#when we talk about the social disaster this is this social disaster that we should talk about more machines equal more people killed for

[mumblingsage]

I also think it's worth being pedantic about important things...and in that spirit I've spent like an hour writing and deleting various responses to this one (I found myself over-policing my tone and stopped that, so I'll just say right off I have no ill-will toward you and appreciate the contributions, even as I disagree on interpretation in several ways):

First, your tags - "for example a book can really kick off a delusion and set something off that can be traumatic." As I've said in another reblog thread, but it deserves repeating, triggering delusions, compulsions, or PTSD or adjustment disorder symptoms is not the same as causing trauma. We should try to accommodate people with triggers, and much of this accommodation will need to be individualized because the range of potential triggers is vast and often does not include things conventionally recognized as upsetting. I had a loved one make an irreversible error because of a delusion he had that was fueled by the due date on his library card being coincidentally the same as the date of his dentist appointment. That's not a reason for us to have a cultural conversation about the format of due date stickers. Though it could call for a discussion of how we can best support people who are experiencing delusional thinking or psychosis (we are currently doing very badly).

Re: vicarious trauma. Reading the Wikipedia article, I see that the examples given are of real life events reported on in the media, primarily social media and news coverage in the wake of terrorist attacks. I'm not going to get too deep into personal experience here, but let's just say this is not my first time hearing of vicarious trauma, and the important thing is that it is a real response to real harm and disaster. I wouldn't refuse evidence, but have not seen any, that it's caused by 13 Reasons Why or The Bridge to Terebithia or Outlander. (Bellingcat has useful advice for safety and 'metal hygiene' when engaging with firsthand sources of violence. I might use similar techniques when watching clips from a horror movie, but the stakes are not the same. Also, heads up that anyone who clicks through that link will read some text about distressing real-life events.)

"Books can have a significant impact on someone’s mind and outlook and that’s why they want them to be banned." < I agree and I think when people talk about how they don't want kids (or others) to read books about death, violence, sex, etc, they are participating in this. Authoritarians want us to have very particular ideas about these topics and resist any alternative information or thinking about them. When people go around saying "Learning or thinking about something upsetting is the same as being traumatized" they are doing the work of Christofascist Censorship Attempts, and I don't care if it's accidental. We don't need to compromise with them. (I don't have room to open this can of worms fully, but I also think too many people go around saying--for example--"13 Reasons Why traumatized me, I can't believe any library would let a kid read it" and thus send a message to the people around them with real-life experience with suicide, suicidal ideation, etc. that their experiences are unspeakable, untouchable. This social stigma is incredibly harmful.)

"I think it’s more productive to challenge the idea that a book that can potentially cause harm should be banned instead of the idea that books can potentially cause harm." < This is an interesting idea. I love its uncompromising stance. It's one I would adopt if I was convinced books can cause something that deserves to be called "harm" (the two of us may just have different definitions). I definitely believe we all have the God-given right to give ourselves nightmares and anyone trying to 'protect' us from that should be kicked in the fork of the legs.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[askcleftirl10]

What was your first date like? (If they are dating as of yet that is lmao! If not, what’s their ideal date like?!)

TIMMY: Dude, WHAT? US?? Dating? That's so crazy. I would never date this guy, with his beautiful eyes and giant smart brain. That would be sooooo insane.

TIMMY: And why would he date ME? Me of all people? When I'm so clearly his type? He must be missing some screws if he were into me! JIMMY: Oh stop! You're so annoying!!!

JIMMY: Yes, we are romantic partners. As for your actual question, it was frankly a giant disaster.

TIMMY: Was so not! I took you on the date of your life! JIMMY: You took me to a fast food place when we were 14. When you tried to hold my hand the gloves on your hoodie were soaked in so much sweat it left a spot on my hand.

TIMMY: Y-yeah?? It was hot out! I was wearing layers! What about how YOU tripped when we were in the parking lot and started bawling your eyes out because you thought you looked lame and I didn't like you anymore? JIMMY: You know full well that when I was prepubescent I was VERY insecure, and I am not ashamed of admitting that at all! In fact, I should talk about it more! The strain of bullying and social stigma on younger generations is something that should be discussed at length and not infantilized!

TIMMY: .... You kissed me nice. On our first date. I liked that. JIMMY: ..Oh-

JIMMY: ..Yes. It was. Nice. It was nice. TIMMY: Yeah? JIMMY: Yes.. But I like your kisses more now.

TIMMY: OH- haha, WELL-

TIMMY: UUuuuuhhh, NexT qUEStIoN?

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

[two-red-lungs]

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

[ofutopia]

Read my tags.

DEATH TO COPYRIGHT FOREVER, DOWNLOAD EVERYTHING, DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITH ART ALWAYS AND FOREVER AMEN

[black-fist-order]

This gentleman was a college professor in political science. He gives some intriguing insights here...

"Friends,

A political disaster such as what occurred Tuesday gains significance not simply by virtue of who won or lost, but through how the election is interpreted.

This is known as The Lesson of the election.

The Lesson explains what happened and why. It deciphers the public’s mood, values, and thoughts. It attributes credit and blame.

And therein lies its power. When The Lesson of the election becomes accepted wisdom — when most of the politicians, pundits, and politicians come to believe it — it shapes the future. It determines how parties, candidates, political operatives, and journalists approach future elections.

There are many reasons for what occurred on Tuesday and for what the outcome should teach America — about where the nation is and about what Democrats should do in the future.

Yet inevitably, one Lesson predominates.

Today, I want to share with you six conventional “lessons” you will hear for Tuesday’s outcome. None is or should be considered The Lesson of the 2024 election.

Then I’ll give you what I consider the real Lesson of the election.

None of these are The Lesson of the 2024 election:

1. "It was a total repudiation of the Democratic Party, a major realignment."

Rubbish. Harris would have won had there been a small, less than 1 percent vote shift in the three main battleground states. The biggest shift from 2020 and 2016 was among Latino men. We don’t know yet whether Latino men will return to the Democrats; if they don’t, they will contribute to a small realignment.

But the fact is America elected Trump in 2016, almost reelected him in 2020, and elected him again in 2024. We haven't changed much, at least in terms of whom we vote for.

2. "If the Dems want to win in the future, they have to move to the right. They should stop talking about 'democracy,' forget 'multiculturalism,' and end their focus on women’s rights, transgender rights, immigrants’ rights, voting rights, civil rights, and America’s shameful history of racism and genocide. Instead, push to strengthen families, cut taxes, allow school choice and prayer in public schools, reduce immigration, minimize our obligations abroad, and put America and Americans first."

Wrong. Democrats shouldn’t move to the right if that means giving up on democracy, social justice, civil rights, and equal voting rights. While Democrats might reconsider their use of “identity” politics (in which people are viewed primarily through the lenses of race, ethnicity, or gender), Democrats must not lose the moral ideals at the heart of the Party and at the core of America.

3. "Republicans won because of misinformation and right-wing propaganda. They won over young men because of a vicious alliance between Trump and a vast network of online influencers and podcasts appealing to them. The answer is for Democrats to cultivate an equivalent media ecosystem that rivals what the right has built."

Partly true. Misinformation and right-wing propaganda did play a role, particularly in reaching young men. But this hardly means progressives and Democrats should fill the information ecosystem with misinformation or left-wing propaganda. Better messaging, yes. Lies and bigotry, no.

We should use our power as consumers to boycott X and all advertisers on X and on Fox News, mount defamation and other lawsuits against platforms that foment hate, and push for regulations (at least at the state level for now) requiring that all platforms achieve minimum standards of moderation and decency.

4. "Republicans cheated. Trump, Putin, and election deniers at county and precinct levels engaged in a vast conspiracy to suppress votes."

I doubt it. Putin tried, but so far there’s no sign that the Kremlin affected any voting process. There is little or no evidence of widespread cheating by Republicans. Dems should not feed further conspiracy theories about fraudulent voting or tallying. For the most part, the system worked smoothly, and we owe a huge debt of gratitude to election workers and state officials in charge of the process.

5. "Harris ran a lousy campaign. She wasn’t a good communicator. She fudged and shifted her positions on issues. She was weighed down by Biden and didn’t sufficiently separate herself from him."

