#The Presidents of the United States of America

[saywhat-politics]

Karoline Leavitt shocks as she tells press 'Jesus didn't have electricity either'

When answering a question about the tariff war going on between the United States and Canada, the White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt referred to Jesus Christ.

The youngest White House press secretary ever Karoline Leavitt - who is married to a man 32 years her senior - confused members of the press when answering a question for the Trump administration.

When asked about the tariff war between Canada and the United States after the prime minister of Canada said he would consider cutting off electricity to America if Donald Trump continues to impose tariffs, she referenced Jesus Christ.

"They want you to panic, but President Trump wants you to remember Jesus didn’t have electricity either and he did just fine," Leavitt said.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 6.1  chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  masterlist

nineteen

saturday, march 1st

"okay, ready?" ivy’s voice broke the quiet of the library, her sharp gaze narrowing as she held up the next flashcard. you nodded, settling your hands neatly in your lap, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders.

"main causes of the american revolution?" she asked, her tone brisk but encouraging.

"taxation without representation, british military presence, proclamation of 1763, and acts like the stamp act and tea act," you rattled off, your voice low but steady. she gave a quick nod, flipping to the next card with a satisfied mutter.

"what was the significance of the monroe doctrine?"

"it stated that european powers should not interfere in the western hemisphere and established u.s. influence in the americas," you answered, nodding slightly as if to confirm your own words. ivy hummed in approval, her eyes scanning the card before moving on.

"what triggered the united states’ entry into world war one?" she asked, her voice laced with expectation.

you opened your mouth, ready to reply, but the answer danced just out of reach. blinking, you sifted through your mental notes, coming up blank. "the…" you hesitated, brows furrowing as you scrambled to connect the dots. "the sinking of the lusitania?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

ivy nodded, her expression urging you on.

"oh!" the memory clicked into place. "the unrestricted submarine warfare by germany and the zimmerman telegram!" you finished with a triumphant grin.

"ten out of ten," ivy whispered, punching the air subtly in celebration.

"moreee! i need to get this information printed into my brain," you pleaded, leaning forward with an exaggerated look.

ivy gave you a pointed look, crossing her arms. "we’ve been at this since one, and it’s almost six," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a laugh. "i think we could both use a break."

“fine,” you reluctantly agree.

she stood, grabbing her bottle off the table. "i’m gonna refill this. we’ll pick it back up in five, okay?"

you sighed but nodded, watching as she walked toward the water fountain. the moment she was out of sight, you slid your notebook aside and switched over to your imessage conversation with rafe, your lips curving into a soft smile as you read over his last message.

a couple of seconds after you send your last text, your phone lights up with a facetime call from rafe. the ringing feels louder in the quiet library, and you scramble to answer before ivy—or worse, the librarian—shoots you a glare. the call connects, and the screen fills with rafe sitting in his car, the faint golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. he’s fiddling with his phone, adjusting it against the dashboard, the camera wobbling slightly before he settles it.

“—coming back?” a voice crackles faintly in the background, pulling rafe’s attention toward his window. his brow furrows, lips twitching in a mix of amusement and confusion.

“dude, you sound drunk,” rafe says with a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his seatbelt. his smile tugs at the corner of his lips, easy and familiar.

“i didn’t drink!” the voice protests indignantly, and rafe’s face twists with exaggerated disbelief as he glances toward the source.

“kelce,” he drawls, his tone dripping with mockery, “you had four corona lights.”

“there’s alcohol in corona lights?” kelce’s voice is so genuinely confused that you can’t help but snort quietly, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.

rafe hears it and turns to the camera, his grin widening at the sight of you laughing. his gaze lingers for a beat longer before he shakes his head and looks back at kelce. “kelce, back up. i’m about to drive off, and i actually can’t deal with you right now.”

“i thought they called it ‘light’ because there’s no alcohol in it!” kelce yells, his tone insistent, and rafe groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“you’re an idiot,” rafe mutters, throwing the car into reverse as kelce finally stumbles out of the way.

“are you sure he should be in our grade?” you tease, watching as rafe navigates out of the parking lot, the golden hour light catching in his hair and softening the edges of his jawline.

“no,” rafe deadpans, his eyes flicking toward the camera briefly. “i’m really not.”

your grin widens as you reach up to undo your claw clip, letting your hair fall loose around your shoulders. you shake it out slightly, the strands catching the soft light spilling through the windows. rafe’s gaze flickers back to the screen for a split second, his expression softening as his eyes follow the motion, but he quickly refocuses on the road ahead.

“what are you craving?” he asks casually, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped over the gear shift.

“what’s around?” you counter, leaning back in your chair, your voice playful as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressing into a stubborn line. “what are you craving?” he repeats, his tone insistent, though there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his expression.

“fine,” you relent with an exaggerated sigh, though a smile creeps onto your face. “chipotle? like, a bowl with rice, guac, chicken...” you lean your chin on your hand, practically drooling at the thought.

rafe hums, glancing at the GPS on his dash. “there’s one close. i could grab it and be at the library in, like, half an hour—assuming they don’t take forever.”

“perfect,” you murmur, already mentally calculating how much more studying you and ivy could squeeze in before the food arrived.

a few quiet moments pass, the hum of the car filling the space before rafe leans back in his seat at a red light. “so,” he starts, his voice casual but with a note of deliberation. “i was just with the boys, and they wanna come by mine later. my dad got this new grill, and they’re all obsessed with trying it out. my parents are gone for the weekend, and the girls are coming, too. you should come.”

the suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, and your chest tightens, a swirl of emotions tumbling through you. you hadn’t talked about the bonfire yet—the memory of him with adriana still lingered, raw and unresolved, and the image of their lips together was one you couldn’t quite shake, but you stupidly had been pushing it aside. you didn’t want to have this stupid conversation, didn’t want to risk anything breaking this beautiful little bubble you were both in. surely, there was an explanation—there had to be. so, just ask him.

maybe they used to have a thing? you honestly didn't really like to think about it all because the image alone upset you but if they did have a thing, it was probably over. right?

and the new girl every day thing had to be made up though the valentine's day letters did stir something up in you.

rafe was so gentle, so soft, so loving and caring. he could never treat girls as disposable as cora made it out to be.

“you could bring ivy,” he adds, his voice softening, his gaze hopeful. “i’ll drive her home after, and maybe you could sleep over?”

his words are casual, but the implication lingers in the space between you. you’d been waiting for the right occasion to finally have sex and his parents not being home? that seemed like the perfect time and place. your heart races. the idea of staying over—of finally taking that step—sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, but at the same time, you can’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head urging you to bring up the bonfire first.

you nod slowly, “can we—“

“bring me where?” ivy’s voice cuts through your words. you glance up to see her standing behind you, her curious gaze flicking between you and the phone.

“oh,” you say quickly, trying to gather your thoughts. “rafe’s hosting this small thing at his house, and he asked if you’d want to come.”

ivy slides into the seat beside you, resting her head on your shoulder so her face pops into the frame. “what kind of thing?” she asks, her question clearly directed at rafe.

