#Computer Coding Classes For Kids

[codeyoung1]

Beginner Computer Coding Classes For Kid's Minds

Introduce your child to the fascinating coding with Computer Coding Classes For Kids, a beginner-friendly course tailored for young learners aged 5-10. Codeyoung's interactive and playful approach to teaching programming basics ensures that children grasp fundamental concepts through storytelling, games, and digital puzzles.

[communistkenobi]

also like this is not a defence of parents but I think “and these are kids whose parents thought they were tech literate enough to sign them up for a programming class” is very silly because I think it’s pretty easy to forget how much of using a computer is a skill you need to learn. I remember when I was a camp counselor for a summer I had to teach kids how to use scissors and it was a wild experience because I forgot using scissors was a skill you needed to learn. and in the same way when teaching I was not aware I needed to teach students what file pathways were because it was an invisible assumed skill I wasn’t aware other people didn’t have, but I wasn’t like oh christ kids these days and their freaking ipads…. I just like taught them what a file pathway was lol. and then after getting used to windows file explorer after a couple weeks they knew what it was. ta da

[dabidagoose]

I love love how Brennan chose to characterize porter where like. He's such an asshole. Such a fucking asshole of a guy and it really sucks to talk to him. And fig hates him so much just as she should. But despite that you can't discount him as some dope know-nothing cause he's got some INCREDIBLE wisdom and (for fig, not really for gorgug) is just a really good teacher. That really horrible experience of showing up to class with a burning hatred for the teacher for being here at all and then leaving knowing that you have just learned some incredibly valuable skills.

[butchlifeguard]

vital part of the Kids Cant Read discourse thats KILLING ME is that the only opinions we see are from english teachers. this is fine when the discussion is ostensibly about literacy but i think we should pass the phone to math teachers and computer science teachers. because im a little suspicious that the focus on stem for the past 20+ years could be a contributing factor

[kwetuhub1]

[ijustwannabecool]

It’s Just a Word, Right?

Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary... After a chaotic doubleheader weekend, Lewis returns home ready to unwind. But when their son repeats a word from the paddock at school, it sparks a parenting clash that cuts deeper than expected.

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

The smell of dinner hits Lewis before he’s even stepped out of the car.

It’s been two races back-to-back; Imola and Monaco. He flew home straight from debrief, wearing the same Ferrari jacket he left the circuit in. There’s still engine grease under his nails and a faint scuff mark on his cheek from a chaotic media pen scrum.

He’s not even through the front door when Sofia barrels into his legs, arms wrapped around him, curls wild and still a little sticky with honey.

“Hi, Daddy!”

Lewis lifts her easily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as Y/N calls from the kitchen, “Wash your hands first! Dinner’s just about done!”

Leo and Mateo are already at the table, perched in their chairs with plates of rice, roasted chicken, and steamed veggies in front of them. Y/N is cutting up Sofia’s portion, still dressed in her tank and joggers, looking like home.

Everything feels right.

Until Leo opens his mouth.

“I don’t want any more fucking broccoli.”

Silence.

Y/N freezes mid-slice.

Lewis pauses, mid-hand-wash, eyes flicking to his son with disbelief. He almost laughs. Almost.

“Leo,” Y/N says, voice sharp, calm, but barely.

Leo shrugs, poking a carrot with his fork. “Uncle Toto said it when he dropped the sandwich.”

Lewis chokes on air.

Y/N’s eyes laser in on him like she’s about to start qualifying laps around his ass. “Uncle Toto said it?”

Lewis wipes his hands on a dish towel, walking toward the table slowly. “Babe, c’mon, Toto probably did say it. I’ve heard him swear in six languages.”

“I don’t care if he said it in Morse code. Our son just said it at the dinner table,” she snaps.

Lewis crouches down beside Leo, trying to keep his tone light. “Where’d you hear that, really, bud?”

Leo looks up at him, completely unbothered. “The garage. You said it when the rear jack didn’t lock.”

Y/N doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to.

Lewis sighs. “Okay. That one’s on me.”

“It’s always on you,” she mutters under her breath, gathering up the juice cups.

Leo starts chewing on a breadstick like it’s no big deal, but Mateo whispers, “You’re in trouble.”

Sofia nods solemnly beside him, eyes wide.

“We don’t say that word, baby,” Y/N says gently to Leo, crouching to his level. “Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. It’s not kind.”

“But Daddy says it all the time,” Leo says, frowning. “You do too when your computer crashes.”

Y/N blinks.

Lewis snorts and instantly masks it with a cough.

“Oh my God, don’t laugh,” she says, shooting him a glare. “You’re the reason he told his whole class the brake pedal was ‘fucking toast.’ Do you know how many calls I got?”

“It was toast,” Lewis defends. “I almost put the car into the wall at 305 KPH an hour because someone didn’t torque the—”

“Lewis.” Her voice is warning enough.

He stands, frustrated but biting his tongue. “It’s a word. He didn’t hit anyone. He didn’t steal anything. He just... he just repeated something I said. I’ll talk to him.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“No, babe, you’re not getting it.” His voice sharpens. “They already live in a world where everyone watches them because of me. I just want them to feel normal, not like they’re walking on eggshells every time they say something wrong.”

Y/N’s jaw tightens. “And you think letting them swear is normal?”

“I think letting them be kids is normal.”

“You want them to be kids, or you just want to feel better about the fact you barely see them two weekends a month during the season?”

It slips. She doesn’t mean for it to. But it cuts through him like a wing mirror shattering.

Lewis stiffens. Silence falls again.

Sofia stabs a carrot with her little fork. “Mummy’s mad.”

Leo nods. “Like when the blender exploded.”

Lewis just walks away, back into the hallway, jaw clenched. He doesn't slam the door. Doesn’t yell.

He just sits on the stairs for a second. Breathing.

Two minutes later, Y/N follows, guilt already rising in her throat like a lump of gravel.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says quietly, sitting beside him.

Lewis doesn’t look at her. “Maybe you did.”

She places her hand on his knee. “I get frustrated. But you’re a good dad, Lew. The best. I just want to raise them right. Not like we were.”

Lewis finally looks at her. His voice is quieter now. “I want that too.”

They sit like that for a moment. Side by side.

From the kitchen, a sudden giggle erupts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mateo!” Y/N yells.

Lewis sighs. “Oh, come on.”

“I will end you,” she says, already getting up.

He catches her hand before she storms off, and grins, sheepish. “Still want to kiss me later?”

She glares. “Wash your mouth out with soap first.”

-------

flashback

It was years ago.

Pre-kids. Pre-marriage. Pre-Ferrari red. Just a messy hotel room in Monaco, the scent of champagne in the air, and Lewis Hamilton flat on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.

Y/N stood by the open window, robe half-tied, eyes on the Riviera lights below.

“You ever think about kids?” she asked, barely above the hum of traffic and late-night waves.

Lewis didn’t answer right away. She turned and saw it in his face, tension. Not the kind he got before a race, but the kind that lived in the cracks of a past he never talked about much.

He lowered his arm. “Not really.”

She climbed into bed beside him, soft and slow, tracing a finger down the lion tattoo on his chest. “Why not?”

He looked at her then, eyes dark and serious. “Because I wouldn’t know how to be a dad. Not a real one.”

“You had one.”

“Exactly.”

Silence.

Then he added, quieter, “I don’t want to be the kind of father I had. Detached. Controlling. The guy who showed up to take credit but never stayed long enough to do the work.”