Untrue. Harris ran a good campaign, but she had only a little over three months to do it. She had to introduce herself to the nation (typically a vice president is almost invisible within an administration) at the same time Trump’s antics sucked most of the oxygen out of the political air. She could have been clearer about her proposals and policies and embraced economic populism (see below on the real lesson), but her debate with Trump was the best debate performance I’ve ever witnessed, and her speeches were pitch perfect. Biden may have weighed her down a bit, but his decision to step down was gracious and selfless.

6. "Racism and misogyny. Voters were simply not prepared to elect a Black female president."

Partly true. Surely racism and misogyny played a role, but bigotry can’t offer a full explanation.

--

Here’s the real Lesson of the 2024 election:

On Tuesday, according to exit polls, Americans voted mainly on the economy — and their votes reflected their class and level of education.

While the economy has improved over the last two years according to standard economic measures, most Americans without college degrees — that’s the majority — have not felt it.

In fact, most Americans without college degrees have not felt much economic improvement for four decades, and their jobs have grown less secure. The real median wage of the bottom 90 percent is stuck nearly where it was in the early 1990s, even though the economy is more than twice as large.

Most of the economy’s gains have gone to the top.

This has caused many Americans to feel frustrated and angry. Trump gave voice to that anger. Harris did not.

The real lesson of the 2024 election is that Democrats must not just give voice to the anger but also explain how record inequality has corrupted our system, and pledge to limit the political power of big corporations and the super-rich.

The basic bargain used to be that if you worked hard and played by the rules, you’d do better and your children would do even better than you.

But since 1980, that bargain has become a sham. The middle class has shrunk.

Why? While Republicans steadily cut taxes on the wealthy, Democrats abandoned the working class.

Democrats embraced NAFTA and lowered tariffs on Chinese goods. They deregulated finance and allowed Wall Street to become a high-stakes gambling casino. They let big corporations gain enough market power to keep prices (and profit margins) high.

They let corporations bust unions (with negligible penalties) and slash payrolls. They bailed out Wall Street when its gambling addiction threatened to blow up the entire economy but never bailed out homeowners who lost everything.

They welcomed big money into their campaigns — and delivered quid pro quos that rigged the market in favor of big corporations and the wealthy.

Joe Biden redirected the Democratic Party back toward its working-class roots, but many of the changes he catalyzed — more vigorous antitrust enforcement, stronger enforcement of labor laws, and major investments in manufacturing, infrastructure, semiconductors, and non-fossil fuels — wouldn’t be evident for years, and he could not communicate effectively about them.

The Republican Party says it’s on the side of working people, but its policies will hurt ordinary workers even more. Trump’s tariffs will drive up prices. His expected retreat from vigorous antitrust enforcement will allow giant corporations to drive up prices further.

If Republicans gain control over the House as well as the Senate, as looks likely, they will extend Trump’s 2017 tax law and add additional tax cuts. As in 2017, these lower taxes will benefit mainly the wealthy and enlarge the national debt, which will give Republicans an excuse to cut Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid — their objectives for decades.

Democrats must no longer do the bidding of big corporations and the wealthy. They must instead focus on winning back the working class.

They should demand paid family leave, Medicare for all, free public higher education, stronger unions, higher taxes on great wealth, and housing credits that will generate the biggest boom in residential home construction since World War II.

They should also demand that corporations share their profits with their workers. They should call for limits on CEO pay, eliminate all stock buybacks (as was the SEC rule before 1982), and reject corporate welfare (subsidies and tax credit to particular companies and industries unrelated to the common good).

Democrats need to tell Americans why their pay has been lousy for decades and their jobs less secure: not because of immigrants, liberals, people of color, the “deep state,” or any other Trump Republican bogeyman, but because of the power of large corporations and the rich to rig the market and siphon off most of the economy’s gains.

In doing this, Democrats need not turn their backs on democracy. Democracy goes hand-in-hand with a fair economy. Only by reducing the power of big money in our politics can America grow the middle class, reward hard work, and reaffirm the basic bargain at the heart of our system.

If the Trump Republicans gain control of the House, as seems likely, they will have complete control of the federal government. That means they will own whatever happens to the economy and will be responsible for whatever happens to America. Notwithstanding all their anti-establishment populist rhetoric, they will become the establishment.

The Democratic Party should use this inflection point to shift ground — from being the party of well-off college graduates, big corporations, “never-Tumpers” like Dick Cheney, and vacuous “centrism” — to an anti-establishment party ready to shake up the system on behalf of the vast majority of Americans.

This is and should be The Lesson of the 2024 election.

What do you think...?"

Robert Reich...

[sgiandubh]

What happened with Barbour ?

Dear Barbour Anon,

My favorite kind of Anon, even if I know the question has recently been asked again and not in this corner. Never mind, I think it's time to talk about it, too.

I bought my first Barbour (entry-level, so olive) Bedale wax jacket 25 years ago, from their (long gone, now) shop on Boulevard Raspail, in Paris. It was a mandatory clothing item to own if you wanted to properly mingle with the law school crowd (it still is) and it ended up being one of my most prized possessions, possibly a part of me. I still have it somewhere, back home. Two more followed, along with a fetishist array of shirts, scarves, beanies and even one of those sturdy crossbody bags you can fit half a house in. So you can imagine my absolute thrill when I found out, very very late, that S had had a rather substantial collaboration with them, from 2016 and until 2019.

I am very bad with timelines, as you probably know and possibly even cackle about, but still: S was appointed as the company's first ever Global Brand Ambassador on July 16, 2016. His mission statement was very precisely defined by the brand and for some reason we'll analyze a bit later, this is important:

(Source, heh: https://www.astonbourne.co.uk/is-barbour-a-luxury-brand-unraveling-the-mystique-of-classic-outerwear/).

A shirt and vest signature collection followed in 2017 and 2018, with the contract being renewed. Advertisement was absolutely gorgeous and designed to shape a very positive image, both for S and the brand. Last autumn's SS Gin promo retained some of that irresistible aesthetic DNA and I discussed it at length.

See for yourself, Anon. The fandom endlessly discussed the first long clip (with the chocolate labrador), but I have no idea if these two have been seen, let alone debated. If they did, let that be my nostalgic mistake.

Spring/Summer 2018:

Fall 2018:

And then disaster stroke, with S's trip to Ha-wa-wee 1.0, in the spring of 2019. A short reel, featuring a rather agglomerated boat trip, was posted on socials. Unfortunately for S, it also featured an allegedly horrifying scene involving the 'traditional' bludgeoning to death of a tuna fish. Emotions ensued and as it often happens here, they spun out of control. Many people, including some of the most vocal S haters, tagged Barbour in their diatribes, filled with environmentalist indignation. They suggested this guy (who did not participate to the savagery and I would be even unsure he realized what was going on) was, by no reasonable means, a proper 'embodiment of the brand's identity, values and aspirations' (remember that mission statement?).

Tone deaf as ever in the midst of a serious PR crisis, S put friendship above anything else, and publicly praised the boat's owner, calling him 'the heart and soul of the island', if I remember well. I still would like to think he has no idea what the hell exactly happened. And then, when somebody finally (August 2019) asked Barbour on Insta about their collaboration with S, they got this politely dry, but clear answer:

"We don't have any plans for a collaboration with SH in the near future" means, in my book and to my understanding, "we are never going to work with this guy again". Truly, some people in here who dare to give morality lessons to others, should be proud of themselves: they did it knowingly and in a very organized way, using multiple sock accounts, to give the impression of a collective retching reflex. To cut the story short, the dread of any ad campaign on this planet.

The effort was genuine. The result of that collaboration was very good. Take, for example, this somewhat heartbreaking customer review by an American guy who has no idea who SRH is and who bought one of those jackets from a Barbour factory warehouse, in 2021, with a hefty rebate (70% off). Clearly something Barbour wanted to get rid of at all costs - what a pity and really what a SHAME on all those hypocrites who will never admit to a public assassination by the book:

This time, I am absolutely not sorry for the length, Anon. This is something that still makes me boil. Unfairness and cheap nastiness simply disgust me.

(Thank you, sweetheart, for the screenshot, always. You know who you are 😘😘😘).

[babeydollx]

Oh my gawd!! Can I request smut where Rafe has a rush on the reader and everyone including her knows about it but shes afraid to be with him because of his reputation, she then starts getting very close and flirty with another guy and Rafe scares him off then he they get in an argument and he says go fuck yourself and she responds " I bet you'd like that huh, watching me moan finger myself just for you."

