#Trump thinks we’re laughing with him

[isawthismeme]

He can pretend people laughing at him are laughing with him, but there’s no way to flip the script on booing and jeering. Let’s do more of that.

Democrats 👀👀👀👀

[pitviperofdoom]

High School Time Travelers, Part 2

It's finally here! Follow up to this story.

***

“So. Spill. What the fuck is going on with you and Angelique?”

Raph fidgeted uncomfortably, and something within Erin roared out in protest at that. They were in her room, surrounded by her clutter and band posters and the stuff he kept at her house to keep his mom from throwing it away. He wasn’t supposed to be uncomfortable here.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I time-traveled last night.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said wearily. “I woke up in a house I haven’t set foot in for years, across the hall from someone I promised myself I’d never talk to again. It happened, and if you’re stuck on that part then this conversation can’t continue.”

Erin got up and paced her room, kicking aside her backpack, nearly knocking over the guitar stand in the corner. “What the fuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What the fuck, Raph.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

The absurdity hit her instantly—he didn’t mean to time travel, as if they were talking about him forgetting his homework or getting in Monica Dillon’s way during passing period. She wanted to laugh.

But then she remembered some of the weird things Angelique had said—about friendships imploding, about college, about shit not mattering in high school, all with the easy certainty of experience.

“Prove it,” she said. “Can you do that thing where you predict what I’m about to say?”

“I’m not stuck in a time loop, dumbass, yesterday I was thirty-three!” Raph snapped. “I had to go through math class trying to pretend I still remembered my teacher’s name!”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Erin held up her hands placatingly. “There’s gotta be something.”

Raph sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I dunno. Anything meaningful and unchangeable I can remember won’t happen for a while, so if you’re willing to wait for the Trump presidency or the global pandemic, there’s that.”

“The what.”

“Wait, who’s president right now? It’s still Bush, right?”

Erin pulled a face.

“Next one’s Barack Obama, he’s gonna do two terms,” Raph informed her. “First black president.”

“Oh, huh. Cool,” Erin said faintly.

“Let’s see, what else, um… Balloon Boy? Has Balloon Boy happened yet?”

“No, what the fuck is Balloon Boy?”

Raph brightened. “Yeah, so at some point this family is gonna release like, a homemade weather balloon? Or something? And there’s gonna be this huge panic because they think their son is stuck inside it, but then it turns out he was fine and hiding in the basement the whole time and it was a hoax.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for that I guess?” Erin sat down again. “You’re seriously not fucking with me right now?”

“I mean, if you want, we could forget this conversation ever happened,” Raph offered. “Continue with our normal lives, while I keep under-reacting to devastating world events.”

“Christ, I don’t know.” Erin pressed her palms into her eyes. After a moment, she lifted her head again. “Wait a minute, we’re getting off track. What does this have to do with Angelique?”

Raph’s silence could not have been louder.

“Raph,” Erin said, a little desperately.

“First you have to promise you won’t be mad,” said Raph.

“Did you sleep with her in the—” Erin paused to do some arithmetic in her head. “—eighteen years between then and now?!”

“She’s my wife,” Raph blurted out.

Moments later, Erin’s mother knocked politely on the bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?” she asked. “That’s an awful lot of screaming for a Tuesday night.”

Erin continued howling into her pillow. “She’s fine, Mrs. Yokota!” Raph called. “We’re looking at—uh—creepypastas!”

“Creepy what?”

“Uh—crap, are they still called that?—like, ghost stories and stuff!”

Placated, she left them to it. Eventually Erin recovered enough to lie back and stare listlessly at the ceiling.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck is your life?” Erin demanded. “How did that even happen?”

“We ran into each other at—so my friend Hazel got roped into being in their college roommate’s bridal party and dragged me along for moral support, and Angelique was in the same friend group but with like six degrees of separation from us,” Raph explained. “It took half the reception for her to recognize me because at that point I’d been on T for a few years, but the second she realized we went to the same high school she turned fishbelly-white, pulled me aside, and apologized for how much of a bitch she was back then. It was really awkward.”

Back then, he called it, even though for Erin it was still right now. “And you married her?”

“Like eight years later, yeah.” Raph ran his hand through his hair, not quite hiding the small smile that stole over his face. “She really turned over a new leaf.”

Erin was silent for a while, mulling over this new information, combining it with what she already had from that afternoon.

“Is your name still Raphael?” she asked. “She sounded really surprised about it. And I know you said you were just taking the name on a trial run, but you really seemed to like it. Not that there’s—you know,” she added. “I know that—just because I picked it, I knew you might not… you know. It’s fine, I was just wondering. If I should call you something else.”

“I did—I do like it,” Raph assured her. “But, uh, some stuff happened. My dad found me.”

Erin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Wait, really? What’d he have to say for himself?”

“That Mom ghosted him when she got pregnant because her side guy had more money.”

“Dude, fuck your mom.”

“Don’t fuck my mom, she’ll ghost you for money, weren’t you listening?”

Erin burst out snickering. “Fuck, sorry, this isn’t funny.”

“It will be in eighteen years,” Raph said with a wry smile. “Hindsight. Anyway, he found me in—he’s gonna find me in two years unless I reach out first. He’s a good guy. My stepmom’s pretty cool, too. And I have sisters? So that’s awesome. And yeah, he had this friend who passed away when he was younger, and he always wanted to name his son after him, but then Mom disappeared and he only ended up having daughters, so when he found me, it kind of worked out.” He hesitated. “I’m Damian. Damian Raphael Harker.”

“That’s such a cool name,” Erin sighed.

Raph—Damian—tilted his head back to grin at her. “Yours is cool, too.”

“Shut up,” she said fondly.

“No, seriously,” he said emphatically. “Your name is unspeakably cool.”

There was something odd in his tone, sticking up and catching like a loose nail. It bothered her, the same way something Angelique said earlier had bothered her.

“Hey, Ra—Damian?” Erin said cautiously. “Earlier, when Angelique sat down with us, she didn’t recognize me.”

“She does, don’t worry.”

“No, she didn’t,” Erin pressed. “It took her a second to realize who I was, and she stopped herself from saying why.”

Suddenly Damian looked deeply uncomfortable. “I, uh.”

She took a deep breath. “Was I dead in your time?”

“Wh-no! No no no no, of course not!” Damian looked horrified. “We played Pathfinder like last week, you’re not dead.”

“What’s Path—no, never mind. Something’s clearly up. If we just played whatever-that-is last week, and Angelique is your wife, then why didn’t she know who I was?”

“Uh…” Damian’s hands had worked their way deep into his sleeves. “You look different, that’s all. You kind of reinvented yourself in college.”

“Oh,” Erin said, momentarily relieved. Then— “Wait.”

“What?’

“Damian. You’d—” She hesitated. “If I was a guy, you’d tell me, right?’

“Oh my God,” Damian mumbled into his be-sweatered hands.

“Damian.”

“You’re... not...”

“You’d tell me, right?”

“See, I don’t know if I would!” Damian answered, in a strained high-pitched tone. “That’s—look. If you were a guy, that’s something you’d have to work out for yourself!”

“Damian, I swear to God.”

“I can’t crack your egg for you, that’s like violating the Prime Directive!”

Erin seized a pillow and started to buffet him with it. “You are such a nerd!”

“It’s your personal journey, you can’t use me to cheat!” Damian cackled, fending her off with a plush horse.

***

“Yeah I’ll get the banana split.” Angie bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes raking over the array of toppings. “Can you put caramel and chocolate sauce on it? And Heath bar pieces, chopped strawberries, and M&Ms.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

It took all of her self-control not to press her nose against the glass as she watched them make it. Some small part of her balked at the sight of three huge scoops of ice cream and all the toppings, but she quieted it. She had a second shot at being a teenager, and that meant never taking her garbage disposal stomach and body made of rubber bands for granted ever again.

She hummed absently to herself, only to pause halfway through the tune. How did it go again? She tried repeating the first half, only to get stuck at the same spot. Oh, this was going to bug the crap out of her. It wasn’t like she could look it up, not when the song wouldn’t come out for almost ten years—

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she checked it absentmindedly, zeroing in for a moment on the DAD displayed on the screen. After a moment, she put it back without answering. If it was that important, he could text.

Sure enough, her phone gave a short buzz. New text message—he hadn’t even bothered to leave a voicemail.

DADI need you to talk to your brother.

Angie checked her banana split’s progress with a glance, and replied.

lol why

DADHe’s not listening to me. We both know the courts favor the mother so if we’re going to beat her I need both of you on your A game.

Angie ground her teeth until her jaw creaked.

what do you need me to do

DADJust coach him on how to talk about her. You’re a smart lady, I know you can do it. He’s always getting scuffed up at practice, just have him say the bruises came from her. Throw in a drinking problem if you have to, just keep your stories straight.

why father dearest i’m surprised at youyou want me to lie under oath?

DADJust talk to him, will you? Keep your stories straight, don’t get too outlandish, and we’ll get out of this with everything we want. You’ll never have to hear the word no again, I promise.

ok daddy ill do my best!

DADGood girl. You’re the smartest girl I know. Smarter than your mom, smarter than her bitch lawyer. Love you!

“Order up!”

Angie brought her banana split to the table with the clearest view of the door. It took her a moment to decide how to begin, then nearly a full minute balancing equal parts ice cream, banana, and toppings in a single spoonful. She managed it in the end.

