#cash award ceremony

[townpostin]

DBMS Career Academy Honors High-Scoring Students

Cash awards presented to pupils achieving over 80% in recent exams DBMS Career Academy celebrated academic excellence, rewarding students who scored above 80% in one or more subjects in their recent examinations. JAMSHEDPUR – DBMS Career Academy held a Cash Award Ceremony to recognize students from Std. X and XII who achieved over 80% in various subjects. The event was attended by students,…

[bmpmp3]

like 60% percent of the feedback i get from my professors on my art for critique is just like "keep doing what ur doing" WHAT does this mean

[lilacgaby]

title: gala gone wrong?

pairing: prohero!bakugo x prohero!reader

katsuki was suddenly forced to confront his feelings for you, when you were put in the date auction for charity.

the heroes gala was something katsuki wouldn't look forward to normally. but this year he had a plan. he was going to ask you to be his date.

...originally. he chickened out last minute and owed kirishima 1000 dollars.

he was surprised to see you come alone though, opting to sit next to him which made him fist pump internally. you were a very successful hero who also doubled as a model. for what reason you ask?

none really, you just did it cause days off of hero work were boring. walking runways, topping charts, and beating villains with style was just another day for you.

you looked especially gorgeous this evening though, working with another up and coming designer to design a dress that perfectly complimented everything from your skin color, to you hair, to even references of your quirk.

katsuki suddenly felt underdressed in his suit, but to be fair every hero who was a man was dressed in a suit. except for monoma.

the auction portion of the gala started before the awards were to be given out.

the awards were pretty pointless in katsuki's mind. the only ones that mattered to him were the final rankings of popularity, efficiency, and the overall category.

"you nervous?" you whispered, talking over the first few lower ranked hero's to be auctioned for a date.

"nah, i know i won at least in popularity." he said, trying to keep eye contact with you without stuttering.

"hmm. what if i won? huh?"

"shut up."

she put a hand over her mouth, when suddenly-

"and the last date to be auctioned, a night with the top ranked woman hero [name]!"

"huh? oh that's me!" you said, collecting your dress as you walked to the stage, leaving katsuki blinking in confusion to himself.

you were in this? i mean it shouldn't have been a surprise, you had a rabidly loyal fan base, even since U-A. but what was he supposed to do? bid?

"the bid starts at.. 15,000 dollars." you rolled your eyes and gestured for people to go higher, and they did.

"17,000!"

"20,000!"

"30,000"

numbers were being shouted from all around the room, with the highest bids barely even being able to be tracked. the bids ranged from new heroes who definetly could not afford you, to old men who you really wish couldn't afford you.

you covered your mouth as you let a laugh escape you, this was hilarious to you, you'd have to do this more often.

after a bunch of back and forth, one booming voice cut all the others off.

"500,000 dollars. cash." to your surprise it wasn't an old creep. grand, also known as shindo yo, had suddenly bid. just as they were about to call off the auction and announce shindo the winner,

katsuki's internal dialogue won and 'forced' him to bid too. "750,000 dollars." he declared.

he doesn't think he'd have done it had it been any other idiot who wanted a chance with you, but that loser had to go.

"sold! to dynamite! we've broken a record here folks, 750,000 for the charity of --"

the words faded into the background as he looked up at you, smiling and walking over to him. he felt is heart speed up, his hands drown in sweat, his hair puff out.

"if you wanted to take me out you could've just asked katsuki." you joked, taking him by the hand as you pulled him back to the table towards the back you two were settled in on.

"whatever, now we have an excuse to."

"don't tell me you like me or something katsuki? how embarrassing."

"i told you shut it."

she laughed and settled down, poking him on the cheek. "its okay if you do, i like you quite a lot dynamite."

he flushed red at that, tiny explosions being let out from his hands inadvertently because of how caught off guard he was.

she held his hand under the table, before looking straight ahead to the ceremonies going on in front of them. he smiled and leaned back.

the awards were pretty boring when compared to the view of you, so until they had gotten to the cool stuff he just eyed you.. daydreaming about the life you'll have together someday.

he focused again when the top three heroes in popularity, efficiency, and overall were to be announced by all might.

at the end of the night, not only did he leave with a number one trophy with 'popular vote!' embedded in its side and an all-might signature at the bottom,

he also left with a lipstick mark from you right on his cheek, some flowers, and a small note that read 'see you tomorrow :)'.

[writersdrug]

You and Konig spend the night drinking and wake up to each other <3

Unsure if we’re hung over or still drunk

König and you being drunk homebodies

Warnings: vomiting/emetophobia trigger warning!! Mentions of sex, drunk reader and König, fluff, König being the caring partner we all crave

A/N: I know exactly who requested this and I'm sorry it took so long 😭 I don't even have an excuse, it just say on the back burner, but here you go! Enjoy~

Photo credit to 661ave

You don't remember much from the night before: just glimpses of this and that.

You and König dressed up for the awards ceremony, a glass of wine in each of your hands, managing to convince him to dance with you... holding some bronze, dark cocktail in your hands as König insists it's the best thing Germany ever made. From there, it only gets worse.

You remember laughter and giggles, promises whispered into your ear, making you blush... König pulling you outside of the event, nearly tripping over your own feet as he dragged you into a taxi... watching as he threw a wad of cash at the angry driver as you both shamelessly made out in the backseat of the car... continuing the fiasco on the loveseat in your home...

And then it goes black.

Last night, you felt like a couple of teenagers escaping a party. Now, you felt like you'd just finished a triathlon.

You groaned. The sunlight peering through the blinds was too bright, your stomach churned, your head was pounding, and there was something heavy and warm draped over your middle. You tried to push it off, to no avail - König made a sound, and his fingers twitched against your side.

"König..."

"... mm..."

"Get off..."

"... m... mh-mm..."

You sighed. You needed water - your mouth was drier than a desert, and every cell in your body screamed for hydration. You could stand to take a bath, too.

You tried turning your head to look at König - which was a mistake. The entire room spun dangerously, and your stomach threatened to empty its contents then and there. You slapped a hand over your mouth and threw Königs arm off of your body with all your might. You stumbled into the bathroom, crashing into the door frame and collapsing on your knees. You barely made it to the toilet in time to spill last night's dinner, gripping the edge of the bowl like it was your lifeline.

God, you thought, when was the last time I was hungover like this? Highschool?

As you were emptying your stomach, you felt a hand scoop your hair back and away from your face. You saw König out of the corner of your eye - he was only in his boxers, sliding down the edge of the tub to sit next to you, his legs splayed out before him. He held his other hand over his eyes as you finished your business.

You panted, pulling the handle to flush and squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach felt better, but your head was pounding, like you were being stoned. "Thanks..." You mumbled to König, and he grunted in response.

"Better?" He asked, still shielding his eyes from the bathroom light.

You groaned. "Yeah." You sat back on the cool tile, leaning against his chest. "Never trusting any of your recommendations again, by the way."

