#kamala stop lying when?

[tuxebo]

Can I just say, the debate is so much worse than I expected?

[femboy-c-cups]

The "trump working with netanyahu to prevent a ceasefire" thing doesn't really hold much water as a reason to vote democrat when they could have stopped the war at literally any moment by simply not sending arms to israel. I'm not talking about bombs over a certain size or whatever, all of it. This has always been the case.

When kamala says she wants a ceasefire, she's lying, like are you fucking stupid?

[samueldays]

I see this shit and I wonder: is there, even theoretically, anything which can be done about it in general?

(To back up Domenech, here is the 2021 interview, the clip is taken from about twentyfive minutes in.)

The obvious first problem is the lying. Legally, this is protected by the First Amendment, and one has to clear a high bar of showing specific harm (such as being defrauded) to prosecute lies in America. Socially, it is one of a great many lies being told by a great many liars. Getting just one to stop would be ineffective, getting them to stop en masse would be a Herculean task. Specifically a task like cleaning the Augean Stables.

The second problem that comes to mind is that even if there were a remedy like "Legally compel @harris_wins to issue a correction", such remedies are extremely prone to abuse as a class. It would take law-writing that is both unusually clever and unusually moral to give Vance some way of punishing @harris_wins for this, without also risking collateral damage to speech protections, and exploitations of the power to punish.

The third problem is that an account like @harris_wins is disposable and replaceable. It is not the official Kamala Harris account. It's a sort of credibility-printer or the product of one, that can be spun up, tell loud and flashy lies, and be ditched when it comes under fire. It's cheap chaff, it's moderately polished with the signs and language of journalism like screaming "BREAKING" on everything, and it gets a million views.

The sort of punishment one can practically inflict on an account like this is only a cost of doing business for whoever's paying the cut-outs and interns and troll farms for Kamala's campaign.

Fourth, I think, is the aggravating nature of this particular lie.

Trump's lies usually involve saying he's the best, he's the greatest, everyone loves him, he'll fix all your problems, et cetera, which are colloquial English for him being moderately above average, some people love him, he might mitigate a couple of problems. I'm autistic and I dislike the way people casually lie in ordinary speech and say "it's hyperbole", but it's hard for me to feel any extra hate for Trump over exaggeration-to-the-point-of-falsehood when it's so common.

Whoever is running @harris_wins does not have the hyperbole excuse. This is not partial support for Project 2025 being exaggerated into complete endorsement, this is a false source and they're claiming it contains something it does not contain at all. Vance never mentions Project 2025 at all (how could he, in 2021?) in the clip, he is saying routine politician things about taking power and replacing the existing ruling class, that is not "Vance completely endorses Project 2025".

[arlana-likes-to-write]

You Look Happier

Part 4 of the Family, Pawns, and Sins of the Family

Summary: After every thing you've been though, it's time to move forward. While doing just that you run into a unlikely friend that looks past the scars you bare.

Warning: panic attack, mention of past abuse, suicidal thoughts, fluff, Kamala is a joy and I love her, small scene of a guy grabbing the reader, mention of nightmares, facing past abusers in court.

Word Count: 5.4k

Note: Ignore the fact that I said the next chapter of Second Chance will be posted today, I finished this one shot instead lol. Also, this will probably be the last part of this!

*

Healing was not linear. If this whole experience taught you one thing, it was that. Some days were good. They were great. You smiled and laughed without restraint. Those good days bleed into good weeks. Then, the darkness over your shoulder would rear its ugly head. All your hard work to overcome everything seemed pointless when you couldn’t leave your bed and your moms stayed by your side out of fear you would hurt yourself. There were close calls. The overwhelming urge sometimes became too much. You wanted to feel anything besides their hands on you.

Tonight was the end of a terrible day. You shut down after your therapy appointment. The mid-afternoon nap you took was ruined by a nightmare, and the court called, and they needed you to testify against Principal Cook. It was not your day. Still, you managed to pull yourself out of bed when the Avengers came over for a cookout. You sat at the fire pit with a marshmallow on the end of the stick. The flames engulfed the sticky treat and fell into the fire. Sighing, you blew out the flame and leaned back into the chair. You pulled the blanket to your chin and watched the get-together.

“Hey bug,” Natasha slid next to you. The chair was big enough for you two to sit comfortably without touching it, but you folded it against her. You buried your face in her shoulder and felt her hand draw shapes on your back. “How are you feeling?” Lying was never an option when they asked you this question. They would rather have the brutal, honest truth than a lie. It was a hard thing to overcome in the beginning.

“I’m,” Tired. Sad. Angry. “Struggling.” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Natasha kissed your forehead. “Today was a lot.” You nodded against her.

“Have you heard from the lawyers?” It was Natasha’s turn to sigh and kiss your forehead again.

“Not yet. They are talking with Cook’s defense team and hoping the man will take a plea deal.” You nodded and closed your eyes. The constant motion and her soft humming almost sent you to sleep. “Your mama and I have to go to the tower tomorrow. Is it okay to have your therapy session online?” The other thing was they refused to let you stay home alone on terrible days. It made sense. Through all of this, they wanted you to be safe.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s fine.” There was no need to open your eyes because you knew there was a smile on her face.

“I love you, our firefly.”

“I love you too, mom.”

*

Today was better. Your therapist let you discuss your relationship with Wanda, Natasha, and the twins. It was a breath of fresh air to talk about something positive. The two Avengers were still in their meeting, so you waited for them on the common floor. It was half your fault. You were looking at your phone when a body slammed into you, causing you and your phone to fall to the ground. “Are you okay? Is your phone okay? Do you have a concussion?” You blinked at the girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes. “Oh my god, I’ve concussed you.” She cried, placing her hands on top of her head.

“I’m not-wait. Who are you?”

“I’m Kamala Khan,” she offered you her hand, which you took to stand up.

“I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are. Peter won’t stop talking about you. He says, You’re super cool.”

“I’m-” broken. Hurt. Sad. “Okay,” she laughed, and the sound erupted butterflies in your stomach. You noticed you were still holding her hand, and you dropped it suddenly. “Sorry,” you whispered. She smiled, picked up your phone, and looked it over.

“It’s not broken. I would have hated it if I gave you a concussion and broke your phone.” you were surprised by the laugh that you let out. It only made Kamala’s smile grow. “Here you go.”

“You should put your number in it,” a surge of confidence washed through you. Her eyebrows went up. “I mean, you did assault me. I think you owe me,” her mouth opened and closed like a fish. It was cute.

“I see why Peter likes you,” she said, handing you the phone so you could open it, and she quickly put her number on it. “I have to run-”

“Hopefully, not into someone again,” you said with a playful smile. She rolled her eyes.

“But I’ll see you again. Text me so I can have your number, too.” You waved bye as she ran off. Flopping onto the couch, you sent Kamala a simple hello with your name. For some reason, your cheeks were hurting from your smile.

*

You giggled at the funny meme Kamala sent you of Yelena and Kate that she made. You befriended the girl three days ago, and her goal seemed to make you smile. Even after a tough day at therapy, you were welcomed with messages from her that made it better. “Alright, enough,” your phone was ripped away from you. You gasped as you watched Yelena go through your phone. “You’ve been giggling all night. Who are you texting?”

“Mama, tell her to give me my phone back,” Wanda chuckled, standing over the stove to make dinner.

“Give her the phone back, Belova,” the witch laughed. “But I am curious who has got you smiling so much.” Yelena refused to give you the phone.

“First off, you’ve met Kamala,” she handed Wanda your phone. Instead of looking through it like the Black Widow, she returned it to you. “Second, I am going to kill her.” You smiled.

“We ran into each other at the tower,” you texted her, letting her know Yelena saw the memes she made. “Literally,” you mumbled. Every time you thought about how you met your new friend, you laughed. This was amplified when Kamala responded, saying you betrayed her trust.

“Hey,” Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face. You jumped, not expecting it. “Your mama was talking to you.” The Blonde rolled her eyes and left the kitchen.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “What were you saying?” Wanda smiled with a shake of the head.

“I said dinner is almost ready. Can you go wash up and get your brothers?” You nodded and closed the book you were trying to read, but you were distracted by your phone. “And sweetheart,” you stopped to look at Wanda. “She’s making you smile a lot. Is there more going on?” You felt your body heat up.

“N-no,” you stuttered. “We are just friends,” Wanda smirked. “Mama, we are.”

“Okay, I’m just teasing,” you huffed and walked to your room. You dropped your textbooks and notebooks on your desk. Friends. That was all you and Kamala were. Nothing more. Right?

*

You were nervous as you stood outside Natasha’s home office. You could do this. You could do this. Knocking the door, you heard her voice on the other side telling you to come in. You entered and closed the door. “Hey bug, what -” she stopped mid-question. “Are you okay? You look like you are going to be sick.” Instead of answering, you walked to the front of her desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha nodded, the worry evident on her face. “Can I go to the movies?” The Black Widow blinked at once, twice.

“Jesus, kid, you were about to give me a heart attack,” she let out a shaky breath and placed her hand on her chest for added effect. “Who would you be going with?”

“Uh Kamala,” you played with the fidget ring Yelena gave you after they saved you from Dmitri. “She and a few of her friends are in the city, and they invited me to see Detention Disaster with them.” It was a comedy. You looked at an in-depth review of it, so you knew nothing would trigger you.

“Are you sure? That’s a big step,” you knew what she meant. You rarely went anywhere besides the tower, the park down the street, and your brother’s school. Natasha and Wanda were with you even if you went somewhere outside your comfort zone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, but you wouldn’t grow or heal if you stayed constant. “But I’d like to try.”

