#Health Insurance Top-Up Plan

[notjanine]

me a week ago: i love my job!!

me now, after having a mid-year review that amounted to you’re doing an excellent job and you bring such a valuable perspective to our practice but i don’t have the ability to give you a raise right now but don’t worry bc i just hired a new CFO to try to figure out money so we can maybe give you a raise later this year: *breaks into a cold sweat as i crack open indeed dot com*

[lesdemonium]

the most frustrating thing about neurodivergence is that i work really hard to combat it, right? i set up systems and i set myself up for success by being proactive and taking the human element (me) out of it as much as possible. i do meal planning for the month and grocery pickups and scheduled laundry days and autopay to make my life function. not even easier, just functioning! but it's other systems that fuck me up.

my health insurance updated their autopay website to be "better" (it does the same damn things) and now my payment is late because they messed up moving accounts over so now i have to drop what i'm doing to sign up for my third account with them and set up my autopay again and i just. i don't have the energy for this. it's such a small thing but it's always the small things that tip me over. and this not getting done has real consequences for me but them messing with my systems over and over and making me jump through hoops has no consequences for them.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nalgenes]

also now that i think about it, i started seeing my therapist at the start of july. which means i’ll have been seeing them for 6 months at the start of january. and that’s how long the surgeon requires patients to see therapists for before getting a letter of recommendation for surgery. so within the next month i might be moving forward with a consultation. Uhhh that’s bonkers

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #31

August 9-16 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris announced together the successful conclusion of the first negotiations between Medicare and pharmaceutical companies over drug prices. For years Medicare was not allow to directly negotiate princes with drug companies leaving seniors to pay high prices. It has been a Democratic goal for many years to change this. President Biden noted he first introduced a bill to allow these negotiations as a Senator back in 1973. Thanks to Inflation Reduction Act, passed with no Republican support using Vice-President Harris' tie breaking vote, this long time Democratic goal is now a reality. Savings on these first ten drugs are between 38% and 79% and will collectively save seniors $1.8 billion dollars in out of pocket costs. This comes on top of the Biden-Harris Administration already having capped the price of insulin for Medicare's 3.5 million diabetics at $35 a month, as well as the Administration's plan to cap Medicare out of pocket drug costs at $2,000 a year starting January 2025.

President Biden and Vice President Harris have launched a wide ranging all of government effort to crack down on companies wasting customers time with excessive paperwork, hold times, and robots rather than real people. Some of the actions from the "Time is Money" effort include: The FTC and FCC putting forward rules that require companies to make canceling a subscription or service as easy as signing up for it. The Department of Transportation has required automatic refunds for canceled flights. The CFPB is working on rules to require companies to have to allow customers to speak to a real person with just one button click ending endless "doom loops" of recored messages. The CFPB is also working on rules around chatbots, particularly their use from banks. The FTC is working on rules to ban companies from posting fake reviews, suppressing honest negative reviews, or paying for  positive reviews. HHS and the Department of Labor are taking steps to require insurance companies to allow health claims to be submitted online. All these actions come on top of the Biden Administration's efforts to get rid of junk fees.

President Biden and First Lady Jill Biden announced further funding as part of the President's Cancer Moonshot. The Cancer Moonshot was launched by then Vice-President Biden in 2016 in the aftermath of his son Beau Biden's death from brain cancer in late 2015. It was scrapped by Trump as political retaliation against the Obama-Biden Administration. Revived by President Biden in 2022 it has the goal of cutting the number of cancer deaths in half over the next 25 years, saving 4 million lives. Part of the Moonshot is Advanced Research Projects Agency for Health (ARPA-H), grants to help develop cutting edge technology to prevent, detect, and treat cancer. The President and First Lady announced $150 million in ARPA-H grants this week focused on more successful cancer surgeries. With grants to Tulane, Rice, Johns Hopkins, and Dartmouth, among others, they'll help fund imaging and microscope technology that will allow surgeons to more successfully determine if all cancer has been remove, as well as medical imaging focused on preventing damage to healthy tissues during surgeries.

Vice-President Harris announced a 4-year plan to lower housing costs. The Vice-President plans on offering $25,000 to first time home buyers in down-payment support. It's believed this will help support 1 million first time buyers a year. She also called for the building of 3 million more housing units, and a $40 billion innovation fund to spur innovative housing construction. This adds to President Biden's call for a $10,000 tax credit for first time buyers and calls by the President to punish landlords who raise the rent by over 5%.

President Biden Designates the site of the 1908 Springfield Race Riot a National Monument. The two day riot in Illinois capital took place just blocks away from Abraham Lincoln's Springfield home. In August 1908, 17 people die, including a black infant, and 2,000 black refugees were forced to flee the city. As a direct result of the riot, black community leaders and white allies met a few months later in New York and founded the NAACP. The new National Monument will seek to preserve the history and educate the public both on the horrible race riot as well as the foundation of the NAACP. This is the second time President Biden has used his authority to set up a National Monument protecting black history, after setting up the Emmett Till and Mamie Till-Mobley National Monument on Emmett Till's 82nd birthday July 25th 2023.