Jealously & Lust

Warnings: cursing, smut, fingering, mentions of sex

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Female Kook Reader

Summary: In which Rafe likes Y/N and everyone in the OBX knows it but, Y/N is afraid to risk everything to be with him so, she pretends to hate him until one night changes that.

Author's Note: I'm finally starting to slowly get on top of my requests! Sorry it's taken so long! Also part of this is seen from Rafe's pov so.

{Y/N's Pov}

Sarah had dragged you to another one of Topper's parties. You didn't mind parties but, it seemed like every other night Sarah was dragging you to another party. Your social battery needed time to charge up again.

But you didn't want to be alone on a Friday night so, you agreed that you would go to Topper's party with Sarah. At first you were just alone and drinking beer out of a red solo cup but, you weren't lonely for long.

"Hey Y/N. You look gorgeius tonight." You herd none other than Rafe Cameron say behind you. "What do you want Cameron?" You said in a annoyed tone as you turned around. you tried your best to avoid his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. Rafe smirked. He knew the things he did to you. The way he made you feel. And you had the exact same effects on him.

"Can you not with that stupid smirk?" You asked annoyed. "Aww, but why, princess? I know you secretly love it." He said as his smirk grew. "Whatever, Cameron." You said as you pushed your now empty red solo cup into Rafe's chest and walked away from him.

{Rafe's Pov}

I had just finished taking a line of coke with Topper and Kelce when I walked out into the kitchen to see Y/N standing there flirting with another man. Why would she be flirting with another man when she had me constantly trying to win her over? How is this man any better than me anyways? My blood boiled as I watched the man pull her closer to himself and kissed her cheek. That should be me.

"Come on, Rafe, just let it go." Topper said to me as he started to pull on my arm, trying to pull me away from the situation. But I couldn't just let it go. I didn't want to do anything crazy but, she made me crazy. "Com on, man. Don't do anything crazy, bro." Kelce said to me as him and Topper both tried to convince me to just let it go. I started walking away with them but, when I turned back and saw Y/N again with that boy, I lost it.

{Y/N'S POV}

You were dancing with the guy that you had met earlier and you were having an amazing time. He was one of the sweetest guys you had met in a long time. It also helped get Rafe off your mind. It's not that you didn't want Rafe Cameron but, you knew that he was not good for you. If you were to go out with him it would end in disaster and probably with your heart getting broken. Then all of the sudden your cute moment was ruined by Rafe coming over and pushing the guy away from you.

"I- Rafe what the fuck are you doing?!" You snapped at him as he looked over at you. "Just come with me." He said as he grabbed your wrist and walked out of the crowd with you. "Are you even going to tell me where we are going?" You asked annoyed as Rafe pulled you upstairs. He went into Topper's room before shutting and locking the bedroom door and turning around to face you. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You asked with a huff. "I- what's wrong with me?! What about you?!" He snapped.

"What the hell are you talking about, Cameron?" You asked. "You dancing and flirting with that asshole." He said with a glare. "Why do you care about who I am dancing with?!" You snapped at him, tired of arguing with him. "I- just because I do!" Was all he could say back. "Y'know what, fuck you, Y/N." He said with a huff. You smirked and walked over to him before getting close to his face. "I bet you'd like that, huh? Watching me finger myself just for you? Moaning your name... only for you to hear." You said with a smirk.

Rafe stood there in shock. He wasn't expecting your guys argument to turn into something sexual but, he wasn't complaining. You just knew by his expression alone that he'd want to see that you you slowly stripped in front of him before getting onto the bed and facing him before spreading your legs for him. He bit his lip when he saw how wet you were for him. You giggled softly before slowly rubbing your clit causing yourself to moan out softly.

You continued to slowly rub your clit before you slid two fingers into your pussy. Rafe bit his lip as he watched you play with yourself. He walked over and went to help you out but you smirked and gently shoved his hand away from you. "Mm.. no you only get to watch, remember, pretty boy?" You said with a smirk. He let out a small whine and that just made you smirk more. "Don't worry baby, you'll get to play with me eventually." You said before moaning out softly as you picked up the pace of your fingers.

As you picked up the pace you looked at Rafe and bit your lip before slowly letting your head fall back, moaning out for him. "Fuck Rafe.." You moaned out softly. Hearing you moan out his name caused him to get even harder if that was even possible. You were always able to turn him on, even when you weren't doing anything sexy. Everything about you was a turn on to him. As you fingered yourself, you let your other hand to come down and start rubbing your clit which caused you to moan more. You looked back up at Rafe and smirked when you saw the tent in his pants.

"Someone's enjoying the show I see." You said with a smirk before a moan slipped out of your mouth. You felt that familiar knot tightening in your stomach and you knew that you were going to cum. Your head fell back again as you moaned out. "I- fuck.. I'm gonna cum, baby." You said as you slowly became a moaning mess as your orgasm was approaching. Then Rafe grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. "Keep your eyes on me, I want to be able to see you when you cum." He said with a smirk.

You locked eyes with him as he asked before you were pushed over the edge. Your legs began to tremble as you gushed all over your fingers. He let a groan out and bit his lip as he watched you cum. "Fuck, you're so pretty, baby." He said as his gaze finally left yours and his eyes trailed down to look at your body and the mess you made on the bed. He smirked more as he slid two fingers through your folds, bringing them up to his lips and sucking his fingers clean. "You taste as good as you look, princess." He said with a smirk.

He then got onto the bed and spread your legs wide before he began to unbuckle his belt. "I'm going to fuck until you aren't able to walk." He said with a smirk. "I wanna hear the sweet noises you make all night and watch you cum over and over again." He said, making you bite your lip. It was going to be a long night but, you looked forward to that.

Author's Note: tysm for reading lovlies! <3

[ghastme]

Can we just talk about how caring Izuku is?

When Bakugo explained his behaviour in the apology he said he pushed Izuku away because he felt like Izuku was stronger than him. We all know he means emotionally (since physically it'd be impossible) but I'd like to go back on that emotional part.

We know he has been bullying him since they are 4 (insane btw) till they were 14 (still insane btw). So for 10 years he has been pushing Izuku away from himself. Pushing, shoving, insulting, beating him up and destroying his posessions.

...

For 10 years he has been doing all that to keep Izuku away from him. And yet Izuku only ever backed down socially. He knew talking to him would end in disaster but he never let go of him. Not his nickname for him, not his fond memories of their time together. He held on, latched onto that single shred of hope since they were friends when they still ate sand out of the sandbox. He is still hopeful that someday they may have a normal conversation again. But while being hopeful he does not look past Katsukis behavior. He calles him a 'jerk' an 'idiot' and resent the way Katsuki acts towards him. But he is still hopeful. He still tries to better him.

And the thing is Katsuki is not the only one he does is for.

Any villan that has shown even the teensy-tiniest bit of edgy background story, Izuku does it for.

Mr. Gentle and La Brava, Lady Nagant, Shigaraki, and I bet on every last cent in my bank account, others villains too. (I just don't remember any others right now)

He cares for their morals, he cares for their inner child, their inner fight with trauma and other factors. But heavens does he not excuse their crimes. He will fight till death if that means they will see that they are in the wrong of how they act now and that they should find another, a kinder, more respectful way of expressing their passion.

He will NEVER disregard a person for their dreams and wishes. No matter the circumstances. Though he will try his best to help them achive it.

'You always treat others how you want to be treated.'

And I could cry.

[vidavalor]

Muriel and My Fair Lady

We've been talking a bit about The Maltese Falcon and North by Northwest and other film homages in the series and how what a bunch of them have in common is unique use of language-- verbal and visual-- to tell their story. There's another musical/film that I think S2 is referencing a bit that is all about language and that is My Fair Lady.

The romance in My Fair Lady is terrible-- I hope we all can agree on that in our modern era lol-- but that's not really the main aspect of the story that is being referenced in GO, I don't think. My Fair Lady is full of language jokes, including the titles of two of the songs-- "A Hymm to Him", which plays with homophony, and "The Ascot Gavotte", which is about the horse race setting of that part of the story-- The Ascots-- but is, additionally, a joke on the fact that an ascot is also a term for one kind of a secret language. It's also the only real gavotte in a famous musical and we know that's Aziraphale's favorite kind of dance. Much of the story of the film also leads towards a ball at an embassy-- though one that goes a bit better than S2's disaster of a party.