Mood lifted, she unlocked her phone again and made a call. “Heeeey, Anika.”

“Need I remind you that phone calls are billable,” her mother’s lawyer said dryly.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, I have some incriminating text messages I think you’ll be interested in?”

The sound of rustling papers paused. “Go on…?”

“Dad just told me to lie to the judge,” Angie explained, twirling a thin ribbon of caramel around her spoon. “And to coach Eric to lie to the judge. I took screenshots.”

Anika cursed softly under her breath. “Thank you for telling me. Send them to your mom, okay? Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The bell above the ice cream parlor door jingled, and Angie perked up as both Damian (Raph?) and Erin walked in. She waved them over, grinning when both pairs of eyes widened at her treat.

“That thing’s half the size of your head,” Erin pointed out.

“Sure is, you guys came just in time.” Angie nudged it across the table, along with the two extra spoons. “If we split it, I’ll have enough room for a milkshake chaser.”

“You’re a monster,” Damian said delightedly. “Oh shit, are those Heath bars?” He dug in without waiting for an answer.

“They’re peanut butter cups,” she said solemnly, once he’d taken a bite and could probably tell they weren’t. “I added them just to hurt you.” Damian rolled his eyes and dug his spoon back in.

Erin stared at her, probably still baffled by the gentle banter, but at least she looked more curious than infuriated, like instead of being suspicious she simply didn’t know what to make of Angie.

“So, you guys talked?” Angie asked carefully. “Are we… all good?”

“I think so,” Damian replied, shooting a cautious glance at Erin.

“You’re on thin ice,” Erin informed her as she helped herself to the chocolate scoop.

“Fair.” Angie didn’t remember Erin putting up quite as much of a fight, but then, it had been years when they’d reconnected before. This time around, it was still fresh.

“The ice cream helps,” Erin added, slightly muffled by the spoon in her mouth.

“Noted.” Angie paused, weighed her options, and shrugged. No harm no foul, probably. “Hey, you’re a musician, right?”

Erin swallowed. “Yeah, why?”

“And not just a performer, but you write music too, right?”

“Yeeaaah?” Erin squinted suspiciously. Beside her, Damian shot Angie a warning glare.

“If I give you half a tune, could you resolve it?”

Erin was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “Probably.”

“Great!” Angie hummed the earworm from earlier. “How would the next part go?”

Erin repeated it to herself, nodding along. After a moment, she said, “Probably like—”

And sure enough, there it was. The rest of the chorus’s tune came rushing back to Angie’s memory, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks! That was driving me nuts.” Angie returned to her banana split, ignoring Damian’s growing scowl.

Later, when Erin was in the bathroom and  Angelique was standing in line to order her promised milkshake, Damian dug his elbow into her side. “You’re not as slick as you think you are,” he muttered.

“What?” Angie said innocently. “I didn’t give anything away.”

“You just taught her half the chorus of a song she’s eight years away from writing!”

“I’ve planted a seed,” Angie insisted. “I’ve created a stable time loop.”

“That is not what you did and you know it.” Damian pursed his lips, clearly trying to stay annoyed with her. “I barely avoided spoiling her transition, and that’s after she asked me to my face.”

Angie grinned. “So you haven’t told her she’s a genderfluid punk rocker yet?”

“No. Because she’s not a genderfluid punk rocker yet.”

“And now, when she becomes one,” Angie said with a smile, “she’s going to look back on this day and laugh.”

[thefunkfactory]

The Orders

Wyatt and his boyfriend Tate were watching the 2020 election results on TV as they cuddled together on the couch. They both believed that the election would be a landslide for the Democrats but after they had dozed off they had heard a loud announcement from the news anchor waking them both up, “It’s official! Donald Trump will continue serving this country as President of the United States of America!”. A sense of dread came over the two, “How could this have happened?” Wyatt sorrowfully asked, Tate just sat there in silence and held Wyatt closer.

Over the next few months life stayed practically the same even though Trump was acting like a dictator, all news channels were banned minus FoxNews and other right wing stations, Trump forcibly created the 28th Amendment which repealed the 22nd Amendment making it so that term limits vanished, and he had somehow managed to make it so that one of his children would take the Presidency if he ever stepped down or died. One day as the boyfriends were making dinner together the TV, which was playing the news for some background noise, ran a segment that sent chills down their backs. “Trump just declared that homosexuality is now criminalized in the United States of America. All homosexuals must go to their nearest police station and turn themselves in, immediately”. Hearing this they knew that they had to flee the country as soon as they could. Running to the bedroom Wyatt began packing up a suitcase for both him and Tate. While his boyfriend was rushing to pack in the bedroom Tate heard a knock at the door, he looked through the peephole and saw police officers standing on the other side of the door. “wyatt! what do we do? there are police at our front door!” Tate whispered to Wyatt after he ran to the bedroom. “ummm uhhhh I dont know!” Wyatt said fearfully as he heard a louder and more aggressive knock at their door. The two boys decided to hide in their own apartment and wait until the police hopefully leave.

The knocking continued until eventually they heard an officer yell at the other police officers “Alright thats it!” Thinking this meant the coast was clear Tate got out from under the bed even though Wyatt begged him not to. “Babe it’s fine they are leaving, didn’t you hear them?” Tate said to calm down his worried boyfriend. Tate walked out of the bedroom and into the living room when suddenly the front door was kicked in, “OH SHIT” Tate yelled out. Tate tried to flee but he heard a voice from the front door yell “THERE’S ONE! GET HIM!”. Before Tate could take more than two steps, 3 police officers ran in and took him down to the ground. Two held down his arms flat on the ground and one officer who was especially buff held down Tates legs. Tate heard someone slowly stepping into the apartment. He watched as this big, masculine police officer, obviously the leader of this mission, stepped over Tate’s restrained body. “What do you wan-?” Tate was cut off as the officer began to monologue, “Know what I hate? I’ll tell you what I hate, I hate people who bring down this beautiful country we have. It’s a shame that you were able to be such a stain on this great nation for so long, but now that Trump has given the orders, you and your…friendsss” the officer made a disgusted face as he said that last part “Well you all won't be a problem anymore”. “FUCK YOU!” Tate proclaimed with fire in his eyes. “Hahah awwww it’s cute when they have this much fire in ‘em it makes it so much more fun to see it drainnnnnn out” The 3 other police officers all laughed in sync, the same monotone laugh. The officer standing over Tate looked annoyed “We’re still working out their old personalities, these ones were fixed early this morning as soon as we got the order. Whoever made them “better” didn’t do the procedure right so we had to wipe their minds and start fresh.” The officer rolled his eyes. Tate was puzzled and asked “What do you mean “fixed”?”. “Huhuhuh oh buddy you really don’t know do ya? Police and Military across the nation have been given these” The officer held up a baggie with a bunch of red pills that looked like M&M’s and shook it, “to get rid of the gayness plaguing this nation. Some of my officers gave them to your “friends” this morning but they came out…wrong” As he said that he placed his right palm down on one the officer’s head who was holding down Tate’s arm. “This dumbass and the idiot behind me used to be a gross married couple. Good thing my men got to them before they could indoctrinate some kid or something” Said the officer standing above Tate. “No…no what did you do to them?!” Tate cried, “Oh don’t worry my dumb little gay boy, you’ll see”

Wyatt, with his hands clasped around his mouth, watched as the officer above Tate pulled a little red pill out of the baggie he held up earlier. He squatted down and pulled apart Tate’s clenched mouth and forced him to swallow the red pill. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend began to seize on the floor as the 3 other officers continued to hold him down. Wyatt was forced to watch as his boyfriend’s hair became shorter, thinner, and lighter, his fluffy brown hair had just dissolved into the dirty blonde mop now on his head. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend’s face gained some softer features, a rounded nose, a soft round jaw, but his brow bone became more prominent and his lips grew thinner. His boyfriend stopped shaking and calmed down but was now making animalistic grunts every few seconds. It was obvious he was trying to resist whatever was going on in his head. The officer looked down at Tate and saw that no progress had been made past his head, “Tsk I hate having to do this, you should just give into the right side”. The officer untied his boot and took it off, he gave it a whiff and recoiled his head “Oooof huhuh you’re in for it now!” the officer swatted over Tate and placed the boot right over his nose and mouth. Wyatt heard his boyfriend’s animalistic grunts get louder as the boot approached but as soon as it covered his face the grunts died down, becoming sparser than they were before the boot was lowered. This is when the real changes happened, Tate’s arms began to bulk up and his already hairless armpits stayed that way but still being able to proudly pump out pungent B.O., his chest grew two soft pillows as his pecs exploded with muscle. Tate’s stomach stayed lean while gaining some muscle and his thighs began to get girthier and girthier. Tate began to grunt loudly as he tried to push off the mindless officers holding him down, the officer who had been in charge of all of this removed the shoe and mockingly said “Awww you were doing soooo good.” He grabbed another red pill and forced it down Tate’s throat.