Y/N rested her head on his chest. “Then don’t be.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. Love them more than you hate the way you were raised. That’s how you break it.”

He closed his eyes, breathing her in like she was the only real thing in the world. “I don’t want to mess up a kid.”

She kissed his chest. “Then maybe don’t have one with just anyone.”

Lewis huffed a laugh, eyes opening. “What, and have one with you?”

She smiled. “You’d be lucky.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “Don’t tempt me.”

---------

The house was quiet.

The kids were finally asleep. Mateo tucked in with his dinosaur nightlight, Sofia curled up with a plush lion, and Leo sprawled across his bed like he fought demons in his sleep.

Y/N padded into the ensuite bathroom, her hair pulled into a loose bun, a soft cotton robe tied around her waist. She was brushing her teeth when she felt Lewis’s presence before she saw him.

His reflection met hers in the mirror, shirtless, boxers riding low on his hips, tattoos stark in the dim bathroom lighting.

“You still mad?” he asked, voice low and rough.

She spit into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and turned. “A little.”

Lewis stepped closer, caging her in with one hand on the counter behind her. “Want me to make it up to you?”

She didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow.

“I mean,” he murmured, lips brushing her cheek, “I could wash my mouth out with soap… or I could use it on you.”

That did it.

Y/N shoved his chest, half-laughing, half-annoyed, but he caught her wrist mid-push, twisting it gently until her back hit the bathroom counter.

Lewis leaned in, lips grazing her jaw. “You love when I’m like this.”

“You’re a menace,” she whispered, but her thighs were already squeezing together.

“I’m your menace.”

He kissed her slow at first, maddeningly so. Then his hands were on her hips, sliding her robe open, parting the fabric until it slipped from her shoulders and pooled on the tile.

Lewis sank to his knees without a word, palms dragging down her sides until they gripped behind her thighs.

“Still want to punish me?” he asked, looking up at her from under those lashes.

She smirked. “Only if you beg.”

He grinned. “Bet.”

--------

The bathroom lights are still on, casting a soft glow into the bedroom where they’ve ended up, a trail of clothes and discarded thoughts leading from one room to the next.

Y/N is sprawled across Lewis’s chest, her cheek pressed to the lion ink she’s always loved, the one she used to trace when she was just his girlfriend sneaking into hotel rooms under fake names.

His fingers draw slow circles on her back, steady and grounding.

“Still mad at me?” he asks, voice low and rough with the edges of sleep.

Y/N hums. “Not really. You were right… kind of.”

“Kind of?” he repeats, smiling.

“You’re a good dad, Lew.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He just holds her tighter, like if he doesn’t, she might vanish. Then he speaks, quiet and real.

“I always thought I’d mess this up,” he says. “I used to tell myself I didn’t want a family because I couldn’t handle it. Because the paddock was my whole life, and anything outside of it felt… far.”

Y/N lifts her head to look at him, eyes soft. “And now?”

He gazes at her. “Now it feels like the rest of my life is the time between coming home to you.”

Something about the way he says it makes her chest ache.

Lewis continues, almost like he needs to get it out. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I still panic when they cry too hard. I still think I’ll say the wrong thing. But I love them. God, I love them.”

“They know,” she says. “Every time you hug them, every time you show up, even when you’re exhausted. They know.”

Lewis swallows hard. “Sometimes I think about that night in Monaco. You remember?”

“The one with the robe and the champagne?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I said I’d never be a dad. Said I’d ruin a kid.”

Y/N brushes her fingers along his cheek. “And now you’ve got three who think the sun rises because you told it to.”

His laugh is quiet. A little broken. Full of disbelief.

She kisses him gently, murmuring against his lips, “You didn’t ruin anything, Lew. You built this. You built us.”

They lie in silence for a while, nothing but the hum of the house and the softness between them.

Then he whispers, “You’re still a bitch, though.”

Y/N laughs, swats at his chest, and lets herself fall back into him with a sigh. “Yeah, well. You married one.”

“And I’d do it again tomorrow.”

--------

The end.

[pollsgalore]

PART 1 of this poll: Click this

Been seeing your replies and reblogs, so have another poll that has more kids that I remember from school and that you guys relate to

(Wish tumblr could let you do more than 12 options so it could all be one big poll)

[ghostbasin]

— JUST A LITTLE FURTHER.

Kevin Khatchadourian x Reader. Kevin loves to push you, to see how far you'll follow him. 2.1k words. Warnings: Questionable morality, psychological manipulation, NSFW actions implied/mentioned vaguely, minor violence, Kevin-typical hostility. Reader gender: Female. 🦇 Please feel free to submit requests! 🦇

Notes: I probably could have turned this into a full fic, but I was just in the mood to jot down some ideas. Might turn this into a fic later if there's interest!

For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a good girl. It's not like you didn't enjoy the general debauchery people your age got into every once and again, but you never did anything outright heinous.

For Kevin, his interest in you began as a very... clinical ordeal.

He craved you because of what you were when he met you — mostly innocent, very malleable, but not someone who was a snitch, or inauthentic, or dumb, God forbid. You were something he could work with. Something he could turn into a toy, one of his very own.

And with that, it started small.

It's not like he wanted you to commit murder or something. He was tip-tapping away at his keyboard, working on his latest "prank" for Eva — nothing unfixable, but an inconvenience to her computer no doubt.

"And if you press this button," he says, finger hovering over the return key, "her shit will be so fried for a solid day." You couldn't help but notice the sound of his voice, the closest he ever came to happiness — a dull tone of haphazard amusement.

"Why even bother," you ask, "it's just going to piss her off for that 'solid day' and then you'll do it again."

"It's fun," is all he replies.

Kevin gestures to his keyboard expectingly, as if to say, "go on, do it." You wait for him to elaborate before he asks, slight aggression on his tongue, "Are you pressing it or not?"

"Why the hell would I do that? I don't love your mom, but I don't hate her."

But as always, he wears you down. It's fun. It's temporary. It's not that bad, Y/N, get over yourself. After a few moments of back and forth, you hover your finger over the return key as he commanded, and before you can change your mind, he slaps your hand down onto the key and you feel strange as code rolls across the screen, working its "magic," if you can call it that.

"See? That wasn't so hard." It's the closest you'd get in terms of encouragement or pride from Kevin.

The next few days, Kevin leaves you alone. You didn't beat yourself up about inconveniencing Eva for very long, knowing Kevin would eventually give into her bickering and reverse whatever nonsense he caused. Meanwhile, Kevin dissected you like a bug in his mind, tapping your glass enclosure and wondering what would make you squirm.

You thought it was a one-off, just another thing Kevin wanted to do just to prove to himself he could. Oh, how wrong you were.

A week after, Eva comes home early from work, to see you and Kevin on the couch. Celia had begged and pleaded for you to watch one of her favorite movies with her, and of course Kevin couldn't leave you to yourself, even around his little sister. His sister, who you considered to be a sister to you, too.

Eva walks in and immediately says, "Celie, can you go upstairs for a few minutes? I need to talk to Kevin in private." Celia, naturally, complains a bit, but gives in, always eager to make others happy.

The second Celia's door is closed, she begins. You can't quite follow what she's talking about, as if she started in the middle of a story. Apparently, the school called her about a brutal fight, where one kid needed stitches, and Kevin was the only kid in class unaccounted for at that time.