In S2, Crowley and Aziraphale are kind of a more likable version of Higgins and Pickering as Muriel becomes a bit of an Eliza Doolittle. I think the "cupperty" scene is something of a nod to the scene in which Higgins tries to get Eliza to pronounce "cup of tea" differently in My Fair Lady.

Additionally, later in the season, Muriel wants to try breakfast and gets rebuffed, which is kind of like how Higgins and Pickering don't think to give Eliza some of their afternoon tea. Eliza ends up looking at the tea, which is actually Muriel's preference when they first arrive in S2.

My Fair Lady is about a phonetics professor who places a bet with his friend as to whether or not he can change the speech patterns of a Cockney-accented woman enough to pass her off as a duchess at an embassy ball. It's overflowing with linguistics jokes. Eliza agrees to try to undergo this change because she has her own aspiration-- she wants to work in a flower shop.

At the start of the film, she is homeless and selling flowers on the street. She lacks the social refinement necessary to be hired as a shopkeeper-- kind of like how Muriel is on the outside looking in on the Whickber Street shops in S2. Being able to work in a flower shop would give her a new lease on life and when Muriel is in the street on the night of The Meeting Ball, look at the flower market lit up behind them when a kinder and far more likable version of Professor Higgins-- the wordplay-happy Crowley-- approaches:

Unlike Eliza, who wished to sell flowers, Muriel loves books and, at the end of S2, Muriel is the one who winds up running the bookshop... which is a far better ending than Eliza Doolittle gets in My Fair Lady, if you ask me. (She should have gotten a job and married Freddy, dammit. Bonus points to Good Omens as well for recognizing that the real ship in My Fair Lady is Higgins & Pickering.)

Poor Crowley's also kind of a version of Freddy in S2, just with the romance not being with Muriel but the Muriel-paralleling Aziraphale. Madly in love and thrown over at the end for a grumpy old man-- despite being a total dish, a total gentleman, and having the best song in the film. (Not really in the long run but, ya know, kinda lol.) There's even a version of Freddy's gorgeous song by Crowley's favorite, Nat King Cole.

Can you hear a lark in any other part of town? Does enchantment pour out of every door? No, it's just on the street where you live...

[aphroditeslover11]

for oppie maybe he meets a foreign student when he is studying abroad like in the beginning of the movie in germany? he is so stressed then he could have used a friend… loved your exam piece so i thought maybe you would like an idea like this ❤️

An Unexpected Friend

Hi there, I hope that this is something along the lines of what you meant. My first ask, so I’m using that as an excuse if it’s crap! I ended up writing a little more of myself into this than I meant to. 🤣

I should probably warn that Oppie ends up having a bit of an existential crisis incase that bothers anybody. But yeah, please read and enjoy, any feedback or further requests are much appreciated.

Robert Oppenheimer was thoroughly fed up. He was twenty two and in the middle of a real dip in his life. The last year that he had spent studying at Cambridge had been nothing short of a disaster. He was starting to doubt himself intellectually for the first time, he felt as if he was losing his identity. Though he would be hard pushed to admit it, he also felt as if he had nowhere to turn, his friends all seemed to be meeting women, some making the more permanent choice of settling down into early domesticity, leaving him feeling completely alone in the world. This was where his decision to pack his bags and move to Germany had come from, to try and reinvigorate his love of physics if nothing else.

He was on an overnight train, headed to Gottingen for the place at the university that he was taking up. He was dosing in and out of sleep, waking up for the third time since he had finished the sandwiches that he had bought before he left the station. The lights of the carriage were slightly dingy, yet he reached for the book that he had been reading earlier that evening, a newly published physics paper, hoping to get a bit more reading done before he arrived.

After about half an hour of reading he was fully awake again, concentration completely engaged, only to be pulled out of it by a knock on the door of his compartment. He opened the door to find a girl, about the same age as him, carrying a suitcase and with a reticent look on her face.

“I’m really sorry to bother you Sir, I got onto the train at the last station but I can’t find any seats, all the other compartments are dark and I didn’t want to disturb people if they were sleeping.” Robert ran a hand through his hair in contemplation, then moving away from the door to let you in.

“It’s alright, I’m on my own. We can share it for the night. I’ll warn you that I’m planning on staying awake for the rest of the journey though, so the light will be on.”

“That’s not an issue, I’m probably going to read anyway. I’ve always been a dreadful sleeper. Thankyou, Mr?”

“Oppenheimer, Robert. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

~

You had both started the evening with your noses buried in books, trying to be quiet and not disturb each other. Robert had uncharacteristically broken the silence when he realised what you were reading a volume of Plato. You started a discussion between you about how philosophy and physics could be compatible with one another, learning that you were both heading to the same university to study your respective subjects. When you got off the train you agreed to meet up soon.

Over the first few weeks of your time at the university you saw each other a lot. Neither of you were hugely social, of course making some friends through your courses, but you certainly considered Oppie as your closest. You met up most evenings, sometimes going out to eat at a local café, but most often just reading and working on assignments or papers in silence. It was always nice to know that you could talk if you wanted to though.

It was on one of these evenings that Robert started an unexpected conversation.

“Y/N, I was wondering if I could ask you about something. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but it’s just been bugging me recently.”

“I’m all ears Robert, go ahead.”

“Do you ever just walk into a room and feel like everybody in it hates you. That you open your mouth and everybody just thinks ‘what the hell is this idiot going to start on about now’.” He was saying everything very matter of factly, though it was clear that opening up to someone wasn’t easy on him. You paused briefly, trying to decide how to respond.

“People that you know, or just everyone?”

“Everyone. Although it’s easier when it’s just new people, you can just put up a facade for a bit, you know. Convince them that you aren’t as bad as you really are.”

“I guess I kind of know what you mean, I ended up with a bit of a complex because my mum used to ask me not to talk about my interests. She used to say she didn’t want to know because she didn’t understand, I don’t think she could handle the fact that I knew more than her. It kind of gets better though when you make some decent friends… the complex I mean. What’s so bad about you anyway Robert?”

“All I’ve ever done is academics, I don’t have a personality outside of that. I hate making friends and nobody ever understands me. I went to Cambridge and got stuck doing lab work, I was hopeless, just couldn’t do it.” His fragile facade was starting to drop now, you could hear it in his voice. “I couldn’t even manage the one thing that I’m meant to be good at. Without my science who the hell even am I?” He was trying to hide it, but you had noticed the few small tears that had fallen from his cyanic eyes.

You moved from your seat to be beside him on the sofa where he was sitting himself, wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulders. Given how reserved he usually was, the picture of perfect manners and politeness, it caught you off guard when he wrapped both of his arms around you, burying his head in your shoulder. It was rare to see him so vulnerable, it was the same of any man really, but it was strangely gratifying that he trusted you enough to be around him like this.

“You are J Robert Oppenheimer. You are you Robert, and that is enough to ask of anyone.” You spoke firmly. “I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I certainly don’t hate you. In fact, I think you’re the best friend that I’ve had in a very long time, and I’ve had my share of identity crises as well.” He pulled back from your hold then, sitting up straight.

“Is this feeling ever going to go away though? I can’t bear it, I just can’t.”

“It will, it will take time but you will get past this. Both of us are learning who we really are, and when we do we’ll be all the better for it.

“Would you mind if I hold you, just for a bit? I just need to know that somebody’s here, with me.”

“Of course I don’t mind. In truth, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to feel this comfortable with someone.” With that, he put a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you securely into his side.

“Robert, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

[lightofraye]

The Greatest Loss

I need to put a warning here, right now, for anyone that wants to read this. This isn't me being "woke" or "politically correct"; it's me being respectful that not everyone wants to read this kind of story. It's highly personal, and highly emotional.

It details loss. It details a lost pregnancy. Explanation of medical procedures. Biological mentions. Not everyone wants to read that and I am highly aware of it.

So consider this your first and only warning. If you are able to handle this, if you are able and willing, then by all means, read ahead.

But if not, I will not be upset. I understand not everyone wants to read about people's grief, of their loss.

For me... it's been 14 years of dealing with this grief, this pain, this loss. I will never get over it. My life has grown around this grief, has made room for it.

In such stories, there are lessons. Points we should all learn.

Because of length, because of details, I am using a cut.

October 6th is always a hard, painful day for me.