Tate quieted down quickly as his body continued transforming. Tate felt his ass twitch and tingle when suddenly it ballooned up like a life raft and was now a nice soft cushion. His legs grew a nice layer of hair that spread to his newly minted ass cheeks. Lastly Tate’s feet began to expand, “Ooooo this is the best part!” the officer in charge proclaimed. Tate’s feet grew bigger and meatier, a soft wafting stink began to float off of them which quickly evolved into a rotten smell of pungent cheese. Wyatt watched as his sweet sensitive boyfriend was left a sweaty and smelly mess on the ground. The officer said to himself, “Time to clear out his block, gotta make sure we get all that homo stuff out”. The officer bent down and placed his hand into his own armpit and then proceeded to place his hand right under Tate’s car, “Yea…smell that manly stink. Thats what you smell like now. You are a stinky, straight jock; nothing more, nothing less.” Tate began to grunt even more animalistic now but it wasn’t him trying to escape…Tate was moaning… Tate was thrusting the air and flip flopping between moaning and grunting as the officer continued his speech about Tate’s new form. Tate kept going and going until a wet spot appeared in the sweatpants Tate was wearing.

He was gone, sweet, innocent Tate, the guy who would always go along with the love of his life, Wyatt, the guy who accepted everyone, the guy who was a proud gay guy, all of that was now just a damp stain in his sweatpants, right in the crotch region. The officers turned the TV station to an obscure channel no-one would flop to on their own, it was just a looping video of a hypnotic spiral. It taught important truths about how evil gay people are and how much better it is to be straight as an arrow, and now Tate’s mushy, brain-drained mind was being forced to watch it. The officers stayed in the apartment for an hour as Tate was indoctrinated into the Republican party, the entire time Wyatt kept hidden under the bed. Once the officers left, Wyatt emerged and saw Tate still staring at the spiral and drooling, the officers had left him to sit through the spiral even longer than he needed to. As drool dribbled down his chin, Wyatt couldn’t help but feel awful for the smelly himbo that used to be his boyfriend. He grabbed a tissue and went up to the brainless giant to wipe away the drool when suddenly Tate looked at his and said “What do you think YOU are doing GAY BOY?!” his breath reeked something awful and Wyatt tried to back away. “Nah come here bro!” Tate lifted his armpit and grabbed Wyatts head and forced him deep into his noxious B.O. factory…

To Be Continued…

[solarmorrigan]

Romance, Commitment, and Cake

For the @steddie-spooktober day 15 prompt: Baking Rated: T | Words: 733 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington can cook, or bake at least, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has always loved fall. He loves the way the world turns colors as the leaves begin to change, he loves how it gets cooler and he can wear his layers of jackets without feeling like he wants to die, he loves all the poetic themes of death and change, he loves Halloween. In more recent years, however, he’s learned to love fall because that’s when Steve starts baking like a man possessed, and doesn’t stop until the new year.

He doesn’t bother holding in the moan that wants to work its way out at the first bite of the pumpkin cheesecake Steve has presented him with. It’s perfect; creamy and light, the sweet and the spice blending and melting on his tongue. Eddie thinks he might actually need a moment alone with the cheesecake.

“Good?” Steve asks with a knowing little grin as he washes bowls in the sink.

“Marry me,” Eddie groans the moment he’s swallowed his mouthful.

Steve snorts out a little laugh. “We’re already married,” he reminds Eddie, holding up his sudsy left hand to show off the gold wedding band glinting there.

“This time it would be different,” Eddie says, taking a moment to get in another bite of cheesecake. “Last time I married you because you’re sweet, and you’re sharp, and you’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and because I love you. This time I’d be marrying you for your baking.”

“Man, don’t be shy, tell it to me like it is,” Steve says drily, but there’s a pleased, pink flush high on his cheeks.

“Just being honest with you, baby,” Eddie says with a grin before tucking back into his slice of cake.

“You know,” Steve says slowly, eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, “our anniversary is coming up. Five years.”

“Mhm?” Eddie hums around another mouthful.

“We can’t get married again, but we could… renew our vows, maybe.” There’s such a studied nonchalance to the suggestion that Eddie wonders if Steve hadn’t already been thinking about it.

And it’s a little funny that the idea of holding another ceremony, of putting on a suit and standing up and pouring his heart out in front of a group of people, of spending the day trading pleasantries and pretending to be at least halfway civil only produces happy little butterflies instead of the disdain it once would have.

Eddie had never gone in for romantic conformity, never thought marriage as a social convention was worth shit. He’d scorned the idea of perfect little white weddings, of the elitism and the privilege and the inherent heteronormativity. Marriage was a trumped-up gimmick made to sell needlessly expensive things to gullible couples with more money than sense.

And then he’d met Steve.

Steve, who had rocked the foundation of Eddie’s way of looking at the world; Steve, who Eddie loves more than anything; Steve, who loves romance, even if he won’t say as much out loud; Steve, who Eddie had proposed to, because he’d wanted to claim him and show him off to the world in as many ways as possible, wanted everyone to know that no matter which way they look at it that Steve is with him.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Steve says when Eddie’s been quiet a moment too long. “We could just have a small party; family and friends.” He gives Eddie a sidelong glance. “I could make a cake.”

“A cake, huh?” Eddie asks, biting down on a sly smile as he puts his empty plate down on the counter and sidles up to Steve at the sink. “What kind of cake?”

“Any kind of cake you want,” Steve says, looking back up at Eddie with eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me for my baking, after all. Only seems right you should choose.”

Eddie hums, moving around behind Steve and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ve convinced me, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crook of Steve’s neck. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve cranes his head around to look at Eddie, showing off the luminous smile lighting his face.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, leaning into Steve a little further. “Lemme tell everyone how much I love you all over again.”

The way Steve practically melts against Eddie is worth all the pomp and ceremony in the world, Eddie thinks.

(But the promise of cake doesn’t hurt.)

[contemplatingoutlander]

RFK Jr. to head newly formed Department of Disease Efficiency

We mistakenly thought that finding a dead mouse in your frozen ravioli dinner was a failure.

WaPo satirist Alexandra Petri slices and dices Trump's new HHS appointment of RFK, Jr. This is a gift🎁link, so you can read the entire article. I suppose it is better to laugh at the absurdity of it all than to cry.🤷🏻‍♀️ Below are some excerpts. Enjoy! 😁

Well, President-elect Donald Trump has picked Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as the new head of the Department of Health and Human Services. “He wants to do some things and we’re going to let him go to it,” Trump said. “Go have a good time, Bobby.” Everyone who is an HHS employee and is not the measles virus: You are on notice! We’re taking this department in a new direction! Measles, stand back and stand by. It’s about to be your time. We’re doing our best to give the people what they want. For many years we thought what they wanted was clean drinking water, safe and tested vaccines to drive down deaths from childhood diseases, and food that is produced in sanitary conditions so the people who eat it don’t get sick. But we were wrong, and the change starts now. Similarly, we mistakenly thought that finding a dead mouse in your frozen ravioli dinner was a shock. Now, we know better. It’s a surprise! People love surprises. People love danger! Our ancestors didn’t stare down death every time they went out to hunt and eat food that had not been subject to Food and Drug Administration inspection so we wouldn’t have to stare down death every day as we went out to buy food that has not been subject to FDA inspection. You want to consume a can of beans and live? TOUGH LUCK! THIS IS DONALD TRUMP’S AMERICA! In light of this, and of the nomination of RFK Jr. as our leader, we at the Department of Health and Human Services are announcing a rebrand as the Department of Disease Efficiency. Given our new mandate to root out expertise wherever it might lurk and replace it with Something That Came To RFK Jr. In A Dream Once, we felt it was proper to release “Health” and “Human Services” back into the wild, where maybe RFK Jr. can hunt them down with his falcon and eat them before they have undergone an FDA inspection. Look, most Americans are not equipped to test food safety or vaccine safety on their own. And that’s because, unwisely, we have delegated these tasks to the FDA. It’s time we gave them back to the people. Every citizen should learn to inspect his own meat, like the Founders did. George Washington (who apparently only had one real tooth left at the end of his life) did not drink fluoridated water. Abraham Lincoln (one of whose children actually made it to adulthood!) never gave his children safe, routine childhood vaccinations. Franklin D. Roosevelt (who had polio) had polio. It’s time we went back to that. Now is not the time to rest on our laurels. Now is the time to throw our laurels away. We’re going to think outside the box. For too long, our ideas have been limited to “things medical professionals recommend” and we have mistakenly viewed each death as a disgrace and failure. Now, it’s time to abandon that hidebound, old-fashioned thinking. Maybe disease is an ally, not an enemy! Maybe we can attract a new consumer, someone who is as excited as RFK Jr. is to wonder if water is turning children gay. [...] Finally, we can declare victory in the long, bitter war against lifesaving human innovations like pasteurization and the polio vaccine! I don’t know why we want to declare victory in this war, but I guess it’s what we’re doing.

[syllvane]

beginnings pt 3 - nikolai lantsov x reader

“You’re settling in better than I thought you would.”

You turned around from where you were checking some knots, looking at Sturmhond.

You went back to your work quickly, not giving yourself the opportunity to look at him any longer than necessary.

Perhaps the second most frustrating thing about this whole ordeal, besides the fact that you had been completely cut off from the Crows, is that he was in fact more handsome than you had given him credit for, when he was playing warden and you, Jesper, and Kaz prisoner.

He was gorgeous and you hated him for it, if only because that was an easier option than taking a nuanced look at your feelings.

“You were the one who invited me to join your crew, did you not think I would settle in good then?”

“Yes, well I wouldn’t say that you voluntarily joined the crew.”

“And if I had joined when I was in handcuffs, that would’ve been voluntary?”

“Give yourself some credit, you had already broken out of the handcuffs by then,” He said and you looked at him to see him already smiling at you.

