#Sad he didn't win the vote

[grape-souffle]

Worth it.

[k2ulhu]

hulu was doing live coverage of the election until 2:00am, at which point my power randomly went out and when I reopened the hulu app on my tv the election coverage was replaced with

[ceasarslegion]

if you guys dont know anything about canadian politics, i dont think you realize how insane this liberal victory is.

just months ago, the conservatives had an almost guaranteed win. Trudeau was insanely unpopular even among his own party, the progressive vote was split between them and the NDP, and the conservatives had gained so much more ground with the up-and-comer poilievre who came in with a canadian trump campaign strategy. We were resigned to losing, canadian minorities were making backup plans for their livelihoods in the likely event that we would be targeted by poilievre and his goons. His victory seemed like a sad inevitability that we could only stand up for so long against

And then trump was elected. and then canadians woke the fuck up from their conservative pipe dreams as we were hit with tariffs and annexation threats. and then trudeau resigned, leaving his bad blood behind. and then the NDP nuked themselves by publicly betraying the minorities they claimed to serve with their "we dont care who you vote for as long as they arent liberal" strategy, ending the split progressive vote as they were left behind. and then Mark Carney, the best possible liberal leader for this moment in time to win as many people over as possible, was elected liberal leader. Not all of these things are good, many are terrible, many are complicated, but politics is incredibly complicated, and it's the system we work on, so it's the hand we have to play.

And it was close tonight. It was uncomfortably, nauseatingly close, even with all these factors at play, even with ridings in the prariries of all regions going red, because that's how guaranteed a conservative win seemed not too long ago.

But they didn't win. We won.

I want us all to take this moment in time and think back on it when it all seems hopeless and like it'll never be right again. An anti-doomerism moment if you will. Because he was going to win, that wasn't a question, he WAS going to win. And then he didn't.

NEVER. KILL. YOURSELF.

[digitald0rk]

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — nerding out with your beloved bf :3

warnings — slightly suggestive and uh the usual pet names? he calls you his angel too <3 NOT PROOFREAD!! also mentions of dante sparda because the dmc anime is coming out 'm so excited!!!

w.c — 1.5 k.

a/n — THANK U SM FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS WHAT THE HELL SJSHJEHSLSKD. love you all <3

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]

READ PART [ 1 ] HERE.

if you're into video games, he's going out of his way to learn all about your faves.

when it comes to fighter games, thinks he's soooo slick looking up combos and learning them, he's all like “heh :3 gonna sweep them off their feet” and then gets absolutely BODIED LMAO.

if you show him no mercy he'll eventually start to get frustrated, not at you obviously you're his precious angel <3

“i’m not sulking.” he says, while clearly sulking. he was supposed to impress you! why are you so good at this :(

if he doesn't get a single win he's gonna suffocate one of your plushies when you're out of sight, it keeps staring at him, is that little fella mocking him? oh it'll pay for that.

you look at him amusedly when you come back to see the very obvious dent on your plushie, caused by a certain someone's fist.

“mark.” your eyes dart between the deformed head of your plushie and your boyfriend, biting back a smile.

“yeah baby?” he's all :3 bats his eyelashes all pretty at you, acting like he didn't just beat the shit out of your plushie like BOY YOU'RE NOT SLY.

but he is pretty, so you'll spare him, for now, not in the game though :p

on the topic of video games, he's actually decent at competitive games :] he loves playing them with you but if you die in the middle of a match he gets unmotivated to finish it (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

unless someone was trying to rizz you up or something during the game then yeah, HE'S GOING TO WIN.

do not play dress to impress in front of this man, he gets awfully competitive about it.

“pretty sure even cecil can dress better than that.”

“baby i think that's an eight year old.”

“still, cecil has more drip.”

gets all smug when he wins, god forbid he's not in top three he's gonna go on a rant about how unfair the world is.

he'll always vote for your fits positively though! even though they might be…. questionable at times but he loves his baby :D

minecraft with your boyfriend is actually really fun! except he accidentally set the palace that you built on fire once and literally REFUSED to touch the game for weeks after that (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

will get sad if an animal dies :(

has names for all your dogs and cats, calls them your children.

“don't forget, we gotta feed our children babe.” he tells you, sipping on his milkshake.

and normally you'd smile and say something equally silly except for the fact that you two were currently hanging out with a couple of friends and that sentence certainly earned some looks.

“you two-”

“in minecraft!” you'd clarify, and cue the feigned annoyance filled groans and mutters of how you two are insufferable.

also one time he got so invested in building that he literally stayed up for ten hours, building the perfect wedding venue for you two!

asked [ forced ] everyone to make minecraft accounts and invited them all to your wedding in minecraft.

he kisses you in real life too when your characters “smooch” in the pixelated game.

he's gonna marry you for real one day, just you wait.

his irises turn into literal hearts when you pull up in a cosplay.

he would also love to cosplay with you!

bonus points if it's one of his favorite characters, his ass is NOT TAKING HIS HANDS OFF OF YOU LMAOOOOOO.

and if you two do end up getting freaky, like roleplaying as the characters then yeah rip bed.

matching literally anything! matching kirby socks? sure why the hell not. matching seance dog mugs? hell yeah! he's all for it!

and yes, you two have some nerdy matching pj set.

and matching underwear too :3 you jokingly bought them but he isn't playing around when he wears them seance dog boxers!

you both keep trying to recruit oliver in one of your favorite fandoms, although the little thraxan has other plans.

“guys no im not watching [ insert media name here ] !” “but oliverrr :(”

you're bother super annoying <3

sometimes mark will send you photos of oliver enjoying some piece of media you're into and act like a proud dad.

you two go to comic con together and get carried away, ending up with wayyy too much merch.

“mark, baby i love you but i don't think we need another signed poster.” you try reasoning with him, only to eat those words back the second he flashes you his sad puppy dog eyes.

you sigh, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?

but you have him wrapped around your finger too, because when you look at him like that, asking him to take you to this signing event of your favorite foreign author, he wastes no time in picking you up and flying you wherever you want <3

no matter the time, he just wants to see his sweetheart happy :]

you two are insufferable with your references, sometimes people think you two are talking in some alien language.

rex hears mark on the phone, just who the hell is dante sparda? and why has mark mentioned this name like thirty thousand times in the past half an hour he's been on the phone with you?

as rex said, “you two match each other's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.”

“hey babe i got us these matching swords!” he smiles, all happy at four in the morning at your window like it's the most normal thing ever.

you squint a little before making out the sword's design, oh it's from your favorite game.

he doesn't protest in the slightest when you attack him with kisses, this is where he belongs.

he adores movie nights, you two cuddled up on his bed, watching something he loves? he's never been happier.

you two once had to stop making out because the plot got thicker, so you two locked in! even though your lips are swollen and shiny just like his from the shared passion a few minutes ago. he could care less about the next plot hole when you're right here, pressed up against him.

he can't stop staring at your lips, god you're addicting.

he snaps out of it when his favorite character dies though ⁠(⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠∧⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠) aw man.

building legos together! he gets all bashful when you praise him when he finishes a part of the main piece.

reward him with kisses and he'll melt.

he once tried making you pancakes, except he tried to draw one of your favorite characters with the pancake batter. and he's no artist, but he tried his best.

he's now on his 48458th attempt and it's looking like your favorite character….a little….. not really.

he'll just douse them in maple syrup, that makes everything better.

when you question the odd shaped pancakes in your sleepy dazed state, he ends up telling you the truth, embarrassed.

but when you kiss him oh so softly, your kiss far sweeter than any maple syrup, his nervousness melts off until all there's left is you.

you and only you.

you two take those extremely specific uquiz quizes together like "which xyz character would hate you the most" or "who do you kin from xyz"

if he doesn't get his fav when he takes a "which character are you from seance dog" quiz he'll be all :[

"this is rigged." he says, taking another one in hopes of getting his favorite character this time.

going to the sea and painting on the pebbles and rocks with him, he loves watching the sunlight reflect off of your hair, you look like an angel, his angel. and god your eyes-

“hey does this look like eric cartman?” you show him the paintwork on your rock, snapping him out of his lovesick trance.

