#grovelling to trump

[tomorrowusa]

Every time we're on the verge of immigration reform, Republicans do something to sabotage it. This year is no different.

Sabotaging bipartisan immigration deal for 2024 campaign politicking is peak MAGA nihilism If this opportunity is missed, the obstructionists own the problems at the border

We need to ask Republicans: If there is really a "crisis" at the border then why are you taking attempts at reform off the table for the rest of 2024? Republicans seem more interested in fighting eternal culture wars than in finding actual solutions to problems. They just don't do governance any more. They spend more time making up conspiracy theories about Taylor Swift than doing their jobs.

House Republicans in particular are preternaturally grovelling to Donald Trump who relays his commands to the GOP caucus through "MAGA Mike" Johnson – the Speaker who thinks that Earth is just over 6,000 years old.

Odd as it sounds, Democrats can now blame the "border crisis" on Republicans.

[korkietism]

I’ve seen a couple Twitter posts regarding recent politics and I just want to say that hurtful conservative rhetoric leads to situations like the death of Nex Benedict and the harmful fates of many other queer people. You say violence has no room in politics yet your words have led to countless attacks on our communities.

Conservative ideals are harmful. Our communities have been experiencing violence for decades yet you yell violence when your star of being an ass is shot in the ear.

I despise politics for many reasons yet they are the direct cause of far too many injustices. Violence is only wrong to them if it’s experienced by them. Not two spirit 16 year olds- not indigenous communities- not queer people. Only if it’s them.

I cannot express my disgust at how hypocritical these people are. You are harming our communities. Don’t even get me started on Canadian politics. Queer people exist, we will always exist. Indigiqueer people exist. WE WILL ALWAYS EXIST.

Trans people deserve to live and deserve rights. Queer people deserve to live and deserve rights. Conservatives with anti-queer ideologies are causing mass harm.

[snowangeled]

every time i see one of you fuckers post "well you should still vote for biden!" i lose years off of my life

[eliamartel]

I hate how hotd never allowed Alicent to feel hate or resentment for Rhaenyra and viserys

Rhaenyra was allowed to resent and ignore Alicent for marrying her father, Rhaenyra was allowed to hate on toddler Aegon. Rhaenyra was allowed to hate on the fact that she has to marry in the future

Hotd never allowed Alicent to resent Rhaenyra even after the Driftmark incident

Hotd never allowed Alicent to resent Viserys for raping her, for neglecting her & her children, for not supporting Amond. They infact had her mourn for him and steal the throne over a misunderstanding.

Hotd never explored what Alicent wanted in a marriage, hotd never explicitly acknowledged all the abuse she suffered from Viserys.

IT'S SO TRANSPARENT HOW THEY NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED VISERYS' ABUSE OF ALICENT. HIS ABUSIVE & DISMISSIVE BEHAVIOUR WAS NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED BY ANY CHARACTER NOT EVEN BY ALICENT HERSELF

[norrizzandpia]

you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3

THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️

You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?

Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts

Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED!

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.

Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”

He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”

“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.

She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”

Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”

“I was standing up for myself!”

“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”

“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”

“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”

“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.

“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.

Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.

Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”

Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”

Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”

The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.

“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.

Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”

Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.

Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”

She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”

—

“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”

“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.

Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”

Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”

Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.

Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”

The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”

Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.

There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.

Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.

It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.

He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.

“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.

She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.

“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.

He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.

Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”

His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.

Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.

“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”

Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?

Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”

He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.

He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.

These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.

Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.

She can’t get feelings.

She won’t get feelings.

And that was that, she decided.

“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”

She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.

Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”

She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”

As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.

“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.

She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.

He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”

He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.

For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.

What a dangerous game.

—

Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.

She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.

He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.

He’s worried about her.

A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.

The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.

Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.

That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.

The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.

He wouldn’t risk that now.

Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.

“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.

He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.

Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.

“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.

“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.

“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.

She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.

Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.

“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.

“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.

Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.

Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”

Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.

“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.

She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”

Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.

“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.

If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.

Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.

Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.

When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”

“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.

He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.

Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.

It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.

His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.

“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.

She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.

Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.

Lando’s drink that’s completely full.

🏎️

Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.

His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.

All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.

The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.

His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.