"a..barbecue but it's not outside—alcohol, but you don't have to drink—ultra casual friends thing. i can drop you off at home too." rafe explains, his voice steady but warm.

ivy hesitates for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly before she relaxes with a shrug. “why not? i’ve never been to that kind of thing,” she says lightly, her tone curious.

she turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “we can go, right?”

you glance between her and rafe, feeling the weight of their gazes. finally, you nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “yeah, we can go. rafe’s bringing us chipotle first,” you add, your tone brightening.

ivy’s eyes light up as she leans toward the phone. “wait, don’t joke with me. are you really getting us food?”

rafe chuckles, his voice warm and teasing. “yeah. what do you want?”

“hold on, i need my phone!” ivy scrambles, rummaging through her bag, and you laugh, shaking your head. “she has a very specific chipotle order,” you explain, already typing it out. “it’s easier if i just text it to you.”

rafe smirks, clearly entertained, but he doesn’t argue. a few minutes later, after you send the details, you’re subjected to twenty-eight excruciating minutes of ivy glancing toward the hallway every few seconds, her anticipation palpable. yes, you counted.

when rafe finally walks in, bags in hand, ivy practically leaps out of her seat. “you’re god-sent,” she declares dramatically, clutching the food like it’s a lifeline before digging in with record speed. you can’t help but laugh, your chest warming at the sight of her excitement and rafe’s quiet amusement.

rafe strolled over to you, his hands extended, palms up. you tilted your head, curious, before slipping your hands into his. his grip was warm and steady as he pulled you to your feet, and before you could say anything, he looped your arms around his neck. his hands settled lightly on your waist, and then he dipped his head to kiss you. it was slow and gentle, the kind of kiss that left you dizzy, though you fought to keep yourself grounded, sighing softly against his lips as he pulled you deeper into the moment.

“missed you, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he pulled back just enough that your breaths mingled between you.

“i missed you,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper before you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. his grin was soft but immediate, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as his hands slid lower to steady you.

“thanks for the food,” you said, glancing briefly toward ivy, who was blissfully absorbed in her chipotle bowl, completely oblivious to the exchange.

rafe followed your gaze, chuckling under his breath. “no need to thank me.” he stepped back and dropped into the chair you’d been sitting in, only to tug you down onto his knee.

you settled against him, adjusting slightly to get comfortable. “you always tell me not to thank you,” you said with mock exasperation, tilting your head to look at him. “that’s really rude, you know? who doesn’t say thank you?”

he pulled a bag from beside his chair and started unpacking it, his movements casual. “you don’t need to thank me for things that go without saying,” he replied simply, not looking up.

you hummed thoughtfully, the familiar spark of debate flaring in your chest. “i get what you’re saying, but i think some things do need acknowledgment. like, i agree there are certain actions that people do in relationships—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—that don’t need constant recognition. but still, a little appreciation never hurts. like when my parents put food on the table—it’s their job, sure, but i still say thank you because it shows I value their effort. it’s about gratitude, not obligation.”

rafe placed your bowl in front of you, a fork and napkin neatly folded beside it. “i get that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you dug into your food. “but i think a lot of things are just part of being in someone’s life. like, it’s not a task or a burden for me to do something for you. it’s automatic—like brushing my teeth. you don’t thank someone for brushing their teeth, do you? it’s just… normal.”

you chewed slowly, considering his point, before shifting on his knee to face him better. the bowl rested on your lap as you studied his expression. “that’s an interesting perspective,” you said finally, nodding a little. “but i’m still going to say thank you.”

his lips curved into a soft smirk as he raked his fingers through his hair. “and i’m still going to tell you not to.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. picking up the flashcards from the table, you plopped them into his hands. “fine, if you won’t accept my thanks, you can at least make yourself useful. quiz me.”

rafe huffed dramatically as he fanned through the colorful cards. “wow, i’m really just a tool to you, huh?”

from across the table, ivy piped up between bites of her food, her voice dripping with dry humor. “not just a tool, also a bank card.”

rafe’s laughter was immediate, shaking his head as he glanced at you.

“okay,” he said, flipping to the first card with a grin. “what was the purpose of the patriot act?”

you don’t linger too long at the library—just long enough for you and ivy to finish your food. once the bowls are empty and the conversation fades, rafe gathers you both and drives you home so you can drop off your bags and check in with your parents. the plan is simple: tell them you’re sleeping over at ivy’s, grab a few essentials, and head out again.

once inside, you catch a whiff of the lingering chipotle smell on your clothes, and it’s enough to make you grimace. after a quick change into fresh, comfortable clothes, and brushing your teeth to erase the last traces of cilantro-lime rice, you’re back in rafe’s car.

he’s quiet when you slide into the passenger seat, his head down as he types something on his phone. the faint glow illuminates a frown etched into his features. you buckle your seatbelt and glance at him, concern stirring. “you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t look up or respond, his focus still glued to his screen.

“rafe?” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time. his head snaps up, eyes meeting yours as if pulled from deep thought.

“hmm?” he hums, blinking.

“are you okay?” you repeat, studying him closely.

he exhales, the frown softening but not entirely disappearing. “yeah,” he says quietly, slipping his phone onto the console. “just… haven’t heard much from sarah lately. i’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

you nod, your hand brushing against his arm in a small, reassuring gesture. “i’m sure she’s fine. maybe reach out to your aunt in the morning, just to check in? but it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

his lips quirk into a faint smile as he nods. “yeah, you’re probably right. i’ll text her tomorrow.”

ivy clambers into the back seat, breaking the moment, and soon rafe is pulling out of your driveway. the car hums softly, the headlights cutting through the dark as ivy peppers rafe with questions about anything and everything that pops into her head. her curiosity is endless.

you smile faintly at their banter, but your mind drifts, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. it wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the thought of being around rafe’s friends again brought a weight to your chest. the last time had ended badly, leaving you walking home alone in the dark, tears blurring your vision.

time had passed since that night, though, and things were different now. rafe had been nothing but perfect—kind, attentive, funny, the kind of person who made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. your parents adored him, your friends approved, and he had done nothing to make you doubt his feelings. it should be fine. everything should be fine. but still, a flicker of unease clung to you.

you’d talk to him tonight, when everyone left. that was the only quiet moment you’d get.

“you okay?” ivy’s voice broke through your thoughts as you approached rafe’s front door.

you glanced at her, startled, and nodded quickly. “yeah, of course. why?”

she studied you for a moment, her brow furrowed. “you just seem a little… nervous.”

“nope, not nervous,” you said with a forced smile, shaking your head as if to convince yourself as much as her.

she didn’t press further, but the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes as you both stepped inside behind rafe.

the faint murmur of voices floated from the living room, punctuated by occasional laughter, as you crossed the foyer. the sound made your stomach tighten, but you squared your shoulders and followed rafe’s lead, determined to make it through the evening.

