#this man's voice does things to me I can't

[haveihitanerve]

well now i just have to write this

1-

Bruce Wayne was fucking with him. It was a sentence Alex never thought he'd say, but well, shit got weird in Gotham.

"Bruce Wayne is seriously fucking with us."

His co-worker Terry half sang in response, both crouched by the water station, eyeing said billionaire from behind their little cups. The cups were, of course, actually amazing and nothing like those shitty made of paper and falls apart after a while cups, and were still, of course, reusable and recyclable because, come on, its Bruce Wayne.

"Can't hate him for shit."

Alex muttered, taking a sip. Terry hummed his agreement.

"Do you think he actively does it?" His friend asked.

Alex watched the man for a while longer, cataloging the maniacal gleam in his eyes as he gesticulated overly, chatting with Angelina, who looked about ready to shoot herself in the face.

"One hundred percent." Alex confirmed.

Terry sighed. They knew it, both of them, everyone knew it. They had seen Bruce Wayne in action. Had seen him interact with people, had seen him be charming and sweet and polite, had seen him grow serious and thoughtful and offer concise advice and constructive criticism. But for whatever reason- he refused to be like that with them.

Alex didn't know what it was about the upper workers, but for some reason the billionaire refused to drop the Brucie persona, no matter what. They had tried everything. Bribes, pleas, threats, everything. He wouldn't drop it.

"Helllllllloooo gentlemen."

Twittered a voice above them. Terry muttered a curse under his breath and quickly shot to his feet, mumbling something about paperwork, before quickly making an exit.

"Traitor." Alex grumbled, straightening to offer a very pained and sarcastic smile to his boss.

"Hello Brucie."

Bruce Wayne beamed at him, leaning against the cooler and flexing his hips just so, so that his ass was perfectly on display, hair mused, eyelashes batting. Alex ground his teeth. The CEO's smile grew.

"Something wrong?"

Alex had to give him credit, he did nothing half assed. His lips pulled forward and puckered, his brows furrowed, even his goddamn eyes turned sympathetic and concerned. But, of course, there was still that twinkle that revealed he knew just exactly he was doing.

"Not a thing." Alex bit out. Bruce smiled, a real smile, this time, and clapped Alex on the shoulder.

"Good. Do tell me if you need a raise- oh and tell your friend he owes you some lunch for bailing on you."

Bruce fucking Wayne winked at him, and headed back down the stairs, shaking his hips, and whistling. The door closed behind him just before about twelve good water cups smashed against it.

Bruce is hated by all upper level Wayne Enterprises execs because of two reasons: 1) he refuses to dial down Brucie most of the time and they can’t stand it 2) he will clear an entire boardroom of very important people if his kid walks in with a problem. no argument, no moving to another room, just a soft, jarringly serious everyone out, please while Dick is standing in the doorway, chest heaving, trying to pretend he isn’t freaking out about something.

[silcoitus]

Could you write a (young)Silco/Disabled Reader, who for the most part is able to walk just fine with the help of a brace but on bad days they’ll bring out the cane and on really bad days a wheelchair but is still insistent on trying to do things no matter how much they shouldn’t?

I tried to be as sensitive as I could towards reader's disability. I hope it comes across sincere and that I haven't committed any faux pas. If I have, please let me know in the comments and I will happily revise. Like young Silco in this fic, I will quickly apologize and learn if given the opportunity.

A Voice Like Yours

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: gn!reader x silco; disabled reader; Silco; Felicia; Connol; Vander; Benzo; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort;

Word count: 3.5k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

You would've liked to get to the market sooner, but getting out of bed was particularly hard today. Typically, you're able to handle just fine with only your brace. And when that doesn't work, your cane will usually suffice. But with rough sleep last night and a flare-up this morning, you opt for using your chair today to get to the market. Just until you can get your bearings again.

With your later arrival, you're unable to beat the morning rush, sandwiched between what seems like every citizen of the Undercity. Most give you a wide berth, but others shove past you unceremoniously. You're used to it by now, but your fatigue plasters a permanent scowl on your face as you try to find your usual vendors.

As you make your way through your shopping list, the bag sitting on your lap getting slightly heavier with each new stall you visit, you feel a bit better. (You used to keep your bag slung over the back of your chair, but stopped when some asshole stole it.)

You're on the last item on your list when you get settled in front of one wooden stall and make small talk with the shopkeep. He greets you by name and grabs your usual order, setting it down on the counter before turning his back to fix something. You try to reach for your purchase, but it's just a touch too far. You're about to move your chair closer when a stranger waltzes up and plucks the bag off the counter.

“Hey! That's mine!” you protest, rolling closer to him.

“I know,” he replies, handing it to you. “I was just getting it for you.”

You snatch it and shove it into your canvas bag, still frowning at the tall, slender man with long raven hair. 

“I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own.” You grab your wheels and in one fluid, practiced motion, reposition your chair away from him. You start to leave, but pause, looking over your shoulder. “I don't need your help.”

Out of your periphery, you see him raise both hands in surrender, but from this angle, you can't tell if his expression is sincere or sarcastic. You try to shake it off, ready to go back home and wash your hands of the interaction. 

The Undercity is supposed to be the city of self-reliance.

So why does everyone still treat you like a child?

The following day fares better. You bring your cane (just in case) for your shift at the shop, settling into your stool at the cash register. You're reading a book during the slower hours when a customer comes in and sets a stack of papers down onto the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the flyers and you lift your eyes to see a familiar face.

“If it's alright, I'd like to add these to your bulletin board,” the man from yesterday says, not even looking at you. He leans on the counter, looking out the large windows to the street. “Got a meeting coming up and want to get the word out.”

Finally, he turns to you.

You watch as his face cycles from apathy to confusion to recognition. His eyes dart down to your stool and the surrounding area, seemingly looking for your wheelchair. When he comes up empty, he looks back up to your face, head tilting to the side.

“I didn't need it today,” you preemptively answer. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he's quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to insinuate—”

“That I'm faking?”

“No! Never!” he says, hands coming up in surrender, again. His shoulders sag forward slightly and he runs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I'm sorry, can we start again?”

He puts his hand out. You eye it warily.

“Hi, I'm Silco.”

Your lips thin, but you take his hand.

“Hi, Silco.” You give him your name.

“I would like to put these up on your bulletin board,” he says, nodding to the corkboard behind you.

You put your hand out.

“Only two,” you instruct. “One here and the one in the back.”

He starts to hand you the flyers, but then pulls back.

“I can put up the one out back,” he offers.

“It's fine,” you say, insisting with a gesture of your hand. “I can do it.”

Silco looks at your hand then up to your face, understanding slowly spreading across his features. He nods, mostly to himself, as he hands you the papers.

“Of course.”

You take one flyer and a thumbtack from the corner of the board, stabbing it in place with a bit more force than necessary.

“You should come,” Silco says from behind you. “We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just think about it,” he says softly, gathering the pile of papers. With a small, almost apologetic, smile, he leaves.

You lift the remaining flyer, scanning it.

Children of Zaun 

Town Hall

Wednesday 

4pm

The Last Drop 

“Hey, Monte?” you call out. “If it's okay, I think I'm gonna head out a little early.”

Your boss peeks his head out from one of the aisles, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose.

“That's fine,” he reassures you, calling your name. “We're pretty slow today; I can take it from here.”