He exhaled, possibly meant to be a laugh. He let go of your hair and rested his hand on your thigh. Watching his thumb rub soothing circles into your skin made you feel dizzy. To be honest, you couldn't be sure that you weren't still drunk. Between the spinning room and the lightness in your chest, there may have been a bit of drunkenness left in your mind - but that could have also been from vomiting.

"Let's not do that again..." You mumbled.

"Mhm..." he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "What was it we did?"

"Idunno. You told me to try a drink - I think I had three- no, four..."

"Jägermeister..." he mumbled in a pained voice.

You both sat there for a few minutes, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on breathing. The feeling of König's breath washing over the crown of your head was soothing, even in your half-dead state. You would have been content to stay like that, sat up against him on the cold, bathroom floor as you recovered from your hangover.

Eventually, König threaded his hands under your armpits and helped you stand, guiding you into the bathrub behind you. He murmured something in your ear about "need to get something", before he turned on the shower and let the cold water hit you. You griped and tried to change it to a warmer setting, but he told you to let it run for a few minutes. "It'll feel better, schatz."

He left the bathroom door open as he trudged - stumbling was a better word - into the living room. Despite the constant fogginess in his mind, and the ache in his legs, he was a man on a mission to take care of his partner (and afterwards, himself). He began picking up all the clothes that he had torn off of you and himself in a hasty desire for drunken sex. He would have gotten hard at the memory of him plowing you into the sofa, and at the sound of your drunken moans and giggles as he struggled to hold himself above you - but his hangover prevented him from having any sort of reaction to said memories. The most he could do was laugh and snatch your panties that were hanging off the corner of the TV.

He piled the clothes next to the washer and dryer, then moved into the kitchen. He fixed two thermouses of water for the both of you, and grabbed an extra glass and an Alka seltzer for him. He carried the items back to the bedroom, peeking into the bathroom as he passed.

You stood in the shower as the freezing water hit your back, hugging yourself and shivering at that point. You eventually gave up waiting for König and turned the knob to the left; you sighed in relief as the warmth seeped into your bones, melting away some of the fogginess in your head and making you feel less grimy. You leaned your forehead against the tile in front of you - your stomach lurched a bit, but you knew there was nothing else to come up.

You heard König slide into the shower behind you, but you kept your head against the tile. He whispered something in German that you were too exhausted to decipher. His hand gently slid onto your forehead as he pulled you back against him. You leaned there, eyes closed as you let his scent wash over you.

"Mein liebling..." he murmured, massaging his fingers into your shoulder muscles.

"Don't call me that." You spoke softly. "You tried to poison me last night."

He chuckled, rubbing a warm, wet cloth over your neck and shoulders. "Almost took myself out, too, didn't I?"

After a moment of standing in the silence with him, feeling drag the cloth softly over your face, you realized that he was replicating your nighttime skincare routine. Except, it was currently one in the afternoon, and you normally don't do it in the shower. You would have told him that he was using the wrong kind of cloth to clean your face, but you decided to keep your mouth shut. Both out of gratitude and the comfort of his touch.

He carefully finished washing your face, then your body, making sure to be gentle and slow. He whispered unintelligible phrases against your scalp as he turned off the water. He pulled you into the center of the bathroom and wiped you down with a towel - you were practically asleep standing up, but he made sure to hold you steady.

After you both brushed your teeth together, he helped you pull on some clothes, before letting you crawl back into the bed. He then went back into the bathroom to finish drying himself off. You kept your eyes closed, listening to the ambiance of König's movements, combined with the sound of the breeze outside.

You looked towards the window and noticed he had cracked it open. You also noticed there was a thermos and a sleeve of crackers on the nightstand, right within your reach. You felt a sudden onslaught of emotions and tears forming in the corners of your eyes; maybe it was because you were hungover (or at this point, possibly still drunk, you couldn't tell), but it finally broke the damn, and you began to cry, quiet sobs and sniffles breaking the near silence in the bedroom.

Instantaneously, you heard König nearly breaking his legs as he floundered over to you. The towel he had held had yet to hit the floor by the time he was kneeling by your side.

"Was? Was ist falsch? Are you ok?" He said, placing a hand on your forehead with a worried expression.

You let out a sob. "Nothing, it's stupid- you're too good to me... you're hungover too- and you- you did all this shit for me- 'n here I am, not doing anything at all for you-" your words melded with your sobs, which had taken over the conversation.

He sighed with relief, petting the crown of your head and planting a kiss there. "Liebling... I'll always take care of you- even when I don't feel gut." he murmured. "You always come first - but I promise I'll take care of myself too, ok? Just for you."

You sniffled again and nodded. "M'kay..." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to stop the flow of tears - you needed all the hydration you could get.

"Although, promise me one thing-"

"Hmm?"

"Let's not to do this again. It's not good for you, and I can't take care of you properly when I'm like this."

You nodded again. You'd rather be in hell than have this bad of a hangover. "Promise."

König placed a satisfied kiss to your forehead again, muttering a quick "Geh schlafen, süßes Mädchen..." into your scalp. He stood back up and headed back to the bathroom, picking up the discarded towel and rubbing it over his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, scoffing at the bags under his eyes. Not what I used to be, eh? He thought.

He headed back into the room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, and lazily tugged them on. He thought about putting on a shirt, but the idea of it made him cringe. He felt overstimulated enough as it was - the shirt would just feel suffocating. He then shuffled over to the bed and climbed in, pulling you against him with an arm wrapped around your waist. He sighed, tucking your head underneath his chin.

"At least we have all weekend, ja?" He said quietly.

You didn't respond, making him crane his neck to look down at you. "Schatz?" He said, holding his hand in front of your nostrils. He knew you were alive, of course - but the feeling of your warm, slow breaths against his fingers granted him peace of mind.

He chuckled, tucking his hand back around your waist as you slumbered on. "Süße Träume, mein liebe." He whispered, curling around you and letting his eyes fall shut.

------------

Bleh I wasn't too confident with this one, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts so I pushed it out. Hope yall like it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 🥰

[librarycards]

Following months of escalating protest over the organization’s response to Israel’s war on Gaza, and the recent withdrawal of over a third of this year’s nominees, the 2024 PEN America Literary Awards have now officially been cancelled. In the last hour, PEN America confirmed this cancellation in a press release published on the organization’s website: PEN America announced today the cancellation of its annual Literary Awards ceremony, and released the names of its 2024 award finalists and winners. It was a very difficult decision not to move forward with a public celebration to recognize this year’s honorees, according to PEN America’s Literary Programming Chief Officer Clarisse Rosaz Shariyf. “We greatly respect that writers have followed their consciences, whether they chose to remain as nominees in their respective categories or not,” said Rosaz Shariyf. “We regret that this unprecedented situation has taken away the spotlight from the extraordinary work selected by esteemed, insightful and hard-working judges across all categories. As an organization dedicated to freedom of expression and writers, our commitment to recognizing and honoring outstanding authors and the literary community is steadfast.” [...] For the cash prizes that could not be conferred, a decision about how to allocate the funds will be made on a case-by-case basis, according to the specifications of each award contract and the wishes of our generous award underwriters. Of the 61 authors and translators nominated for a book award this cycle, 28 authors chose to withdraw their books from consideration. Nine of the ten authors recognized as nominees for the PEN/Jean Stein Book Award withdrew their work from consideration. Katrina Vanden Heuvel, Wendy Vanden Heuvel, and Bill Clegg, on behalf of the foundation and the Literary Estate of Jean Stein, provided the following statement: “Jean Stein was a passionate advocate for Palestinian rights who published, supported, and celebrated Palestinian writers and visual artists.  While she established the PEN America award in her name to bring attention to and provide meaningful support to writers of the highest literary achievement, we know she would have respected the stance and sacrifice of the writers who have withdrawn from contention this year. To honor their decision the Estate of Jean Stein has directed PEN America to donate the $75,000 award to the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.”