You shook your head in disbelief, but couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“I am truly sorry, that we couldn’t bring you back to Ketterdam. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it’s-”

“I know. Sun Summoner gathering amplifiers and tearing down the Fold trumps returning me to my friends.” You said, tugging at one last knot and, satisfied, turning to him. “What about you? What’s your interest in tearing down the Fold?”

His face shifted into an expression that you hadn’t seen yet in your several days aboard the Volkvynk, his eyes trying to peer into your mind.

“There’s a lot of money to be made.“

You scoffed, the obvious lie sitting in between the two of you. He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m familiar with men who think that the only sacred thing in this world is profit. You’re not one of them.” You said, watching the careful, guarded expression on his face. “You’re doing this because you care about Ravka. Because you’re a good person, underneath all the charm and sarcasm and wit.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards.

“Careful, that sounded an awful lot like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t. Just an observation.”

“You’re quite good at this.” He said, motioning around you. “Sailing, I mean, not observations.”

You rolled your eyes.

“My parents taught me a little bit when I was younger, before they died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. I never knew them enough to miss them.” You said simply. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re having a conversation and I’m oversharing.”

He laughed slightly before looking out over the horizon, a faraway, distant look in his eyes.

“My name- my real name, is Nikolai Lantsov. My crew knows, the Sun Summoner doesn’t. It’s not something I usually advertise.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” You said, holding your thoughts close to your chest. “All of this, Stumhond, the Volkvolny, is to help Ravka.”

“That’s what I’m hoping, anyways.” He said, still looking off into the horizon.

You looked at him and, for maybe the first time, allowed yourself to really look at the man standing besides you, sun painting his skin golden and his eyes bluer than the sea.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nikolai.”

He turned, looked at you and smiled.

You swallowed the fluttering in your chest, like you could choke the butterflies if you tried hard enough.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

tag list: @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mischiefmanaged71 @lunamadhatter99 @feyredarling92 @reverse-iak @zanmorgan @criesinlies @ducks118 @home-of-disaster @96jnie @inluvkai @maddieg1025

[lady-lostmind]

Privileges

for Stobin Month prompt: Trio

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 703 | Rating: G

ao3 link

Steve pulls up outside of Eddie’s trailer and honks the horn, grinning when Eddie hurries out, and hops in the passenger seat. 

Steve shakes his head as he pulls away. “You better not get too comfortable there.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Seriously? I don’t even get upgraded to front seat privileges as the boyfriend?” 

Steve smiles, reaching across to squeeze Eddie’s leg. He does like hearing him say that. “Sorry, babe. Platonic soulmate privileges are grandfathered in.” 

Eddie shakes his head, sending his curls flying wildly around him. “This is blasphemy! I’m not moving!”

Steve chuckles and shrugs. “Okay. It’s your funeral.” 

–

Steve pulls up outside of Robin’s and honks the horn, glancing over at Eddie with concern. “Last chance.” 

Eddie crosses his arms and pulls his feet up into the seat. “I’m not scared of Buckley.” 

Steve watches as Robin comes skipping out of the house with a smile, freezing when she spots Eddie in her seat, her face falling into a scowl. She stomps over and rips the passenger door open. “OUT, MUNSON!” 

Eddie wraps his arms tighter around him and shakes his head. “NO! Sit in the back. I was here first.” 

Robin scoffs. “No. I WAS HERE FIRST. This is my seat.” 

“I’m the boyfriend now! I get to sit up front!” 

Robin laughs, shaking her head and grabbing Eddie’s arm to try and tug him out of the seat. “I don’t think so, Munson. Platonic Soulmate trumps boyfriend. OUT!”

Eddie squawks trying to pull his arm back, his legs falling back to the floor to steady himself. “JUST SIT IN THE BACK, BUCKLEY! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!” 

Robin swats Eddie’s other hand away where he’s trying to pry her hand off his arm. “DINGUS TELL HIM THIS IS MY SEAT!”

Steve huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I’m staying so far out of this one.” 

Eddie reaches up and smacks Robin’s cheek, making her mouth drop open in shock. “You did NOT just smack me!” 

Robin wrestles with Eddie until she has him in a headlock, sticking her finger in her mouth, and then into Eddie’s ear, a mean laugh ringing out over his squeals of protest. “ROBIN! EW!”

Steve sighs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’re going to be late to the movie.” 

Eddie groans, grumbling as Robin squeezes her lanky limbs into the front seat with him, sitting on his lap, hunched over, and clearly making it as uncomfortable for Eddie as possible. “BUCKLEY! You have GOT to be kidding me! GET OFF!”

Robin shakes her head. “NO!” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not driving with you two piled in the same seat like that. It’s not safe.” 

Robin scoffs. “Steven! I won, come on!”

Eddie glares up at her. “Excuse you. I am still in the seat. My ass is on the seat. If anyone is winning, it’s me.” 

Steve glances at his watch. “Seriously, guys. We’re going to be late. If you want popcorn and stuff we have to go. Like…now.” 

A mischievous smile pulls across Robin’s face. “If you give me the front seat, I’ll give you radio privileges.” 

Eddie’s eyes flash bright. “Complete control, Buckley.” 

Robin rolls her eyes and she nods. “Yeah, yeah. Complete control.” 

Eddie’s dimples pop as he grins and he holds his hand up in offering. “Shake on it.” His eyes flick over to Steve as Robin takes his hand and shakes it. “You’re my witness, Stevie.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I saw it. Deal made. Now get in the back seat before we miss the previews.” 

Steve chuckles as he watches them untangle themselves so Eddie can climb in the backseat with a huff. He leans up between the seats, shoving a tape in Steve’s hands. Steve glances down, rolling his eyes at the Metallica tape in his hands. “You just had this on you?” 

A cocky grin pulls at Eddie’s face and he shrugs. “Always know which battle is worth fighting, Stevie.” 

Robin’s face drops and she gasps, turning to point accusingly at Eddie. “You took my seat on purpose so you’d get the radio!”

Eddie cackles, flopping back against the seat as Steve puts his tape in. “TURN IT UP, STEVIE!” 

Stobin month prompt list by @lavendersto

[newtonsheffield]

I can’t imagine NGS Edmund Bridgerton I in retirement. Hovering over Anthony the new team principle, while decked out in full merch with Charlotte’s and Neddy’s faces. Poor Violet trying to get him to sit down.

I mean for sure. He literally cannot leave Kate and Anthony alone to run the team. To be honest, I think Anthony is the CEO and Kate’s the team principle. Edmund has been grooming Kate for that job since her second season honestly. And imagine how smug he is about it, sat in interviews.

��Edmund, this time last year we were all talking about Kate’s contract renewal. Things have changed a little, hey?”

Edmund grinned, watching Anthony walk by, Kate draped over his back both of them laughing. “Look, Kate’s contract isn’t up for renewal for five years. And I don’t want to sound too smug but I’m fairly confident that Kate’s not going to be looking at other teams after that.”

The other principles rolled their eyes, and Agatha Danbury leaned forward to look at him, “Oh because you tricked her with a handsome man?! I lent you my goddaughter and you tied her there forever.”

“Well, we’re a family team.” Edmund smiled, “Kate’s my daughter in law now. We had a great season with her last year, her connection with Anthony was more than part of the reason for that. Daughter in law trumps Goddaughter Agatha. Her and Anthony seem a little attached.”

“You can’t just tie everyone to you through marriage!”

“I have eight very attractive children.” Edmund grinned, “I bloody well can.”

And he’s such a proud Grandpa at every carting event and when Miles graduates from his engineering degree. He loves seeing his family enjoy the sport he put his heart and soul into. And seeing his granddaughter be the first ever female World Champion? That’s something he’ll never forget

[obsidiancreates]

The Second Chance Of The Third Age (Part 3)

One more surprise does come, before the night is even ended. The food is eaten, the 

table littered with dishes, and the washing up positively monstrous in scale.

But Bilbo merely sits back and lights his pipe. “Well, I expect a show like last time.” He gestures at Thorin. “You missed it before, but I hope you’ll join in this one.”

“What?” Thorin barely has the word out before his grinning nephews grab him by the elbows and drag him out of his seat, Kili beginning to sing.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks-”

Dishes are thrown, flung, and whipped about the smial as Bilbo sits and listens with a bright smile, making smoke rings as targets in Gandalf the shock-ridden wizard’s stead! Thorin laughs when he realizes what’s happening, sparing no time in joining as he easily falls into the well-oiled theatrics with his nephews and friends.

Last time had been a somber start, and this new life has even more somber times to come. But here, and now, it’s renewal. 

“THAT’S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!”

Bilbo himself joins in the last shout, eyes sparkling. Thorin shakes his head at the song, but he’s smiling as well- he wishes he could’ve seen Bilbo’s reaction to the song in the first life. He can imagine the sputtering, the offensive, the shock when nothing breaks and all ends up clean and washed…

“You’re staring, Uncle,” Kili says, voice quiet but expression smug.

“As I’m allowed,” Thorin says. Bilbo looks his way, and rolls his eyes, gesturing for Thorin to walk over.

“I lived to be so old I can’t even remember the age,” Bilbo says when Thorin is close. “Old enough to get a lot of clarity on some things. Like how a Mithril shirt is a little more than a gift of friendship. And I know they picked up on it, I saw the coins, so let’s just make it official.”

“And how do you suggest we do?”