*

“That scene in the cafeteria was so funny,” Bruno said as he walked next to Nakia. “And it was shot so well,” Kamala chuckled and shook her head at her friend.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” She asked you. You were walking behind Bruno and Nakia.

“Yeah, it was funny.” Even after reading the very in-depth review, the movie still managed to make you laugh. Also, the comments Kamala and Bruno made to one another throughout the entire movie added another layer of comedy. They thought they were being quiet. Still, they walked no matter how often Nakia threw popcorn at them. You liked Kamala’s friends, who included you in their group.

“Hey, there is an arcade over here. Do you guys want to go?” Bruno asked. He stopped walking so you could catch up. The arcade was loud and unpredictable. There were too many things to account for.

“It’s up to you,” Kamala said. I can take you back home.” Home was safe and predictable—well, your brothers were not, but they knew your boundaries. But you shook your head.

“An arcade sounds fun,” you said. Today was good, and you wanted to keep hanging out with them. If they wanted to go to an arcade, then you would go no matter how much anxiety swirled in your stomach.

Luckily, it wasn’t busy. A small group of kids was at the basketball game, and some were looking at the prizes through the glass box. You bought a card with your tokens, and Kamala grabbed your hand to show you all her favorite games. You were worried that she thought you were clingy, but she kept a tight hold on you. Playing video games with your brothers helped you with some of the games. You beat Kamala on some of the two-player games.

It was fun, and you pretended you were a normal kid for a split second. No deep trauma that kept you awake at night. No scars that ached when it got cold. You were a kid having fun with her friends.

Until you walked alone as you decided on the next game, you needed a few more tickets and could get a new fidget toy. Suddenly, you felt a body crash against your back, and you stumbled forward. Your first thought of who it was was Kamala. For an Avenger, she was very clumsy. “Hey, watch where the fuck you are going,” you turned around to see a guy; he had to be 18.

“You ran into me,” you said. “You should listen to your advice.” You turned away, but he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. He pushed you against the arcade machine. The corner dug into your lower back, and you let out a pained yelp. Fear washed over you. His mouth was moving, but nothing he said mattered to you. It was happening again. Why? You felt frozen. The way his hands felt on you transported you to Jason, Conner, and Dmitri. Then, a new pair of hands were touching you.

“Hey, Y/n,” the voice said. “You’re safe. I need you to breathe for me.” Your chest felt tight, and it was impossible to get air into your lungs. “What do you need?”

“Hands,” you managed. “Get your hands off of me.” They were removed instantly, and you slid down to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest.

“You know you missed me kicking Bruno’s ass in basketball,” it was Kamala. Kamala was in front of you. “I mean, I was cheating, but don’t tell him that.” You managed a chuckle, which Kamala smiled. “Are you back with me?” You nodded, licking your dry lips. “Bruno and Nakia brought that guy to the manager, and he’s calling the police.” Again, you nodded. “Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No,” you finally spoke. The reality of the situation caught up with you, and embarrassment washed over you. You jumped to your feet. “Shit, sorry that was-”

“Whoa,” Kamala stood up slowly with her hand sup. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong.” But you did, and if you just walked away from him, none of this would have happened. “No matter what happened, he should have never put his hands on you.” You nodded again. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.” She let you go to a small back room used for birthday parties. You were grateful she kept her hands to herself when she opened the door. You slumped in one of the chairs and placed your face in your hands. You heard Kamala sit in front of you. “Are you okay?” She finally asked. You sighed.

“I wanted today to be good and normal,” you said. “But it’s like one step forward and four steps back.”

“Isn’t that the point?” You removed your hands and looked at her. “Healing. Some days are better than others. It’s how it is,” she carefully took your hand, and you allowed her to. “And today was fun. I had fun hanging out with you.”

“I had fun, too,” you admitted. She smiled.

“These things will happen,” she continued. “And that is okay. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I will be there to help you. If you want me to, at least,” she added quickly. You smiled.

“As long as I don’t scare you off.”

“You could never,” she spoke with so much confidence, and without hesitation, you almost believed her.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Today was a bad day. You had to go down to the courthouse to prepare for your testimony against Principal Cool. He wasn’t there, but you had to relive the whole ordeal. After that, Billy and Tommy begged to get ice cream. However, a man mistook you for someone else and grabbed you by the arm. The cherry on top was Kamala was on a mission with Carol. You missed the way she could make you smile and laugh.

It was past midnight. No matter how many times you tried to go to bed, every horrible thing flashed through your mind. Your phone buzzing caused you to jump, not expecting a phone call. Somehow, just seeing her name made you smile. It felt like your first genuine smile all day. “Hi,” you answered softly.

“Did I wake you up? I am so sorry. I can never figure out what time zone I’m in,” you giggled and rolled onto your back.

“No, I’ve been up. What are you doing calling me?” you asked. “I thought you said it was impossible to find cell service up there.” She was quiet, but you heard shuffling as if she was lying down.

“We usually can’t, but we found some. So Carol is calling Val, Monica is calling her mom, and I’m calling you.” Oh. That was a surprise.

“Why are you calling me?” She had her parents, brother, and her high school friends.

“Because I wanted to silly,” she answered. “Now, why can’t you sleep? Are you okay?”

“I’m,” Kamala knew bits and pieces of what happened to you. You strayed away from the more graphic details. It wasn’t easy to open up to your therapist. “I’m,” you sighed. “I miss you,” you admitted instead. Sometimes, it was easier to change the direction of the conversation.

“Awe, I miss you too,” you heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll be home soon, but you failed to answer my question.” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m tired,” you pushed the calm of your hand to your eye. And you were. You wanted to move past all of this and live a normal life.

“Get some sleep. I-shit. I’m sorry, I have to go. Carol needs me.” You were lucky she couldn’t see you, or she would have seen your frown. “Look, if you need anything, you call me, okay? I may not respond right away, but I’m here.” You nodded.

“Stay safe, superhero.”

“Always.”

*

Soft knocking woke you up. Slowly, you sat up and looked towards the sound. “Kamala,” you whispered. The girl was smiling on the other side of your window. You climbed over to it and opened it. “What are you doing?” She smiled.

“To see you. Can I come in? It’s cold,” you stepped out of the way, and she crawled through the window. It was a little clumsy. Her foot got caught on the window ledge. A small yelp, and she rolled off your bed and onto the floor. You cringed at the sound and were grateful that your room was on the first floor. Soon, your room was filled with laughter.

“Are you okay?” You closed the window. Kamala nodded and rubbed the back of her head.

“My pride took a hit,” you giggled and helped her. “Hi,” she smiled and sat down on your bed.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well,” she took off her shoes. “The mission is almost over, and Carol doesn’t need me, so she said I could go home.” You raised her eyebrows at her.

“The last time I checked, this isn’t your house,” she said, looking around the room with a confused expression.

“You know, I thought my room looked a little different. There are not enough Captain Marvel posters,” you rolled your eyes. Besides, Carol may not need me, but you do,” you looked at the ground. Kamala placed her arm around your shoulders. That’s okay, you know that? It’s okay to need people.” You shrugged.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered. “You are an Avenger. You have more important things to worry about than someone as broken as me.” Kamala removed her arm and forced you to sit more on the bed. You crossed your legs to give her more room. She grabbed your hands.

“You are not broken. You are healing. That is a big difference. Soon, all these scars will heal,” you stared at your connected hands.

“What if whatever they broke inside me can never be fixed?” Kamala was quiet. She moved your hands so your palms were facing up. Her fingers were arms as she traced the lines on your hand.

“Then you learn to live without those parts,” she bite her lip. “When I discovered the true nature of my abilities, the old me was gone. I had to embrace the person I am now. It’s scary, terrifying really, but you have your family to help you,” she squeezes your hands. “You have me.” You looked at her, and she had a soft smile.

“Can you stay the night?” You whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” you stood up to get some clothes to change into. Once she was ready for bed, you climbed under the covers with her next to you. “For what it’s worth,” she broke the silence. “I think you are pretty great.” You bent your arm to rest your head on your hand. She was lying on her back.

“You think I’m pretty, superhero,” she rolled her eyes and mirrored the way you were laying.

“What if I did?” You raised your eyebrows in question. “I think you are pretty.”

“Oh,” you squeaked and cringed at the nose that escaped. “Scars and all?” You questioned.

“They are kind of badass,” she said. “Makes you all hot with the ladies.” She wiggled her eyebrows. You chuckled and pushed the girl on her shoulder. She fell onto her back.

“You are such a flirt.” You said.

“Just for you, khobsurat,” you titled your head at the foreign word. “It’s Urdu.”

“What does it mean?” You questioned. Kamala faced you.

“Beautiful.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted. You were never in a normal relationship. Everyone wanted something from you. Everyone tried to hurt you. “I’ve been hurt by so many people that promised not to.” Your biological parents used you to get money. Jason promised to love you. Principal Cook and Coach Griffo were hired to protect students. They all hurt you.

“I can’t promise I won’t mess things up because I’m an idiot,” you smiled. “I can be aggressively passionate, overwhelming, and loud, but I will never hurt you like they hurt you.” You nodded, looking down at the shapes on your blanket. “You don’t believe me.” You wanted to. You tried to jump head first, but you weren’t sure if your heart could handle any more heartbreak. It was already bruised, bandaged, and broken.

“I want to. It’s just-”

“Hard?” Kamala guessed. You nodded. “That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” she yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” She nodded and closed her eyes.

“Night, khobsurat,” she whispered. Was it weird that you watched her fall asleep? Maybe. But you liked how peaceful she looked. You weren’t sure when the last peaceful night of sleep you had. You were a little jealous. Sighing, you turned to your side and hoped for a nightmare-free sleep.