[dullgecko]

(Journalist Riz)

When Riz gets nominated for an award, he gets a plus one to the ceremony. Who do you think Riz would invite?

As much as he loves them all, I think Riz would probably either pick Sklonda, Adaine or Gorgug; depending on who is available. Maybe Fabian, but it all depends. Fig and Kristen are no gos.

Riz had gotten home before his mom that day, stopping by the mailbox in the lobby of the appartment to grab their mail before heading upstairs. It was mostly junk mail, a couple of bills (which he pocketed so he could pay them himself before his mom saw them) and weirdly enough a letter addressed directly to him.

It was suspicious. No one ever sent him letters. Riz flipped it over in his hand to look at the back (no return address, hand delivered obviously) before he felt the envelope between his fingers. Noting the weird texture and thickness of whatever was inside before giving a slight bend. Whatever it was had multiple pages enclosed plus at least one or two pages that were shorter than the edges of the rest.... this warranted some investigation. He wasn't about to open a weird letter without checking it for traps first.

Once he was securely in his apartment he placed the envelope on the kitchen table, first trying detect magic before starting on the usual trap-detection routine he had to go through every time he got an info packet from his rogue classes. The goblin found nothing. It was just a normal, untrapped, suspicious letter.

Now that he was relatively sure it wouldn't explode in his face he ripped it open, Riz digging one of his sharp claws under the flap an tearing a neat line along the top so he could access the contents. He slid the thinner pieces of paper out first, surprised that he was holding two glossy VIP tickets to an award ceremony in Bastion City in his hand. The letter that accompanied them getting unfolded and read quickly as he searched for the reason why.

Oh.... well. Wow okay.

He glanced at the tickets again, quickly digging out his crystal so he could bring up the website for the ceremony and scroll through the list of nominees. Yep. There he was. 'Riz Gukgak - nominated for his piece exposing the unethical hunting of sapient species for level grinding in the Mountains of Chaos'.

There was a fairly substantial cash prize if he won too and he honestly didn't think he'd ever held that much money in one go before (saved for the cursed coins in Kalvaxus's hoard, and that didn't count in his mind).

The rogue flopped heavily onto his couch, still clutching the letter and tickets in one hand and his crystal in the other while he stared at the ceiling. Sure he was aware his article had been popular, the Bastion City Newspaper having bought it from him for a decent amount of money, but he didn't think it was that good. He'd written it on a whim, something he'd discovered incidentally while working a different job for the LPRTF that had left him with a lot of information buzzing around in his head but nowhere to put it other than into an article. This was... wild.

He glanced at the letter and tickets again, holding them up and snapping a photo before sending a text with the picture to his mom.

//Hey. I've been nominated for an award. You free Thursday night next week? They sent me a ticket for a plus one.//

//Honey thats amazing! Of course! I'll let work know I won't be free. We can discuss details when we get home. I'm so PROUD of you.//

Riz laughed, flicking over to the group chat as well to update his friends and getting a swarm of similar texts, though they were more packed with emojis than his mothers had been. It had been Fig that noticed the second ticket, the archdevil reposting the picture into the chat after circling the extra ticket in red.

//Omg who are you taking as your plus one?! Do you have someone you want to ask out maybe? >:3//

//No. Dude. I've already asked my mom.//

//Lol figured. You'll have to tell us how it goes! Down to the second updates.//

The next few days had been hectic. Between school and work he had barely any downtime as it was but Fabian had insisted he get a new suit for the ceremony. Riz had protested that his normal suits were fine but he apparently had no say in the matter, the half elf saying it was a gift to congratulate him on his success and basically dragging him from store to store in his quest for the best. The girls had kidnapped his mom though, something he found out after he got home (arms overloaded with a new suit, and shoes, and socks, and cufflinks) and found his mother in a similar state of overwhelemed overshopped exhaustion surrounded by her own pile of clothes.

And so the day of the awards ceremony came, Sklonda getting a little teary eyed on seeing Riz in his outfit because he looked so much like his father. They were hustled quickly into the dark theatre once they arrived, the pair of them sitting through nearly an hour of speeches and awards before Riz's own catagory was announced.

He felt a little out of his own body when they announced that he'd won, heavy feet making their way up onto the stage to accept his award and cheque and got ready to make his speech. The rogue blinking in surprise when he noticed his party seated near the far back of the room waving wildly at him as he gave them a confused look.

Of course they were here. He shouldn't have ever doubted that they WOULD be. Between Fabians connections and Figs ability to get into places she shouldn't there was no way they'd miss out on this.

Riz shook his head in amusement, giving them a small wave back before clearing his throat to speak. Having to take a few seconds before he was finally able to get the words out.

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max, Chloe and David drive to Away

On the road to Away, Chloe was sitting next to David in the passenger’s seat, with Max nominally in the backseat, but with her arms wrapped around Chloe and her head between the front seats. That way both David and Max got what they wanted. David had Chloe riding shotgun and Max had Chloe firmly in her embrace. It wasn’t a particularly safe sitting arrangement, but David took that into account and drove slowly, even though the desert road was completely empty.

“So, David, how does it feel to be an accomplice to two cartel operatives slash Hezbollah terrorists slash Chinese spies slash whatever else the fear-mongering media cooked up?” - Chloe inquired.

“You mean the Diaz brothers?”

“Yes, David, I mean the two fugitives that broke through a police cordon at the border and drove off in a hail of bullets! The ones everyone is talking about!” - Chloe pursued the topic.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself an accomplice. Sean and Daniel stayed in Away for a few weeks. I gave Sean a little bit of advice. And then they were on their way.”

“I knew it!” Chloe energetically patted Max’s arms, which were entwined around her. “You owe me five bucks, Max!” Seeing David’s puzzled look, Chloe explained: “When we heard that the Diaz brothers had went through Arizona, so close to your place, I immediately knew you had bumped into them. We bet on that with Max”.

“You won Chloe. But how exactly am I supposed to cash you out? We pool all of our money together anyway”.

“How are you supposed to pay it out? By handing me an oversized check in front of cameras, of course!”

“If by ‘cameras’ you mean my polaroid and by ‘an oversized check’ you mean a page ripped out from a notebook, then sure, it can be arranged”.

“Fine, if you can’t conduct a proper award ceremony, then I guess you can exchange those five bucks into kisses. One kiss for one dollar”.

