emmett's. Shockingly, an all-white, all-male jury acquitted both men. Years later, some of the jury members would admit that they knew the two men were guilty but saw nothing wrong with white men killing African Americans.

At the 60 year anniversary of Emmett’s murder, his family and friends gathered at his grave. Also in attendance was Sybrina Fulton, the mother of Trayvon Martin, and Michael Brown Sr., the father of Michael Brown Jr. “Black lives matter. Black lives mattered when Emmett was killed. Black lives mattered when Fred Hampton and Mark Clark were killed. Black lives matter even today,” said U.S. Rep. Bobby Rush.

In 2017, Carolyn Bryant admitted that she had fabricated the story and that Emmett hadn't touched her or attempted to. Her admission came too late for Emmett, who tragically lost his life in the most brutal and horrific way. Carolyn Bryant passed away at the age of 88 on April 27th, 2023.

[84queenspark]

ROUND 1 COMPLETED AHEAD OF SCHEDULE, ROUND 2 LIKELY IN MID-FEBRUARY 2025

Congratulations to everyone who was admitted in Round 1. Their notification emails were sent by 8:00 pm (Toronto time) on December 11th.

NOT OFFERED ADMISSION IN ROUND 1?

Additional offers will be made in Rounds 2 and 3, therefore it is erroneous to think that if you weren’t admitted in Round 1, then you will not be admitted at all.

Only in March at Round 3 will refusals and wait lists be determined. Until then, everyone with a completed file who has not been notified, will be kept viable through all rounds automatically.

Therefore there is absolutely:

No need to contact us to check if you were admitted, check your spam/junk folder, but know that we’ll get a hold of you one way or the other if you were admitted, and your OLSAS account will display an offer after three business days following our email notification.  

No need to contact us with updates to your autobiographical sketch activities, in fairness to all applicants really, don’t do this, and moreover, the OLSAS instructions do not permit it.  

No need to contact us to check if your file is complete, as long as the documents are at OLSAS, they’ll be sent to us, so check with OLSAS if unsure.  

No need to contact us to express your desire to be a new law student, you’ve applied, therefore you’ve already demonstrated your desire. Please do not provide unrequested documents including letters/emails of continued interest.  

No need to contact us about changes to your LSAT test dates, instead update the LSAT test date information on your OLSAS account, as we will get the update from OLSAS. Please read our November 26th blog.  

No need to speculate whether the November LSAT score was considered, since we stated in our last post that scores received at OLSAS by December 9th were considered. Nevertheless, with the score, an offer of admission may not have been made at this point in the cycle. Once again, we remind you that (re)consideration is automatic for the next rounds.

Your admission is based on the strength of your file among the applicant pool at the time of review, so please be patient until the very last round in March.

IMPORTANT: UPDATED TRANSCRIPT REMINDER

If you had courses in progress at the Nov 1 OLSAS application deadline, then the OLSAS application instructions require you to arrange for an updated official transcript with the final grades for the current semester to be submitted to OLSAS directly from the issuing school. FOR THE UPDATED OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT

The deadline for OLSAS to receive the transcript is February 1, 2025.  

Before ordering, please ensure that the transcript will actually include the final grades for all newly completed courses.   

Official transcripts from a student exchange/study abroad are required to be submitted directly from the HOST school to OLSAS. It is easier to make the arrangements (now) with the host school while you are still attending the school, rather than after you return to your home school. A WES Canada evaluation is not required if your home school, on its own transcript, will grant credit for the exchange/study abroad. Typically, the home school does not include on its transcript, the performance grade from the host school.  

Applicants whose WES Canada evaluations are currently in-progress,  should also arrange for an updated official transcript to be sent to OLSAS directly, while they await the WES evaluation. Do not arrange for another WES evaluation with the new grades. .

Please take the time to read and follow the OLSAS information on current transcripts in-progress, which details the standard requirements for all of the Ontario law schools. at https://www.ouac.on.ca/guide/olsas-transcript/#current-transcripts

HOLIDAY BREAK

The JD Admissions Office will be closed for the UofT holiday break starting on December 19th. We will re-open on January 6th.