*

The sound of thundering footsteps woke you up. It was your only warning before your door opened, the force almost falling off the handles. “Breakfast - hey, what are you doing here, Kamala?” You heard the girl behind you groan. Sometime in the middle of the night, you gravitated towards each other. Her arm is secured around your waist. It wasn’t an uncomfortable position. You only allowed your parents and sometimes your brothers to cuddle you.

“Not sleeping,” she mumbled. Her breath caused goosebumps on your skin. That was uncomfortable. Your mind flashed back to every time someone held you down, breathing against your neck. You tensed up. “Hey, are you okay?” You shook your head.

“Mom!” Billy yelled. “Y/n has a friend over that she didn’t ask permission ,and she’s having a panic attack.”

“Billy,” you hissed, but your brother ran off. Kamala removed her arm and created some healthy distance between you and her. You needed some space, not your brother getting Natasha and announcing you were having a panic attack, which you weren’t. Now, the hurried footsteps were from the Black Widow.

“Is she going to kill me?” You heard Kamala whisper as Natasha slowed down. That was a great question you weren’t 100% sure about.

“Kamala, what the hell are you doing here?” She asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well, you see, Mrs. Romanoff,” Kamala said slowly. “I requested to leave my mission early because she seemed upset.” Your head whipped around to look at her.

“You told me your mission was almost over, and Carol didn’t need you anyone.” Her eyes widened, frantically looking between you and the Russian.

“I did say that, didn’t I? It was a white lie,” she said. “I knew if I told you the truth, you would make me go back, and you sounded so sad on the phone,” she held up her hands, almost to defend herself. “Carol knows the truth, and she approved it. I couldn’t lie to her,” she pointed to Natasha. “She scares me more than you,” she whispered. Her comment made you laugh, but you were still angry at her even though her heart was in the right place. Natasha scuffed.

“I scare you now. Is that so?” You looked at your mom. Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning against the doorway.

“No, ma’am, Mrs. Black Widow, sir.” You laughed so hard that you snorted, which sent Kamala into a fit of laughter. Natasha had a soft smile on her face.

“Breakfast is ready, girls. Come on,”

“Thanks, Mom,” the Black Widow nodded and walked back towards the direction of the kitchen, not bothering to close the door. Kamala let out a shaky breath and slumped back into the mattress. “I can’t believe you lied to me.” You pinched her side, and the girl yelped.

“It was for a good reason,” you rolled your eyes. “Are you telling me if I told you the truth, you’d let me stay?” There was no good reason you had. “Exactly,” she pinched your side back. “How did you sleep?” She sat up and stretched her arms above her head.

“Good, actually,” your mind was blank; no nightmare woke you up.

“Good,” she climbed out of the bed. “Come on. I’m hungry. Your superhero needs food,” she rubbed her stomach.

“My superhero?” She winked at you.

“I like the sound of that,” she teased and grabbed your hand. You were a little stunned, but you led her to the kitchen, where the rest of your family was. My superhero, you liked the sound of it, too.

*

“I’d like to call Y/n Romanoff-Maximoff as my first witness to the stand,” the prosecutor said your name, and your stomach still dropped. This moment was what you were preparing weeks for. All you had to do was take the stand, tell the truth, and be free. Easy minus facing Principal Cook and the side full of his supporters. But you weren’t alone either. Every Avenger that was not on a mission seemed to be there; even the Bartons made the trip to the city. Still, you felt frozen in your seat. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder squeeze it.

“We are right here, bug,” Natasha whispered. “Eyes on us the entire time.” You nodded and forced yourself to stand up. The prosecutor smiled at you as you passed her and headed for the witness stand. You tried to keep your eyes on your section. Even when the Bible was brought over to you so you could swear the truth and nothing but the truth. But you were curious, so your eyes flickered to his defense team. His lawyer was whispering to him, but Cook was watching you. The man smiled and gave you a little wave. You looked away immediately, eyes scanning your section until you found Kamala. She smiled, and the weight on your chest disappeared. You let out a shaky breath. You could do this. You could do this.

*

“I am so proud of you,” Wanda said for what felt like the 10th time once the trial ended. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Alright, darling,” Natasha smiled. “Don’t hog her. She’s got other people to thank for coming.” With a sigh, she let you go. You made your way around the large group right outside the courthouse. You thanked everyone for their support and tried to ignore the press taking your picture. Kamala was the last person you went up to. Immediately, you slumped into her arms.

“Hi,” she whispered. “Are you ready to go home?” You nodded against her. She took your hand and led you to your parent’s car. There was no need to say goodbye as everyone was invited to the house for a small party. It was your one request to do after the trial. You wanted everyone close by for a gentle reminder you weren’t alone.

Once again, you found yourself at the fire pit as you watched the party. Kamala sat down next to you and handed you a plate of food. “Are your parents enjoying themselves?” You saw them talking with Natasha and Wanda. They weren’t at the trail; they stayed at the house to set everything up.

“They are. I hope you are ready to hear many stories of when I was a baby,” you smiled and took a bite of your hamburger. “You know Yelena gave me the shovel talk,” your eyes widened. You knew when the Blonde found out you were dating Kamala; it was only a matter of time before the ‘talk’ happened. “It was nothing bad. She did not threaten bodily harm,” you laughed, a little surprised, and sipped your water. “She did make me promise something.”

“Are you going to tell me what that promise was?” Yelena was with the Bartons. Nate was handing on her back with his arms around her neck. She caught you staring and winked at you.

“She told me this has been the happiest she’s seen you,” you looked at the girl next to you. She was looking forward, but you saw her eyes flick to you. It wasn’t the first time you heard that statement. You look happier. Everyone said it in their way. “Is that true? Do you feel happier?” It was a complicated question because there were days you were on cloud nine. Others felt it impossible to move forward. But she made it better.

“Yeah, I am,” you admitted. “So, what promise did you make to her?” She took her free hand in yours.

“Just to keep you happy,” she kissed your cheek. “And you know how much I love making you smile.” You rolled your eyes and felt your body warm up.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you heard Kate yell. “I think you should cool off.” You gasped as the cool water drenched you and Kamala. You ignored Kamala’s laughter and looked at who was responsible: your brother, the Bartons, and Peter.

“Tommy, Billy, I’m going to kill you.”

“Awe, why?” Tommy whined. “It wasn’t just us.” That was true, but you had a free pass to bully them.

“Besides, it was mom’s idea,” your head snapped to look at the Black Widow, who was now with her sister and Laura. She was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Give me your water gun,” you said to Billy. Your brother looked at you, then Natasha.

“I’ll speak kindly at your funeral, soldier,” he saluted you and handed you the water gun. You placed your now ruined food on Kamala’s plate.

“Khobsurat,” she stood up and grabbed your hand. “Are you sure about this? You have a lot of life to live.”

“Oh my god, guys,” you laughed. “I’ll be fine.” Well, you hopped anyway. Besides, you knew Wanda wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You were secretly her favorite. You pumped the water gun and looked at the Black Widow. She shook her head and mouthed ‘no.’ You winked at her and used your powers to turn invisible. Since the Avengers saved you from Dmitri, you rarely used your powers. Besides the occasional training session Natasha and Wanda put you through. You were grateful for that; what they taught you kept you alive. It felt good to use your powers for fun.

You watched the Black Widow walk over to Wanda and wrap her arms around her waist. She was talking with Maria and Sam. Clever or suicide to use the witch as a shield, but it would not stop you. Carefully, you walked closer to them. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. Natasha placed her head on her shoulder.

“Can I not love on my beautiful wife?” The witch narrowed her eyes at her.

“Who did you piss off?” You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound of your laughter. Wanda glanced around the yard. “Get off of me.” But Natasha held onto her tighter. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova, I will not be your shield because you messed with our enhanced daughter.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back.

“You got your full government name,” he teased. You are in the dog house.” The Black Widow pouted, but her arms remained locked around Wanda.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Wanda’s voice echoed in your head. Usually, it would scare you. Now, it was a calming presence when you felt her magic enter your mind.

‘Sorry, mama,’ You appeared behind Natasha and unleashed your water onto her back. Natasha gasped and moved Wanda to take some of it. You stopped immediately but still got her wet. You cringed. “That was not my fault,” you said. The witch sighed.

“I know,” Red Magic took the water gun out of your hands. “Run Romanoff.” The Black Widow’s eyes were filled with fear, and you laughed as she took off towards Tommy, who threw his water gun at her. Yes, you were happier—all thanks to them.

[porterdavis]

When I was young, like six years old or so, I used to hold my breath when we drove past a cemetery. I feared breathing in dead people air. Heaven help me if we had to stop.

Well, I’m now holding my breath. We need to get past this before I can breathe freely again.

I think when the smoke clears Kamala will be President. I can’t imagine a world where more people choose a lying conman, a felon and adjudicated rapist.

I want no part of that world.

[soon-palestine]

Tim Walz is a regular speaker at the Minnesota Israel lobby where he said anyone who refuses to recognize the genocidal Israeli rape-torture entity is an "anti-Semite", just recently said he fully stands behind Israel's rape and genocide of Palestinians, and wants the Zionist lobby to write the curriculum on Israel and Palestine to erase Palestinians from existence. He literally wants to indoctrinate and brainwash children in school into Zionism and anti-Palestinian genocidal racism. He said that explicitly. He wants to teach kids to hate Palestinians and support their genocide. That is fucking insane. This guy is a fucking deranged freak. And they're memeing him into an epic based radical.

Tim Walz is a fanatical deranged fully owned Israel lobby plaything, exactly like Kamala Harris, and Shapiro, and all the other Democrats. There is no difference in policy that is going happen with these fucking freaks in charge. They're identical to Genocide Joe. Anyone who says otherwise with bullshit coconut memes is lying to you.

