#vote and get off my lawn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sirfrogsworth · 17 days ago

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Early voting to beat the lines... the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

So... yesterday was quite the day.

After being stuck in bed for the past 6 weeks with some mystery slump, I was finally feeling better. So I decided I would try to cram as many errands into my day as possible. That works better for me when I drive out into the world because I end up only having to do one big recovery instead of a bunch of little recoveries.

My to-do list...

Go to the doctor

Vote early

Return oxygen machine to FedEx store for scammy eBay guy

Return Amazon package to the UPS store

Get gasoline for my whip

Go to Discount Tire to get my tires filled for free

Drop a check off for my lawn guy

Mail a secret package to Katrina at the US Post Office

It would have been nice if I could have gone to just one shipping place instead of all three, but the universe has a sense of humor and likes to do shit like that to me on a regular basis.

So, I get my checkup, it goes quick, no long wait, I'm feeling good.

As I get in my car, it starts to rain. It was an ugly day and it actually has not stopped raining to this very moment a day later. Just gray, windy, chilly, and wet. I look up the voting place and start the GPS.

Wipers and music on full blast, it's time to get my vote on.

When I reach my destination, I realize early voting is at some kind of private golf club. And at the center is a recreation center—which is a public building.

So it's like this private/public turducken situation.

I was expecting this errand to take 20 minutes. Because early voting always seemed like a way to get in before the crowds of election day for a more convenient voting experience.

But the parking lot was packed and I feared my expectations were about to be subverted.

As I walk through the parking lot I see a bunch of signs in the ground.

And a particular one caught my eye.

This is bullshit.

Like, just a straight up lie. No truth to it whatsoever.

Amendment 3 in Missouri basically restores abortion rights in the state. And Republicans have taken issue with the following language...

"The Government shall not deny or infringe upon a person's fundamental right to reproductive freedom, which is the right to make and carry out decisions about all matters relating to reproductive health care, including but not limited to prenatal care, childbirth, postpartum care, birth control, abortion care, miscarriage care, and respectful birthing conditions."

They claim the phrasing "but not limited to" means you can give an 8-year-old kid "sex change surgery."

This is how their online flyer puts it...

It could also include a free puppy.

Or a zillion bucks.

Or a clown will come to your house after the abortion and honk your nose.

It's ridiculous and desperate. I honestly don't know how it is legal for them to put a lie like that outside of a polling location, but here we are.

The organization "Missouri Stands with Women" is run by... a man.

It was set up by a lawyer named "Edward Greim" on behalf of the Federalist Society.

His law firm has a lovely biography about him. And a bunch of publicly available contact information. I say that for no reason whatsoever.

The Federalist Society funds all kinds of shit like this. Their main thing is installing conservative judges all over the country who will reinterpret or negate legislation. And they do it all to "stand with women" by taking away their reproductive rights.

Here is the board of directors of the Federalist Society.

Ya know, before I looked this up, I said to myself, "I bet it's going to be a sausage fest." I am psychic.

I think it would be more accurate to say they stand with A woman.

Just one.

And she sucks.

Nicole is a law professor at Notre Dame. She chose her Catholicism over her right to choose. The Catholic Church will fuck your rights and your children and Nicole will help them do it.

Anyway... back to my quick and easy voting experience...

So as I'm walking in to vote I keep passing a ton of these awful signs. I notice an older woman standing next to the aforementioned "child sex change" sign and she says, "Can I talk to you about Amendment 3?"

At this point, I'm pretty angry. I look her dead in the eyes and say with my most assholish tone, "NO." as I walk past her.

And then she finishes her sentence...

"...to protect the reproductive rights of women."

Ah, dammit.

I thought she was an old Karen but she was cool as heck. Standing out in the rain telling people the sign is bullshit. I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was stuck in full social anxiety mode so I just kept walking.

If that old lady happens to have a Tumblr and follows me and is willing to read this giant story... I just want to say I am sorry. I thought you were awful and I should have let you finish your sentence. You're super cool and I'm happy there are folks like you fighting for what is right.

I get inside and a young woman greets me. She tells me the line is in the next room and points. I still wasn't quite sure what the situation was. The parking lot being full gave me pause, but I was still hopeful I could have a swift early voting experience.

But I walk through the doors and into a huge gymnasium and my heart sinks.

It's hard to represent in pictures how long this line is.

It goes all the way to the end of the gym, loops around, and comes back. At first I was not too discouraged, because there was a nice gentle ramp at the start of the line.

But then I notice several sets of stairs at different stages of the line. And I'm just thinking how hard it would be to stand in this line and then also having to go up and down several sets of stairs.

So I go back to the young woman working there and ask what their accessible voting options are. And she told me I could do curbside voting and points outside. I then notice a line of cars wrapped around the parking lot. I don't know how I didn't see them walking in, but I guess I was too busy being a jerk to elderly progressive women.

My biggest concern was time.

The longer this takes, the more energy I use up, the longer my eventual recovery will be.

They tell me the car option is the slowest. And I could be in line for 2 to 3 hours. And then an old man who seemed to be in charge walks over and tells me the fastest option is to stand in line.

So I walk back out to my car and grab my cane and decide to try the long serpentine gynasium line.

I start walking up the ramp and some of the other folks see how slow and labored I'm walking and they start encouraging me. "You can do it! You got this!" Which I suppose was meant to be a positive helpful thing. But I found it to be embarrassing.

I get to the end of the line and notice most of the line has bleachers directly next to it. So I decide to sit down and rest and figure out how I am going to survive this experience.

It took me a while to recover from the long walk to this spot. I watched a bunch of people pass me by and the line was actually getting much longer as I rested. I was not really sure what to do. I was trying to problem-solve this situation but the answer that kept popping up in my mind was just... "go home."

But I felt this was too important and that wasn't really an option.

My best idea was to ask someone if they would hold my spot in line. Perhaps I could just sit in the bleachers and follow them around in the line, staying as close to them as I could. But my social anxiety was set to maximum and I was not finding the courage to ask someone.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, resting, and thinking, I basically say, "Fuck it, I'll try to stand in line."

I get up and start walking to the end of the line.

Then I hear a voice yell out to me.

"Hey, man! Come over here! This is your spot!"

A young man was waving at me. He was accompanied by his wife. Both of them were dressed in black and they had a sort of goth skater aesthetic going on. He had a competitively bushy beard, but with less gray. And she had very vivid purple hair.

I was a little confused and still processing what was happening. Then they both started waving at me to join them in line. They remembered I got there just before and told me I should be in front of them. I walk over and thank them. Then he suggests...

"Hey, why don't you just sit in the bleachers and follow us around the line."

He suggested my idea!

Without me asking!

I felt like he read my mind or something.

Can bearded people read each others' minds? Was this some beard skill I was unaware of?

"I got you, man. You just sit and we'll keep your place."

And his violet hair'd significant other agreed. "Yeah, we got you."

The kindness of strangers was more accessible than my polling place and I was just so thankful in that moment.

So I sat in the bleachers and watched them traverse the line. In the middle of the gym there were some teenagers playing basketball. And so I just rested and watched them play.

That young man in the red pants was like a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter. He was just embarrassing the others. He was bouncing the ball behind his back and through his legs and then he just danced around his opponents like a figure skater. It was such an unbalanced matchup. He might as well have been playing 4th graders. Not only was he significantly faster and more maneuverable, but he was consistently hitting 3-pointers.

And then during a break, he ran towards the hoop, jumped from the free throw line, flew all the way to the net, grabbed onto the rim, and proceeded to do several pull ups as if they were the easiest thing in the world. I don't think I've seen anyone jump that far and that high in real life and it was just a bonkers display of athleticism.

I spent the entire wait watching him humiliate the others—hoping he would get a full ride scholarship to some prestigious university.

And I hoped the other boys paid attention in school and got straight As, because basketball was not going to work out for them.