And yet, the events that led up to it began on the 5th, when I saw my social worker/therapist for our weekly meeting. She became very concerned at my state of mind, when I admitted my suicidal ideations were becoming worse, not better, despite the Zoloft and counseling and everything I was doing to stabilize my mind.

She decided that I should be hospitalized, but hesitant as to where I should go. Psych hospitals weren't really set up for pregnant women, especially one so close to the due date (I was due around the 15th or so). Regular hospitals weren't really set up for patients who had suicidal ideations. In the end, my social worker called my midwife and discussed it with her. In the end, they decided I would go to a regular hospital and be seen by a psychologist there.

Transportation became a bitch. My ex was at work at the time (the few times he had a job, I believe) and I was using my medical insurance's transportation. However, last minute scheduling was not their forte. I waited hours... and transportation never showed. In the end, my mother-in-law came and got me.

We went to the hospital and waited in the ER. I spoke to her about what was troubling me. For the last several months, my marriage was hell. The ex dropped the bomb on me: he wanted a divorce... and I was like 5 months pregnant at the time. It came out of the blue.

Then I found out my ex was cheating on me with his ex-girlfriend who, when I snooped on his laptop, basically admitted she didn't care about "that thing in her belly". The ex also tried to throw me out of the house. It was one of the few times MIL came to my defense. Since she'd been paying rent, she made it clear that I wasn't leaving the apartment.

So yeah... my mental state wasn't great. My health during the pregnancy wasn't either. I had been in and out of the hospital since the baby had been conceived, really. Severe morning sickness--hyperemesis gravidarum--was extremely taxing. I had no energy, literally. I lost weight, that's how bad it was. The slightest thing made me throw up. I had the slightest hint of vaginal bleeding for months, but the midwife dismissed it, saying it was normal. (It wasn't, in the end.) My anemia got so bad, I had to have iron infusions.

The ex didn't believe me when I said it was this bad. (My MIL didn't believe me either, and so the ex believed her over what he saw in front of him. It was a disaster, I swear.) So... he took it personally, and decided to cheat on me. Yeah, I know.... ridiculous.

Anyway....

The pregnancy took its toll on me. Mentally, physically, emotionally. The suicidal ideations, in the end, weren't active. It was passive. The whole "Let a car hit me, let me end up being hospitalized for months with someone else taking care of me for a while." Not "I have a plan to slit my wrist." sort of thing. (Yes, there is a difference.)

However, the whole talking to my MIL that night of the 5th of October, 2010, helped. I cried, we talked, I got it out. I purged, My social worker was awful. I didn't connect with her. I felt.... judged. I couldn't get comfortable with her to purge what was in me. But that night I did. I got stable. When the psychologist in the ER finally came to see me... he asked if I could be trusted to go home. I said "Yes."

This is where I felt... I wished I didn't. I should've stayed. They would've connected me to a baby monitor and they could've seen the fetal distress. They could've seen something was wrong and saved the baby. They would've.... he would've been saved. But I said I was fine.

I felt fine.

But....

But I was fine. I said I was okay. So they discharged me. It was like... 10pm or so. I was starving. I hadn't eaten since lunch, if memory serves. My MIL offered a late dinner. Stopped to pick up the ex from home and went to this very nice little place nearby. I had a very hearty meal and for once there was no marital stress.

We ate well, then went home. I was exhausted. Normally, after eating so much, I'd have to wait a while so I don't throw up from laying down. Pregnancy and all. But I was so tired I just collapsed. The ex opted to stay up, the jerk, and watch TV. I was so tired though, I didn't care. Just crashed.

Now... for those who have been pregnant before, I'm sure you can empathize with this. Toward the end of pregnancy, there's frequent wake ups with a bladder feeling full and crushed. I, before this night, had woken up frequently and felt like I had to go often--even if it was just a teeny-tiny trinkle.

This night, however...

This night, I didn't wake up for several hours.

When I finally did wake up, I was startled. I felt like my bladder was going to burst. When I saw on a clock nearby how late it was, I was stunned. It had been at least four hours. When I shifted and moved, I felt a trinkle and thought "Oh gods, please don't pee in your underwear!" I waddled as quick as I could to the bathroom, my sleep-fogged brain not catching onto the "wrongness" that hadn't dawned.

When I sat down, I saw it. The sleep-fog banished instantly. There, on my clean white underwear, was the shock of bright red blood. I gasped, and knew. Just knew.

It wasn't my water breaking.

My baby was gone. I just knew he was.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I began to sob. I cleaned myself, saw the blood, felt it trickle away, and sobbed some more. My ex, still awake, stopped by the open bathroom door and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding!"

He ran back to the bedroom, grabbed his cellphone and called the midwife for the on-call. She happened to have been the one to be the on-call emergency. I told her what happened. She was certain it was my water breaking. I insisted it wasn't. She advised us to call an ambulance and head to the hospital.

The ex did that and got me a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of sweat pants. (I really don't wear much for pajamas--often a loose cami tank and underwear.)

The ambulance was just down the road. They arrived immediately. I put in an hygiene pad in my underwear to catch further blood and was placed in a gurney. My MIL was called and told to meet us at the hospital. My blood pressure was checked and was normal. I had no pain.

Since I had woken, I felt no pain.

We arrived at the ER and was sent to the labor and delivery floor. There, they took me to a room. My midwife met us there and she had a nurse try to use a doppler to find a heartbeat. No go. She tried to find it with a stethoscope. No go. Lastly, an ultrasound. No go.

Very calmly, gently, the midwife took my hand in hers and met my eyes with hers. "Raye, I'm very sorry. We can't find the baby's heartbeat. He's gone."

I broke. In that instant, I broke.

Letting me weep, she went to tell my ex and MIL. I heard the MIL weep. The ex came over to me a moment later and together, we held one another and cried. They gave us a few minutes to cry before informing us of the next step.

Ideally, the next step would be to induce. So that was the plan. They would give me pitocin to begin, and a cervical balloon to force my cervix to open up. However, when they insert that, a gush of blood came out. That worried my midwife immensely.

(Before I continue, I should add that my midwife was a certified midwife, supervised by a licensed ob-gyn. She worked out of a hospital. He too was there that day.)

Worried, she called the ob-gyn and spoke to him in a low voice. I overheard the words "blood" and him asking "Are you sure?" That's when I saw her lift the sheet from the ground to catch all the blood. It was soaked.

That's when he took over. I was to be given an emergency c-section. I was bleeding too much and they weren't sure why. Since they didn't want me to die while doing the induction, they were going to do the c-section and find what's causing the bleeding and stop it. He was going to do everything he could to preserve my uterus and ability to have more babies.

Then I was rushed to the operating room, given an epidural, and the procedure began. This is where it blurs in my memory, the epidural and exhaustion and grief graying out my mind.

Later, I was wheeled into a private room on the floor. I was granted a chance to see my lost baby. I was granted the right to have him with me the whole weekend. I held him, wept over his body, slept with him beside me. Beside my room number, there was a leaf with a water drop, a symbol to all who visited that this was a parent who lost a baby and to be respectful.

The ob-gyn told me once I was allowed to stay as long as I needed until I was ready to leave and face the world again. I had photographs of the baby taken. His footprints on a certificate. He was cremated. A memorial was held.

On the first year of his passing, my ex and I adopted a pair of kittens to help us grieve. We needed something living, babies, to help us. One of them is still alive. (Unfortunately, one of them passed while I was pregnant with my son; we're still not sure what happened to her. But her brother is still alive.)

It's been fourteen years now and I'm still shattered. One in four pregnancies result in a loss. Be a miscarriage, a stillbirth, or SIDs. We have pro-lifers/anti-choicers/forced-birthers worried over abortion instead of the losses of wanted babies... when medical science can't understand why this happens. It's frustrating as hell.

As near as any ob-gyn can tell, mine was over an undetected placenta abruption. I say "undetected" because my blood pressure was normal. There was no pain. None of the signs of a "usual" placenta abruption. Something that would've triggered a rush to the hospital. All except one, one that the midwife ignored: the spotting.

My son is my Rainbow Baby. A term intended for a surviving birth after a loss. Having him helped ease the loss somewhat.... but I will forever mourn the loss of my first.

I should've had two sons driving me crazy, day in day out.

[mariacallous]

The term “climate haven” never made much sense. After Hurricane Helene dumped 2 feet of rain on western North Carolina, many major media outlets marveled at how Asheville, which had been celebrated as a climate haven, had been devastated by a climate-related disaster.