The Department of The Interior announced $775 million to help cap and clean up orphaned oil and gas wells. The money will help cap wells in 21 states. The Biden-Harris Administration has allocated $4.7 billion to plug orphaned wells, a billion of which has already been distributed. More than 8,200 such wells have been capped since the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law passed in 2022. Orphaned wells leak toxins into communities and are leaking the super greenhouse gas methane. Plugging them will not only improve the health of nearby communities but help fight climate change on a global level.

Vice-President Harris announced plans to ban price-gouging in the food and grocery industries. This would be a first ever federal ban on price gouging and Harris called for clear "rules of the road" on price rises in food, and strong penalties from the FTC for those who break them. This is in line with President Biden's launching of a federal Strike Force on Unfair and Illegal Pricing in March, and Democratic Senator Bob Casey's bill to ban "shrinkflation". In response to this pressure from Democrats on price gouging and after aggressive questions by Senator Casey and Senator Elizabeth Warren, the supermarket giant Kroger proposed dropping prices by a billion dollars

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

.

[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

.

.

.

—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at you like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just stare off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[agayconcept]

.

[sentient-cloud]

Ok so. Hi. Me again! Last time I swear. Hopefully. I’m Tavian. Me and my mom and our cat have been through some things. We’re homeless, lack of a better word. We’ve been living in various hotels for about 3 years. Lost jobs from health issues, my moms been in and out of the hospital and has heart failure. I’ve got health issues myself that make holding down a job hard to impossible, especially if we’re going to keep the insurance that my moms depending on to keep her heart alive right now. That said I acknowledge I am far from a stranger for coming on here and begging for money in the past. I know I’ve asked for more than anyone can ever expect and I am beyond grateful for the help that’s allowed us to stay somewhat afloat. Words can’t describe how thankful I am the generosity of others has allowed us to quite frankly stay alive.

I need to acknowledge this isn’t the level of emergency past things have been. Especially now, when maybe people are in much more dire need than us.

That out of the way, we’ve been given an opportunity that quite frankly feels life changing. If we can come up with $300 by November 1st (or well as soon as possible, it’s what will lock the apartment for us) we can move into an actual apartment. A real lease, kitchen, bedrooms. No mold or bugs. She’s extremely generous with working with us to pay extra rent until we catch up with the full $2,400 amount that’s the technical move in cost. The only sticker is that extra $300 on top of what we can offer. If we can get that we’ll be able to move into a real place and out of hotels for the first time in years.

I acknowledge this is a big ask, but fuck man I have to try don’t I? I’m technically planning for $400, because this would allow us to get an air mattress to share and a month of service on my phone (so my mom can contact her work and so that I can have a way to get in contact with y’all about commisions and such.) But $300 is the bare minimum to have a real house.

I know this is a lot to ask, I can offer commisions, pay what you want, if anyone’s interested in my art. I have PayPal and Venmo and cash app, if anyone’s able to help. I also can promise I will refund your money, if you send in money and the deal falls through in the meantime. I’ll even still give you that commission. Dm me for details I guess? Fuck man. Fuck.

400/400. !!!

I’m speechless. Thank you all so so much, I will keep everyone updated (we tour the apartment tomorrow? And talk about when the money will be exchanged and the lease can be signed. I really can’t express enough how life changing this is for us. As I promised, i will keep everyone updated, and if this opportunity falls through (I’m scared of allowing myself to be too hopeful, haha it doesn’t feel real you know?) I will let everyone know and issue refunds, it’s the least I can do. I really can’t express enough how grateful we all are.

[covid-safer-hotties]

COVID-19’s summer surge shows no signs of slowing down - Published Aug 17, 2024

Asurge in COVID-19 infections has swept the country this summer, upending travel plans and bringing fevers, coughs and general malaise. It shows no immediate sign of slowing.

While most of the country and the federal government has put the pandemic in the rearview mirror, the virus is mutating and new variants emerging.

Even though the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) no longer tracks individual infection numbers, experts think it could be the biggest summer wave yet.

So far, the variants haven’t been proven to cause a more serious illness, and vaccines remain effective, but there’s no certainty about how the virus may yet change and what happens next.

The highest viral activity right now is in the West, according to wastewater data from the CDC, but a “high” or “very high” level of COVID-19 virus is being detected in wastewater in almost every state. And viral levels are much higher nationwide than they were this time last year and started increasing earlier in the summer.

Wastewater data is the most reliable method of tracking levels of viral activity because so few people test, but it can’t identify specific case numbers.

Part of the testing decline can be attributed to pandemic fatigue, but experts said it’s also an issue of access. Free at-home tests are increasingly hard to find. The government isn’t distributing them, and private insurance plans have not been required to cover them since the public health emergency ended in 2023.

COVID has spiked every summer since the start of the pandemic. Experts have said the surge is being driven by predictable trends like increased travel and extreme hot weather driving more people indoors, as well as by a trio of variants that account for nearly 70 percent of all infections. Vaccines and antivirals can blunt the worst of the virus, and hospital are no longer being overwhelmed like in the earliest days of the pandemic.