As my new goth skater friends progressed through the line, I would make sure to keep sight of them. Every once in a while I'd give them a head nod to acknowledge we were in this together. After an hour and a half they were at the final segment of the line, so I sat next to the wheelchair folks.

I probably could have argued to sit with them in the first place. But I really did not feel like making the case that I was just as disabled as them and needed that level of consideration. The old man running things seemed quite stressed and was putting out 8 fires at once. And my anxiety wasn't really cooperating enough to be assertive in my needs.

But it worked out in the end, so I'm not going to dwell on the lack of accommodation for people who weren't *visually* disabled.

My new bearded friend neared the end and waved me over. I thanked him and his wife profusely.

I joked, "Thank you for adopting a voter."

They seemed confused by my joke.

"No problem, man. Happy to help."

I told him and his wife they truly saved me. "I honestly don't think I would have made it through the line." And then I looked back...

I said, "As crazy as this is, I do find this kind of turnout encouraging." His wife agreed and said, "We were saying the same thing!" And then I thought, "Can the wives of bearded people absorb the mind reading ability? I hope she can't read my mind right now. Although, I'm mostly thinking that her hair is a really cool shade of purple, so she'd probably find that complimentary."

As I waited to get my ballot I could hear the happy couple behind me. They were very cute. They were making fun of each other in a very lovey-dovey fashion. I had high hopes they were going to grow old and gray and purple together based on their chemistry. And I was just so thankful they were able to recognize that I needed help without me asking. Because I probably would have just caved to my anxiety and not asked for help otherwise.

I got my ballot and sat down to fill in all of the appropriate squares. Thankfully I had prepared a cheat sheet on my phone.

It was an exact replica so I was able to copy it and finish quite rapidly.

Then I fed my votes into the vote-eating monster and they gave me a sticker.

My quick 20 minute adventure to vote early only took 2.5 hours!

And because I didn't want to buck tradition, I stood outside in the wind and the rain and took a voting selfie.

Yep, that seems about right.

Ah, crap... that was only the second thing on my to-do list.

Let's speedrun the rest of this story, shall we?

I drove to FedEx. I hauled a 40 pound box inside. I plopped it on the counter and said, "Man, this thing is heavy!" as I tried to catch my breath. The 20 year old working there then lifted it like it was a feather and I felt great about that.

I drove to the gas station because I was nearly on empty—that is both a metaphor and not a metaphor. I filled my ride with go juice.

I noticed I was a mile from the tire store and they fill up tires for free. So I did that and the guy was super nice and complimented my tires. I felt both weird and proud about having my tires complimented. Like, I had nothing to do with my tires being nice. But I accepted the praise on their behalf.

I drove to the UPS store. The last time I was there I made a scene. They refused to box up a return and I got upset and wasn't feeling well and they had to find a chair for me to sit in because I was going to faint. So I was hoping the same woman wasn't there, but she was. She didn't recognize me, so it was fine.

I drove to my lawn guy's house. He wasn't home. I dropped a check in his mailbox. My checks have corgis on them. My checks are cute.

I drove to the post office. I sent a secret package to my bestie, Katrina. I'd tell you what is in it, but it is an inside joke and you wouldn't get it. The woman noticed my voting sticker and I couldn't help thinking about what I just accomplished to get that sticker.

On my way out I noticed a miracle.

2 of the 4 doors were fixed!

I mean, I don't know why they couldn't fix all 4, but now the employees won't freeze in the winter. So I take that as a win. It only took a year and a half to accomplish and I'm sure all of my phone calls and emails did not help at all. But I'm going to pretend I saved the day regardless.

And then... I drove home.

5 hours of errands.

I was so fucking tired. My back was on fire with pain. I immediately collapsed into my bed. I passed out. And I slept for 14 hours.

The End

#long post

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remotewatch · 3 months ago

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nothing but a sentence 🩸

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.8k wc

summary: period sex with jack for anon ‼️ hope you enjoy lovely 🤍

cw: period sex, period head, certified boyfriend material jack, domestic bliss, whereee did all this fluff come from, sacrilege if you squint, messy eating, unprotected sex (VOTE IF YOU WANNA RECREATE ETC ETC), shoutout to my darling editor Sabrina @mystardustmelodyyy for saving this from limbo 🙏

minors dni get off my lawn

At this point in the relationship, Jack manages your period more than you do. You tend to forget that it requires actually going out and purchasing supplies unless he calls you from the pharmacy to complain.

“Why would they stop carrying ultras? That’s so fucked up! And the boxes are getting smaller, it’s sick what they’re doing to you guys!” It’s too easy to picture him waltzing around with three cases of san pellegrino under one arm and an overflowing snack basket in the other, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder while he yaps about pink taxes.

“Do you want canned or fresh lychee? Never mind, I’ll get both.” he decides before you can respond. “Did you want anything else?”

“I want to sleep,” you mumble. You were currently being throttled on two fronts by nauseating cramps and a vicious migraine, leaving no energy left to manage his shopping list. It was hard enough just to reach and grab the ibuprofen without alerting your uterus that you had moved, yet he’s still talking as you doze off:

“We’ve got edibles and melatonin in the cabinet, but I’ll get some mag glycinate, and are you SURE you don’t need…”

“Dealer’s choice, I trust your judgement,” you murmur. “When will you be home?”

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll be back around 6.”

“See you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He finds you wrapped in two heating pads, face pressed into the couch, full water glass in the same spot he left it on the coffee table.

“I feel like I just died,” you groan, rubbing your eyes and tentatively stretching your legs.

“Come on, you gotta hydrate,” Jack rustles through the grocery bags looking for a loose water bottle with a sport cap before pressing it against your mouth. He frowns and doesn’t take it out when you try to move away.

“At least half a glass, come on. I’m following orders here.” He’s very gentle not to flood your mouth and make you cough, but you can see his eyes flicker down to watch your lips wrap around the cap (he’s only human, after all).

“Thank you,” you croak when he finally sets it down, voice slightly less raspy than before.

“Do you want a tea? I’m making you a tea.”

He’s off rustling through the kitchen for the ginger lemon amid the boxes of just ginger or just lemon, but despite his best efforts, the noise is killing you. Every shut drawer sounds like a door slamming with this headache, and Jack sounds like he’s still speaking into your ear even though he’s mainly talking to himself.

“And I’ll get started on dinner-what would you like? I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Oh, also! I got those vaseline body balm rollers you like.”

Your eyes shoot wide open and light up as he trots over to hand you your treat.

“Oh my god, and you found the cocoa butter kind! You’re the best!”

The rich, nutty scent of the balm floods the room when you unscrew the top and gives you a second wind. This and a shower will fix you for sure, just as soon as you can make your way to the bathroom.

Jack fills in the blanks as soon as you look back up at him apprehensively and start with the vague gesturing and “would you mind…”

“Of course not. There’s no need for you be walking right now, that would be crazy!” If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d be swooning at the way he effortlessly scoops you up and walks over to set you down on the glossy teak shower stool (a million percent worthwhile at times like this).

“Do you want any more help in there?” It sounds like a joke, but you know he’d wash you in a heartbeat if you asked. You can’t help matching his smile.

“I think I’ve got it handled.”

“I’ll put dinner on, then.”

When you emerge, your headache has all but subsided, and while you’re still pretty out of it, the heat has done wonders for your cramps and stiffness. You can’t be bothered to do anything but throw on a pair of thinx and flop down onto the bed, slathering on more of your new balm just to keep smelling it.

Jack knocks at the open bedroom door with your tea and a fresh glass of water.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were baking in here,” he teases as sets them on the nightstand. “Dinner is on in 30 by the way.”

The idea of leaving your bed right now sounds about as appealing as getting all your teeth pulled, but you’d never dream of eating on the scrumptious new Matouk linens; the utter disrespect!

“Can you just put me back to sleep instead?”

“Sure, of course. You want a gummy or-“

“Jack!”

