#even the teachers unions would have turned against them

[glitchfiles]

only 'til dawn. [ljn]

pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader

wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+

warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...

note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D

"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.

you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.

"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.

there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!

it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work. 

"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.

normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.

he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.

“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.

"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.

"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod. 

how bad can it be? 

he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.

"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.

"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?" 

you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."

he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.

once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.

the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now. 

the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.

you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.

a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.

warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.

“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.

“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again. 

jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples. 

“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”

“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.” 

you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his. 

reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile. 

“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?” 

you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.

you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.

“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”

“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.

“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.” 

“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.

“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.

you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth. 

“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that. 

“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over. 

jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.

“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.

“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace. 

he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy. 

“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”

your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.

“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”

“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.

your brain goes blank in an instant. 

he’s deep. so deep. too deep!

you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust. 

“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force. 

it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs. 

it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs. 

“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.

a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually. 

you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too. 

the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.

this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.

“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.

give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.

you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.

you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”

jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…

★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3

© glitchfiles

[thegeyisshowing]

Oh, baby....

Fluff level 10000000%

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Summary: Your wife Larissa and you sit down and have a talk. Absolute fluff and more chapters to come!

Warnings: None

Chapter 1: Did you just say that?

Y/n and Larissa stood hand in hand, their fingers entwined like the roots of two ancient trees. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the idyllic countryside just outside of Nevermore where they had chosen to build their life together.

It had been three years since they had exchanged vows under a canopy of oak trees, surrounded by their closest friends and family. The two had joined their lives in a union that defied conventions and captured hearts from everyone around, even their students.

Their love had grown stronger with each passing day, a testament to the undeniable connection they shared. The students and other teachers gossiped about them "sneaking around," but they paid no attention. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As they strolled through the lush meadow that stretched out behind their charming farmhouse, Y/N's heart swelled with happiness. She looked up at her beloved Larissa, whose striking blue eyes sparkled with an undeniable joy.

"Lissa," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. Every day with you feels like a dream come true."

Larissa squeezed your hand gently and smiled down at her. "Honey, you are my everything. I cherish every moment we share together."

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it a sense of anticipation, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter of their story to unfold.

That evening, after a delicious homemade dinner, the couple sat together on their cozy porch swing, gazing up at the summer starlit sky. Y/N nestled her head against Larissa's shoulder, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

As the night went on, you turned to your wife with a mysterious glint in her eye. "Lissa, I have something to ask you," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

You looked up as your heart raced. "What is it, my love? You're making me curious."

A slow, radiant smile spread across your face. "I think... I think I want to have a baby."

Time seemed to stand still as Larissa processed your words. Her eyes widened with disbelief and then overflowed with tears of joy. She threw her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"Oh, Y/N, you've just made me the happiest person in the world!" Larissa exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "A baby? Our baby? As in you want to make a mini us?"

You nodded, your own eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, Lissa, our baby. I have been really thinking about it, and it feels like there is a hole right here." You pointed to your chest and looked down. "Like I can't stop the dreams, and honestly, I don't want to. I know I said I didn't want kids, but this big house needs little feet running around. And so do I." You told her the last bit was almost a whisper.

"My love, I never wanted to push you, but I want that too. But I would sacrifice that to be with you. Are you completely positive you want to do this? She looked deep into your eyes, and you whispered, "Absolutely honey"

The night sky seemed to shimmer with newfound magic as you held each other, envisioning the beautiful journey that lay ahead. Your love, which had already defied so many odds, was now blossoming into a new chapter, one filled with hope, dreams, and the promise of a family of your own.

Little did you two know that this tiny miracle soon to be growing within you would bring the two of you even closer together, forging an unbreakable bond that would transcend all challenges. A true love story, which had captured the schools' full attention, was about to become even more extraordinary as they embarked on the adventure of parenthood.

[sapphic-moon-child]

Oh, baby....

Fluff level 10000000%

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Summary: Your wife Larissa and you sit down and have a talk. Absolute fluff and more chapters to come!

Warnings: None

Chapter 1: Did you just say that?

Y/n and Larissa stood hand in hand, their fingers entwined like the roots of two ancient trees. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the idyllic countryside just outside of Nevermore where they had chosen to build their life together.

It had been three years since they had exchanged vows under a canopy of oak trees, surrounded by their closest friends and family. The two had joined their lives in a union that defied conventions and captured hearts from everyone around, even their students.

Their love had grown stronger with each passing day, a testament to the undeniable connection they shared. The students and other teachers gossiped about them "sneaking around," but they paid no attention. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As they strolled through the lush meadow that stretched out behind their charming farmhouse, Y/N's heart swelled with happiness. She looked up at her beloved Larissa, whose striking blue eyes sparkled with an undeniable joy.

"Lissa," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. Every day with you feels like a dream come true."

Larissa squeezed your hand gently and smiled down at her. "Honey, you are my everything. I cherish every moment we share together."

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it a sense of anticipation, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter of their story to unfold.

That evening, after a delicious homemade dinner, the couple sat together on their cozy porch swing, gazing up at the summer starlit sky. Y/N nestled her head against Larissa's shoulder, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

As the night went on, you turned to your wife with a mysterious glint in her eye. "Lissa, I have something to ask you," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

You looked up as your heart raced. "What is it, my love? You're making me curious."

A slow, radiant smile spread across your face. "I think... I think I want to have a baby."

Time seemed to stand still as Larissa processed your words. Her eyes widened with disbelief and then overflowed with tears of joy. She threw her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"Oh, Y/N, you've just made me the happiest person in the world!" Larissa exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "A baby? Our baby? As in you want to make a mini us?"

You nodded, your own eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, Lissa, our baby. I have been really thinking about it, and it feels like there is a hole right here." You pointed to your chest and looked down. "Like I can't stop the dreams, and honestly, I don't want to. I know I said I didn't want kids, but this big house needs little feet running around. And so do I." You told her the last bit was almost a whisper.

"My love, I never wanted to push you, but I want that too. But I would sacrifice that to be with you. Are you completely positive you want to do this? She looked deep into your eyes, and you whispered, "Absolutely honey"

The night sky seemed to shimmer with newfound magic as you held each other, envisioning the beautiful journey that lay ahead. Your love, which had already defied so many odds, was now blossoming into a new chapter, one filled with hope, dreams, and the promise of a family of your own.

Little did you two know that this tiny miracle soon to be growing within you would bring the two of you even closer together, forging an unbreakable bond that would transcend all challenges. A true love story, which had captured the schools' full attention, was about to become even more extraordinary as they embarked on the adventure of parenthood.

[nerdieforpedro]

Finally Away

Chapter 2 of “This is the Neighborhood Din” Series

Din Djarin (Modern AU) x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 3k

Warnings: Divorce, domestic violence (both referenced and actual), burns, scratches, blood, stalking, description of injuries, self-esteem issues, matchmaking?, domestic fluff, soft moments and hugs

Summary: Sierra has arrived to her aunt's home and meets their new neighbors Din and little Grogu. She didn't plan on her ex-husband showing up before her long drive - that man decided to ensure she had his disgusting marks on her arms.

Notes: In this chapter there is domestic violence and descriptions of Sierra's injuries as well as past incidents with her ex-husband. Likely will be mentioned again but not with injuries. There's also a burn mentioned as well that Sierra caused.

Special thanks to @pedroshotwifey for beta reading and @julesonrecord for having these resources in their Cherry Wine fic. It’s an excellent read, just make sure to review the warnings as it is marked DDNE.

I would have posted this earlier but I didn’t get a notification about the poll results. 😭 My bad.

Domestic Violence resources (In case you or someone you know need them):

United States

Canada

United Kingdom

European Union

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist/ This is the Neighborhood Din Series

The drive from Maryland to New York State hasn’t been that bad, just so long. Nearly seven hours. Sierra had planned to leave earlier than she did. It was her last day in her apartment, she was going to leave the keys since all her belongings she planned to take were already in her car. It had been six months since the divorce was final but a year and a half that she had lived apart from Darius.

Sierra knew he hadn’t cared about her, at least the last few years of their marriage, not after those beatings started. She didn’t stay because she loved him, falling out of love with him was at the first punch. She’d been confused at first, he’d never been violent before, always kind. But when Sierra thought on it after the second bloody nose, she wondered if this was happening because something was wrong with her. When he hit her and this time, kept hitting her in her stomach after that last time he came home, she let him sleep and then poured boiled hot grits on him. She’d already looked into getting an apartment by herself and was going to stay with a friend for a week until it was ready. Darius never did press charges against her or told anyone how he got those burns on his abdomen and chest, Sierra assumed that he was embarrassed that his wife who he had been beating got one over on him. After she left, she needed to try and figure out what was next and who to turn to for help.

Thankfully, her aunt Johnnie Mae was more than willing to take her in after she’d been able to save some money by living in that cheap apartment. It almost made the hour long commute to the middle school she taught at worth it. Saving money was her priority so she would have some money to give her Aunt for letting her stay with her outside of New York City. The plan was working, she was able to get rid of clothes and stuff she didn’t absolutely need. That way, everything would fit in her small blue Nissan. Her aunt had said that she didn’t need to offer her any money, let alone rent while she stayed with her but that’s not how she was raised. Before they passed, Sierra’s parents stressed being responsible, paying your debts and taking care of yourself. She’s failed at that last one.