You take your cane from behind the counter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!”

You make your way to The Last Drop, having spent a couple days wrestling internally about whether or not to go. You had heard of the Children of Zaun, but not really given them much thought. From what you'd heard, they were a ragtag group of misfits posing as rebels, claiming to want independence from Piltover. You had rolled your eyes in disbelief at the notion. Besides, you have plenty of your own concerns to worry about; it's not as if you have time to take up some righteous cause.

But Silco's words ring in your ear, propelling you forward.

“We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

What did he mean by that? “Like yours”—what’s that supposed to mean? So they want some sort of token disabled person on their crew to make them look better or something?

But the sincere remorse on his face and the softness of his tone told you otherwise. 

Maybe he meant it.

Maybe he does actually want to hear what you might have to say.

So you walk up to The Last Drop, hand clutching your cane, holding it less like a walking stick and more like a blunt force weapon (which it has had to be, on occasion). Taking a deep breath, you pull your shoulders back, and push open the door.

You're by no means early, but there's no way this is the entire gang. You can count on exactly one hand the number of people that showed up. There's Silco, standing with his back to you, what looks to be a couple sharing a table, and then two larger men standing by the bar. You're immediately filled with regret and start to turn back around, until you hear someone call your name.

“You came!” Silco says, more excitement in his voice than you'd expect. “Hey, this is who I told you about.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to you and you feel rooted on the spot.

You shoot Silco a look.

He told them about you? What could he possibly have said?

He gestures you forward, leading you to the couple at the table. You take one of the empty seats and Silco sits in the one next to you. He leans forward, one forearm barred along the wooden surface as he addresses the couple.

“I told you we were missing something,” he starts. “That this—” he gestures to the group, forefinger pointed and moving in a circle, “wasn't enough.”

That same forefinger comes down, tapping incessantly on the table.

“If we're to be the voice of Zaun, we need to make sure that everyone has a spot at the table.”

The woman glances at you before turning back to Silco, nodding slightly as she speaks.

“Okay…” she nods a little more, as if the thought is taking root in her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turns toward you. “My name is Felicia and this is Connol,” she says, leaning her head toward the man next to her. 

“Felicia. Connol. Nice to meet you.”

You shake hands with both of them.

“Would you like a drink?”

You pull your lips through your teeth and Felicia is quick to reassure you.

“Don't worry; it's on the house.” She straightens up, calling out to the large man behind the bar. “Vander! Some beer!”

“Get it yourself!” he calls back.

“Fuck you,” she laughs.

“Oy,” the other man says, bringing a tray over. “Watch yer language ‘round the new recruit.”

Felicia laughs.

“They’re an adult, Benzo; they can handle it.”

You look back at her and she offers you a smirk. You take the free mug of beer and Silco raises his up in toast.

“To the Children of Zaun.”

Felicia and Connol mirror the movement.

“The Children of Zaun!”

You lift your glass and say the words, though you don't take them to heart just yet. But as you bring the mug to your lips, you can't help the small smile from creeping onto your face.

Every Wednesday, you leave the shop to go to the bar. And every Wednesday, you become a little more smitten.

With the cause.

With the man that introduced you to it.

The more you get to know Silco, the more you realize your first impression of him wasn't a good representation of the man he is. 

Or, perhaps, maybe it was the perfect representation.

A man who only wants to help, eager to uplift those around him. So excited to do so that he steps on a few toes in the process. He's stumbling and clumsy with his help, but he's quick to apologize and quick to learn. 

It doesn't take long for you to realize—he’s that way with everyone. It wasn't just you and it wasn't just because you're disabled. He's always on alert for if someone could use a hand, always first to arrive when someone asks for assistance. That's just who he is.

And if this is one of the rebels trying to uplift the Undercity, the Nation of Zaun is in good hands.

Silco is keeping you company at the shop, following you around as you restock some items. He carries a crate of goods while you arrange them on displays, your discerning eye careful to make them look as appealing as possible.

You drop one of the small boxes and Silco is quick to bend down to grab it.

“Silco,” you warn, “What'd I say about helping without being asked?”

“Sorry, right,” he says, straightening up to let you retrieve it. “Force of habit.”

You grin up at him, chuckling. “I'm just fucking with you.”

With some assistance from him, you get out of your wheelchair and resume your place at the cash register. Silco takes the opportunity to sit in your chair, long fingers fiddling with the wheels. You laugh as he tries to maneuver the chair around the front of the shop.

“Have you learned any tricks on this thing?” he asks, trying to lean back and balance it so that his feet lift off the ground.

“It's a wheelchair, not a skateboard, you jackass.”

“That's a ‘no’ then,” he says, smirking. But the smirk is wiped clean off his face when the chair tumbles backwards, sending him crashing to the floor.

You let out a bark of a laugh at that, laughing even harder when he starts to groan.

“Serves you right!” You grab your cane, gingerly getting off the stool to help him back up. “If you broke my chair, I swear to Janna… Do you know how hard these are to get? I had to pay so much coin for it.” 

You point your cane at him threateningly, but he wraps his fingers around it and tugs, pulling you forward. A startled squeak at your throat, you fall on top of him, catching yourself just in time so you don't headbutt him.

“Silco—”

“Now we're both down here,” he teases, smirking.

“Wonderful,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “What a masterful plan.”

Something sparks behind Silco's ocean green eyes, something playful, mischievous.

“I'll say it is.”

And with that, he lifts his head, closing the distance between your lips. Your eyebrows lift and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours. His hand comes up to tenderly cradle your face and you lean into the kiss, pressing your chest to his so you're flush with him. You don't know how much time has passed, but as you kiss him, you feel as light as a cloud, until—

“Hey!”

You straighten up, face red with blush.

“I don't pay you to swap spit with the customers,” Monte says, but there's no bite to his words. “Get up before someone trips on you.”

You laugh, pressing your forehead to Silco's. 

“Here.” You push yourself up, offering him a hand. “Let me help you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had a friend group like this. Ever since the accident that caused your disability, no one seems to have the patience to deal with your rougher days, as if you’re holding them back.

It’s hard to not internalize that feeling.

But with Silco and the rest of the Children of Zaun, you feel different. Whereas before, it felt like your mere presence was a burden, you feel seen and appreciated. You feel heard.

When you tell Vander that the bathroom stalls are too tiny for your chair, he knocks the dividers down to make room.

When you lament about the small step outside the front door, Benzo throws together a small wooden ramp. 

More and more, The Last Drop feels like home, though going to the basement or the upstairs office still eludes you. It’s not that you can’t. It’s more that you’re worried that you’ll have to ask for help to get you back on the ground floor should you get stuck in either place. But, there’s never really been any reason for you to visit either floor, so you’re content to stay in the main bar area, occasionally ducking into the back room when the crowd gets a little too loud.

It’s on one such trip to the storage room that Silco finds you, huddled on the floor, your cane propped up next to you. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your palms pressed flat against your ears, trying in vain to drown out the sounds of the bar. You had made the mistake of visiting during peak hours and didn’t have the energy to go all the way back home. You thought you could power through it until the customers dwindled, but it became too much. So, you retreated to the back room, holding back tears.

“We have one more!” Silco calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, talking to Vander who tends the bar. “After this, we’ll need to get more.”