“babe, why is he on ozempic?” that comment makes you two giggle.

he continues, “should've picked a bigger rock, my love.”

“i saved that one for you….. you know, if we were penguins i would you the shiniest, prettiest rock i could find, which is this one so….” you shift closer to him, placing the pretty rock onto his palm.

he presses a kiss to the side of your head, fiddling with the rock in his hand. “you're adorable.”

he presses a kiss to that same rock when he's away from you on a mission, it grounds him, knowing you're there, waiting for him.

when you two end up moving in together, unpacking things takes less time than decorating your shared room.

hanging posters with him, asking him if they're centred. putting your favorite figurines on the shelves along with your favorite comics, building your own safe haven. the whole room embodies you both so well, anyone who sets foot in this room would instantly be met with a bunch of your and his interests.

his dumbass <3 accidentally ends up leaving one of his figurines on the bed, so when you two are needily making out and grinding, excited that you two wouldn't have to be quiet or keep your voices down — straddling him and pushing him down on the bed, he lets out a small squeal of surprise.

you two stop, looking at each other all 0_0

“sorry, i think-” he starts, reaching behind his back to pull out the culprit of poking him in the back, and surely it was none other than his favorite seance dog figurine, the absurdity of it all is enough to make you chuckle, he laughs sheepishly with you. a little embarrassed that seance dog ruined the sexy atmosphere.

but when you put the figurine on the nightstand, turning it to face the wall, he realizes he's gonna have the best night of his life.

and oh boy was he right :3

© digitald0rk 2025. do not translate, copy or steal any of my work RAHHHH. thanks for reading and remember you're awesomesauce! want more? click here ★

[daylighted]

dean winchester x angel!reader — it's okay, it's okay.

or, dean breaks everything he touches, including himself. or, the first time dove has to use her grace.

cw, angst, injured!dean, he walks you through it kind of, dean whimpers but at what cost

word count: 2k

notes, this doesn't count toward my vote. if dean x angel wins u WILL get another i am loyal to my word!! i just got this idea n needed to get it out before i forget < 3 sorry ahead of time if it is 1) sad or 2) sucks it's late ok </3

★ ˚⋆

everyone always says the same thing when the worst comes true, but it reigns true every time - this was never meant to happen.

sure, dean could have been more careful. sure, he could have spent more time worrying about his mortal, breakable body, and not the ageless angel who'd attached to his hip. he'd gotten... used to it, more than anything, because accepting it wasn't the right word.

no, he did not want you at his side at every turn. that gave him another body to fuss over, to make sure didn't get hurt, no matter the cost. even if it was irrational. but dammit, it was you.

you were resilient. he was certain you could take care of yourself, but he panicked when he saw the claw emerging from the pitch black, heading right for your direction. dean knew, logically, that you sensed it coming, that you could have protected yourself-

he took the swipe of gashes to the shoulder anyways. a long swipe. shoulder to sternum - couldn't feel it through the daze of adrenaline, but he could feel the blood. so much blood, and so close to his heart-

"dean!"

your voice pulses in his ears like its own heartbeat. is he losing consciousness? fuck.

your footsteps pound on the dusty dirt trail in the forest, running up to where he was slumped against the nearest tree. dean coughed, blood staining his bottom lip, metal and copper clashing violently on his tongue.

"hi, dove," he whispers, trying to breath life back into his voice, falling just short. "little worse for wear, aren't i?"

"now is not the time for jokes." you kneel next to him, your eyes flitting quickly over his body until they land on the wet crimson slashes across his chest. "you bleed."

his lips quirk, even as the adrenaline is wearing and he's starting to feel the stark pain of the extent of his injuries, because he can't help it. "i do bleed," he says, wincing as the huff of laughter falls out of his mouth rips at his already ripped skin. "s'what happens when you get hurt."

"why did you get hurt?" you demand, fierce and defiant even when he's facing death. good god, he adored you. "i will live. i heal. you..."

dean knew. he knew this. how did he explain this to you, when you didn't even understand what his feelings meant?

"i've heard i look pretty good covered in blood," he says instead. "that true?"

your nimble fingers clamp hard on dean's jaw, forcing him to turn and look at you. so much feist in one ageless body. "now. is not. the time."

"you're so pretty," he breathes, his eyes melting in and out of focus. "so damn pretty when you're mad at me."

your face contorts in a mix of confusion and outrage. this, he thought, is why he doesn't tell you the other things he's been dying for in his mind. as much as dean loves your furious pout, as much as he loves the way you take that damn lip between your teeth again as you think how to stop his dying, it's better to keep you at a distance.

"the bag," dean nods to the duffel he'd dropped in his haste, a couple of feet from you, "get the bag for me, sweet girl."

he can sense the why? on your lips, and smiles, just slightly, when it doesn't come. too detrimental of circumstances for you to question is every ask and call, it seems. how bittersweet it is to be a priority only when he's dying.

you clamber back over with the bag, all but dropping it on his knee in your hurry. dean didn't even tell you what to look for before you'd unzipped it and started digging. "there's bandage wrap in there, somewhere," he rasps out, nodding his head toward you, even though you're not looking at him, "need it. to stop the bleeding."

your hands are shaking. he has nothing else to look at but you - wouldn't look anywhere else regardless - but it's the first thing his eyes lock on. "hey," he says, a little more firmly, even as it makes him wince, "s'okay. it's okay."

"you are dying, and i am useless." you snatch up a small square of shiny wrapping, and he has an explanation for why, exactly, he carries condoms everywhere, but you don't even question it. he forgot that you were too focused on him to be your usual, curious self. "this? will it protect you?"

dean pauses. now is not the time, your words echo in his head, and still, he can't help it. "protects a part of me."

you scoff, and he's upset, for a second, that the joke goes over your head. another thing he should have taught you about. upset again when you the condom also goes over your head and into the dirt with your dismissive toss.

should have. how dramatic was that? already thinking in past tense, because the pain has ebbed again, and that's never good. he was relatively calm before when he could feel it, knowing that, at the very least, it meant he could feel, but-

your hands pluck out the little roll of bandage, shaking fingers tugging at the loose end and starting to unravel it. "yeah, you've got it. not useless, dove," he mumbles, shaking his head like he vehemently denies that bogus claim. "never useless."