But there remains a sizeable number of people who are not up-to-date on vaccinations. There are concerns that diminished testing and low vaccination rates could make it easier for more dangerous variants to take hold.

“One of the things that’s distinctive about this summer is that the variants out there are extraordinarily contagious, so they’re spreading very, very widely, and lots of people are getting mild infections, many more than know it, because testing is way down,” said William Schaffner, a professor of preventive medicine and infectious diseases at Vanderbilt University.

That contagiousness means the virus is more likely to find the people most vulnerable — people over 65, people with certain preexisting conditions, or those who are immunocompromised.

In a July interview with the editor-in-chief of MedPage Today, the country’s former top infectious diseases doctor, Anthony Fauci, said people in high-risk categories need to take the virus seriously, even if the rest of the public does not.

“You don’t have to immobilize what you do and just cut yourself off from society,” Fauci said. “But regardless of what the current recommendations are, when you are in a crowded, closed space and you are an 85-year-old person with chronic lung disease or a 55-year-old person who’s morbidly obese with diabetes and hypertension, then you should be wearing a mask when you’re in closed indoor spaces.”

Schaffner said hospitalizations have been increasing in his region for at least the past five weeks, which surprised him.

“I thought probably they had peaked last week. Wrong. They went up again this week. So at least locally, we haven’t seen the peak yet. I would have expected this summer increase … to have plateaued and perhaps start to ease down. But we haven’t seen that yet,” he said.

Still, much of the country has moved on from the pandemic and is reacting to the surge with a collective shrug. COVID-19 is being treated like any other respiratory virus, including by the White House.

President Biden was infected in July. After isolating at home for several days and taking a course of the antiviral Paxlovid, he returned to campaign trial.

Biden is 81, meaning he’s considered high risk for severe infection. He received an updated coronavirus vaccine in September, but it’s not clear if he got a second one, which the CDC recommends for older Americans.

Updated vaccines that target the current variants are expected to be rolled out later this fall, and the CDC recommends everyone ages 6 months and older should receive one.

As of May, only 22.5 percent of adults in the United States reported having received the updated 2023-2024 vaccine that was released last fall and tailored to the XBB variant dominant at that time.

The immunity from older vaccines wanes over time, and while it doesn’t mean people are totally unprotected, Schaffner said, the most vulnerable should be cautious. Many people being infected now have significantly reduced immunity to the current mutated virus, but reduced immunity is better than no immunity.

People with healthy immune systems and who have previously been vaccinated or infected are still less likely to experience the more severe infections that result in hospitalization or death.

Almost “none of us are naive to COVID, but the people where the protection wanes the most are the most frail, the immunodeficient, the people with chronic underlying illnesses,” Schaffner said.

[simply-ivanka]

Harris and Schumer Target the Supreme Court

Democrats make clear that if they win, they’ll push measures to destroy the judiciary’s independence.

By 

David B. Rivkin Jr. and Andrew M. Grossman -- Wall Street Journal

Democrats have made clear that if they win the presidency and Congress in November, they will attempt to take over the Supreme Court as well. Shortly after ending his re-election campaign, President Biden put forth a package of high-court “reforms,” including term limits and a “binding” ethics code designed to infringe on judicial authority. Kamala Harris quickly signed on, and Majority Leader Chuck Schumer has made clear that bringing the justices to heel is a top priority.

Democrats proclaim their devotion to democratic institutions, but their plan for the court is an assault on America’s basic constitutional structure. The Framers envisioned a judiciary operating with independence from influences by the political branches. Democratic “reform” proposals are designed to change the composition of the court or, failing that, to influence the justices by turning up the political heat, as President Franklin D. Roosevelt achieved with his failed 1937 court-packing plan.

Now as then, the court stands between a Democratic administration and its ambitions. The reformers’ beef is precisely that the court is doing its job by enforcing constitutional and statutory constraints on the powers of Congress and the executive branch.

Roosevelt sought to shrug off limits on the federal government’s reach. What’s hamstrung the Obama and Biden administrations is the separation of powers among the branches. President Obama saw his signature climate initiative, the Clean Power Plan, stayed by the court, which later ruled that it usurped Congress’s lawmaking power. The Biden administration repeatedly skirted Congress to enact major policies by executive fiat, only for the courts to enjoin and strike them down. That includes the employer vaccine mandate, the eviction moratorium and the student-loan forgiveness plan.

That increasingly muscular exercises of executive power have accompanied the left’s ascendance in the Democratic Party coalition is no coincidence. The legislative process entails compromise and moderation, which typically cuts against radical goals. That was the lesson self-styled progressives took from ObamaCare, which they’ve never stopped faulting for failing to establish a government medical-insurance provider to compete directly with private ones. Similarly, Congress has always tailored student-loan relief to reward public service and account for genuine need.

Then there’s the progressive drive for hands-on administration of the national economy by “expert” agencies empowered to make, enforce and adjudicate the laws. The Supreme Court has stood as a bulwark against the combination of powers that James Madison pronounced “the very definition of tyranny.” Decisions from the 2023-24 term cut back on agencies’ power to make law through aggressive reinterpretation of their statutory authority, to serve as judge in their own cases, and to evade judicial review of regulations alleged to conflict with statute. By enforcing constitutional limits on the concentration of power in agencies, the Roberts court has fortified both democratic accountability and individual liberty.