In late January we will update the blog with more precise dates for when Round 2 notifications may be expected, since the timing will be affected by the February 2nd score release date of the January LSAT.

All the best! JD Admissions Office

[izooks]

Scott Galloway - NO MERCY / NO MALICE

Florida is now one of the most restrictive states in the country for abortion rights: The state’s supreme court reversed its own precedents on April 1 and upheld a ban on abortions after six weeks. Women in Florida, as in many states after the reversal of Roe v. Wade, now face harsh limits on their fundamental rights.

The same day, the court also allowed a proposal enshrining abortion rights in Florida’s constitution to appear on the ballot this November. There is a good chance it will pass, but it will be close — 60% will have to approve the amendment, and last fall, a poll found 62% of voters planned to vote for it. Nationwide, between 60% and 80% of Americans support a woman’s right to choose, depending on how the question is asked. The rest of the world is expanding the right of women to decide when and how they get pregnant and give birth. Yet in many states, a minority of Americans continue to impose their views on the rest of us. I say “us” because while this right is unique to women, it affects all of us. The right to terminate an unwanted pregnancy changed the course of my life, and my mother’s, even though I didn’t understand it at the time.

“D and What?”

On a late summer afternoon, between my junior and senior years of high school, I was in the passenger seat of my mom’s lime-green Opel Manta on the way home from work. Mom had secured me a job in the mailroom of her employer, the Southwestern School of Law, where she managed the secretarial pool, and we carpooled back and forth. Headed west on I-10 (the Santa Monica Freeway), between the La Brea and Fairfax exits, she told me about her plans for later in the week.

“I’m having a procedure called a D&C on Wednesday and won’t be home that night. Are you fine to stay alone?”

I was 16, and only really heard the part of her question suggesting I wasn’t old enough to spend the night solo in our condo. “Yeah, sure.” I didn’t ask what a D&C was, but I had the sense it had something to do with the great unknown, women’s health, and didn’t ask for details. My mom likely wanted to have a meaningful conversation with me, but that didn’t happen. Meaningful dialogue with teenage boys happens … just not when you expect. The question must have found some purchase in my consciousness, as I remember exactly what I was wearing: brown Levi’s corduroys, a Bruce Springsteen concert T-shirt, and top-siders. Not Sperry top-siders, but knockoffs. A pair of real Sperrys cost $32.

I was 16, my mom 46. I loved her because she loved me, completely. But that’s not what this post is about. I also loved the U.S. because it, too, loved us — me and my mom — completely. My mother was a single immigrant raising her son on a secretary’s salary. But this isn’t a sob story. We had good lives. Sure, money was definitely a thing, but we lived in a nice place and took vacations to Niagara Falls and San Francisco, ate at Junior’s Deli every Sunday night, and went some weekends to the beach in Santa Monica, where parking was $2 for the whole day, just behind lifeguard station No. 9.

Our nation welcomed my mother with open arms. Despite her having no education or money, we helped her out in between jobs and loaned her money so she could go to night school and become a stenographer. The state of California loved her son: The vision and generosity of the regents of UCLA and California’s taxpayers gave her unremarkable son (this isn’t a humblebrag, I was seriously unimpressive) a remarkable opportunity. I received a world-class education at little cost: UCLA (my B.A.) and UC Berkeley (an MBA) for a total cost (tuition) of $7,000 for all seven years.

More than just affordable, it was accessible: UCLA had a 76% admissions rate when I applied, and Berkeley’s Haas School of Business accepted me with an undergraduate GPA of (no joke) 2.27. America is about the opportunities it provides the unremarkable, not the manufacture of a superclass of billionaires from the pool of preordained remarkables.

But the ultimate expression of our nation’s empathy and love for a single mother, in my view, was to grant, and protect, her domain over her reproductive system. In the U.S., 59% of women getting abortions are already moms. Twenty-four percent are Catholic, 17% mainline Protestant, 13% evangelical Protestant. Over a third of pregnancies in the U.S. are unintended.