Some in the media later reported accurately that climate havens don’t actually exist. But that still raises the question: Where did this climate haven concept even come from?

Well before humans began putting billions of tons of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, entire populations would migrate toward better conditions in search of a place with milder weather or more fertile soil or the absence of drought.

Because of its speed and scale, however, human-caused climate change is especially extreme, and everywhere will be impacted by some degree of risk. There is no completely safe haven.

Which is part of how we ended up talking about the idea of climate havens. It’s wishful thinking. At least that’s what several experts told me after Helene laid a path of destruction across the Southeast and as Hurricane Milton barreled toward Florida. As the impacts of climate change became more real and apparent, the media as well as local leaders started looking for a better story to tell.

“People are desperate for optimism,” said Jesse Keenan, director of the Center on Climate Change and Urbanism at Tulane University, who described the concept of climate havens as a fiction. “It gives people hope.”

Keenan actually blames himself for helping to popularize the term. For a concept that feels so widespread now, it’s surprisingly hard to find much mention of climate havens in the media before 2018. That was when The Guardian quoted Keenan in a piece about where you should move to save yourself from climate change that used the phrase “safe havens.” Buffalo, New York, and Duluth, Minnesota, were Keenan’s suggestions.

The concept gained more traction a few months later, when Mayor Byron W. Brown referred to Buffalo as a “climate refuge” in his 2019 state of the city address, followed by outlets like Bloomberg and Quartz referring to Buffalo as a climate haven. The New York Times did a whole spread on “climate-proof Duluth,” a slogan Keenan wrote as part of an economic development package commissioned by the city. He told me it was just a joke that got pulled out of context.

It’s hard to know how responsible one professor with a knack for marketing was for the mainstreaming of the climate haven concept. But it’s easy to see why local governments would latch onto it.

The Census Bureau estimates that as climate change warms the planet over the next several decades, 100 million will migrate into and around the US. Increased flood risk may have already pushed several million people out of coastal and low-lying areas across the US, as wildfires start to raise questions about migration in the West.

Inland cities, namely those along the Rust Belt that have been losing population for years, see an opportunity to pull those people in.

“The idea of a climate refuge itself is kind of an escapist fantasy,” said Billy Fleming, director of the McHarg Center at the University of Pennsylvania. “To the extent that a climate refuge even exists, it’s not a particularly physical or geophysical phenomenon. It’s social and economic.”

Fleming added that, for these would-be climate havens, attracting new residents is a means to pull in more tax revenue and create wealth for the community. “It’s about keeping the real estate machine churning,” he added, “which is the thing that pays for everything else in the city.”

The real estate industry has taken notice. Quite coincidentally, as Hurricane Helene was bearing down on the Southeast last week, Zillow announced a new feature that displays climate risk scores on listing pages alongside interactive maps and insurance requirements. Now, you can look up an address and see, on a scale of 1 to 10, the risk of flooding, extreme temperatures, and wildfires for that property, based on data provided by the climate risk modeling firm First Street. Redfin, a Zillow competitor, launched its own climate risk index using First Street data earlier this year.

The new climate risk scores on Zillow and Redfin can’t tell you with any certainty whether you’ll be affected by a natural disaster if you move into any given house. But this is a tool that can help guide decisions about how you might want to insure your property and think about its long-term value.

It’s almost fitting that Zillow and Redfin, platforms designed to help people find the perfect home, are doing the work to show that climate risk is not binary. There are no homes completely free of risk for the same reasons that there’s no such thing as a perfect climate haven.

Climate risk is a complicated equation that complicates the already difficult and complex calculus of buying a home. Better access to data about risk can help, and a bit more transparency about the insurance aspect of homeownership is especially useful, as the industry struggles to adapt to our warming world and the disasters that come with it.

“As we start to see insurance costs increase, all that starts to impact that affordability question,” Skylar Olsen, Zillow’s chief economist, told me. “It’ll help the housing market move towards a much healthier place, where buyers and sellers understand these risks and then have options to meet them.”

That said, knowledge of risk isn’t keeping people from moving to disaster-prone parts of the country right now. People move to new parts of the country for countless different reasons, including the area’s natural beauty, job prospects, and affordable housing. Those are a few of the reasons why high-risk counties across the country are growing faster than low-risk counties, even in the face of future climate catastrophes, which are both unpredictable and inevitable. It’s almost unfathomable to know how to prepare ourselves properly for the worst-case scenario.

“The scale of these events that we’re seeing are so beyond what humans have ever seen,” said Vivek Shandas, an urban planning professor at Portland State University. “No matter what we think might be a manageable level of preparedness and infrastructure, we’re still going to see cracks, and we’re still going to see breakages.”

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t build sea walls or find new ways to fight wildfires. In a sense, we have the opportunity to create our own climate havens by making cities more resilient to the risks they face. We can be optimistic about that future.

[alwaysonf1]

who are you?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: Language; Thoughts of violence

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

Dizzy is an understatement for how Iman feels as she recovers from Ben shaking her in excitement. Though the race started rocky, and everyone thought that Logan was going to have to retire, he managed P7 despite the way the car failed him. But the biggest victory is that Alex made it to P3. The race lacked any sort of excitement, though there was a light buzz in the Williams garage because the boys were working hard with the hand they were given. Then in the last twenty laps things got spicy. Before anyone knew it Alex was battling Lando for fourth and in a twist of fate ended up in third.

Iman is so excited she could throw up. Her stomach churns with every shout and her body is vibrating with joy. 

It takes a few minutes, but everyone who isn’t needed for things like the car weigh in are given the all clear to rush out and congratulate Alex. She lets everyone else go in front of her, not wanting to be in the first wave since it’s likely to overwhelm her and Alex. But she still finds herself racing behind them so she can see the initial joy of it all.

“Iman!”

The voice stops her in her tracks, and she turns to see James beaming. The man is the picture of cool, calm, and collected at all times that it’s a bit odd to see such a display of emotion on his face. But she doesn’t linger on that, he waves her over and she walks back a little sad to not be with the screaming crowd that she can hear from where she is.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“You’re going to the podium.”

She raises a brow. “But we didn’t win.”

“Yes. You aren’t going up there, but when we confirmed that Alex was secure as P3 he said he wanted you there.”

A million questions fill her head. Being near the podium wasn’t something weird to do, teams always sent people to be there to celebrate with their driver. But it was odd that she was being asked to go so explicitly, as if she would be going up there like whoever Mercedes sent to be there for Lewis since he’s P1.

It wasn’t that deep though, so she just shrugged and nodded.

“Will do.”

“Good. You should get there before everyone else crowds over.”

He was right. It was a disaster getting over there when everyone else wanted to be up front and center. So, Iman gave him a thumbs up and hustled in that direction.

The universe is on her side, because she makes it to where the podium is happening just as a big wave of the crowd is coming in. She moves to where she sees employees of other teams and is thankful there seems to be a good amount of space where she knows she won’t have a lot of people in her bubble.

“Iman!” 

Her head whips in the direction of the voice to see one of the new social media admins, Annalise, near the steps to the podium. The woman waves her over and despite being unsure Iman redirects and jumps through all the weird hoops it takes to get to her.

“Hey.”

“Hey! I don’t know why you were over there. Alex wants you here before. He’ll be over soon and wanted to see you before he went on.”

“Oh. Why?”

Annalise shrugs. “I don’t know. He just made sure to remind me when I was headed here. Lewis and Charles were near and made it clear I needed to make sure you were there too.”

A sinking feeling fills Iman. She’s still very unsure about what the hell is going on, but it honestly sounds like all three of those men are up to no good. If it was only one of them, she wouldn’t have thought too much about it, but them combined is not ideal for her. For a second it makes her a little thankful that Logan isn’t on the podium because adding him in place of Charles or Alex would be worse. 

How she was cursed with being surrounded by a bunch of childish men who enjoyed to fuck with her she was unsure, but even she isn’t delusional enough to act like she would want it any other way.

She spends a few minutes talking with Annalise before the people of the hour start filing in. Alex is first and makes a beeline for her. He pulls her into his arms and squeezes as he lifts her from the ground. Iman squeaks in surprise, but she allows it. She would hug him back, but he has her arms pinned. 