He turns over his shoulder to see you on the floor. Immediately, his voice lowers and he crouches down to get eye level, your name a reassuring coo on his throat.

“Hey… are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Okay, just… give me a second.”

You hear him pick up a crate of bottles. The door swings open, letting in the raucous noise from outside. You let out a whimper as the door swings closed. After a few tense minutes, the door opens again and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, I’m back,” Silco coos. There’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to you. “What do you need?”

It’s a sentence you practically trained him to ask. With his tendency to charge forward offering the help he thinks you need, you managed to finally get him to learn to ask you first. 

It’s a small gesture, but at this moment, it’s everything.

“I need…” Your breath is shaky, your eyes holding back tears. “I need quiet. And— And it’s too far to walk home.”

Silco shifts, moving to crouch in front of you, hands on either of your shoulders. He squeezes them and you look up to see a tender expression on his face. Not pity or condescension. Concern. Sincere, genuine concern.

“It’s much quieter upstairs in the office,” he offers. “Do you think you can make it?”

Your lips tighten. It��s hard to think with so much noise; you can barely hear your own thoughts. It doesn’t help that you can feel a flare up coming on, pain shooting through your legs.

“I… I don’t know.”

You watch Silco chew on the inside of his mouth, thinking. 

“I could… carry you.”

You shoot a look at him, equal parts indignation and humiliation.

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal.” He looks around the storage room as if he’ll find an alternative answer. “But the sooner we get you out of here, the sooner you can feel better.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, wrestling internally. The sting behind your eyes is threatening to push past your defenses. Finally, wordlessly, you nod.

“Okay,” he says, tone firm. 

His ocean green eyes dart around your body, trying to figure out how best to pick you up that keeps your dignity intact. But before he can reach a decision, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to yourself, holding him in a tight embrace.

“Oh! Hey…” He melts into the hug, bringing both arms around your back, squeezing you gently. “It’s okay.” He rubs your back with one hand, palm warm against your shirt. “It’s okay. We all need help sometimes.”

“I did too much today,” you say into the crook of his neck, tears escaping your eyes. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Shhhh…” he shushes, shifting his arms as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you along. 

You manage to get to your feet, but your legs feel wobbly and unstable under your weight.

“Here, let me…” Silco bends down and hangs your cane over the crook of his elbow before bringing one arm behind your knees. “On three. One… two… three.”

You lift your legs up and he scoops you up in his arms, straightening to a stand. Instinctively, you wrap both your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“I got you,” he coos. “I’ve got you.” He takes one final look around the room before pushing the door open with his back. “We’ll go behind the bar; no one will even know.”

You nod, tears flowing in earnest now to stain Silco’s shirt.

You press one ear to the crook of his neck, trying to dampen the loud voices of the bar patrons. At that, Silco walks a little faster, making his way up the staircase. In his haste, he drops your cane on the landing.

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll go back for it,” he says, continuing forward.

After opening the door and carefully depositing you onto the plush red cushions of the couch, he darts out the door, returning with your cane in hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you.

“There.” He rubs your hip as you lay on your side. “Is that better?”

You nod, reorienting yourself to rest your head on his lap. Silco settles on the couch, bringing one hand to your head, smoothing down your hair in soft reassuring strokes. His other hand grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.

It’s finally quiet.

Your legs still ache, but it’s not as bad as it was before. You can feel the rise and fall of Silco’s chest against your back, his breathing a calming rhythm.

“Thank you, Silco,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he whispers back.

After a moment, he shifts, bending down to bring his lips to your temple. You smile at the touch, feeling warmth settle behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve never heard you apologize before and I don’t want to hear it now.”

The firmness in his voice has you turning your face to look up at him. There’s a resoluteness in his expression, a confidence you typically see reserved for Children of Zaun meetings. He looks off into the distance, as if seeing something that’s not there. A vision. A promise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continues. His chin dips and his ocean green eyes find yours. His eyebrows lift and his lips curl into a soft smile, full of pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:19 pm]

(based on this TikTok)

"And I can't just sit around and keep waiting," You sigh, threading your fingers through your hair in frustration. "You told me you weren't ready for a relationship and for months I've been waiting and I've been patient. But Jeno, I'm starting to think I'm waiting for nothing and wasting my time. Am I right?"

Jeno doesn't say anything. He doesn't even have it in him to look you in the eye right now. His eyes remain focused on a single pulled thread on his sleeve. He can't find the words you want to hear or even the words to begin to explain how deeply he feels for you.

"I guess that's enough of an answer. Bye, Jeno." He hears your voice before the front door opens. The loud sound of the heavy rainfall meets his ears for just a second before he jumps up and follows you out. You're already soaked to the bone in the few moments you've been outside.

"Get back inside!" Jeno yells out.

You turn to look at him and it's then that Jeno notices your red eyes. Even with the rain he can tell you're crying and it makes him feel awful.

Jeno sighs to himself and hypes himself up before chasing after you. The cold water immediately makes him tense, makes him yearn for the warmth of his home, his comfortable couch with a movie on and you by his side.

He grabs your hand and pulls you closer. He loves the way your hand fits in his, loves the warmth and the softness that's always there. "I love you, alright?" Jeno yells over the pounding rain, "I love you and I'm the world's most stupid man to have kept someone like you waiting for me. I was nervous and I was scared that making us official would change everything for the worse. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

Your eyes widen at his confession, heart pounding in your ears even harder than the drops of water pounding against the floor. His hair is drenched and his oversized sweater hangs heavily on his lithe frame as the water weighs it down. You look into his eyes and see the fear, the apprehension, and the anxiety.

Jeno has always been the type to show you he cared for you as more than a friend with his actions. He'd get you small gifts, act affectionately, press kisses to your temples or hold your hand. He did all of this and refused to commit to you in an official relationship, not wanting to make things official for some fear he hadn't voiced until now.

"Why now?" You ask quietly.

"Because I lost you for less than a minute and it felt like someone ripped my heart right out of my chest. Because you make every day I'm with you a million times better. Because you mean more to me than anyone I've ever met or will meet. Because I can't organize all the words of every language in the world to express to you how deeply I feel for you. Because you mean everything to me and I am nothing without you," Jeno confesses more quietly, pressing his forehead against your own as his hands come up to cup your cheeks.

The sound of the rain seems to quiet around the two of you, it's just your breaths that fill this tiny space between you. The cold has faded as your blood pumps throughput your body with excitement and adrenaline.

His eyes look different now. The look in his eyes tells you he's being genuine, he's looking at you like you were made for him.

You can't find it in you to respond, there's no way you can top his confession. Instead, you press your lips against his. It's a perfect fit. His lips are cold and chapped but there's a a hunger in the way his lips move. It's searing and passionate as he tastes your mouth, expresses his love through his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him back with as much passion and love as he does.

You both pull away, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jeno smiles at you, his cheeks rosy, "let's get inside. I'll give you some clothes and we can watch a movie."

You both get back inside, shivering for many minutes even after you're both bundled up under a blanket and cuddling, but there's no place else you'd rather be.

[bat-mom-writer]

Impulses

Bruce Wayne(Husband) X Reader(Wife)

Summery: you can be very quick to act on your impulse, usually being done with a kind heart. But can sometimes lead to you and some others being hurt.

Note: Something tells me Bruce wouldn't go to therapy, but this isn't real so...