“For a start-” and Bilbo yanks Thorin into his lap and kisses him deeply. Thorin’s eyes are wide with shock at first, until he melts into it and leans up to kiss back.

It doesn’t last too long, Bilbo letting go and Thorin sitting back up, flushed. Bilbo rubs his arms. “Right, right, haven’t done much other than gardening with these arms yet.”

Thorin looks up, and huffs out a small laugh. “You’ve broken our wizard.”

Gandalf sits, choking silently on his smoke rings as Bifur frantically slaps his back. 

“We should get that axe out with the trolls this time,” Bofur says, watching Bifur just go to town on the poor wizard’s already suffering back. 

“We’re not going back there, are we?” Dori turns a little green just remembering the spinning on the spit.

“And leave behind swords from Gondolin?” Bilbo snips. “Sting won’t be rotting in a troll hoard if I can help it.”

“Troll hoard?!” Gandalf slaps Bifur’s hands away. “Gondolin?! How many magical artifacts of the bygone ages will we be collecting along this journey, Bilbo Baggins?”

“At least… let’s see. Ring, swords, does the Black Arrow count?”

“It’s only well-made, not magical.”

“Right. So Ring, swords, Arkenstone… it is magical, isn’t it?”

“There have been many debates since it’s discovery.”

“Well, I’m counting it. I think just those five items, then.”

Gandalf huffs. “Just those five-”

“Unless  we take a bit of extra time in Thranduil’s dungeons.” Thorin looks at Bilbowith what can only be described as Stoic, Stone-Faced Pleading.

“What part of One Ring of Sauron did you not understand? I won’t wear it unless I absolutely have to this time around, and that includes how long I’ll take in getting you all out.”

“Sorry, are we plannin’ to ge’ caught again?” Oin checks with his brother, who’s busy staring offended and disbelieving at Thorin. Oin elbows his brother. “Tell me my trumpe’ is clogged.”

“Of course we’re getting caught.” Kili smiles dreamily. “There’s someone I have to meet.”

“And, Legolas needs to have a push out of the Woodland realm,” Bilbo adds. “And frankly, so does Thranduil. Not to mention meeting Bard.”

“We should write this down.” Ori pulls the large notebook at his side out, as well as a bottle of ink and a quill. “Trolls for the swords… Rivendell for Elrond and Gandalf’s quest… Goblin Caves for The Ring-”

“I’ll have to do that alone, unfortunately.” Bilbo’s expression sours, his mouth pinching at the very thought. “There’s no telling if we’ll need Gollum before the end, and I can’t imagine he’d riddle with me with an army of dwarves beside me.”

“Even one?” Thorin is still sitting, mostly, in Bilbo’s lap.

“Even one.”

“Bilbo alone… should we kill Azog on the cliff?”

“We’ll certainly try,” Bilbo scoffs. “... Though that may change the outcome of The Battle drastically. They might try a different strategy…”

“We’ll try,” Thorin agrees. “And when I send word to Dain, I’ll know we face two armies of Orcs rather than Elves and Men. He’ll respond far differently to such a force.”

Ori nods. “So maybe for Azog… Beorn?”

“I’ll head that up, thank you,” Bilbo says. “And the signal will be decided before we sleep in his house, understand? Even if we take all night deciding on it.”

“Beorn… Mirkwood capture… oh, that means the spiders again! We’ll have to be caught by them!”

“In your dreams!” Nori pulls out a dagger and swipes up at an imagined and well-remembered foe. “I’ll have spider guts for breakfast first!”

“How about this time around I do what I told the children at parties? Sing an insulting song at the spiders to distract them.”

“Sing a song?”

“Trust me, it’ll get them very angry with me.”

“That’s no good, you’ll be caught too.”

“Ha!”

Ori ignores his brother and their burglar arguing and keeps writing. “Smuggled by Bard, arrested in Laketown, oh, avoid Kili getting shot with tha’ arrow… what else?”

“Dragon chase,” Balin says, tapping the book. 

“Well, no, we’re going to kill it this time.”

“Bilbo, even if we can, we need the men of Laketown in Dale to join The Battle.”

“But-”

“Wha’ about a warning?” Ori looks up. “Maybe we can ge’ them all to Dale before he burns Laketown?”

“Burns Laketown,” Gandalf mutters tiredly, slumped in his chair. “Arrested by Thranduil, burning Laketown- this is madness.”

“But it’s how it happened.” Bilbo sniffs, twitching his nose as he thinks. “We can’t just send him to them, not knowing what we do.”

“But we can’ change The Battle either, laddie,” Balin warns. “Not with what you plan to do with that Ring.”

“Aye, we need the Orc forces thinned,” Dwalin agrees. “War always has sacrifices, Bilbo.”

“I’m well aware!” Bilbo snaps it with such ferocious intensity that Dwalin’s hand twitches for a weapon, just for a second.

“... Maybe we get someone to lead them all to Dale but that Master and his people,” Fili suggests. He looks around to those who’d lived a long, long time after the Battle. “Remember them? We can get the good people out, leave those ones to make Smaug think the town is populated.”

“And Bard stays behind to kill Smaug how?” Dori peers at the page as Ori keeps noting down ideas. 

“Tell him it’s all a precaution?” Fili offers. “Or maybe we could ask Gandalf’s eagles for help.”

“The Eagles would never fly the same skies as a living dragon,” Gandalf says, listening to every word with increasing weariness. He knows how useless, and indeed how foolish, it would be to try and divert them from this path, if what Bilbo says about The Ring is true.

“Fine,” Kili says, “Then Fili and Bofur and I can stay behind again. How long did it take for the dragon to be woken before?”

“Not long enough,” Bilbo mumbles.

“Well, let’s figure out how long,” Kili says, looking at his brother, “And then you and I can lead everyone out right when it wakes up, and maybe convince Bard to use the Windlance this time to kill it.”

Fili grins at his brother and claps their fists together in a warrior’s handshake. “And with the dragon already woken, he’ll be driven by his family’s safety!”

“We won’ have a lo’ of time to ge’ away,” Bofur says, frowning as he remembers the speed at which the dragon descended on them. “A whole town…”

“Which is why we say we feel his waking hours before he comes out.” Fili looks at Thorin. “Men don’t know much about us, so we can just lie. Say we sense it somehow.”

“Use the ignorance of men against them.” Thorin nods. “It may work.”

Ori jots that all down, and then to finish simply writes ‘Battle- all live.’

“Right, well.” Bilbo gently nudges Thorin to get up. “We’ve got our plan, we’ve got our priorities, and we’ve got a long road ahead. I think it’s time to turn in.”

The Company all agree with great enthusiasm, and are soon all set up to sleep- Thorin and Bilbo seem to silently agree on sharing the master bedroom without so much as a hesitant look in the way of it.

Gandalf sits in the foyer, smoking among the sound of snoring dwarves, a fine headache steadily growing behind his eyes.

The One Ring found, in the hands of his own Bilbo Baggins, leeching into his soul. A dragon purposefully awoken, so that Sauron’s forces are thinned and the vile being himself may never again besiege Middle-Earth with his full wrath. A future once passed, now to be altered by the actions of merchants, miners, tinkerers, toymakers… and burglars.

… Has he not thought to himself, in the wee hours, that it’s the small things that keep the darkness at bay?

He leans back and pulls the brim of his hat low over his eyes. The fate of all of Middle-Earth in the hands of a hobbit…

It’s a thought he can make peace with.

[misfitwashere]

Even I, when I read the text of his statements, find myself normalizing him. I read or listen and look for a drop of normalcy, or for how his followers would hear him. I subconsciously do the work he wouldn’t do and look for meaning or critical thinking amidst all the gibberish, and then dismiss the gibberish. But right there on the page, right there on the screen where he stands, his words are often nonsense, and offensive, frightening nonsense.

The major reason he’s still in this race, and not being laughed off the stage, is because so many of those who support him are locked behind a wall of information or bias and fictionalize him, and those who report on him are either afraid of him, told to normalize him by corporate higher-ups, or are inured to his weirdness and self-absorption. Many report on the drip of normalcy and neglect the flood of incoherent, belligerent, and offensive inanity. We must not allow ourselves to get so used to him to the point that he uses us.

The recent debate provided a good example of his belligerent inanity. I almost felt sorry for him a couple of times because he was so out of his depth, so lost and out of control. He had no facts to show he cared about issues and people, and often pushed beyond the debate agreements of 2 minute comments to aggressively ramble on with conspiratorial lies.

And the simplistic, malignant nature of these lies almost surprised me. I didn’t expect him to so blatantly repeat on national tv the weird crazies he repeats on smaller stages. For example, his old debunked refrain about millions coming across the border to steal and rape, even repeating racist disinformation about Haitians stealing pets to eat them. He ignored the fact that most Haitians in the city were here legally, and immigrants in general are less likely to commit crimes than other U. S. residents, certainly less likely than DT himself.

“In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs, the people that came in, they’re eating the cats,” said Trump. The police and other city officials have repeatedly said there were no such reports, but DT claimed it was true because he saw it somewhere on tv.

Of course, when asked directly at the debate if he wanted the Ukrainians to win the war to defeat Russian invaders, or if he would veto a national abortion ban, he showed his true values and that, maybe his ramblings serve a purpose all his own, and refused to answer the actual question asked.