That explains the Democratic Party’s attacks on the court. The New York Times’s Jamelle Bouie recently praised Mr. Biden for identifying the court as the “major obstacle to the party’s ability” to carry out its agenda and commended the president’s “willingness to challenge the Supreme Court as a political entity.” That explains the ginned-up “ethics” controversies: The aim is to discredit the court, as has become the norm in political warfare.

An even bigger lie is the refrain that the court is “out of control” and “undemocratic.” Consider the most controversial decisions of recent terms. Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (2022) returned the regulation of abortion to the democratic process. West Virginia v. EPA(2022) and Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo (2024) constrained agencies’ power to say what the law is, without denying Congress’s power to pursue any end. Securities and Exchange Commission v. Jarkesy (2024) elevated the Seventh Amendment right to a jury in fraud cases over the SEC’s preference to bring such cases in its own in-house tribunals. And Trump v. U.S. (2024), the presidential immunity ruling, extended the doctrine of Nixon v. Fitzgerald (1982) to cover criminal charges as well as lawsuits, without altering the scope of presidential power one iota.

Meanwhile, the administrative state has scored wins in some of this year’s cases. In Consumer Financial Protection Bureau v. Community Financial Services Association, the justices rejected a challenge to the CFPB’s open-ended funding mechanism. A ruling to the contrary could have spelled the agency’s end. In Moody v. NetChoice, it reversed a far-reaching injunction restricting agencies’ communications with social-media companies seeking to censor content. And in Food and Drug Administration v. Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine, it reversed another injunction, against the FDA over its approval of an abortion pill. The last two decisions were notable as exercises of judicial restraint. In both cases, the court found the challengers lacked standing to sue.

What Mr. Biden, Ms. Harris, Mr. Schumer and their party are attempting to do is wrong and dangerous. They aim to destroy a branch of federal government. For faithfully carrying out its role, the court faces an unprecedented attack on its independence, beyond even Roosevelt’s threats. Unlike then, however, almost every Democratic lawmaker and official marches in lockstep, and the media, which were skeptical of Roosevelt’s plan, march with them.

As Alexander Hamilton observed, the “independence of the judges” is “requisite to guard the Constitution and the rights of individuals” from the actions of “designing men” set on “dangerous innovations in the government.” The political branches have forgone their own obligation to follow the Constitution, which makes the check of review by an independent judiciary all the more essential. Ms. Harris and Mr. Schumer would put it under threat.

Mr. Rivkin served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations. Mr. Grossman is a senior legal fellow at the Buckeye Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

[gurggggleburgle]

expanding off my original : i know when qinghua says i get benefits he doesn't mean vacation hours and dental but can you imagine post I'd like to say it both makes complete sense that demons would invest in dental insurance as normal in society and also not in the slightest and that's what makes it funny.

What I mean is common conception and idea about demons is they all regenerate to an extent. We know that Sha Hauling regrows her nails in a near instance (which means being a lesbian requires so much focus in bed to restrain that) and we can assume that teeth are not being left out. See humans don't usually need to worry too much about their teeth being punched out of their face or grinding their own teeth apart with rage and jaw strength. Demons have fighting as a huge part of their social culture and I don't think its a stretch to say in demon flirting sometimes you accidentally knock a tooth. Having superhuman strength doesn't mean you aren't chipping your teeth and also if you worry about this and can just pull out a tooth and regrow it stands to reason that's a normal enough thing you can do. But also, you wanna make sure that comes back clean. Some demons might have diets that make them at risk for certain gum diseases, demons who have teeth that continuously grow might have certain cleanings they get done. There are endless teeth possibilities. Conceptually I think the idea that demons treat dental care as near the top would be both fitting and funny.

Because I want a fic where Airplane has to go to the dentist and Mu Qingfan is like I'm sorry I'm not an orthodontist and so he's forced to go to a demon world dentist and is super scared and like oh god he's gonna leave my mouth a bloody gummy mess.

But like actually its like the best dentist experience man has ever had. The dentist is nice, his pain taken care of, they use flavored gloves and let you take some home to chew on later, honestly he's knocked out on laughing gas so its basically just one big old nap for him and its great. And its virtually free with his health care plan? Sign him up for a followup this shit is the king!

And Mobei-Jun gets to be all smug about how his kingdom has 12/10 dental. Alternatively 20k fic just about how Mobei-Jun hates the dentist. But specifically because they stopped letting him have flavored gloves during his appointments.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - May 29, 2023

Rwanda’s life expectancy has increased by 20 years in the last 20 years

What did Rwanda change? Three developments stand out: low-cost community-based health insurance plans, national investments in rural health posts, and ramped-up foreign collaborations. In 2020, more than 90 percent of Rwanda’s people had some kind of health insurance. This stands out relative to other low-income countries, where on average 31 percent of people have health insurance.