"what do i do with it?"

dean lifts his shirt up and over again, wincing again with a deep rumbling whimper as he feels the tear again of his skin, his muscles. a wave of nausea renders him dizzy and speechless. his arms stay raised, his vision swimming.

your irritation is so evident on your face that he's certain, right then, he's never seen you so frustrated. dean wanted to ask why, especially after all of the times you've asked him that. he didn't understand your irritation with yourself. all he needed from you was to cover up the wounds so that you could heal him without risk of him bleeding out.

"you want picked up?" you ask, tilting your head in front of dean's to force his eyes to focus on you again. "now is not the time, again."

"no-" he says, lips twitching in the corners. at the very least, you were keeping him present and conscious, what with all of your adorable attitude. he licks his dry, cracked lips and tries to ignore the copper taste on his tongue. "take that end and wrap it around. like..."

dean doesn't know if you know what a vest is, or a sash, because you don't seem to know half as much as castiel does. maybe what cas meant when he brought you into the winchesters' lives was that your naivety ran so deep because you were a new angel, a fawn trying to catch its footing and stumbling along the way.

he watches as it clicks in your mind, what he means. you are so much smarter than he gives you credit for. he leans forward, mouth falling open in a shuddery, whimpering gasp. luckily, you don't stop what you're doing and ask if he's okay. your care, it seems, either doesn't extend that far, or extends farther due to the gravity of the situation.

you straddle him as you wrap the gauze around and around, and it's damn distracting, having you this close to him again. "do it until you don't see any more of the claw marks, yeah?"

your head moves in a nod but your eyes never once leave him, focused on the task at hand. winding and winding, the gauze tightening and tightening, until his chest feels stiff with it.

"s'good," he says, raising his hand to rest his fingers on your wrist. "great job, sweet girl. here-"

his fingers walk their way down your hand until he takes the roll of gauze between them, moving the strip to his teeth and tearing until it ripped free from the roll. "there we go."

again, you stare at him expectantly, only this time, he's staring right back at you with the same anticipation in his eyes. "go on, dove. do your divine thing."

a blink. a second blink. "i don't know how."

his heart, he thinks, falls down to his ass. bypasses the gaping wound in his sternum and drops.

"that would have been great to know before i took the fucking-" he can't even be mad at you. he's dizzy, starting to shiver, and yet the idea of hurting you made him feel worse than all of those things combined.

"i did not ask you to!" no, you didn't, but what was a man who was used to jumping in front of the bullets to do? "i did not ask, and you were not supposed to be stupid."

dean forces a strained smile. "sweetheart, s'kind of my thing."

you bend down, still straddling, close enough that your nose brushes his. fuck. he was going to die without knowing what it was like to close that gap. "not the time-"

"for jokes, yeah, i- i get that," he grumbles, throat thick, spluttering on a cough. blood splatters in a hapless pattern on his shirt, on yours. "think i'm- allowed t'joke when i'm dyin'."

"you are not." your eyes stay locked onto his. there's so much passion in them that they glimmer and glitter even now, in the dead of night. "not, to either of those things. i will..."

dean hates your expression. the defeated, helpless panic in it a stark contrast to your resilient eyes. he wants to comfort you. wants to smooth the pinched skin between your brows with his thumb, but everything's starting to feel a little heavy. "cas-" his head thumps back against the wall. "uses his hands. touch."

your expression softens. there it is again, that determined gleam overtaking every other emotion on your face. there's my girl, he thinks, even though it's a thought he's never allowed himself to think before, about you. his inhibitions are lessened now, though, and who is he to hide a thing from you?

slowly, your hands lift to his cheeks, cupping his face between your palms. your skin is so warm, and his is so cold, and he can't look away from your eyes. dean's never believed in someone as much as he does you, right now.

your eyes close, and he's still looking. his head leans forward and knocks against yours, like he can't get close enough. he'd do anything to know what your lips tasted like. if they were as sweet as you were, or as furious as you tended to get.

"it's not-" you growl, and he opens his mouth to say something to counteract the rush of heat your gravelly voice shoots through his icy veins, when- "fuck it."

two beats of shock wrack through him, and he has no time, not a split second at all, to prepare for the way your mouth crashes into his. his eyes blink wide in shock before a wave of warmth starts in his chest and spreads like roots through his blood and deep in his veins. he sees the blue-white flash of your grace as it spreads around the both of you.

you pull back so suddenly that your lips pop, staring at him expectantly. no, not dean, his red soaked bandages on the outside of his torn shirt. you give him no time to process it before you're clawing at it, tearing it down the center. "jesus, dove-" his eyes drop down to follow your gaze.

the only remnants of his injury were the dried streaks of blood running down his chest, pale red and shiny in the areas still drying in the cold night air.

you laugh, soft and hesitant, and it's the prettiest noise dean has ever heard. "if i'd known i just had t'almost die t'get you to kiss me," he says slowly, "i'd have done it a lot sooner."

even if it was hardly a kiss - more of a collision. he'd just have to teach you how he liked it, later.

tags,

@figthoughts, @jasvtsc, @titsout4nicholas, @deanswidow, @whyyouegg,

@bombarda-babe, @whisperingwillowxox, @underground-secret,

@bitchykittenconnoisseur, @jensenacklesantidote,

@keira-kaz2y5, @ostaramoon, @depressionbarbie2023, @ultravi0lence14, @loverslantern,

@bleuatlas, @minettacreekk, @sthefferrete

[wtfaniii]

Letters of destiny

● Summary: You entered the games for a reason, to pay for your husband's chemotherapy, there you meet someone who has a story quite similar to yours

● Note: This language is not my original language but I hope you like this one shot, I am open to recommendations and constructive criticism! <3

● Warning: Nothing, it's just a bit short since I'm not used to writing through this medium yet, but I hope you like it.

You didn't want to die, you had a man at home who adored you and was worried about you and you hoped to arrive with lots of money and a future resolved but the timer of the games only went backwards and you still couldn't find a group to join.

The carousel game had never been your strong suit, socializing was not your role but it was that or die, a group of 7 players and you were still standing there looking in all directions not knowing what to do until you felt someone pull your arm and in the blink of an eye you were in a compartment with 6 other people.

"Thank you..." The girl murmured, releasing the air she hadn't realized she had trapped in her lungs.

"It's nothing" answered player 456 also with accelerated breathing and taking gasps of air while he rested his hands on his knees, when the shots and screams were heard he looked through the half-open space of the door with sadness. You had already seen him, he was the one who guided them in the first game of green light and red light, the one who says he has already participated and won, maybe he tried to persuade people to withdraw from these games but he only encouraged you, it means that there is a chance to win.

"Thank you..." The young woman repeated, giving a slight bow to which he turned to look at her, confused, as did the rest of those who were there. "You motivated me to continue in these games."

You felt another look on you, only this one was full of curiosity and intensity. Without knowing it, you had said the same words as another person, only this time they were sincere.

"Are you crazy, women?" Another man shouted next to him, one with the number 390 "If what we want is for these games to end!"

You just stayed quiet with your eyes open, when your gaze moved towards the one who kept looking at you, you met with an intense and serious look, it made you shrink in your place just a little.

The door opened again and they all left together, happy to have been able to save their lives once again.

You were about to leave but before you could, one of them pulled you over with his arm around your shoulders with great confidence and shouted victoriously. "If we change her mind, we'll have another point in our favor!" he exclaimed, the number 388, pointing at the blue circle on your chest. "I don't understand."