“Right, got it!” And he’s skittering off to grab a vibe and towel while you untangle yourself from heating pad cords.

Jack is nearly skipping coming back from the hallway closet with a fistful of toys before rolling you as little as possible to tuck the towel under your lower half. As soon as he’s back within reach, you grab a handful of his hair and drag him down to kneel next to you. He nods at the pile of silicone on the nightstand as he playfully snaps at your elastic: “Are we feeling manual or automatic?”, but you’re already bucking your hips up to shove the underwear down your thighs and wincing at the sudden movement.

“You ok?” He drops the playful tone immediately and furrows his brow in concern. You throw your arm out to grab a toy at random, landing on a satisfier. Perfect.

“Ask me again in ten minutes,” you sigh dramatically to lighten the mood, but you’re still not feeling great.

“Roger that,” Jack bites back a smug grin -as if he’s ever needed all ten- and crawls gingerly into bed to snake one arm under your waist and accept the toy with the other.

It has to be some sort of sick joke how you’re this unbelievably sensitive when you still feel so shitty. Every single nerve ending in your clit is humming in tandem with the pulses of the satisfier; the delicious sensations ricochet up and down your body enough that even your eye sockets feel tingly.

He’s entirely absorbed in making you cum and tuned into every move you make, still glancing up now and then to check for any hint of discomfort. As much as he’s committed to pleasing you, he can’t conceal the blush creeping up his neck and down from his temples, nor his ragged breathing. There’s barely enough time to acclimate and enjoy it before you feel yourself getting drawn right over the edge.

“You’ve got it-don’t fucking move-so good to me, Jack, fuck-thank you,”

You screw your eyes shut on pure instinct while your orgasm rolls through; one of your hands fumbles for purchase in his curls as he mouths sloppily over your breasts. When you manage to take another peek at him, his eyes are all crinkled up like he’s smiling while his mouth remains focused on the task at hand. A little tug on his hair and he’s cheerily licking his way down your abdomen, really letting his tongue drag so he has more time to grind against your thigh. You can already feel the wet spot forming on his boxer briefs, such a romantic!

“Having fun down there?” you purr. Jack jerks his head up, revealing a red splotch on the point of his chin.

“God, yes. Can I lick you? Please?” You’d think he’s the one who’d just came from how breathy he sounds. You cross your ankles between his shoulder blades and readjust your grip on his hair.

“Always.”

For once, Jack shows some restraint eating you. It’s all broad, slow licks in time with your heartbeat; he falls right into a natural rhythm that reminds you of crashing waves. His fingers lace together across your stomach like he’s praying, and each adoring exhale only adds to the effect. Every time he dives back in after catching his breath, a new drip flows out hot and coppery to coat him from the nose down. It’s such a perfect mess; the harsh-edged, gleaming paint job stretching ear to ear and the little smear between his eyebrows make him look like he’s been baptized in your blood.

It’s a wonder he can even hear your faint whispers of “Jack, just-just fuck me, please,” over how shamelessly he’s dragging his face through you, but he’s always been something of a miracle worker.

There’s a long, indulgent slurp like a bathtub finishing draining that makes your thoughts blur around the edges before he allows you to pull him off you and slide your feet languidly under his shorts. You’re way too sleepy to be of much help, but he’s happy to shove the waistband low enough to tuck under his balls and half wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls back up to you.

The blood pools sluggishly towards the high points of Jack’s face, and a drop splatters onto your cheek before he can stop it. Without hesitation, he swoops down to lap it up and kiss a fainter mark in its place. Barely audible, you somehow remember to pant a reminder into his ear.

“You just gotta be careful right now, my cervix is like-”

“-right up front, I remember. I gotcha, no worries,” he presses another sticky kiss to your temple as he pushes halfway in, abs clenching to keep from slipping too deep. He’s delightful as always, but each thrust is winding your nerves tighter, making your clit ache just as much as the rest of you. Fumbling once again at the nightstand, you find another vibe designed to rest snugly between you two so he’s got both hands free to rest his chin on, just rocking away while he watches you drift off. When he hits at just the right angle, you back bows up hard enough to audibly crack in relief. Those waves of relaxation mixing with the constant rumbling from the toy overwhelm you once again, dissolving what’s left of your discomfort and tugging you towards unconsciousness.

Jack can’t hold himself back when he feels you practically sucking him back in on every outstroke, and a brazen whine bursts from his throat as he pulls out, freeing a gush of pink tinged cum. It only feels natural to lean up to kiss him and lap the residual streaks from around his lips.

“Feel better?” he sighs against you, grinning so wide the drier patches on his dimples crack and start to flake off onto the towel.

“So much better,” your words slur together, and the rest of your thoughts scatter once your heads falls back onto the pillow

“You want a hot washcloth?”

“Mmmm,” It takes you a second to piece the simple sentence together; you’re still blinking away the residual stars from your vision.

“In ten minutes?”

#jack schlossberg #jack schlossberg x reader #freak nasty #get a running start put ya javelin in it!!!#anon you pushed a gross button in my head I’m real sorry if it’s too nasty #but also not that sorry #paint his face 2025 #this fic is #branded

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mamirhodessxox · 11 months ago

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Daddy Dearest <3

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Girl dad!Leon x Mom!Reader

Blue for Leon pink for reader & purple for D/N

Desc: Despite his career path Leon has been developing pretty well to his girl dad life & revolves entirely around world around his wife & sweet little angel babygirl

Tags: Tooth Aching fluff, Dilf Leon, No smut ‼️‼️‼️, Just dad Leon living his dream! No use of y/n, D/n stands for Daughters Name

I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated!!!

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Leon Loving his life was an understatement, He was a miserable guy not so long ago but it all changed once he met you & had his very first child! Of course after first he was worried about being a deadbeat father, but eventually he suited up and prepared for everything was to come, dropped his drinking habits, went to therapy for most of his trauma from working on the most messed up cases world wide known to mankind & even baby proofing the entire house you two shared for over 4 years.

He even went out of his way to take random target trips with you during your pregnancy to stare at nursery furniture and random trinkets and toys he found, holding up gender neutral baby clothing before knowing the gender & asking “you think this is cute sweetheart?” It was amazing how he became so obsessed with the thought of having his own little family with a white piket fence & beautiful front lawn garden (He started gardening as a coping mechanism which would soon be one of his top hobbies he brought onto his daughter.)

During the gender reveal he was nothing but pure excitement and joy to have a little baby girl that the next day he even went back to target and came home to baby-proof the entire house, testing objects to see if they would fall on a random baby doll etc, so much so that you had to go downstairs at 12 am and force him to take a break and come to bed, “You don’t think she’ll hit her head on the table one day right? I really wouldn’t want my little princess to get hurt” “I think you need to put down the baby proofing tools for the night & actually come to bed hun, it’s almost 1 o’clock”

Some days you would be in pure anguish because D/N would be doing pure gymnastics in your belly that Leon had to ‘have a talk’ but most of the time during your pregnancy he was always talking to your tummy, Asking her to relax on the jumping around in there, Sometimes waking up super early in the morning to talk to your belly & sometimes waking you up & hearing you tell him off a little bit in a muffled voice since you were buried in your body pillow. “Hi babygirl, you excited to get outta there & see your new room? Yeah? Oh I know your excited angel but you can’t keep kicking mama like this sweetheart it hurts her!”, “Can’t keep jumpin’ around in mommy’s belly sweetness your driving her insane sweetheart” “oh yeah!?You excited babydoll?” “Good morning my sweet girl, I can’t wait to see you y’know, mommy & I are so excited to meet you & hold you & love yo-“ “Leon what the hell are you doing awake at 5:30??” “Uh oh I woke up mom” “leon I swear to god if you don’t go back to sleep.”