No cameras, no fans, no press.

Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.

All I need is your love tonight.

—

“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.

Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”

He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”

He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”

She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”

She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”

He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.

A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”

Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.

“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.

His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.

He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.

“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.

The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.

He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.

After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.

He loves this. He loves he-

“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.

He can’t be feeling that way.

He isn’t.

Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”

The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”

Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.

He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”

You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.

The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.

She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.

She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.

By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”

He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”

He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.

Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.

Had he always meant everything?

—

Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”

There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.

Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.

Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”

Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”

Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”

Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.

Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.

“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.

Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.

Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”

He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”

His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.

“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.

Y/n’s car.

Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”

Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”

Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.

Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.

“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.

He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”

The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”

“How much help?”

Silence.

Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”

“She’s not moving.”

Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.

Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”

Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”

Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”

Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.

When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.

He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.

There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.

There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.

When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”

She nods, “Will be.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.

They really were selling this.

Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”

He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”

Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The truth hangs in the air painfully.

They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.

All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.

Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.

And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.

—

“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.

He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.

“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.

Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.

With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.

The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.

With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.

Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”

She nods, “Always.”

A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.

In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.

At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.

Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.

How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.

🏎️

Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.

He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.

They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.

“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.

Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”

Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”

He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”

She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”

Of fucking course, he thinks.

“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.

Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.

“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.

“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.

Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”

Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.

They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”

Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.

“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”

His response, easy and light, crushes her.

Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”

Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.

He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”

Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”

Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”

He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.

Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”

Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.

A look of intense love.

She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”

He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.

🏎️

Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.

She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”

As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.

Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”

He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”

“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.

Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”

Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”

Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”

Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”

Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”

His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.

Those things go unsaid.

Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”

She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”

“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.

The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?

Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”

She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.

“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.

He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.

She isn’t. How could he say that?

How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?

How could he let her get away?

UPDATE: i posted part 2! Find it here.

A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE

[zvaigzdelasas]

And their private deliberations suggested that they were still grappling with how the White House should approach the strike. Biden’s team has privately weighed whether to dispatch a top lieutenant to the picket line to stand alongside the UAW workers, according to two people familiar with those discussions. The exact details of who might go or where they could travel are unclear. Yet even as they considered sending a public-facing official to the site of the strike, the White House was pulling back on some behind-the-scenes engagement. On Tuesday, the administration scrapped its plan to have two Biden aides head to Detroit this week to help both sides after union officials complained about it.[...]

There are many unknowns about Trump’s visit to Michigan, including where he will speak and whether he will show up to the picket line as well. But his decision to go in the first place startled some Democrats. “Trump scooped us. Now if we announce we’re going, it looks like we’re just going because of Trump,” said a national Democratic strategist. “We waited too long. That’s the challenge.”

19 Sep 23

The UAW endorsed Biden's 2020 bid for the White House but has not yet backed his reelection campaign.

22 Sep 23

I'm just happy they're both grovelling at the feet of labor 🥰 now remind me again why we need either of them

[bright-side20]

I’m being so fr when I say that all I had to read was Elain wanting a love that was able to trump a mating bond to know where the trajectory of her story was going. How did people not pick up on that.

Right! It's a very obvious foreshadowing.

"She said that because she still hasn't accepted that she was turned into a Fae."

Nope, it has nothing to do with that, it has to do with what Elain believes in. She believes in the power of love and thinks that it can surpass a mate bond. She believes in the right to have her own agency over choosing to whom she wants to give her heart, and her beliefs won't change after she adapts to her new Fae life. She will never agree to give a chance to a stranger because of a bond that was imposed on her.

I think the main issue is that they are mainly Lucien's fans not Elain's . They think he's the perfect, hot male who went through a lot , and they just can't accept that Elain doesn't want him. In their eyes, he's irresistible. They think that since they would grovel for him, Elain has to do it too. That's why they keep finding arguments like she still wants to be human, she should give him a chance, she's stubborn, she wants to be with Azriel because the bond with Lucien made her horny lol.

Rather than just accepting that she simply isn't interested or attracted to him, and that it's her right, she doesn't owe him anything .

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

New Rule: Bring Back Trad Dads | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule: this Father's Day, if you really want to give your father something he'll treasure forever, give him permission to be a dad like dads used to be.