They are liars, intentionally lying to you, and pretending like there will be any difference. There will be no difference. Both will keep supporting the genocide of Palestinians because they're owned by the Israel lobby like John Mearsheimer just recently reiterated. As he says, without the US, Israel is nothing. It is beset with crises and on the verge of collapse, but the US keeps bailing it out with endless weapons, funding, and their own military moving in to protect this rape-torture death-cult masquerading as a society.

They will allow Israel to do whatever it wants, because it is Israel Uber Alles for these genocidal Zionist scum.

The only thing that has a possibility of changing it is when Palestinians, Arab and Muslim Americans and all those who oppose the genocide in states like Michigan say explicitly that they will not vote for Genocidal Zionist Queen Kamala Harris and Tim Walz unless they right now, at this very moment, make a policy change. Not bullshit abstract rhetoric and promises, right now. Now.

Don't buy the bullshit about "well she's just VP now, she has no power but she and Walz get in they will suddenly become epic and based and stop the genocide, just vote for them!" She is the head of the Democratic Party as the nominee she can force Genocide Joe to take a position if she wants to rescue her Presidential campaign and announce her own explicit policy of stopping funding, arms and diplomatic and military protection to the Israeli rape-cult. If she chooses not to, it means she is fine with losing and sticking with the Israel lobby.

I want you to reflect on just how unbelievably deranged the Tim Walz position of "we need to change the curriculum to brainwash our children into supporting Zionist genocide of evil Palestinian sub-human barbarians" is. His main selling point is "I was a high school teacher!", and he's endorsing pushing genocidal propaganda onto children to get them to support genocide. Holy shit. This by itself is disqualifying. Just change the context. Imagine he said: "All these people who oppose the Russian war on Ukraine, they're all brainwashed by TikTok and Twitter. We need to change the curriculum and you, the Russia lobby in the US, will have to change it for us, so we can brainwash our kids into supporting the war on Ukraine." Or even more absurd because it's difficult to even imagine it: Say he said it about Israel. Reverse the order: "All these people supporting the genocide of Palestinians are doing it based on propaganda from the Israel lobby and Zionists. We need to change the curriculum in schools to ensure that our children will learn the true history of the Nakba and the genocide and rape and massacre of Palestinians by Zionists and oppose it." He would not only not be VP, he would not be a dog-catcher in Minnesota, even though this is actually true. This curriculum would actually be based in actual history and not deranged Zionist propaganda. But he said it about Palestinians. He said he wants the genocidal Zionist Israel lobby in his state and every other state and country on earth to determine the curriculum of what children are forced to learn. Because his policy is not state-limited, he's expressing a universal view there about what he believes is best to teach all children everywhere. Tim Walz wants every US state and country on earth to let genocidal Zionists write their high school curriculum such that the rape and genocide of Palestinians is made justifiable by Israeli propaganda about how pristine Saintly white European Zionist Jews came to an empty desert land and made it bloom and then those fake Arabs made up their Palestinian identity to kill them because they're by their nature evil sub-human monsters. That's the Israeli Zionist narrative that Tim Walz wants every child on earth to be brainwashed into so that TikTok and Twitter posts of Israel beheading, maiming, massacring and raping Palestinian babies, children, boys, girls, women and men will be acceptable to them. They'll see it and go: "They deserve it, my high school teacher taught me they're evil barbarian terrorists." Tim Walz wants to dehumanize Palestinians through mass universal brainwashing of children so that their rape and genocide is made justifiable to them. This is utter madness. This guy is a fucking deranged and depraved monstrous freak. Holy shit.

[farfromstrange]

Hello, I am not okay. I’m having thoughts. Someone revive me please and thank you.

Fuck.

Spoilers for DD:BA episodes 5 & 6 under the cut!

Episode 5:

Whoever had the idea for Matt to work with Kamala’s Dad to stop a bank robbery and use that as the filler episode deserves a fucking raise. Like, right now. That was the best fucking MCU cameo I could’ve fucking asked for. I love Yusuf, and I love how much he loves his daughter, and I just know Kamala lost it when her father told her about what happened.

Matt walking straight back into that bank as soon as he heard it was being robbed, acting like he had no idea was the most fucking insufferable and badass Matt Murdock thing this guy could’ve done.

Also, can we talk about the fight scene? That was a fight scene. Thank you, Marvel. Not only did he use his tie to choke the guy, he also choked him with his thighs. I have never been more turned in my life.

If you were expecting me to be elaborate about this episode, you’re going to have to wait for my episode 6 thoughts because episode 5 just made me horny.

I did not think I’d hear Charlie using an Irish accent in the year of 2025, but I am living for this shit! All I could think about was Michael Kinsella the moment he opened his mouth. Charlie Cox, the man that you are. Honestly.

He was smug. He was acting clueless. He was acting so helpless he became insufferable. This was out Matt Murdock in his fucking element. His cane turned into Billy clubs (love the two-in-one upgrade, by the way), he pulled the robber’s mask over his head so he wouldn’t be recognized, and then he beat the shit out of him, even breaking his leg like a fucking glow stick. Yes sir!

Also, I feel like that was basically just hinting at him suiting up again in the next episode. Fucking perfect. Never has a filler episode made the most sense.

Episode 6:

Frank was right, Matt is being haunted.

He prayed over Foggy’s prayer card, calls it “checking in”, and fucking kissed that piece of paper. This? This fucking broke me. He kissed it. That means more than just carrying it around in his pocket, or having it beside him when he works. He remembers the night Foggy died so vividly, and he prays because he needs to feel closer to him. I am sobbing.

Maybe for a moment it did help him, and maybe it does give him a little faith to check in on his best friend, but it doesn’t bring Foggy back, and it doesn’t erase all the shit that happened since he died. It doesn’t change the fact that Matt’s life imploded, and Charlie’s acting was just so fucking impeccable, I cried.

Moving on. Heather wanting to research vigilantes for her next book is not going to end well. I’m calling it right now. I mean, was it funny she suggested talking to Frank and Matt straight up laughing in her face because the idea is surreal? Yes. Did he have the blankest expression known to man when she mentioned Daredevil and did that make me cackle? Also yes. But I also still believe that him hiding the truth from her is not going to end well, and if she keeps pressing the issue, she might get hurt.

Also, her boyfriend who had been taken hostage in a bank robbery, like, a day ago acting like nothing happened (because he knew it was going to work out in the end, and that had nothing to do with faith) understandably made her worry, but she also acted like it didn’t even surprise her, so I don’t know what’s funnier, his awful attempts at lying or her awful attempts at playing along with his bullshit.

Also, Matt acting like everything’s normal reminds me of Season 1 when he was (awfully) lying to both Foggy and Karen and acting all oblivious about literally everything.

Now, Angela coming to Matt to do something about what her uncle had been working on, and Matt acting like he couldn’t do anything about it, I believe was his last attempt at holding onto his ‘let the system handle it’ attitude. I think he made his decision the moment Cherry told him about Muse, but it took for Angela to walk right into Muse’s arms for him to suit up again. And I think that, in itself, was amazingly well done.

Fisk’s anti-vigilante task force to catch Muse was expected, and I’m honestly not surprised he chose the corrupt cops for his cause. Frank is going to have a field day with them.

Anyway. There is so much to unpack about the last twenty minutes or so. We have Matt who said ‘fuck it’ the moment he realized Angela was in danger. Yes, he said the f-word. Disney let him say the f-word. And it was the perfect timing for that.

We have Matt who hadn’t put on the suit in over a year. And we have Fisk who handed Adam an axe, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to take him down, and then beating him in front of the same painting Matt once beat him before.

The original Daredevil theme played. Matt beat Muse to a pulp, and he was about to strangle him—yes, I’m convinced if Angela’s heart hadn’t stopped, he would’ve crossed the line again. Fisk was being Fisk. And putting both scenes together and switching between them was cinematic genius, in my opinion.

Matt has so much darkness inside him and he finally let some of it out. That grin, the way he was taking the punches like he didn’t even care, blood spewing everywhere, and he just kept going until he realized the reason he came was dying. And he couldn’t let Angela die.

He saved her life, quite literally, and when she called him Daredevil and he said, “I’m here,” my only thought was, we are so back. Like, yes, you’re here. And that suit is staying on for the foreseeable future. He tasted blood again.

And don’t even get me started on Matt’s prayer in the background as Fisk dragged Adam back into his cell, as Matt was giving CPR to Angela. He was so desperate not to lose her, too.

Matt embraced the darkness, and while he did that, they played a fucking church choir in the background, and Fisk also embraced his darkness again in the most violent of ways. Tasking corrupt cops with getting rid of vigilantes is one thing, beating his wife’s affair after basically handing him an axe to kill him is another. He played with that man like a predator would play with his prey. I was obsessed.

Matt is so much darker now than he was ever before. I personally believe the lines have been impossibly blurred, and now that he has finally let go, everything is just going to cave in. The past and the present are going to try and bury him. With Muse and Fisk and everything else, the odds are stacked against him, and I can’t wait to see where this goes.

Also, honorary mention to them displaying Matt using the disability aid on his laptop because yes, he’s blind. Yes, he needs accommodations. Just because he has heightened senses that allow him to fight doesn’t mean he’s not blind. He needs that shit to function and do his job. Anyway, I just thought that was a lovely and necessary detail.

And another note: I need to fuck this man. Or I need him to fuck me. Or both. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🫒 Ladies, This Olive Branch Is Now a Blunt Weapon.