And then came along the arrival of his awaited babygirl, he was so excited he even set up a little mini red carpet infront of her nursery & stars next to the door & even putting a little sign on your guys’ front door in bold glittery pink ‘Welcome Home Princess D/N” He even brought a little camera to make a home tape for every memory he makes with you & your daughter so when she is finally old enough she can watch, this tape includes her birthing where your shouting & screams could be heard such as “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT LEON!!” “I’M GONNA KILL YOU IN YOUR FUCKING SLEEP!”& his light crying of when she was born

After your daughter was born it was extremely difficult for you two to set a fair sleep schedule so for the first few weeks Leon would wake up at 2:30 AM whenever D/N was crying on the baby monitor and move the rocking chair placed in her room right next to the crib “What’s the matter sweetness? Can’t sleep again? I know babygirl it must be so tough trying to get your little beauty sleep huh?” He would slip his hand through the little bars of the crib and smile giddily every time she would wrap her little hand around his thumb, growing up was the most difficult for him, he cried every-time his sweet angel took her first steps, said her first word which was obviously a strained “da-da” which was to be expected since D/N was a total daddy’s girl. most of the time when he was off he would let you go to work so he could spend his days with your guys’ daughter, take her to the petting zoo, a random aquarium where she discovered her favorite animal was a sea horse, Leon’s entire existence revolved around D/N to the point where if her little fist was directed at something she wanted he bought it, she starts crying? He jumps right up to take her off your hands so you can relax, his entire world was revolving around her & you loved to see it, sometimes when you got home from work you’d see Leon on the living room floor with your daughter as she babbled playing with a random stuffed animal monkey “Hi honey, Took her to the petting zoo today, we discovered she really loves monkeys”

Some mornings when you would all sit at the table eating before the day started Leon would watch her in her high chair chew on whatever she had in-front of her causing a small mess where he would chuckle & clean up after her “Your just one messy little girl huh princess? Gonna have to teach you manners now little lady.” And then came the day where she got her very first booboo, I’m sure you can imagine what happened, Little D/N was running around the backyard chasing a butterfly while you & Leon just finished harvesting this falls apples and then randomly you heard a tiny little wail behind you causing Leon to jump up from the ground and scoop up his baby girl “Baby she has a cut on her knee we need to take her to the hospital now! Get in the car!” “Honey I think she’s alright nothing a little rubbing alcohol & a band aid can’t fix.” When the two of you went inside and into the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bath tub and sat little D/N on his knee while you rubbed some alcohol on her knee which reasonably made her wail out more than she did beforehand causing Leon to start tearing up and kissing the top of her head “I know angel I know it hurts but we can’t let your lil’ booboo get worse & nasty now can we?” Once you finished that 1 minute of anguish you two sat in the living room holding her close as you slightly teased Leon for his light crying “You love making daddy cry now don’t you honey? You know you have him tied up around your little finger huh” You joked while Leon grunted while worryingly making sure she didn’t hurt herself again

One day you caught him in her room when she was around 4 years old having a little tea party, he was sat in a chair next to her that was far to tiny for him to fit in as he wore a pink tiara around his head that was again to tiny for him & a pink fluffy tutu around his waist while fake sipping tea from the tea cup while causing her to giggle, You had just gotten home from work & leaned against the doorway smiling and holding in a laugh but Leon smiled back and stood up and had the tiny chair stuck on his ass causing you & D/N to laugh obnoxiously especially after he eventually was able to pull it off and walk over to you mumbling “shut up.” Before kissing you lightly & asking how your day went. Obviously because of his career he had to miss some important events at school for D/N and he felt AWFUL. He cried in your arms one night after returning from a 1 week trip where he missed father daughter school day where he imagined his poor babygirl sitting at her table in kindergarten watching everyone else with their dad while she had a confused expression. And every single night after that for a month straight he would have little sleepovers in her room where he read her bedtime stories, you know that one 3 little kitties book from despicable me? He obviously read that to her with the brightest smile on his face and once it was time for bed her would sleep on the floor right next to her toddler bed “Goodnight babygirl, daddy loves you so so much y’know that? You got his heart right in your little fist”

By the time she was 10 he was always helping her with school projects & homework & even going to father daughter dances with her, if

D/N wanted something all she had to do was ask and bat her little lashes, some days when he went to go pick her up from school with you in the car he would see her talking to a boy before running off to the car leaving him with a puzzled face “who the hell is that little twerp near my daughter? She does know he is not good enough for her right?” “Nuh-uh Leon, Don’t start let her have friend alright?” “Sweetheart just look at the little shit! He’s practically blushing looking at her right now!” “Oh stop it.”

Just imagine what it would be like when D/N is finally a teenager and brings a boy home for the first time..Leon makes it VERY clear nobody is good enough for his little girl & never will be, he is the entire reason why her standards will be extremely high…

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

🏷️ List: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert

#leon s kennedy rp #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #dad!leon kennedy #girl dad!leon kennedy #god fucking help me #i made this

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qqueenofhades · 5 months ago

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Texas doesn't have mail in voting, you can't register to vote online, and you have to register 30 days before election day.

Republicans do not want you to vote. SPITE THEM.

#just checked both here and on my SOS website to be SUPER DUPER SURE #even though i vote in every election and live in a voting-friendly blue state #everything i hear about attempting to vote in texas still sounds insane but that's republicans for you!#vote! piss off trump and the new york times and the republican party and vladimir putin and lots of other terrible people!#check your registration #check the laws #be fucking ready to motherfucking vote #vote and get off my lawn

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simply-ivanka · 2 months ago

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Why Do the Young Vote Left?

Socialist teachers lead them to think of government as a free-money tree.

It’s the gifts. The progressive vibe is that big government will take care of you. It knows what’s best for you. It will redistribute money how it pleases. You need to put a smile on your face while it takes away your laurels, guns and money. “We believe in the collective,” Ms. Harris declared, much like Hillary Clinton’s “it takes a village.” Equity in Schenectady. Handouts for all.

You want proof? Ms. Harris’s Senate voting record is leftward of socialist Bernie Sanders. Vice-presidential candidate Tim Walz fawns over China, saying “everyone is the same and everyone shares.” Viva la revolución and Che Guevara T-shirts for all.

This is antifreedom. Too many of today’s youth fall in line with progressives because they’re undereducated and overindoctrinated with someone else’s agenda. I watched in horror as local high-school biology classes spent weeks on the science of recycling centers and only a short afternoon on mitochondria and mitosis. Profit is a bad word. It’s gimme, gimme, whether it’s student loan forgiveness, free healthcare or tax credits.

Who’s to blame? Misguided capitalism-hating social-studies teachers to start, with Tim Walzian thinking: “One person’s socialism is another person’s neighborliness.” Who is he, Mr. Rogers? Add like-minded college professors. Work ethic and ambition are evaporating.

Worse, Pew Research notes almost a third of currently childless 18- to 34-year-olds aren’t sure if they ever want children. Why? The Harris campaign’s “climate engagement director,” Camila Thorndike, is among the hesitant, telling the Washington Post, “I want to protect them from suffering.” Perpetually pessimistic progressive prognostications induce fear. No wonder U.S. fertility rates are at historic lows.

OK, I know I’m asking for trouble. Every time I write about youth, I get a chorus of comments and tweets telling me I’m an old man screaming, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn.” Yeah, yeah. Very clever. I’m not that old. But in the Kamala collective—as California attempted—private “ornamental” lawns are out, and drought-resistant vegetation is in. Progressives literally want you off your own lawn.

My conversations with young folks who do exhibit some actual drive show their confusion: “I want to do a startup.” Great! To do what? “A sustainable something or other. To save the planet.” OK, is it productive? “What’s that?” Does it scale? “Huh?” Will it do more with less? “Not really, it needs lots of money to keep going and save more of the world.” Sounds like a nonprofit. (That usually invokes a smile.) Actually, wealth comes from delivering ever-cheaper stuff to millions of people, not handouts. “I don’t care about money.”

OK, I say, but progress and societal wealth happen when you delight customers and postpone consumption to reinvest profits into better products. The looks on their faces are as if I’m describing Chinese arithmetic.