2. Brandon School Division rejects call to remove library books on sexuality, gender identity

Loud cheers erupted inside a packed high school gymnasium after the Brandon School Division rejected a call to remove books dealing with sexuality and gender identity from libraries. Hundreds of people in Manitoba's second-largest city showed up for the marathon school division meeting, which ran into the early morning hours.

The trustees ultimately voted 6-1 to reject a proposal to create a committee of trustees and parents to review books available in division schools.

3. Lotto winner pledges to fund classrooms in his native Mali

Happiness for one lucky North Carolina resident comes not from newfound wealth from a lottery win, but using those winnings to help schoolchildren -- in this case, from Mali.

Souleymane Sana of North Carolina won $100,000 from a scratch-off ticket. Relocating to the United States from Mali -- a war-torn county in West Africa -- Sana is using his earnings to create a non-profit to help school kids from his hometown.

4. Mountain gorillas rebound thanks to Ugandan veterinarian

In 2018, as their population topped 1,000, they were removed from the critically endangered list and their status upgraded to just endangered. That positive step was due, in no small part, to Ugandan veterinarian Dr. Gladys Kalema-Zikusoka. 

Her working home is Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, home to roughly half of the world's mountain gorillas. But early on she also realized that to help the animals and keep them free from disease and poaching, she needed to also help their human neighbours, launching successful initiatives to improve the health and well-being of the people living around the park. 

5. Imports of ivory from hippos, orcas and walruses to be banned in UK

Ivory imports from hippopotamuses, orcas and walruses will be banned under new legislation to protect the endangered species from poaching.

The Ivory Act, passed in 2018, targeted materials from elephants, but a loophole meant that animals other than elephants, including hippos, were being targeted for their ivory.

6. Solar power due to overtake oil production investment for first time in 2023

Investment in clean energy will extend its lead over spending on fossil fuels in 2023, the International Energy Agency said on Thursday, with solar projects expected to outpace outlays on oil production for the first time.

Annual investment in renewable energy is up by nearly a quarter since 2021 compared to a 15% rise for fossil fuels, the Paris-based energy watchdog said in its World Energy Investment report.

7. Paralyzed man walks naturally, thanks to wireless ‘bridge’ between brain and spine

Gert-Jan Oskam lost the ability to walk in 2011 when he injured his spine in a cycling accident in China. Six years later, the Dutch man managed to take a few short steps thanks to a small array of electrodes implanted on top of his spinal cord that delivered nerve-stimulating pulses of electricity.

Today in Nature, an international team of researchers reports giving Oskam a better fix, a way to digitally bridge the communication gap between his brain and lower body. Brain waves signaling Oskam’s desire to walk travel from a device implanted in his skull to the spinal stimulator, rerouting the signal around the damaged tissue and delivering pulses of electricity to the spinal cord to facilitate the movement. Oskam can now walk more fluidly, navigate obstacles, and climb stairs.

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

SUBCRIBE HERE for more good news in your inbox

[anonymous-dentist]

If you ok with it i'd love to see something with trans(man) q!cellbit and if not, maybe catboy q!cellbit (government assigned or otherwise) ^_^

Cellbit goes into the office planning on setting Cucurucho's desk on fire. But what he finds instead is Cucurucho waiting in Cellbit's office with a clipboard and.

"What the fuck?" Cellbit can't help but ask, because. Because.

Cucurucho jumps for joy in place. The balloon in its hand bobs in the air. It's blue and red and it reads, in golden comic sans: "CONGRATS ON THE TOP SURGERY!!!"

What the fuck?

Cellbit stares at the balloon.

Cellbit stares at Cucurucho.

Cellbit walks to his desk and sits.

Cucurucho does a jump and a spin. Then, it puts the clipboard down on the desk in front of him.

Cellbit looks at the clipboard. He blinks once, twice, and then he looks up at Cucurucho in sheer disbelief.

"What," he emphatically repeats, "the fuck?"

Because right there on the clipboard is a medical form that Cellbit does not remember signing. It's very wordy, definitely nothing Cellbit would normally care about, but he can see repeated several times throughout the document the words, "Subcutaneous mastectomy".

Cucurucho jumps again.

"Yes!" it cheers.

Cellbit racks his brain trying to remember if he'd ever somehow come out to Cucurucho. He hadn't even come out to Roier until Festa Junina. Pac and Mike only know because Cellbit depends on them for his hormones (how they make them, he doesn't know.) Bad technically knows, but only because he knew Cellbit when Cellbit was an exceptionally-tormented teenager.

...But then he remembers the few days he spent working in the laboratory Felps was kept in, the few days he can't remember for the life of him.

As Cellbit's horror grows inside of him, Cucurucho whips out a book, writes something in it, and throws it at his desk:

'Your Federation Employee Health Insurance has approved your requested procedure!

We love diversity <3'

Cellbit wants to puke. He feels like he should be... grateful? But also. What the fuck.

Cucurucho jumps one more time before nodding and handing the balloon over. It skips out the door, the very picture of a corporate ally.

Cellbit looks up at the balloon. He looks down at the paperwork. He looks at the book.

He screams.

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 3

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Latrice bailed on you for dinner, but set you up for a date with Bada instead.