“Hey! My kisses are worth far more than a dollar a piece! Then again, you’re my favourite customer and I value your continued business, so I can offer you an even more favourable exchange rate – one kiss for 10 cents”.

“It’s a deal, Max!”

David smiled, listening to their playful banter. He was reminded of one particular moment from years ago, when he goofed around with Joyce while making pancakes. When he still thought he and Chloe could become a family. Before he fucked it all up. But in the end, they did become a family. He just wished Joyce could be there to see it. To see her daughter smile and laugh and be hopeful again.

“For the record, David, I didn’t bet against you meeting the Diazes because I thought you weren’t cool enough to hang out with alleged domestic terrorists. I just didn’t think the world was that small. Them being from Seattle and on top of that them meeting you? That seemed implausible” – Max explained.

“Max, your incredulity becomes even cuter with every strange mess we get ourselves into. So, David, what kind of advice did you give to Sean Diaz? How to manufacture IEDs?” – Chloe wanted to hear all the juicy deets.

David sighed. “I told him they should surrender. That seemed like the best advice I could give to a teenage boy chased by hundreds of cops who would love nothing more than to gun him down. But I’m glad he didn’t listen. I was being naïve. He would never get a fair trial. The media had already convicted him for being a cop killer”.

Chloe stopped goofing around and spoke in a more serious tone: “It’s okay, David. You meant well. At the end of the day, that’s all we can demand from ourselves. Sometimes we wish to do good, but the results are different than we expected. But as long as we want to help others, instead of hurting them, everything is fine”.

Both David and Max fell silent, because Chloe’s words spoke volumes to them. To Max, the part about meaning well but causing unforeseen consequences. And to David, the part about helping, instead of hurting others. After a brief moment, Chloe realized how her words might have been received. She cursed at herself in her thoughts. She wished she had bitten her tongue instead of speaking. “This is why you should leave philosophising to Max, you numbnuts. Because when you speak, you tend to make people sad”. She radically changed the topic to turn Max’s and David’s attention away from the past and towards the present, or better yet, the future.

“Listen, dad, before we get to Away, we need to stop at a store and buy some essentials. And nothing is more essential right now than sunscreen for Max. Arizonian sun doesn’t jive well with tender Irish skin. Not everyone can be of stout Germanic stock like the Prices or the Madsens. Some people are delicate Celtic flowers from the Emerald Isle".

The three of them smiled all the way to Away. Max at being called an Irish beauty. David at being called “dad”. And Chloe at the fact that with each day she was getting better at making others smile.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

If anyone wanted to know the ideas I have for the Bear, here's the list so far

Current WIP: Richie, after everything failing and falling apart in s3, after how tired he is, and how he thinks he's alone, spirals. Syd's leaving, the Bear gets a bad review, Jimmy pulls the funding and it's looking like they’re going to close. He can't take losing everything again, he can't take being the one to put everyone back together again.

So one night, he writes everyone letters and tries to end his own life. He ends up calling the paramedics and we see the immediate aftermath of Tiff getting the call as she's next of kin, her telling Frank, telling Eva and telling the staff of the Bear. The staff trying to visit but Richie only letting Nat in as she knew the most about how tired he was and how alone he felt. Very angsty, also abstract at the moment as I'm writing particular scenes but am finding it hard to connect them

A follow on from this is: The Bear closes and most people move to the new restaurant, or the Bear reforms as something new. Richie and Jess start dating. She unlocks a hidden side to Richie that even he didn't really think about, his more submissive side that likes someone else taking control, likes just doing what he's told and getting praise, likes things getting rough because he trusts her. He gets a massive bruise on his neck when they go a little further than usual and everyone’s concerned. He ends up embarrassingly having to tell people he's a kinky bitch

A more fleshed out idea: Richie and Syd are closing up when he spots someone about to break in. He hides Syd in the walk in and faces the intruders who hit him around a bit, try to rob the place, then smack his head against the bar when he tells them there's no cash on the premises (something tells me people pay beforehand when booking or they're card only). He tries to fight them when they get distracted but ends up being shot and they run away with his phone. Syd's been messaging Carmy, who rushes back to find Richie unconscious and Syd in the walk in. Richie goes loopy with blood loss as they try to stop the bleeding and keep him awake, awakening Carmy to their secret relationship. They get him to hospital, he has surgery, and there’s a lot of talking done while they wait for him to get out.

And a new one from today: Syd returns to the Bear after realising that Shapiro's offer is good on paper, Carmy becomes a hands off boss to let himself heal. Syd and Richie start dating, 2 years later they go to the James Beard Award Ceremony as they were nominated, she forgets her birth control snd ends up pregnant. A few fics follow her realising she wants the baby, them telling her dad, Nat, Carmy and Tiff, them telling the crew at the Bear when it's getting hard to hide as her chef blouse thing doesn't fit anymore, her and Richie arguing over names, her having an induced labour and c-section that goes wrong and ends up with her needing an emergency hysterectomy, people visiting after the birth, and the baby's christening

Then some more brief ones

Richie gets ill and people look after him, wrote about this here

Richie’s parents visit the Bear, wrote this post about it pre-season 3 so there's some adjustments but it's mostly the same

A follow on from the fic I posted where Syd tells Carmy about the offer, starts having a panic attack, Richie calms her down then has a massive argument with Carmy where he reveals a lot of personal shit that he's never gone into from the last months of Mickey’s life to Carmy showing up at the Bear

Richie gets Syd over to help him batch cook and they fuck about it

Syd helps cater Eva’s birthday party and has to dress up as a princess so comes in as Tiana, Richie's wearing some fake alligator suit as the alligator from the Princess and the Frog

[mitsuki91]

So, this morning I found this little story in my notes... It was the story that ended the serie "The play of songbirds and snakes", the one with Katniss and Peeta, and I fogot about it until now because, well, I had to write about Katniss's parents and grandparents first... But since I don't think I will do it, I think I share the story with you all. It's short and cute. What do you think, I have to post it to ao3 too to end the serie? Even if I miss the other two stories?

Let me know.

This is the serie:

Story under the cut:

The boy with the bread

Katniss woke up that morning super excited, quivering with impatience, so much so that even Grandpa Coryo was exasperated. Grandma, on the other hand, laughed amusedly at the breakfast table.

"Go," she finally said, winking at her, "Go get ready and run off to school."

Being able to finally take leave of that endless breakfast, Katniss executed.

In Havensbee Hall all the students were murmuring excitedly, exchanging gossip and predictions.

It was, after all, Reaping Day.

Katniss went to sit diligently in her seat in the front row, trying to calm her heartbeat. Like every year on that occasion, one boy and one girl would be drawn from each District and invited to the capital to participate in the most renowned talent show in all of Panem. No volunteers were allowed, that was the funny thing, so in the two weeks before the show the Tribute, together with his Mentor, would have to work on some particular talent, to then present it to the public and thus attempt to win the Hunger Games, receiving in return honour, glory and even a hefty cash prize.

And she, a brilliant third-year student, had been chosen together with her classmates to take on the role of Mentor.