"In the next vote, we want these games to end" said 456.

You remained silent again, not knowing what to answer. You didn't want to leave, or at least not yet. You wanted to gather more than enough money for your husband. Without realizing it, the same look as before fell on you.

[...]

There was a certain tension in the room, the participants had not yet voted but it was clear that the results would be almost even.

"My husband... has stage three lung cancer..." the woman murmured with her eyes downcast. "The doctors say that he can be cured, they would only remove the cancerous tumor but he would have to undergo several consultations and therapies that we cannot afford." The players surrounding her looked at her with pity and empathy. "I have already sold... many of our belongings, I have double shifts at work, I even mortgaged my house but it is not enough... and if I do not get enough money I will lose everything..." She did not even notice when the tears fell from her eyes without stopping.

It was horrible, most of them had debts but she would be left on the street and a widow if she did not get what she needed.

In-ho watched her silently as he bit his inner right cheek, the situation she was going through was not very different from the one he experienced, he knew that feeling of helplessness, of wanting to scream to the world how much he hated it for those cards of destiny "Does your husband know you came here?" he asked softly walking towards her to sit next to her.

She shook her head softly, wiping her tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "I just told him that I had found a way to get a lot of money." Now, that was cruel, even if she didn't achieve his goal and died on the way, her husband would think that she had abandoned him, along with his debts. "I want to go back home," she said after a few seconds of silence. "I think it's time to end this." She would vote to leave. The money they had so far was still not the amount they required, but it would be very helpful.

"You will get out of here," 001 said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a slight closed-lip smile.

It was strange to feel that comforting and warm feeling from a stranger, but she was grateful for it. They say that eyes say more than words, and the look he gave her was one of genuine empathy.

As if he understood her in her current state of life.

"We'll get out of here," 456 now assured her with a nod.

Her knew them very little but without much hesitation her trusted them, even when Gi-hun told them about his plan on how to confront the guards and reach the people who led these games she agreed to help them, she needed the prize but not at the cost of more innocent deaths.

However, In-ho was not very happy about her following them, from the little he had read about her in her file he knew that she didn't hurt a fly, it would be useless to take her. Besides, the time to play in the yard was over, it was time to return to the command where he belonged and he didn't want the girl to be involved in this. But unfortunately for him he had no other option but to say "After you" as they left there being guided by the guard.

He was supposed to keep control over his emotions but it was inevitable, when he realized she was already too deep in his mind to let her die.

It was as if he had a chance to help his past self, that poor man who fell into misery being reflected by the young woman inexperienced in weapons who only sought to keep the love of her life alive.

It was an ironic and cruel letter from his destiny.

[ablobwhowrites]

Could you write what the toys would do while y/n is at work? New home sweet home au It is very good. As a Brazilian follower, I love your writings.

(I can absolutely. And thanks for liking my writing, I honestly didn't think my au would be this popular)

Basically it sums up to this.

Y/n: "well what do you guys do when I'm normal gone?"

The toys: "wait for you to get back."

But mostly stay in the house or go play in the big backyard, do regular chores or something like that as y/n got out their old consoles plus they can watch TV all they want but as long as they don't break anything like the tv once because Doey got angry once and accidentally broke it. (I've also been watching to many of INUbis smiling critters animations and love watching them. Also like to think that's what the smiling critters look like in their small forms because I believe they can change their sizes like how catnap did in the game for his nightmare form but that might be because of the red smoke. But my point still stands.) dogday basically checks the window near the door to check if it's y/n coming back home after work but gets sad when it isn't like bro is that image of SpongeBob excited looking out the window to see y/n come back home. There's nothing much to do in the house other than that.

During the winter seasons, Doey likes to stay inside but can go outside to play in the snow (but in multiple thick jackets and big snow boots with a scarf) but gets upset that he can't be outside of so long in the show like everyone else (boogey bot can't because rust and the snow messing with the electrics) but y/n does try to make him feel better. Harleys being a who he is, doesn't come out of his room, he doesn't like the stink eyes he gets when being out of his room and that yarnaby prefers to be around y/n more and not being in control of Harley so yeah. Harley hates the cold, hates the heat and basically hates everything but his complaining won't get him anything so he stays silent.

Plus I do imagine when it's dinner or something. Y/n makes this system of voting for meals (if the ingredients haven't been eaten by picky piggy) and sometimes the toys disagree with each other and once bubba went to y/n with a briefcase and all and basically sets up a whole presentation on why tonights dinner should be lasagna and not meatloaf. Plus y/n puts a lot of work into their meals plus they have to make two dishes because some eat more food than others (Harley doesn't really eat nor does boogey but boogey bot gets a seat at the table and Harley being him, doesn't attend but sometimes he does but stays quiet most of the time)

I do imagine y/n is significantly more stronger after being able to rest fully and get proper food and water in their system. Cause y/n is strong on the factory when basically sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty but not like bro is 10x's stronger and it's scary cause like y/n can basically now carry a fridge full of food with some easy but like a solid 2 minutes but can fully carry those heavy TV's from like the 90's with ease and is slowly getting stronger.

Also totally imagining icky licky due to his personality. He challenged y/n to a arm wrestle and of course y/n beats him over and over again but icky is a sore loser and keeps going even if his shoulder and arm really hurts and y/n isn't even putting their full strength into it. This went on for a hour and y/n decided to let icky win cause it wouldn't stop unless they did that.

(Hope you like my yap session. Please if you like this and want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[qqueenofhades]

I'm planning on participating in the April 5 Hands Off protest at my state Capitol. I wasn't looking forward to standing out in the cold rain for 3 hours (if the local weather forecast is right), but if Cory Booker can stand and talk intelligently for 25 hours, all while not eating or using the bathroom, then I guess I can handle a little rain. What an inspiration!

Honestly, it was just what everyone needed, especially from the Senate Democrats and double especially after Schumer let us down so badly with the budget bill. I had it on in the background/mute for most of the afternoon at work to show support, but I turned it on with sound to watch the moment Booker broke the record and gave Strom Thurmond's dead racist ass one good kick down in hell. Suck on that, fucknuts. You got beat by a black man. Hahahahahahaaha.

Anyway, as I said in my tags on the last reblog, today felt almost... hopeful, which is weird but welcome. I didn't really expect to win the FL House seats, nice as it would have been, since it was such a massive lift in Trump +30 districts, but Team Blue overperformed across the board by 12-15 points (and something closer to 20 in FL-01, Gaetz's old district). The one I wanted and/or would have been worried if we didn't win was the Wisconsin SCOTUS seat, especially since Musk had been up there prancing his odious ass around and openly bribing voters (who, look shocked, all turned out to be Wisconsin Republican operatives). But we did get that one, by apparently a pretty wide margin in the purplest and most maddening of purple states, and I am pleased.

I'm not going to read a ton into three special elections in April, even if it's always better to see Democrats do well than otherwise, since they dominated in most elections between 2020-23 and then 2024 was uh, 2024. And as I keep saying, it's maddening when voters only remember that oh yeah, Republicans suck massive amounts of donkey dick only AFTER they have reliably yet again voted the fuckwaffles back into power. Still, having your margin of victory cut full in half in blood-red parts of FL, and a blowout loss in swingiest-of-swing-states WI, three months after the inauguration, is not exactly great for the Treason Caucus. Womp womp. Sad clown noises. Thoughts and prayers.