Our youth aren’t lazy but lost. Progressives have strong opinions about society but no viable solution beyond handing out other people’s money—taken from the few who actually are productive, drive progress and generate wealth by fulfilling customer needs. It’s a downward spiral: When progressives tax—screaming “fair share!”—they cripple the productive few who actually create the real non-burger-flipping, get-out-of-your-parent’s-basement jobs.

To aggressive progressives, government is simply a magic money tree. Vote left and dollars appear. The gross incompetence of government—think billions for eight electric vehicle chargers—destroyed healthcare (thank you, ObamaCare) and education (assisted by Randi Weingarten’s teachers union) and is close to destroying energy (net zero), even while the Biden-Harris administration works hard to destroy Big Tech—one of the few productive industries. And I’ll never forgive progressive Hollywood for turning “Star Wars” into unwatchable wokey Wookiee drivel.

What industries will be left standing? Who cares, because the dreamy types think generative artificial intelligence will kill all jobs and government will provide universal basic income so they can Zyn, TikTok and play College Football 25 videogames all day. A naive youthful triumphalism.

This is a false endgame. There is so much more to be invented: drugs, immunotherapy, fusion, self-folding clothes, humanoid robotics, flying cars. Hard brain work plus quality recharging leisure time is the goal, not a nation of welfare queens.

I feel sorry for the youth that do care, do work hard, are productive and help push the boulder of progress up that steep slope, while essentially carrying all the others on their backs. It’s you against the collective, the village, which is always about being supported, pampered, living off someone else’s hard work and then complaining that the handouts aren’t big enough. So, yeah, get off my lawn, while lawns are still allowed.

#Harris #Democrats #Biden #Obama #-----#Vote for #trump #trump 2024 #president trump #repost #america first #americans first #america #donald trump #ivanka

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suikasweetheart · 7 months ago

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Hind's Hall

Woah! Yeah, the people, they won't leave What is threatenin’ about divesting and wanting peace? The problem isn't the protests, it’s what they're protesting It goes against what our country is funding (Hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free (Hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free When I was seven, I learned a lesson from Cube and Eazy-E What was it again? Oh yeah, f**k the police (Woo)

Actors in badges protecting property And a system that was designed by white supremacy (Brrt) But the people are in the streets You can pay off Meta, you can't pay off me Politicians who serve by any means AIPAC, CUFI, and all the companies You see, we sell fear around the land of the free But this generation here is about to cut the strings You can ban TikTok, take us out the algorithm But it's too late, we've seen the truth, we bear witness Seen the rubble, the buildings, the mothers and the children And all the men that you murdered and then we see how you spin it Who gets the right to defend and who gets the right of resistance Has always been about dollars and the color of your pigment, but White supremacy is finally on blast Screaming "Free Palestine" ’til they’re home at last (Woo)

We see the lies in them, claiming it’s antisemitic to be anti-Zionist I've seen Jewish brothers and sisters out there and riding in Solidarity and screaming "Free Palestine" with them Organizin’, unlearning and finally cutting ties with A state that's gotta rely on an apartheid system to uphold an occupying violent History been repeating for the last seventy-five The Nakba never ended, the colonizer lied (Woo) If students in tents posted on the lawn Occupying the quad is really against the law And a reason to call in the police and their squad Where does genocide land in your definition, huh? (Hey; hey) Destroying every college in Gaza and every mosque Pushing everyone into Rafah and dropping bombs The blood is on your hands, Biden, we can see it all And f**k no, I'm not voting for you in the fall (Woo) Undecided, you can't twist the truth, the people out here united Never be defeated when freedom's on the horizon Yet the music industry's quiet, complicit in their platform of silence (Hey, woo)

What happened to the artist? What do you got to say? If I was on a label, you could drop me today I'd be fine with it 'cause the heart fed my page I want a ceasefire, f**k a response from Drake (Woo) What you willing to risk? What you willing to give? What if you were in Gaza? What if those were your kids? If the West was pretending that you didn't exist You'd want the world to stand up and the students finally did, let's get it (Woo)

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lemoncrushh · 5 months ago

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Fratboy Harry - Part 9

Summary: Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, angst, a very cocky Harry. 18+ ONLY!!

Part 9 Word Count: 2516

STORY PAGE

After having basically a week from hell, Saturday had finally rolled around again. Despite having met with your professor, you didn't do as well on your English exam as you'd hoped. On Wednesday you'd had a job interview that had seemed way too short, and you doubted you'd be offered the position. And then on Thursday as you were headed toward your Ethics class, you passed a student body election going on. A guy you recognized from some of the frat parties was giving his speech, his supporters gathered around him on the lawn. That was when you spotted Harry, his arm thrown casually around the shoulders of a blonde girl. Jamie.

Your blood boiling, you began walking faster, nearly bumping into a short peppy girl who was trying to hand you a flyer.

"Please vote for Alex Webster!" she exclaimed, shoving the piece of paper in your face.

You scowled at her, practically ripping it from her hand before storming off.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?" Jimmy asked when you dropped your backpack on your desk.

"Boys!" you yelled. "You're all so fucking pathetic."

"Hey!" he held his hands up, "Don't lump me in there, please. I'm doing my best."

Your face softened as you sat down. "Sorry, Jimmy. You just may be the exception."

He gave you a grin and patted your hand. "Whoever it is, he's an idiot if he doesn't see how great you are."

You smiled back. "Thanks."

"You going to the party this weekend? I heard it's supposed to be the biggest one this year."

You slumped in your seat and crossed your arms. "Seriously doubt it. I can't deal with fraternity boys and sorority girls anymore."

"I'll be there," Jimmy shrugged. "You can hang out with me. Get drunk and talk smack about everybody."

You threw your head back laughing. "Actually, that does sound pretty sweet."

"So you'll go?"

"I'll think about it."

So now it was Saturday and you were on your way to this stupid frat party with Mandy and a couple other friends. You'd told yourself that you didn't give a shit if you saw Harry or not. He was not your reason for going.

You weren't in the house two seconds before you spotted Jimmy.

"Hey, alright you came!" he greeted you with a hug.

As soon as he released you, your friends had already scattered in different directions. With a shrug, you followed Jimmy into the kitchen where he quickly reached for two cups.

"Nah," you shook your head. "Let's do shots."

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Yep."

With a wink, Jimmy grabbed the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses, pouring the gold liquid into each and handing you one. You quickly licked the side of your hand, shaking salt onto it.

"Bottoms up," you said before licking the salt and taking the shot.

The warm liquor warmed your throat instantly as you reached for a lime wedge to suck on.

"Another," you announced when you tossed the lime in the trash.

"You sure?" chuckled Jimmy.

"Let's get this party rolling!" you danced, making Jimmy laugh harder.

He poured you another shot, and this time you downed it without bothering with the salt or lime. You shook your head after swallowing, the sting making you cringe slightly. You slammed the shot glass down on the counter and blinked at Jimmy.

"Okay," you lifted a finger, "now this is a officially a party."

You stayed in the kitchen a while with Jimmy, chatting and watching other people come in and out. Mandy made an appearance, her arm looped through Keg Boy's while they shared some kind of spiked punch that somebody made. You were apprehensive to try it yourself, though it resembled the concoction that you'd been drinking the night you met Harry.

Harry.

Almost like he knew you were thinking about him, he just happened to show up at that moment. In fact, you heard his laughter before he even entered the kitchen. He wore a cocky smirk as he leaned against the counter, with none other than Jamie tagging along. It was like deja vu.

With a scowl on your face, you swiftly filled a red Solo cup with the punch and grabbed Jimmy's arm.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," you said.

"What the-"

Jimmy glared at you in question as you pulled him into the living room. When you reached the sofa, he stopped and released his arm from your grip.

"Is he why you didn't wanna come tonight?" he turned to you. "The reason you were so pissed off the other day?"