🫒You Can Sit on It and Spin.🫒

It’s not misogyny if it’s anthropology. It’s not hate if it’s facts. And it’s not a friendship if he’s picturing you naked every time you speak.

📢 Here’s Some Game. Take It or Cry Into Your “Bestie’s” Chest About It.

Alright, sugar snap. You ready? Because this ain’t a hug, a pep talk, or a wine-fueled empowerment sesh. This is unfiltered, certified, big-brained male reality — dipped in blunt-force truth and wrapped in the sarcasm of every man who’s tolerated your delusions out of primal hope.

Here’s the game: Your “platonic male friend”? He doesn’t actually like you. He doesn’t respect you as an intellectual equal. And if he’s masculine at all, you talking is just background noise between two biological urges: food and sex.

And you’re not the food.

📉 Feminine Friendship Value = Brutally Overrated

You walk around acting like your company is the gift that keeps on giving. Like your conversation skills and vibe energy are so spiritually nourishing that Chad should thank you for letting him hear your lukewarm takes on astrology and why you “felt a weird energy shift last Tuesday.”

Reality? He’s not there for your energy. He’s there for the 0.03% chance that someday you’ll stop pretending to be emotionally unavailable and let him see one boob.

You’re not a cherished soul twin. You’re a maybe. A buffer zone between his current dry spell and the next woman with functioning hormones and lower standards.

And the more introspective you think you are? The more mentally excruciating you are to him. He doesn’t want to “get deep.” He wants to get in — and your mouth running is in the way.

📚 Science-Backed Slap: He’s Lying, You’re Deluded

Let’s get nerdy for a sec.

👨‍🔬 University of Wisconsin Study (Bleske-Rechek, 2012):

Men are chronically incapable of being “just friends” with women they find even remotely attractive. Women, meanwhile, have no idea.

Translation: He’s playing the long con. And you’re out here bragging about your “male bestie” like you’re some kind of emotional chess grandmaster. No, babe. You’re the pawn. And he’s been waiting five years for a weak moment, a sad Spotify playlist, and one cheap bottle of red wine.

🤡 Feminist Flex = Masculine Recoil

You think men like your confidence? Your sass? Your political takes? Your girlboss energy?

They hate it. They tolerate it with Olympic-level discipline because they know one wrong word = canceled, unf*cked, and ghosted.

Your opinions don’t “intimidate” men. They repulse them. Every time you say something smug about “patriarchy” or your “truth,” a masculine man adds one more reason to never call you again.

🧠 The Ancient Male Brain is Subconsciously OFFENDED That You’re Even Speaking to Him

Let me explain something no man will ever admit publicly:

When a man hears a woman talking like she’s on his level, something ancient and violent in him twitches.

That’s not sexism. That’s tribal programming. He’s carrying generations of men who bled, built, warred, farmed, bled again — and you’re out here interrupting his sentence to “circle back” to something you saw on TikTok?

That noise you hear isn’t agreement. It’s every male ancestor he’s ever had collectively rolling their eyes in unison.

💄 The Kamala Factor: Feminism’s Final Boss of Male Disinterest

No masculine man liked Kamala Harris. They pretended to — for the same reason they pretend to care about your brunch drama: Access preservation.

Kamala spent an entire campaign cackling through hard questions and ducking any masculine challenge — especially The Rogan Gauntlet™️. Why?

Because deep down, she knew one conversation with a dominant man would peel the “empowerment” off her like wet acrylics in a thunderstorm.

If you think men were inspired by her, you’re clinically divorced from testosterone.

🔍 Feminist Self-Destruction Checklist™️

Let’s make it real uncomfortable. Tally your L’s:

🔲 I think my friendship is a gift to men. 🔲 I brag about having male best friends who “respect” me. 🔲 I believe Kamala is empowering. 🔲 I’ve used the phrase “toxic masculinity” unironically. 🔲 I’ve rejected a man and still expected him to be emotionally available to me. 🔲 I talk more than I listen — especially to men. 🔲 I think disagreeing with me is “violence.” 🔲 I think this blog is “misogynistic” but I still read all 2,500 words.

Score Breakdown:

1-3: ✨ Garden-Variety Delusion

4-6: 🧠 Full-Blown Ego Schizophrenia

7-8: 💀 You are the reason male podcasts exist

🥩 Final Truth Steak: You Are Not the Prize

Your “friendship” is not a blessing. Your opinions are not a service. Your emotional needs are not currency. And your proximity to men doesn’t equal respect — it equals strategic patience until you let your guard down, your looks fade, or your last coping mechanism fails.

You think you’re the selector? Nah, you’re the fallback.

He’s not honoring you. He’s waiting for you to slip.

🧠 TL;DR:

He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to conquer.

You’re not respected — you’re silently tolerated.

Kamala is a walking 🚩 for men with working frontal lobes.

The masculine mind actively recoils at your “strong woman” act.

Your friendship is worthless unless it converts.

This isn’t misogyny. This is species maintenance.

⚖️⚖️⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This truth-punch was brought to you by evolution, free speech, and the masculine burden of restraint. If you feel triggered, please consult your nearest hormone or coping mechanism. We do not offer refunds for emotional fragility. Block, cry, or change. Those are your options.

⚖️⚖️⚖️

📢 Send this to a woman who thinks being “one of the boys” is her love language. 💬 Comment if your male best friend stopped replying after you started dating Chad. 📩 DM this to a dude who's trapped in the emotional hostage zone. 🎯 Reblog if you've ever faked interest just to keep the option alive.

[mtftm-ironman]

Hey, it's been a minute.

Let me tell you boys and boys in progress what happened.

I got into this kink for political reasons. I'm American. You may notice that I stopped posting around when Kamala showed up because I foolishly allowed myself to hope that she had a chance in hell. I sort of assumed back in, what, late May, that the very worst I'd heard was a foregone conclusion. So I figured I would just get out ahead of it. Hence, this blog.

I've come to my senses and realized that that is kind of ridiculous. It reached a head in October when I had a panic attack and went to the hospital. I'm okay now...I just needed to change some things.

I made an appointment the other day to yeet my balls into the phantom zone. So that's pretty cool. We will see if it actually happens.

Andi is a character, I'm sorry, I've been lying to you. This is just a kink. In case it wasn't obvious this whole post is ooc. Please tell me in my DMs and the replies that it really isn't a kink though, I promise I'll jerk off to it like a good boy. 👉👈

I'll be around. This is still hotter than hell, and I like writing. I'm a little scared of what I'm capable of writing if I allow the muse to take me. So watch for that.

Sorry to burst your bubble. Continue jerking off to whatever it was you were jerking off to before. Good boy. <3

[mythica-ithaca]

I've decided to stop typing out the same responses to the same braindead US Liberal questions so I'm making this post in order to save time.

•"But Kamala has called for a ceasefire!"

She has called for a temporary humanitarian pause, which she and Biden have worked tirelessly for months to completely rebrand into a call for "ceasefire". If they truly wanted a permanent ceasefire they wouldn't have just sent Israel $20+ billion in financial aid and weapons. Use your brains. That is not something that someone who opposes more violence would do. Empty words mean nothing. She has not taken any actions so far that actually demonstrate a work towards a permanent ceasefire, in fact all her actions have been in complete opposite to her calls for one. She is lying to you and telling you what you want to hear in order to get elected. And you are letting her by falling it and not demanding any sort of results. And just because she wont spell it out for you like Trump will, her "ironclad support" for Israel translates to her allowing them to "finish the job" should it come down to it as well. There is no other way to interpret that.

•Trump can't be reasoned with but Kamala can be convinced/pushed left after we vote her in!

You people said this about Biden as well and look how well that worked out. Around 200k Palestinians are dead, and so is Roe v Wade, which they had the opportunity to codify and they didn't. His own staff were protesting in front of the white house and he didn't budge an inch. Neither will Kamala. You are deluding yourselves into believing that after you give these people all the power in the world that you have any sway over them whatsoever. Our votes are our leverage, and you are throwing yours away by voting for words over actions. You get exactly what you vote for, there is no putting in the work afterwards. And a vote for Kamala at this point is a vote for Genocide.

•"Why are you protesting Kamala and not Trump?!"

First of all. Do you people think he can be reasoned with or not? What is the point of going to his rallies with his violent supporters if you think he can't be swayed anyways? Cause if he's not going to change his position and he's not going to drop out, what exactly do you think it would accomplish?

Second of all, Trump isn't the one committing genocide right now. The democrats are in power. They are the ones responsible for this and the ones with the power to stop it. They deserve to be protested.

Third of all, we aren't voting for Trump regardless. Kamala is the one who needs to change her position and show actual results in order to earn our votes. If you think you can "push them left" then prove it and stop bitching when people actually start pushing instead of sitting around in complacency just because the dems are in charge. Supporting a genocide hurts her prospects way more than having anti genocide protestors at her rallies does. She wants to be president of the united states, she deserves constant pressure and criticism.

•"Trump will be even worse for Palestine! Vote for the lesser evil!"

This is incredibly callous, cruel and dismissive of what is happening to Palestine under the democrats right now. Gaza is completely destroyed already. Families are torn apart. Thousands of babies and children and men and women are literally being torn apart every. single. day. And every single day Kamala and Biden wake up and decide not to stop it. To not even condemn it. Their administration actively lies about it. We are far past the point of it getting worse. There is nothing worse than hell on earth. Would you ever tell a jewish person that the holocaust "could have been worse", simply because not every single jew was wiped out? By saying it can always get worse, you are ignoring and tolerating how catastrophic things are right now.