Men and women create unwanted pregnancies. However, it’s often men’s lack of manhood that’s behind abortions. Half of women seeking an abortion cite the lack of a reliable partner as a reason for their choice. In many cases the partner is abusive. Among all abortion patients, 95% report that abortion was a good choice — they remain relieved several months after the procedure. Violence toward women declines precipitously after an abortion, because they can break ties with their abusers. The leading cause of death for women who are pregnant or have just given birth, by a factor of 2x, is homicide.

Alt Control

What is going on here? In my view, it has nothing to do with “life,” as the most staunch advocates of the “pro-life” movement are the first to advocate for cutting the child tax credit, executing criminals, or putting a pregnant woman in danger when a pregnancy becomes a health risk. Many argue that these folks are not obsessed with life, but birth. This also misses the mark — the same groups do not favor economic policies that would encourage people to have children. This is about control or, more specifically, retaking control and power back from women.

I write a lot about how far young men have fallen in America over the past several decades. Even more striking is the ascent of women, globally, over the same period. Women now outnumber men in tertiary education enrollment worldwide; and the number of women elected to parliamentary positions has doubled since 1990. Women’s wealth is growing faster than overall wealth. A static feature of a modern economy is women outpacing men in education and income growth.

However, this has stirred the ghoul that haunts the world … posing a greater threat to society than any autocrat or virus: extremism. The parabolic progress of women over the past several decades has inspired a gag reflex among the most conservative wings of many religions. The radical wings of Christian, Islamic, and Jewish sects have weaponized politics and blurred the lines between religion and legislation. In America, where there used to be a sharp distinction, as outlined in the Constitution, we’ve witnessed a first: the rollback of citizens’ rights with the overturn of Roe.

The backlash among Christian nationalists has been speedballed by the other great threat: loneliness. Two-thirds of women under the age of 30 have a romantic partner vs. just one-third of men the same age. Men have fewer friends than they once did. Unfortunately, men’s loneliness can turn toxic, as they have weaker social networks and consequent guardrails. Lonely young men are more prone to conspiracy theories, nationalism, and misogynistic content. In sum, they risk becoming shitty citizens. The most striking, and frightening, data re the abortion debate is the group that registers the least support for a women’s right to choose: Gen Z men (age 12 to 27). Do you think this reflects their love for the unborn, or resentment of the living (women) … who they feel shunned by? It’s simple: Radicalized and lonely American men want uppity women to sit down.

The weapon of choice among these groups is economic warfare. To deny someone bodily autonomy is analogous to defunding them; they lose power. The Turnaway Study followed 1,000 women who sought abortions (some successfully, some not), compiling over 8,000 interviews over five years. The women in the study who were denied an abortion on average had higher debt and a greater risk of bankruptcy, and they were more likely to be in poverty years after giving birth.

2nd Order

How did you get to where you are now? People tell themselves a story that credits their character and grit for success, while blaming outside forces for their failures. But small twists of fate, errant decisions, and sheer randomness put you in this place, at this moment. I’m in tech because I fell in love with a woman and followed her to the Haas School of Business — I’d initially enrolled at the University of Texas. It’s more likely, graduating in 1992 Austin, I would have ended up in the energy sector or back in banking vs. the clear and present choice of tech in (wait for it) Silicon Valley.

But going further back, if my mom, at 46, hadn’t had access to affordable family planning, our lives would have been changed dramatically. Not only did we lack the funds or connections to figure it out (a rich friend who knew a doctor or the resources to travel far and have the procedure), but we also didn’t have the confidence. Just as I didn’t apply to out-of-state colleges — only rich kids did that. A lower-middle-class household headed by a single parent, neither remarkable, puts both of you on your heels instead of your toes.

If Roe v. Wade hadn’t been the law of the land, things could have been much different for me and my mom. An unwanted child at 46 would have been financially ruinous for our household. There was no maternity leave for secretaries in the eighties. I likely would have done what my father and mother did when their families were in financial distress, and left school to help out. I wouldn’t have enrolled at UCLA. Instead, I would have stayed in the job my father had secured for me after high school, installing shelving at $18/hour — a lot of money for us at the time.