Recently, at a Fox “News” town hall, he was asked about the mass shooting at Apalachee High School in Georgia that led to four deaths and multiple injuries. DT avoided the question to talk about the support he received from Hungarian autocrat Viktor Orbán, the same autocrat he mentioned at the debate as a foreign ruler who respects him.

“’It’s a sick and angry world for a lot of reasons…’ Trump said. ‘And we’re going to make it better, you know, Viktor Orban made a statement, he said, ‘bring Trump back and we won’t have any problems.’ He was very strong about that.’” Never a comment about gun safety, or a sliver of compassion for the victims and their families.

Or to a Mom’s for Liberty event he said, “The transgender thing is incredible. Think of it. Your kid goes to school and comes home a few days later with an operation. The school decides what’s going to happen with your child.” Untrue, yes. Insane? Possibly.

In a recent speech to the Economic Club of New York, he rambled on again about Kamala Harris’ border policy: “She wants to defund the police, have Tony Logan votes, ban trafficking in Pennsylvania and everywhere else, take away your private health insurance, and perhaps most pertinent to the very brilliant people in this room, raise your business and corporate taxes, and unbelievably, she’ll see a text on unauthorized trafficking in those people’s living rooms at ease…”

Then: “[She] Has to be defeated. Cannot have her be the President of the United States. Under Kamala, the United States is becoming a third-world banana republic. She and her party are censoring speech, weaponizing the justice system, and trying to throw their political opponents, me, in jail.

This hasn’t happened. I didn’t do that to Crooked Hillary. I said, that would be a terrible thing, wouldn’t it? Putting the wife of the President of the United States in jail…” Of course, during the 2016 campaign he and his supporters repeatedly greeted mentions of Hillary Clinton with shouts of  “lock her up.” And recently, he repeatedly talked about his own plans to weaponize the DOJ.

When asked, “’If you win in November, can you commit to prioritizing legislation to make childcare affordable, and if so, what specific piece of legislation will you advance?” In DT’s reply, he admitted childcare was an important issue but failed to mention a single specific solution. Instead, he spent his time rambling incoherently on his idea of increasing tariffs on imports. He said:

“But I think when you talk about the kind of numbers that I’m talking about, that—because look, child care is child care. It’s, couldn’t—you know, there’s something … You have to have it. In this country, you have to have it.

But when you talk about those numbers compared to the kind of numbers that I’m talking about by taxing foreign nations at levels that they’re not used to, but they’ll get used to it very quickly. And it’s not going to stop them from doing business with us, but they’ll have a very substantial tax when they send product into our country.’” And on and on.

And at a rally in Las Vegas, in June, reported on by Eugene Robinson of The Washington Post, DT was trying to talk about the transition to electric vehicles, but instead veered off to speak about sharks:

“By the way, a lot of shark attacks lately, do you notice that? Lot of sharks. I watched some guys justifying it today: ‘Well they weren’t really that angry, they bit off the young lady’s leg because of the fact that they were not hungry, but they misunderstood who she was.’ These people are crazy. He said, ‘There’s no problem with sharks, they just didn’t really understand a young woman swimming.’ No, really got decimated, and other people, too, a lot of shark attacks….”

In the Washington Post article, the author also focused on the ridiculous normalizing of DT in much of the corporate media. “We in the media have failed by becoming inured to Trump’s verbal incontinence — not just the rapid-fire lies and revenge-seeking threats, but also the frightening glimpses into a mind that is, evidently, unwell…. The tendency with Trump, at 77, is to say he’s ‘just being Trump.’ But he’s like this all the time….” Hopefully, the debate has clearly exposed to the nation that he can’t or shouldn’t be normalized and is unfit to hold political office.

Add this to his offensive comments about soldiers, especially those wounded and killed during their service, or sexist, misogynist, and often cruel comments about women and one wonders how he could still be in this race, or how could anyone feel safe with the idea of him wielding power. There’s a reason why so many members of his former cabinet and administration are warning us about him. And as journalist Greg Sargent recently wrote in The New Republic, it’s time for “the media” to make DT’s incoherence the top story of the week, year, decade.

Time for us all, when we can listen to him, to recognize what’s there and not there, and get out the vote for Harris-Walz.

[the-psudo]

Trump's People

“The American people deserve to know that President Trump asked me to put him over my oath to the Constitution. … Anyone who puts himself over the Constitution should never be president of the United States.” — Mike Pence, Trump's vice president

“Someone who engaged in that kind of bullying about a process that is fundamental to our system and to our self-government shouldn’t be anywhere near the Oval Office.” — Bill Barr, Trump's 2nd attorney general

“Donald Trump is the first president in my lifetime who does not try to unite the American people — does not even pretend to try. Instead he tries to divide us.” — James Mattis, Trump's 1st secretary of defense

“I think he’s unfit for office. … He puts himself before country. His actions are all about him and not about the country. And then, of course, I believe he has integrity and character issues as well.” — Mark Esper, Trump's 2nd secretary of defense

“We don’t take an oath to a wannabe dictator. We take an oath to the Constitution and we take an oath to the idea that is America – and we’re willing to die to protect it.” — retired Gen. Mark Milley, Trump's chairman of the joint chiefs

“(Trump’s) understanding of global events, his understanding of global history, his understanding of US history was really limited. It’s really hard to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t even understand the concept for why we’re talking about this.” — Rex Tillerson, Trump's secretary of state

“He used to be good on foreign policy and now he has started to walk it back and get weak in the knees when it comes to Ukraine. A terrible thing happened on January 6, and he called it a beautiful day.” — Nikki Haley, Trump's 1st ambassador to the United Nations

“Someone who I would argue now is just out for himself.” — Chris Christie, Trump's presidential transition vice-chairman

“We saw the absence of leadership, really anti-leadership, and what that can do to our country.” — HR McMaster, Trump's 2nd national security adviser

“I believe (foreign leaders) think he is a laughing fool.” — John Bolton, Trump's 3rd national security adviser

“A person that has nothing but contempt for our democratic institutions, our Constitution, and the rule of law. There is nothing more that can be said. God help us.” — John Kelly, Trump's 2nd chief of staff

“I quit because I think he failed at being the president when we needed him to be that.” — Mick Mulvaney, Trump's acting chief of staff and US special envoy to Ireland, resigned after January 6th, 2021

“He is the domestic terrorist of the 21st century.” — Anthony Scaramucci, one of Trump's former communications directors

“I am terrified of him running in 2024.” — Stephanie Grisham, another former communications director

“When I saw what was happening on January 6 and didn’t see the president step in and do what he could have done to turn it back or slow it down or really address the situation, it was just obvious to me that I couldn’t continue.” — Betsy DeVos, Trump's secretary of education, resigned after January 6th, 2021

“At a particular point the events were such that it was impossible for me to continue, given my personal values and my philosophy." — Elaine Chao, Trump's secretary of Transportation, resigned after January 6th, 2021

“…the president has very little understanding of what it means to be in the military, to fight ethically or to be governed by a uniform set of rules and practices.” — Richard Spencer, Trump's 1st secretary of the Navy

“The President undermined American democracy baselessly for months. As a result, he’s culpable for this siege, and an utter disgrace.” — Tom Bossert, Trump's 1st homeland security adviser

“Donald’s an idiot.” — Michael Cohen, Trump's former personal lawyer and fixer

“Trump relentlessly puts forth claims that are not true.” — Ty Cobb, Trump's White House lawyer

“We can stand by the policies, but at this point we cannot stand by the man.” — Alyssa Farah Griffin, one of Trump's directors of strategic communications, now a CNN political commentator

“Donald Trump, who would attack civil rights icons and professional athletes, who would go after grieving black widows, who would say there were good people on both sides, who endorsed an accused child molester; Donald Trump, and his decisions and his behavior, was harming the country. I could no longer be a part of this madness.” — Omarosa Manigault Newman, a top aide in charge of Trump's outreach to African Americans

“I thought that he did do a lot of good during his four years. I think that his actions on January 6 and the lead-up to it, the way that he’s acted in the aftermath, and his continuation of pushing this lie that the election is stolen has made him wholly unfit to hold office every again.” — Sarah Matthews, one of Trump's deputy press secretaries, resigned after January 6th, 2021

“I think that Donald Trump is the most grave threat we will face to our democracy in our lifetime, and potentially in American history.” — Cassidy Hutchinson, Trump's final chief of staff’s aide

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

President Biden is not playing. He came out Friday and delivered what even the awful NY Times dubbed a “fiery” speech before a boisterous crowd in Michigan where thousands cheered: “Don’t you quit!” and “We’ve got your back!” The audience laughed at Biden’s barbs about Trump’s failed businesses, declaring Trump “even went bankrupt running a casino – I didn’t think that was even possible. Doesn’t the house always win in a casino?!” And when Biden touched on Trump being a convicted felon, the crowd organically chanted, “Lock him up!” But it was Biden’s line rightfully calling Trump a “rapist” that needs to be repeated by Democrats to force the media to cover this fact so that it becomes a visible part of the 2024 election. And that was Biden’s very point, as he called out the corporate media’s failure to cover so much about Trump while instead dissecting every syllable uttered by the President.