Rate: Loving Bruce, the very small almost of angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, tell me Bruce, are you happily married?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well," Bruce pauses, thinking over his words carefully, "it's not exactly that simple."

The therapist's office was quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it was holding its breath. Bruce Wayne sat in a chair that was a little too small for his broad shoulders, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It was a simple room, with a few plants scattered around and a faint scent of lavender in the air, but it was the last place he ever thought he'd be. He was a man who dealt with Gotham's problems from the shadows, not one who talked about his own in a well-lit space with a box of tissues within arm's reach.

"How so?" the therapist asked again, her voice gentle but firm, bringing Bruce back to the present.

He sighed. "Well, my wife… she's incredible. She's kind and she's the glue that holds our family together."

The therapist nodded, her expression neutral. "But?"

Bruce leaned back, rubbing his temples. "But she's… impulsive. She does things without considering the consequences, especially when it comes to the boys."

The therapist made a note in her pad. "Could you give me an example?"

Bruce sighed heavily, his mind racing with instances. "Once we went hiking, and she found a baby wolf, injured and alone. She insisted on bringing it back to the manor to care for it herself. Most of my sons thought it would be a great idea—until we realized it had a pack out there looking for it, and suddenly we had a bunch of very unhappy wolves on our backs."

The therapist looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I see. And how did that situation resolve?"

Bruce chuckled, a bit nervously. "Let's just say there were a lot of stitches involved. And I haven't heard anyone wanting to go camping again ever since."

The therapist's eyes widened, but she remained calm. "It seems she has a heart of gold, but maybe a bit of an overactive sense of adventure."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. And it's not just with animals. She once tried to organize a surprise street carnival in the middle of Gotham because she thought the city needed more joy. You can imagine the chaos that ensued with all the traffic rerouting and permits she didn't bother to get."

The therapist's pen stopped mid-stroke. "Ah, so her intentions are good, but the execution could use some work."

Bruce nodded emphatically. "You have no idea. She's the love of my life, but sometimes I worry she's going to get us all into trouble. The boys look up to her, especially Dick and Damian."

The therapist leaned in slightly. "How do Dick and Damian react to her impulsive nature?"

"Dick tries to be the voice of reason, but he's young and still learning the ropes of being a responsible older brother. And Damian," Bruce sighed, "he's more like me—he's intrigued by the chaos she creates, but he's also the one who ends up getting hurt when things go awry."

The therapist nodded understandingly. "It's natural for children to look up to their parents, especially when they see the love and good intentions behind their actions. But it's also important for them to learn about boundaries and the potential consequences of impulsivity. How does your wife react when you bring this up with her?"

Bruce leaned forward, his expression a mix of affection and exasperation. "She's… well, she's stubborn. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities, and she wants to experience all of them. I get that, I do. But we can't live our lives on the edge like that, especially with the kind of enemies I've made over the years."

The therapist nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's a delicate balance, isn't it? Wanting to keep your family safe and also allowing them the freedom to live their lives fully. How have you been managing this?"

Bruce's smile grew a bit wistful. "Well, my wife is also the lively part of our lives. Without her, the manor would be just a fortress, not a home. She brings laughter and light to every room she enters. She's the one who convinced me to let Tim build a skateboard ramp in the garage, and even though it's a hazard to my cars, I can't help but smile when I hear them all out there, having fun."

The therapist nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "It sounds like you appreciate her spirit, but it's important to establish boundaries to ensure everyone's safety. Have you tried discussing the potential dangers with her?"

Bruce leaned back, his eyes drifting to the floor. "I've tried," he admitted. "But she's… she's like a tornado of love and enthusiasm. It's hard to say no to her."

The therapist nodded, her expression understanding. "It's clear you care deeply for her and the boys. Perhaps it's time to find a way to channel that enthusiasm into safer outlets."

"I know," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "But she's so… so alive. It's like trying to cage a butterfly."

The therapist nodded. "It's not about caging her, Bruce. It's about guiding her. Teaching her and the boys to weigh risks and rewards. To channel their energy into something positive without endangering themselves or others."

Bruce sat in silence, contemplating her words. He knew she was right, but it was easier said than done when it came to his vibrant wife. Her zest for life was both infectious and overwhelming at times. He thought back to the street carnival she had organized. The look of joy on the citizens' faces as they played games and ate cotton candy was something he hadn't seen in Gotham in a long time.

"There not all bad," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her impulses have led to some amazing moments, too."

"Like what?" the therapist prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Bruce's smile grew as he recalled a recent incident. "Last week, she found out about a fundraising event for an underfunded children's hospital. Without asking, she decided to host a masquerade ball at the manor. She convinced Alfred to help, and together they transformed the place into a fairy tale. The kids had the time of their lives, and we ended up raising a fortune for those kids."

The therapist returned his smile. "That does sound wonderful. It seems her spontaneity has its benefits."

Bruce nodded. "It does. But it's also a double-edged sword. I want to support her, but I also need to keep everyone safe."

The therapist leaned back in her chair. "Communication is key, Bruce. It's about expressing your concerns without squashing her spirit. Have you tried talking to her about how her impulsiveness affects you?"

Bruce sighed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "I've tried, but she takes it personally. She thinks I'm trying to control her."

The therapist nodded, her expression empathetic. "It's a common misconception. Setting boundaries isn't about control; it's about care and safety. Have you framed it that way?"

Bruce furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure. I've usually approached it from the perspective of the danger it could pose to the boys."

"It's important to express your feelings," the therapist said. "Tell her how her actions affect you and why you worry. It might help her understand your perspective better."

Bruce nodded slowly, considering her advice. It was true; he hadn't shared his own fears with her, only the potential risks to the boys. Perhaps that was where he was going wrong.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll think about what you've said."

The therapist stood and offered a warm smile. "Remember, Bruce, it's about balance. And sometimes, that means taking a risk to find it."

Bruce nodded, her words echoing in his mind as he left the office and stepped into the Gotham night. The city was alive with the pulse of its inhabitants, a stark contrast to the calmness he'd just left behind. His thoughts were racing, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his need for security and his wife's boundless spirit.

As he drove back to Wayne Manor, the grandeur of the estate came into view, the gothic architecture a stark contrast to the chaos of the city beyond its gates. The manor was more than just a home; it was a bastion of hope in a city that desperately needed it. The lights were on in the windows, a warm glow that promised sanctuary from the cold outside.

When he walked in, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You was in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you pulled a tray out of the oven. You turned to him, your face lighting up with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. "Hi, honey! How was your day?"

Bruce took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. "It was… interesting," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "How about yours?"

"Oh, you know," you replied with a shrug, placing the cookies on a rack to cool. "Just the usual—keeping the boys out of trouble, planning the next big surprise for them." you winked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bruce felt a twinge of both fondness and dread. He knew that look all too well. It was the look you got when she had another harebrained scheme up your sleeve. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into an embrace. "How about we talk about these surprises together from now on?"

You tilted your head back, your smile fading a bit. "What do you mean?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "I mean, I know you love surprising the boys, and I love that about you. But sometimes, your surprises have… unintended consequences. I want to be there to support you, but I also need to make sure everyone is safe."

You leaned back, looking up at him with a slightly defensive expression. "Not all of my surprises turn out bad," you said, your voice a bit softer than before.