Without my mom having that choice, there would have been no UCLA, no Berkeley grad school, no tech startups, no tens of millions in taxes paid, and … fewer children. I have always been worried about money and did not especially want kids. There’s no way I’d have opted for kids, later in life, if financially strained. We see evidence of this today, as a younger generation is having fewer children because they can’t afford them. My mom’s right to choose not to have a child she couldn’t afford gave me the choice to have children I could. All unbeknownst to me, at 16 years of age.

America is a mix of opportunity and acceptance, each being a force multiplier for the other. The reversal of Roe is about extremists and people who feel shunned trying to recapture control from a group that’s increasingly less suppliant to religion or men. The result is a lack of prosperity and a dangerous regression in the U.S., which used to illuminate a path forward for other nations. The suppression of abortion rights is yet another transfer of wealth from the poor to the rich — no child of a private equity partner is going to lose her right to choose. The economic assault against women, specifically poor women and their families, cripples opportunity and acceptance. It is wrong and un-American.

Life is so rich,

Scott Galloway

[mpu-promotion1]

Empowering Media Minds: BJMC at MPU for Aspiring Journalists.

In today's rapidly changing media landscape, Journalism and Mass Communication play crucial roles in shaping public opinion, influencing societal norms, and providing real-time news updates. Mind Power University (MPU), nestled in the tranquil setting of Bhimtal, Nainital, offers two in-depth programs designed to equip students with the skills needed for success in these dynamic fields.: the Bachelor of Journalism & Mass Communication (BJMC)  (👈Click Here). This programs equip students with the skills to thrive in the media industry. Whether you aspire to become a journalist, media producer, public relations expert, or content creator, MPU’s journalism programs provide a gateway to diverse career opportunities.

Bachelor of Journalism & Mass Communication (BJMC) at Mind Power University:-

Course Overview:-

The BJMC program at Mind Power University is designed to offer an in-depth understanding of mass media and its role in society. This undergraduate course emphasizes theoretical knowledge, hands-on training, and the development of critical thinking skills required for a successful career in media and communication. BJMC students gain exposure to various forms of media, including print, television, radio, and digital platforms, ensuring they are well-prepared to navigate the demands of the industry.

Duration of the Course:-

The BJMC program at MPU is a three-year undergraduate degree that is divided into six semesters. During these semesters, students delve into subjects such as Media Ethics, Communication Theories, Reporting, Editing, Digital Media, and Public Relations. The course structure is designed to balance classroom learning with practical workshops, internships, and project-based work.

Eligibility Criteria:-

To enroll in the BJMC program at Mind Power University, candidates need to have completed their 10+2 education from a recognized board with a minimum aggregate score of 50%. The program is open to students from any stream, making it accessible to a wide range of applicants. Some institutions may require entrance examinations, while others may offer admission based on merit. Mind Power University implements a holistic admission process that evaluates both academic performance and personal aptitude, ensuring a well-rounded selection of candidates.

Course Content:-

The BJMC program at MPU covers a broad range of subjects, including:-

Introduction to Journalism: Understanding the history and evolution of journalism.

Mass Communication Theories: Exploring how media impacts society and vice versa.

Media Laws and Ethics: Legal and ethical aspects of media practices.

News Writing & Editing: Practical training in writing and editing for different media platforms.

Radio & Television Journalism: Techniques in audio-visual media production.

Public Relations & Corporate Communication: Managing public relations for organizations.

Digital Media & Online Journalism: Embracing the rise of digital platforms and the role of social media in journalism.

Media Research Methods: Learning techniques to conduct media-related research and analyze audience behavior.

Career Scope After BJMC:-

Graduates of the BJMC program from Mind Power University(👈Click Here). have an expansive range of career opportunities. Some of the prominent roles include:

Journalist: Reporting news for print, broadcast, or online media outlets.

Content Writer/Editor: Crafting and editing articles, blogs, and online content.

News Anchor: Presenting news stories on television or radio.

Public Relations Officer: Managing a company’s public image and communication strategies.

Social Media Manager: Handling the social media presence of organizations and brands.

Photojournalist: Capturing visual stories for media publications.

Advertising Executive: Creating campaigns to promote products and services.

As the media industry continues to expand, BJMC graduates are well-positioned to take advantage of the numerous opportunities in both traditional and new media fields.