As Biden correctly told the excited crowd, the media has been holding him to a different standard by ignoring Trump’s crimes, etc. But Biden defiantly declared that was going to end now: “No more free passes!” Biden continued, “Today we’re going to shine a spotlight on Donald Trump. We’re going to do what the press so far hasn’t” adding, “We’re going to say who he is.” That is when Biden leaned into Trump being found liable for rape in the civil case brought by journalist E. Jean Carroll.  Biden told his throngs of supporters: “Donald Trump was found liable for sexual assault by a judge, who told us not to be fooled by Trump brushing it off.” The President continued, “Here’s what the judge wrote. Quote, the judge in that case wrote, quote, ‘Mr. Trump attempted to minimize sexual abuse, finding it frivolous. Mr. Trump raped her.’ That’s the judge’s language, not mine.” Adding, “Raped her, as many people understand the word rape.” That is correct and it deserves far more coverage. Donald Trump is a rapist as a federal judge determined after reviewing the evidence and jury verdict.

As a quick reminder, E. Jean Carroll had stated that Trump had sexually assaulted her in 1996 while she was in a dressing room in an upscale department store.  Carroll sued Trump in this case for both the attack and for defamation because he called her a liar, publicly ridiculed her as making up the story to sell books and more causing damage to her reputation and inflicting emotional distress. In May 2023, a federal jury unanimously found that Trump—who was represented by well-known lawyers in the trial—had “sexually abused” Carroll and did defame her, thus, awarding her $5 million. The jury did not, however, find that Trump had “raped” her in the narrow definition of the NY Penal law, but this was not a criminal trial, only a civil one seeking damages. (You can read the actual jury verdict form here.)

What Biden was referring to as Trump being adjudicated a rapist comes from what the federal judge presiding over the case, Lewis A. Kaplan, ruled in July 2023 in response to Trump’s motion to set aside the verdict. Judge Kaplan wrote in his decision (which you can read here) that what Trump did was in fact rape, as commonly understood. As the judge explained, “Carroll failed to prove that she was “raped” within the meaning of the New York Penal Law does not mean that she failed to prove that Mr. Trump “raped” her as many people commonly understand the word “rape.” Indeed, as the evidence at trial recounted below makes clear, the jury found that Mr. Trump in fact did exactly that.”

President Biden is right to call Donald Trump a rapist.

[quite-right-too]

Inspired by that one Good Omens interview, “What do you MEAN, ‘What’s a Walmart???’” (prompt for a prompt? :D)

“What do you MEAN ‘What’s a Walmart’?”

The Doctor looked aghast, staring at Rose who sat on the other side of the couch in the media room, staring at the TV in front of her.

“Is it a grocery store? What is it, Doctor?” she asked, staring him down. Was she serious? Did she honest to gods not know what a Walmart was?

He quickly stood up, running his hand through his hair. “It isn’t not a grocery store but it doesn’t just sell groceries. You can buy all kinds of things there. Parts for your car, flat decor, even house paint and televisions.” His animated version of a Walmart description went on as he intended to truly show Rose the complexity of an American Walmart.

“But like… What is it?” She barely got the words out before the Doctor whisked her up, pulling her down the hallway and into the console room. She was lightly shoved in the direction of the jumpseat, rolling her eyes as he manically danced around the console. Flicking switches and pressing buttons, she felt the TARDIS jerk as she navigated the vortex. Landing with a shudder, the Doctor offered Rose a hand.

“Tampa, Florida. The year 2016 in the United States of America. Rough year for them, 2016. Donald Trump gets elected president,” he says with a cringe, pulling his coat on while continuing his manic rant, “famous gorilla killed at a zoo in Ohio, Muhammad Ali dies…” He trails off, looking at Rose’s smirk with a puzzled look on his face. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Rose burst out in a fit of laughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Did you really think I didn’t know what a Walmart was, you knob?” She stood up, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Doctor, we have them in London. They’re called ASDAs.” She couldn’t help but smile at him as he smiled.

“You lied to me, Rose Tyler,” he accused. Her laugh said all he needed to know as he grabbed her by waist, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulder. Her squeak of surprise brought a satisfied smile to his face.

“We’re already here, Rose. Time to go for a little shopping spree.”

Send me a sentence prompt and I’ll write you a TenRose ficlet!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Trump is a loser. Tell a friend.

January 11, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Readers frequently comment on my newsletters by writing, “You used word X; you should have used word Y.” Sometimes the comments are well-taken, but much of the time, my (silent) reaction is, “We aren’t going to change the course of history through vocabulary.” But Trump's effort to return to power may be the exception.

Trump is a loser. A spectacular one. He is the living embodiment of the punchline to the joke, “How do you make a small fortune in New York real estate?” Answer: “Start out with a large one.” His companies have been through half-a-dozen bankruptcies. The failure of his Taj Mahal Casino helped turn Atlantic City into a “ghost town.” He is such an unreliable credit risk that American banks stopped dealing with him in the 1990s.

Trump is a loser. He is the only president ever to be impeached twice. He is the only major presidential candidate to lose the popular vote twice. He is the only major presidential candidate to be indicted once—let alone four times. He is the first president in nearly a century to lose the House, the Senate, and re-election. He is the only major presidential candidate who has been adjudged (in a civil case) to have raped a woman.

Trump is a loser. When he traveled internationally as president, foreign leaders laughed at him behind his back. When he addressed the UN Assembly, world leaders laughed at him to his face. He has made some of the most ignorant comments ever by a US president, suggesting that Covid victims “inject bleach” and that they “shine a light inside their bodies.” And during an eclipse visible from Washington, D.C., Trump did the one thing that observers of eclipses are NEVER supposed to do—he removed his protective eye gear to look directly at the sun.

Despite the fact that Trump is a historic loser, he has somehow convinced tens of millions of Americans that he is “a stable genius” who would defeat a combined presidential ticket of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. We should not add to Trump's false mythology by unintentionally ascribing stature or influence he does not have.

Two days ago, readers of this newsletter posted a link in the Comment section to an article by Jason Sattler published on the Substack blog, Framelab. The article is entitled, Why Trump wants you to compare him to Hitler | Because then you’re not calling him a loser.

Sattler’s article is brilliant, and I highly recommend it. But in case you don’t get around to reading the article, the gist of Sattler’s argument is that Trump wants us to compare him to Hitler—because that comparison normalizes the notion that Trump will regain power as an autocratic strongman.

Sattler writes:

Ruth Ben-Ghiat, an expert on authoritarianism, seems to think the Hitler stuff is a trial balloon. Trump is seeking to “dehumanize immigrants now so the public will accept your repression of them when you return to office.” [T]hat thought gets us talking about exactly what Trump wants on our minds — him in power. He’s preemptively framing himself — as a strongman, an agent of revenge, and the ultimate enforcer of unsustainable hierarchies.

Sattler goes further, asserting that we are doing a favor for Trump by calling him Hitler:

When you’re calling Trump a dictator, think about what you’re not calling him. You’re not calling him a loser who never has and never will win the popular vote. A fraud. A traitor. Instead, you’re repeating his slander of immigrants and propping up his stature. You’re doing him a huge favor. Basically, we’re getting fooled again.

There is wisdom in Sattler’s analysis—to a point. We should not fall into the trap of assuming that Trump will succeed in becoming a Hitler-like dictator who will impose martial law on “day one” of his second term in office. If we do that, we make it more likely that Trump will succeed in his effort to be re-elected.

In other words, we should not grant Trump superpowers he does not possess. The man is a loser and a miserable human being who is disliked by almost everyone who has the misfortune of dealing directly with him.

But Trump is not only a small, insecure, petulant loser; he also exercises outsized influence over tens of millions of Americans. It would be foolish to stop talking about the existential danger that Trump presents to our democracy. For example, we know that Trump asked his former Secretary of Defense why federal troops couldn’t “shoot protestors” on the National Mall protesting the murder of George Floyd.

Two things are simultaneously true—and they are not in contradiction: Trump is a loser and he is a dangerous threat to our democracy. We can prevent him from becoming Hitler’s protege by reminding voters that he is a loser who has lost more than any other presidential candidate in history—and that he will lose again in 2024.

Don’t build an aura of inevitable victory around Trump. Instead, build an aura of inevitable defeat around Trump. He is a loser. He has always been a loser. And he will always be a loser.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[diivineray]

Nicky Jam retracting his endorsement for Trump after he and his administration called Puerto Rico a floating pile of garbage will never not make me laugh.

His reasoning thinking Trump was going to do something about the border, keeping immigrants out and ITS JUST SOMETHING IVE BEEN SAYING TO EVERY LATINO THAT THINKS WHITE PPL ARE GONNA LIKE THEM IF THEY ALSO HATE THEIR OWN KIND

Eventually you’re gonna get a wake up call and realize the ppl you support hate you. They hate you. To them we’re all immigrants, our brown skin makes us criminals, it makes us murders and rapists and drug dealers.

To them were taking jobs and ruining the country and SOMEHOW you thought that because you are from Puerto Rico and that you’re ‘technically’ an American citizen that you’d be treated differently ??? 😂😂😂

And the fact that ONLY reason you’re retracting is because they insulted Puerto Rico but to hell with the rest of us right ?? This what I hate about these kinds of Latinos.

Nicky jam just dumb as fuck for retracting it to cuz you look like an even bigger idiot than you did when you endorsed him. And I can’t wait for every Latino who thinks they are these ppl’s friends, that you get reminded that yes you have brown skin. You have an accent. You are not one of them and they are not your friends.

[khalixascorner]

Say it Loud(er) Pt 2

Summary: When Tony goes before the Senate to protest an inhumane amendment to the Superhero Accountability Act, he doesn't mean to admit he loves Spider-Man on live CSPAN. Rather than recant his statement, Tony rolls with the punches and declares them married too. Now he just has to let Peter know before the press gets their hands on him.