And before you start in with, "But Bill, what do you know about it? You're not a parent." Yeah, I don't give blowjobs either, but I can tell when someone is doing it wrong. How about that? So, no, I don't have kids, but I sit next to yours at restaurants.

I see parents in stores kowtowing to brats like they're congressmen groveling before Trump. I've seen a seven-year-old ram a shopping cart into someone's coccyx and the parent just shrugs and gives a look like, kids… what are you gonna do? Raise them right. That's what you can do.

For as long as I've had a television show, the issue of parents overindulging their children has been a topic of discussion. So, it's not like it's new, but it hasn't gotten better either. We were talking about trophy syndrome in 1993, and then it was helicopter parenting, and then bulldozer parenting. And now we have gentle parenting, or as it used to be known, negotiating with terrorists.

British author Sarah Ockwell Smith, who coined the term, said, "The key here really is thinking, 'Would I like it if someone did this to me?' If the answer is 'no,' then why would you do it to your child?" Because they're a child? Would I like it if someone stripped me naked and plopped me down in a tub of water? No, but with a kid, that's just bath time.

I keep hearing how parenting is so hard these days. Yeah, because you're making it hard. Gentle parenting. It's like a Taco Bell breakfast. The reason it feels wrong is because it is. And it's ruining lives on both sides of the equation. Parents, it's ruining your lives because you've made yourselves a butler to a five-year-old.

And the kids, because the results are in. And all this letting the kids run the show, path of least resistance, child rearing, is harming them. The average high school kid today has the same level of anxiety as the average psychiatric patient in the early 1950s. A recent survey of employers found that about one in five recent college graduates brought their parents with them to a job interview. Our kids are crippled with anxiety because they haven't been properly prepared for a world that doesn't revolve around them.

Almost ten percent of college students claim to have PTSD. From college? The cradle of safetyism? The home of safe spaces and trigger warnings and policing offensive words? You're not supposed to get PTSD in college. You're supposed to get an STD.

The National Institutes of Health says that roughly half of teenagers now have a mental health disorder at some point in their lives. Which tells me one thing, the National Institutes of Health is also part of the problem.

The mental health disorder is on the part of the adults, not the children, the adults, who forgot that to a child, discipline is love, and that kids need structure and authority. Of course, they think they have traumatic stress disorder when they get to college, if before they left the house, they never heard the word "No." Never heard, "You're wrong." Never heard, "Wait, wait."

A lot of life is waiting, yeah. Waiting for your boss to recognize your worth. Waiting for love to bloom. Waiting for your career to take off. Waiting for your partner to be finished in the bathroom. Waiting for your porn to download, for your vape to charge. For the drugs to kick in. For your eyebrows to grow back after you do something stupid on drugs. It's vital you learn as a kid how much of life is going to be waiting.

And boundaries. Jesus, yes, boundaries. Sex dolls set more boundaries than today's parents. This is why the traditional dad, the trad dad, needs to make a comeback. Not all the way back to the 1950s psychopath who never said he loved you and hit you with a belt, no. But just back to the dad who believes that "Because I said so" is a perfectly legitimate answer to any question a child may have. Just back to the dad who would never say anything as stupid as, "My kid is my hero." Or, "Where do you want to eat dinner?" Or, "One more story and then we really have to start thinking about going to bed, okay?"

Trad dads don't negotiate. They say, "You will apologize to your mother, don't make me turn this car around, some things just happen because life is unfair, clean your room, be quiet, the adults are talking, and it's not all about you." Mostly, a trad dad knows he's your parent, not your friend. "Hey, buddy" isn't in his vocabulary. He isn't your emotional support animal. He's simply a guy who understands the job to raise an adult who can survive in the wild.

There's a long-running TV show in Japan called Old Enough, where parents send children as young as two on errands by themselves. Sometimes the kids cry, and sometimes they come home with the wrong stuff, but that's okay. That's how you learn. Meanwhile, in this country, parents strap leashes to their kids like they're escorting a serial killer on Con Air. And children are constantly tracked like they're the last surviving albino tiger instead of just another white kid named Liam.