That morning, all she had to do was get up use the bathroom before leaving and leave. That was all the science teacher had planned. She even had a new job set up at a middle school substitute teaching next week. She was open to picking up a part time job until she could get a full time one as keeping a work history going and money coming is was more important than ever.

The barrier to her leaving on time was Darius himself. He sat outside of her small blue car waiting for her. Darius was a few inches taller than Sierra but slender and full of mean streaks. One would think a so called ‘short king’ as he often called himself would be a bit nicer to anyone, let alone his wife but no. The bastard beat Sierra, leaving bruises, cuts and made sure never to break or sprain anything enough to need an urgent care or hospital visit. He left to be with his mistress a month after Sierra burnt him with hot grits as he lay sleep in bed.

The divorce as far as property went was split down the middle, even though the end of their relationship was anything but amicable. Sierra hadn’t see him since the divorce decree was handed down in court, but now he sits here blocking her path away from him finally, no longer tied to him.

“What do you want?” The venom in her voice is clear as he moves toward her.

“Just wanted to see you off. I mean, we had something special for a while there you know.” He attempted to touch her face and she smacked his hand away. Darius grabbed it and her other hand as she struggled against him. “You always fought me on everything after becoming a full time teacher. Being full of yourself. Now you’re going to be fat, broke and alone. You thought it was hard to get married before? No man’s going to be looking for you!”

“This is what you came here for Darius?! Just to try and intimidate me?” Sierra pushed forward, making his legs hit the bumper of a sedan parked next to her, he fell back, but grabbed her forearms hard, digging his fingers into them. She yelled and tried to shake him off but he dug deeper. “You’re a sad bastard who left me for a woman who’s now left you for an old rich man. She’s riding his dick somewhere in Italy!” Her knee connected with his crotch and his grip loosened. Sierra was able to wiggle free and run toward the driver’s side of her car, quickly getting in. She started driving only checking her arms when she finally stopped at a McDonald’s.

Her caramel skin was a deep red, nearly purple with blood as he broke the skin on both arms. She made a stop at a CVS and got some bandages to clean and wrap her arms before continuing on her drive. After a few more hours she stopped crying and determined that he wasn’t worth it, he hadn’t been for quite some time. Just be glad you’re no longer tied to him. If he shows up again, I can use a brick on him or whatever I have nearby. Maybe I need to carry one of those switchblades. As she crossed over from Pennsylvania to New York, she wondered how she’d hide the bandages from her Aunt. She hadn’t shared the full story with her, only that he’d become distant, they would get in shouting matches and the cheating. Sierra hadn’t told her about the physical abuse. She didn’t know how to explain why it went on for so long. She barely wanted to tell the one friend she felt safe enough to move in with for that week. Thankfully she didn’t judge her, just supported Sierra. She was eternally grateful for that.

Pulling up to her aunt’s home she was completely unprepared for the man she saw. The opposite of her ex-husband was sitting on her aunt’s porch. Putting his shirt back on. No one said he had to. Sierra thought, her aunt let go of her and pinched her shoulder.

“You’ll burn a hole into the man if you keep staring at him like that.” Ms. Harris teased.

“How could I not look at him? Who is he?” Sierra inquired. She grabbed her purse from the car and walked over with her aunt to the porch.

Din started to get a bit cold after finishing his glass of water and stood to slip his shirt back on. He still felt her eyes on him and turned to see Ms. Harris walking to the house with a caramel beauty who’s calling his new neighbor ‘auntie.’ Maybe she was just here visiting, his eyes cut to her car before focusing back on her as they drew closer to the porch. She’s staying for a little while at least, I’m not in the market for just a short time though.

As she made her way up the stairs, her black shorts bunched between her thighs. In an effort not to stare, his eyes scanned her legs which were thick and jiggled along with the rolls of her belly that it appeared like she was trig to hide under her large purple t-shirt. She was wearing a black sweatshirt which he suspected her would find equally soft arms covered by the fabric. Her face appeared tired, he assumed from the long drive, but there seemed to be a remnant of sadness in her honey eyes with some redness in her cheeks. Her hair was in tight pun with a matching purple scarf tied at the top of her head. It wasn’t a handshake she offered but a small wave and Din couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin and chuckle.

“H-Hi. I’m Sierra, nice to meet you. Seems you’ve met my Aunt Mae already.” Though clearly nervous, her voice had a dulcet tone to it that had Din exhale to keep from clearing his throat to make it too obvious. He raised his hand and returned her small wave, stepping forward to close the distance. He looked down at her, keeping his grin.

“I’m Din. Your aunt, Ms. Harris has been so welcoming to me and my son Grogu. It’s our first day here. Pleasure to meet you Sierra.”

He is taller and broader up close and his hands are….this man appears to be massive in every sense. Even his voice feels like it’s wrapping around me. Am I okay? My shorts are halfway in my crotch and I know my eyes are puffy and red along with my entire face. This is one of the days, I wish I had more melanin so everything from earlier in the day wouldn’t be on my damn face.

“Well dear, you mind helping me make some dinner while Din keeps an eye on the kids? You missed lunch.” Ms. Harris elbows Sierra in the side and she winces as her aunt’s arm grazes her forearm.

“Sure, lead the way. Um, are you staying for dinner Din?” Sierra asked and Din nodded with Johnnie Mae adding that of course he was, he bought her groceries as a thank you for watching little Grogu for a few hours.

“I really do appreciate it Ms. Harris. I was able to get a lot done in the house so we’ll be set for our first night in the house. The kids we be fine until dinner’s ready.” Rolling his shoulders back, he puts his hands in his pockets and his grin becomes a smile. Sierra’s lips part slightly but no sound comes out, she really hopes nothing came out. It didn’t but her aunt is ever watchful of their interaction and leads her niece into the kitchen. Din turns to the side to watch Sierra walk away, paying special attention to her wide hips and plump backside. I think I should find out how long she’ll be here. If she needs to leave, maybe I can convince her to come back through and visit. Such thoughts were distracting Din from the children and he heard a cry. Delia was sitting in the grass giving a dirty look to both Grogu and Quinton. “Well, I am a man of my word. Let me see what’s going on.” As he made his way down the stairs, Johnnie Mae peeped at the door to Mae sure Din was out of earshot.

“Tell me what you think, I mean I was going to set you up with that boy Leon because he seemed nice, but Din is a grown man. Good and grown man dear. I don’t see a ring and-“

“It’s too soon I can’t even think about that right now. Especially today, I look an entire mess.” And that rat bastard fucked up my arms. Even if my arms were fine, I’m not even wearing my cute leggings. Damn.

“I didn’t ask you all that girl.” Johnnie Mae got out a pot and threw in some chicken broth followed two bags of vegetable medleys complete with carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. “I asked you what you thought. I understand you might not feel like you’re ready. Doesn’t mean you can look.”

Sighing, Sierra washed her hands, got the chicken out of the fridge and started seasoning it before plopping it in a frying pan to cook in some butter. “He’s the complete opposite of my ex-husband. Which is entirely welcome. I just don’t know if I can….” Johnnie Mae hip bumped her niece as an indication of getting a non-answer. Sierra sighed again, “I’d climb him like a tree auntie. I’m not ready, but if I was at all. He would be the first choice.”

“Just need to know your tastes have changed. No more assholes Sierra.” Johnnie Mae laughed and so did Sierra, shaking her head. On that she agreed. The pair finished up dinner making homemade chicken noddle soup. Something that everyone ate two bowels of. Din and Grogu ate three. Delia and Quinton were picked up by their parents when the sun started setting around five in the evening. They thanked Ms. Harris and hugged her before introducing themselves to Din. They suggested that Ms. Harris could watch little Grogu before and after school. That way Grogu could play with Delia and Quinton as they likely were going to go to the same elementary school. The family departed leaving Din, Grogu, Johnnie Mae and Sierra.

Din suggested he could wash the dishes and Sierra rejected his help because he was a guest. Technically she was too, but she’d be living here. It was decided that he would wash and she would dry.

Grogu found a comfy spot on the couch as Ms. Harris sat next to him. “Little G, we’re going to watch a classic me and you. Look at this.” She turned on ‘Winnie the Pooh.’ Ms. Harris started singing along and Grogu joined in, bobbing their heads side to side.

Din’s hands were covered in soapy water, scrubbing the dishes before rising them and handing them to Sierra to dry. They chatted about the merits of Pooh and Piglet’s adventures. They laughed that before the episode was over, both Ms. Harris and Grogu were asleep on the couch and arm wrapped around each other. Din snapped a few pictures with his phone. Sierra hesitated, but asked if he could send her the pictures he took. Din was going to suggest that she take her own, but understood that she was asking for his number without saying it. Trying to be subtle. That’s cute of her. He agreed and send her the pictures, the small smile on her face felt like a part of a curtain had been pulled back.

Back at the sink, dishes slowly made their way into the cabinets. Sierra’s sleeves were getting wet and it made her arms itchy so she pulled them up, and reached for the plate Din was handing and she took the plate. She started drying and looked down at her forearms, some blood had soaked through. Panic set in for the second time today, though not from fear of her safety. Instead it was that the easy laughter would stop, there was nothing funny about her arms or what had made them that way. Din stopped washing and wiped his wet hands on his pants.

