| Howdy, welcome to my mess of a blog. I write, post art and reblog stuff. Please read pinned post before interacting or following | Multi-fandom | SFW |
What I’ll write; fluff, angst, romantic/platonic/familial relationships, suggestive themes, violence/gore/death of a character/reader.
What I won’t write; full on smut(it makes me uncomfortable), oc x reader, character x character, cheating.
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Rules for requesting/overall interaction.
Be kind, not only to me but the other people who interact with my blog.
Be patient if you’ve requested something, I, like everyone else, have a life outside of this app. So if you keep bugging me, I’ll likely delete the request.
Remember I can say no to any request(s) I might find too much or simply don’t feel comfortable writing.
Please don’t send an entire 6 page long paragraph. A few sentences should be enough.
That’s all I can really think of right now, might add more soon.
Lastly, have fun. :)
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Fandoms + who I write for.
DC
Scarecrow, Killer Croc, Harley Quinn and Mr. Freeze.
i can't even come up with an adequate enough comparison to describe the second-hand embarrassment i'm feeling at this moment, all that's coming to mind is that time i threw up in the school hallway in 5th grade and that was still easier to cope with than this
Hi! I loved your last angst story, so I wanted to request a Smallville Clark Kent x Wife!Reader story.
In the story, Clark and the reader are married and have a young daughter. Lately, because of his Superman duties, he’s been coming home late. His wife understands why, but she’s still hurt and frustrated. The final straw is when he misses their daughter’s kindergarten performance, which leads to an argument when he gets home.
Clark has been under a lot of stress and is completely exhausted, so he ends up snapping back during the fight. I’d love for the story to have plenty of emotional angst but also a happy ending.
Clark Kent - smallville
note: my angst writing is still something im working on, hence why this took a while to get out.
Plot: wife!reader, superman!clark
Note: a couple uses of y/n
The first time Clark missed dinner, you told yourself it was okay, The second time, you reheated his plate, By the fifth time, you stopped making one. You understood, You had always understood.
Being married to Clark Kent meant understanding that sometimes he had to leave in the middle of a conversation, that sometimes he came home with a split lip and a torn shirt. That sometimes his eyes were exhausted, even though he insisted he was fine.
You knew who he was. You loved who he was. But lately, it felt like Clark had forgotten who you were. And worse—He was forgetting who his daughter was.
Daddy’s coming tonight, right?” You paused in the doorway of your daughter’s bedroom. She was sitting on the floor in her little pink dress, carefully fixing the bow in her hair.
“Of course he is, sweetheart.”
She looked up at you. “Promise?”
Your heart ached. You smiled anyway. “I promise.”
You had called Clark three times. no answer. You texted him “she keeps asking when you're coming home.” and still nothing. You tried not to worry, tried not to think about it, tried not to feel disappointed before he had even failed to show up. But when the auditorium filled with people, there was still an empty seat next to you.
Your daughter was seated on the stage, she kept looking back at you, waiting. The lights dimmed and the music started, she kept looking back at that empty chair. She smiled at you, but to wasn't the same smile she and when Clark was around, it was more sadder and dimmed.
————
“Was daddy busy?” she asked in the car ride home,
“Yeah, baby.” you said, gripping the steering wheel harder.
“Saving people again?”
“Probably.”you swallowed.
She was quiet for a moment then she looked out the window. “Did he forget?”
You couldn't answer because you the truth was that you didn't know anymore.
“He wouldn’t forget about you, baby, not ever.” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
————
Clark came home at 1:17 in the morning, You were sitting in the dark living room, waiting. He stopped the moment he saw you.
“Hey.”
You stared at him. “Hey?”
He looked exhausted, His shirt was torn at the collar, There was dirt across his face. Normally, you would’ve rushed to him, but Tonight, you didn’t move.
Clark slowly closed the door. “She’s asleep?”
“Yes.”
“How was the performance?”
You laughed and It wasn’t a happy laugh “You’re asking me that now?”
His expression changed. “Y/n—”
“She waited for you.”
He looked away. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.” you snapped at him.
“I said I know.”
“You weren’t there, Clark.”
“I was trying to get there.”
“But you didn’t.”
His jaw tightened. “I couldn’t exactly stop in the middle of—”
“Of what?”
He stopped.
You stood up. “Of saving someone? Of course. I know, Clark. I know.” His face fell. “I know what you do.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
Your eyes burned. “Because you’re missing everything else.” He stared at you. “You’re missing dinner. You’re missing bedtime. You’re missing mornings.”
“Y/n—”
“She asked me if you forgot.” That stopped him, Completely. “She asked me if you forgot about her.”
Clark’s face crumpled slightly. “I didn’t.”
“But that’s what she thinks.”
“I would never—”
“Then stop giving her reasons to think it!” Your voice cracked on the last words.