Bruce felt his heart squeeze at the sight of you, flour smudged on your cheek and apron, looking so earnest. He gave a tight smile, trying to ease the tension. But his face was screaming, "Are you sure?"

You took a step back, "Okay, okay, maybe most of them," you conceded. "But the good ones make up for it, right?"

Bruce sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "They do," he agreed. "But it's the potential for danger that I can't ignore. And not just for the boys, but for you too."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the flour on your apron. "Me? I'm fine. I can handle myself."

Bruce's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice serious. "How many times have you ended up in the hospital because of one of your… adventures?"

You winced, remembering the last time you had tried to rescue a cat stuck in a tree, only to end up with a broken arm and a bruised ego. "Okay, okay," you repeated, holding up your hands in surrender. "I get it. I can be a bit… much."

Bruce's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "You're not 'much', you're amazing. I just don't want to lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in. "I know," you said, your voice small. "But what about you? You're not much different, Bruce. Maybe even worse. You go out every night as Batman, risking your life."

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. "That's different," he said firmly. "That's for the city."

"Is it?" you asked, looking up at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes. "Or is it because you've convinced yourself that it's your duty? That you're the only one who can do it?"

Bruce's jaw tightened at your question. It was a fair point, one he'd wrestled with in the quiet moments of his life. He knew that his crusade as Batman was driven by his own fears and the need to keep the city that had taken his parents safe. But he also knew that the stakes were higher for him than they were for you.

"I've been trained for that," he said finally. "You… you have the biggest heart in the world, but sometimes you don't think about the risks."

You nodded, looking down at the cookies cooling on the rack. "I know," you murmured. "But it's just so hard to resist when I see something that could bring joy to people, especially the boys."

Bruce stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. "I know your heart's in the right place," he said. "But we can't keep playing Russian roulette with our lives, not when we have so much to lose. I don't want to lose you. Or see you get hurt. I'm just asking, please, consider the risks before you act. And come to me, talk to me, let's find a way to make this work."

You searched his eyes, the gravity of his words sinking in. You knew he wasn't trying to stifle you; he was just worried. "Okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'll try."

Bruce's expression relaxed a bit, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now, how about we sit down and talk about what's been on your mind? Maybe we can come up with some ideas together."

You nodded, swiping a strand of hair from your forehead. "Alright, I'll finish up on the cookies and then we can talk. Until then, want to help? Just to make sure I don't hurt myself?"

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Sure," he said, taking the spatula from your hand. "Let's do this together."

As you both worked side by side in the kitchen, the tension began to ease. You chatted about the different flavors of cookies and which ones the boys would like best, while Bruce carefully placed the finished ones on a plate. The rhythm of your conversation was soothing, and it reminded him of the first time he had met you—how your laugh had filled a room and made him feel alive again.

[writerfromshikahr]

Because Illario can't help himself flirt with Rook and I had to use "that line" to start a little piece.

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Enough, Illario (Part 1) - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"You know, de Riva, you chose the wrong Dellamorte."

Rook's eyebrow arched. "Is that so? I wasn't aware I had chosen one at all."

Lucanis shot him a look.

"I'm charming, clearly more handsome, and the things I can do to you—" Illario started, but Lucanis kicked him under the café table, making him jolt in his chair.

"That's enough, cousin," Lucanis said quietly.

"What?! We're just having a little fun. Always so serious, Lucanis."

"We are here to discuss Crow business, not inflate your already overstuffed ego. This is why your contracts always go wrong."

Illario smirked. "Sometimes wrong feels better." He winked at Rook.

"I'd prefer not to die anytime soon, yeah..." Rook replied flatly.

"See? Even Rook doesn't fall for your idiotic charm."

"Yet..." Illario added with a sly grin. "I have never failed to bed a Crow I fancy."

"Aww, how sweet. Well, you can call me your first disappointment then," she shot back.

Lucanis spat his coffee back into his cup, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I love a challenge from a beautiful woman," Illario smirked.

Rook's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a challenge. More like an impossibility."

Illario's eyes gleamed with amusement, clearly undeterred. "Impossibility? You wound me, mi amada. Surely you can't deny the allure of an irresistible man like myself."

Lucanis shot his cousin a pointed glare. "The only thing irresistible about you is your ability to ruin a meeting. Maybe focus on that talent instead."

Rook chuckled, her laugh soft and utterly unbothered by Illario's relentless flirting. "Lucanis does have a point. If your jobs are anything like your attempts to flirt, I can see why they might go sideways."

Illario placed a dramatic hand over his chest, pretending to be mortally offended. "You both wound me! And here I thought Antivan Crows were meant to appreciate style and finesse."

Lucanis sighed, clearly done with the conversation but unwilling to abandon the sharp amusement tugging at his lips. "Your version of 'style' belongs in a tavern, Illario, not at a Crow meeting."

Illario choked on his drink. "By the Maker, you two deserve each other. So serious, so sharp-tongued—it's no wonder you're not fun at parties."

"At least we leave them alive," Rook quipped.

Lucanis coughed to disguise the laugh threatening to escape, while his cousin sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not appreciated."

"Can you?" Lucanis muttered under his breath, earning him another laugh from Rook.

Illario wagged a finger at both of them. "One day, Rook, you'll regret underestimating my charms and all I can offer, in the bedroom and on a contract."

"Not likely," Rook replied smoothly, before turning her attention to Lucanis.

Illario leaned closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know, de Riva, a woman like you deserves someone who truly appreciates her. Someone who knows how to make you..."

Lucanis placed his coffee cup down just a little harder than necessary. "Enough, Illario."

"Touchy," he replied, grinning wider as he turned back to Rook. "But I understand. He’s always been the brooding type and never shares his feelings."

"And here I thought assassins were supposed to be elusive and guarded. Unlike you," she replied, her eyes darting briefly toward Lucanis, catching the flicker of tension in his expression.

"Don't worry, if subtlety ever bores you, you know where to find me."

"Careful, Illario," she replied, her tone sharp but amused. "Keep pushing, and Lucanis might decide to silence you for good."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Ah, but then he’d have to admit why he did it, and we couldn't have that now, could we, cousin?"

"Sometimes incrimination is worth the risk." Lucanis said into his coffee, taking a long, thoughtful sip.

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Part 2 can be found HERE

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[winxfairyliveshere]

Ruben Dias x Wife Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Hi! I really got so happy that you guys liked the part 1. I hope you will like this too.English is not my mother language so please excuse me for mistakes. Feedbacks are welcomed, enjoy <3

You climbed the stairs making too much effort. Your first pregnancy was not like this hard. But this time, it's complicated. After you climbed half of the stairs you stopped and took a few big breathes. Ruben was in the downstairs making noises you had no idea where they are coming from. You thought he was picking up his shoes. After you climbed the whole stairs you said to yourself, yes!, because it was really hard.

You waddled to your son's room, door was open. There were teeth brushing noises coming from his bathroom. You watched him while he is brushing. Oh, in your eyes he is the biggest man in the world. He can talk, he can sleep alone and he doesn't like it when you bath him! He is not the baby in the bassinet crying for you, looking for your skin anymore.

But while you are thinking all of this you thought you need to step up because he was being too harsh with his teeth. "Oh, oh buddy calm down, calm down." You took his hand and guided him. "You need to be gentle, remember? We have talked about this before, like this."