“You don’t have to tell me how it happened. Just…are you safe Sierra? Is the person who did that after you?” Keeping his voice flat was the only way not to yell, he shouldn’t yell at her. It would be misdirected. It looked like they were fresh maybe even today. She looked up at him and the brightness was gone from them, only panic. Is that why she came here? How fall far had she driven? She did seem to have a lot of stuff in her car.

“No. Thankfully I’ll never see him again. He has no reason to find me. That ended six months ago. I’m…” Closing her eyes, she swallowed the saliva building in her throat. “Divorced. Six months ago. He was…just the worst. Could you just…”

“I’m not going to act like I didn’t see them. If don’t want me to say anything it’s not mine to tell. But does she know?” His eyes shift over to the couch before refocusing on her. He’d rather know this bastard’s name, just in case but she didn’t say it and now isn’t the time to press. He hesitated, but placed a hand between her shoulder blades. Sierra flinched but when Din began to pull his arm back she turned and reached for his hand.

“Please don’t do that. I’m not fragile. I know you’re not going to do anything I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have touched-“

“Then you don’t say sorry either.” Sighing, she looked down at his hand and held it as to shake it. “Let’s start over. Please Din and I’ll tell her. I kinda have to with these.” A weak smile matched a soft chuckle. He missed the smile he’d seen when he sent her pictures a few minutes ago. Shaking her hand, he nodded.

“I won’t apologize then, but I disagree, you are fragile. It’s a fact for now. You won’t always be, but it’s okay.” He didn’t release her hand. “Is it alright if I hug you and then take a look at your arms? You have more bandages?” Sierra nods and doesn’t speak, she folds her arms around Din’s torso. His hands returned to her back, rubbing it slowly and started stepping side to side, rocking her. Short whimpers came from her, quieting as the pair swayed.

“I have more in the car, but I can take care of that. Just a little more. A little while longer.” Sierra was conflicted in asking him to continue to hold her, but she didn’t want to let go. She felt it was selfish to ask this of him upon just meeting him today. He just moved in with his son no less. That’s plenty on his plate.

Din didn’t answer her. He didn’t release her either. They continued to remain in each other’s arms as Johnnie Mae peered over her shoulder from the couch. Now truly aware of why her niece has said she’s not ready, she wouldn’t push Sierra.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed in the kitchen embracing but Sierra let go first citing that Din should get little Grogu home, thanking him. He told her it wasn’t an issue and told her he was going to bring in her bags before leaving. She blinked and Ms. Harris told him the keys were near the door. The older woman shot a look at Sierra warning her to stay put. After bringing them in, Din said goodnight and scooped up Grogu taking him home.

A pivotal first impression had been made.

Chapter One. Chapter Three

Space Buddies: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl

@harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty

@bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse @littlemisspascal

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

David Rowe, American Financial Review

* * * *

Harris and Walz work through Labor Day while Trump golfs and complains

September 3, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

The Democratic ticket and surrogates were out in force on Labor Day weekend—including Kamala Harris, Tim Walz, President Joe Biden, Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, and Gwen Walz. That is a formidable lineup. The Harris-Walz ticket is campaigning like they want to win. Kamala Harris continues to exhibit confidence and positivity as she refines her call-and-response stump speech while courting the labor vote. Tim Walz is on the offensive against Trump, while Gwen Walz is going “full English teacher” on Trump.

Joe Biden gave a spirited pro-union speech that attacked Trump's anti-union history. See Campaign Event in Pittsburgh | Joe Biden. Joe introduced Kamala with a warm embrace and a smile. Harris then gave her stump speech (with variations and riffs). See Campaign Event in Pittsburgh | Kamala Harris.

Donald Trump and JD Vance stayed off the campaign trail on Labor Day--which may be their best strategy to stop the erosion of their support among eligible voters. See The Independent, Harris, Biden court union vote at first official joint rally as Trump accused of ‘dodging’ Labor Day.

But Trump couldn’t help himself and spent much of the day on his vanity social media platform posting statements that appeal to people who subscribe to Truth Social—i.e., Trump's most hard-core supporters. But even on Truth Social, the Harris-Walz campaign was on the offensive, posting a “Labor Day” picture of Harris and Walz in split screen with Trump.

The Harris-Walz portion of the photo was superimposed with the words:

Vice President Harris with union workers in Detroit

Gov. Walz with union workers in Milwaukee

Vice President Harris and President Biden with union workers in Pittsburgh

The Trump portion of the split screen had the following words superimposed:

Trump . . . golfing?

Does it matter that the Harris-Walz campaign is trolling Trump on his social media platform? Yes. Trump is famously thin-skinned and easily provoked. When provoked, he makes unforced errors—a lot of them. Over the next two months, Trump will continue to remind voters why they are tired of his stale agenda of hate and division.

But . . . as we enter the final two months of the campaign it would serve us well to recall the words of Michelle Obama at the Democratic Convention:

So, no matter how good we feel tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day, this is going to be an uphill battle. So folks, we cannot be our own worst enemies. . . because the minute something goes wrong, the minute a lie takes hold, folks, we cannot start wringing our hands. We cannot get a Goldilocks complex about whether everything is just right. And we cannot indulge our anxieties about whether this country will elect someone like Kamala, instead of doing everything we can to get someone like Kamala elected.

The Trump-Vance campaign has fumbled for an attack line on Kamala Harris for weeks. They have now settled on an attack strategy: pure ugliness and hate. Expect it, ignore it, and focus on registering new voters and urging registered voters to turn out.

It will be difficult to ignore the ugliness, in part, because it will be pervasive—and the media will be complicit by treating Trump's ugly attacks as “politics as usual.”

Elon Musk has turned Twitter into a Trump campaign attack platform against Kamala Harris. Musk is personally posting outright propaganda against Harris. For example, on Monday, Musk posted a picture of Kamala Harris in communist garb with the words:

Kamala vows to be a communist dictator on day one. Can you believe she wears that outfit!?

With his 200 million followers (albeit many of them bots), Musk’s ridiculous ideas will spread like a virus through the hateful MAGA ecosphere.

The good news is that Trump and Vance are “underwater” with favorability ratings, while Kamala Harris has seen a 17-point surge in her favorability rating (to a slight net-positive).

Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo explains that the difference in favorability ratings will help Kamala Harris withstand the ugly attacks to come:

[F]avorability is the prism through which all of us see new attacks, new news. The more positive impression we have of a person, the more we see new information about them in glass-full more than glass-empty terms; we revolve benefits of the doubt in their favor. So, it can be both predictive and protective

See Josh Marshall, Talking Points Memo, Keep an Eye on Those Favorability Numbers.

I would add to Marshall’s comments that Kamala Harris has momentum, likability, decency, and dozens of other positive attributes that will cause voters to give her the benefit of the doubt—while Trump and Vance are increasingly desperate. Just as Kamala Harris will benefit from the “positive lens” of favorability, Trump and Vance will suffer from the “negative lens” of their mean-spirited, misogynistic, judgmental style.

Here's my point: Don’t wince and cringe with every ugly attack thrown at Kamala Harris and Tim Walz over the next two months. Trust that most Americans see through those attacks for what they are—signs of desperation by Trump. We have two months to drive more voters to the polls. There is no time to worry or fret. As Michelle Obama told us at the Democratic convention, “Do something!”

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[denimbex1986]

'David Tennant bounds into the room, friendly, super articulate and energetic.

The actor and Doctor Who favourite, regularly voted the best Doctor by fans, is set to appear once again as the Time Lord in the forthcoming 60th anniversary specials.

The ongoing actors' strike prevents him from talking about those (Doctor Who is now a BBC/Disney co-production and US actors' union Sag-Aftra has been on strike since July).

But we're together, in a room full of books and leftover croissants - clearly actors need sustenance - to talk about Shakespeare, a playwright Tennant calls a "genius" who "had a particular sense of what it is to be a human" and expresses it "in a way no one else really does".

Tennant, who is an associate artist with the Royal Shakespeare Company, is steeped in the Bard. One critic described his Hamlet, which aired on the BBC in 2009, as "theatrical history in the making".

He excelled as Romeo and Richard II and, when we met, had just finished his first day of rehearsals for an already sold out run of Macbeth at London's Donmar Warehouse.

He's no-nonsense about the superstition of only referring to this most atmospheric work as the "Scottish play". Tennant freely uses the word "Macbeth".

But he admits to terrible nerves ahead of the show - however successful you are, it never gets any better, he says.

Renowned actors have been in his shoes; famously Lord Olivier was Macbeth to Vivien Leigh's Lady Macbeth in 1955, Sir Ian McKellen and Dame Judi Dench had their turn in 1976 and Sir Antony Sher and Dame Harriet Walter in 1999.

For Tennant, Shakespearean roles are like "Olympic events for an actor".

"The idea that you're being invited to stand next to these greats and sort of challenge yourself, test yourself against them and see if you've got something new to bring to that… that's part of what's exciting about it."

West Lothian-born Tennant "always wanted to be an actor" (his childhood obsession with Doctor Who had a big part to play in that) and from the way people talked about the plays, "I knew there was something magical about Shakespeare."

But that didn't mean he was immediately hooked when introduced to Macbeth at school - although he's at pains to praise his teacher.

He says the plays were written to be performed and it's "a shame that the first experience of Shakespeare is sitting in a classroom, trying to mouth these words that don't sit in your mouth and don't necessarily make a lot of sense to you at the age of 14".

"That's why a lot of people fall out of love with Shakespeare before they've really had a chance to fall in love."