Now we need the Senate Dems to follow Booker's example, quit fucking voting for Republican bills (looking at you, Schumer, and somehow massive disappointment Fetterman), and generally gunk up the procedural works as much as they can, even if they're in the minority. Republicans will make Noises of Concern (especially Susan Collins), but when push comes to shove, they'll still fall in line behind Trump. Democrats have to be loud and united, display a consistent backbone, and raise the social and electoral cost of Republicans continuing to kiss the ass of Mad King Trump and Evil Vizier Elon, and today was a positive step in that direction, if they can keep it up. And if Booker wants to, y'know, think about running for president in 2028 or anything, I'm absolutely willing to support him in exploring that idea. He has earned that consideration at least.

As for the April 5th protests: I was planning to be downtown that day anyway, and I might have to head over too. I suggest everyone use Mobilize.us to find events planned for the National Day of Action:

Courage, etc.

[whitehairandtraumatized-bracket]

White Hair and Trauma Brawl Round 1; Poll 27

remember, voting is based on swag, trauma, and favoritism!!

trauma and propaganda under the cut!

Trauma! 

Killua:  “Horrifically abusive family and training to become an assassin, both emotional and physical- Though it’s a bit more complicated than that. Also constantly having loved ones in danger and near death, but I’ll avoid going into details for spoilers’ sake.”

“Killua was raised as a child assassin and tortured regularly by his family. He ran away from home to become a Hunter but his abusive older brother came after him and manipulated him into getting disqualified, saying Killua isn't qualified to have friends. Killua does eventually leave, makes friends etc. but he struggles to get past his family's teachings!!

Later, Killua also becomes part of an extermination team against extremely powerful enemies. I should note Killua is 12-14 at this point (depends on what version of the timeline you use lol). And Killua is TERRIFIED that his best friend Gon is going to die and/or doesn't actually want Killua around, and Killua is basically steeling himself to die with Gon and breaking down over his own uselessness. Which culminates in Killua witnessing what is more or less Gon's suicide attempt and having to be the one to save him.”

Mathis (Sr.): Is 23 years into the lifespan of 30 (at best) in a country that he hates. Has to do a job working for the government that he hates. Lives in a village that he hates. Has a wife who convinced him to have a kid he didn't really want and is now helping a rebellion against the government. Got jealous and snitched on his wife and immediately regretted it when the government killed her and burnt down the entire village and blinded his son. Tried doing a suicide run to rescue his kid and his wife's life work, somehow failed to die. Ran away to another country. Someone wrote an abridged play about this whole affair. He did not get paid for it but now everyone knows him as that Foreign Guy With The Blind Son. Joined a criminal gang for like 5 bucks. Criminal gang imploded. Joined a new group where out of 3 other adults, 2 are cops and the 3rd is a mildly fascist pro-government animated corpse from his home country. And the corpse is the only guy sympathetic to him. 

Propaganda!

Killua: "he’s also literally purple. coolest color. and he has skateboard"

“Its gotta be killua like c’mon. deuteragonist who’s whole character arc is about recognizing and healing from his trauma?”

Mathis (Sr.): He's literally the worst. Barely any redeeming qualities, has a very cute son he didn't really want and frankly he kinda treats him like ass even if he's the centre of his life. Had a very cool wife who he fumbled harder than anyone has ever fumbled before. Is generally a miserable and unpleasant person most of the time because his life is joever and he's got the insides of a 60 year old despite being 23 because he's gonna die at 30 at best. Vote for him because truly this is all he's got going for him and also he'll be dead soon. Please give him a win for once in his sad little life.

[yaoireview]

ivantill from alien stage please oh wise one

okay.. but only because you're a family friend. (spoilers for all of Alien Stage up to 7/9/25)

IVANTILL YAOI REVIEW

(please don't be upset alien stage heads if i misunderstand something.. i'm only 3 and I binged it all today and is just working off what I believe and what my friend explained to me)

...It's really up in the air truly.. hard to say...

...yeah SURE ivan seems.. maybe a LITTLE gay.. but except from that hes a straight, god lovin, freedom lovin, american.

Before I go more in-depth, I think I need to explain the relationships in Alien Stage that are relevant to this before anything else

got that? okay GOOD. Now I'm gonna explain why ivan is gay. I know, this is probably a shocker for you.. just.. try to take the news the best you could..

EVIDENCE 1: ROUND 3

For Ivan's song, I just gotta say theres a LOT of Till. You wanna know a character that frequently appeared in Till's song???? Mizi. Someone that he has a CRUSH on.

You think its a coincidence? I bet you're thinking, "That could mean anything, Ivan is just thinking about his best friend in his song. Thats all." Well, then you're wrong. Could you just... stop doubting me for ONE second...? God..

Well yeah, round 3. Ivan saves Till from the fucked up situation he was in, straitjacket and all.. thats not right.. guys i think the aliens might not be treating them correctly.

After he's able to get out of that HORRENDOUS situation, he realizes that.. "Wow.. I better go back and save my lesbian crush! I might still have a chance!" and he runs BACK INTO THE DEATH DUNGEON, the gears were NOT turning in this kid's head!

Ivan respected him for it though.. atleast I think he did.. he couldve been thinking a lot in this scene.. "You go win that lesbian's heart little buddy!", "He's so fucking stupid.", "If I laugh I go to hell.". It's hard to say, but I think it just made him more interested in him.

And also, the last part of the song has Ivan saying "You are always for me", which was probably him talking about Till. God the WHOLE song is probably about Till...

EVIDENCE 2: ROUND 6 AND OTHER MISC.

honestly, only straight things happen in this video/episode.

We see Till mourning (Or atleast is sad about) Mizi since from what he knows she's as good as dead, and after Till gets in a mess, Ivan needs to go and save him

He's GOTTA stop finding Till in these sort of situations..

We are also able to see more of their dynamic when they were younger, they really show us the extremes that their friendship reached

Theres also another clip where Ivan touches a cut that Till got on their face, and afterwards he licked the blood from it off his fingers.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

And then the straightest thing in this episode happened.

Randomly, Till just STOPPED singing.. the aliens are not gonna like this.. hes trying to make it so he LOSES.. Ivan sees this, so he does what any good friend would do, and started making out with him on stage, as a BRO thing of course..

He also started to pretend to strangle him in front of an audience of thousands to remind him about their favorite show The Simpsons

But it was ALL part of his plan, because this made it so people voted for Till to win because they felt bad that he was getting attacked in their eyes, and so Ivan was shot down and killed. You see this was brilliant from Ivan, because he had really bad stage fright and didn't wanna perform again, and I GUESS... he was able to save Till.

In a friend way.

Also in KARMA, Mizi and Sua pushes two pieces of a ruby heart together to represent their mutual love

Ivan must've thought it was pretty cool so he tried to try the newest trend with his pal Till but I don't think it worked too well

Seems like Ivan is REALLY caring this relationship.. wait.. is Till even doing ANYTHING..? man.. what a BUM.. Its like he doesn't even have romantic feelings for Ivan or something...

...wait a minute..