Warning: Swearing, Flirting, Legs

AN: Sorry for the late upload and shorter than expected chapter!! Still trying to get over Monday - will try to upload over the next few days. Thank you to everyone for following along~

Previous | Next

After finally getting the keys to your recording studio, you were overjoyed and decided to take Latrice out for celebratory dinner.

Y/N: Dinner’s on me make yourself available

Latrice: 🤨

Latrice: u tryna poison me again?

Y/N: It was one time Latrice get over it

Latrice: I don’t have comprehensive health insurance here I’m not risking it

Y/N: 🙄 I’m taking you out for dinner

Latrice: Keep talking

Y/N: THE STUDIO IS READYYYY 🤩

Y/N: And I don’t wanna drink alone

Latrice: Wait that’s actually good news I’m so happy for you ahhhh 🥰🥰🥰

Latrice: But still no

Y/N: What why what did I do?

Latrice: Nothing I am busy

Y/N: 🧐

Y/N: Busy?

Y/N: …

Y/N: Waitttttt a damn minute

Y/N: I want a name cunt who tf you linked up with

Y/N: HELLO??? MA’AM?

Y/N: Whatever happened to sharing is caring huh?

Latrice: 👉🏾👈🏾

Y/N: Oh god what have you done

Y/N: Tell me it’s not who I think it is you dumb fucking bitch 😇

Latrice: 🤭

Y/N: Ms. Kabamba 😇

Team BEBE was filming the last bit of reaction segments with Mnet while they were interrupted by a few raps on their door. “Come in!” Lusher greeted her co-captain dance mate in with a hug.

Latrice slowly poked her head through the door, “Hey Bada can I borrow you for a quick second?”

Bada looked up, confused, but walked over nonetheless. “Is everything alright?”

“Calling in a personal favour,” Latrice smiled nervously, “can you go on a dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Sure!” The choreographer hummed and nodded excitedly, “BEBE with Jam Republic?”

“You and Y/N,” Latrice snickered, “I have a date and had to bail, but she’ll be much much kinder to me if you’d go in my place instead.”

Bada raised an eyebrow and pointed at herself. Perplexed, she sounded a little dumbfounded, “Me? Why?”

Latrice rolled her eyes at the obvious question, “She has a fat celebrity crush on you since she the first episode aired, that’s why. Now please, pretty please with a cherry on top, would you go in my place tonight so she don’t-” Latrice stopped dead as you decided you’ve had enough of her ignoring your text and started calling her instead. Her eyes widen slightly in fear as she turned to the taller dancer. “Bada please I’ll owe you one, I’m so so sorry-” she swiped and picked up your call, “heyyyy Y/N, I was just telling Bada about your dinner plan tonight. She’s super keen! Here you go-”

Latrice palmed the phone to the choreographer like a hot potato, mouthing ‘thank you’ at the blonde.

Dinner with Bada? The sentence hasn’t fully registered in your brain as you begun to rip your high school mate a new one. “Ms. Kabamba,” you uttered with the coldest tone you could muster, a tone that Latrice knows all too well. A tone you only take with her when she knows she’s done something stupid, again.

“Sorry to disappoint,” a familiar voice broke you out of your rant. “Ms. Lee here. I heard we have plans?”

Damnit that cunt, I’ll deal with her later. You quickly composed yourself, “Never a disappointment, love. Any dietary restrictions?” You tried to mitigate your hoarse voice (from screaming ‘CUNNNNTTTTTT’ right before Latrice picked up the phone) and previously harsh tone by being as sweet as possible with your word choice, knowing that phone call rarely - if ever - made you sound more personable.

Love? Your husky delivery had the tall dancer flustered, trying to hide a blush taking form on her cheeks. Bada gulped, hard, and stumbled over her words, “N-no, I’m not picky. Where and when?” She tried to pass it off as cool and nonchalant, but Lusher seemed to have picked up on her change in tone.

“I’ll pick you up when you finish for the day? Latrice gave me their schedule.” Bada hummed over the phone, you can almost see her cute head bop as she does. Okay, dinner with Bada. One-on-one. I can do this, no biggie, fuck. “See you then, Love.”

Latrice gave Bada a parting hug when the call was over, the latter still bewildered by the unexpected call. “Thank you so, so much. You’re a life saver. Have fun later!” She quickly shuffled out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lusher peaked over the tall dancer’s shoulder, Bada’s cheeks still warm from the conversation. She gasped as the blonde slowly clasped her hands onto her face, letting out a small shriek. “Oh god Bada what was that all about?” The co-captain raised an eyebrow at her leader’s demeanour.

“Lusher, did you bring an extra outfit?” Was the first thing that came out of Bada’s mouth.

Y/N: You’re off the hook

Y/N: For now

Y/N: I will grill you afterwards 😇

Latrice: What a weird way to say thank u but ok

Latrice: ure welcome

When you pulled up in your bike, you did not expect the gorgeous specimen to be walking out the building in a skirt. You gulped and paused for a (significant) moment, marvelling at her (legs). Her hair sat perfectly, framing her face. She smiled and waved at you, walking (omg her legs) over with a small prance (her legs y’all). “Hey, thanks for picking me up.”