This is what voting for the "lesser" evil and voting blue no matter who has come to. There is no option that doesn't result in continued genocide. There is no lesser evil anymore. Only one that you will personally benefit from more than the other. You cannot look at what is happening in Palestine and Sudan and Congo and begin to tell me that the democrats are in any way "less" evil. You are downplaying the severity and suffering of these conflicts by implying that, and it's disgusting.

You need to realize that this line of thinking is enabling you to tolerate and excuse certain levels of depravity and that is unacceptable. In no world is the a "less evil" form of genocide.

•"What you expect Kamala to do about it right now? Shes not even president yet!"

This is probably the most pathetic attempt to absolve her of any responsibility. She is the fucking Vice President. She is not just there for show, she has power and influence. She is 100% able to disagree with and speak out against policy. She could have even resigned in protest if she was truly disgusted by Bidens actions. She acts his advisor and is currently not giving any push back to Biden on his policies. Biden can't just fire her and she's already the nominee.

•"We need to save ourselves first in order to help others!"

We are in a sinking ship and you are pushing peoples heads underwater and drowning them in order to get yourselves to a lifeboat, all while promising that once you're safe you'll help pull others up. But by the time you save yourselves everyone else is already dead and you're stranded all alone.

Nobody wants your fucking help. They want you to stop giving power to people fundamentally indifferent to human life so you can live just a bit more comfortably at the expense of everyone else's suffering. Stop trying to play the saviors of the world. They know that you will always have an excuse as to why it's not the right time for you to help anyways. They know you will never put anyone or anything before yourselves. And you all know it too.

•"There's never going to be a perfect candidate! Get over it!"

In what world is demanding someone be against genocide equal to demanding a perfect candidate? I'm aware that I am not going to ever agree with a politician, or anyone really, on every single issue. I'm absolutely willing to make sacrifices in certain areas. Genocide is a red line. Just like I wouldn't vote for anyone who was against abortion or lgbt rights, I'm not voting for anyone who is fundamentally indifferent to human rights.

•"So you want to just sacrifice (insert any vulnerable group in America)?"

No. It is a myth that you can sacrifice one group to liberate another. You can't sacrifice Palestinians in order to save your own rights. Ask yourselves why you should even have to. There are better ways to secure rights like abortion and healthcare than voting blue no matter who. Stop letting the democrats dangle abortion right over your heads in order to scare you into silence. Our rights and Palestinian live are not mutually exclusive, you are allowed to demand both. You are not allowed to act like our lives are somehow more important than theirs. What are you going to do when it's abortion, lgbt, disabled, or bipoc rights that have to be sacrificed to save democracy? Because it will eventually come to that if we let this "lesser evil" shit continue and refuse to fight for our rights and just keep giving more of them up in order to preserve others just a little longer.

•"You want a revolution and yet you haven't firebombed a Walmart??"

I mean. Considering that you all insist you can just sit back vote your way out of fascism by backing whatever candidate they decide to throw at you without making a single demand. Yeah, you're right, it's starting to look more likely that violence will be the only solution to this problem. But we aren't there yet. Because far too many of you are too comfortable living the way we do at the expense of people suffering all over the world. Until a significant amount of you become actually uncomfortable with the way things are, instead of just saying that you are and then continuing to reap the benefits of living in the empire, there won't be a revolution. Violent or otherwise. Because you're all content to play this rigged game. You are just comfortable enough with the way things are to be more scared of losing what little you have than fighting for what we deserve. A better world is still too inconvenient for you to do more than cast a vote every four years.

RIP to Aaron Bushnell btw. He lit himself on fire in order to protest Americas role in all this. I'd say that's braver than firebombing a walmart.

•"So you want us to just not vote at all then!?"

I want you to stop voting for empty words and demand action before throwing away your leverage. There is no pushing them left after you give them all the power in the world. You get exactly what you vote for. You say that voting third party is throwing your vote away, but what the hell do you call voting for empty promises over and over again? Bullshitting harm reduction? Because I don't think constant school shootings and police brutality is harm reduction.

The democrats have been promising $15 minimum wage for so long that it isn't even sufficient anymore. Promised to codify Roe. Didn't deliver. Promised assault rifle bans. Didn't deliver. Haven't abolished ICE. Haven't defunded or reformed the police. Haven't guaranteed parental leave or child care. Students are still drowning in debt. Kamala has stated that she will not push for medicare for all. How is it that they've been incapable of any of these things for years after having majority multiple times, and yet somehow the republicans are supposed to be able to pass project 2025 with ease?

I am telling you to demand that these people start earning your votes. Because you have made them entirely too comfortable by telling them to their faces that you will vote for them no matter what their policies are by chanting, 'vote blue no matter who'. Every single time you do that, you sacrifice something else instead of gaining anything for the vulnerable people you say you care about.

•"Democracy is on the ballot! We have to save democracy!"

You mean the democracy in which we have two choices, except one choice will be the end of democracy, so we really only have one choice, and that choice was chosen for us because the current president refused to step down until after the primaries, where his party made sure he had no real opponent in the first place, so they just went with his right hand man as a replacement? The democracy currently forcing you choose the annihilation of an entire people in order to maybe secure some of your own rights for just a little longer? That democracy? Does that sound like a system worth saving anymore in the first place?

You will not save democracy by committing genocide in front of the entire fucking world. And if you could, it wouldn't be worth saving.

[foxy-kitsune-fox]

Black people tell me vote Kamala Harris but it will never happen, I see her as an Indian not Black, so stop lying. Donald Trump is a better option to be trusted and he’s the opposite of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris when it comes to economy, immigration, inflation and uncensored.

~ Baron Tremayne Caple A.K.A. Foxy Fox/Foxy Kitsune Fox/Fox Man/Fox King/King Fox/Gemini Man/Autism Man/Rainbow Man Is A Metrosexual/God Of Autism/King Of Autism/God Of Asperger/King Of Asperger 🦊

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Josephine Harvey at HuffPost:

Lara Trump, without a hint of irony, on Jan. 6 accused Democrats of lying about wanting a peaceful transition of power and claimed that they are “trying to thwart the will of the American people.” Earlier on Monday, Vice President Kamala Harris oversaw a smooth congressional ceremony certifying Donald Trump’s election win, four years after the president-elect’s lies about voter fraud incited a mob of his supporters to attack the U.S. Capitol in an attempt to stop that same process for President Joe Biden. Trump has still not stopped lying that the 2020 election was “stolen” from him and asserts the violent offenders that day were “peaceful.” But Lara Trump, former co-chair of the Republican National Committee, says it’s Democrats who are “great at lying and great at gaslighting.” “They’ve lied about just about everything,” she said on Fox News’ “Hannity,” claiming Democrats “lied when they said they wanted a smooth and peaceful transition.”

She accused them of “throwing everything in Donald Trump’s way, trying to thwart the will of the American people” and called it “absolutely disgraceful.”

Hey Lara: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

From the 01.06.2025 edition of FNC's Hannity:

[mugiwara-lucy]

Wow just when you think Couch Boy can’t sink any lower:

So he’s not only applauding a woman for being trashy and crass but he’s also saying women voting for Harris are doing so on “Menstrual Madness”:

And DON'T forget, he admitted to LYING about Haitians eating dogs and cats just for clicks:

This guy is a disgusting piece of shit and with nine days until the election, I’d just like to say this serves as a reminder to NOT get complacent just because things are going great for us! If we take our feet off the brakes and stop now, not ONLY does that mean Trump wins but given his poor condition (the mother fucker has been canceling events and sways like a lost puppy), I have no doubt we’ll end up with PRESIDENT VANCE after a year or two. 🤢

And given his comments; DEFINITELY expect for the 19th Amendment to be repealed. If not outright repealed, I have no doubt it’ll be “sent back to the states” 🙄 And sadly that's best case scenario.....

BUT to AVOID that hell; Here is the link to register to vote along with the deadlines varying by state! Also, your own vote isn’t enough! Get as many people as you can to vote for Kamala be it your friends, cousins, parents, grandparents, old friends from high school and college, coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, stepchildren (if they’re 18 and over) and the list goes on and on but every vote counts! ALSO PLEASE check your registration DAILY because MAGA WILL purge your voter registration!!

And early voting has started! And if you don’t wanna vote on November 5th, Early Voting is another option! Like I said get as many people as you know and try early voting that way you can avoid MAGA fuckery on November 5th! Here’s the link down below listing the dates by state:

Mail in Ballots are ANOTHER option I highly recommend!! And like I said get as many people as you can to take advantage of this option! BUT if you decide to go with Mail In/Absentee Ballots; PLEASE mail your ballots at the ACTUAL USPS office!! That way MAGAts won't fuck with it.

And lastly voting abroad is something I’ve seen people take advantage of and i HIGHLY recommend it!! Here’s the link!!

I'll end this post with this:

If you get complacent AGAIN like in 2016, you WILL end up with PRESIDENT JD VANCE.

Choose Wisely.

[eaudrey35]

All these ppl running criticizing Kamala Harris just STFU. She did what she was suppose to do.

Blame falls squarely in these lying white women who went n a booth and voted their whiteness first and womenhood second

Blame goes to these black men who even when Kamala Harris laid a plan out for them it wasn't good enough. They went into a booth and voted for stop and frisk and complete police immunity to kill them

Blame goes to the Hispanic and Asian community who need to be close to whiteness will hurt plenty of their family members

The Blame goes to the elderly who can barely make it but put their Social security at risk.

Blame goes to Union workers who voted against their interest and now will see collective bargaining be destroyed

Blame goes to the middle class working ppl who saw that Elon Musk himself said there will be temporary suffering yet never gave a time limit r said millionaires and billionaires would have to suffer.