But what happens, what always happens when uber-liberal bullshit goes too far, is it produces a far more damaging counter-reaction. In the absence of traditional fathers, teenage boys these days are turning to meathead misogynist influencers like Andrew Tate. Ever heard of him? Well, your kid has. He's popular with teenage boys because when we don't give them a masculine male role model they look up to, they go out and find one. And being teenage boys, of course, it's going to be the worst possible one.

Andrew Tate is a man who answers the question, "What if Axe Body Spray could talk?" He's so anti-woman, I don't think he even has a mother. I think he was born when lightning struck a jug of protein powder. And now he's your teenage son's favorite thinker. Did I mention he's a big Trump fan?

So, this Father's Day, let's give dear old dad the gift of being dear old dad. And also, shut up. He's trying to watch the game.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

They want the Diana-level fallout: headlines for days, A-List celebrities releasing statements supporting them and condemning the paparazzi, the global public condemning the BRF, a worldwide reckoning of tabloid media, a heartfelt public address by the monarch to the world apologizing for how they've been treated, a public groveling by their enemy, and enough global public outrage that Charles (and William) has no choice but to give the Sussexes 24/7 security, a royal residence, public duties, and military honors that they've been demanding for the last 4 years.

I wish them luck with that! Whatever you think about Trump, he is significantly more relevant than the Sussexes and no one was talking about the fact that he was SHOT AT a week after the fact. If there’s any kind of “incident”, they will get maybe a day’s worth of press then everyone will move on. And I think I’m being generous…they’ve cried wolf before and squandered almost all of the general public’s goodwill at this point

I agree...a day is very generous.

But Sundays are typically slow news days for us so I think that's why they chose Sunday for this - so they can have not just Sunday's media coverage but Monday's coverage as well (as Monday coverage tends to recap Sunday's coverage).

But as with all things Sussex, something will come up that blows them out of the headlines. It'll be interesting to see what it is. Personally, I'd love a breaking news story to interrupt their interview, since it sounds like it's prerecorded/live-to-tape.

(On that last note, Meghan must be singlehandedly keeping the crockery in stock at her local Target, with how often her plans have been foiled.)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Vote Blue

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 25, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 26, 2024

The Democratic National Convention buoyed the Democrats. Thirty-four million dollars worth of donations came into ActBlue on the night of Vice President Kamala Harris’s acceptance speech. That money added to the other donations pouring in to make a record-breaking total of $540 million since July 22, when Harris’s campaign launched. 

Analyzing voter registrations in Michigan, pollster Tom Bonier found an immediate increase in young women registering to vote in the week of July 21, and his models suggest a 20-point Democratic advantage among those new registrants. FiveThirtyEight shows Harris up 2.7 points over Trump in the national polling average, a six-point improvement from Biden’s last day as a candidate. Across the country, the campaign has 400,000 volunteers.

Harris and Minnesota governor Tim Walz will cross southern Georgia by bus next week to build on the momentum of the convention, working with the 35,000 volunteers, 174 staffers, and 24 campaign offices across the state. 

Trump and the MAGA Republicans have not taken the Democrats’ momentum quietly. Trump has been frantically posting. 

On Thursday morning he assured readers on his social media channel that “My Administration will be great for women and their reproductive rights,” although he has boasted about ending the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision that protected women’s access to abortion and suggested that women who obtain abortions should be punished. Maureen Dowd of the New York Times wrote that his posts “were too ridiculous even for Trump,” and she wondered if his account had been hacked by Iranians. 

Then Trump went to Montezuma Pass, Arizona, to praise a section of border wall constructed there. A Border Patrol union leader called it the “Trump Wall,” and Isaac Arnsdorf, Marianne LeVine and Erin Patrick O'Connor of the Washington Post wrote that Trump’s visit was designed to recapture the storyline of this presidential race from Harris. But it turned out that the section he visited was actually built under President Barack Obama. The nearby Trump portion was unfinished and cost at least $35 million per mile. As president, the reporters note, “Trump spent more than $11 billion to finish more than 450 miles of wall along the almost 2,000-mile southern border, one of the most expensive federal infrastructure projects in history.” 