Tennant fell in love when TAG, a Glasgow theatre company, brought As You Like It to his school's assembly hall. "I didn't necessarily understand every word and some of it felt perhaps a little unnatural and foreign to me". But the teenage Tennant was transported "because it was live and it was happening".

Now his head is brimful of a play that opens with three witches plotting and takes us on a journey of murder and guilt. Tennant says Shakespeare's take is "incredibly modern".

"The way he expresses Macbeth's fear of never sleeping, the torture of being in the restless ecstasy of never being able to close your eyes."

Even for Tennant, though, Shakespeare needs decoding. He tells me, when he opens one of the plays, he "100%" puts the modern translation next to the old. He deciphers the language so theatre audiences don't have to.

"If we're doing our job halfway properly, you shouldn't have to worry about understanding every syllable. You will be transported by it."

There can, though, be layers of meaning that still surprise you 10 weeks into a run, he says. "Usually on a wet Wednesday afternoon matinee, you'll suddenly go 'oh, that's what that line means.'"

Macbeth is one of 18 Shakespeare plays that would have disappeared if, seven years after his death, the actors John Heminges and Henry Condell hadn't published their friend's greatest plays in the First Folio.

That book was the first time the plays had been put together.

Before then, only 18 had been printed, in small paperback editions known as quartos.

The First Folio was registered for publication on 8 November 1623.

There were 750 copies made. Without it, we could have lost all the unprinted plays, around half of Shakespeare's works, including not just Macbeth but Julius Caesar, The Tempest, As You Like It and Twelfth Night.

Four hundred years on, 235 original First Folios are known to survive - 150 are in the US, and about 50 in the UK and Ireland.

The BBC is running a huge amount of content to mark the 400th anniversary. The celebratory season will include the 2018 adaptation of King Lear starring Sir Anthony Hopkins, Shakespeare Live! from the RSC, and a semi-fictionalised comic drama on Radio 4 about the creation of the First Folio.

Tennant says: "The reason that those plays are still performed around the world and the reason that Shakespeare is the cultural colossus that he is, is because that book was published."...

For Tennant, Shakespeare is "weirdly modern" because he captures how complicated it is to be human.

"He writes about the moment he was in, which seems to, by dint of his genius, also be the moment we are in."

Tennant is one of the UK's most exciting actors, known to wider audiences not just for Doctor Who and Broadchurch, but his film role as Barty Crouch Junior in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

But you get the sense that there's even more magic, for Tennant, in performing Shakespeare.

It's why he is celebrating the anniversary of the First Folio, that book that was the first step in creating a legacy for the greatest playwright in the English speaking world.'

[alaffy]

The Gilded Age, Ep. 2x07 – Wonders Never Cease (Spoilers)

I got to admit, while I still enjoy the actors and the characters, I really feel like the writing has taken a step back this season.  Peggy’s story is still interesting and so is George’s.  Bertha’s, most of it is good, except for Winterton (and I think that has to do with the fact that I’m not particularly fond of how the actress plays the character).  Every other storyline has been predictable and boring. 

John is invited to be part of the clockmakers society and now can be considered for a patent.  The Vallet’s daughter tells her father that she did not know he was being run out of town and is coming up with a plan to make sure he can stay and not be a Vallet.  No one cares.

The episode can be broken up into three parts.  The first, are the last few days leading up to the opening of the Brooklyn Bridge.  The second is the day of the opening.  The third is the night/morning after of the opening.

The Days Before:

Marion is clearly unsure about her engagement to Dashell, although she’s convinced herself this is a good match.  The family has an engagement lunch at the Van Rijhn’s; but then Forte is taken ill.  Yes, it’s TV Show Cancer and so, even though he looks perfectly healthy, he will be dead by the end of the episode.  He’s taken upstairs to rest.

Ms. Astor has let Bertha know that she has procured a box at the Music Hall for Bertha.  Bertha says she will have to check with her husband first.  George points out that Bertha will be a founder of The Met and that puts her in a better position than with just the box.

Larry tries to convince one of the trustees, that they should recognize the wife as the builder of the bridge.  Larry is shot down. 

Peggy is helping find a way to deal with the school closures.  The leader of the fight says the only way to fight may be to integrate the schools and that also means they would have to hire white teachers.  Peggy’s father points out that the only way white teachers and parents would listen to such an idea is if another white person talked to them.  Peggy is able to get Marion to come speak to an integrated meeting.  One white male teacher tells the group that he would be willing to work at the school, that he could get other teachers, and students as well.  The problem is, all of these people are Irish and if you know about how Irish immigrates were seen as back then…let’s just say this is not exactly the win that they needed.  They’re white, but not the right white. 

And they are turning George into more of a Robber Barron than I thought.  George has agreed to many of the terms of the Union, except only some people get a raise for six months.  His hope is that, in the end, the Workers Union will split apart.  Specifically, he set it up so that Protestant Faith workers, who would be a good portion of the workers, will turn against the Immigrants, Catholics, and Jews.  Boy is this episode a social lesson. 

The Day of:

At a meeting, Ms. Astor tells everyone that Bertha will be taking a box at the Music Hall.  Bertha turns her down.  This, of course, embarrasses Ms. Astor and, yeah, this won’t be good.

The other business men are angry at Gorge and say he’s on his own.

Ada is told that her husband is about to die.  Agnes and Forte make peace.  Agnes sends for Oscar, but no one can find him. 

The reason no one can find Oscar is because he had a chance encounter with George.  Long story short, Oscar tells George the company he invested in (another railroad company) and Gorge tells him that company doesn’t exist.  Turns out Miss Beaton doesn’t either.  She’s fleeced Oscar.  I wondered if this is where the story was going but…I don’t know, the way they introduced Beaton into the story made it seem like people actually knew her family; not just what Beaton had told them.

That night:

At a private reception, Bertha sees Ms. Astor with the Duke and realizes that she’s stolen him away from Bertha.

Larry, at the same party, is able to tell people about how a woman built the bridge.  But since it’s at a private party, everyone will ignore it and she will be forgotten.

 Forte dies overnight.  Dashell, who stayed at the house, leaves for the day.  After he leaves, Larry sees Marion and she tells him what happened.  They go for a walk.

Oscar comes to the house and admits to Agnes that he’s been swindled.  It’s almost all of their money.  Why do I have a feeling the family will be "saved" because Forte had money and no one knew about it?

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Gates to Heck Chapter Three

Teru woke up on his couch with a headache and dry mouth, which would have been normal enough if it weren't for the fact that someone had removed his jacket. It was folded neatly on the coffee table next to his makeup kit. Then the hushed conversation coming from the genkan finally made it past that funny ringing in his ears.

He squinted against the too-bright overhead lights and barely made out Shigeo and Reigen. Teru relaxed the yellow power that had started to build between his hands. Shigeo hadn't noticed the change in his aura. He was reaching out a hand to steady Reigen, saying something about "-the wall above the bookshelf."

Reigen was standing with one foot in the genkan and the other in the air as he tugged off a shoe. He turned around to look into the living room and would have fallen over if Shigeo hadn't steadied him. Teru shut his eyes again.

"Psycho Union… Espers…" read Reigen. Teru could hear them approaching the bookshelf. "I'm sensing a theme."

"You're right, Reigen-shishou. I didn't even notice. Maybe he's renaming the Awakening Lab." The frown was audible in Shigeo's voice. "Oh, and I accused him of-"

"I don't think so," Reigen interrupted. "They're not exactly Extermination Club material."

Teru tried to even out his breathing so it wouldn't catch when Reigen snapped his fingers and said, "Is he still doing that Kaijin thing?"

"You mean when you sent me out to patrol the city at night in tights?"

"Don't put it like that."

"I don't think so," Shigeo said slowly. "He said nothing ever happens in this city."

"Was that before or after we dismantled a psychic terrorist organization?" asked Reigen.

"Before," said Shigeo, "but… they're… dismantled now. Right, Shishou?"

"Which means the ones that didn't get arrested are probably getting bored instead. Or angry."

Shigeo sighed. "Oh, Teruki," he said, and of course, that made Teru's breath catch.

Teru opened his eyes. Reigen and Shigeo had definitely heard him. He wouldn't have been surprised if the old lady from next door had heard him.

"Hanazawa-kun, how are you feeling?" asked Shigeo, and Teru already missed the sound of his first name in that voice. At least he could blame his blush on the fever.

"Fine," he said, sitting up. "I'm sorry."

Now he could see Shigeo's frown. "What for?"

Teru hadn't intended to laugh at Shigeo. He definitely hadn't intended to laugh so hard he passed out again, but the question had caught him off guard. For one thing, it seemed like he hadn't shaken his old urabanchou status after all.

For another, he hadn't exactly formed that gang.

Three months into his middle school career, Teru had finally hit back with his powers instead of his fists and broken Edano's nose.

Edano had threatened to turn him into the principal unless Teru agreed to go on-call for any fight more serious than rock-paper-scissors. Teru doubted the impending parent-teacher conference would have a good outcome if only half of the parties were present, so he became the shadow leader of Black Vinegar Middle School. By the time Edano's nose had healed, being an urabanchou had gone to Teru's head. At least Teru could win those fights.

By then he was winning most of his fights against Claw too. He'd always been stronger than them in terms of psychic powers, but it helped that he was no longer young enough to get two black eyes from one punch.

Teru just shrugged. "What's Reigen-san doing here?"