"Who?" you asked as though you had no idea what he was talking about.

He pursed and lips and narrowed his eyes. "Styles."

You chewed your bottom lip. "Maybe."

Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "Y/N."

"What?"

"I should have known. That guy's a prick."

"Tell me about it," you scoffed.

"I wanted to warn you that night when he was talking to you, but I didn't wanna start anything. Now I guess I should have. What did he do to you?"

"He..." you started. "You know what? It doesn't matter anymore. I came to have a good time, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jimmy gave a lazy smile.

"C'mon then," you raised your cup.

Jimmy slowly raised his beer and you tapped them together.

"Cheers!" you exclaimed before taking several large gulps of your drink, realizing it was more spiked than you thought. And it tasted good.

"Give me the microphone!" you shouted, doing your best to try to stand up.

About an hour ago, somebody had turned on the karaoke machine. You, Jimmy, and several other people had gathered around the floor of the living room to watch people sing off key. If you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol so much, you would have thought it cringe-worthy. But as it was, you found it completely hilarious. After your Grammy-winning performance of a Britney Spears cover, Jimmy had rolled his eyes at you and kissed your cheek, announcing he was taking a breather and going outside. You'd wanted to stay and listen until it was your turn again.

While a girl you knew from somewhere but you couldn't place was up singing some Mariah Carey, and not too badly you might add, a cute guy came and sat next to you. You'd already forgotten his name by the time the song was over, but you didn't care. He was flirting with you, and you liked it. Especially since you'd already had...how many drinks had you had? You'd lost count.

This time you sang an 80s power ballad, encouraging everybody to sway and sing along. Cute Guy was staring at you the entire time, not so much a smile on his face, but like he was drinking you in. It made you feel sexy.

Just as you were singing the last chorus, however, Harry walked into the room and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. You gave him a go to hell look as you returned the microphone to its stand. Then you smiled at Cute Guy before sitting down beside him again. You noticed then that your cup was empty, so you stood up to return to the kitchen to refill it. You stumbled a bit and Cute Guy helped you find your balance.

"You okay?" he asked.

"'m fine," you mumbled.

When you crossed the living room toward the kitchen, you passed Harry.

"Hi," you heard him say.

You glared at him incredulously. Then you rolled your eyes and kept walking, completely dismissing him. You entered the kitchen just as a group of people were cheering about shots. You beamed at them as you stepped closer.

"I want in!" you exclaimed.

"Hell yeah, baby!" one boy yelled, grabbing an extra shot glass.

He filled it with tequila and handed it to you. You got your salt ready and lifted your glass with everyone else. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two other boys standing in the doorway. One was Cute Guy (damn, you wished you could remember his name), and the other was Harry. Deciding to have some fun, you seductively licked your lips before meeting the salt on your hand with your tongue. Then you threw back the shot and grabbed a piece of lime, bringing it to your mouth. You sucked on it gingerly and allowed your tongue to roll around it.

Cute Guy was grinning from ear to ear. Your little game had worked. Harry, however, didn't seem as pleased. He shook his head and crossed his arms again, looking down at the floor. As you threw away the lime, Cute Guy walked up to you.

"Can I have one of those?" he inquired.

"A shot? Sure."

Grabbing the same glass you'd used, you filled it for him. With his eyes on you, he grabbed your hand and licked it, shaking salt on it. You watched him as he licked it again, taking all the salt before tossing back the tequila shot. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you grinned at him.

Without warning, he pulled you to him, his hands on your hips. When his mouth covered yours, a tiny sound escaped your throat.

"C'mon," he whispered, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of the kitchen.

You didn't miss the look on Harry's face as you passed him in the doorway, though you couldn't quite make out its meaning.

You and Cute Guy were almost to the stairs when you heard your name called.

"Y/N! Wait!"

"What?" you whined as you swung around, not bothering to hide your disgust.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Harry asked.

"What do you care?" you slurred.

"You're drunk."

"Indeed I am," you nodded. "It's a party."

You turned back around, giving Cute Guy a wink, and you continued to follow him up the stairs. When you made it to the landing, though, your knees seemed to give out and you fell down laughing.

"Shit," you muttered. "I'm so drunk."

Cute Guy didn't seem affected by it. He reached down to pull you to your feet. You tried to assure him you could make it, but your giggles erupted, and you couldn't stand straight for very long.

"Y/N," you heard Harry call again, only this time he sounded closer. Your vision had blurred suddenly, making it hard to see past two feet. "Please don't do this."

"Fuck off, pal!" you heard another voice say. You thought it was Cute Guy.

"Yeah, leave me alone, Harry!" you managed to shout.

Or at least you thought you did. You weren't sure if your mouth and your brain were cooperating. You started to feel dizzy.

"C'mon, baby," Cute Guy said. "Let's go in here."

"I think I need to lie down," you mumbled.

"Yeah, you can lie down in here."

When you heard a door close, you blinked, your vision coming back to you for a bit. You realized you were in another room, and there was definitely a bed. Hurrying toward it, you collapsed on it, closing your eyes. You felt the bed shift as someone joined you. You felt like you were under water until you felt a pair of lips touch yours. You opened your mouth, almost like a reflex, and before you knew it, a body was pressed against yours, someone else's tongue inside your mouth.

He tasted like tequila and smelled like cologne. You still felt disoriented and very confused, but too tired to fight him. Besides, he wasn't a bad kisser. When you felt his hand reach between your legs, however, you tried to push him off.

"No," you whispered against his lips. "Too tired."

"It's okay," he remarked. "I'm not."

You half chuckled at his words, though you weren't quite sure why you found them funny. You really just wanted to sleep.

Suddenly, you heard a loud knock at the door and the doorknob jiggle. Cute Guy cursed and yelled something like "go away".

"Not a chance, mate!" a familiar voice boomed. "Open the fucking door, now!"

You weren't sure exactly what made Cute Guy decide to abide by Harry's wishes, but you felt him climb off of you. Your eyes mere slits and your vision still blurry, you saw three things happen almost simultaneously. Cute Guy unlocked the door, Jimmy and another guy you didn't know rushed in and pinned him against the wall, and Harry picked you up off the bed.

"What are you doing?" you whined. "I told you to leave me alone!"

"Not gonna happen," he argued.

"You okay to drive man?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied.

"Harry!" you cried, pushing on his chest as he carried you out of the room.

Ignoring your protests, he continued down the stairs and out the front door. You felt the brisk air hit you, instantly cooling the heat on your face. Harry stopped at a car, cursing under his breath.

"I have to put you down for a second," he muttered.

Throwing daggers with your eyes, you allowed him to put you down, where you leaned against the car. Harry shoved his hand in his pocket and retrieved a key fob, pressing the button to unlock the car door. Then pulling you away from the car, he opened the door.

"Get in," he insisted.

"No," you argued.

"Get in!" he repeated.

"Fuck you, Harry!" you yelled. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Yes, you are."

When you didn't move, Harry picked you up like before, placing you in the passenger seat. You pouted, though your limbs felt like jelly. There was no way you could have resisted.

Slamming your door shut, Harry walked around to the driver's side and put the key in the ignition. You heard loud music as soon as he did, and you covered your ears and groaned. Harry turned down the volume and drove away.

The ride to his apartment was silent except for the low radio. He didn't say a word to you, and you were fine with that. You still felt dizzy and disoriented, though you were more aware of your surroundings than you were earlier.

You were able to get out of the car yourself when you arrived, but Harry still put his arm around you to help you walk to the front door. The apartment was dark except for a dim light coming from the bedroom. You heard Harry toss his keys on the table before setting you on the bed. You watched him through heavy eyelids as he removed your shoes.

"I'm drunk," you heard yourself declare.

Harry chuckled softly. "That you are."

"And you're still with Jamie," you added.

Glaring at you, Harry didn't say a word. Instead, he pulled the covers down and laid you back on the bed. You sighed when your head hit the pillow.