Harris’s acceptance speech had Trump apparently beside himself. During her 38-minute speech he posted 59 times on his social media platform, saying, among other things, “WHERE’S HUNTER?”  referring to President Joe Biden’s son. After the speech ended, he called in to the Fox News Channel to rant, in what Dowd called a “scream-of-consciousness,” in which he insisted he is “doing very well in the polls,” until host Bret Baier cut him off. So he turned to right-wing media outlet Newsmax, where he continued his diatribe.  

That night, apparently increasingly concerned about his chances of election, Trump—or his team, because it didn’t really sound like him—reached out on social media to Georgia governor Brian Kemp, whom he has lambasted since 2021 for refusing to help him steal the 2020 election. As recently as August 3, Trump went after Kemp, but on Thursday he thanked the governor “for all of your help and support in Georgia, where a win is so important to the success of our Party and, most importantly, our Country. I look forward to working with you, your team, and all of my friends in Georgia to help MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!”

Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo commented: “Nothing tells you Trump is in full panic more than seeing him crawl back to nemesis Brian Kemp begging for help in Georgia.” “Kemp wanted a public groveling,” Ron Filipkowski wrote, “and that’s what Trump did tonight.” 

It wasn’t just Trump who was concerned about the Democratic National Convention. A number of prominent Republicans who will be voting for Harris spoke there, providing a permission structure for other Republicans to shift their support to Harris and Walz. But that message did not make it through to viewers of the Fox News Channel. Media Matters, which monitors right-wing media, reported that the Fox News Channel did not air any of the Republicans’ DNC speeches. 

In the Wall Street Journal, Peggy Noonan complained that Democrats “stole traditional Republican themes (faith, patriotism) and claimed them as their own”—as if somehow Democrats shouldn’t be able to claim either faith or patriotism—and worried that Trump “is famously off his game.” His “old insult shtick isn’t working,” and when he tries to read from a teleprompter, “he talks like a tranquilized robot.” Because he has insulted everything, when he now disparages something, she wrote, “it seems part of his act.”  

Recognizing the momentum of the Harris-Walz campaign, the Trump-Vance campaign on Saturday sent out a memo predicting a post-convention bump for Harris-Walz but promising the bump would be temporary. It also did not mention that Trump and Vance did not get the normal post-convention bounce after their 2024 convention in July. 

Friday brought more bad news for the Trump campaign when twelve Republican lawyers who served in the administrations of presidents Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and George W. Bush wrote an open letter endorsing Harris because they believe Trump is a threat to American democracy and the rule of law. They continued: "[W]e urge all patriotic Republicans, former Republicans, conservative and center-right citizens, and independent voters to place love of country above party and ideology and join us in supporting Kamala Harris."  

They join conservative jurist J. Michael Luttig, who endorsed Harris on Wednesday and wrote: “In voting for Vice President Harris, I assume that her public policy views are vastly different from my own, but I am indifferent in this election on any issues other than America’s Democracy, the Constitution, and the Rule of Law, as I believe all Americans should be.”

Also on Friday, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who was running for president as an Independent, suspended his campaign and endorsed Trump. He joined Trump onstage in Glendale, Arizona, to the music of the Foo Fighters, who made it clear the campaign did not ask permission to use the song, they would not have allowed it, and that they will donate all royalties from its use by Trump’s campaign to the Harris-Walz campaign.

It is not clear that Kennedy’s endorsement will help Trump much. He was polling at under 5%, and his numbers were dropping. Kennedy also is a poor candidate to help Trump combat the “weird” label the Democrats have attached to his campaign. His odd past includes recent stories that he claimed in court to suffer from a worm in his brain and that he dumped a dead bear cub in New York’s Central Park and tried to make it look as if a bike had hit it. Josh Marshall added that the endorsement also “puts a spotlight on the fact that [Trump’s] desperate and trying basically anything now to shake up the race.”

Five of Kennedy’s siblings called the endorsement “a betrayal of the values that our father and our family hold most dear. It is a sad ending to a sad story.” Quoting President John F. Kennedy, his grandson Jack Schlossberg endorsed Harris on stage at the DNC. 

Trump seemed thrilled with the endorsement, though. On Saturday he shared a post calling himself and Kennedy “the Strongest anti-establishment ticket in American History.” But, of course, Kennedy is not on the ticket. J.D. Vance is. 