The room went silent. Clark looked at you like you’d slapped him. You wiped at your eyes angrily.
“She kept looking at the door tonight.” He said nothing. “She kept looking for you.”
“I know.”
“No you don’t.”
“I said I know!” His voice suddenly exploded through the room. You froze. Clark froze too. He had never shouted at you like that. Not once.
“I am trying!” he said, breathing heavily. “Do you think I want to miss her performance? Do you think I want to come home every night and find out what I missed?”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
“Because people are dying!” The words echoed between you, Clark’s chest rose and fell, You stared at him. He immediately regretted it, But you were already crying.
“I know.” Your voice was quiet now. “I know people need you.”
“Y/n—”
“I know you have to save them.”
“Please—”
“But I’m your wife.” He went completely still. “And she’s your daughter.”
His eyes started to fill with tears too. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“Then act like it!”
You covered your mouth, trying to hold yourself together. “I am so tired, Clark.” His expression broke. “I am so tired of telling her you’ll be home when I don’t know if you will be.”
“I know, i’m sorry.”
“I am tired of sitting beside an empty chair, I am tired of being understanding.”
Clark looked at you. And for the first time, he realised how much you had been carrying. Not because you expected him to stop being Superman. But because you had been quietly trying to be strong enough for both of you. “You think I don’t want to be there?” he asked quietly.
“I think you want to be everywhere.”
He looked away. “That’s not possible.”
“No.” You shook your head. “It isn’t.”
The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.
Finally, Clark whispered, “I thought if I could save enough people, then maybe I could keep you both safe.”
Your heart broke. “Clark…”
“I keep thinking that if I miss one emergency, something happens. And then I come home and I’ve missed another thing here.” He laughed bitterly. “I don’t know how to be both.”
You softened. “Neither do I.” He looked at you. “I don’t know how to be the wife of Superman.”
You both stood there, exhausted and heartbroken.
Then Clark stepped closer. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“No, You shouldn’t have.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I am terrified that one day I’ll choose wrong.”
You looked at him. “Then stop trying to choose between us and the world.” He frowned. “You can’t save everyone.”
“I have to try.”
“I know.” You took a shaky breath. “But you have to let us be part of your life too.”
His eyes filled with unshed tears. “I don’t know how.”
“Then learn. Not for the world, but for me and you daughter.” The words were gentle, But firm.“You don’t have to stop being Superman.” Clark nodded slowly. “But you do have to stop acting like being Clark Kent is something you can do whenever you have time.”
that broke him, He looked down Because you were right. You had never asked him to stop saving people, You had only asked him to come home.
————
The next morning, your daughter woke up before sunrise. She padded into the living room in her pyjamas. “Daddy?”
Clark was sitting on the couch, He hadn’t slept, He turned around immediately. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She ran into his arms and He caught her tightly.“Did you miss my performance?”
Clark closed his eyes. “Yeah.”
She pulled back. “Why?”
He swallowed. “Because I was helping someone.”
She thought about this. “Did you save them?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Good.” Then she frowned. “But you still missed me.”
Clark’s face crumpled. “Yeah.”
She climbed into his lap. “Next time, can you try harder?”
A broken laugh escaped him. “I can do that.”
“Promise?”
He kissed her forehead, “pinky promise.”
⸻
Things didn’t change overnight.
Clark still had emergencies, He still had to leave sometimes, But now, he communicated.
He called when he could, He stopped making promises he couldn’t keep, He began protecting time for his family with the same determination he used to protect the city.
And three months later, he sat in the front row of your daughter’s next kindergarten performance.
She spotted him immediately and Her entire face lit up. “Daddy!”
The teacher tried to quiet her while Clark laughed softly, You reached for his hand and He squeezed it back.
When the music started, your daughter stood on stage, searching the audience.
And this time she didn’t have to search for him Because he was right there. Present.
Afterward, she ran into his arms. “Did you see me?”
Clark held her tightly. “I saw everything.”
You watched them, smiling through tears.
Clark looked over at you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
she's a peaceful vegetarian farmer. she's a traumatised veteran soldier. she's so gentle and emotionally intelligent. she publicly rebelled against her government twice. she loves her people. she knocked Erend flat on his ass for insulting them. as her society collapsed around her, she stayed strong and sang to her dying land-god through her fear. she stabbed an immortal invulnerable zenith in cold blood to avenge her boyfriend. she learned the truth behind her people's religion (eldritch horror imo) and immediately adapted, even helping kill one of her mutilated land-gods. she has the most soothing voice. she recoded her land-gods and saved her people from starvation. she's pregnant. when Aloy came back from cauldron gemini the first thing Zo did was give her a hug. all her dialogue at the base is so thoughtful, her takes on the Old World, what the Zeniths did and more.