"And?" Kevin asks, his voice bored and his eyes fixated on the neon colors on the paused TV. The dots connected in your head at last — what the hell had Kevin done?

The mostly one-sided back and forth between Kevin and Eva continued as anxiety wound itself tightly in your stomach, wondering why Kevin looked unscathed and what he was thinking.

"Well, Mummer, I'd love to take responsibility for the ass-kicking that guy got, but I wasn't at school at all today," he says. You look at him incredulously.

Eva asks where he'd been, then, if not at school—he was reckless at times, but a generally good student—and the words that came from his mouth would've sent you into a coma three years ago.

"Are you sure you want to know?" followed by Eva's nod, followed by, "I was too busy fucking Y/N's brains out to be beating up a classmate, Mumsy."

The dead shock on your face mirrors Eva's, and all you can think is, there's actually no way on God's green Earth he said that.

And Eva asks you, if you had in fact, "been in bed" with Kevin. He shoots you a glance that says, "you have one chance and one chance only," so you nod and say, "Yes, Mrs. K., I was." You hope the anxiety and shock in your voice passes for embarrassment, and later that evening try to give Kevin a "talking to," only for him to ignore you.

At the end of your tirade, if you could call it that—if anything it was a half-hearted attempt at trying to gain some respect from Kevin—he asks if you're quite done, kisses you, and pats you on the head like some dog of his.

Kevin takes you out to the backyard the next day. He says to you that you're going to learn to shoot, and it's clear this isn't a choice you have. He arms you with his bow and arrow, steers your arms in the right direction, and for hours you practice shooting at his target. Thankfully, you're a fast learner.

This becomes your little routine. Kevin pisses you off, you try to change things, he placates you with a kiss or a few extra moments in bed when you wake up before he leaves you deserted in his mess of blankets to go brush his teeth, and then he helps you practice after straightening up whatever minimal chaos had been caused in his room.

It only takes a few weeks for you to be a good shot. Far from as good at it as Kevin, but good enough. You could hit the target, and not poorly on a good day.

Later, after a practice session, you sit on Kevin's bed. The tiny twin bed was hardly big enough for one of you, much less two, but you sat cross-legged on his comforter as he remained fixated on the screen in front of him.

"Kev, we should do something," you suggest. His eye flickers to you for a second—didn't he say not to call him "Kev"—and back to his screen.

"Bored?" he asks. You hadn't known Kevin for years by any means, but you knew him for long enough to understand that the taunting way he asked meant you had done something, and he was going to take advantage of it.

Kevin stands up from his desk, the worn computer chair completing its circular revolution from the motion of him standing as he walks over to you. You look curiously at him, expectant.

"Get up," he demands — not an ask, but a command. You know better than to spend too long wondering what for, and stand up off the bed. You and him, face to face, eye to eye now.

Kevin doesn't speak at first. He watches you, the way you shift from foot to foot. He never did understand why people couldn't just stand still, and he grabs you to hold you into place. You jump.

He smirks. Did you really think he was going to hurt you? You can't play with a broken toy. His hands drop to his sides, but the expression doesn't leave his face.

"What would you do if you had to protect someone you love?"

The question is abrupt, confusing. What did that have to do with anything? So you tell him, you'd protect them. You love your family, your pets, your friends — and you'd protect them to the best of your abilities. You'd even go as far as to say that you'd protect his family if you had to.

"To the best of your abilities?" he taunts, something dark in his eyes. "What, there's a limit?" He steps closer, leans in. His nose comes millimeters from brushing your cheek and he whispers to you, "Would you kill for someone you love? Would you die for them?"

It feels like a threat. It feels like a warning, and so you say, "Kevin, you're scaring me." He smiles, sickeningly.

"You didn't answer my question, Y/N," he replies. If it were anyone else, and any other question, you might have found something attractive about the situation.

Without anything else to do, you nod. Yes, you would kill or die for someone you love. Of course. It's the right thing to say — isn't it?

"That's a good girl," he says, leaning in to kiss you. Your fingers feel cold, but you kiss him back and feel a little warmer. You forget about this, filing it away in your brain as "odd shit Kevin does for attention."

That is, until several weeks later.

You had no idea how Celia had gotten there. Kevin takes you to the backyard to practice, and Celia is somehow halfway up a tree, sitting on a branch. She could climb just fine, and she watched you practice in the backyard from time to time, but she was sitting there and collecting leaves from a branch way higher than you'd ever seen her climb — not too far to get down, but definitely an injury-worthy fall.

By now, Kevin had brought out one of his older bows so you could practice simultaneously. You keep an eye on Celia as you shoot, occasionally glancing up to ensure she's still firmly planted on the tree and not trying to get down on her own.

You had shot about four or five arrows at the target, all pretty clean shots, before you realized Kevin had stopped. All you could hear was your own breathing and Celia's humming as she happily played with the tree leaves.

You look at Kevin, and see him staring at his sister, arrow in one hand and bow to his side in the other.

"Are you okay?" You ask him. He would never answer questions like that, but you would ask anyway.

"You'd kill for someone you love, die for them," he says. It's not a question this time. And a feeling washes over you, one that says run! run!, but you stay put. He continues, "We'll see how honest you were being."

"Kev, wha-," you start, but he interrupts you. "You, or her," he says.

"What?" You shout in a hushed voice, trying to avoid stirring concern in Celia. What the fuck was he doing?

"It's time to pick. Are you willing to die — for her?" Kevin asks, the venom, the disdain clearer in his voice than ever.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You ask, your voice dead serious. You realized what this was now. As he loaded the arrow and pulled back the bowstring, you realized — he was hellbent on firing at one of you, you or innocent, unsuspecting Celia.

Celia was as good as your sister. She had no where to run, and before your mind could catch up to your voice, you say, "Me."

Kevin was never going to kill either of you, he never planned on it. What good is a broken toy, he reminds himself. And so when he pulls back his bowstring and releases it, he of course aims just shy of hitting you.

But what Kevin didn't expect was that you weren't going to die for Celia, but you would kill for her if you had to. By the time he processed what was going on, you'd fired an arrow his way, too.

You missed. The one time you were ready to be fully, irrevocably on the mark, bullseye, you missed. But Kevin drops his bow and says, "You weren't lying," smug as ever. It shocked him that you would actually fire at him, but he wouldn't let you know that.

"You're one fucked up son of a bitch," you said, dropping your bow, speed walking inside, and then out the front door to head back to your house. He didn't see you cry as you walked down the street, and he didn't follow you.

It wasn't the end of your relationship with Kevin, far from it. As much as you wanted to stay away, he pulled you back in — and it went without saying that neither of you would breathe a word about that day.

What you didn't know when you left his house, however, is that that day was the beginning of your unraveling.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Housing is a labor issue

There's a reason Reagan declared war on unions before he declared war on everything else – environmental protection, health care, consumer rights, financial regulation. Unions are how working people fight for a better world for all of us. They're how everyday people come together to resist oligarchy, extraction and exploitation.