EVIDENCE 3: GUYS I THINK TILL DOESN'T LIKE IVAN BACK

Well doesn't like isn't probably the best words.. more like has no clue that Ivan even liked him romantically or didn't connect the dots until he was shot dead in front of millions.

He probably never really paid too much attention to him romantically, since he was too busy having a crush on Mizi

he CLEARLY doesn't have his priorities straight, he should drop the ZERO and get with the HERO

Get yourself a REAL man that'll put YOU at 100% INTIMACY like IVAN

Well anyways, Its clear that Till likes only has interests in Mizi, even though Ivan sacrificed himself for him... for shame.

Well GOOD thing Till got this far, I sure hope he doesn't disappoint us all and lose to Rubiks Cube Boy.

The entire finale Till looks like he's gonna pass out from heat exhaustion, probably from those stage lights. We were losing him.

Luka started to pull their classic magic trick of reminding his opponent of a dead friend/love interest, he was bringing out his A-GAME while Till was starting to see the pearly gates.

Then he finally saw Mizi in the audience which would've been a REAL nice reunion but he lost the song so.. thats how it goes sometimes.. I don't make the rules..

Atleast from this near death experience, he was able to see the person he loves the most one last time..

Ivan wouldn't have made that amateur mistake. That's all I'm saying. I'm sorry to say, but sure. Till is PROBABLY some sort of gay but he seems pretty straight to me. It feels like all the love in this dynamic is only coming from Ivan. (love from a really good friend of course)

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Communication is key, make sure to make your feelings for someone known before you go on stage in front of thousands in a deadly singing competition against them.

Yaoi-licious!

YAOI: 9.25/10

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART SIX

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Depression, swearing and mentions of self h*rm.

Notes: shit is about to go down.

PART ONE | PART FIVE | PART SEVEN | NAVIGATION

“I don't understand Michael sometimes, I guess it runs in the blood.” The angel of death muttered underneath his breath, Azrael sighs, running his hand through his dark black locks, feeling the soft strands of his hair in-between his fingers. He is annoyed, annoyed at how Michael didn't leave any room for [Y/n] to say no. Sure, Michael did make a bargain that if she wins rock-paper-scissors against him, he'll change his decision but [Y/n] sucks at rock-paper-scissors so she didn't have any chance of winning in the first place. Well, he guessed that this is Michael's way of winning against [Y/n] as the man is absolute shit when it comes to Monopoly.

Azrael is confused, why does Michael want [Y/n] to see her good for nothing husband? Azrael asked him about it and the man just told him to trust him, as it is what their dear creator has told him. He is confused why Michael is really pushing [Y/n] to see his twin brother. Azrael asked the man about it and he just looked away with a sad smile. Azrael knew how much it affected Michael that his twin brother was casted out of heaven. Despite him being one of the angels who voted for him to be casted out. Azrael knew how much of a tough decision Michael made. But still,

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

Azrael trusts God on his decision but he doesn't know if the outcome of this will be good, Azrael has been by [Y/n]'s side ever since Lucifer was being a neglectful asshole and he heard that the fallen angel got married again when in hell. How is he going to accept that his dear friend is going to get hurt again? Azrael knows how much pain Lucifer caused [y/n], how much pain it brought to Xavier. Goodness! He saw the poor boy trying to stab his own face with his own angelic weapon, thankfully he was there to stop him.

Azrael's shoulders slumped, already feeling more stressed than usual. He is worried, so worried about [Y/n]'s mental state as he knows how fragile it is. He knows how much shit she's going through, she's constantly trying to help cleanse earth from the constantly growing evil while maintaining to be kind and to add more to her plate, she has a son to take care of and now... She's about to take care of whatever the fuck is happening on hell?

His feet quickened its pace, speed walking the long hallways of the Seven Heavenly Virtues building, trying to reach [Y/n]'s floor and office, he would've immediately checked up on her after the meeting but he had some important matters to deal with and he prays that the poor girl didn't have a mental breakdown again. Which somehow, he feels like she already did. He hopes that he's wrong though.

His heels clicked against the gold marbled white tiles, rays of sunlight passing through the curtains giving the hallway an orange glow from the setting sun.

He finally reached her office, knocking against the wooden door. No answer. He sighs rather loudly. He knocks again. No answer.

“[Y/n]? It's me, Azrael. Are you alright?” He asked softly, pressing his ear against the door to listen if she answered him. None. He became worried.

Grabbing the spare key that he has—he has a key to everyone's room and office, don't ask how and why he has them. Anyways, inserting the key to the lock, twisting it and he finally heard the satisfying click.

He quickly pushed open the door, his worried and tensed shoulders relaxing once he finally saw her, asleep on her desk. Her head on the table, her body slouched uncomfortably.

He could see the tear stains on her cheeks, golden blood from her fingers. A rather bad habit of hers, she tends to pick the skin off the side of her nails when she's stressed and sometimes causes it to bleed.

Azrael smiled softly, allowing himself inside her office. He closed and locked the door behind him before he tiptoed across the room and finally beside her.

He kneeled down beside her so he's now face-to-face to her. Azrael admired her sleeping face, he loves it when she's at peace like this. He wants her to be happy. His eyes saddened, oh how he wished to give her the happiness she deserves. But it's truly unfortunate that she doesn't love him the same way he loves her.

Always the side character, never the romantic interest.

With a sigh, he gently lifted her up from her seat. Carrying her in his arms like a bride that he'll never have the chance to call as his.

[Y/n] groans when she felt that she was lifted off from her chair, she opened one to look at the person who woke her up. She saw Azrael looking down on her with an amused smirk.

“Come on, let's get you back to your room. You need some rest.” he says softly to her and she just groaned and he chuckled. A black and gold portal opened behind them and Azrael stepped inside with [Y/n] in his arms. The portal closed after they went in.

Azrael opened the portal back to her house and back to her room, he gently laid her on the bed. Making sure she didn't lie on her hair. Tucking her in comfortably.

“I don't know what I'll do without you, Azi... I wished that I could've loved you instead. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.” she whispered, her voice breaking. She really wished that she fell in love with Azrael, he treated her and Xavier far better than Lucifer does but her heart remained still with Lucifer. [Y/n] I'm right here in front of you, always loving you but why do you continue to love a man that is far away from you and probably doesn't give two shits about you and your son? Please give me a chance and I'll worship you to the point it'll put my faith in God to shame.

Azrael's eyes softened, a forced smile on his face. He tucks away a strand of her hair that is falling in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear. I really wished that too, I can treat you far better than him, is what he thought but decided not to say, “Don't apologize sweetheart, you really can't force a heart to reciprocate someone's feelings, no? And I can understand that. How about you take some rest and clear your mind hmm?” he suggested softly with a small smile, wiping away the tear that runs down her cheek. [Y/n] nodded, hiccuping slightly before eventually closing her eyes.

She was fast asleep the moment she did.

Azrael smiled and sighed, turning around on his heel as he walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. Walking away from someone he's not meant to be with. He just hoped that whatever God is doing is right.

Time flew by so quickly that [Y/n] didn't even notice, she was far too busy dealing with both Heavenly and Mortal realm matters. The root of evil is constantly growing and getting even more powerful on earth and the Seven Heavenly Virtues are trying to contain it. All seven of them were exposed to such horrors and so much evil while on earth, slowly threatening to consume them or even corrupt them.