It takes a minute before he puts her down and pulls away. His smile is bright and beaming in a way that makes her match his energy.

“I don’t know what you did, but that is the best that car has felt in a while.”

“It was a team effort. But I told you those new upgrades would do you well. And to think you were so worried.”

“Don’t pretend that you didn’t fight for this. You made sure it wasn’t pushed back and that the day on Logan getting them was only a week later than me. It’s what we need.”

All the praise is making Iman’s cheeks burn and she has to fight to not say something sassy to divert attention. 

“If I must use my job security to ensure y’all do well then, I will. You know this. Now get up there.”

Alex moves to the side and then she hugs Lewis and Charles. They both give her a tight hug, though not nearly as intense as Alex’s. Something she appreciates because it hurts a little bit, even if not bothersome.

“Congratulations, boys. And thank you Sharl for not taking out my driver again.”

Lewis throws his head back in laughter and Charles rolls his eyes, but his dimple producing smile doesn’t leave his face. Both give their thanks and then they are all signaled to head up. 

They all go through the motions. The anthems play and hype is built up. Then they each have a moment with their trophies. Before they know it, the sparkling wine is in hand and being sprayed everywhere. They get each other, the Mercedes rep, and then they turn to Iman as if coordinated. All four move toward her and she tries to back away, but a hand on her back keeps her in place and she sees Annalise snapping pictures while Logan keeps holds her still.

One of her greatest fears - them teaming up - is coming true and then she feels the first spray. In seconds the upper half of her body is soaked in the sparkling wine, and she tries to shield her face, knowing saving her hair is a lost cause. If she didn’t plan to wash it later, she would be pissed.

Shrieks and laughter escape her. Iman fights against Logan’s hold and is failing, but with a slight loss of balance and push back she evades him and he’s now in the path of the last few spritz.

That makes her laugh even harder because he pouts and voices his betrayal because even though they see they have an unintended target they don’t stop.

Iman takes several steps back to safety even though she knows they don’t have anything else to get her with. The rest of the ceremony goes off without her being “in danger” and then as they’re about to walk off the stage she walks toward the route they’re going to take. She wants out of her clothes and to get the residue off her face, but she wants to yell at and hit them more. So, she continues her walk until she reaches the hallway right before the media bay where more interviews are happening.

All of this was overwhelming to her from the perspective of someone who was rarely interviewed, so she never can fully understand how the drivers feel. Especially when it’s like an endless cycle of moving here or there and being “on” for a couple hours after a race that pushes your body to the limits. She commended them for being able to do this after every race, even when they got a result they didn’t love.

The hall was thankfully empty, and she knew it would be for at least a moment more, so Iman stops and leans against the wall. Her eyes flutter close, and she takes a deep breath. 

The excitement isn’t the only thing on her mind. It’s not even the main thing. Instead, she’s running through a mental checklist of everything she needs to do before she leaves for the day. There’s a break and then one more race before summer break comes. Which means that the way they’ll manage checks, meetings, and overall work will be a little different. They’ll have more time and this time they’re planning to front load the work so that they have a cushion to test and adjust. That means when they fly back, she will be so immersed in work that the odds of her being home a lot is low.

Soft curses leave her lips as her eyes flutter open, but she feels like she has a handle on everything.

Iman is so in her own head that it takes a second before she notices the man standing in front of her. He’s not all up in her space, but he is much too close for comfort.

Not wanting to react with the rude ‘can I help you’ that’s on the tip of her tongue she assesses him. Her eyes scan him head to toe and see that his only “weapon” would be the phone clutched in his hand and the bag on his back. In her assessment she sees the press badge with his name on it. It also mentions who he’s with and she notices it as an up and coming source for motorsport content that started as a podcast.

A podcast that she thought was dumb and undeserving of its hype and access.

Her eyes lift and she meets his gaze, which she doesn’t like. Clearly, he was taking in her as much as she was taking in him, but the purpose of both their actions were very different. His vibes aren't a siren going off creepy, but the subtle kind that would be a low level yellow flag if she was into him.

“Hi,” she says.

For too many seconds he says nothing and then he smirks, raising his phone toward her.

“Hi. Iman Hamilton, right?”

She knows he knows who she is and that he knows that she knows. Which makes the encounter a little ickier than it was before.

“Yes. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’ve been wanting the chance to speak with you. Get an interview or get you on the pod. You’ve done a few interviews, but we wanted the chance to talk to you about your upbringing and everything that got you here.”

Iman notices that he doesn’t introduce himself and that he speaks of his podcast in a way that implies she would know what it is. Of course, she’s seen the name on the badge he wears, but it feels more like he thinks that he and his little friend group are such hot shit that everyone knows them. Most do know them, but despite how many opportunities they’ve been given to be up close and personal with the behind the scenes stuff it’s not because they’re seen as this great new motorsport content hub. Mostly the opposite. But hey, white men who refuse to actually learn anything about what they speak of despite wanting to be taken seriously do tend to fail upwards.

Another thing she notes is the way he phrases what they would want to talk to her about. At some point she would call it paranoia, but since her grand reveal to the world she’s been in enough situations to know that the between the lines is talking about Lewis, talk about being a nepo baby, and poke holes in her ability. The first two were no skin off her back, but she didn’t have it in her to deal with people who she knew would try to make it seem like she was handed two degrees and her job with no work done on her part.

“Oh. Sounds like a good time. It would be a bit hard since things are getting busy this time of the season.”

A dip in his expression, but he recovers quick.

“I get it. Definitely an uptick in work for us guys. So much traveling and all the recording we need to get done.”

Iman was not one to compare jobs because they were all tiresome in their own ways, but it was hard not to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, so…”

“But I have a quick question while I have you. Hope you don’t mind,” he pauses just long enough to unlock his screen and start his voice recorder app. “You’ve had the interest of everyone since your debut in what has led to a new kind of F1 content. Everyone is wondering about you at every step of your career and the question becomes how do you deal with all of it? A mother who is at the top of her field and a dad who helped mold a man like Lewis Hamilton. I mean there has to be a lot of pressure when they push you into this field and use their connections within to make sure you succeed.”

Slapping the shit out of this man will cause problems. Slapping the shit out of this man will lead to a report being filed. Slapping this man might lead to assault charges. Slapping this man will give him fodder of what to talk about as a “first-hand experience to the privileged little life of Iman Hamilton who doesn’t have to work and just gets things handed to her.”

“What did you just say?” Lewis says.

Iman didn’t realize that people were coming down the hall because she was so focused on repeating those words in her head when she felt her hand lift slightly. But as she turns to look at her brother, Alex, Charles, and staff members of both teams she’s grateful to see them.

“Oh, I was just…”

“He asked you to repeat yourself, not give excuses,” Charles says, his voice oddly calm and his accent stronger than usual.

“I wanted to get a quote about…”

“Something to imply she can’t do her job. That my mechanic is somehow only here on connections and not ability.” Alex quirks a brow.

Though there was a shift in demeanor when he saw everyone, Chad - his actual name - finally starts to realize the gravity of the situation. Iman would never think he didn’t expect some push back from her when asking the question, but he could spin that. What he couldn’t spin was three drivers and the people they work with calling him out for a question he asked in bad faith.

“I… No… My intention wasn’t…”

His stumbling over words is a little funny, but also annoying. He wasn’t so slick with an audience but felt comfortable as hell trying her. 

As he opens and closes his mouth trying to find the words that get him out of the situation unscathed the drivers move like a unit. Charles takes the lead while Lewis and Alex flank him. All three have their arms crossed and have looks that would make even Iman rethink some things.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that she is unqualified or anything.”

“Sure.”

Sarcasm drips from Charles uttering that single word. It makes the tension sky rocket.

Not wanting to stand here any longer, Iman holds up a hand and Charles closes his mouth. A saving grace because the man has been withholding his feelings less lately and what he was planning to say was probably scathing.

With him and the other silenced Iman turns her full attention back to Chad.

“Let’s be clear, I own all the ways having a mother and brother who have helped me and opened almost every door I’ve even looked at has gotten me to this point so quickly. But neither they, my father, or Logan Sargeant were in those classes. They didn’t take those tests. Didn’t work those jobs and internships. Didn’t push themselves to the brink to fight off people like you who assume I’m just here with none of the work done like I’m some girl who has all the connections to be where I want but is doing none of the work to back it up. You and everyone else can keep playing that game. Giggling amongst yourselves while ignoring facts, but you’re never going to play directly in my face about it. Understood?”