"Mob'll have to start heading home for dinner soon," said Reigen, before Shigeo could answer. "Unless you want Outoto-kun to make that headache of yours worse."

Teru tried to glare, but his squint probably ruined the effect.

"That doesn't-"

"You have a concussion, right?" Reigen interrupted. "You're not supposed to be alone in case you slip into a coma and die."

Shigeo looked alarmed, but Teru just glared harder. "I all know about concussion checks. I can do them myself."

"You-" Whatever carefully-controlled thing Reigen was doing with his face slipped out of place, and for a moment he looked genuinely confused. "How?"

"Balance test, cognitive function, visual tracking," Teru ticked them off his fingers. "I know what I'm doing."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is." Reigen's voice was faint.

"Please listen to Shishou, Hanazawa-kun," said Shigeo. "He thinks you should go to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Teru had been starting to list back against the pillows, but at that word, he jackknifed into a sitting position. "I don't need to go to a hospital!"

Hospital trips meant phone calls to his emergency contacts, which meant phone calls to the Seasoning City Child Guidance Center when his emergency contacts didn't pick up. He'd made that mistake once before and learned most of his acting skills the hard way putting out the resulting dumpster fire.

"Seriously, kiddo," said Reigen. "You don't look so hot. I think it would be a good idea if you got checked out by someone with an actual medical degree. The cab's waiting outside, so why don't we just-"

Teru didn't mean to teleport.

One second he was on his couch, and the next he'd been dunked ass-first in a rice paddy somewhere significantly more rural than Seasoning City. Without his shoes or coat.

He felt his fever go up a couple more degrees.

[no-naem]

Like another anonymous person I also have ideas about kayano all the time and there was a scenario that came to mind, if Koro-sensei had not saved on one of the two occasions he died, Aguri would have given something for Akari to return to. past? and how would it be? When would you return?

I think depending on when Akari dies would affect her decision on which point of the past she'd return to.

If Akari died during her rampage battle against Korosensei, she'd want to return to weeks before Aguri dies so she can save her. Akari would have to give up all the time she spent with E-Class but with her current mindset, I think she wouldn't care. But since her mind is clearer without the tentacles, she'll start to doubt her decision and maybe even regret it a little bit when she realizes how much she cares about the class...and misses them. Was it worth it to try and save her sister? Yes! But it wasn't without sacrifice. Months of buildling relationships with her classmates and teachers instantly gone. They don't know her anymore. She could try to befriend them again but would she need to go back to 3-E if she does end up saving Aguri? There's no need to, right? And who knows if Akari will actually succeed to save her sister? She know what to do this time so all will end well...right? (Spoiler alert: yes because I love happy endings.)

(Also, if Akari can talk to Aguri before she returns to the past, I think Aguri would try to calm her down and convince her to go back a few days, cancel her assassination, and tell Korosensei the truth so he could tell his story to her. And get the tentacles out of her neck of course.)

If Akari died when she got impaled by 2.0 and couldn't be revived, then she'd know what to do: go back a week or two before the Shield of Earth and Spear of Heaven activates, telling Korosensei about everything that happens and to ask him to escape and hide. ...but I have a feeling it's not going to be that simple. It's possible that if the world's assassination plan doesn't work, they'll still publicly release false information on Korosensei, and then ask Yanagisawa and 2.0 to take Korosensei down which could turn out to be disastrous since there would be no barrier to keep all of their fighting in one place.

I can also imagine a scenario where Akari would go back several months rather than a few weeks. That way, she would have more time to plan and come up with a way to sabotage the government, Yanagisawa, and 2.0's plans before it's too late. But it could cause more problems with her class since if she goes back to Novemeber of last year for example, that would mean her true identity wouldn't be revealed, the class still wouldn't know about Korosensei's identity, and the civil war then class union wouldn't happen yet, so nobody would be decided on saving Korosensei. So, I can see Akari being uncertain about telling the truth to the whole class...not to mention she'd still have her tentacles. Despite the pain and their constant murderous intent nearly overwhelming her, I think her desire to save Korosensei and the class can keep them at bay. She has a stronger will now. And she'll keep her tentacles just in case things go terribly wrong again. Maybe this time, she can do better.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Leor Sapir

Published: Aug 6, 2023

The American Academy of Pediatrics said last week that it will commission a systematic review of the evidence for pediatric sex-trait modification, known euphemistically as “gender-affirming care.” This marks a turning point in the battle over the controversial medical protocol. To those who favor evidence-based rather than eminence-based medicine, it is a step in the right direction.

But it is a small step. Two key questions: Will the systematic review follow a transparent, impartial scientific process? And what should the AAP do in the meantime?

In explaining the decision to commission a systematic review, the AAP’s CEO, Mark Del Monte, said that the academy’s board “has confidence that the existing evidence is such that the current policy is appropriate. At the same time, the board recognized that additional detail would be helpful here.”

If the AAP’s position is that it is “confident” the systematic review will vindicate its position and merely add “additional detail,” that raises suspicions about the honesty and independence of the process and shows the need for strong guardrails against AAP influence over the inquiry.

The AAP is, first and foremost, a trade union. “Professional medical association” is a less apt description than “association of medical professionals.” Teachers unions care about education but give their own and their members’ interests priority over those of students. So too the AAP has strong incentives to defend its own interests and those of member doctors—especially those who have publicly endorsed or facilitated sex-trait modification—even when that is harmful to patients.

The AAP and prominent members have consistently assured policy makers and judges that sex-trait modification is safe and effective and based on strong science. Insurance companies have based their coverage decisions on these claims. Democrats have used them to cast opponents as bigots. The Biden administration regularly cites the AAP in its efforts to guarantee minors unfettered access to hormonal drugs and life-altering surgery. Parents have accepted AAP claims and agreed to allow doctors to disrupt their children’s natural puberty, flood their bodies with synthetic hormones, and amputate their healthy breasts.

Should we therefore expect AAP leadership to be genuinely curious about the findings of a systematic review? Should we trust that the AAP won’t try to influence the outcome by tinkering with the process?

Unlike narrative literature reviews, systematic reviews follow a transparent, reproducible methodology on the same body of research. Anyone who uses the same methodology should arrive at more or less the same result. The existing systematic reviews on the benefits and risks of puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones, conducted by health authorities in three European countries, all found “very low” quality evidence for these interventions.

Given the finding of every existing systematic review to date that the evidence for “gender-affirming care” is exceptionally weak, the AAP should immediately recommend extreme caution in the use of puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and surgeries in treating youth gender dysphoria. This is a no-brainer; health authorities in the U.K., Norway, Sweden, Finland and France have done it. “There is not enough evidence to support the safety, clinical effectiveness and cost effectiveness to make the treatment routinely available at this time,” said the statement from England’s National Health Service.

Systematic reviews can take six to 18 months to complete. Because the AAP apparently recognizes the superiority of systematic reviews, it should defer, while the review process is under way, to the systematic reviews conducted by the U.K. National Institute for Health Care Excellence in 2020 and updated last week. A slew of new systematic reviews touching on a wide range of topics related to pediatric gender medicine is expected to come out in the U.K. well before the AAP systematic review is completed. When they do, the AAP should embrace their findings.

Last August the AAP president said that her organization’s policy was based on “the best science.” But if systematic reviews are the appropriate way to evaluate the evidence, and if every systematic review to date has found that the evidence is exceptionally weak, how can the AAP continue to maintain that its current approach is evidence-based? Mr. Del Monte was evasive on this point. The Europeans, he said, “engaged in their process, we’re engaging in our process.”

In a press release, the AAP has promised a “policy update process” that is “transparent and inclusive.” The AAP “will invite members and other stakeholders to share input.” Will those members include the pediatricians who have demanded that a systematic review be done? Will it include researchers who have found evidence of socially influenced transgender identity? Will “other stakeholders” include “detransitioners,” who were inappropriately prescribed drugs and surgery when they should have received only mental-health support? Will it include parents of children who thought they were transgender and wanted drugs and surgeries, but changed their minds and now feel better?

The organization’s consistent attempts to suppress debate on this sensitive issue, the recent remarks of its chief executive, and its profound conflict of interest as a trade association don’t inspire confidence that it will act scientifically and in the best interests of children and families.

Mr. Del Monte and the AAP can rest assured that the group’s actions will be carefully watched over the months ahead. If the AAP wants to regain the public’s trust, it must allow for a truly transparent and inclusive process, not one that involves only those who agree with its existing position. Above all, the AAP must commit itself to follow the science, wherever it leads.

[ Via: https://archive.today/PQWiO ]

==

Anyone who's been following this topic for any amount of time knows what the outcome of every other review has been, and therefore knows the result we should expect. If it comes out in contradiction to the UK, Finland, Sweden, Norway and other countries, we'll know how ideologically corrupted US institutions like the AAP have become.

[tmvoldemort]

🕯 - @regretismyconstantcompanion

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character. (Still accepting)

@regretismyconstantcompanion

“Eight more minutes.” 

Tom looks up to catch Professor Dumbledore's eyes. Tom’s mind pulled from his thoughts on the test. Albus turned, carrying on his march up and down the deskline. Checking over the shoulders of those taking their N.E.W.T.S.

Here Tom was at a crossroads.

The Right path was to leave here and make a name for himself. Linger a little in London if need be. Learn what he couldn’t at Hogwarts. Perhaps put to the test his skills, hone them. Then off to the wilder world.