Take the 2019 LA teachers' strike. As Jane McAlevey writes in A Collective Bargain, the LA teachers didn't just win higher pay for their members! They also demanded (and got) an end to immigration sweeps of parents waiting for their kids at the school gate; a guarantee of green space near every public school in the city; and on-site immigration counselors in LA schools:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Unionization is enjoying an historic renaissance. The Hot Labor Summer transitioned to an Eternal Labor September, and it's still going strong, with UAW president Shawn Fain celebrating his members victory over the Big Three automakers by calling for a 2028 general strike:

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/uaw-general-strike-no-class

The rising labor movement has powerful allies in the Biden Administration. NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo is systematically gutting the "union avoidance" playbook. She's banned the use of temp-work app blacklists that force workers to cross picket lines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

She's changed the penalty for bosses who violate labor law during union drives. It used to be the boss would pay a fine, which was an easy price to pay in exchange for killing your workers' union. Now, the penalty is automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And while the law doesn't allow Abruzzo to impose a contract on companies that refuse to bargain their unions, she's set to force those companies to honor other employers' union contracts until they agree to a contract with their own workers:

https://onlabor.org/gc-abruzzo-just-asked-the-nlrb-to-overturn-ex-cell-o-heres-why-that-matters/

She's also nuking TRAPs, the deals that force workers to repay their employers for their "training expenses" if they have the audacity to quit and get a better job somewhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

(As with every aspect of the Biden White House, its labor policy is contradictory and self-defeating, with other Biden appointees working to smash worker power, including when Biden broke the railworkers' strike:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

A surging labor movement opens up all kinds of possibilities for a better world. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, UNITE Here attorney Zoe Tucker makes the case for unions as a way out of America's brutal housing crisis:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/why-unions-should-join-the-housing-fight/

She describes how low-waged LA hotel workers have been pushed out of neighborhoods close to their jobs, with UNITE Here members commuting three hours in each direction, starting their work-days at 3AM in order to clock in on time:

https://twitter.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1669088899769987079

UNITE Here members are striking against 50 hotels in LA and Orange County, and their demands include significant cost-of-living raises. But more money won't give them back the time they give up to those bruising daily commutes. For that, unions need to make housing itself a demand.

As Tucker writes, most workers are tenants and vice-versa. What's more, bad landlords are apt to be bad bosses, too. Stepan Kazaryan, the same guy who owns the strip club whose conditions were so bad that it prompted the creation of Equity Strippers NoHo, the first strippers' union in a generation, is also a shitty landlord whose tenants went on a rent-strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/20/the-missing-links/#plunderphonics

So it was only natural that Kazaryan's tenants walked the picket line with the Equity Stripper Noho workers:

https://twitter.com/glendaletenants/status/1733290276599570736?s=46

While scumbag bosses/evil landlords like Kazaryan deal out misery retail, one apartment building at a time, the wholesale destruction of workers' lives comes from private equity giants who are the most prolific source of TRAPs, robo-scabbing apps, illegal union busting, and indefinite contract delays – and these are the very same PE firms that are buying up millions of single-family homes and turning them into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Tucker's point is that when a worker clocks out of their bad job, commutes home for three hours, and gets back to their black-mold-saturated, overpriced apartment to find a notice of a new junk fee (like a surcharge for paying your rent in cash, by check, or by direct payment), they're fighting the very same corporations.

Unions who defend their workers' right to shelter do every tenant a service. A coalition of LA unions succeeded in passing Measure ULA, which uses a surcharge on real estate transactions over $5m to fund "the largest municipal housing program in the country":

https://unitedtohousela.com/app/uploads/2022/05/LA_City_Affordable_Housing_Petition_H.pdf

LA unions are fighting for rules to limit Airbnbs and other platforms that transform the city's rental stock into illegal, unlicensed hotels:

https://upgo.lab.mcgill.ca/publication/strs-in-los-angeles-2022/Wachsmuth_LA_2022.pdf

And the hotel workers organized under UNITE Here are fighting their own employers: the hoteliers who are aggressively buying up residences, evicting their long-term tenants, tearing down the building and putting up a luxury hotel. They got LA council to pass a law requiring hotels to build new housing to replace any residences they displace:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-11-28/airbnb-operators-would-need-police-permit-in-l-a-under-proposed-law

UNITE Here is bargaining for a per-room hotel surcharge to fund housing specifically for hotel workers, so the people who change the sheets and clean the toilets don't have to waste six hours a day commuting to do so.

Labor unions and tenant unions have a long history of collaboration in the USA. NYC's first housing coop was midwifed by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America in 1927. The Penn South coop was created by the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. The 1949 Federal Housing Act passed after American unions pushed hard for it:

http://www.peterdreier.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Labors-Love-Lost.pdf

It goes both ways. Strong unions can create sound housing – and precarious housing makes unions weaker. Remember during the Hollywood writers' strike, when an anonymous studio ghoul told the press the plans was to "allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses?"

Vienna has the most successful housing in any major city in the world. It's the city where people of every income and background live in comfort without being rent-burdened and without worry about eviction, mold, or leaks. That's the legacy of Red Vienna, the Austrian period of Social Democratic Workers' Party rule and built vast tracts of high-quality public housing. The system was so robust that it rebounded after World War II and continues to this day:

https://www.politico.eu/article/vienna-social-housing-architecture-austria-stigma/

Today, the rest of the world is mired in a terrible housing crisis. It's not merely that the rent's too damned high (though it is) – housing precarity is driving dangerous political instability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Turning the human necessity of shelter into a market commodity is a failure. The economic orthodoxy that insists that public housing, rent control, and high-density zoning will lead to less housing has failed. rent control works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

Leaving housing to the market only produces losers. If you have the bad luck to invest everything you have into a home in a city that contracts, you're wiped out. If you have the bad luck into invest everything into a home in a "superstar city" where prices go up, you also lose, because your city becomes uninhabitable and your children can't afford to live there:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#yimby

A strong labor movement is the best chance we have for breaking the housing deadlock. And housing is just for starters. Labor is the key to opening every frozen-in-place dysfunction. Take care work: the aging, increasingly chronically ill American population is being tortured and murdered by private equity hospices, long-term care facilities and health services that have been rolled up by the same private equity firms that destroyed work and housing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

In her interview with Capital & Main's Jessica Goodheart, National Domestic Workers Alliance president Ai-jen Poo describes how making things better for care workers will make things better for everyone:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-12-13-labor-leader-ai-jen-poo-interview/

Care work is a "triple dignity investment": first, it makes life better for the worker (most often a woman of color), then, it allows family members of people who need care to move into higher paid work; and of course, it makes life better for people who need care: "It delivers human potential and agency. It delivers a future workforce. It delivers quality of life."

The failure to fund care work is a massive driver of inequality. America's sole federal public provision for care is Medicaid, which only kicks in after a family it totally impoverished. Funding care with tax increases polls high with both Democrats and Republicans, making it good politics:

https://www.dataforprogress.org/blog/2021/4/7/voters-support-investing-in-the-care-economy

Congress stripped many of the care provisions from Build Back Better, missing a chance for an "unprecedented, transformational investment in care." But the administrative agencies picked up where Congress failed, following a detailed executive order that identifies existing, previously unused powers to improve care in America. The EO "expands access to care, supports family caregivers and improves wages and conditions for the workforce":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/04/18/executive-order-on-increasing-access-to-high-quality-care-and-supporting-caregivers/

States are also filling the void. Washington just created a long-term care benefit:

https://apnews.com/article/washington-long-term-care-tax-disability-cb54b04b025223dbdba7199db1d254e4

New Mexicans passed a ballot initiative that establishes permanent funding for child care:

https://www.cwla.org/new-mexico-votes-for-child-care/

New York care workers won a $3/hour across the board raise:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/new-york-budget-fair-pay-home-care/

The fight is being led by women of color, and they're kicking ass – and they're doing it through their unions. Worker power is the foundation that we build a better world upon, and it's surging.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

[echantedtoon]

A Bug In The System

You purchase an old game console from your Uncle Litwack after it goes haywire as your new pet project. Everything seems to be working well, however unbeknownst to you there's a bug in the system.