She couldn't wait to meet her Tribute.

Increasingly impatient, she watched the ceremony, broadcast live across the country. She could not take his eyes off the screen, one heartbeat at a time as the names were called and his own was not heard. But the Dean couldn't have forgotten about her, could he?

And there she was at last. The last on the list.

"The District Twelve Male Tribute will be awarded to Katniss Everdeen."

The District's master of ceremonies, a certain Effie Trinket, had just drawn the name.

"Peeta Mellark."

Katniss blinked twice, concentrating, as a blond, well-built boy took the stage.

She knew him.

She remembered him. He was the bread boy.

It had happened in the winter of her 11th birthday. Dad and Mum had decided to spend the holidays at the lake house, taking the opportunity to visit some friends. Katniss, who had little patience for social occasions, had slipped out of one of those gatherings unnoticed and started wandering around the neighbourhood, hugging herself in her coat.

She was doing something forbidden - and for that matter, exciting. Except, well, it wasn't like there was much to do in the end, apart from walking and freezing from the cold. Besides getting soaked, because a light drizzle had started to fall. So she decided to take a break, leaning up against the trunk of an apple tree to find a minimum of shelter. An inviting fragrance of bread hovered in the air: she had arrived near the bakery.

Katniss looked up and saw a boy peering at her through one of the windows; then he disappeared and she heard a thud and screams. Before she could worry about it she saw the boy coming out of the house, with a half-burnt loaf of bread under his arm and a red mark on one cheek.

"Hello!" he said, approaching her. Katniss knew she had met him before, but could not remember exactly where. The boy approached her and held out a hand, "I am Peeta Mellark."

"Katniss Everdeen" she replied, slightly wary, shaking it.

"I know."

Of course. It was obvious he knew who she was. The whole country knew, didn't they? She was the president's great-granddaughter, after all.

Perhaps a slight disappointment had emerged in his face, as Peeta hastened to point out “I remember you from first grade”.

"Oh?" had asked Katniss, taken aback. It was true that she had attended first grade in the District - her father thought it would be good for her to spend time away from the capital - and yes, she remembered now, that was where she had seen him before. A bright boy in her class, always cheerful and surrounded by friends, while she felt like a fish out of water.

Peeta had blushed, but had continued to smile.

"The teacher once asked who knew the Valley song, and you raised your hand so high! I heard you sing and I thought, well, I thought I'd like to be your friend," he concluded, blushing more and more.

Katniss didn't quite know what to say. Not that he had ever spoken to her in primary school, anyway, except for a few trivial conversations about homework and studying.

Peeta extended the loaf of bread towards her.

“Do you want it? It's a bit burnt, but it's nice and warm. I thought it might be good for you, given the less than beautiful weather.”

Katniss stared at the loaf for a long moment. It was true, it radiated warmth and it also seemed to smell very good. Suddenly she realized what had happened: Peeta must have dropped it in the oven, earning him a scolding and probably a slap, just so he could steal it and go outside to offer it to her.

She smiled. How could anyone refuse such a gift?

"Of course. Thank you," she grabbed one side of the loaf and together they broke it, then dug into the bread and began to eat. It was delicious, filled with walnuts and sultanas.

They stayed a few minutes like this, chatting as they shared the bread, waiting for the rain to stop. Eventually, as time continued to run out, Katniss took her leave of him and returned to the house from which she had fled.

She didn't want Dad to be angry after all. Peeta greeted her with a smile and she felt a surge of warmth rise in her chest.

That, however, had been their first and only meeting.

And now Peeta Mellark had been entrusted to her.

Katniss, considering how on edge she had been before the ceremony, remained strangely silent throughout the banquet, reflecting. What did she know about the boy, other than that he was kind?

Well, that back in the day he had started decorating cakes at the bakery, or so he had told her. Had he become good at it? Was it a talent they could exploit?

She couldn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning in bed, thinking about Peeta Mellark and their meeting. Five years had now passed. How much had the boy changed, during all this time? Did he still remember her, hearing her sing in primary school?

The next day, clean and combed and in a brand new uniform, Katniss went to the station to wait for the train to arrive, along with all the other Mentors. The crowd had been kept away from the platform and she nervously kept twisting her braid with one hand and twirling the rose she held in the other between her fingers. It was her great-grandfather who had placed it in her hand, as a 'good omen'.

The train arrived and stopped with almost surgical precision. One of the doors opened in front of her and Peeta Mellark emerged from it, hesitating as soon as he saw her.

"Hello" she greeted him, stopping to twist her hair. She handed him the rose "Welcome to the Capitol. Do you remember me? Apparently, I'm your Mentor."

Peeta, who had grabbed the rose, confused, blushed.

Katniss smiled. A flush of warmth rose in her chest again and she couldn't help but notice how cute Peeta was.

"Katniss" he greeted her at last, barely stumbling over her name "Of course I remember you. The girl with the nightingale voice" he blushed even more, saying it.

"And you're the bread boy" she replied "Did you get good at cake decorating? You know... For the competition. That could be your talent."

"You remember that" he murmured "Well... I'm an artist now".

Katniss took him by the hand. An electric spark passed between their touching fingers, catching her by surprise.

"Good, because I'm very determined to make us the Victors this year."

Peeta giggled, bringing the rose to his face and sniffing her scent, as the cameras panned on them and the photographers went crazy, blinding them with flashes.

"Peeta Mellark?" Katniss called back to him, shaking his hand "Can I take you to my home, to meet my family?"

It had been years now that the Hunger Games had worked this way; they had become a sort of student exchange programme, where boys from the Districts were hosted by their Mentors.

Peeta lifted the rose towards the audience, smiling and driving them wild.

"With pleasure, Katniss Everdeen. Lead the way."

[townpostin]

Dayanand Public School Honors Top ICSE, ISC Performers

60 meritorious students receive cash awards at annual ceremony Dayanand Public School celebrated academic excellence at its annual Achiever’s Award Ceremony for ICSE and ISC toppers. JAMSHEDPUR – Dayanand Public School held its annual Achiever’s Award Ceremony, recognizing 60 meritorious students from the 2023-24 ICSE and ISC Examinations. Rituraj Sinha, Managing Director of Tata Steel UISDL,…

[hairbrush9]

brit got nominated by her professor and awarded a special certificate cause shes the best poet in her entire english department class <3 she got a cash prize and is gonna accept it at an awards ceremony friday !!

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 115 - Every Rose Has Its Thorne

Ophelia's in Del Sol Valley to represent The Main Squeeze at the Starlight Accolades tonight, because their latest single was nominated for Best Song!

I don't think Xander is technically allowed to attend because he's not famous, but the Watcher is gonna teleport him in anyway.

Xander: Good luck, Lemon Cake.

Ophelia: I'm just happy we got nominated. Thank you for being here though.

Host: Let's get a move on, folks, I can't cash that big ol' check if there's no show!

The first Accolade goes to Thorne Bailey for being an all around great Sim! Don't know why that's a category, but okay.

Don't get used to this sitting arrangement. The crowd was apparently playing musical chairs during the entire ceremony.