The Left hand path seems to inclined Albus. That would likely mean falling in line with his groupies. Fighting off Albus’ attempt to mold him into his own image. Or one that fancy Albus the most. He did that with everyone around him. Tom would be no different. Always jostling for his time and attention.

Tom crushed his quill steam between his fingers.

No, he was no follower. That and he didn’t care to share.

“Professor Dumbledore offered for me to visit Nurmengard castle!” Avery announced to the Slytherin common room.

Tom gritted his molars, “Why?”

Seeing nothing special about Avery. In fact he was midway between passable in grades and magic. However the other thought differently.

Avery jab his thumb into his chest, “Said it would be good for my resume. Since I plan like my family has to join the Ministry.”

Of course Albus was still a teacher to more than just himself. These feelings were getting questionable, dangerous even. 

“Well done.” Tom said,

Watching Albus step up onto the platform leaning his lower back against the desk. Checking his pocket watch. His lips silently counting down.

No.

Deciding there and then Tom couldn’t just be another follower. He never was one.. He would need to make his own name. It would have to be on his own merits. The easy way was through Albus, hardly impressive.

But where did that leave his favorite activity?

“Time!”

Chair legs drag along the stone as bodies get up. Gathering their stuff and queue to hand in their future. Tom lingering back. Putting away his stuff slowly, being the last to hand in.

Already knowing the path he would take. Not yet sure how he would do it.

Albus was dangerous. Attachments were as well. If Tom fancy this union he would have to come in as an equal. 

Tom got up to the front and held out his booklet. 

“Well done.” Albus said,

For the brief moments their fingers touched. Tom’s thumb caressed the other's dry knuckle before releasing his test.

“Professor.” And turned away.

[beardedmrbean]

Wait I thought that First Nations is a proper term we use now to describe Native Americans?

Ugh

Also yeah the learning thing

It’s not like our education system is outdated as hell

Or being run by out of touch politicians

Perhaps you can find the link, but I heard that the public education system was changed in the 90’s for specifically to cater to neurotypical girls

Teachers unions are corrupted up the ass

But as I mentioned before that thanks to DNA ancestry test, we know black Americans of slave descent are 64% Yoruba

Yet despite one of the biggest gaming franchise Assassin’s Creed is based off pseudo surrounding it

And I’m not lying

The British Museum and the Smithsonian used assassin creed games for a Alexander the Great event and to visual the American Revolution in a sector

Imagine telling yourself 20 years ago that games would reach such levels?

Also when was dna ancestry known to the public

But anyways, one thing that perhaps other black Americans can help me with. Is that we when it comes to history, all we know about the old world is that we were enslaved

Keep in mind that I only learn about the Yoruba because of Hollywood fuck up

So imagine how HARD it’s going to explain community…who literary rates ain’t exactly the best

Okay there a saying I heard (paraphrasing) “If they ain’t going to teach you right. You think they’re going to treat you right?!”

Also perhaps in the evening as I notice something with a lot of stuff surrounding government in the 80’s-90’s media

I was trying to say the whole “Why we weren’t taught this in school” started with SJWs millennials in the early 2010’s

I’m just wondering how bad sjws critical thinking skills are when they never connected the dots that people who run the education system have their hands in the military industrial complex as well

Killary anyone?

It works, there's a screenshot floats round from a kids textbook that people try to pass of as HS talking about, well.

Every time it pops up we get dozens of people whining about the US education system until it's pointed out that, one it says "First Nations" which is the official way Canada says it (US is Native American) and two it says Quebec City in the bottom right center.

Outside of official things I don't think it matters which you use provided everyone knows what you're talking about.

Snopes actually covered this one, didn't need to but it was a opportunity to bash Europeans so they took it.

Perhaps you can find the link, but I heard that the public education system was changed in the 90’s for specifically to cater to neurotypical girls

I don't have a link on that one, nothing is turning up either but it is something that I've seen stated, also seen loads of studies showing that single sex classes turn out more capable students. Fairly well established that guys and girls learn differently so that makes sense.

The British Museum and the Smithsonian used assassin creed games for a Alexander the Great event and to visual the American Revolution in a sector. Imagine telling yourself 20 years ago that games would reach such levels?

That's rad, 20 years ago I'd have believed it, 30 jamin on my SNES not so much.

Also when was dna ancestry known to the public

Not sure, let's learn together

"Affordable" is the keyword there, general public wasn't doing them

But anyways, one thing that perhaps other black Americans can help me with. Is that we when it comes to history, all we know about the old world is that we were enslaved Keep in mind that I only learn about the Yoruba because of Hollywood fuck up So imagine how HARD it’s going to explain community…who literary rates ain’t exactly the best

Oakland’s rebellion against phonics set children back; let’s not repeat it

TL:DR; there was a structured phonics based curriculum that was increasing literacy rates rapidly in Oakland schools the teachers well.

Despite the obvious success of that curriculum, Weaver says teachers hated it. “This seems dehumanizing, this is colonizing, this is the man telling us what to do,” Weaver said. “So we fought tooth and nail as a teacher group to throw that out.” They succeeded, and Oakland children paid the price. Reading proficiency in the Oakland Unified School District abruptly decreased from 2014 to 2015, when the curriculum change was introduced. It hasn’t rebounded to pre-2015 levels. The district has a reading proficiency score of just 34%, well below the already stupidly low California state average of 51%.

🎉🎉🎉🎉Score a big win for decolonizing education🎉🎉🎉🎉

Also perhaps in the evening as I notice something with a lot of stuff surrounding government in the 80’s-90’s media I was trying to say the whole “Why we weren’t taught this in school” started with SJWs millennials in the early 2010’s

I said that several time actually, reading a random thing about WWI and came across the Ottoman Empire and couldn't remember learning a damn thing about them, WWI was Germany and Austria Hungary vs everyone else and for some reason this extended into Africa and the middle east but we're not going to worry too much about that.

As gaps go, that one was a doozy, you thought skipping over some random activist that did something that kicked off some movement was bad wait till you hear about the Empire that existed in the middle east, Africa, and Europe that was nearly completely left out of my history lessons.

Leaving Uzbekistan out I get, but not a 700 year old empire that our founding fathers had positive diplomatic relationships with.

Positive part was it gave me a whole bunch of stuff to learn, all on my own, without some bureaucrat deciding what was and wasn't important.

I’m just wondering how bad sjws critical thinking skills are when they never connected the dots that people who run the education system have their hands in the military industrial complex as well. Killary anyone?

Wait till you find out who helped make it so student loans couldn't be discharged through bankruptcy (biden)

The federal department of education was the beginning of the end for the US educational system and federal student loans greased the slide we're riding down.

People get mad when i say they need to be phased out, but honestly it's one of the best ways to make college affordable again imho. Just be bumpy for a decade or so till schools realize they need to stick with classes that will allow people to make a living.

Other option is make schools secure the student loans not the fed, they want their investment back they need to make a good investment.

[ibringyouasong89]

I’m 33 going on 34 in less than a month. I work two part time jobs (because after graduating college with a BA in English Lit, could not get a full time in publishing - or ANY full-time job for that matter with no connections to promote an opportunity based on nepotism) and one of them is in retail...which is a terrible industry that is utterly inhumane that I have worked in for almost 11 years. I currently go to school for my Masters in Education...which I still have doubts about doing, long term wise, because of the state education is in both the state I wish to teach in and also for the country (in case you missed it - America) itself. Being in NYC, there is no shortage of teachers, and I wonder, ever day, how long it’ll take me to get a teaching job for the public schools...because this is, literally, the only state where the union and the pay are worthy for teachers to have and be a part of...everywhere else, including CA and NJ are shit, in terms of pay and union protection and benefits. 