(Got this idea partially from watching console restoration videos on YouTube.)

You weren't sure what about this game cabinet was bothering you. 

Maybe it was the randomly flashing screen you still couldn't explain? Or the changes in code that you found and was so sure you never programmed in. Or maybe it was the strange mutterings you thought you heard the game characters say even though you were sure they weren't programmed to say. You weren't sure. But whenever you played the game or tried going it, it seemed as if everything was running smoothly. 

So perhaps it was nothing but you hearing things. You had been pretty stressed out with college work and staying up most nights as you studied programming and computer science.  So it was probably the lack of sleep combined with weird hallucinations from said lack of sleep. However it was strange it only started after you had started working on this game console. 

It was a Saturday morning.

Your day had started off with a sunny morning and a good meal. You had no classes or anything else you had to get done with that day so you made up your mind to visit someone you hadn't seen or heard from in a while. Your Uncle Litwak. His arcade was only a few miles away from the college and where you were currently living, so why not visit your favorite uncle in your entire family?  You arrived at the arcade a bit later than you intended on with the traffic but luckily there was plenty of parking space for you to just pull up and park your hand me down truck.

The sunlight was warm as you happily walked across the concrete and right up to the doors leading into the arcade. It looked exactly the same the last time you visited a few months ago minus a new game console against the fair wall called 'Twilight's Bain' and looked to be a run and gun style game. Maybe you'd try it out while you were here.

Mustn't have been too busy today as there was only around five or six kids around the place playing games and a few adults you assumed were the parents standing around watching or playing on their phones. 

"Uncle Litwak?," you called out walking past the noises of dancing beats, chase scene music, and the groans of zombies dying inside the digital screens of the game consoles. F/c orbs blinking looking around for any signs of the familiar older man. "Uncle Litwak!"

Maybe he was in the back office? You made your way past the other consoles including one of  the newer ones that was called Heroes Duty. That's where most of the shooting noises were coming from as two boys were both blasting away at the screen shooting fake robot bugs. Passing a few other games and turning a corner, you finally saw the person you were looking for. 

Facing away from you with a phone to his ear was your uncle. He took looked no different than the day you last saw him. Wearing that famous black and white striped shirt, and the pack around his waist wear he was always sure to keep any spare quarters for quick refunds or to exchange for dollar bills handed to him in exchange for the kids to fuel the games. He was slightly leaned over, one hand on his hip as a sigh escaped his lips.

"So you can't make it today?," he asked and the faint sounds of someone's voice coming from the phone answered back although it was too muffled and low volume to tell what the person on the other side was saying. "Oh..I see. Well when are you getting it fixed?" Another pause before your Uncle Litwak hummed. "Alrighty then. Have your boys call me back as soon as you get a free date will ya? Good. Thanks, Harvey. Drop by with the grandkids sometime. It's always fun to see them running around here. Hehe. I'll talk to you later. Alright. Take care."

He must've been too into the call to hear your approaching footsteps or the distant sounds of the arcade muffled your approach so he had no idea you were standing right behind him as he hung up. That is until you cleared your throat causing him to turn to you. He blinked a few times catching him off guard before a wife smile graced his face.

"Hey, hey!," he immediately greeted opening up his arms and turning to fully face you. "Well if it isn't my favorite college gal!"

"Hey, Uncle Litwak!," you greeted going to return the open hug he gave you. It lasted a few minutes with him patting you on the back before you both pulled away. "How are you? I haven't seen you since Mom's birthday party."

He made a 'psh' sound waving a hand off. "Well you know how it is. Some days are a lot slower than others, but it's been okay. Why are you here, Sweetie?" He gestured as he went to start walking. "Shouldn't you be up there studying for...What is it again? Electronics?"

You chuckled going to start walking next to him. "Programming and computer science. And no. I didn't have anything to do today so I figured it'd be nice to visit you. Maybe we can get lunch or something?" 

He seemed to brighten up at the good news. "Honey, that's the best news I had all day."

All day? Your brow rose in curiosity. "Did something happen?'

Again he sighed and a hand reached up to scratch his head. "Well I've been having a bit of a problem with my usual pick up guy."

"What happened?"

"Well my usual salvage guy was supposed to be here this morning to pick up Sugar Rush, but their truck broke down and I'm going to have to wait until they get it fixed," he explained as you both passed the whack-a-mole game, "I guess I can just ask someone to look online for a different local salvage company or I can wheel it out near the dumpsters."

"Sugar Rush?" Your brows furrowed in thought as the name definitely rang a bell. Wasn't that game the racing game that was candy land themed? You vaguely remembered playing it two or three times over the years, but you weren't too familiar with it. "Ya mean that racing game that looks like Willy Wonka made it?"

He huffed a chuckle. "That's one way to put it I guess." But he nodded. "Yeah. Two days ago the darned thing broke and unfortunately it'd cost me more to fix it than to pay someone else to haul it outta here."

"Uh huh..." You hummed it thought. "How'd it break?"

"Apparently the game went coco like your great Nana and someone broke the steering wheel thingamajig on it. I don't know what to do with it now except to wheel it over to the corner until they're able to pick it up I suppose."

"Hey, Uncle Litwak. What if I take it?"

That got him to stop walking and turn to you in question. "You want to what now, Sweetie?"

You smiled at him. "I can take it if you don't want it anymore." You offered to his surprise. "I'm working really hard to study programming so I can use it as a practice project! Maybe I can even get it fixed for you!"

He hummed rubbing at his head again. "Well...I guess it would save me the trouble of getting it outta here and it'd just be taking up space, but are you sure you'd want to do that?"

You nodded. "I'd love to take it!"

...He smiled. "Well alright. If you want it that bad it's yours."

You beamed. "Thanks, Uncle Litwak! Lemme buy you some lunch to make up for it! My treat!"

"Sweetie, that's an offer I can't refuse."

With some help you managed to get the old game loaded up and strapped safely into your truck and hauled it all the way home after your visit was over. Your neighbors were nice enough to help you unload it and carry it back to your apartment where you were fully able to get a good look at it. 

It wasn't in too bad shape. Of course there was the destroyed steering wheel and when you plugged it in, the screen was a bit glitchy but otherwise everything seemed to be ok. The easiest part to fix was the steering wheel. You ended up finding a new steering wheel for two hundred dollars on ebay and ended up purchasing it. Was it expensive? Yes. Did you want to fix the console? Also yes. It took a whole week of waiting before you got a friend of yours, who fixed computers and other devices as a side gig, to reattach the new steering wheel and clean up a little bit of the outside.

If you didn't know it was old, you'd say it was brand new. However the hardest part of the fix up was the internal touch ups as you called it. Taking a careful sweep through inside, showed no damage to any of the wires or motherboard. That was good. It was a little dusty but nothing a soft duster cloth couldn't fix. All that was left was checking on the code.

So when you hooked it up to your laptop, you were surprised to see so much missing. Specifically a lot of the codes for NPCs and game racers.