“God you look amazing.” After pulling yourself together, you realised a slight problem. “I am so sorry,” you quickly apologised, motioning her skirt (legs), “I did not plan accordingly.”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about these, tights underneath. My hair however, is a different story.”

Relieved, you handed her a helmet with a smile and hopped onto the bike, signalling her to get on. Bada giggled and straddled herself behind you, wrapping her hands around your waist. Both of you were suddenly very grateful for the helmets for keeping you road safe and hiding blushes. “You good?” You did one last check. Bada hummed and gave you a soft squeeze before you both rode off.

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf

[misfitwashere]

August 24, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

AUG 25

The raucous roll call of states at the 2024 Democratic National Convention on Tuesday, as everybody danced to DJ Cassidy’s state-themed music, Lil Jon strode down the aisle to cheers for Georgia, and different delegations boasted about their states and good-naturedly teased other delegations, brought home the real-life meaning of E Pluribus Unum, “out of many, one.” From then until Thursday, as a sea of American flags waved and attendees joyfully chanted “USA, USA, USA,” the convention welcomed a new vision for the Democratic Party, deeply rooted in the best of traditional America. 

Under the direction of President Joe Biden, over the past three and a half years the Democrats have returned to the economic ideology of the New Deal coalition of the 1930s. This week’s convention showed that it has now gone further, recentering the vision of government that President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s secretary of labor, Frances Perkins, called upon to make it serve the interests of communities.     

When the Biden-Harris administration took office in 2021, the United States was facing a deadly pandemic and the economic crash it had caused. The country also had to deal with the aftermath of the attempt of former president Donald Trump to overthrow the results of the 2020 presidential election and seize the presidency. It appeared that many people in the United States, as in many other countries around the world, had given up on democracy. 

Biden set out to prove that democracy could work for ordinary people by ditching the neoliberalism that had been in place for forty years. That system, begun in the 1980s, called for the government to allow unfettered markets to organize the economy. Neoliberalism’s proponents promised it would create widespread prosperity, but instead, it transferred more than $50 trillion from the bottom 90% of Americans to the top 1%. As the middle class hollowed out, those slipping behind lined up behind an authoritarian figure who promised to restore their former centrality by attacking those he told them were their enemies.

When he took office, Biden vowed to prove that democracy worked. With laws like the American Rescue Plan, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Act, the CHIPS and Science Act, and the Inflation Reduction Act, the Democrats directed investment toward ordinary Americans. The dramatic success of their economic program proved that it worked. On Wednesday, former president Bill Clinton noted that since 1989, the U.S. has created 51 million new jobs. Fifty million of those jobs were created under Democratic presidents, while only 1 million were added under Republicans—a striking statistic that perhaps will put neoliberalism, or at least the tired trope that Democrats are worse for the economy than Republicans, to bed. 

Vice President Kamala Harris’s nomination convention suggested a more thorough reworking of the federal government, one that also recalls the 1930s but suggests a transformation that goes beyond markets and jobs. 

Before Labor Secretary Perkins’s 1935 Social Security Act, the government served largely to manage the economic relationships between labor, capital, and resources. But Perkins recognized that the purpose of government was not to protect property; it was to protect the community. She recognized that children, women, and elderly and disabled Americans were as valuable to the community as young male workers and the wealthy men who employed them.

With a law that established a federal system of old-age benefits; unemployment insurance; aid to homeless, dependent, and neglected children; funds to promote maternal and child welfare; and public health services, Perkins began the process of molding the government to reflect that truth. 

Perkins’s understanding of the United States as a community reflected both her time in a small town in Maine and in her experience as a social worker in inner-city Philadelphia and Chicago before the law provided any protections for the workers, including children, who made the new factories profitable. She understood that while lawmakers focused on male workers, the American economy was, and always has been, utterly dependent on the unrecognized contributions of women and marginalized people in the form of childcare, sharing food and housing, and the many forms of unpaid work that keep communities functioning. 

This reworking of the American government to reflect community rather than economic

relationships changed the entire fabric of the country, and opponents have worked to destroy it ever since FDR began to put it in place. 

Now, in their quest to win the 2024 election, Vice President Kamala Harris and Minnesota governor Tim Walz—the Democratic nominees for president and vice president—have reclaimed the idea of community, with its understanding that everyone matters and the government must serve everyone, as the center of American life. 

Their vision rejects the division of the country into “us” and “them” that has been a staple of Republican politics since President Richard M. Nixon. It also rejects the politics of identity that has become identified with the argument that the United States has been irredeemably warped by racism and sexism. Instead, at the DNC, Democrats acknowledged the many ways in which the country has come up short of its principles in the past, and demanded that Americans do something to put in place a government that will address those inequities and make the American dream accessible to all.

Walz personifies this community vision. On Wednesday he laid it out from the very beginning of his acceptance speech, noting that he grew up in Butte, Nebraska, a town of 400 people, with 24 kids in his high school class. “[G]rowing up in a small town like that,” he said, “you'll learn how to take care of each other that that family down the road, they may not think like you do, they may not pray like you do, they may not love like you do, but they're your neighbors and you look out for them and they look out for you. Everybody belongs and everybody has a responsibility to contribute.” The football players Walz coached to a state championship joined him on stage.