I live with my mother, in my great-grandparent’s house that will turn a century old in two months...I literally live in the house that was built upon the foundation that was “The American Dream” and all I can hear, repeating in my ears, is George’s Carlin’s takeaway line of “You have to be asleep to see it.” I’m in my thirties, where most people I know are either married or getting engaged; pregnant for the first time, the second time, etc...or have a growing kid/children already...and I have no SO, no children, no stable-enough financial situation to have a house of my own someday, or even a car. My parents did not have city-based jobs, which guarantees a union where one can inherit a pension and still maintain benefits upon retirement. My father used his 401K, after getting fired due to the economic downturn post 9/11, to go and obtain a real estate license. Then the housing market bubble burst in 2008 and, well...we weren’t destitute (poverty has definitely taken on a different flavor since the 1930′s for most Americans), but let’s just say my grandparents were helping my mother to pay for most of the bills (including my tuition to keep going to school for all four of my academic years in high school).  I have had depression, on and off, for over 15 years and find it hard to take good care of myself on most days when I’m not feeling either lazy or too despondent to get up out of bed (FYI, I don’t know if it’s clinical or not...). I haven’t been on a vacation since 2014. I had dreams of traveling of the world, ever since I was small enough to understand what wonders existed in the world, and don’t think I’ll ever be able to travel to any of those places until I am, most likely, too old to do so. I don’t have a social life. I don’t really have any friends and can’t afford to go see the ones I barely maintain a connection with from childhood...as I was forced to move away from my hometown when my parents finally divorced after almost 30 years of a toxic relationship that I bore witness to...and I know loneliness is a choice, but so is having self-respect and not allowing yourself to fall into terrible relationships just so you can say you have someone. In all likelihood, I will never get married. I will never have children...and when I think on never having children, part of me realizes that I will grow old and not have anyone to take care of me as most of my family had no children of their own (and got old and died) or have no real relationship with me.  I may wind up a smelly corpse in a rundown apartment at some point or thrown into an abusive nursing home due to the state checking up on me. I also feel, in large part, a great sense of relief...because I will never have to bring into this world a child who will be financially burdened the way I am. I will never have a child who feels like a failure, like they were left behind by the society that promised them they could, and would, succeed...that, for the most part, denies that climate change is real. That if I married a man that was not of my own ethnocultural background, they would be discriminated against and made targets of by law enforcement or of the government. That if I had a daughter, and she traveled to one of the states where abortion is illegal, and was tragically raped and made pregnant, she would have to bear that pregnancy to fruition, despite the trauma and despair. That my son, if he was a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and was lovingly accepted at home, would not find that same reception in the rest of the nation he was born into and would also become a target...Or, if one of my children wished to go to Florida, and wanted to study African American history at their chosen university, they could not do so because of the new law that Ron DeSantis has just written and signed into effect. That there is an international war going on and that if my children were old enough, could be drafted into (and don’t tell me it can’t happen because IT HAS happened before. My father was drafted for ‘Nam. And though he went willingly, he never celebrated the fact that he was a vet...none of my family members that served EVER talked about their service and what they had seen, done, or heard during that time in their lives) and made to fight and kill innocent people for the sake of “democracy” (that is highly corrupt) and, if they made it out alive, would be scorned and forsaken by the very same government that asked them to fight for their nation with pride (ask Jon Stewart about it sometime).  That my children will never become subject to addiction of smart technology, social media, or any of the ways instant gratification and technology has shaped the lives of children that I see today in that they evolve to become computer compliant, but deficient in human social skills (and it started well before Covid, but the quarantine definitely made it worse).  That my children will never become hopelessly engaged with fentanyl or any of the opioids that so many children become hooked on, from young ages (even from the womb!) and wind up either tragically a part of a statistic for death or incarceration. That my children will never be forced into homelessness because of a devastating storm that washed away their homes and their livelihoods. That my would’ve-been-future daughter will never face the choice of having to wait her child dying within her womb and her body turning sceptic because her doctors could not give her an abortion (yes, this really happened in 2023).  That my son, if he wished to transition and become a woman, would not scorned by society, and would not be found wanting of healthcare to care for himself and his changing body.  That my children would not be forced to be placed under labels - no matter how conservative or progressive the ideology may be - that only furthers the lines of discrimination and divide within this country (even if the intention is the exact opposite - see Bill Maher about it sometime).  I will never have children who feel stifled by living with me because they can’t afford to live on their own...or feel that they are forgotten, let down, or left behind by the society that promised them they could succeed (no matter their race or gender).  I will never have children who ponder over the pointlessness of their existence because they can never fully enjoy life the way they were told to do so (and are constantly told to do so by people who don’t realize the limitations they are bound by, especially by a society that is run by the chrono-capitalist society they both revere and hate simultaneously). I am grateful I will never have children (if that is indeed my future) so that they never have to wind up as shooting victims, with pictures on full display on every news media outlet in the country. It’s not just the young...it’s also us adults (Millennials) who are expected to step up and take charge of society when the people who are in charge of it now step down.

[airasilver]

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/04/opinion/harris-win-election-trump.html

It’s Nov. 6, 2024, the morning after Election Day.

To understand Kamala Harris’s narrow victory over Donald Trump, you have to think about Marie Kondo, the Japanese style guru famous for her ruthless minimalism, whose prescription for a cluttered home is to remove any object that doesn’t immediately “spark joy.”

The progressivism that infuses the contemporary Democratic Party can be a cluttered, claustrophobic worldview. In its Trump- and Biden-era form, it doesn’t just include a large array of interest groups, each making their own policy demands. It argues that all of these demands must be accepted and acted on together, that there’s an underlying philosophical or even creedal unity (“in this house, we believe …”), a seamless garment that can’t be divided up. Everything is intersectional, and you can’t just pick and choose: Climate justice is reproductive justice is antiracism; trans rights are women’s rights are Indigenous rights; if you stand with migrants you also have to stand with teachers’ unions and vice versa.

This cluttered sensibility — a variation on what my colleague Ezra Klein once dubbed the “everything bagel” spirit in liberal governance — hasn’t prevented progressivism from becoming the most powerful ideology in American life. Even with the wilder forms of wokeness in partial retreat, progressive ideas still pervade the nation’s cultural institutions to such a degree that you can wander from an Ivy League faculty lounge to a corporate human resources department to a Hollywood gathering to a magazine editorial meeting and feel as though you inhabit a single-party state.

But for Democratic Party leaders, the combination of doctrinal clutter and sweeping cultural power creates political headaches and electoral vulnerabilities. The inflexibility of left-wing ideology means that if you dissent forcefully on its litmus tests, you’ll quickly feel like an outsider if not a heretic, choosing between a difficult life as a moderating influence (ask Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema how that goes) or a lurch into outright opposition. And progressive cultural dominance means that anyone who feels disillusioned with some arm of the American establishment — with the medical system or the modern university, with the F.D.A. or the C.I.A. — can end up feeling alienated from liberalism writ large. This creates a lot of very different kinds of swing constituencies that can be happy to see the left’s power tempered or rebuked.

Since 2015, the remarkable resilience of Donald Trump has depended on making himself an avatar for these varied discontents — a symbol of rebuke and rebellion and a natural leader for a coalition of alienated and disappointed outsiders, plus a few disillusioned insiders as well. When Trump was riding high in the early summer of 2024, his outsider coalition seemed to be adding members at a rapid clip — picking up young men and recent immigrants and Silicon Valley entrepreneurs, none of whom had necessarily embraced a consistent right-wing agenda but all of whom were looking for a countervailing force against Democratic orthodoxy.

On paper Kamala Harris seemed like an unlikely candidate to stanch this bleeding of support. She was a consummate Democratic insider from a superliberal state, perhaps more a machine politician than a progressive true believer but one with a long record of fealty to left-wing groups and causes. She lacked the history of moderation that made Joe Biden a reassuring figure in 2020 and had little experience with the sort of Clintonian triangulation that Biden practiced intermittently at best. In the heat of July it seemed the Democrats desperately needed a capable centrist, not a California liberal, and that turning from Biden to Harris would save them from a rout but still probably lead to a defeat.

But it turned out that there was an alternative to explicit centrism.

Harris did stake out some moderate positions, promising border enforcement and touting her prosecutorial credentials. But mostly she followed a Marie Kondo strategy, applying the life-changing magic of tidying up to the Democratic platform. She didn’t offer a comprehensive moderate agenda or seek out a Sister Souljah confrontation with some left-wing interest group. Instead she offered a form of progressive minimalism, reducing a cluttered agenda to a few popular promises and just leaving everything else out.

Her convention speech was especially Kondo-ist: Short, sparse and nonspecific about virtually everything except restoring Roe v. Wade, protecting middle-class entitlements and keeping Trump out of the Oval Office. The interest groups got oblique gestures, not shout-outs and promises. The ideological buzzwords disappeared. When climate change came up, it was linked vaguely to “clean air” and “clean water” rather than any specific regulatory regime. Gay and transgender rights appeared only as the “freedom to love who you love openly and with pride.” The words “racism” and “affirmative action” made no appearance at all. The everything bagel wasn’t rejected or reseasoned; it just wasn’t on the menu.

To Republicans, this was all incredibly frustrating, as was the minimalist media strategy that accompanied the minimalist agenda. They argued, correctly, that Harris was often just avoiding issues, not offering some clear new policy approach. They complained, accurately, that she was dropping her past positions without any adequate explanation. (Indeed, her minimalism often didn’t even rise to the level of a flip-flop, because there wasn’t any new landing place.)

They also pointed out that her minimalism would have never survived contested Democratic presidential primaries with a gantlet of interest-group demands — that only the last-minute coronation and the urgency and brevity of a general election campaign enabled Harris to sell herself this way. And they noted that all the interest groups would be ready to reassert themselves on Day 1 of a Harris administration, that their ideological demands had been muted but not repudiated, that a vote for her was still a vote to hand them power once again.

If all these points had merit, there was one aspect of the Harris campaign that the complaining conservatives badly misunderstood. They suggested that all the talk of Democratic “joy” was just a psyop, a temporary hype job, a big fake.

But in fact, her minimalism sparked a sincere and unfeigned relief among many Democrats — not just because it gave them a real chance at electoral victory but also because it was genuinely exciting not to feel imprisoned by progressive dogma, to make a temporary escape from shibboleths that never sparked that much real enthusiasm outside the party’s activist-academic core.

When being a Democrat just means being pro-choice and anti-Trump, it’s a lot more relaxing and, yes, joyful than constantly looking over your shoulder to figure out what antiracist rule you need to follow, what radical alternative to the U.S. health care system you’re supposed to champion, what very specific environmental proposal you need to fulsomely embrace. That sense of ideological relaxation is what Harris’s campaign delivered to her party, and many of her supporters really did love her for it.

Meanwhile the challenge that progressive minimalism presented to the Trump Republicans was a substantial one. They had been united and growing as an oppositional force, an alliance of every kind of anti-progressive and anti-Biden impulse, from crunchy to corporate, populist to Reaganite, socially conservative to techno-futurist.