Brushing was over, you helped him get off the chair. He ran to the books and started to yell "I want Portuguese, Portuguese!" while bouncing. You started to collecting Portuguese books for him and said "Which one do you want?". He pulled one of the books from your hand and started waving in the air. You walked to the bed with him, he got in first.

"Come on mommy be fast"

"I am coming Teo, look i am huge."

"You are not huge mom you are pregnant." said while giving you a dead ass look.

Did he really pick this book? Really? He had dozens of books but he picked this one? Like he is doing this on purpose. Eu Amo Meu Papai (I love my dad).

Ruben's POV

Ruben scrathed his scalp while she was climbing the stairs. Wanted to help her like he always does, but he thought this time she will shove him. So he continued to clean his shoes but no. He just can't do it. He threw the cloth in his hand, it made cleaners fell. Collected all the shoes and put them in their bags.

"You are not in the football world." said to her. He thought, am i wrong though? Maybe he was, maybe he was not. He couldn't decide. He said in his head "She still sees me like the day we first met; strong and solid. But she is forgetting one thing: my age." That's why he said those sentences. And the word she said about "not seeing her as a soulmate?" Crap. "I was not under of a another man." Total bullshit. She can't.

The best thing he can do right now is fall into coma without dying: sleeping. So he went upstairs, his family's voices became more distinct as he walked towards his room.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, mãe. Your Portuguese is getting better also." He giggled at Teo's words.

"What! My Portuguese is always nice. Look at yours."

"Papai talks better."

"Of course he talks better, he is Portuguese." Something in Ruben's heart always melted when he acknowledge his identity: talking Portuguese, watching Portuguese cartoons or wanting to wear Portugal jersey.

Reader's POV

You ruffled his hair while saying "Of course he talks better, he is Portuguese." This boy always surprises you with his words.

"Teo, i am sorry for what happened. I should not yell." You played with his ears and said "Sorry ears"

"Maybe you should say sorry to papai's ears too." You looked at him. Gosh, he is literally Ruben's twin. You literally gave birth to another Ruben.

"Should i?"

"Can we go -yawns- to the papai's game?" You understood the signals he is giving and started to caress his head and hair. That's the trick for falling asleep. Right that time, door opened and you saw your husband. Ruben slowly entered the room, he was very careful not to make any noise. You made eye contact for a moment but quickly looked away from his eyes. He stretched his long and muscular arm towards your son's head and caressed his cheek. He slowly brought his head closer to Teo's face and left a small kiss on his other cheek. At that moment you smelled him, his presence almost crushed you. His neck was literally displaying itself right in front of your eyes. But remember, you guys had a fight. Fight.

You slowly removed your arm from under Teo's head. You need a help for getting up and here he is. Ruben stretched out his hands to you, you grabbed them. If you were not angry with him, you would have kissed his hands. You stood up with his help, didn't say a word. You tucked Teo in bed, Ruben was walking in front of you. You adjusted the intensity of night lamp and walked out of the room. When you closed the room, you felt his existence behind you. You didn't turn to him. When you realize he is gone, you walked to your room. Ruben was folding his t-shirt, already in night clothes. He doesn't like waking up to the pile of clothes all messy. You entered bathroom, took the toothbrush in one hand and the toothpaste in the other. Thanks to the big bathroom mirror, you could see Ruben. After brushing you applied your lip and face moisturizer and hopped to the another care routine which is Ruben found "unnecessary". Brushing hair! Well Ruben does not find brushing hair unnecessary, he founds brushing hair for 10 mins unnecessary. You deal with hair loss due to pregnancy, whatever you try does not help. So you find yourself brushing your hair for at least 10 mins. Maybe it makes worse, but when you do not brush it, there is always a big pile of hair on your pillow which makes you sad.

Ruben was laying on his back. Eyes fully open. Right to the ceiling. He opened duvet for you and you saw your pregnancy pillow placed like you always did. Was he saying sorry through his acts?

You sat on the bed, leaning your back against the headboard. Looked at him, still glued his eyes to the ceiling.

"Did your ears get hurt too?" you asked. He turned his head towards you. "What?" he said with a little smile.

"I asked a very clear question." After your response, he stopped lying on the bed and sat instead of it.

"Y/n, look at me." he cupped your face. His hands, you loved his hands. Always made you so safe: holding them, his hand on your thigh while driving, wandering around your body, his long fingers around your neck. Best necklace in the world.

Altough you think like that, you looked at him with a attidute and said, "I do not think i said something wrong. I am right about what i said."

"Yes i know but you need to listen to me also. I am so happy and blessed to have you in my life. I know no matter what happens, you are my number one supporter, you will stand with me. I am so happy for our family." caressed your belly, "So much i can not put into words. I said those words because football is changing, i am changing Y/n. Last game, i fucked up. Fucked up everything. Like it was not me playing. Then when i was in the changing room, sitting while i am disgusting with my performance, i saw them." You looked at him with interested eyes. "I saw my opponets. Yes opponets. They are my teammates but that was the first time i saw them as a opponent. With their young and stable bodies, they came and sat in front of me. I saw myself in them, when i was in Benfica, i always waited for some one to drop so i can get in the game. Y/n i am getting old."

"You are not getting old! You are just 32."

"That means i am getting old minha vida (my life). " said while caressing your arm.

"Nowadays footballers play until they are 40. You are no where close to 40 Ruben."

"I know but that does not relax me. There are people coming behind me and waiting for me not to play. One game, just one game me playing bad, that's it. That's their chance to shine. And i do not want others shine. Not yet."

You felt insane discomfort in your body. His words were like rain, storm. You could not do anything but stand.

"I really appreciate your support and trust towards me and i am sorry for what i said. You are my everything, my world. Like you are Earth and i am Moon, hovering around you. I am so sorry Y/n, i just feel so much pressure. I should not acted like that with you. And while Teo was there."

All your guard is down right now. You hugged him, felt sorry for him. Left a few pecks around his neck and shoulder. He looked at you with smiling eyes firstly but they changed so quick like he remembered something. He distanced himself.

"What? Am i smelling? I took a shower this morning." You started to sniff yourself.

"No no you are not. I just remembered something. Forbidden words, you said them." You did not understand his point.

"You talked about another man remember?"

You burst out laughing.

"No, stop laughing stop it." He tried to close your mouth but no, you did not stop laughing. You pulled the duvet over yourself, he spooned you with his body.

"As i said before, i am right about my words, i said facts. I was under you not any other man."

"I know amor i know. You are only mine."

Tags: @carmilladias @caraclocekfjrv @hockey-racing-fubol @mahivah @ciaraovnot and who sent me a message anonymous 💞

I think i need to find title for this one :)

[xxotothedeathx]

Introducing...

Royal Life - ROYAL!CHRIS STURNIOLO X ROYAL!READER

PART 1

warnings: smut, enemies to lovers, size kink, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap), daddy issues, angst, petnames (babh, princess, slut, my girl, ect), use of y/n, homophobia (NOT FROM READER), cussing, oral (f recieving), no aftercare, taken virginity, degrading, NOT PROOF READ,

details: ROYAL!READER will be using SHE/HER!! in which y/ns father has arranged her to marry chris, the prince of the rival kingdom. little does he know his daughter has met him before.

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, i absolutely LOVED writing it. i am a BIG chris girl, so i love writing for him! lmk what other scenarios i should write!!