You didn't remember much after that except for the lamp being turned off and the bed shifting when Harry must have crawled in. All else was darkness.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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qqueenofhades · 5 months ago

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If I had to guess, if god forbid Trump is elected, I'd put money on Thomas and Alito promptly retiring (as @artielu notes above). Trump will then appoint probably James Ho (the Fifth Circuit insane nutjob whose hardline anti-abortion stance was too much even for the forced-birth anti-Roe wingnuts currently on SCOTUS) and Aileen Cannon, the wildly unqualified district-court hack in Florida who is holding up the Mar-a-Lago documents case at every turn in Trump's favor and is clearly gunning for an appointment to SCOTUS as a result of the personal favors she is doing for the Godfather. James Ho is 51, Aileen Cannon is 42. They will be on the court for another 30 years at minimum. The 6-3 conservative majority will be fucking locked down for the rest of your goddamn adult lives, and anything that gets in front of SCOTUS that your allegedly progressive asses care about? Gone. And somehow it will all be Biden's fault still, apparently? Because This Is Your Brain on Online Leftism.

It can and will get so much worse. Especially while Project 2025 and Trump are doing all the fascist shit they possibly can.

BUT. After 2016 was so epically, cosmically fucked up, in large part because of people shouting that Hillary was evil and SCOTUS didn't matter (and then steadfastly refused to change their opinion even as a wingnut-hijacked SCOTUS functioned exactly as designed), there is still a chance to fix it. It's not GUARANTEED that Thomas would tragically fall off his sugar daddy's yacht and drown, or Alito would mysteriously die on a FedSoc hunting boys' club weekend, but it could also happen. They're both in their mid-70s, and while they won't VOLUNTARILY retire in a second Biden term, there could also very well come a tipping point of scandal when they're forced out. (John Roberts is also a professional ass-saver extraordinaire, and may intervene if they keep making the brand look so bad.)

Biden himself has said the next president will probably have two SCOTUS picks (most likely Thomas and Alito's seats). If we could fill those with progressive/liberal judges, like he's been doing with the lower courts as fast as he can in an attempt to counteract all the Heritage Foundation hacks Trump and McConnell jammed onto the bench between 2017-20, that would flip the court back 5-4 liberal. If Sotomayor retires due to health problems, which is likely even though she's only in her late 60s, Biden would also be able to fortify her seat. The liberal wing would once more have control and could start reversing some of these horrible fucking decisions that SCOTUS pumps out on the regular, even after Biden himself was out of office.

SCOTUS is the way a president's policy keeps functioning long after he is no longer in power. Thomas was appointed by Bush Senior. Alito was appointed by Bush Junior. Kavanaugh, Gorsuch, and ACB were all appointed by Trump and they will remain in their posts for life. If Trump is then allowed to fill two MORE posts -- Trump, the most unqualified, sleazy, rapist, treasonous, fascist fucking scumbag to ever seek any American political office anywhere -- then yeah, there ain't gonna be too much left to work with by the time they're done.

This is not about Moral Purity Pearl Clutching. This is about basic pragmatic hard-tacks choices about the basic reality of how the American government fucking works. If you don't want to vote "for" Biden, then don't frame it that way. You are voting for him to give him the chance to fucking get rid of Thomas and Alito, who have infamously distinguished themselves as even more insane than Trump's handpicked lunatics. You might just be able to save us from the carnage of 2016. But only if you LEARN A DAMN THING.

So. Yes.

Listen up.

The current Supreme Court is a 6-3 conservative majority.

Justice Thomas, that corrupt fascist fucker, is 75.

Justice Alito, that biased fascist fucker, is 74.

Each is married to a fascist ultra right wing woman. Ginny Thomas was actively involved in Trump's efforts to overturn the 2020 election. Martha Ann Alito is the alleged source of the ultra right wing flags on the Alito homes.

If Trump is elected in 2024, Thomas and Alito will retire, just like Kennedy did in 2018. Trump will get to appoint two more justices in their 50s.

Like sexual assaulter and liar Kavanaugh. Or handmaid's tale Coney Barrett. And the conservative majority will be on lock for thirty years. Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Coney Barrett are in their 50s.

Add two more ultraconservative justices in their 50s and you have a five seat conservative majority for 30 years if they live natural lifetimes.

If Trump is elected in 2024, we've not only lost the Court for at least a decade (now) but another thirty years.

What other civil rights would you like to lose? Because YOU WILL. We ALL will.

Can we fucking not? CAN WE FUCKING NOT?

Vote for Biden.

Vote for Democrats for the Senate.

#politics for ts #fucking vote #vote and get off my lawn #good morning y'all SCOTUS still sucks #but we have a chance to fix it!#or conversely be doomed for the rest of our lives #this is not a difficult call

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qqueenofhades · 5 months ago

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do you have any suggestions for organizations or groups or something that are doing any kind of voting campaign/vote dem campaign? i remember in 2020 there was a huge push to do phone banking in swing states, but im seeing almost none of that now, and its making me a bit nervous about the outcome of the election

Sure! Here are some ideas:

Find your state Democratic party for specific networking/volunteering/connecting opportunities in your city or region:

Or volunteer for the national party:

Volunteer for the Biden-Harris campaign! Apparently, regardless of whatever media bullshit it set off, the debate DID result in a huge surge of campaign volunteers in swing states especially, so this is a great time to sign up:

Write postcards for Democratic voters!

Or postcards especially for Democratic voters in swing states:

Have the spoons to make phone calls for Democrats? Do it here:

Read Hopium Chronicles: it is a much-needed antidote to media doomerism and it gives lots of daily volunteering/donating/action tips to Do More, Worry Less:

Give money to Joe Biden and Kamala Harris:

Give to 12 Democrats running in highly flippable House races:

Give or volunteer for a Democratic Senate (ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT if we're going to flip SCOTUS and the map is very hairy this year):

Doing even a bit of this will help you feel better than sitting and worrying. Good luck and go get 'em!

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #vote and get off my lawn

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lifesizehysteria · 4 months ago

Text

A Mother's Blessings | A Bridgerton Fic

Part 2: Hyacinth

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Gen Pairing: Violet Bridgerton/Marcus Anderson Characters: Violet Bridgerton, Marcus Anderson, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Kate Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton Summary: A collection of moments through Violet and Marcus’ courtship in which Violet seeks the blessings of her children. AO3 Part 1

Violet fanned her face, still desperate to cool herself from the oppressive summer heat, despite having moved inside. It seemed they had chosen the worst day possible for a family game of pall-mall; the sun was relentless and there was not a breath of wind nor a single cloud in the sky. The shade provided by the covered seating by the lawn offered little relief from the stifling temperatures, so they had sought refuge inside, filling the hallway with their usual raucous joy as they did so, before settling into a quieter cacophony in the drawing room.

“It is a shame Lord Bridgerton was unable to join us,” Marcus said.

“Yes, well…” Violet began, but found herself unable to provide any further excuse as to why her son had, once again, found a reason to avoid Lord Anderson’s company.

“He is quite busy preparing for our departure to India, I am afraid,” Kate supplied without missing a beat, though Violet caught the quick glance her daughter-in-law sent her direction. She offered her own smile in gratitude, patting the perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand.

“It is probably for the best,” Benedict said. “Our brother has a competitive streak unlike any other. He would have died of heat stroke before ending the game early.”

Marcus laughed. “Is that so?”

“It is true. I do not know where he gets it.” Violet shook her head, secretly grateful Anthony had not been there to insist the game continue. While the weather had been the excuse, Violet was sure it was really mercy that ended the game early. When Hyacinth had suggested they play, Marcus had agreed to join on the condition that Violet play, too. Despite her efforts otherwise, she had not been able to resist him or the children’s insistence. With reluctance, she joined the game, only to thoroughly humiliate herself, despite Marcus’ attempt to throw the game in her favor. They were all laughing so hard by the time they called it off, no one could have continued playing anyway.