"rafe! there you are, i seriously need—" kiara's voice echoed down the stairs but stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on you and ivy. her surprised expression melted into a wide, welcoming smile. "hey! you came!" she exclaimed, practically skipping down the last few steps.

jj was close behind her, bounding down the stairs like a golden retriever before leaping onto rafe’s back in a chaotic greeting. rafe stumbled forward slightly, muttering something about jj needing a leash, but you were too focused on kiara approaching you and ivy.

"hey, kiara," you said warmly, gesturing toward your friend. "this is ivy."

ivy offered a polite smile and a small wave. "hi, nice to meet you."

"i’m kiara," she said, grinning at the both of you. "so glad you came." without missing a beat, she looped an arm through yours and started tugging you forward. jj threw a quick, cheerful “hi” your way before he and rafe disappeared behind the corner.

"since you don’t drink, i got you something special!" kiara announced with an excited sparkle in her eyes. she practically beamed as she gestured toward the kitchen island, where cleo and pope were deep in the throes of concocting something that resembled a science experiment more than a drink.

pope held up a glass, swirling it like a sommelier, while cleo smirked beside him, her fingers busy mixing something else.

"look!" kiara reached for a six-pack of sleek, colorful cans and held them up like a prized trophy. you stared at them, blinking in confusion.

"they’re virgin mojitos!" she said proudly, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.

it clicked a moment later, and you couldn’t help but smile. "so, i can kind of pretend i’m drinking the same as you guys? how thoughtful!" you laugh and kiara nods.

"of course! no one gets left out here," she said with a grin.

pope had already grabbed one of the cans, cracking it open with a flourish and pouring its contents into a glass. he added some questionable-looking ingredients from the assortment on the counter, finishing it off with a dramatic sprinkle of sugar.

"boom!" pope declared, sliding the drink toward you. "virgin cocktails à la cleo and pope. tell me that’s not perfection."

with cautious determination, you took a small sip. immediately, your face scrunched up as the overpowering sweetness hit you. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow without gagging.

"oh my god," you croaked, handing the glass to ivy, who was already laughing at your reaction.

ivy hesitated, then took a brave sip herself. the second the liquid touched her tongue, her eyes went wide, and she practically spat it back into the glass. "oh, god! what is that? did you dump an entire bag of sugar in here?"

pope and cleo were doubled over with laughter, clearly amused by your suffering.

as ivy hunted for water, muttering something about "instant diabetes," john b strolled into the kitchen, eyebrow raised. "guys, seriously? already throwing up?"

ivy, still laughing through her sputtering, waved him off as she grabbed a glass of water. "i think i just shaved ten years off my life," she mumbled dramatically, taking long gulps.

cleo crossed her arms, looking offended. "you two clearly don’t appreciate our craftsmanship."

"yeah," pope added, nodding in agreement. "this is an art form."

you glanced at kiara, who was biting her lip to hold back laughter. your shared look was enough to set both of you off.

you weave through the place, scanning for rafe in the sea of familiar faces, but he’s nowhere in sight. a few steps in, you collide with jj, his lazy grin revealing he's had more than just a few drinks. "hello," he greets, his voice light and teasing.

"hi," you reply, smiling politely, though his glassy eyes and slight sway make you wonder if he’s entirely steady on his feet.

you glance back to see him watching pope and cleo, who are hunched over the kitchen counter, laughing as they concoct a drink that looks less like a cocktail and more like a dare. jj turns back to you, ignoring your question entirely. "looking for rafe?" he asks, his tone casual.

"yeah," you nod, and his grin widens.

"i’ll take you to him." before you can protest, he drapes an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the garden.

outside, the air is cooler, and the faint glow of string lights illuminates the yard. rafe stands by the grill with topper and cora. topper is manning the grill, flipping meat with practiced ease, while cora plates the freshly cooked food. rafe, on the other hand, leans casually against the table, contributing absolutely nothing.

"rafe! i brought you a peace offering," jj announces with exaggerated theatrics, gripping your shoulders and nudging you forward.

"peace offering?" you echo, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance between jj and rafe.

rafe’s brows lift as he looks at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. "oh, yes. a peace offering because jackson here threw up on my carpet yesterday," he says dryly.

jj lets out an indignant noise, ducking as rafe chucks a nearby towel at his head. "dude! i cleaned it up, and you love me, so stop holding grudges and just forgive me already."

jj moves toward the table, hand reaching for a freshly grilled sausage, but cora smacks his fingers without missing a beat. "it just came off the grill, idiot. you’ll burn yourself."

"you didn’t clean it up," topper chimes in, laughing. "you wiped it. there’s a difference. he’s gonna have to get the carpet professionally cleaned."

"and who’s paying for that?" rafe asks, his tone pointed as he slides an arm around your waist.

jj shrugs, lips pressing together in mock thought. "your rich-ass parents," he answers shamelessly.

"or yours," rafe counters, raising a brow.

jj grimaces, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth before mumbling, "my dad hasn’t given me a dime since i took his lambo for that little joyride."

"you didn’t even crash it. what’s the issue?" kelce’s voice cuts in as he steps out from the house, joining the growing group.

their conversation continues, laughter and banter spilling into the cool night air. but your focus shifts, the voices fading into the background. you can feel cora’s eyes on you, her gaze heavy and assessing. instead of meeting her stare, you focus on the comforting warmth of rafe beside you, the way his chest rumbles when he laughs, the scent of his cologne grounding you. you twist one of his fingers absently, letting the small act ease your nerves.

after a few moments, you lean closer to rafe. "i’m gonna go get a drink," you murmur softly.

his attention snaps to you, his blue eyes searching yours. "you good?" he asks, concern flickering across his face.

you nod quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. "uh-huh. you want anything?"

"whatever beer’s in the fridge," he replies, and you nod, brushing a kiss against his cheek before heading back toward the house.

as you step inside, the warmth and noise envelop you again, and your gaze lands on adriana making her entrance. she glides through with a confidence that borders on arrogance, her knowing smile is a little unsettling and when she catches your eye, her expression twists into something mocking, though she doesn’t say a word. instead, she brushes past you, heading straight for the garden—and for rafe.

you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to shake off the unease bubbling in your chest. moving toward the kitchen, you find ivy perched at the island, her laughter mingling with the chatter of kiara, cleo, pope, and john b.

you rest your chin on ivy’s shoulder, your voice soft as you ask, "you good?"

she turns to you, her smile bright and reassuring. "very good. you?"

the question is simple, but the answer feels anything but. you hesitate, searching for the right words, though none seem to fit. "yeah," you say finally, forcing a smile. it’s what you should say because nothing is wrong. but deep down, something feels off. something you can’t quite place.

the whole evening, you kept waiting for something to go wrong. you could feel it hovering like a storm cloud, an almost tangible weight pressing on your chest. but nothing happened. cora and adriana barely acknowledged you, and rafe’s friends were as welcoming and warm as the first time you’d met them. you ate, you laughed, and for a moment, you almost believed the night could stay perfect.

but then you glanced at the clock—nine p.m.—and instinctively reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. you patted the other one, frowning as the absence unsettled you. rafe, ever attentive, noticed immediately.