Now that was certainly strange. Why wasn't there any coding for one of the most important aspects of the game? Sure it was just a simple racing arcade game but it didn't make sense to not include that. No wonder the game wasn't working. Your poor uncle must've been scammed and sold a cheap knockoff or something. 

Well other than the missing characters, there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with the coding at all. This was a perfect opportunity to practice coding in some characters of your own! But first thing's first. You'd run a virus scan on it just to be sure everything was working ok. 

THAT was the first time something strange happened.

It was a routine virus scan being performed on the console. You've done it before. So when suddenly the consoles screen glitched out and your laptop quickly shut down to the blue screen of death in the middle of said scan, you were shocked. 

That hadn't happened before.

A few taps of your keyboard did nothing. In order to get it to stop you had to unplug your laptop from the console which... instantly fixed it and got rid of the blue screen which surprised you. There must've been something wrong with the system. So you unplugged it, replugged it, and got the game to reset. 

Everything seemed to work ok after that. 

You tried the virus scan again and this time it worked. Detecting nothing. Weird but you guessed that the game console being older than your laptop would have a bit of trouble adjusting to the laptop at first.

That wasn't the only strange thing however. Programming in characters in your free time between classes and other obligations was pretty simple and fun. Really the hardest parts was looking online for the normal character models from the original game and getting their exact details and voice lines in. Thank gosh for internet connections. 

The strange thing was when you were trying to code in that princess character. Vanellope Von something or other. You were trying to get it as close to the original game as possible. You got maybe most of the coding for her model done when all of a sudden your laptop blue screened again.

"What the-!?" You tapped the spacebar on your laptop to no avail. A frustrated growl escaped your throat as you glared at the stupid blue screen. "You've gotta be kidding me!" You tried and tried to get it to stop. It only stopped when you disconnected from the system again only to find all your previous progress GONE. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! IT TOOK ME DAYS TO DO THAT!!"

Stupid laptop. 

You had to start all over again. This time you decided to make the code and only add it to the game once it was all finished. The result of it was you having a full working model for the Princess in game sitting on the popcorn box throne and waving at the players as they raced when she herself wasn't chosen for the roster. FINALLY. 

You were so happy to finally get it in the game that you probably didn't notice the gleaming glitching eyes within the crowd of cheering nut npcs when you did a test through drive of the game to see how you did so far. Not bad. It was a bit buggy still with a few kinks to work out, but nothing you couldn't fix eventually. You especially made a mental note to fix the spontaneous glitch that made you randomly get stuck in the track if you crashed.

The next time you got back around to the game wasn't until a few months later. Studying, exams, family, and your irl job had eaten everything else for a long while. So imagine your surprise when you say down to do a quick playthrough of the game, just as a refresher on what you needed to work on, and you found no traces of the princess in her popcorn throne.

The roster was full of eight of the racers you remembered adding however the one right in the middle was one you'd never seen before..

"That's weird," you mumbled to yourself staring right at the middle character on the roster. "I don't remember adding you."

Right smack dab in the middle of the roster was an odd character. A man nearly complete bald. He looked goofy all dressed up in puffy pants and Tinkerbell like shoes and a purple overcoat, striking an equally as goofy pose standing on one leg and both arms thrown up into the air. A crown sat on top his head as much like the other characters stared at you blankly. 

You definitely didn't add this guy. Who was he? Where did he come from? Had you added him but forgotten?...No. You kept track of what you added. Confusion and curiosity took a hold of you and so you use the steering wheel and peddle to choose said mysterious character. He let out a happy laugh as he was picked out and the game moved along to the racing bits. 

However you did notice the absence of one said princess whom was supposed to be sitting in the popcorn throne or in another one of the other racecars. Instead of her in the racecars designed for her, it was the king looking character you'd chosen for the race. 

"What in the world is going on?", you questioned as you continued the game. 

And was shocked to find it running so ..so smoothly. The previous bugs and glitches were all but gone.  Even when you accidentally slammed into an up coming jawbreaker you didn't get stuck in the track. If anything a few annoyed sounding shouts instead came out of the character. You drove him around and listened to his voice lines of 'Have some candy!' and 'To the rightful ruler goes the spoils!' Only getting second place.

The cutscene that played out was your character standing in the middle of a confetti spotlight as a silver trophy floated down into his awaiting arms. He looked disappointed by his prize humming before saying the voice line-

"Not what I deserve...but it'll do for now."

"Yeah. I definitely didn't program you." You turned around in your seat towards the laptop sat up on the desk and didn't notice the way the character LOOKED DIRECTLY AT YOUR FORM as you stood up. "I'd better check on this."

The panicked look upon the character's face as he quickly fled the scene dropping the silver trophy in the process as you turned on your laptop and began going through the files. Only to be shocked to not see any of the codes for the princess you spent hours on. ...It was as if you never put code in to begin with. Furious you began going through the strands and strands of code looking for a trace of the strand you put in. You didn't find any. However you did find one file you didn't recognize.

"...Turbo?"

Turbo? You didn't remember labeling any files under that name. And where did all of the process code go?! You implemented it in perfectly and it was working out just a few months ago. You didn't have a chance to explore the code any further before once again your laptop blue screened as you tried to access it. For a moment there was nothing but you just staring at the screen before you ended up slamming your face into the desk and let out a muffled cry of frustration.

"I don't get what's going on!," you vented to a friend a few days later as you both were having lunch. He listened patiently as you rambled on pointing a poor fry at everything. "I made sure the code was perfect and it was working fine when I was finally able to put it in! I don't get what's wrong with the stupid thing!"

Your friend hummed as he chewed on cheap college Cafeteria pizza. "Maybe the code wasn't compatible? I mean the console's like what? Over fifteen years old now? It probably got deleted from it or something because it wasn't compatible with the older mainframe."

"Then why is everything else working? I don't get it! And my stupid laptop keeps breaking down in the middle of it all.'' You threw the fry in your mouth with a grumble as your friend hummed.

"Maybe it's not the console but your laptop? Did you get it checked out for viruses and stuff?", he tried suggesting to which you nodded yes.

"Yeah. The repair guy said there's nothing wrong with it which makes it weirder."

"Then maybe there's something wrong with the connection between the devices. How about I come over and see if there's anything wrong?"

"That might actually be helpful. Thanks."

Three days later your friend stopped by with his own laptop which you both connected to the console as two eyes watched you from the frozen pose of the game roster. Your friend was easily able to get access to the code and go through it. First running a virus scan which turned up nothing thank goodness. At least you knew there was no viruses attacking your poor laptop. He hummed along with the distant sounds of the cheery music coming from the console as he went through the code for twenty minutes as you watched from over his shoulder before turning to you.

"There's nothing wrong with anything. No bugs or anything else I can see. Your coding skills seem to be going through."

"There was definitely some bugs I needed to sort out."

He shrugged. "Maybe the console just needed some time to process all the new code fully."

Hm. Maybe. But that still didn't explain the disappearance of one character and the appearance of another one you never saw. "Is there anything lying doormat anywhere? Maybe some unfinished code?"

"I did find some unfinished code for what looks like a disregarded bonus level, but nothing like you were talking about. Is there anything specific to look for?"

You hummed. "....Can you find a strand called 'Turbo'?"

"I can try." Cartoon eyes from the roster widened in worry losing his smile as your friend went through the code again for the characters since that's where you first saw this 'Turbo' profile. "Taffyta Muttonfudge. Minty Saki. King Candy-....I don't see any 'Turbo' here, Bud."