Harris also called out this idea of community when she declined to mention that, if elected, she will be the first female president, and instead remembered growing up in “a beautiful working-class neighborhood of firefighters, nurses, and construction workers, all who tended their lawns with pride.” Her mother, Harris said, “leaned on a trusted circle to help raise us. Mrs. Shelton, who ran the daycare below us and became a second mother. Uncle Sherman. Aunt Mary. Uncle Freddy. And Auntie Chris. None of them, family by blood. And all of them, Family. By love…. Family who…instilled in us the values they personified. Community. Faith. And the importance of treating others as you would want to be treated. With kindness. Respect. And compassion.”

The speakers at the DNC called out the women who make communities function. Speaker after speaker at the DNC thanked their mother. Former first lady Michelle Obama explicitly described her mother, Marian Robinson, as someone who lived out the idea of hope for a better future, working for children and the community. Mrs. Obama described her mother as “glad to do the thankless, unglamorous work that for generations has strengthened the fabric of this nation.” 

Mrs. Obama, Harris, and Walz have emphasized that while they come from different backgrounds, they come from what Mrs. Obama called “the same foundational values”: “the promise of this country,” “the obligation to lift others up,” a “responsibility to give more than we take.”  Harris agreed, saying her mother “taught us to never complain about injustice. But…do something about it. She also taught us—Never do anything half-assed. That’s a direct quote.”

The Democrats worked to make it clear that their vision is not just the Democratic Party’s vision but an American one. They welcomed the union workers and veterans who have in the past gravitated toward Republicans, showing a powerful video contrasting Trump’s photo-ops, in which actors play union workers, with the actual plants being built thanks to money from the Biden-Harris administration. The many Democratic lawmakers who have served in the military stood on stage to back Arizona representative Ruben Gallego, a former Marine, who told the crowd that the veteran unemployment rate under Biden and Harris is the lowest in history. 

The many Republicans who spoke at the convention reinforced that the Democratic vision speaks for the whole country. Former representative Adam Kinzinger (R-IL) identified this vision as “conservative.” “As a conservative and a veteran,” he said “I believe true strength lies in defending the vulnerable. It’s in protecting your family. It’s in standing up for our Constitution and our democracy. That…is the soul of being a conservative. It used to be the soul of being a Republican,” Kinzinger said. “But Donald Trump has suffocated the soul of the Republican Party.” 

“[A] harm against any one of us is a harm against all of us,” Harris said. And she reminded people of her career as a prosecutor, in which “[e]very day in the courtroom, I stood proudly before a judge and said five words: ‘Kamala Harris, for the People.’ My entire career, I have only had one client. The People.”

“And so, on behalf of The People. On behalf of every American. Regardless of party. Race. Gender. Or the language your grandmother speaks. On behalf of my mother and everyone who has ever set out on their own unlikely journey. On behalf of Americans like the people I grew up with. People who work hard. Chase their dreams. And look out for one another. On behalf of everyone whose story could only be written in the greatest nation on Earth. I accept your nomination for President of the United States of America.”

The 100,000 biodegradable balloons that fell from the rafters when Vice President Harris accepted the Democratic nomination for president were blown up and tied by a team of 55 balloon artists from 18 states and Canada who volunteered to prepare the drop in honor of their colleague, Tommy DeLorenzo, who, along with his husband Scott, runs a balloon business. DeLorenzo is battling cancer. “We’re more colleagues than competitors,” Patty Sorell told Sydney Page of the Washington Post. “We all wanted to do something to help Tommy, to show him how much we love him.” 

“Words cannot express the gratitude I feel for this community,” DeLorenzo said.  

[stealthysteveharrington]

Eddie and Steve decide to get married in a courthouse ceremony with only Robin and Wayne present.

They would have liked to have the big ceremony and reception with all of their loved ones present, would have liked to take the time to save up and really plan out their day, but Steve told his parents about the engagement and was immediately cut off. And since he still works at his minimum wage job with Robin while he finishes up community college (he's considering applying to a 4 year school after for his bachelors, but it just feels so daunting still (Robin and Eddie will convince him eventually)), and with his history of chronic migraines and other various health issues, he really needed insurance. Luckily Eddie scored a mechanics job at a local dealership and gets pretty good benefits from it.

So an immediate courthouse wedding it is. They figure they can still do a big party later, when they've had the time to save and plan.

After the ceremony they stop by the towns Walmart to grab a wedding cake (Robin insists that some traditions can't be skipped. Eddie's always down for cake). The only suitable item they have left in stock is a six pack of Encanto cupcakes complete with little plastic rings.

They take them home and the four of them celebrate. Eddie and Steve trade plastic rings and wear them on their pinky fingers all night, next to their shiny new wedding bands.

Robin insists again that the last two cupcakes get frozen for their one year anniversary, like the top tier of a traditional wedding cake would.

They go to bed that night with the cupcakes in the freezer, the plastic rings in a place of honor, and the knowledge that they can now call each other "husband". And they think, their wedding was pretty perfect after all.