“Ah, yes,” Marcus said, the richness of his voice sending a shiver down Violet’s spine. “I believe it is a trait shared by all eldest children. You have met my sister.” He flashed her a dazzling grin, his eyebrows arched knowingly.

“Indeed, I have,” she conceded with a laugh, fanning a new wave of heat from her cheeks and averting her gaze from his shining black eyes.

“Well, I think you could beat Anthony, Lord Anderson,” Hyacinth declared.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Miss Hyacinth. Though, if he is anywhere near as formidable an opponent as the Viscountess, I would not stand a chance.”

“I assure you, he is not,” Kate said, making everyone laugh.

“Anthony certainly did meet his match in you, Sister,” Benedict said.

“As we should all hope to do,” Marcus said, his eyes finding their way to Violet, who bit back a smile while her stomach did a somersault.

Conversation continued to flow, but Violet grew quiet, watching. Marcus looked completely at ease among her brood, the portion of it that was present, at least. There was a noticeable camaraderie between him, Benedict, and Kate, their playfulness rather enjoyable to witness. And with the younger two, he was attentive and kind, including them in conversation and listening to them with genuine interest. Hyacinth was clearly enamored, and although he was a bit subdued, Gregory was receptive to him as well.

“Lord Anderson, are you staying for lunch?” Hyacinth asked, pulling Violet back into the moment.

“Hyacinth!” she chastised, though her daughter did not show an ounce of embarrassment at being so forward. “Please forgive my daughter’s lack of manners.”

Marcus held up a staying hand. “It is quite alright,” he assured her, then turned towards Hyacinth. “Thank you for the invitation. Unfortunately, I have already committed to lunch with my sister, so I cannot join you today. It is my sincerest hope that the offer may be extended for another day.”

Beaming, Hyacinth opened her mouth, but Violet cut her off before she could speak. “I am sure we can arrange something soon.”

“A picnic, perhaps!” Hyacinth jumped in, ignoring the wide-eyed look of warning from her mother.

“Oh, a picnic would be lovely,” Kate agreed, barely concealing a smirk as Violet’s mouth dropped open.

Marcus leaned closer to Hyacinth, dropping the volume of his voice to a whisper that was more than audible throughout the room. “I do love a picnic.”

When he grinned at Violet over his shoulder, she was caught between wanting to throw her arms around him and wishing a hole would open up beneath her feet and swallow her alive. If he and her children were already conspiring against her, she was not sure she would stand a chance at winning anything ever again. She stubbornly pursed her lips against a persistent smile and cleared her throat.

“Well then, I suppose we’ll see what can be arranged. As long as the weather cooperates,” she added, if for no other reason than to feel as though she had not lost complete control.

“Oh, goodie!” Hyacinth cheered, clapping her hands together as her curls bounced around her shoulders. Behind her, Benedict silently clapped as well, a teasing smirk directed at his mother. She narrowed her eyes at him, which he returned with a wink. He was bordering on impertinence and if she didn’t love him so much, she thought she could have killed him.

“Until then,” Marcus said, standing up and addressing the room, “I am afraid I must take my leave. Anyone who knows what’s good for them does not make Agatha Danbury wait for her food.”

After a chorus of goodbyes, Violet sat back down on the settee, nestling into the corner. Kate came over from her spot by the window, managing to look as graceful as ever lowering herself onto the settee across from Violet, despite her ever growing belly. At the same time, Benedict wandered off without a word to anyone, leaving Gregory alone at the table. Hyacinth appeared beside her mother, kneeling on the cushion, her large green eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Mama?” she asked, taking hold of Violet’s forearm in both her hands.

“Yes, dearest?” Violet patted her daughter’s hand, the affection in her voice unwavering despite a hint of weariness sneaking in.

“When are we going to have our picnic with Lord Anderson?”

Violet let out a little laugh of surprise. “I do not know. I will arrange it and send him an invitation soon.”

Hyacinth beamed at her, turning to sit properly and leaning into her mother’s side. Violet wrapped her arm around her, pulling her in against her.

“I do hope it is very soon. It will be such fun!”

“You seem to hold a great affection for Lord Anderson,” Kate pointed out.

“Why shouldn’t I? He is kind and funny. He does not treat Gregory and me like small children who should not be allowed to speak. And most importantly, he makes Mama smile in a way I have never seen before.”

Violet’s eyes grew wide, her face suddenly hot again.

“Are you going to marry him, Mama?”

Her eyes, widening even further, flew to Hyacinth, finding herself at a loss for words. After sputtering for a moment, she finally managed to ask, “Why ever would you ask such a question?”

Hyacinth straightened and tilted her head to one side. “Is that not the purpose of courting?”

A flutter of panic began to rise up the back of Violet’s throat. “Who told you we are courting?”

“It is quite obvious, Mama.” She looked at her mother, then over at Kate, then back again, doubt causing her face to fall. “You are courting, are you not?”

“I don’t…” Violet huffed, waving one hand in the air as if it would conjure the words she could not find. “To be quite honest, I do not know,” she finally said, her face twisting with unease.

Hyacinth’s brows knitted together. “It seems like you are courting,” she said.

Violet blinked and tipped her head to one side, acquiescing. “Yes, I… I suppose it does.”

“Do you want to be courted?”

Diverting her eyes again, Violet fidgeted with her skirt and offered a tight-lipped smile, wishing for the second time that the Earth could somehow swallow her whole.

“I, uh… I am, not sure,” a strained laugh escaped her throat. Part of her felt that this was not an appropriate subject for her daughter of just twelve, but she also understood that her decisions would ultimately affect Hyacinth’s life as much as they did her own, so she felt obliged to answer. She just wished she had had a bit more time to sort it out privately first. She cleared her throat and blinked hard before making herself meet her daughter’s eyes.

“I enjoy Lord Anderson’s company very much. You are right; he is kind and humorous, and I greatly appreciate how well he seems to get along with all of you. And even more so, there is a… companionship I feel with him that I have not had since your father died. It has been an unexpected joy to feel that again.” A small, unconscious smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

“And yet you have reservations?” Kate inquired gently.

“Yes.”

“What sort of reservations?” Hyacinth asked.

“Well, dearest,” Violet spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. There were so many layers to her feelings, and not only were they not all appropriate for her young daughter to hear, but she also wanted to avoid becoming too emotional. Hyacinth was rightfully curious, and while Violet wanted to answer her questions, she did not want to burden her with problems that were Violet’s alone to resolve. “The purpose of courting, as you are clearly aware, is to marry. And I had not ever imagined marrying anyone but your father. I am not sure that I want to marry again, even someone with whom I share… affection.” She looked down at her daughter, picking nervously at the lace on the cuff of Hyacinth’s sleeve and took in a deep, slightly shaky breath. “It feels a bit like a betrayal. To him, and to the love that we shared, that I still feel to this day.”

Hyacinth studied her mother’s face, noting the worry lines that appeared between her brows. She wrapped her arm around Violet’s waist and laid her head against her chest, hugging her tightly for a moment while Violet returned the gesture by pulling her in closer. “I do not believe Papa would think it a betrayal,” Hyacinth said, sounding confident.

Curious and a bit surprised, Violet’s eyebrows lifted. “Why not?”

“Because to think so would be selfish. I may not have known Papa, but I know that everyone says the two of you shared a true love. And if you have taught me anything, it is that love is not selfish.”

Violet felt tears prickle behind her eyes and she blinked them back with great effort. How could a child who had never even met Edmund sound so very much like him? With a lump in her throat, she pressed a kiss into her daughter’s hair and whispered, as much to Edmund as to Hyacinth, “You are right about that, my love.”

#violet bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #marcus anderson #bridgerton #queen charlotte #bridgerton fanfiction #queen charlotte fanfiction #bridgerton fic #queen charlotte fic #written by lifesizehysteria #blessings fic #fanfiction

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