“do you know where my phone is?” you asked him, voice light despite the knot forming in your stomach.

he paused, thoughtful. “in your jacket? jackets are on my bed upstairs. want me to grab it?”

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “no, that’s okay.” before he could respond, you were already moving, eager to retrieve it yourself.

the familiar grey door to his room was ajar, and inside, a mountain of jackets sprawled across his bed. you rifled through them, finally locating yours. slipping your phone from the pocket, you glanced at the screen. just a couple of messages—school group chats and your mom wishing you a good night.

you were still typing a reply to your mom when you turned and gasped, startled to find yourself face-to-face with adriana.

“adriana, hi.” your voice wavered as you took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest.”

“hey, teach.” she smiled and took a strand of your hair, flicking it between her fingers. “isn’t he great with his fingers?”

you frowned. “what?” the word barely escaped your lips before they continued.

“didn’t i tell you next time, it’d be you?” cora mused, from behind her, her usual saccharine smile firmly in place. "right as always."

“listen,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady as you shifted to step past them, “i don’t want any problems with either of you. if there’s a problem with rafe, you should really just talk to him.” the words felt forced, but you hoped they’d end this confrontation.

cora chuckled, the sound low and condescending. “there is no problem with rafe,” she said breezily. “that’s what we’re trying to tell you. no girl has ever had any complaints.”

“this says as much,” adriana chimed in, and your stomach dropped as you turned to see her holding a stack of letters. valentine’s day letters. rafe’s valentine’s day letters.

your chest tightened painfully. “those are just crushes,” you said quickly, your voice firmer now. “they don’t mean anything.”

“really?” cora tilted her head, her brows arching in mock curiosity. “well, i’m curious.”

you had no interest in entertaining their games, so you moved to leave, muttering, “okay, you two have fun. i’m gonna go.”

but adriana grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a laugh that grated against your nerves. “no, no, hold on, teach!” she sang, flipping open one of the letters with deliberate glee.

“this one’s good,” she began, her voice dripping with amusement. she cleared her throat. “‘rafey, the other night was so fun. i left you a little gift in your sock drawer. same time, next friday? love, lexi.’”

next friday? had he really been seeing girls while he was seeing you?

your breath caught as cora, with a sickening familiarity, moved to the dresser. she opened the drawer without hesitation, rummaging through the neatly folded socks until she produced something bright red.

“and would you look at that?” cora said, holding up a pair of red lace panties. “pretty sexy.”

“wait, those are actually cute,” adriana giggled, inspecting them like they were a trophy. “wonder where she got them.”

you stared at the fabric dangling from her fingers, the blood draining from your face. this had to be manipulation. some twisted attempt to mess with you. but then, why did he have those panties?

cora snatched another letter, her grin widening. “okay, another one! ‘remember our beach day? you said you love me. can’t stop thinking about you. happy valentine’s day. s.’”

you felt a sharp sting behind your eyes, and when cora turned to you, her expression almost pitying, the first tear slipped free. you aggressively wiped it away.

“she’s so sweet! isn’t she sweet?” she taunted, and her gaze made something inside you snap.

you clutched your jacket tightly, desperate to leave, but adriana wasn’t finished. “hold on, teach!” she laughed, grabbing yet another letter. “this one’s even better! ‘i still remember when you took my v-card in the back of your car—‘“

no no no.

no.

your heart strings pulled tightly and you stopped listening. you shoved past adriana, the world around you blurring as tears filled your vision.

you felt a hand grip your arm and tug you back. “hey?” cora’s ‘concerned’ face, “we’re just trying to help you. i’m a girl’s girl, y/n. i just don’t want to see you get hurt since clearly you aren’t smart enough to see through him yourself.”

you tugged your arm away and behind you, their laughter echoed like a cruel melody. “how sad,” adriana laughed, her voice chasing you down the hallway as your chest heaved with silent, choked sobs.

you rush down the stairs, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the pounding in your ears. tears blur your vision, and the lump in your throat feels like it’s choking you. you don’t stop, you can’t stop. your heart is in free fall, shattering with every breath. you dart past rafe's friends, kiara's concerned look, topper saying something you don't quite catch, their faces a blur, until you find ivy.

her eyes meet yours instantly, wide with concern, like she can sense the storm inside you. “i’m gonna go,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling. before you can say another word, she’s at your side, her hand brushing against your arm. “y/n?”

rafe is suddenly there too, his brows furrowed, confusion etched into his face. “y/n, baby?” his voice is soft but urgent, and when he reaches for your wrist, you yank it away, shaking your head violently.

“what's wrong, talk to me?” he pleads, moving to block your path. his blue eyes are frantic, clouded with worry, the same eyes you adored only minutes ago. now all you could think about was how you sat in his car, the same car he used to bring you to the retirement home, the one he used to pick you up and take you to school, the one where you'd laughed the most you'd ever laughed and you'd kissed him over and over. the same car you'd given him your first freaking blowjob in was the same car he used to take some girl's virginity and who knows who else's? yours was next. clearly.

“please, just let me g-go.” your voice cracks, trembling with barely-contained sobs as you try to push past him because the thoughts of 'next friday' won't leave you. the picture of him with another girl right after your seeing you or even right before. who knows?

rafe doesn’t let up. his hands find your arms, his grip firm but careful, his touch begging you to stay. “what happened? y/n, please—please talk to me,” he implores, his voice breaking as he tries to steady you, to calm you and it feels like such bullshit, it all feels like a slap in the face and it feels like being deceived and betrayed and you can’t think, don’t care about all the eyes on you, watching you cry—you can’t care because you have this ugly picture playing in your head of him sleeping with girls after touching you and kissing you and him telling a girl he loves her and that girl isn’t you. that girl is not you. it was never you. it all sort of becomes clear. this illusion, dream-like state that you refused to burst out of because of how blissful it felt was really just that, a far-fetched dream.

“don’t touch me! stop!” you cry, your voice rising, panic taking over.

adriana’s voice slices through the tension like a blade, smooth and cruel. “you should leave her alone, rafe. i think she’s had enough.”

his head snaps toward her, his body stiffening. “what? what did you say to her? what the fuck did you two do?” his voice is sharp, his tone teetering on the edge of fury as he glares at adriana and cora.

cora shrugs, her smile dripping with feigned innocence. “we? we didn’t say anything to her. your many, many conquests, though? they were a lot more talkative.”

you watch as the words register, as rafe freezes, his anger shifting to something like dread. his gaze swings back to you, wide and pleading. “you read the letters?” he whispers.

you don’t answer. the tears in your eyes say enough. they won’t stop, pouring down your cheeks as you stare at him, your chest heaving with sobs you can’t control. his momentary hesitation gives you just enough time to slip out of his grasp, to make a desperate break for the door.