Vance’s dismal rollout has not gotten better. He appears to have taken on the task of actually campaigning for the ticket, but he is enormously inexperienced, and it’s not going terribly well. An awkward visit to a donut shop in Georgia where Vance ordered “whatever makes sense” has become a viral TikTok meme. An AP_NORC poll has Vance at –17 (27% favorable versus 44% unfavorable); Walz is +11 (36 to 25). 

Finally, in a post on his social media site tonight, Trump appears to be hinting that he will pull out of the planned debate between him and Vice President Harris scheduled for September 10. “I watched ABC FAKE NEWS this morning,” he wrote, “and I ask, why would I do the Debate against Kamala Harris on that network?... Stay tuned!!!” 

One other item came from Trump this week, but it got little oxygen with everything else that was going on. Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump have been teasing a “big announcement” this month related to cryptocurrency and decentralized finance, or DeFi. On Thursday, Trump announced a new cryptocurrency project called “The DeFiant Ones” and linked to a Telegram channel set up on August 6, the same day Eric posted that such a project was in the works. 

Telegram is a social media app launched by Russian-born billionaire Pavel Durov, and it is the main communications tool in Russia. Durov was arrested today in France on charges that Telegram has been used for money laundering and other crimes. 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[tomorrowusa]

^^^ How to spot a MAGA groveler. Such folks tend to conspicuously flock together at Trump trials.

That might come in handy if you're desperate for Halloween ideas.

Because the bulk of such bros tend to be MAGA-friendly, this cartoon is somewhat related.

^^^ Another Halloween idea. Though you'd probably have to be a white male between 25 and 45 (preferably closer to 45) to be credible.

[maretriarch]

neighbors whos curb i walk on omw to work are slowly but surely moving their trump road sign a few inches every day to the left to block my path which is mentally annoying but i like the idea of them groveling and having to dig in the dirt to move their stupid 20 cent sign to try and block my powerful stride to literally no avail. i just get stronger. im going to be an olympic hurdler this time next fall

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mark Sumner at Daily Kos:

Republicans have wasted so much: It’s not just the carloads of “Let’s Go Brandon!” merch now on its way to landfills, it’s a huge amount of time and money that is owed directly to Americans. As soon as they gained a small majority—and once they were past the first round of follies in naming a speaker—Republicans got right on their No. 1 priority.

That priority wasn’t passing legislation to help people. They've been one of the least effective Congress in history. Instead, they jumped right into the most important task of all modern Republicans: Showing their loyalty to Donald Trump by launching unfounded attacks on his opponents.  In the House, that meant not one, not two, but three simultaneous investigations into everything Biden. A car loan, his son's private parts, anything was fodder for a mill meant to crank out a never-ending stream of Biden "scandal." All of this is completely worthless to the country. Now it’s not even useful to Trump.

The Republican grovel fest, headed up by Reps. James Comer and Jim Jordan, was ridiculous from the outset.  There was the fake FBI document produced by a Russian mole whose repeated claims were originally pushed in 2019 by Rudy Giuliani and were debunked almost as soon as they appeared. That hasn’t stopped Jordan from repeating these easily disproved lies and pretending to seriously investigate Biden’s actions in helping to get rid of a corrupt official.  Meanwhile, Comer was busy trying to prove that Biden was the recipient of money from China, talking up a witness who could prove everything if Republicans could find him. Comer went after Hunter Biden for paying back a small loan when Biden wasn’t even in office. Then there was a small personal loan to his brother, also while Biden wasn’t in office. In the end, they turned on Attorney General Merrick Garland when they could find no reason to impeach Biden.  That was the biggest problem for these Republicans: Biden hadn't done anything wrong. But that didn't stop them from crowing over every false claim as if it were proof that Biden was the godfather of the "Biden crime family." A crime family that is somehow so huge and corrupt and has netted Biden a beach home that isn’t even on the beach rather than towers full of golden targets. 

The House Republicans wasted a bunch of money and time on conducting bogus partisan witch hunts against President Joe Biden to try to find something on him. They came up with bupkis.