"Mom, you can't let him do this!"

You shout, turning to your mom with an angered look.

"Honey, its no lady like to yell."

Is her only response. You stare at her dumbfounded.

"Your mother has no say in this"

Your father snarls, stepping in between you and your mother.

"The king of Halker has two other sons, why does it have to be Chris!?"

"Because, Matt is married."

"What about Nick?"

"He has been exiled from the kingdom. He is no longer a prince."

Your face drops at your fathers words. Flashback of the kind soul running through your head. Times you two hid from the war together, or snuck to the river seperating your kingdoms to talk to each other. What could such a sweet man do to be exiled?

"Why...?"

Your voice breaks unwillingly as you speak.

"He was caught having intercourse...with a man. Disgusting. If he were not exiled, I would've forbid you from seeing him anyway."

Anger bubbles in your throat at your fathers word, tears swell in your eyes. You lower your gaze to the ground, your head following.

"You must despise love."

You mumble, but your father catches on.

"What do you speak of? Love is the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Then why must you tear it from other people!?"

You snap your head back up as you speak, gritting your teeth and yelling.

"What are you talking about!?"

Your father screams, his fists tightening into a ball.

"Your forcing me to marry a man I do not wish to! And you find someone disgusting for loving the same gender? How is it disgusting, it is just love!"

Your father slaps you hard, causing you to gasp as your hand flies to your quickly reddening cheek.

Tears finally fall from your eyes and onto your face, like a waterfall breaking past a beaver dam at last.

"You will not speak to me like that! You will marry Chris Sturniolo tomorrow, end of the discussion. I do not understand why you are upset. You've never even met the man!"

Your father sighs, turning and walking towards your mother. You can only stare at him in disbelief as memories flood your mind.

~beginning of flashback~

You let out a sob as you fall onto the dirty forest floor. Snapping your head back to see if you lost him.

You hadnt.

He was standing over you, a rock in hand.

"Please... Chris..."

You plead, but he just scoffed.

"You fucking slut."

He snarled, throwing the rock at your face. You lifted your arm up, protecting your face. The rock hit your arm hard, bruising and gashing it open.

He stared and watched you bleed before walking away and leaving you there.

Your father never knew about this because one of your maids had cleaned you up, and you paid her to keep her mouth shut.

~end of flashback~

You wipe your eyes before speaking.

"I hate you!"

The words leave your mouth in a scream, and before your father turns to hit you again, you run to your room.

You rush into your room, falling into your personal maids arms, sobbing.

She comforts you, helps you change into your nighttime robes, and tucks you into bed.

You lay there, thinking about how pathetic this is. A 20 year old princess getting tucked in by her maid.

You sigh as the maid walks out, and you slowly fall asleep.

———

You wake up to someone poking your cheek, assuming it was the maid you swat their hand away.

"Leave me alone.."

You groan, rolling around.

"Get up."

Your eyes shoot open as you hear the familar voice, and you quicky sit up, wrapping the blanket around you to cover yourself. You look at him. Chris.

"Why are you here?"

You speak, tensing up.

"We're getting married today, what do you mean?"

He scoffs, sitting down on the bed edge next to you. On instinct, you scoot away slightly, squezzing the blanket to cover more.

He notices and rolls his eyes.

"Are you still shaken up by that time in the forest? That was 2 years ago."

He mocks you, but you don't respond and just stare at him. Eventually, he sighs and stands up.

"Your father said to dress in a white gown and meet us downstairs. The preacher is here and waiting."

He walks out, and you can feel tears. You really dont wanna get married.

~time skip~

You step into Chris's. Well, now yours and his. It's quite large, bigger than yours at your home.

You look around, sitting on the edge of bed. Your night gown in hand.

Your personal maid is dropping all your stuff by tomorrow. You look at chris, who is looking through his wardrobe.

"Chris, I uh, I need to change."

"Then change. We're married, it doesn't matter."

You nod, standing up and placing your night gown on the bed as you quickly take off your dress.

As you're laying your dress on the bed, you reach for your night gown. But before you can grab it, you feel two hands on your waist.

You quickly stand up straight, tensing skightly. You feel a head nuzzle into the crook of your neck, and Chris's hair tickles as it falls against you.

"You smell good..."

He mumbles against your neck. You feel a small, open mouthed, kiss on your neck. The sensation makes you gasp softly.

"Mm, my girl is so pretty."

He speaks as if you've been together for years, and you feel his hips grinding into yours, his buldge rubbing against your most intimate area.

You squeeze your lips together, trying to surpress your moans. When he bites your neck, your head falls back against his shoulder as a quiet whimper falls from your mouth

"Lay down for me, baby..."

He speaks, lifting his head and taking his hands off your waist. You do as he says, climbing into bed and laying on your back. Your movements cause the gown and dress to fall off the bed.

He follows shortly after you, hovering above your body. He stares into your eyes, almost as if he's trying to read your mind.

Then, he starts moving down, kissing your chest. At the feeling of his lips on your skin, you let out a breath that you didn't realize you were holding.

His hand sneaks under you, unclasping your bra. He gently kisses each breast, licking your nipples before kissing a trail down your body.

You gasps as he kisses the most intimate place on you through your panties. This causes him to smirk.

"Aw, princess, never done this before, hm?"

You shake your head, staring down at him as he drags your panties down with his teeth.

He crawls back up to your pussy, licking it once. You throw your head back and whimper and the new feeling.

He smirks at this, massaging your clit with his thumb while his tongue teases your folds.

You let out a loud yelp as you feel his tongue enter into your folds, swirlling around the inside of your pussy.

He curls his tongue up, hitting a certain spot that sends a sensatiom you've never felt throughout your body. Your head throws itself back as your hips involuntarily buck up into Chris's face.

His thumb presses down on your clit as his tongue swirls around. You can feel yourself becoming close.

"Chris, I...I think im gonna-"

You cut yourself off with a load moan, almost a scream as you feel yourself release all over Chris's face.

He pulls away, licking up any mess before wiping his face off with his shirt.

He quickly discards his own clothes, leaving you staring at his hardened cock. It's much bigger than you thought.

"Big, right?"

You look back up to Chris, who is staring at you.

Without leaving his gaze, you prop yourself up on your elbows and nod slowly. He slowly lays down on top of you, supporting himself with his own elbows.

"You can take it anyway, cant you?"

His cock brushes against your pussy, cause your elbows to give in and a moan to eacape your lips.

Now, laying flat on your back, you wrap your arms around Chris's neck and pull him into a kiss.

He kisses you back aggressively while simultaneously lining himself up with your entrance.

He pulls away momentarily,

"Ready?"

You nod eagerly.

"Use your words, princess."

"Yes."

And with that, you can feel him entering you. You let out a yelp from the initial pain. He kisses you again, slowly pushing in.

When he finally bottoms out, he lays still for a minute, still kissing you. He pulls away, looking at you.

"Tell me when it doesn't hurt anymore."

You squeeze your eyes shut, adjusting to his size.

"...it doesn't hurt anymore.."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Chris is thrusting in and out of you. You throw your head back, loud whines and moans leaving your mouth.

Chris groans, but it sounds almost like a whimper. He leans down, attacking your neck with kisses and bites.

You feel him speed up, and words leave your mouth before you even think.