“no! no, wait—” his voice is desperate, and his hand finds your wrist again, pulling you into his chest. his grip trembles as much as his voice. “it’s not true—” he stammers, then falters. “well, it’s—i swear, i promise, the moment this became real, the moment i realised you didn't just see me as a friend, i was yours. you know me,” he pleads, his words rushing together, his forehead pressing against yours in a futile attempt to anchor you. “look at me, baby. look at me. you know me.” he begs.

you don’t wipe the tears away. there’s no point. they fall faster than you can stop them, burning hot trails down your cheeks. “is that you? a new girl every couple of days? you—” your voice cracks, broken and raw, “you told a girl you love her?"” the words feel like poison on your tongue, and you pray, beg silently for him to deny it, to give you anything to make this nightmare go away.

“you took another girl’s virginity… in your car?” the words taste bitter on your tongue, your voice breaking on the last syllable. your chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.

you try to pull away from him, to rip yourself from his grasp, but his fingers cling desperately to you. the nausea rises so violently you think you might actually throw up.

rafe’s head shakes frantically, his own eyes filling with tears, the panic setting in. “i don’t—i don’t have the best track record, i know that! but you—you brought out the best in me. i know i fucked up, i know the shit i did wasn’t okay, but i’m sorry,” he pleads, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

you barely hear him. your pulse is roaring in your ears, your vision blurring with tears.

“do you remember her name?” you whisper. your voice is so quiet, so fragile, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

his breath catches. his whole body goes still, like he doesn’t understand the question. his blue eyes dart across your face, searching desperately for something—an out, an answer, a way to fix this.

“what…?” his voice is hoarse.

you swallow back a sob, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “you were her first,” you repeat, and your voice is deadly soft now. “do you even remember her name?”

the silence that follows is unbearable.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t even breathe for three whole seconds.

and that’s all it takes.

your stomach lurches. a cold, sickening wave crashes over you, and suddenly his hands on you feel wrong, like they’re scorching your skin, leaving burns behind.

“no, please—please, baby, don’t—” rafe’s voice is raw, wrecked. he reaches for you again, his hands desperate, his entire body pleading, but you stumble back, chest heaving, tears slipping down your face in hot, relentless streams.

he chokes on a breath. his whole face is crumbling, his own tears spilling over now, but you can’t bear to look at him. you can’t breathe around the ache in your chest, around the betrayal weighing down your limbs like lead.

“oh, god..” you shake your head, wrenching yourself out of his arms. “no, please, please.” he tries to pull you close, tries to get you to look at him. “baby—“

“no. no, please, stop. let me go,” you beg him, your voice shaking as you push him away, desperate to escape.

“no, y/n, please—please don’t go,” he begs, his hands reaching for you again, trembling with desperation. “i’m so sorry. i swear, i swear on everything, i’m not that person anymore. i can't lose you. you know me!”

but you can’t listen. you can’t hear another word, not when your heart is breaking like this. the air feels too heavy, the walls too close, and all you know is that you need to get out of this house.

you yank the front door open, but your escape halts when you see her—sarah cameron, standing there with a suitcase in hand. even through the haze of your tears, you recognize her.

“sur…prise,” she says hesitantly, her eyes darting between you, rafe, and the onlookers scattered around the foyer. the scene before her—a girl sobbing uncontrollably, rafe pleading, their friends frozen in stunned silence—leaves her wide-eyed and unsure.

you only look at her for a fleeting moment before stepping past her, out into the cold night. rafe’s voice carries after you, cracking with disbelief. “sarah?”

ivy’s hand slips into yours as she catches up, her grip warm and grounding. you squeeze it tightly, the tears still flowing, unstoppable and endless, as you walk away.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

a.n — um ya.. what IM surprised abt is that she was gonna let him hit it when he hasnt even made it official..? girl? standardsss??

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @kinderwh0r3 @wintercrows @magicalflowerstranger @bigjuli444 @singlethreadofivy @stylestarkey

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[zerofragileteethmachine]

i was raised really conservatively in a very controlling religion so i don’t know the answer to this very well, but im absolutely fed up with the state of my country right now. all i want to ask is:

how can i help?

what can i do that will help make a big change in the right direction?

what can i do to make sure im supporting people and not cowering or running or letting those in power toy with people for their narrative?

[lindseyarchive]

[affairsmastery]

Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has urged Google to reconsider renaming the Gulf of Mexico as the "Gulf of America," following an executive order by US President Donald Trump. The change applies only to US-based users, while the historical name remains elsewhere.

Mexico argues the US cannot unilaterally rename an international water body beyond its territorial waters. Google defended its practice of following official government sources but has yet to respond to Mexico’s concerns. Playfully, Sheinbaum quipped that Mexico might request its own renaming—suggesting "Mexican America" as a counterpoint to the move.

[ravenkings]

not to continually post about politics but i think the thing that pisses me off the most about trump 2.0 is fucking elon musk. like i hate trump as much as the next person but he's somewhat predictable in his evil stupidity and, for better or for worse, the citizens of the united states of america did in fact elect him to be president. he's also honestly only as effective as the people around him since he has the brain of a nasty child and will wholeheartedly believe whatever the last person who spoke to him said.

elon musk, however, is literally the DEFINITION of an unelected bureaucrat. this fucker made most of his criminally large fortune on federal subsidies for his bullshit techy fantasies that never came to fruition and now, since the us constitution literally bars him from ever running for president since he was not born on us soil, he bought off trump and thus has been given carte blanche to do whatever tf he wants, even attempting to access unbelievably sensitive data like every us citizen's SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER for whatever fucked up purpose he has. like the right can bitch and moan about george soros and bill gates or whatever but i would bet the farm that NEITHER OF THEM as private citizens have ever attempted to access that sort of highly sensitive data or do frankly even half of what musk is trying to do now. that man is a fucking parasite on both the federal government and american civil society and now he's trying to influence politics in OTHER countries where he isn't even a citizen! like i think i loathe him more than any other maga dipshit (besides maybe peter thiel)!!!!

[mariacallous]

For much of living memory, the United States has been a global leader of scientific research and innovation. From the polio vaccine, to decoding the first human chromosome, to the first heart bypass surgery, American research has originated a seemingly endless list of health care advances that are taken for granted.

But when the Trump administration issued a memorandum Monday that paused all federal grants and loans—with the aim of ensuring that funding recipients are complying with the president’s raft of recent executive orders—US academia ground to a halt. Since then, the freeze has been partially rescinded for some sectors, but it largely remains in place for universities and research institutions across the country, with no certainty of what comes next.

“This has immediate impact on people’s lives,” says J9 Austin, professor of psychiatry and medical genetics at the University of British Columbia. “And it’s terrifying.”