All these groups of ppl will have a fuck around and find out moment

[arielsojourner]

So in Star Trek the Next Generation 5x21 Episode "The Perfect Mate" the actress who will go on to be Jean Grey has her first debut as a mutant metamorph Kamala, who becomes the perfect spouse to whomever she bonds to. I liked the episode when I saw it as a kid. I rewatched this episode today and now that I know I'm ace and may or may not be aro, it is a really weird episode. Some of the weirdness:

Kamala never interacts with any woman. Dr. Crusher is quick to argue for her rights but never actually TALKS with her! And if Kamala is so lonely why isn't she allowed to talk to other women? Probably to avoid lesbian makeouts, but if Kirk could kiss Uhura, why not Crusher and Kamala? Even if we were pretending everyone was straight, why couldn't she just bond with Crusher and Troi and have an emotional conflict over doing her duty without just being horny for everyone man she meets.

Kamala empathically bonds with Picard not the man she needs to bond with to stop a war, her husband doesn't care about marrying her until he sees her and then seems to be in lust with her, and bonding to Picard makes her resolve to go through with the arranged marriage as a loveless duty even stronger. So does that mean she is Picardromantic an Picardsexual, but will never romantically love her husband but is fine having sex with him?

And then there is a throwaway line that men are frequently born metamorphs but women only once every 7 generations. What happens to the men I ask? Kamala was raised like royalty. What about the men? Inquiring minds want to know how that even works in their society? How highly sought after are these men?

I guess this whole rambling post is because I watched this episode with new eyes and have so many questions. And then I thought, what if there was an asexual character? Even better an aroace character? And I thought of how many shows or movies or episodes conflicts could be resolved if there was only an aro/ace/aroace character.

And then Data is chosen to be Kamala's chaperone since she can't entice him physically (since she is super horny) and she cannot read him with her empathy. She can't be trapped in her room with no friends (and no woman wants to see her apparently) so Data is the answer to "protect" her from her own libido and the libido of others. So are we to read Data as aroace?

(Do we consider Data ace or aroace? I never thought of it before. I think based on the season one episode with Tasha Yar he is sex neutral at a minimum. We know he is aroace but that is because he doesn't have emotions, but then he gets his emotion chip so then he isn't aro anymore, I think? Does that make him allo? I've headcannoned lots of people ace/aro/aroace but never Data!)

But even if we are to read him as a "Safe" non-allo, Data is entirely incompetent almost portrayed with a childlike simplicity so much so that he can't tell when men are hitting on Kamala and lying to him (I mean I know I am not good at picking up flirting but the show is painfully obvious even for me that Kamala wants to party with the miners hanging out on the ship and can't keep her hands of Riker. I can pick up on what she wants).

But after one near miss in Ten Forward, Data is just fired from his job as chaperone and conversation partner. Why? An aroace character or even an ace or an aro character would be the perfect solution, so to create imaginary conflict we just make the only arguably aroace character incompetent/useless?

But then, I don't really vibe with Data being any sort of ace or aro or aroace representation (his wishes to be "human" = only allos are human). But if he is a standing for an aroace character whom she could be "safe" with, he is ditched as any sort of possible companion. So he just is a failure at keeping people company because she can't get him aroused or make him romantically interested?

I am so confused.

[starvulture]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (9)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: hint of spice, grief, returning cameo characters

Word Count: 3.4k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The darkness does little to help with your disorientation and panic when you wake from your nightmare, your eyes and nose still itching from memories of powdered concrete and dust clouding the air.

“Fuck,” you whisper, sitting up.

It’s just you tonight.

Your body is tense with cold and fear, the chill seeping further into you as air touches your now exposed skin, damp with sweat. You shiver, hands on your face helping to ground and orient you in the present moment, the bare skin of your hand covering your face instead of suit on skin like in the nightmare. The time on your phone, charging on the bedside table, reads 4:43 in the morning.

You scramble out of bed, trading shorts for sweats and throwing a sweater on over your still sweat-damp shirt. You need warmth right now; being clean can wait until the sun’s up and you won’t fall back asleep under the warm water of the shower. Instead, you relocate to the living room, settling under the blankets on the couch.

As jittery as you are, sleep claims you again with unmatched hunger.

“Two Miguels, huh?” Gwen is saying. She’s stopped by your dimension again, just for the day, to do laundry and catch up. “Is the new one going to help lead? I heard he always has sunglasses on, what’s the deal with that?”

You sip at your smoothie. “I don’t think so; and they protect his eyes. I think they're even more sensitive than our—than the old Miguel’s. Or something.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And how is our Miguel?”

You shoot her a half-hearted glare. “He’s fine. Why ask me?”

She shrugs, changing gears. “You know, I wonder how similar the two are.”

“Well, I’ve only talked to the new one two times,” you shrug. “And the first one barely counts, he’d only just gotten invited back to HQ.”

“What’s his dimension like?”

“You’ll have to ask Peter and Jess. They recruited him.”

“Not you?” Gwen seems surprised.

You shake your head. “No, I was uh…” you look to the side, almost grimacing as your brain flings itself through a jeopardy wheel of potential answers; It lands on honesty. “Miguel vetoed me going. Jess and Peter went instead.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips in thought. “Huh.”

You change the subject and ask her how Hobie is instead. She takes the bait and immediately springs into telling you how much fun it is to hang out with Hobie and his friends—Karl, Kamala, Robbie, Rick, and Riri.

You’re just glad it sounds like she has friends that get it. Friends that know.

“You seem in better spirits.”

“Yeah,” you shrug a single shoulder and offer a smile, standing side by side with Karen in the elevator going up.

She returns it, turning her head forward.

You’ve never been particularly close with your coworkers, with anybody in your own dimension. Not for a while. You’ve forgotten how to connect normally, what it’s like to be a civilian, and you feel it keenly in this moment standing awkwardly side by side—

“A couple of us are going out for drinks later,” she suddenly mentions, and you risk an awkward glance at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, pausing. “Well, really it’s just me and Ben. But you should come. Um, and some of my other friends might be there too.”

You’ve always liked Karen, always felt like there was an understanding sadness in her pale fae-like features. So you only pause for a moment before you accept, because really, why not? “I’d love to,” you say, and she smiles more openly when your eyes meet again. “What time?”

You’re only a little late when you arrive at the address Karen gave you; a somewhat seedy little dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen. The sign is old, not yet updated to the popular clean lights in the rest of the city, and the windows could use a good cleaning. The bikes out front are a mix of old school gas powered vintage pieces with iridescent shimmering puddles under exhaust pipes, and the new clean energy models quickly taking over the city; incentivized by the joint Federal and Stark Green Energy trade-in programs. The sight of the gas ones doesn’t surprise you—people will always want to hold onto their classics—but the amount of them does.

Inside the bar is dim and yellow, warm light tricking bodies into feeling even warmer than the air already is, and therefore thirstier.

Karen waves you down from a table in the back, and with a returning wave that is in actuality just a slightly lifted hand, you make a beeline towards her and the little table.

Across from Karen you recognize the back of Ben Urich’s head. Beside him is the back of a stranger with short and carefully groomed dark hair, a sliver of his pale skin visible between his hair and the collar of his dress shirt. Across from that stranger and next to Karen is another man you don't know, with a round face and small nose made somehow smaller by his long dark blond hair.

“You must be Karen’s other friend from the paper!” He says, face lighting up when you’re within earshot of the table. Ben turns around in his seat, standing and greeting you by name with a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder. The man sitting next to him doesn’t stand, smiling politely under his dark glasses.

Karen introduces you by name to the two new men, and then introduces them to you in turn. “This is Foggy,” she says, and the round faced man stands to shake your hand. “And Matt.”

Matt doesn’t stand, but lifts his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, ending the sentence with your name.

“Likewise,” you say. “It’s good to get out of the house.”

“Spend a lot of time working from home?” Foggy asks, settling back into his chair as you take your own seat on the end of the table between Karen and Ben.

“All the time. I never go anywhere.” You try not to say it too dryly, try not to make the lie sound like the inside joke it feels like.

“What sort of pieces do you write for the paper?” Matt asks, tone polite, voice soft and smooth.

“Human interest pieces,” you shrug. “Community events. A lot of filler.”

Matt hums.

“Matt and Foggy have a law office a few blocks from here,” Karen says.

“Karen’s been a great help,” Foggy says. “Since it’s just me and Matty here a lot of things fall to the side. Don’t know where we’d be without her!”

“Oh, stop it,” Karen says, blushing under Foggy’s praise as the table laughs.

“That sounds like her,” Ben says.

“Have you gotten a drink yet?” Matt asks you across the table.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Stick with the bottled stuff,” Foggy advises, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “We love Josie, but her cocktails are basically rubbing alcohol.”

You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh behind closed lips.

“I need a refill,” Matt says. “I’ll go with you.”

It’s hard to miss the long suffering look that Foggy shares with Karen.

The nearly black glass of his glasses worn indoors suddenly makes sense when he stands and you see the white cane in his hand. You fall into step beside him, walking the short distance to the bar.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, waiting for Josie to approach your end of the counter.

“Whatever she offers,” he chuckles. “Unless she offers a cocktail. Foggy’s not wrong about the strength.”

“I’ve got a strong tolerance,” you grin, leaning on the counter next to him. “So how’d you meet Karen?”

He pauses, tapping his fingers on the bartop as he thinks. “It’s a long story. Probably better if she tells it.”

You nod, and then realize he can’t see it. “Sorry. That awkward silence was me nodding.”

He laughs. “Right.”

Josie arrives, and you get one of the same beers that Matt orders.

As the night continues you find that you get along quite well with the group, even teaming up to play pool. Ben sits out, heading home to his wife Doris shortly after the game starts.