Being on Kotallo’s left side meant it was easier for her to take care of aspects that his left arm would’ve usually done for him. This time, it meant passing bowls of food to the next person and scooping the contents onto his plate while he held the bowl. She hadn’t explicitly told everyone that she was pre-world, but then again, the last thing she wanted was to have to explain cytogenesis to people that fought with bows and arrows. She still entertained them with stories of war from her time, under the guise of an old-world historian. It wasn’t until she was cutting a piece of meat from a bone for Kotallo that she heard the snickering around them.
In listening to one of Hekarro’s stories, she continually dropped her gaze to the bottom right, watching as Kotallo struggled to cut a chunk of meat off the boar bone he had on his plate. After a few moments, he let out a quiet grunt and set the knife down; she reached over then and put two fingers on the bone and with the other hand, cut the chunk of meat off. While she was at it, she continued cutting the meat off until the bone was free, and she set her knife down, smiling at him.
“Thank you,” he murmured with a soft smile of his own, but it quickly fell when snickering echoed from the other side of the room and she looked over, seeing a few Tenakth nodding in their direction and laughing.
Anger welled up inside her and she couldn’t help but see the shame rise on Kotallo’s face; it was all it took to light an already shortened fuse—she wasn’t dumb, she saw how Kotallo’s fellow soldiers treated him. She cleared her throat, speaking out calmly, “Please forgive me for my interruption, Chief Hekarro, but it seems we have a more important story going on.” Everyone fell silent and she glared the warriors down. “What seems to be so funny in the Chief’s story that you are laughing so much?”
The soldiers looked away.
“No, please,” she encouraged. “It’s obviously much more important than his.”
The others seemed to be ashamed of the weight of their people’s gaze, but one in particular scoffed. “None of us need a babysitter to feed us.”
She blinked, looking at Kotallo. “I’m not feeding him. Last I checked, he was perfectly capable of bringing food to his mouth.”
“And cutting his food up for him like he’s a child?” he shot back. “A useless warrior in more ways than one.”
Kotallo looked at the floor and muttered, “Leave it, it’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she retorted and rose from her seat. “I’ve held my tongue long enough here.” Pointing at the warrior, she condemned, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Turning to the others, she added, “In fact, all should be ashamed of how you treat this man.”
“The Ten would’ve—”
“The Ten would’ve considered Kotallo an honorable warrior and held in high regard!” she pulled her armor off until she was in her underclothes, her usually hidden cybernetic arms and legs exposed. “I lost my limbs in battle and yet I was never treated so despicably by my fellow soldiers-in-arms. No one shunned me because I lost my arms and legs. I was lifted up with honor, with dignity, with brotherhood.”
They watched her limbs in shock as she walked towards the group.
“And when my limbs were built and re-attached, I went back into battle, leading my team once more. And they trusted me beyond a shadow of a doubt. You say the Ten wouldn’t care about a wounded warrior?” she glowered at them. “I am the Ten. I fought against the machines before the world went to hell. And we didn’t fucking treat our disabled men and women like dirt. We didn’t fucking think of them like broken weapons with no use. We treated them with respect. With dignity. They were heroes to us.”
She pointed at herself. “I have honor. I am still everything I was before I was maimed. And if you look at your fellow brother and sisters who are maimed like you do Kotallo? You don’t deserve to call yourself a descendant of the Ten. You’re a fucking poor excuse, and my people, my Ten, would be disappointed in your actions and treatment.”
Looking at the Tenakth around, she lifted her head and spoke with fervor. “You hold strength as the highest regard in your society, but you people don’t even know what that entails.” She gazed upon them with anger. “You are called to uplift your fellow man—maimed or not. You are called to support them in times of pain and turmoil. You do not turn your back on them and look upon them with shame.”
She glanced at Kotallo, a warmth in her eyes. “He is more worthy of being called a Ten than any man or woman here.”
Kotallo gaped at her, mouth slack, eyes wide, and silence filled the room as she pulled her clothes back on and sat down with him, pushing at his place. “Eat. Or it’ll get cold.”
Slowly, he closed his mouth and nodded, looking at his plate, and when she lifted her head and caught Hekarro’s eyes, a pride shown in them as he continued on with his story.
Hot Take: The Iliad isn't hard to adapt. Writers nowdays are just too chicken shit to let their protagonist be pieces of shit (Every Achean king is a piece of shit in their own ways).
If you try to adapt the Iliad for a good VS evil story, you will obviously fail, dah. The Iliad is not about good VS evil. Is about the horrors of war.
Embo basically went “alright. I got you guys your mandalorian. you’re probably gonna try take his helmet off to shame him and he’ll want to take out anyone who sees his face… so I’m taking my lunch break now. BRB”
Happy disability pride month! This month, please remember to be kind to yourself. Whatever effort you're able to put out day to day is enough, and you don't owe anyone more than what you're able to give. I hope you have a nice, restful July, and I'll see you in August!