[darkmaga-retard]

For nearly a decade, the left has described Donald Trump and his populist movement as a cult, in which the MAGA hordes grovel before their messianic former president. It’s not necessarily an issue-driven devotion, though there are policy implications, but more about how Trump makes his admirers feel.

A bona fide cult of personality. These critics have a point about the levels of enthusiasm Trump inspires among his faithful. But they are wrong about his phenomenon being unique to him.

Take a look at the cult of Kamala.

When President Joe Biden left the presidential race and the vice president immediately became the de facto Democratic nominee, she was heralded as a savior whose character and mission were as pure as wind-driven snow. CNN’s Van Jones said that “Kamalamania” gives America a “heartbeat of hope” after the “deathwatch for democracy” that was the original Biden–Trump matchup. Much like popular images and memes of Trump with bulging strongman muscles, Kamala’s clan loves to portray her as Wonder Woman, Captain America, and even the Statue of Liberty. The neoconservative Washington Post Never-Trumper Jennifer Rubin wrote on X, “what is that feeling… ah, the knot in my stomach and the weight on my heart have lifted. I have hope for democracy.” “White Woman for Kamala” and even “White Dudes for Harris” activist groups have sprung up, not dissimilar to “Blacks for Trump.” The View gushed with love for Harris. When her running mate, Minnesota’s Governor Tim Walz, was announced, the mostly unknown politician also became an overnight sensation for Democrats.

Never mind that Harris doesn’t have a single policy position on her website. It’s really not about that.

[meandmybigmouth]

WHY? It's easier to grovel and boot lick Trump and blame the democrats!

[aingeal98]

So many deeply stupid arguments are emerging from people who are supposed to be more enlightened than conservatives and tankies like it's genuinely brain breaking.

It's "Support the lesser evil" when it comes to American politics and voting a man complicit in funding and aiding genocide against someone who would continue to do so but with more open racism, but it's ignore the lesser evil argument when it comes to Hamas or the Houthis. You have to call them evil terrorists and if you acknowledge any context or even analyse their motives you are evil and support them because they only exist to hurt me personally and they want nothing but western blood. Ignore how Israeli leaders have more blood on their hands than all of Hamas combined. Ignore the active genocide. Ignore the Houthis (who yes are evil) explicitly saying why they chose to do a blockade and how the west can stop it. You can't acknowledge a lesser evil in this situation because they're brown and not part of our civilised western democracies. It's evil vs evil but one is actively committing a genocide and one is trying to push governments into stopping it.

"But the Houthis are evil! They don't care about Gaza!" The West did not bomb the Houthis because they're evil. They don't care about the Houthis antisemitism or anything else they do to Yemen. They bombed them because the Houthis hijacked ships in order to disrupt trade, and have stated that they have done so in order to stop the genocide in Gaza. Because all the West cares about is it's capitalist system and violently enforcing it. Bombing them instead of trying to stop the genocide means that in this situation you have handed the moral high ground to the fucking Houthis. In this specific situation aka the genocide of Palestinians, the Houthis are the lesser evil to the democratic west's Trump. Congrats to the governments who took part in that. Great look.

"You can't afford to play purity politics against Trump!" You are demanding that people who are having their family murdered as we speak shut up and vote for the man who is arming and supporting the fascist who is doing the killing. You are saying their families are acceptable sacrifices to save your own skin. There is no good option here but the smug righteousness makes you disgusting to me. At least acknowledge what you're actually asking for instead of being a complete moral coward.

"Silly leftists, Bibi hates Biden!" Yes! He does! And yet Biden will still grovel and tank his own support and bypass congress to send arms to a fascist who hates him and wishes he was Trump, because Biden's support for western imperialism is stronger than his own dignity as well as his concern for his voters. How is this an actual argument I've seen people make. Netanyahu hating Biden doesn't mean shit if Biden won't stop licking his boots and trying to prove he can be just as supportive of fascists as Trump!

Biden did a lot of good with domestic policy and with Ukraine. He and his government are also supporting a genocide and if you deny that at this point there is no hope for you to be considered a serious person. People understand why Trump supporters insist he did nothing wrong and people understand why you do the same for Biden.

Like just. Cop on.