But without the big target of progressivism’s full agenda to organize against, with only a few popular ideas defining Harris’s sprint to the November election, the spotlight fell increasingly not just on Trump’s own sins and limitations but also on his coalition’s internal contradictions.

Suddenly the absence of a coherent conservative policy agenda actually mattered. Suddenly it was a problem that Trump’s path to victory depended on both anti-woke secular voters and pro-life evangelicals, on conservatism-curious minority voters and aggrieved blue-collar white people, on mainstream business elites as well as the likes of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., on traditional movement conservatives and moderates who had no interest in the policies favored by the Heritage Foundation.

If there was a synthesis that would satisfy all these varying constituencies, Trump was not the man to find it. All the way to Election Day, his supporters complained that he was too undisciplined — which is to say, too much himself — to drive a consistent anti-Harris message. But the deeper problem was that his ticket needed an affirmative alternative to defeat her Marie Kondo-fied progressism, and he was far too steeped in personal grievance and reflexive oppositionalism. He needed an obvious foil, a unifying threat to make his fractious anti-progressive alliance into a majority, and her minimalism refused to give him what he needed.

Of course, it was still a close-run thing. The Harris message wasn’t the basis for any kind of great realignment or sweeping new majority, and Harris herself was still the inherently limited politician that she appeared to be as vice president — propped up by the media’s anti-Trump and pro-Democratic tilt, dependent on Trump’s weaknesses to compensate for her own rhetorical deficiencies, white-knuckling it through debates and interviews.

But winning on the most limited agenda and by the narrowest of margins is still winning. The 2024 campaign didn’t permanently bury Trumpism or populism, fix progressivism’s internal problems or claim a mandate for sweeping change of any sort. It merely won the tens of thousands of swing votes required to carry the handful of swing states that decided the election. A minimalist message yielded a minimalist victory — and that was, for Kamala Harris and her supporters, quite enough.

[iwantjobs]

7/22/2024: this position of neck and head stretching seems to solve a lot of my pain problem, but I have to sit against the arm rest that way. I think it will burn the fat along my old person's hump below the neck that makes old people of. It sexes to develop ugly and nasty ugly turtlenneck. Trang's work at 52.24 years old. This position is a position of a female flirting while sitting. I guess as hardcore heterosexual feminist, I refused to flirt with heterosexual men who have gay friends or in a gay jail or sings about rainbow, so now fate is forcing me in this position to stretch out the most painful area of the sides of my neck. I would never sit in this position if a human is around. Too romantic. I wear the mask in that position to guard the bottom of my face to sag for sagging in that area is the end of a human's being youth--elsewhere on the face can sag, but not the sharp line encapsulating the frame of your face. I even wear the mask like this while I sleep for tilting your head side way makes the side of your face sag, too. The yellowness is tumeric powder or curry powder to help fade the dark color of my chips-eating zits as I also apply salt to kill the bacteria to speed up the healing of zitos. Sitting in this position while raising my love handles up burns the fat in dyke waist. I made fun theory of my pain so I can crawl out of my hell by saying perhaps God as Jesus' father had to crippled my body to force me into romantic position as a feminist because I refuse to walk sexy as female calling attention to unwanted males and lesbians unless I am alone with my chosen baby father (which I have zone). However, I made a theory that if I want to have a job lecturing, cussing, cursing, and screaming out pornographic words at people as a female, God as Jesus' father had to crippled me in romantic position or I'll get shot and killed like how they nailed Jesus or kicked Buddha out. I don't know if Muhammed and Maria suffered any injustice or pain coming out as God's representatives. I got crippled and nearly died coming out as the female Buddha at 35 because I refused to flirt with the gays and lesbians. Now I won't flirt with them either because I will never place myself where they are so no need to flirt. Then I took on a job out of being desperate to get health insurance while working part-time at an brainless job after quitting teaching to figure out what's my neck plan be. As it turned out, having gay and lesbian bosses was hardest job I ever taken because they forced me to turn gay and flirt with them and make a baby with one of them or get out. I was about to get out, but immediately I got injured in the back at work while working at the Union Street festival in gay San Francisco as an old worker. Never again for learned my stupid lesson. It was all my stupid decision as a young person then trying to save the world when I didn't have insurance and stable income to do so by returning to school to become a social studies highschool teacher--if only I had a rich husband or from a rich family and have stable savings and heal insurance then saving the world wouldn't be a dangerous job. The world swallowed me and chewed me up for a but and spat me out and I was left crawling with no health insurance, income, and no family or friends around. Oh well, live and learn, Trang. Still waiting for my Palestianian lawsuit.

[27timescinema]

INTERVIEW — SALIMA YENBOU

By Axelle Jean (FR) // Photos © Klaas Mertens (BE)

MEP Salima Yenbou (Renew Europe), strong advocate of the LUX Audience Award, attended the announcement of the five films nominated for the 2024 edition. The 27 Times Cinema ambassadors were able to meet, discuss and question her about the award and her involvement.

You recently had a chance to discover the five films nominated for the LUX Audience Award 2024. How does the selection resonate with you and today's Europe?

On the Adamant, has really caught my attention not only because I am a French citizen but also because it addresses healthcare. After these COVID-19 years, there has been a strong call for healthcare to become a European competence, and it is finally becoming one. Another film that personally resonates with me is The Teachers’ Lounge because teaching is my core profession. The film questions how a highly motivated teacher can cope in a worn down environment. Here, we touch on the crisis in education and explore how to transmit European values while being in a situation of professional discomfort. I also appreciate the approach used in Smoke Sauna Sisterhood. The film portrays women sharing their thoughts in the intimate setting of a sauna. This resonates with me because of my Maghrebian background, where similar conversations happen in hammams. These are places where women can confess, and where speech is liberated. The act of baring the body allows the mind to free itself in turn, even if it is often just a brief interlude, after which each returns to their everyday life. Despite the dark atmosphere, the stories of these women bring light and hope. They are selflessly devoted to helping others, and I greatly admire this form of female solidarity.

It's true that these films explore marginalized communities searching for spaces of empowerment. Did you have a similar impression when you discovered last year's films?

Last year, the focus was also on societal issues but with a spotlight on specific regions, whereas this year, the focus is put on very specific communities. For this new edition, there are again interesting co-productions with countries outside the EU. I know that some members of the European Parliament are against this principle and would prefer only fully European films to be nominated. But I believe that it is also Europe's role to recognize these extra-European collaborations, which both artistic and political values are crucial. Last year, Burning Days highlighted strong political issues when, following its nomination at Cannes, the Turkish government demanded reimbursement from the director. The European Union must support such powerful and engaging films.

You mentioned the idea, perhaps not so far-fetched, of a LUX festival. What form could it take?

That is my dream! We must build an even stronger distribution network to ensure the longevity of these films, and why not expand the selection of nominated films and create a festival held annually in different European cities.

With this year's elections ahead, there may be some delays, but I would ensure that these films reach as many people as possible and that we allocate the financial means to truly promote them.

Currently, there is only the LUX Award, but why not, as in most festivals, present multiple awards? One for a 100% European film, one for a film co-produced with a non-EU state, and perhaps a selection of lighter films to counterbalance the often depressing and discouraging image of cinema perceived by many. We are on an upward trajectory with this LUX Award project, so it's time to broaden its horizons.

You make a distinction between cultural diplomacy, between states, and cultural relations, among peoples. How does an initiative like the LUX Award enrich these two dimensions?

In terms of cultural diplomacy, the award compels us to work on European reciprocity because it allows films from certain countries to exist in others. When we accept to screen highly political films or films with strong messages produced by other countries, we engage in an essential exchange dynamic for interstate understanding. However, we must keep in mind that while films can be a source of dialogue, they can also be a source of political manipulation. For example, in China with the film Mulan [which was shot in a region where Uighurs are detained]. Each film carries a message, and we do not know how these messages will affect children's and adults’ minds. That's why we need to organize debates around the films.

In terms of cultural relations, the award allows films to become subjects of discussion, stimulate debates, and confront citizens on certain societal issues. I have realized that citizens are seeking this. They don't just want to consume films for the sake of consumption. Engaging in discussions can also alleviate anxieties, making people realize they are not alone and channel their concerns. It definitely helps us find pathways for collective growth.

The number of MEPs genuinely involved in the LUX Audience Award is not as high as we could imagine. How do you, on an individual scale, work to promote the initiative among your colleagues?

It is true that it's usually the same MEPs who show interest in the LUX Award, and we have to work hard to get our colleagues to vote for the films. In the wake of COVID-19, saying that we missed out on culture but showing little interest in cinema when such initiatives are proposed is regrettable.

I have taken part in debates and presented the LUX Award to young audiences. Within the European Parliament, I am advocating for culture to become a shared competence and for the responsibilities of each elected representative to expand on this issue. For example, beyond cinema, I work on issues related to the restitution of artworks. I spent a significant part of my term advocating for a joint committee on foreign affairs and culture and revising our definitions on the subject. I also have a colleague who worked on a pilot project to train European diplomats on cultural issues.

I must admit that these actions are often championed by the French, which makes me very proud. We are a country particularly sensitive to these issues. For example, whereas the European Union has stated that films cannot be on online platforms before a six-month delay, in France we have extended it to eighteen months. In the future, this may encourage other countries to follow suit and provide even more protection for European films.