Thorne: I'd like to thank my beautiful wife Octavia, our son Orange, and our two Neighborhood Stories kids the Watcher doesn't know the names of.

Ophelia can't believe she's in the same room as Thorne Bailey. She wonders if Hector ever did talk trash to him about her…

Host: And the winner of our next Starlight Accolade is… Some random teenager!

The random teen is named Sasha and she wore her finest randomized outfit!

Sasha: This one's for my stans who threatened every member of the Accolade Committee. Literally couldn't have done it without you. Rando Army represent!

Okay, enough "Watcher" commentary, this is me, Kelsey, talking. I have never had a Sim go to the Starlight Accolades but is it ALWAYS this chaotic? Everybody keeps getting up and talking over the host, nobody stays in their seat, or sits in a seat at all! It's a NIGHTMARE

Host: Our last winner is-

Megumi Ito interrupts with her horrendous violin skills.

Host: Thank you for that, Megumi! You're famous for being a skier and have no musical interests so I don't know why you're doing this but why not.

Even this guy's getting annoyed at the chaos.

Host: I'm gonna be honest, gang, the Watcher doesn't remember this girl's name and neither do I. She's also some random famous teenager.

Tea Neighjur: Thank you to my FlipFlop followers, and my manager for bribing the judges to give me this award! …I mean the Watcher. Mwah!

Ophelia: That was… something.

Xander: Sure was. Sorry you guys didn't win.

Ophelia: Eh, brushing elbows with celebrities was kind of fun.

Speaking of… Thorne's getting ready to leave. Ophelia would love to share her side of the story regarding her encounter with Hector.

Ophelia: I'm gonna try to catch Thorne. You want to come with?

Xander: Nah, I don't want to pass out and flop on the ground, this suit is dry clean only. I'll just get a drink for double the usual price at the bar. Good luck!

Ophelia: Mr. Bailey, wait! Can we talk before you leave?

Thorne: Apparently we can, because you're doing something besides asking for a selfie. You're a celebrity too, yeah? Pardon, don't think we've met.

Ophelia: Ophelia Lemon. I'm the lead singer of The Main Squeeze.

Ophelia assumes that's not going to ring any bells for him but-

Thorne: Ah, Orange listens to your music all the time. You've got a good set of pipes. Sorry I didn't recognize you, just haven't had the chance to look you up myself, I suppose.

She's speechless.

Ophelia: Thank you. That's a big honor Mr. Bailey.

Thorne: Thorne's fine.

Ophelia: Right. Listen, Thorne, if Hector Laurent told you anything about me, none of it is true.

Thorne dwells on this much too long for her liking.

Thorne: Who the bloody hell is Hector Laurent?

Ophelia: Uh… he's the owner of the wedding venue you got married at. He said you stayed in touch.

Thorne: The bloke with the fedora?

Ophelia: Yeah.

Thorne: I mean, he kept texting me saying if I ever remarried he'd give me a discount, but I wouldn't say we're close.

Ophelia: Of course that little… Well, thanks for hearing me out, anyway.

Thorne: No problem, dear. Mind if I get an autograph for Orange?

Ophelia: Of course!

She tries to steady her shaking hands as she signs an autograph for the son of the biggest musician out there.

Thorne: Thanks, love. That'll earn me some cool dad points.

Ophelia: Being Thorne Bailey isn't enough?

Thorne: Apparently not. Kids.

Thorne: Pleasure to meet you, Ophelia. Keep your chin up. You'll have your own Accolade someday.

Ophelia: Thanks, Thorne. That means a lot.

Fan: OMW your faves could never!!!

Ophelia: Do you ever get used to the fans?

Thorne: Yeah. Honestly the ego boost is nice. Take care.

Thorne disappears into the night. Ophelia might not be going home with a trophy, but some kind words from a 4-star celebrity are good too.

This fan is definitely going to go home and write Ophelia Lemon/Thorne Bailey fanfic but she's too happy to care.

Ophelia tries to go back in to check in on Xander but someone approaches her.

Fan: Wow, Ophelia Lemon, in the flesh! I gotta say, the Accolades were totally rigged this year. We stan our citrus queen!

Ophelia: Oh! Thank you!

Fan: Can I have your autograph?

Ophelia: Sure!

Ophelia tries to get back in the building several times but fans keep coming up and asking for hugs and selfies. How can she deny the people that have given her the opportunity to keep doing what she loves?

When she finally pulls away from the crowd, she runs into Brytani.

Ophelia: Hey, Brytani, remember me?

Brytani: You're making yourself awfully hard to forget, kid, and I mean that in a good way. You're popular tonight.

Ophelia: I guess so. I've never had this many fan encounters in one night before. Guess it's a coincidence.

Brytani: Honey, come on. Thorne Bailey knows who you are. He barely remembers who I am and we dated for like a year.

Ophelia: I think he just knows me because Orange listens to me.

Brytani: Thorne doesn't strike me as dad of the year. He must be hearing your name elsewhere too.

Brytani: And not just that, he had a CONVERSATION with you. Thorne doesn't speak to anyone that's not a 4-star celebrity besides his own wife and kids.

Ophelia: Well, I'm not a 4-star celebrity and he spoke to me.

Brytani: I'm really gonna have to spell it out for you, huh.

Brytani: Ophelia, you made it. You're a 4-star celeb.

Ophelia: Wh-What? We didn't even win an award tonight!

Brytani: Only like one of those are given fairly. You think anybody's reading Tea Neighjur's legacy thread? Nope! It'll be your turn soon, my fellow Proper Celebrity!

Brytani: Trust me, I can tell. You'd be sparkling if the Watcher hadn't turned that feature off.

Things did feel… different. Maybe Brytani has a point.

Ophelia: Oh my Watcher! I think you're right!

Brytani: Go out there and pose for that crowd. You've earned it.

Ophelia basks in the flashing lights as some of her fans whisper excitedly amongst themselves and others take pictures of her and shower her in praise.

"She's slaying tonight!" "YASSS QUEEN!" "Mommy! Sorry. Mommy! Sorry. Mommy! SORRY! MO-"

Ophelia tries her hardest to stay humble, but just for tonight, she allows herself to be a little self-absorbed. After all, becoming a Proper Celebrity is something to feel good about!

While all of this has been happening, Xander's just been enjoying his drink, unable to talk to anybody else at the bar because they're all celebrities.

Octavia's waiting for her husband, because she's too juiced to realize he already left without her lmao

[coochiequeens]

Good News for women in literature

CNN — 

The 2024 Nobel Prize in literature has been awarded to Han Kang, a South Korean author, for her “intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life.”

Han, 53, began her career with a group of poems in a South Korean magazine, before making her prose debut in 1995 with a short story collection.

She later began writing longer prose works, most notably “The Vegetarian,” one of her first books to be translated into English. The novel, which won the Man Booker International Prize in 2016, charts a young woman’s attempt to live a more “plant-like” existence after suffering macabre nightmares about human cruelty.