Chad nods, looks around, and then scurries off like the rat he is. He doesn’t dare look back and with the path he’s taking it’s clear he may not even stay for the last set of interviews.

An arm wraps around Imans shoulders and she looks down to her brother’s tattooed hand and then up to his face. Lewis looks beyond pissed, but a tad softer than he was moments ago.

“Proud of you,” he says.

Iman smiles, but then rolls her eyes. “One of us had to give a response that would have minimal blow back on their team.”

“Speaking of, I never want him invited by Williams again,” Alex says.

“Same for Mercedes.”

“And Ferrari.”

Those are a tad extreme demands and Iman opens her mouth to reassure them it’s not necessary, but every single person outside of the drivers nods and some whip out phones. 

None of her feels bad about this, but there's a slight weight that comes with it happening for her. She knows it’s not because of her, because she did nothing wrong.

With a sigh she pulls away from Lewis and begins walking toward the media bay.

“Come on. You’re late enough.”

They all whisper behind her, but she tunes them out and finds a seat to watch their interviews. At some point she heads back to the garage because she still has work to do, and things go smoothly. The universe's pittance for that bullshit. 

Wanting nothing more than to continue to have a decent rest of her day she doesn’t bring it up to anyone, though James does tell her it’s handled as he leaves for the day. Him knowing is expected even if she doesn’t love it. However, there is a worse person to know about it and when she hears a yell fill the garage because all three witnesses came to relay the information in person, she hates her life for a second.

There’s a great effort to keep Logan from seeking the man out. Kid has never been in a fight, but you would think he was a seasoned vet at it. Lewis almost lets him go and clearly plans to accompany him, but Iman gives him a look and one of her idiot brothers pulls it together enough to stop the other.

[libelelle]

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER. my opinion on Silver is by no means the single correct one nor do i think it should be, do what you do idc. we're all here throwing him at a wall repeatedly for fun

Ok so. whats the point i wanted to make. oh yeah right

SILVER THE HEDGEHOG!!!! FUCK!!!!

his character is so interesting this is a character for sure. im screaming and crying etc etc. the unfortunate part is NO ONE GETS HIM. i see a lot of interpretations that cherry pick his personality and experiences and it just! isnt it! he is a complicated character!

trying to simplify him down to 🥺innocent soft boi🥺 doesn't work, not only cause you're ignoring his DEBUT GAME (NEVER FORGET HE TRIED KILLING SONIC) but also because you just disconnected him from his entire backstory and motivations. i see people making Silver into a "cinnamon roll" guy and it always makes me grimace because... do you know WHY he is clueless. do you know why he doesn't get things or is too trusting or this or that. its because he grew up in the apocalypse alone. he hasn't experienced anything normal or healthy in his entire life. and since these traits, which are used to make him into the innocent cinnamon roll, are a result of growing up in a very abnormal environment, are symptoms of having never been in social situations and never had a normal day-to-day life. this means you can't ignore the OTHER characteristics that result from it. by this i mean hes very independent, very stubborn and aggressively mean (i recommend watching any of Silvers interactions in the Rivals games. he is extremely confrontational and a very good example of the kind of behaviour i'm talking about). but since this doesn't fit the bill for the character that you want him to be, you remove the context. him being clueless has nothing to do with his background. hes anxious cause hes a smol bean, not because hes been drowning in responsibility and trauma for as long as hes been alive. hes kind because hes innocent, not because he chose to be despite it all

"but linnea! what about IDW! hes very innocent in that!" INCORRECT BUZZER. IDW is not the same. i'll admit, the writing isn't always what i want or expect for Silver, but there's something important for you to note here

Silver is ✨Recovering✨

from my perspective at least. what i see is Silver, who has actively been working together with other people for MONTHS. he has friends, a support net, as well as hobbies. these are things he didn't have before, and being with these people, in both calm and hard times, helped him. So what we are seeing isn't the trauma responses, we're seeing the result of being acclimatized into a healthier and safer position. that's why there's a change in behaviour. this doesn't mean hes a soft boy now. AGAIN hes complicated. be careful not to boil him down to a single trait. in IDW we still see moments where he experiences difficulties because of his past. examples include when he met Whisper, Failed Social Interaction and said this:

he struggles with boundaries! of course he does! he's still getting the hang of being around people

then also recently when he came to help Sonic in 58:

he is struggling!! with nothing to focus on! his default is fight fight save the future fight!! he's not used to normal life and that makes him anxious and frustrated, unable to focus on things he cares about, as we see in the future growth comic in the 2022 annual

there are likely more examples but idc. need to finish this post. continuing, Silver is complicated, meaning that even when he is aggressive and tunnel visioning on a task, he has more going on. one thing i fucking lovee LOVE love about Silver is that he has hope. fuck if i were him i think i'd have given up. THOSE horrors? every day? no thanks

Silver feels anguish and frustration and fear. this being said even at his angstiest moments he has hope. you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that Silver fought through every horrible disaster, coming back to a newly devastated world every time and decided to continue with no hope for a better future. he is determined and he has hope, even if he has to fight tooth and nail for it. Usually when i think about Silver and his odd optimism, i go back to '06, when he's having his moral crisis over killing sonic.

"To kill someone to save the world... is that really the right thing to do?"

it would've been understandable if he decided it was the right thing to do, even if sonic was someone who was kind and loved, because that's just how bad the world is. maybe its just me, but the way this thought broke through in spite of his bull headed focus on destroying the iblis trigger speaks to me about his nature as a person. even coming from the bleak world he came from and even with the tunnel vision he had, he still considered this one persons life to be important too.

he is, at heart, a very gentle and kind person. he is, at heart, someone who is strong and who wants to help others. a version of Silver that is sad all the time, unable to see the good in the world (a phenomena i don't see much of thankfully) isn't true to Silver as a character because its missing that core trait to his character, that he wants to help because he cares.

Silver can't be one or the other. one way ignores his background and his trauma, which leaves out important parts of his personality, the other just abandons a very integral part of who he is.

the point really is to say that (slaps roof of Silver) this bad boy can fit so much layers!

[aeth-eris]

Mars Signs when reacting to bad food during a dinner date

Note : Totally satire, I swear. Although as a Libra Mars, accurate

Mars in Aries: They'll demand to speak to the manager like they're leading a battlefield. "Unacceptable! We demand satisfaction, and we demand it now! Charge!"

Mars in Taurus: They'll stare at the plate like they're contemplating the meaning of life before declaring, "This is a disaster. I might never recover from this. Bring me the chef, now!"

Mars in Gemini: They'll roll their eyes, take a dramatic bite, and announce, "Well, this meal is a one-star comedy show. I hope they have a good Yelp review because they're going to need it!"

Mars in Cancer: They'll look at their plate, then at their date, and sigh dramatically, "I knew I should have just cooked at home. This is an emotional rollercoaster I didn't sign up for!"

Mars in Leo: They'll raise their voice dramatically, "Excuse me! This is not what I ordered, and it's definitely not fit for a king or queen. My kingdom deserves better!"

Mars in Virgo: They'll inspect their plate with a critical eye, then call the waiter over, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to give you some notes on this dish. We need to talk about the seasoning, pronto!"

Mars in Libra: They'll smile sweetly at the waiter, "Oh, no, everything's fine. Don't worry about it. But also, can we have a serious chat about what just happened in the kitchen?"

Mars in Scorpio: They'll shoot daggers with their eyes, summoning the waiter with an ominous gaze. "You. We need to talk. And you better have a good explanation for this catastrophe, or things will get... intense."

Mars in Sagittarius: They'll laugh uproariously, "Well, this is a disaster, but at least it's a hilarious disaster! Let's just add this to our list of epic dinner date stories, shall we?"

Mars in Capricorn: They'll calmly put down their fork, call the waiter over, and declare, "This isn't acceptable. We need to talk about your standards, the restaurant's standards, and the standards of this entire industry."

Mars in Aquarius: They'll shrug and say, "Well, this is a fascinating social experiment in customer service, isn't it? Let's see how they handle a dissatisfied diner with a Ph.D. in constructive criticism."

Mars in Pisces: They'll gaze at their plate with a wistful sigh, then whisper to their date, "I think this meal might be a metaphor for the existential dread we all carry within us. Or maybe the chef just needs a hug."