[Y/n] limped back to her office in heaven, golden blood flowing off her side. She just finished her work on earth, she was trying to cleanse a root of evil when it suddenly changed direction and changed its direction towards her in immense speed and causing it to pierce her side. She managed to cut it down but the negativity from the root seeped into her wound, causing her healing powers to slow down.

She winced as she finally slumped down into her seat, hovering her hand over her wound, a golden glow radiating from her palm. The wound slowly closed, but not fully but enough that she can bandage it up. But the healing took too much of her energy and she felt she was about to pass out.

She opened one of the drawers of her desk, pulling out a medical kit and began treating her wounds. She winced as she tried to clean it. After so much struggle, she finally cleaned her wound.

[Y/n] leaned against her chair, almost passing out when her eyes landed on to the calendar that is in her office. Her eyes widened, “Today is the extermination day?!” she shrieked and quickly stood up from her seat, she hissed as pain quickly shot from her waist all throughout her body. She gripped into the table, her nails scratching the wood.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck... I forgot about that.” she muttered, trying to stabilize herself, “I hope I can stop Adam and the exorcists..” she muttered, pain still evident in her voice. Running her hands through her hair. Gripping into her locks in frustration.

Ah crap, I hope I don't pass out. She thought as she weakly opens a portal to hell. Composing herself before finally stepping inside the portal.

The first thing she noticed is Adam spewing out shit from his mouth, the hotel she heard about now destroyed, exorcists killing sinners. Anger fills her veins, her six wings puffing behind her and along with multiple eyes opened on her wings. She's beyond pissed, the audacity these angels have to perform an act without notice from the higher ups. Without thinking she summoned her second angelic weapon, a bow and arrow. Aiming it just beside Adam—a warning shot. Successfully catching his and the other's attention.

“Adam, respectfully please shut your mouth!” She ordered, her voice booming, glaring down on the people on the ground, specifically at the first man. She's far too angry to keep her attention on the back of her husband or ex-husband. There's a limit to how much an angel of kindness and healing can take, and unfortunately for Adam, this is Angel Raphael's breaking point.

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” She sneered, her hand clenching tightly on to her bow, her fingers itching to fire another arrow and just finish the man.

“No... You don't get to end this.” Adam growled in pain, weakly standing up from the rubble of where he crashed, “I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man!” he yelled, turning to look at Lucifer in anger, “And you're just some fucking clown or something!” Adam growled and Lucifer just stared at the man with a deadpan expression, not really paying attention.

“I started everything on earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” Adam exclaimed. They just stared at the man who's clearly pissed at the fact he lost.

Suddenly, an arrow shot just beside Adam, barely missing the first man. The golden arrow embedded on to the ground. Silence, as people were filled with awestruck. Adam was filled with fear.

“Adam, respectfully please shut your mouth!” A female voice boomed, her powerful and authoritative voice echoing in to the air. Goosebumps danced across Lucifer's skin, he knows that voice. The very voice that he didn't hear for so many years, the voice that kept haunting him. The haunting and guilt worsened after Charlie told him he had a son in heaven.

They turned around and looked up at the sky to see a very furious seraphim glaring down on them—specifically on the first man, Adam.

Lucifer's eyes were glued on her, she's so close yet so far away.

He admired her angelic form, he can practically feel her authority and power from where he stood. Despite all of this, despite how absolutely terrifying she looked. Her beauty never really scared him. She looked as beautiful as the day he lost her when he fucked up.

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” [Y/n] added, her eyes glaring down on Adam, her power and strength can be felt through the air and they can tell that she is absolutely furious.

“Oh shit.” Adam muttered underneath his breath. His boss' boss is here.

END NOTES: SURPRISE UPDATE 🤯🤯 ANYWAYS, AZRAEL STANS HOW ARE WE FEELING TONIGHT?

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[onionbug-critical]

This, here is why people don't understand why it's important to vote. I have to admit, I didn't vote because I didn't have a car or a means to go to the voting area. I also have forgotten I was old enough to vote. Even if I did vote, I already knew my vote wouldn't matter.

This type of aggression (when you could guarantee this woman is supporting the same political beliefs she's against, hint hint Amazon hint hint.) and lives the luxury she claims is "capitalism" yet you do see where I am coming from?

She makes it a point to say "Hey my Dad's a Immigrant!" to try and win an arguement, the thing is Viv, he's a LEGAL here, he's not at risk of being deported afaik (Yes I am aware he is still at risk, but there's been lots of misinformation and doomposting to an unhealthy extent, and I am not gonna believe shit in this country, because just like the commentor I am someone who literally panics about this. Regardless of your political stance, don't believe shit you are being fed until it's proven. Panicking is completely reasonable but I prefer to not believe anything until it happens, and considering people might get the wrong idea, no I am not republican, I am someone whose not gonna live much longer on this earth thus not wanting to deal with this.) . Yet you're out here flaunting it like it's your business to?

You have doxxed your friends and family on YOUR PUBLIC platform. Meaning it's public and it's not even private so you can't say you were doxxed doxxing would be saying where you are, and what your IP is.

This woman was really rude for no reason for a obviously reasonable response. Anyone whose mad at the 2024 Elections, do NOT harass others who were unfortunate to not be able to vote. Some of us don't have the ability to vote at all. And some of us just want to live without worry.

(inb4 people saying I am being a bigot supporter, Viv is merely doing this to seem like she cares, in all honesty she gets paid by the hour from the same people who support these beliefs. She does not care. She just wants to overcompensate. In the comments I explain in depth, my post is not meant to "educate" on the Deportations or Happenings, it's to point out how utterly disrespectful some people are when they are told they didn't vote, believe it or not, even if you don't care. Non-Voters have been harassed too due to circumstances that prevent them from voting. I do not care for politics, but if you're gonna claim all people who dont vote are bad, then you can kindly go fuck off. i am not a political person, hence the reason why I dont care anymore, I find giving a fuck about these things exhausting, and I just want to live my life without overreacting over shit. You can feel some sort of way about it, but arguing about how this is justified is really fucking sad.)

[italian-lit-tournament]

Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

Propaganda for Francesco Petrarca by @alieneye

Petrarca for the win: Dante can take his Inferno and chill.

Let’s get real. Dante wrote fanfiction about himself meeting Virgil and hanging out with dead celebs. Cool story, bro. But Petrarca? He INVENTED simping. The Canzoniere is basically the OG sad boy playlist, and we've all been there - pining for someone who doesn’t even know we exist. Petrarca made it ART.

Dante's like, "Oh, I walked through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven." Okay, but did you walk through the depths of your own emotions while composing fire sonnets about your crush who died 20 years ago? No. Petrarca did that.

Also, without Petrarca, the Renaissance wouldn't have happened (I won't accept any contradiction). That’s right - your fave painters, writers, and thinkers were all Petrarca stans. Dante didn't spark the Renaissance; he just brooded in his afterlife epic while Petrarca was out here rediscovering ancient texts and flexing his Latin. You're welcome, humanity.

And can we talk about relatability? Dante wrote in terza rima, which no one uses anymore because it's like trying to write a poem while solving a Rubik's cube. Petrarca gave us the Petrarchan sonnet: simple, elegant, iconic.

Vote Petrarca: Because sad poetry about unattainable love > Dante’s mid-life crisis tour.