Huh. That's really weird. You KNOW you definitely saw that. But- You pointed out the King Candy profile. "I know I didn't add this guy. Where the heck did it come from?"

Again your friend was unhelpful as he shrugged. "It's not coming up as a foreign program so it must've been in the console when you got it. It's probably an unlockable character that you unknowingly brought out during the input of new codes and fixing the bugs. Did you try resetting the console?"

"Yeah. Three times since my Uncle gave it to me."

"Try doing that one more time and see if that fixes it. If not..then I guess the Princess Vanellope code just isn't compatible with the software somehow."

You did as he advised. As soon as he left resetting the game and still feeling disappointed by your princess being gone. You also tried implementing her code only one more time. You completely gave up on that when your laptop blue screened...Again. So you settled for just having a picture of the princess racing in her pink goggles on the side of the game console from there on out. There was only so much your poor laptop could take before it could eventually break from this.

You were frustrated with the stubborn process but you were satisfied with the end result of all your hard work. Sitting down to play the game became a past time of yours outside of the stress from college and irl life. Your friend must've been right about the old motherboard taking it's sweet time to process the code inputted into it. Because now everything was running smoothly and there didn't seem to be anything majorly needing to be fixed. Although you did tweak a few things.

You gave the clouds a more cotton candy appearance during race scenes, and added a glitter sparkle affect to the dust clouds the cars would kick up as they drove along. However you really wanted to add more to that unfinished bonus level code eventually. Maybe adding it as a bonus points thing or something. You hadn't decided yet. 

But you were having fun with the game more than you expected. In fact you were debating on whether or not to give it back to your uncle or just keeping it for yourself as a testament to what you could do! However there was a few things that were weird that you didn't start noticing until after you started enjoying it more.

Despite the reservations you first had with this king character, you eventually got to like him the more you played. He was pretty goofy and an oddball in a good way. And you found yourself giggling at his antics on more than one occasion with his silly poses or funny voice lines. Not the princess you wanted but a king you don't mind having.

 It was nice to unwind and play a silly game and so you invited a friend to play with you. The two of you picked your characters. Him that kid with the pumpkin hat on his head and you decided to choose the goofy looking King Candy. The game was going well and you were surprised to see you win considering your friend was the more experienced gamer but the cute little bouncy jig and laugh tour character did receiving the gold trophy was enough to make you smile.

"Wow. You sure did a good job on the game," he complimented as you both stood up. "I guess everything turned out good in the end anyways."

You nodded. "Yeah. I still wanna finish the unused bonus level though. You wanna see what I got so far?"

He agreed and together you hooked up your computer (praying that it didn't mysteriously blue screen again) and opened it up to show your friend what you had done so far. 

"Wow. You almost got it finished. Have you decided what you're gonna do yet?"

"It's either gonna be a bonus level or I'm gonna add it to the main track as an alternative route to the finish line. I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll add it to where you can earn a bonus trophy from the king or something."

That's when he laughed. "First you didn't like him, but now you do? Wow, Y/n. I didn't know you were into Dilfs.~" He teased you to which you scowled at him and pushed his shoulder as he laughed.

"I am not! Shut up!"

"Or is he more of a foxy grandp-"

"Finish that sentence and you're dead, Bradley!"

"C'mon. It's not my fault you're attracted to older- HEY!!"

He laughed and cackled as you kept slapping at him red faced, causing him to get up and flee to the kitchen with you right behind him. Unbeknownst to all of you a curious ear and pair of eyes had been observing this entire time and was curious as to what this 'dilf' was. Neither of you noticed in your fight your laptop exiting out to Google and 'dilf meaning' being typed into the search bar. 

You only were annoyed with your friend when you came back to a shut off computer, assuming it had turned itself off after not being used for a while, and to the same cutscene of the King still holding the gold trophy... However he looked a little different. He seemed to be staring off at nothing at sudden realization dawned on him, red faced, and half his face hiding halfway behind said trophy. 

"Want to go another round?," you offered changing the subject. 

Bradley laughed. "Sure. Gonna use King Dilf again? Or are you gonna be choosing another?"

You glared at him. "I'm not so you can quick making fun of me now!'

Bradley laughed at you but held up his hands. "I was just joking. But whatever her majesty desires."

"Oh, I'm gonna beat you to the ground!"

Queen huh?

You did end up beating Bradley, but only because his character was knocked off the track by the King Candy character in the background. During the gumball falls part, all he heard was the announcer saying 'POWER UP' and 'SWEET SEEKERS' before you both heard the famous voice line.

"Have thom candy!"

Next thing Bradley knew, his Rancis character was shot by a flaming yellow mini jawbreaker at great speeds and literally knocked off the tracks and out of bounds. Making him groan at the high pitched laugh King Candy gave as he drove past and you made your way to the cherry bomb cake. In the end you still lost but you felt satisfied with knowing that you were avenged in the end even though the NPC had no clue what transpired. After all he was just a video game character. 

"I'll see you later, Brad. Hope the jester knows not to make fun of the king now."

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled exhausted at his own joke being thrown back to him. "I'll see you Monday. Make sure you get some sleep before classes tonight will ya?"

"I will. Don't worry about it."

Waving goodbye to him, you closed the door before turning around and stretching out with a yawn. Yeah. It was probably time you got some sleep. Walking past the game console you smiled at it and patted it's side.

"Y'know..I think I'll keep you after all. You're pretty fun to play with."

You turned to start walking towards your bedroom-

"TURBOTASTIC!!"

You jumped at the sudden voice as before turning back to the game's screen. Nothing but the characters posing with frozen fake smiles stared back at you as you blinked... before turning around and rubbing your face.

"I need to get more sleep."

[thecodelab]

Jump into Online Coding and Create Fun Projects from Anywhere!

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[ikiprian]

Barbara Gordon's Coding & Computer Cram School is a popular YouTube series. Tucker Foley is a star student.

Barbara Gordon's Cram School posts free online courses for both coding and computer engineering. Think Crash Course in terms of entertainment, but college lecture in terms of depth. Hundreds of thousands of viewers flock to it— students who missed a class, people looking to add new skills to a resume, even simple hobbyists. It’s a project Barbara’s proud of.

Sometimes, when she wants to relax, she’ll even hop in the comments and spend an afternoon troubleshooting a viewer’s project with them.

User “Fryer-Tuck” has especially interesting ones. Barbara finds herself seeking out his comments, checking in on whatever this crazy kid is making next. An app for collecting GPS pings and assembling them on a map in real-time, an algorithm that connects geographic points to predict something’s movement taking a hundred other variables into account, simplified versions of incredibly complex homemade programs so they can run on incredibly limited CPU’s.

(Barbara wants to buy the kid a PC. It seems he’s got natural talent, but he keeps making reference to a PDA. Talk about 90’s! This guy’s hardware probably predates his birth.)

She chats with him more and more, switching to less public PM threads, and eventually, he opens up. His latest project, though, is not something Barbara has personal experience with.

FT: so if you found, hypothetically, a mysterious glowing substance that affects tech in weird and wacky ways that could totally have potential but might be vaguely sentient/otherworldly…. what would you do and how would you experiment with it. safely, of course. and hypothetically

BG: I’d make sure all my tests were in disposable devices and quarantined programs to keep it from infecting my important stuff. Dare I ask… how weird and wacky is it?

FT: uhhh. theoretically, a person composed of this substance once used it to enter a video game. like physical body, into the computer, onto the screen? moving around and talking and fighting enemies within the game?