The funding freeze requires agencies to submit reviews of their funded programs to the Office of Management and Budget by February 10. The freeze follows separate orders issued last week to US health agencies—including to the National Institutes of Health, which leads the country’s medical research—to pause all communications until February 1 and stop almost all travel indefinitely.

The confusion is consummate. If the funding freeze continues through February, and even beyond, how will graduate students be paid? Should grant applications—years long in the writing—still be submitted by the triannual grant submission deadline on February 5? What does this mean for clinical trials if participants and lab techs can’t be paid? Will all that research have to be scrapped thanks to incomplete data?

Even if Trump fully reverses the freeze on research funding, the damage, multiple sources say, has been done. Although for now the funding freeze is temporary, the administration has shown how it might wield the levers of government. The implication is that withdrawing funding could be done more permanently, and could be done to individual institutions, individual organizations, both private and public. This won’t just set a precedent for the large East Coast or West Coast universities, but those located in both red and blue states alike.

While always an imperfect arrangement, science in the US is largely funded by a complex system of grant applications, reviews by peers in the field (both of which have had to be halted as part of the communications pause), and the competitive distribution of NIH funds, says Gerald Keusch, emeritus professor of medicine at Boston University and former associate director of international research for the NIH. According to its website, the NIH disburses nearly $48 billion in grants per year.

When it comes to medical research, America truly is first, and if it abdicates that position, the void left behind has global ramifications. “In Canada, we have always looked to NIH as an exemplar of what we should be trying to do,” says Austin, speaking to me independently of any roles and affiliations. “Now, that’s collapsed.”

Science is, in its very nature, collaborative. Many consortiums and alliances within scientific fields cross borders and language barriers. Some labs may be able to find additional funding from alternative sources such as the European Union. But it is unlikely that a continued withdrawal of NIH funding could be plugged by overseas support. And Big Pharma, with its seemingly endless funds, is unlikely to step up either, according to sources WIRED spoke with.

“This can’t be handed off to drug companies or biotech, because they’re not interested in things that are as preclinical as a lot of the work we’re discussing here,” says a professor of genetics who agreed to speak anonymously out of fear of retribution. “Essentially, there’s a whole legion of university-based scientists who work super damn hard to try to figure out some basic stuff that eventually becomes something that a drug company can drop $100 million on.”

The millions of dollars awarded to high-achieving labs is used to fund graduate students, lab techs, and analysts. If the principal investigator on a research team is unsuccessful in obtaining a grant through the process Keusch describes, often that lab is closed, and those ancillary team members lose their jobs.

One of the potential downstream effects of an NIH funding loss, even if only temporary, is a mass domestic brain drain. “Many of those people are going to go out to find something else to do,” the professor of genetics says. “These are just like jobs for anything else—we can’t not pay people for a month. What would the food service industry be like, for example, or grocery stores, if they don’t pay somebody for a month? Their workers will leave, and pharma can only hire so many people.”

WIRED heard over and over, from scientists too fearful for their teams and their jobs to speak on the record, that it won’t take long for the impact to reach the general population. With a loss of research funding comes the closure of hospitals and universities. And gains in medical advancement will likely falter too.

Conditions being studied with NIH funding are not only rare diseases affecting 1 or 2 percent of the population. They’re problems such as cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer’s—issues that affect your grandmother, your friends, and so many people who will one day fall out of perfect health. It’s thanks to this research system, and the scientists working within it, that doctors know how to save someone from a heart attack, regulate diabetes, lower cholesterol, and reduce the risk of stroke. It’s how the world knows that smoking isn’t a good idea. “All of that is knowledge that scientists funded by the NIH have generated, and if you throw this big of a wrench in it, it’s going to disrupt absolutely everything,” says the genetics professor.

While some are hopeful that the funding freeze for academia could end on February 1, when the pause on communications and therefore grant reviews is slated to lift, the individuals WIRED spoke with are largely skeptical that work will simply resume as before.

“When the wheels of government stop, it’s not like they turn on a dime and they just start up again,” says Julie Scofield, a former executive director of NASTAD, a US-based health nonprofit. She adds that she has colleagues in Washington, DC, who have had funding returned to their fields, and yet remain unable to access payment through the management system.

Austin says that already the international scientific community is holding hastily arranged online support groups. Topics covered range from the banal—what the most recent communication from the White House implies—to how best to protect trainees and the many students on international visas. But mostly they’re there to provide support.

“I’ve had a lot of messages from people just expressing gratitude that we could actually get together,” Austin says. “There’s just so much unaddressable need. None of us has the answers.”

Scientists, perhaps more than any other profession, are trained to “learn and validate conclusions drawn from observation and experimentation,” says Keutsch. That applies to the current situation. And what they observe during this pause of chaos does not portend well for the future of the United States as a pinnacle of scientific excellence.

“If people want the United States to head toward being a second-class nation, this is exactly what to do. If the goal is, in fact, to make America great, this is not a way to do it,” says the genetics professor. “This is not a rational, thoughtful, effective thing to do. It will merely destroy.”

This story has been written under a pseudonym, as the reporter has specific and credible concerns about potential retaliation.

[darkeagleruins]

USAID essentially functions as one of many money laundering machines for Democrats in DC.

Here’s how it works:

• Activists create obscure NGO

• Dems fund it lavishly

• NGO does bare minimum (or actively hurts the United States)

• Activists get paid and donate to Dems

Not only that but USAID helped spread their gender ideology nonsense and brought millions of illegals into our country.

That’s why Democrats are freaking out about the possibility that USAID’s being shut down by President Trump.

It needs to be done. Has anything good ever come out of USAID? Sure but we don’t have the money to be the world’s piggy bank and they’ve been an overall disaster that works harder to prop up left wing NGO’s than they do to help people.

America voted to end this farce.

[onlytiktoks]

https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/mexican-president-orders-retaliatory-tariffs-against-us-2025-02-02/

[diavolaangelica]