Han is the first South Korean author to win the literature prize, and just the 18th woman out of the 117 prizes awarded since 1901. The prize, announced in Sweden on Thursday, carries a cash award of 11 million Swedish kronor ($1 million).

In a statement posted to Facebook on Thursday, South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol described Han’s win as “a great achievement in the history of Korean literature” and a “national occasion.” He added: “Han has turned the painful scars of our modern history into great literature.”

Much of Han’s work poses the question, voiced by a character in her 2019 novel “Europa,” whose protagonist is wracked by nightmares: “If you were able to live as you desire, what would you do with your life?”

Although many of Han’s protagonists are women, her prose works are often narrated from the perspective of men.

“Before my wife turned vegetarian, I’d always thought of her as completely unremarkable in every way,” her novel “The Vegetarian” begins. “However, if there wasn’t any special attraction, nor did any particular drawbacks present themselves, and therefore there was no reason for the two of us not to get married.”

A selection of Han Kang's books on display at the Swedish Academy in Stockholm. Jessica Gow/AP

Originally written and published in Korean, “The Vegetarian” was translated by Deborah Smith, who was 28 at the time. Smith, by her own admission, was “monolingual until the age of 21,” and only chose to pursue Korean due to a lack of English-Korean translators.

The Swedish Academy lauded Han’s work for her “unique awareness of the connections between body and soul, the living and the dead.” Through her “poetic and experimental style,” the Academy said, Han “has become an innovator in contemporary prose.”

Anna-Karin Palm, a member of the Nobel Committee for literature, said readers unfamiliar with Han’s work should begin with “Human Acts,” a 2014 novel reflecting on the 1980 Gwangju Uprising, when more than 100 civilians were killed during pro-democracy demonstrations led by students in the South Korean city.

“Human Acts” shows how “the living and the dead are always intertwined and how these kinds of traumas stay in a population for generations,” Palm said at Thursday’s announcement ceremony.

But Han’s “intense, lyrical” writing almost acts as consolation in the face of this historical violence, Palm added. “Her very tender, precise prose in itself almost becomes a counterforce to the brutal noisiness of power,” she said.

Han’s novels rocketed up South Korea’s bestseller lists following the announcement. As of Friday morning, her books occupied all of the top 10 spots in popular online retailer Yes24’s chart for Korean titles. The bookseller told CNN over the phone that three of them — “Human Acts,” “The Vegetarian” and “I Do Not Bid Farewell” — had racked up combined sales of 70,000 units during the 14 hours immediately following the news.

At the Seoul flagship of bookstore chain Kyobo Book Centre, shoppers welcomed Han’s win. “I’m very proud of her,” high-school teacher Choi Ji-hye told CNN, adding that she had been “shocked” to hear the news.

For engineering student Kim Jee-heon, meanwhile, the announcement sparked a newfound interest in the author’s work. “This is my first time hearing about her, but… I was really amazed to hear that a Korean woman writer had won the prize, so I came here to look for her books.”

Elsewhere, several high-profile figures paid tribute to the novelist via social media, including musicians RM and V, members of the K-pop group BTS. “I read ‘Human Acts’ in the army,” the latter wrote on Instagram Stories. “Congratulations!”

Before the announcement, Ellen Mattson, another member of the committee, detailed how the judging panel sets about selecting each year’s literature laureate.

“We start with a very long list of around 220 names,” Mattson said. “Then we have to navigate through this enormous mass of names – and there we need the help of experts from different parts of the world.”

Eventually, the committee reaches a collection of “about 20 names,” which is then narrowed down to a shortlist of five authors. “That’s where the real work starts,” Mattson said.

Each committee member then has to “read everything by these five writers” as they begin to home in on a single winner.

Announcing the award, Mats Malm, permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, said Han was “having an ordinary day” and had “just finished supper with her son” when he phoned to congratulate her.

“She wasn’t really prepared for this, but we have begun to discuss preparations for December,” he said. The Nobel Prize award ceremony takes place in Stockholm on December 10, the anniversary of Alfred Nobel’s death in 1896.

[dankusner]

OBITUARY

KRIS KRISTOFFERSON

Country music superstar, A-list Hollywood actor

LOS ANGELES — Kris Kristofferson, a Rhodes scholar with a deft writing style and rough charisma, died Saturday.

He was 88.

The country music superstar and A-list Hollywood actor died at his home on Maui, Hawaii, family spokeswoman Ebie McFarland said in an email.

McFarland said Kristofferson died peacefully, surrounded by his family.

No cause was given.

Starting in the late 1960s, the Brownsville native wrote such classics standards as “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” “Help Me Make it Through the Night,” “For the Good Times” and “Me and Bobby McGee.”

While Kristofferson was a singer, many of his songs were best known as performed by others, whether Ray Price crooning “For the Good Times” or Janis Joplin belting out “Me and Bobby McGee.”

He also starred opposite Ellen Burstyn in director Martin Scorsese’s 1974 film Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore , starred opposite Barbra Streisand in the 1976 A Star Is Born and acted alongside Wesley Snipes in Marvel’s Blade in 1998.

Kristofferson, who could recite William Blake from memory, wove intricate folk music lyrics about loneliness and tender romance into popular country music.

With his long hair and bell-bottomed slacks and counterculture songs influenced by Bob Dylan, he represented a new breed of country songwriters along with such peers as Willie Nelson, John Prine and Tom T. Hall.

“There’s no better songwriter alive than Kris Kristofferson,” Nelson said during a November 2009 award ceremony for Kristofferson held by BMI.

“Everything he writes is a standard, and we’re all just going to have to live with that.”

He was a Golden Gloves boxer and football player in college, received a master’s degree in English from Merton College at the University of Oxford in England and turned down an appointment to teach at the Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., to pursue songwriting in Nashville. Hoping to break into the industry, he worked as a part-time janitor at Columbia Records’ Music Row studio.

At times, the legend of Kristofferson was larger than real life. Johnny Cash liked to tell a mostly exaggerated story of how Kristofferson, a former Army pilot, landed a helicopter on Cash’s lawn to give him a tape of “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” with a beer in one hand.

Over the years in interviews, Kristofferson said with all respect to Cash, while he did land a helicopter at Cash’s house, the Man in Black wasn’t even home at the time, the demo tape was a song that no one ever actually cut and he certainly couldn’t fly a helicopter holding a beer.

In a 2006 interview with The Associated Press, he said he might not have had a career without Cash.

“Shaking his hand when I was still in the Army backstage at the Grand Ole Opry was the moment I’d decided I’d come back,”

Kristofferson said. “It was electric. He kind of took me under his wing before he cut any of my songs. He cut my first record that was record of the year. He put me on stage the first time.”

In 1973, he married fellow songwriter Rita Coolidge and together they had a successful duet career that earned them two Grammy awards.

They divorced in 1980.

He retired from performing and recording in 2021.

Sinéad O’Connor slams old pal Kris Kristofferson for toxic masculinity

Sinéad O’Connor – aka Magda Davitt, or Shuhada’ Sadaqat – is back on Twitter with a vengeance these days and has since shut down her account.