[redpill-tfs]

Two Wishes

Aaron wasn't surprised when his grandfather left him out of his will.

The two had constantly clashed while he was alive. The retired Republican senator had never approved of his only grandson being gay. Nor did he appreciate his liberal activism. In Grandpa Scott's world, it was his way or the wrong way.

Aaron was fine following his own path in life. But when Grandpa Scott died, he felt a little sad the two hadn't been closer. Searching through the old attic's junk for something to remember him by, he stumbled across an old golden lamp. It looked just like the ones in old movies, covered in dust just begging to be rubbed off.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by trying it," he thought as he picked it up. Sure enough, as soon as he began to rub the lamp, red smoke started to emerge before a hulking figure with a ghostly tail appeared before his eyes.

"Greetings, mortal. I am here to grant your two biggest wishes," the figure said, its arms out wides in a grand show of authority and charisma.

"Isn't it three wishes?"

"Not anymore. That's mainly used in movies to show a lesson being learned. Now we just give two wishes, so choose carefully. The only rules are no asking for more wishes and no bringing people back from the dead."

Aaron thought about it for a moment. He did have one wish right now. Though he'd never really wanted it before, his grandpa's love and approval of him would mean everything to him now. He wanted his grandpa to pat him on the back and tell him how proud he was of him. If that wasn't an option, he might as well ask for the next best thing as his first wish.

"I wish Grandpa Scott was proud of me."

"Granted." The genie snapped its fingers, and Aaron could feel himself start to change.

He looked down at his hands, noticing wrinkles appearing where they weren't before. His back started to ache a little bit, and his hair turned short and grey with age.

"What's happening to me!?" Aaron yelled out. "I didn't want this!"

"You wanted your grandfather to be proud of you. He'd never be proud of the old you and you know that. I'm turning you into someone he'd actually be proud of."

The changes continued as they spoke. His old t-shirt morphed into a crisp white dress shirt, buttoned all the way up. A bright red tie tied itself around his neck and a blue suit jacket draped itself over his shoulders. An American flag pinned itself to his lapel.

The mental changes started next. Memories of coming out of the closet completely vanished from his mind, as his rear entrance closed and tightened, never to be entered again. He'd never do anything sinful like that! He cared too much about his faith to go against God's teachings.

And God had taught him at a young age that Right is right. He immediately registered as a Republican at the age of 18 and had voted red ever since. He ran for office as soon as he was old enough and now the 68 year old has been a senator for the past 30 years, proudly representing his state and traditional values. He considered it his duty to fight the good fight against the godless liberals and their socialist ideals. They may win some battles but never the war. And with the recent reelection of Donald Trump, the tides were shifting once again in their favor.

"How do you feel, Aaron? Remember you still have one wish left."

Oh, right. Aaron had wished for something. He couldn't remember what, though. He had everything he'd ever wanted. A fulfilling career, a loving wife, and proud conservative kids and grandkids who knew God was in control. What else could he want? Standing in front of his workplace, the American flag waving proudly in the background, Aaron got an idea.

Maybe...

"I wish the American people would all believe the values I preach!"

[bucketofbugz]

I WAS SLEEPING WHEN THE EPISODE CAME OUT my bad chat

as always, live Bugz reaction to bfdia 20!!!! spoilers, duh

(episode watched and reaction written at 4:00 in the morning, posted many hours later)

Leafy is so desperate for friends. I'm sad now.

ough

yeah I figured it was something like this.

I KNEW THE SECOND PART OF THE CHALLENGE WOULD BE THE DISTRIBUTION also I guess the next host will be occurring in the NEXT episode which does make sense since it would be weird to swap the host mid-challenge

they didn't even just run away, they literally DISAPPEARED

also I gotta say I am LOVING how expressive they're making Pin get with her wheels.

GIGGLING

OH HECK YEAH WORKING TOGETHER

samesies Needle

I'm gonna refrain from all the bookpin rambling I could be doing

BUT LOOK AT THEM

I'm not even gonna screenshot what I'm about to talk about but oh my god can Golf Ball catch a BREAK. LEAVE HER ALONE. STOP THIS. also that's disgusting there was no need for that.

HIIIII LEAFYYYYYY!!!!!!!

also LEAFY MENTIONING PIN we win

also also thank you Leafy for calling him out on that

do you think they'd be able to do that with the actual dream island. or no.

also FINALLY mentioning the ugly dream island farm

Leafy you can't just suggest ANOTHER guy kill his girlfriend and people he vaguely puts up with

I forgot that Pin like. REALLY likes the stupid farm dream island. no wonder she's the one that's most aggressive about winning she actually wants that thing.

I don't know what it is but this exchange. I really like this exchange. giggling.

stop this episode is filling me with too much joy and whimsy they need to stop interacting

RUBY????

WDYM THERE WAS A TORNADO????????

we love Leafy encouraging violence and people actually listening

also yeah he's. he's still mad

and this is why I love needle

Coiny you weird funky little creature.

STOP DESTROYING PLANETS

Book she shredded you last challenge, what made you think her first plan WOULDN'T be killing TB and Coiny

why did I NOT expect them to bring up the map for some reason. Also Pin immediately recognizing it. my leafpin heart

PIN BREAKING UP THE ALLIANCE WHEN BOOK MENTIONS LEAFY??????? I know it's probably just because Book has a different plan for the challenge but,,,,,, c'mon,,,

AND DESTROYING THE MAP AGAIN????? chat.

Tennis Ball your plan is so stupid. you know what you COULD do? wait for Coiny to come back and cash in his immunity ticket (and hope he doesn't notice you're not immune yet), THEN recover Needle and have her make Coiny immune, THEN tell her you're also immune.

PIN??

yeah okay just tell him straight up that's fine

NOT AGAIN. PIN.

she didn't even do it intentionally this time.

yippee!!

love that this is a universe where assuming someone died is just an unfortunate inconvenience and not a tragedy. nobody cares

YAYYYYY BOOK

Tennis Ball. Tennis Ball NO. DO NOT. TENNIS BALL STOP THIS RIGHT THIS INSTANT. ACCEPT YOUR DOOM. TENNIS BALL ISTG

(I had screenshots for all of those little bits but I deleted them to make room for the END OF THE EPSIODE BECUASE HOLY?????? WHAT)

FINALLY okay as much as I want Pin to win, story-wise her and Coiny losing here is gonna be better.

I'm gonna make a whole post about the betrayal situation and both of their views on it gimme a minute when it's not 4:30 in the morning

OH MY GOD?????????

Oh he's. oh this is great. THIS IS GREAT CHAT THIS IS ACTUALLY. THIS IS WAHT I WANTED. I'M BEING SO FR RIGHT NOW.

"I didn't think you were THAT petty, Coiny" says YOU???

OHHOHOHOHOH DO I HAVE SOME THINGS TO DAY ABOUT THIS ARGUMENT. this literally is backing up everything I've been thinking about the last two episodes this is great and wonderful

MY. MY SILLIES> MUYE SILFE >FHEY MY SIL screaming crying writhing on the floor I have been waiting for this for YEARS

anyway. episode over. I am so tired. gonna post this later when it's not so early

I'm voting for Coiny to leave btw. not because he lost the challenge for them, but for the same reason I'm making a whole post about their situation

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.