This is what happens when you elect corruption. You fell for his bullshit and now you are in the hot pot with the rest of us. If you think this targeting of all illegals for deportation is not going to have real economic consequences, think again. America's dirty little secret of their love affair for cheap non retaliatory labor that they don't have to pay properly or give benefits to is what is costing Americans jobs... not the illegal. It's greed. Do you know the other acronym for "FEMA" when disaster hits? "Find Every Mexican Available." Who do you think rebuilds this country when disaster hits? Who do you think has had a long history of sending their military here to help too? Any guesses? Mexico! If you want to start blaming the Mexicans for everything wrong in this country then you need to take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself if you aren't part of the problem too, because you blindly believe everything bad you've heard from those abhorrent politicians who have only one mission today... distract you from the ugly shit they are actually doing to this country. The opioid crisis didn't start in Mexico, it started right here in the united states with big pharma pushing their highly addictive drugs on people. Doctors were paid to prescribe Oxycontin, so they were handing it out like candy. People really need to start aiming their ire toward the greedy bastards that have no real interest in the American people or how we get by, because all they want is to line their pockets any way they can. I know many of you think you want all the illegals out, but I wonder, if you hate them so much, why do you love their food so much and why the fuck do you celebrate Cinco de Mayo? When I was in college, I was working in grocery store deli. It was a big chain back then. I don't remember who was in office at the time, but I remember local news casters warning people to stay away from places where large groups of people congregated like the mall, shopping areas, and farmers market, because immigration was out picking people up. I remember going to work one day and they had a big ass light navy green and white immigration bus that looked like a prison bus parked in the parking lot to try and snatch people up. The raids didn't last very long and in that month, the grocery store took a big hit due to lack of customers, overtime paid to people who came to work to fill the void for employees who were not coming to work out of fear they would be arrested even though they were legal, and loss of product that couldn't be sold before expiration. The shit Trump is doing right now has real economic consequences, you may ]not see it right now, but you will... we all will, and it's not going to be good. He's already started off on the wrong foot, and of course he is incapable of the slightest empathy for the victim's family members of the plane crash, instead he would like to blame Obama and Biden... someone needs to remind him the HE is the one at the helm it is his responsibility and his duty to take accountability. Or should we be asking the neo-nazi shadow president Elon Musk to take accountability? Other people are writing his executive orders and he's just signing them. He is absolutely clueless of half the shit he is agreeing to right now, because he doesn't read shit and he doesn't want to hear shit, he'd rather be golfing... but let's just keep pumping out those meme coin scams.. for those who have lost all on his coin keep this in mind, 80% of the money made off that coin went directly to him... that is almost unheard of in the crypto scam scene. Usually it's lower because it's spread out between many people... but I digress... tldr we are fucked!

The First Felon could never be hired. DEI standards laugh at reject hacks like Trump.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ben Blanchet at HuffPost:

Sen. Raphael Warnock (R-Ga.) on Thursday called out Republicans obsessed with attacking diversity, equity and inclusion efforts by turning the attention to their hopefuls for positions in the federal government. “It’s Republicans who will have to decide if they’re going to choose country over party, choose the people they were set to represent over partisan politics. They failed that test miserably when it came to Pete Hegseth, even as they’re attacking diversity, equity and inclusion,” said Warnock of President Donald Trump’s defense secretary in an interview with MSNBC’s Chris Hayes. “I want to know what qualifies Robert Kennedy to be the chief public health officer of the United States of America? What qualifies the likes of Pete Hegseth to be the leader at the Pentagon? This is a disturbing moment in our country.” Right-wingers have blamed DEI efforts for a number of issues in the past year such as the deadly Baltimore bridge collapse, the devastating Los Angeles wildfires and — powered by bonkers claims by Trump on Wednesday — the midair plane collision in Washington, D.C. that left 67 dead. Conservatives’ focus on DEI — a dog whistle used to question the qualifications of those seeking, or holding, government positions — comes as Trump’s controversial Cabinet picks face questioning from senators over their backgrounds in the nation’s capital.

Appearing on MSNBC’s All In Thursday, Sen. Raphael Warnock (D-GA) called out the Republican obsession with attacking DEI.

From the 01.30.2025 edition of MSNBC's All In With Chris Hayes:

[odinsblog]

The federal government is the largest employer in the United States. It is the largest employer in every single state. But the federal government is no longer an “equal opportunity employer,” thanks to a series of executive orders and directives passed by the white-supremacist Trump administration that collectively allow for racial discrimination by claiming to eliminate racial discrimination against the poor, downtrodden white man—you know, the guy who’s never been able to get a fair shake in this country.

Trump signed the first of these orders, “Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI Programs and Preferencing,” within hours of taking the oath of office on Monday. The order describes diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility programs as “illegal and immoral discrimination” as well as sources of “immense public waste.” The well-known conceit here is that people who get their government jobs through DEI are not “deserving” of their positions, while every white man who works for the government is allegedly there on his “merits” and nothing more.

This conceit was made even more explicit with a second executive order called “Ending Illegal Discrimination and Restoring Merit-Based Opportunity.” This order proclaims: “These illegal DEI and DEIA policies also threaten the safety of American men, women, and children across the Nation by diminishing the importance of individual merit, aptitude, hard work, and determination when selecting people for jobs and services in key sectors of American society, including all levels of government, and the medical, aviation, and law-enforcement communities.” The fact that a twice-impeached convicted felon and fail-son king of bankruptcy is lecturing the country on individual “merit” and “aptitude” is a joke that can only be brought to us by white America.

DEI programs, of course, do not do what Trump imagines. If anything, the country is beset by mediocre white men who got their positions through an old-boys’ network of family, friends, connections, and frat buddies who now gum up and dumb down the system at every level. If you have the option of getting a Black doctor, for instance, I encourage you to take it. They’ve likely worked harder to get there, and a Black doctor’s seemingly preternatural ability to treat all patients with care and professionalism regardless of their race is apparently a very rare asset in the medical profession. If you want a doctor who sees your maladies before your skin color, always bet on Black.

But I digress. I’m not going to relitigate the utility of DEI programs here. That debate has raged, and a majority of white people, both men and women, decided to install a white supremacist president to defend the white male patriarchy. I will simply stipulate that mediocre white men need government jobs, and taking those jobs away from racial minorities and women makes the white guys feel better about themselves while they’re waiting for their mommies to wash their sheets before they head out to their little rallies.

All that said, it is more or less legal, and constitutional, to end DEI programs. I want to be very clear about that, because there is legal nuance here that often gets flattened when talking about them. DEI is just a policy, and while that policy is supported by the 14th Amendment (at least it was before MAGA took over the courts), it is not required by the 14th Amendment. The Constitution just wants whites with hiring authority to stop being racist assholes; it doesn’t care how they do it.

What is illegal and unconstitutional is discrimination against non-whites and women in hiring. And that’s the problem with the executive orders. They assume that every single person hired through a diversity program is undeserving of their position, that their qualifications are lesser and that their literal work ethic and talent are suspect. They treat people hired under these programs as if they’re one distinct class of people (apparently, we all look the same to the Trump administration), and instead of looking on a case-by-case basis at who was hired for “diversity” and who was hired simply because they were the best applicant for the job (which is often the exact same person), they cast the whole lot out. And, they effectively warn people not to hire anybody except white guys, because they suggest that anybody who isn’t might be a “diversity” hire which will trigger a lawsuit.

The memo on how to execute Trump’s order shutting down DEIA programs —which was issued by the Office of Personnel Management to all the heads of departments and agencies—illustrates the inherent discriminatory problems with these policies. One section of the memo, for instance, informs the agency heads that all employees of “DEIA offices” must be placed on administrative leave, immediately. But what defines a DEIA office? The memo doesn’t say. Instead, it says that some allegedly DEIA offices are “disguised” with “coded or imprecise language.”

What that means, effectively, is that anybody who is in a DEIA office or looks like they might be can immediately be placed on administrative leave without due process or any other legal determination. That is straight-up employment discrimination. The government itself is saying that it can’t say exactly who it’s going after, but it will know that person when it sees them. It creates two different classes of government employees: one group that the white supremacist government deems worthy, and another group that is deemed suspect, based on as little as an eye test.