Over the weekend, Sinéad sent out a number of pleas from County Wicklow regarding her missing 14-year-old son Shane, who thankfully was found safe and sound on Monday morning.

Even the police got involved, and when Shane was found “safe and well,” Sinéad tweeted “alhamdulillah,” Arabic for “praise be to God.” (You’ll remember that she converted to Islam last year.)

The 52-year-old Sinéad also let the world know about a long-ago fling with the singer/actor Kris Kristofferson, who’s now 82.

A fan of Sinéad’s on Twitter shared the true story of how Kristofferson came to Sinéad’s aid in the days after she shredded a photo of the Pope on "Saturday Night Live" in 1992, and faced the wrath of an angry nation afterward.

Not long after, Sinéad was one of the featured performers at a Bob Dylan tribute concert at Madison Square Garden, and the crowd booed lustily.

Kristofferson was sent to the stage by the organizers to take the visibly upset Sinéad off, but instead, he told her not to let the “bastards get you down.”

So with Kristofferson’s words of encouragement, she continued, singing a capella about injustice and war, and he was the first one onstage afterward to give her a hug.

The aforementioned fan, Audra Williams, shared the story on Twitter in the context of the new Gillette ad that’s whipped up so much debate.

Williams tweeted, “The recent Gillette ad has started/furthered a lot of conversations about what alternatives to toxic masculinity look like. This is it.” Underneath the tweet was a photo of Sinéad being comforted by Kristofferson onstage during the Dylan show.

Sinéad, using her @magdadavitt77 handle, offered her take on the fan’s opinion and it was pretty surprising, not to mention crass.

“I would not agree Kris wasn’t toxically masculine. He took full advantage when he got the chance and then immediately turned nasty once…” and we won’t go on given that we’re a family site.

She ended the quote with the hashtag #NoHeroOfMine.

Sinéad further elaborated on Monday morning.

“In case my use of the words ‘took advantage’ [in] an earlier tweet might be misconstrued I wish to make clear that in no way, shape or form was I in any way sexually assaulted by Kris Kristofferson. And that the one time we did have sex, it was consensual.”

Sinéad seems to have made quite an impression on Kristofferson.

He wrote a song 10 years ago called “Sister Sinéad” in which he called her a “bald-headed, brave little girl.” Guess the feeling isn’t mutual.

[darkfires]

I'm gonna be real with you guys I literally could not care less about two rich white american women not getting nominated for the most pointless and meaningless cash-in phony award ceremony in history. the movie was not even good

[allycat75]

Hey Boston Dumb Fuck 👋 ! Just another friendly reminder that your poisonous snake of a political website is in no way, shape or form deserving of the Spirit of Service award you are about to receive this week.

(Settle in, this one is long.)

Only another thing to weigh on you heavily like a bad omen.

I hear you won't be able to be there in person because your mainframe will be full, having been programmed to receite the CAA backed bullshit in the Patty Hearst Story meets Joe vs. The Volcano satire filming in Greece, apparently (the third in what I like to call the Gas Leak trilogy- along with Honey, Don't and The Materialists- because it is doubtful you have the emotional strength to remember how bad I suspect you will be in them, considering you became a CAA automoton in real life and find it difficult to summon up actual human emotions).

It is a good thing, because it would be doubtful you and your clout chaser partner Mark could pass the red face test in a room with real humanitarians and philanthropists. Let's look at the ASP accomplishments this year that bought won you this award, also given to Jeff Bezos one year (and all after your delusional "Shutter Island" style ceremonies to an arrogant racist antisemite*; big, soul crushing year for you, wasn't it buddy!):

Not long after the blissful kinda nuptials you actually had the balls to have a discussion about Antisemitism and Education. Only problem is it is really hard to take you seriously, after flashing the toxic, ill fitting Nazi-loving ring for the contractually obligated amount of times, Secretary of Education Miguel Cardona must have punched you in the virtual gut when he was rightfully indignante about those who chose to normalize antisemitism. Ouch!

Then came the disgraceful boondoggle to DC to start the year off on the "right' tone, speaking with dubiously ethical journalists, claiming the "truth can be tricky" and giving vague as fuck answers about the future the site, with no data or metrics to see if that was what the market needed or required. Just some frilly language about reaching the young people (the most information savvy generation) and expanding it to even more complicated topics, like AI. Neophytes teaching neophytes, if I remember correctly, right? Sounds like a solid plan to me! Didn't you have a pretentious thing about the evils of the egoic narrative at one point? So what makes you the arbiters of such delicate information that no one asked for and probably doesn't need or want.

Also at that DC debacle, I remember you and Marky Mark taking a whole bunch of pictures at what looked like a (mostly) white sausage fest, probably because anyone worth talking to was doing the hard work of the people as democracy is on the precipice of burning down and couldn't be bothered with your little hobby (that should also tell you why you don't deserve this award).

Your next post was a discussion about gun control, that provided nothing, except to waste Jamie Raskin's time and giving a MAGA minion a platform, whose response to the recent Georgia mass shooting was likely "thoughts and prayers" as he was cashing his monthly NRA check.

Finally, we have the Q&A sessions, with the pre-planned, not at all organic, questions with the youth of America. The first was about financial planning, with three white multimillionaire males (and Mark)- 'nough said. The next on civic engagement, was a bit less tone-deaf, but just as placating, providing more pap for students that already receive white-washed information, free of anything that will make them "feel bad" (or at least some of them, anyway).

I mentioned the League of Women Voters in a previous post, but any of these sites (plus thousands more) could provide more accurate, comprehensive, relevant and consistent information than your little Highlights for Children for Poltics site:

So enjoy your participation trophy, you out of touch rich white privleged hypocrite. I hope this gives you the boost in numbers you need to "earn" the next dreadful "tell-not-show" performance you are going to bless us with. At least your mom I still stunningly proud, right?

*PS- to all the people telling you you have to stay "married" to the selfish little Nazi dumb dumb wifey a while longer because only a year will make you look like a letch since she is so young and looks like jail bait (first, let that sink in- this is your life decision in black and white, fucking idiot), how will it look when (not if) it comes out what a deplorable human being she is. Even at this point, you can't claim plausible deniability and that makes you a Nazi/racist lover for at least a year; that's bad enough and your most trusted advisors (the ones who got you into this sham, BTW) want you to suffer more. Most likely these are the same people who would throw you and the reminents of your reputation under the Hollywood Star Red Bus Tour if it suited their overall strategy. You are not a knight or a bishop in this game (please don't tell me you thought you were the King?), you are but a Pawn good sir. So if you want to live to play again, you need to get ahead of this. Call it now and spill everything. Your reputation is already in the shitter and your next four movies are most likely going to tank hard so you have nothing to lose and only your life to gain. Get ahead of the story and tell the truth before it breaks anyway and it just looks like another privleged white dude making excuses (cough* Justin Timberlake, cough* Alec Baldwin, cough* Louis CK...). Or don't- you seem to be comfortable listening to the dumbest voice in the room and picking the absolute worst choice for yourself. So, good luck with that, dumb fuck!