Tags: Accidental Marriage, Public Confessions, no literally, it's mostly fluff with a little bit of spice right at the end.

Fill for Marvel Trumps Hate 2022

Read on AO3 Here Part 1

Peter was surprised when he felt his watch discreetly buzz with the emergency signal from Tony. In his three years at MIT, Tony had never once used it during one of Peter’s classes. The man had always said that short of the end of the world, school came first, and the grown ups could handle it. With that thought in mind, Peter was making his excuses and darting out of his class within seconds.

“Karen, what’s the situation?” Peter asked as he pulled out his phone to check the news. Before the AI could respond, his phone was ringing. Peter ducked into a quiet corner of the courtyard and answered it.

“There’s not a lot of time so I need you to listen closely, kid,” Tony said before Peter could even greet him. “If anyone asks if you’re my husband, you say no comment. Don’t deny it, don’t confirm it, just no comment. Also, just so you know, we’re officially married as of May 4th last year. It was in Wakanda, May and Rhodey were our witnesses, and as soon as you message Shuri that you’re on board -and make sure you say that specifically, nothing else- then King Kitty was our officiant.”

“Wha-Tony-” Peter barely got a word out before Tony was talking again.

“Head to the normal airport, take the plane waiting there. Do not stop back at your dorm or anywhere else. I’ll send Happy or a drone for your stuff later, just get back to the tower,” Tony said so quickly that Peter felt a bit dazed. “Call May from the plane, let her know what’s happening. It’s all tied to that amendment. Just– For the love of Thor, Peter, go with it, don’t argue. Get home to the tower and we’ll go over everything there. Can you do that for me?”

“Yea-yeah, Tony, I got it. No comment, text Shuri I’m on board, head straight for the plane, and call May, then meet you at the tower,” Peter said, trying to sound more sure than he felt.

“There’s a private car en route. It will meet you at the normal place. Don’t talk to the driver either. Gotta go, see you soon.”

The line went dead before Peter could even say goodbye. He took a minute to take a few deep breaths even as his mind picked apart their conversation. Tony was worried, that much was clear. He only barked orders like that when things were critical. 

With one last deep breath, Peter squared his shoulders and made his way quickly to the pick up point. Classes were in session for a bit yet so the courtyards were empty but he still clung to the fringes just in case. Even as he did that, he texted Shuri exactly what he’d been told. She sent a single emoji in reply, and his fingers itched to reply again but then the car arrived and he didn’t dare risk it.

The ride to the airport was uncomfortably silent. Peter didn’t do well with silence, and he longed to fill it so that he could avoid thinking. However Tony’s warning hung about him like a dark cloud, so he forced himself to stay silent even as his mind ran faster and faster.

Peter’s mind circled back to what Tony had said. Married. They were married, or very soon would be with it backdated to nearly a year ago. A near hysterical laugh broke free before he could smother it completely. Only Parker luck would give him the thing he wanted most in the most ridiculously twisted way possible. He wasn’t ready to be married, and hadn’t even told Tony how he felt. And now he was going to have to act like a husband when he didn’t even know how husbands were supposed to act. 

His chest grew tight and for a minute it felt like he couldn’t breathe. How was he supposed to do this without messing it up? How could anyone even think it was true? Karen vibrated his phone hard, shocking him out of his introspection in time to see a message informing him to calm down or she would call Tony back. The mere thought of that mortified Peter enough to help calm himself down for the tail end of the drive.

He quietly thanked the driver when he got there, only to be ushered through the private security portion of the airfield the minute he was out of the car. It was only once he was on the plane that he was able to relax slightly.

“Peter, Mr. Stark would like to remind you to call your aunt if you have not already,” Karen said a few minutes into the flight. “He says it’s urgent that you be the one to tell her what he told you.”

“Alright, alright, call Aunt May for me, Karen,” Peter said with a sigh. She was going to be as confused as he was no doubt.

“Peter, what the fuck?” May said as soon as she answered, startling him. “How could you?”

“What? Aunt May, what are you talking about?” Peter asked, confused and a little worried.

“When did you have time to fly off and get married to TONY STARK?” she all but yelled.

“May- May, please listen. Are you alone?” Peter asked, and when the woman confirmed that she had gone up to the roof to get away from the stares and whispers, Peter sighed. “May, I’m not- well, I mean, not officially married to Tony.”

Before he could continue, Karen chimed in.

“That is incorrect, Peter. You and Mr. Stark have been married since May 4th of last year. Anyone looking into your documentation will find such. Friday ensured it.”

“Ok, ok, well, I guess I am married officially to Tony,” Peter said, feeling even more confused. “He called me like thirty minutes ago, said we’re married, and to meet him back at the tower and he’d explain everything. I think it had to do with the amendment to the superhero act.”

“You don’t even know, do you?” May asked, her voice suddenly soft.

“Know what?”

“Google Tony after we get off the phone,” May said, and Peter could hear the weariness in her voice. “What a mess.”

“Ok, well, Tony said to call you and let you know, and that you were the other witness in Wakanda with Rhodey and King T’Challa officiated,” Peter said, feeling a bit like Alice must have felt when she tried to tell people about Wonderland.

“Of course I was, and I’m sure my records will show I wasn’t at work that day too,” May said sarcastically. Karen heard though and Peter groaned as the AI said she’d get right on it.

“You can probably go to the tower if you want to lay low there,” Peter offered, sure that Tony wouldn’t mind. “Otherwise, I think the plan is no comment to any questions, or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll head there right after my shift. I only have a few hours left,” May said with a sigh.

“I’ll ask Tony to send someone to get you,” Peter said, his hands already a blur as he sent the message. “I’m not sure if it will be Happy or not, but we’ll get you there safely.”

“I know, baby, just– focus on getting you there safely, ok? I don’t like this one bit,” May said and Peter frowned.

“I’m sure Tony has a plan,” Peter said, confident that his mentor turned friend had things well in hand.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I feel about it, that’s all,” May said with a harsh laugh. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, larb you, May,” Peter said.

“Larb you too.”

Peter put his head back for just a moment before having Karen google the news about Tony. The first link contained his entire speech to congress, and Peter watched with pride as his mentor landed hit after hit. And then, for the first time since Peter had met Tony, he watched his mentor fumble verbally. When saying that he loved Peter.

Peter’s hands shook as he listened to it again, trying to hear something, anything that would confirm if it was true. It had been so spontaneous and his mentor had actually looked shocked for a moment.

“Karen, if you analyze that clip, can you tell if Tony was lying when he said he loved me,” Peter finally asked. The need to know was eating away at him.

Karen beeped a confirmation and began running the analysis while Peter watched for a third time.

“Based on the data points available, Mr. Stark was being truthful when he said he loved you,” Karen reported a few minutes later. “I do not understand why you would need that confirmed though. Mr. Stark has indicated many times that he cares a great deal about you and is invested in your health and happiness.”

“That’s- that’s different, Karen,” Peter tried to explain. “You can love a friend and want them to be happy, and then there’s loving someone more than that.”

“You love Mr. Stark more than that,” Karen pointed out and Peter grimaced.

“Karen, I said you couldn’t ever tell anyone that,” Peter complained.

“And I haven’t, though I do not understand why.”

“I just, you can’t- Tony was my mentor, and sure, now I’m older but he still sees me as a kid and if I told him how I feel, he’d probably do the whole ‘I’m honored you still think so highly of me but you’ll outgrow the hero worship and it’s just a crush, so this is for your own good’ thing that he always does,” Peter said with a groan. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Mr. Stark will always be concerned with your welfare, however, I do not believe he still sees you as a child either,” Karen said, and Peter just sighed again.

“Based on what, Karen?”

“The baby gate and other protocols have either been loosened or removed entirely after you began attending MIT. You also have discretionary funds and unsupervised access to things you didn’t have before,” Karen replied. “So it is clear that Mr. Stark does not see you as needing such a close watch as you did when you were younger.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think he would trust me to know my own heart when it comes to this, Karen,” Peter said softly. “I’ve looked up to him for so long, but I didn’t realize I loved him until I moved away for MIT and realized all I wanted was to go home to him again. May kept saying he was such a good mentor, and that it was like having a dad again, but it’s never felt that way to me.”

“I think you should talk to him about it, Peter,” Karen said gently but Peter just shook his head and sighed. 

He doubted he’d ever find the courage to tell his mentor how he really felt. Their history with his mentorship and meeting Tony so young left him feeling unable to ask the older man to look at him now and see him as an adult. And yet, as he watched Tony defend him so passionately, he briefly let himself daydream about what it could be like, to be Dr. and Mr. Stark. Or Parker-Stark rather, according to the article he’d found that had a copy of their marriage documentation released by Wakanda as proof.

He already loved spending time with Tony, whether in the lab or movie night, and Peter always felt comfortable with the older man. They just fit, no rough edges to smooth out or anything.

Peter snorted at himself with that. There had been plenty of rough edges in the beginning, when Tony would hover or not trust Peter, and Peter was so desperate to prove himself. But all of that had settled eventually, until they just moved around each other, bodies aware even when their brains were busy.

Peter groaned again. Whatever Tony’s plan was, it was probably going to be a long con, which meant they were going to have to keep up the charade for a time before they could finally come clean. Peter didn’t know how he was going to survive it.