(continue reading)

[darknessdrops]

A (long) Rant and Au Revoir

I'm Canadian. And I'm in a country that is under attack by its powerful neighbour. A neighbour that is intent on destroying our economy, taking our jobs, lowering our living standards, and erasing our sovereignty.

For the past sixty years we have, with the cooperation and invitation of the United States, conjoined our economy with theirs. Essentially there's been a North American economic union, first established by the original NAFTA treaty in the late 1980s. Canada relied on those treaties and the entire Canadian economy is now dependent upon access to the U.S. market.

And it turns out to have been a trap.

The U.S. President now imposes ruinous tariffs - on fake (what else would it be when coming from Trump?) and flimsy national security grounds - the obvious intent of which is to de-industrialize Canada (and Mexico) for the benefit of the U.S.

And sure, every country has the right to impose tariffs to protect vital national interests, or to protest unfair trade practices by another state. But across the board 25% tariffs against Mexico and Canada are not that; rather they are a form of economic warfare in which one state is using its economic advantage to beggar its neighbours. And it will result in severe economic hardship for my family and friends. (I have friends who work in the auto industry. They expect to be laid off in the next couple of weeks.)

I remember Trump texting - when it appeared that Russia was going to defeat Ukraine in a matter of days - how "smart" Putin was. Trump has no morality or sense of right and wrong. He only celebrates power and success.

It really depresses me that even the "liberal" American media that I follow (CNN, MSNBC, the New York Times, etc.) sees this from a purely American viewpoint. What might it do to U.S. rate of inflation? How will it affect American jobs? But where is the outrage about an illegitimate exercise of power? That this is an aggressive and unprovoked attack on weaker countries that have done nothing to deserve such a response? (And god help me if anyone mentions fentanyl!!)

Anyway, I could go on and on. And on. But it makes no difference.

So one very small thing I'm doing is to cut all of my use or purchase of American goods. There's no fucking way I'll buy anything made in America. And that means cancelling Netflix and Prime and Apple+, the Times, and any other product that means I'm paying money to a U.S. entity.

Platforms like Tumblr and Instagram and BlueSky are a bit different. I don't directly pay anything for their use. (And, in the case of Tumblr, it probably loses money.) But they are American owned and, at this moment, that's not something that sits too well with me. And, sorry, that's probably irrational and unfair, but that's how it is.

I hope it's "au revoir" and not goodbye.

[howlingday]

Meanwhile, at the White House:

In light of this, I think we the people should step up our observances.

[tomorrowusa]

Donald Trump has sent the federal government into a state of turmoil with his mass firings, flood of dubious executive orders, and appointments of alarmingly incompetent individuals. And when something goes wrong because of his own malfeasance, he resorts to flimsy scapegoating rather than accept responsibility.

A US Army helicopter collided with an airliner just a few days after a frequently drunk sex abuser picked by Trump became Defense Secretary.

At Daily Kos, Emily Singer writes about Pete Buttigieg's response to Trump's demented tirade about the crash.

Buttigieg then said Trump bears some of the blame for the crash, as he is in charge and has already taken actions to make the skies less safe. "President Trump now oversees the military and the [Federal Aviation Administration]," Buttigieg continued. "One of his first acts was to fire and suspend some of the key personnel who helped keep our skies safe. Time for the President to show actual leadership and explain what he will do to prevent this from happening again." At the time of the crash, there was no head of the FAA, as Trump's co-President Elon Musk had forced out the previous administrator because the FAA fined Musk's company SpaceX.

Yep, Elon Musk's billionaire ego may have contributed to the deaths of 67 people in this week's crash.

Trump also gutted an aviation safety committee days before the crash, getting rid of a three-decade-old safety committee that was created by Congress after the 1988 PanAm 103 bombing over Lockerbie, Scotland. Because the committee was created by an act of Congress, Trump couldn’t get rid of it, but he did fire all of its members, which will make the committee unable to do the work of looking into airline safety issues, the Associated Press reported. Kara Weipz, the president of Victims of Pan Am Flight 103, said a statement that Trump’s gutting of the safety commission, “will undermine aviation security in the United States and across the globe.”

Trump only cares about keeping oligarchs happy and himself out of prison. Public safety and health mean nothing to him.

Alexander Sammon at Slate writes...

t marks the first major crisis of the nascent Trump presidency, and one with particularly bad optics for the president. In his war with the administrative state and in his determination to gore federal spending, Trump had already fired the heads of the Transportation Security Administration and the Coast Guard and gutted a key aviation safety advisory committee, all just 10 days before the crash. As the Daily Beast reported, Federal Aviation Administration head Michael Whitaker stepped down on Jan. 20, after Elon Musk, the spear tip of Trump’s “cost cutting” spree, demanded that he quit.

Firing public safety officials so Elon Musk can play James Bond villain is the mark of a malicious moron, not a leader.

Trump doesn't have a great history with airplanes. He once had an airline called Trump Shuttle. One serious accident can be found in news archives.

Trump Jet Crash-Lands; No Injuries

Trump Shuttle lasted only three years and never made a profit. It sits on the shelf of Trump business failures along with Trump Vitamins, Trump Steaks, and Trump University.

A broader matter is the existence of Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (DCA). It's directly on the other side of the Potomac River from Washington and suffers from congestion and understaffing. It probably shouldn't even be there but it's very convenient for politicians who prefer not to commute to the better equipped Dulles Airport.

USA Today says...

The airport is particularly popular among lawmakers because it's more convenient to their Capitol Hill offices than either Dulles International Airport (IAD) or Baltimore/Washington International Airport (BWI). [ ... ] "DCA is currently at capacity and at risk of being seriously overburdened should there be changes to the slot and perimeter rules," the Coalition to Protect America’s Regional Airports said in April. "Moreover, any changes to the slot and perimeter rules threaten to undermine the access of regional airports and their communities to the D.C. area, as well as increase delays, traffic, congestion, noise, and safety concerns." [ ... ] The airport's longest and main runway, Runway 1/19, is 6,869 feet long, which today is considered a relatively short runway for a major airport. Because the other two runways are much shorter, most airplanes use 1/19, making it the single-busiest runway in the country, according to airport officials. According to air traffic control data, Flight 5342 was on final approach for one of the shorter DCA runways, Runway 15/33. Due to safety and noise considerations, the FAA generally requires aircraft flying around the Washington, D.C., area to travel above the Potomac, which concentrates traffic in a narrow area. Aircraft are generally required to stay above or below certain altitudes in the area to reduce noise impacts on both residential and tourist areas, including the National Mall.

With fewer federal workers and reduced regulation which Trump and his filthy rich libertarian extremist broligarchs demand, expect more disasters.

[nando161mando]

The Supreme Court granted immunity to all presidents, essentially making them kings. Art by Michael de Adder.