FT: its been experimented with before, but not on any tech with a brain. just basic shields and blasters and stuff, its an energy source. also was put in a car once

FT: i wanna see how it affects software, yk? bc i already know it can. mess around and see how far i can push it

BG: […]

FT: … barbara?

BG: Sorry, thinking. Would you mind sharing more details? You said “blasters?”

Honestly. Kid genius with access to some truly wacky materials and even wackier weapons, she needs to start a file on him before he full sends to either hero or villain.

[OR: Tucker is a self-taught hacker, but if he were to credit a teacher, he'd name Barbara Gordon's Coding & Computer Cram School! He's even caught the attention of Dr. Gordon herself. She's full of sage advice, and with how she preaches the value of a good VPN, he's sure she's not pro-government. Maybe she'll help him as he studies the many applications of ecto-tech!]

[shallowseeker]

Cas is right. Dean, with all of his free will intact, would NOT have murdered the Stynes kid.

Like Cas, with his free will intact, would never have murdered Samandriel.

Their assessments of one another are actually correct.

///

Both are on their way to becoming mindless super-soldiers who feel nothing.

And essentially, they tell each other, "you're gonna have to go through me" (to become that).

///

Some similarities in the fight scenes:

They both reach out a hand to the other's shoulder, saying the other's name:

///

Both twist the other's hand away:

///

They ask each other to: "Stop," both telling the other in so many words that "this isn't you."

Their styles differ, of course. Dean goads Cas defiantly: "Come on you coward, do it!" Cas tries to remain level-headed and controlled, only moving to block and restrain.

Essentially, their desires are the same, for the other to stop.

///

With everyone telling them who they should be, and trying to make them into things other than what their big hearts would actually want, they beg each other to stay as they are.

I don't want you to be what they want you to be.

Just be you. Just be.

///

///

And then, much like Cas in the crypt... flight. Cas leaves.

Dean leaves.

///

And here's what's on my mind... They were both GOOD at being soldiers. Unbelievably good.

Their talents were recognized early and exploited. They became chained to their respective battle aptitudes.

Both had to reckon with becoming addicted to war, to the feeling of adrenaline and black-and-white causes (see: Purgatory, hunting, etc.). Both often feel too much responsibility, punishing themselves and undertaking penance.

They struggled with thinking it's all they were good for, battle or WORK.

Or worse. For Dean, it was often being one of the "crazy ones," only "good for a fling." For Cas, it was often "being expendable."

They're looked down upon by the likes of Metatron: Cas is like a "dumb puppy," a "stupid, lumbering jock." Even Crowley talks to Dean this way on occasion: "It's math (idiot)."

It's also like when Death calls Cas a "stupid soldier." Or when the British Men of Letters call the ones on the ground doing the fighting and getting their hands dirty "dogs." Or when Henry calls hunters "apes."

Despite their supposed "legacy lineage," Sam and Dean inherited the Campbell class. The soldier class.

Interesting to me that Jack inherits this, too. Despite his aptitude for nearly everything he touches (computers, research, even blossoming machete skills when he kills Noah the Gorgon), Jack too will inherit this Campbell-coded "stupidity."

That's what Chuck charges him with in Unity: "TOO STUPID."

Jack has Cas and Dean's class: the soldier class.

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 6

Masterpost

"I'm telling you, Fenton!" Wes announces. "I'm onto you." A few of the kids walking past snicker at them, as Danny does his best to look confused. The startled part is easy; Wes is turning out to be a surprisingly good actor. He's been gradually leaning even harder to the image of a conspiracy nut, and the result is impressive. Danny, on the other hand, is simply trying to keep up with the insanity.

"I have literally no clue what you're talking about, dude." Danny says, attempting to push past Wes, so he can enter their classroom. Wes doesn't seem inclined to let this confrontation end, though.

"You may have everybody else fooled, but I know the truth. You made a pact with the so-called ghosts and their efforts to take over our world. You're just manipulating your parents' tech in order to convince everyone that they actually are ghosts, and not the invading fae army they really are!"

"Dude, what?" Danny responds, not quite able to hold back the laugh.

"Honestly, Wes, don't you have any common sense?" Star asks, as she walks up. "Rumor has it that Fenton's failing like half his classes, and you think a bunch of fae lords, or whatever would trust him to help their scheme? Surely they'd choose someone more competent." She flips her hair, and then walks past the both of them, as a couple of the kids nearest to them start snickering.

Outwardly, Danny winces and hunches in on himself a little more, as he takes the opening Star just created and ducks into the classroom after her.

In hallway outside, Danny catches Wes muttering to himself before following them in. No one says anything for a minute, but the moment the bell rings and Mr Lancer shuts the door, Star turns to Wes.

"I think you should be a writer or something after we get out of here." Star tells him. "That theory was honestly inspired."

"It gets even better. I have so much evidence to force on you guys, it'll be great." Wes answers, then turns to Danny. "You good? I know we don't mean any of it, but it's still gotta suck to have us acting like assholes all the time."

"I mean," Danny hums. "I'm not gonna say it's fun? But like honestly compared to everything else, dissing my work kinda seems..."

"Banal?" Sam offers.

"Yeah, sure, that." Danny nods. "Like, compared to people wanting me dead, who cares, I guess."

"Yikes," Kwan mutters. "Your life is a fucking mess, dude."

"Well, i do have some good news about that." Tucker announces, turning his computer to face everyone else. "Looks like the fanbase is making some progress towards finding the real stuff.

Danny stares at the reddit thread Tucker is on. He's honestly been only loosely paying attention to the actual stuff Tucker and Wes have been posting. He's happy to offer his knowledge of space stuff, or engineering, but the intricacies of secret code aren't really something he ever pursued. Well, except for the secret language he and Tucker had made as kids. Wes, on the other hand, peers at the screen and lets out a soft whoop.

"Hell yeah! They found the second layer!"

"Yeah. Which means they've found our first plea for help."

"Oh, wow," Sam says sardonically. "A plea for help that's so great. Why are they gonna think it's anything other than another part of the damn story."

"Chill out, Sam," Tucker responds. "The point is to encourage them to look harder. And once they find the next level, they'll start finding our info on the infinite realms."

"Whatever," Sam says, frowning. "I just... Don't like how much waiting this involves."

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if we could just, like, beat them up and call it good," Dash agrees. "But, like, jail would probably suck."

"At least they're making progress," Danny points out. "I don't really get how you guys are making these layers, but. It's more progress than anything else we've tried."

"Yeah, but like, what does this mean for us?"

"Why not interact directly with that post?"

"Maybe. We'd have to be extra careful about what and how we say it, so they don't write us off as a copycat or anything, but it could serve to reinforce, uh-" Wes leans in, to read the username. "BenBlues379's theory."

"Okay then, let's draft a reply." Danny zones out as they start to discuss the specifics. He hadn't actually had to go deal with any ghosts last night, but his parents had been working on some new invention, and the noise of their trials had made sure he didn't get much sleep despite the supposed reprieve. Luckily, nobody in this class is going to complain if he takes the opportunity to catch up on the missed shut-eye now, so with one last deep breath, Danny folds himself down onto his and relaxes into sleep, as the sounds of his classmates debating echoes around him.

[kwetuhub1]

Give your child a head start in the tech industry with online coding courses. Read on to learn why they are essential for kids at KwetuHub.