“This so isn’t fair,” Foggy says after you guide Matt through sinking another ball into a corner pocket.

“It’s not my fault you underestimated my teammate,” Matt says, a devilish smirk curving across his face. “I think it’s more than fair.”

Foggy looks like he wants to say something, his face about ten thousand shades of done. Karen just laughs.

The warm fun of the evening at Josie’s keeps your spirits high through your later patrol as Spider. You stop an ATM robbery with ease, and nip a burglar’s mission in the bud when you catch him in his attempt to break and enter a small business. You even walk a young woman home after her late shift at a cocktail bar.

It’s nearly five again when you at last get home, crawling in through your bedroom window. You don’t even bother to get the suit off before your head hits the pillow and sleep claims you.

The mouth on your neck seems to drain every thought from your mind. You have no sense or memory of what you were doing before he came up behind you to put his arms around your chest, holding you securely against his own.

“What was that, honey?” He whispers, nipping your ear with his lips.

Whatever noise you let out would embarrass you beyond belief, if it weren’t for the hand now snaking down your front.

“Dishes,” you say, breathless. That’s right—you had been loading the dishwasher before this.

“Yeah honey? Dishes?”

The tips of his fingers dip under the waistband of your pants and your attempt at an affirmative hum of ‘Mhm’ turns into a desperate little whimper.

“Uh-huh?” He mocks, his hand pushing lower—

You wake with a gasp, eyes wide and heart thumping.

A weight shifts on the mattress next to you, and you realize there’s an arm around your waist—not low and hungry like in your dream, but simply resting warm and heavy over your side.

Miguel. Miguel’s in your bed, cuddled up behind you.

And you just had a dirty dream about him.

It’s no secret, of course, you know he’s attractive. Hell, you know you’ve been attracted to him. But you thought you’d buried it when… whenever this whole emotional support sleeping—actually sleeping—together thing became a regularity.

Fuck. Fuck.

It seems absence doesn’t just make the heart grow fonder, it digs up repressed sexual desires and reanimates them in the form of dreams.

You don’t know if you’re glad that at least it wasn’t one of your nightmares again. The one with the falling building, or the one with your aunt, or the new one with the woman you couldn’t save last month–

No.

You force the thoughts out of your mind, sitting upright and throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Miguel’s arm falls off of you, hand landing on the mattress beside your hip, punctuated by the half-asleep grunt of someone suddenly roused from sleep.

Shit. Miguel. You forgot again.

You take a steadying breath as you feel the mattress shift behind you.

Miguel’s half asleep voice mumbles your name, the letters coming out in the shape of a question. His hand by your hip moves, sliding up your side to rest on your back. “Are you okay?”

You inhale sharp through your nose, the tips of his fingers rooted to your spine. His hand slides away, the mattress shifting behind you again as he sits up. Even with your back to him you can feel the weight of his presence, distinct from his weight on the mattress, just behind you. His hand returns to rest on your shoulder—your breath hitches.

Too similar.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Breathe.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “Just–” Fuck, you can’t think with his warmth at your back. “Water.” You blurt. Yeah, water is good. Water will get you out of the room for a second, at least, it’ll let you calm down enough to dig a deeper hole to bury the dream in.

Miguel hums, removing his hand as you rise from the bed and escape to the kitchen.

You don’t bother to turn the lights on—your vision may not be as enhanced as Miguel’s in the dark, but you can still see more than the average human. Even if you couldn’t, you know your home well enough to navigate it blindfolded.

Get it together.

You linger in the kitchen, clearing your mind, finding the threads of exhaustion in your body and pulling them around yourself. It helps; the tired ache and desire for warmth, safety, and rest burying the dream back down under meters of dirt in a coffin of spider silk.

Miguel is still awake when you return, just barely. You can see the silhouette of his head lift off the pillow to look at you when you step through the door, hear the soft sound of him resting back down into the pillow when you slide back into bed beside him. If your heart thumps a little harder at the way his arm slides around you as he rolls closer, well, it doesn’t mean anything.

Life falls into a new, comfortable routine. You’ve been getting less backup calls and anomaly assignments from Lyla, and so you focus on your own dimension. It’s easy, it’s clean, and with nearly all of your villains already down and out for the time being it means you can focus on helping the little people. You save cats from trees, you help old ladies, you watch the news and see other heroes taking down their own enemies before you can even think to step foot out the door to help.

When you’re not doing the little things as Spider, you’re writing for the New York Bulletin, or spending time with your new acquaintances—Karen, Foggy, and Matt have invited you out twice more to join them at Josie’s. Despite how stilted and awkward you feel, and the slight distance you’re mindful to keep, it’s nice to make friends. Local friends.

But today you’re visiting HQ. You tell yourself it’s for the gym, the facilities there far more helpful for training your abilities than anything back home—which is true, but isn’t what made you open a portal to Earth-928 in the first place. You do fully intend on visiting the training facilities, but…

Exiting the lobby, you hesitate before continuing towards Miguel’s lab instead of towards the training facilities—maybe he’ll have free time and end up joining you. As unlikely as the idea is, you get the feeling he’ll appreciate the invite regardless.

The lab seems even more dimly lit than usual, and far too quiet. There’s no dim yellow glow from the platform, no sound from surveillance footage or old recordings that Miguel still tortures himself with.

The air is so still that you hesitate to even breathe.

Needless to say, Lyla’s sudden appearance and chirp of your name in the air in front of your face nearly launches you out of your skin.

“Lyla,” you say, a hand over your racing heart.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there,” she says, flickering into an image of apologetic raised hands. “What can I do for you?”

“I was looking for Miguel,” you say, turning your head as if you simply missed him lurking in a dark corner.

“Miguel is out on personal business right now,” she says, flipping through a conjured secretary notepad. “But I can take a message if you’d like!”

You try not to let the disappointment, or the surprise, show too strongly on your face or the automatic droop of your shoulders. “Oh, uh, no that’s okay! Just thought I’d drop by. Um,” you falter under her unblinking friendly smile. “I guess just tell him I said hi?”

Ugh. Pathetic.

“Sure thing!” Lyla says, her little notepad disappearing into the ether.

You’re distracted the whole time through your exercises in the training facility, caught off kilter several times to the point that you just pack up and leave early.

It’s not that he’s gone that bothers you, nor that he has personal things to take care of. No, it’s the fact that you have no clue what his personal life could be like. You know he doesn't exactly get out much just to socialize, and you’re almost sure he doesn't have family left here.

Right? Why else would he have left to take the place of his other self?

It’s not the first time in recent days you’ve been reminded of how little you really know about the man who regularly visits to sleep in your bed. Sure, you know how to comfort him when grief sneaks it’s deadly hands around his neck, you know what foods he likes and which Spider-People he favors. You know he makes a show of being a grump, but the fact that the Spidey Special is still on the menu is proof enough that as long as it isn’t interfering with something serious he’ll let others carry on with their jokes even at his expense. You know how soft and gentle his touch can be, how his voice sounds when sliding into or out of the cloudy world of dreams. You know he’s lonelier than he lets on around the others.

You know how much he misses his daughter.

Still, the fact that you have no idea what the rest of his life could be like unsettles you, leaves you feeling off kilter and strange.

—

“I’m glad you could take time off for today,” the man next to Miguel says, hands in his coat pockets.

The two men are sitting on a bench, green trimmed grass spread out around them under healthy trees that provide dappled shade from the afternoon sun. The polished headstones around them spread out like a cut down orchard, neat lines and rows of the long lost in juxtaposition with the hard messy feelings they’ve left behind. The mausoleum just a few meters away helps Miguel to feel less exposed in the open graveyard. He’s wearing sunglasses to shield from the clear sky; Gabriel is wearing the usual stupid goggles up on his forehead. Miguel still doesn't know if they serve any practical purpose.

“Of course,” Miguel says, arms crossed over his stomach as he slouches on the bench in civilian clothes, all soft grays and charcoal.

“How’s work?”

Miguel sighs. “Oh, you know.”

“I don’t,” is Gabriel’s reply, turning his body toward Miguel. “You don’t talk about it.”

Miguel tilts his head back, eyes getting lost in the leaves on the branch above the bench.

“I’m your brother, Miggy. I’d like to know how your life is going, even if it is all crazy sci-fi bullshit.”

Miguel closes his eyes, sighing again and tucking his chin down. “It’s not that exciting.”

Gabriel scoffs. “Yeah. Because being the head of a government sanctioned multiversal maintenance society is boring. You’re so full of shit.” It’s not mean, not even annoyed. He’s chuckling as he says it. “Shock it,” he says, clapping a hand on Miguel’s shoulder and standing. “Since we’re here, let's visit the other two.”

“Mom’ll get jealous,” Miguel says dryly. “It’s supposed to be her day.”

“So we’ll just go hang out at her headstone again for a while before we leave,” Gabriel grins. “Come on. When’s the last time you visited them?”

Miguel has to pull his thoughts back on subject, away from—

“A while.”

“That’s what I thought. You know, I was here with Xina last month, visiting Dana and....”

Miguel walks beside his brother, swallowing down the lump rising in his choked throat as Gabriel recounts the short anecdote. He doesn’t like visiting this part of the cemetery, too many mistakes memorialized in stone, buried under his feet.

“How is Xina?”

“She got a promotion, apparently.” Gabriel glances over at him, Miguel carefully schooling his face. “You should reach out. She might even talk to your grumpy ass.”

Miguel shakes his head, a bittersweet smile. “We always just end up talking about…”

Gabriel sighs, patting him on the back. “I know.” A pause. “That doesn't always have to be a bad thing.”

Miguel's mind wanders again. 

Warmth. Blankets. Cooking breakfast for two.

“I know.”

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