"Fuck, Chris...your so big.."

You can feel his cock twitch inside you, and his thrusts speed up.

"Hell yeah I am, and your gonna take it like the slut you are."

You thought you would be hurt by his words, but for some reason it made your back arch into him and your nails dig into his skin.

Chris obviously noticed.

"You like that? Like it when I call you a slut while my big cock slams into you? Hmm?"

His words mixed with the sensation of his cock hitting the perfect spot, made your eyes roll back as you let out a loud whine.

"Fuck, Y/N Im gonna cum. Cum with me, okay?"

You nod eagerly at his words, already feeling yourself on the edge.

His thrusts become sloppy and fast, which causes your nails to dig even further into his skin.

"Come one, princess. Be a good slut and cum all over this big cock."

His words send you over the edge, and you feel yourself release all over him.

Soon after, you feel strings of warmth shoot into your pussy. He thrusts a couple times after he's done before pulling out.

He sits on his knees, looking down at you. You open your eyes to see cold, emotionless ones staring right back at you.

"Still the same slut you've always been."

He scoffs before getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

You sigh. You knew it was too good to be true.

You wrap yourself up in the blankets, closing your eyes.

A single tear rolls down your face as you wonder if he meant anything he said. You eventually fall asleep before he comes back.

is this good? do yall like it? cant wait to write pt.2!!

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

WOW, a Mario Reacts! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Hell yeah, I can work with this!

(no bc seriously, I just finished watching ep. 7 of Arcane before this and I need an emotional break, yeah I know the rest of Act 3 is gonna kill me)

(the following is my live reaction:)

oh hey, Mario! Wassup?

jigsaw, is that you?

oh nvm, hello Swag! nice to see you again since last episode

I'm about to commit a crime [*strikes a pose then walks away*]

I'm willing to work in a government office just so I can come up with an acronym like, gee idk, Y.U.R.I. or something (I should've been a worker in NASA)

NO STOP STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?!

At this point, Mario, I would just give up

[*clears throat*] mejor me muero, ni modo que sigo con estos porquerías. bueno como dice Mario, bye bye [*drinks some water*] alright I'm back

TADC? ah, just a normal Saturday

no thoughts, head empty

honestly, mood

well, in his own way, yeah

[*echoes announcer voice*] VR, the new era of entertainment

...mr puzzles? nah jk jk

oh, Four's theory may not be wrong here (omg it's jesus)

still can't believe christianity is canon in the SMG4 universe

oh, so I was right! [*jigsaw voice*] "I wanna play a game."

That's actually kinda sweet that he immediately chooses his brother

OH SHIT OOOOH that's gotta hurt

NO MARIO, THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

[*other me pops in*] emo girlfriend, omg it's smg3

no, we're NOT gonna look too much into this, shut up other me

PPFFFTTT that caught me so off guard

say it with me now: YOU CAN'T CONTROL MARIO [*applause*]

I mean, we've been through simulations before, we can take this one too

unironically, I wouldn't mind a 10-hour video of just Mario (and/or the rest of the Crew) just dancing :)

it doesn't even need to have music, I can just put my playlist on and I would totally join in

ooooh, you want to scan that QR code so badly

but also, how did they get a screenshot of my computer?

Mario 🤝 Mario Buddy from the last episode → destroying PCs for the LOLs

AKLDHLKSAFB;KL just the way Mario goes for a fighting stance just so he could run away will never not be funny to me

LET ME IN LET ME INNNNNNNNN

10 hours, welp I got my wish lmao

Mario morphing his face... hmmmm..... [*flashback noises*]

[SMG4: MAR10 Day]

....

don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it

KIRBO NOOOOOOOOO

NO NO NO SWAG NO

same vibes

meme factory? youtube arc? is that you? /j

(yeah I know that the Team uses the same assets ik)

LET'S DO THISSSS oh welp time to vibe

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

what would that be, Swag? Try not to Laugh challenge? I might win tbh

LET'S GO GAMBLING

laughing because of early victory call? very in character for Swag

oooh that's some good animation (y'know, as always)

HOLD UP WAIT A MINUTE

am i thinking too much into this or is this the same military base from last episode?

Alright, my little headcanon: the events of this episode and the last one took place on the exact same day

that's just for me specifically

oh hey, more TADC ref

Also, nice PINGAS STUCK IN A DOOR ref

man Mario can't catch a break dude

Congrats to CMorseu for your art being featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Such a good episode! Not plot-heavy, just a silly episode. I'll gladly take it as my late birthday present. And it's great to have Swag back, kinda was half-expecting Chris to just pop out.

I've said this once and I'll say it again: I wouldn't mind if the rest of the year is just filled with goofy episodes. After all, we just came from WOTFI and we do need a bit of a break so the Team could work on the next arc. (From the looks of things, we might get goop!4 *cough cough*)

Loved the bits of animation and Mario's expressions as always.

Now, I know there is some talk about the SMG4 Crew/Mario Does Things being on hiatus and merging with the Saturday videos. If you can even call it that. Personally, I don't mind it. I completely understand if doing 2 episodes per week is a lot for the Team to handle, though I do wish they would give an explanation for it. I think the best solution would be for the Team making an announcement of the change, the reasons behind it, and how it may be different from the regular Saturday episodes. Also make it clear that "hey, the title says this so it doesn't impact the main storyline".

Anyway, it has been overall a pretty funny episode and I quite enjoyed it! Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna cry my eyes out watching the rest of Arcane Act 3 and bring that angst to the next episode concept :)

OH THE MISERY EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE MY ENEMYYYYYYY

[joonlover1207]

stubble ~ knj // drabble.

pairing : husband!knj × wife!reader

genre : established relationship, fluff, kisses, short case enthusiast, teeth sickening fluff and stubble duh....

summary : reader is obsessed with her husband aka kim namjoon. everything about him makes her swoon over him, especially his new look that includes his fit, bulky body and oh his delicious yummy stubble!

a/n : hiee lovies! ana this side 🥰 I am so sorry if I have made any mistakes, as some of you might know or not this is my first time writing! I am actually so nervous and so excited at the same time hehe. anyways stubble with namjoon is soooo addictive I can't stop thinking about him ughhhh. I hope whatever little imaginary drabble I wrote does justice and gives his stubble a lot of love lol. Spare me for any mistakes and reblog ?!

admiring my husband from afar, absorbing his new look, long hair, buffed body, thunder thighs, cute dimples and yes that fcking stubble... not a full beard but something...

just....

enough.

he's always so handsome, I feel really lucky that I've got him wrapped around my little finger and I get to call him my man.

imagining all of these things got me smiling like a fool making him notice and come my way, giving me that million dollar smile with those adorable dimples.

wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me closer to his body, lifting my chin with his fingers and asking me

"what's going inside your cute little brain?"

looking in his eyes I said "nothing, just this new look suits you. you look quite handsome."

him giggling at that sentence makes him even more cuter which makes my heart do a flip.

placing my hands on his cheeks but wincing and pulling away "oh owwww"

he takes my hand in his for inspection and asks "what's wrong my baby?"

pouting my lips I said " it's your stubble, it's prickly" making a sad face.

"oh really? thought you liked my new look?!" his smirk fully evident

"hey! don't twist my words, I love your look it's just.... how am I supposed to kiss you without it hurting?" I asked in a low voice

"guess it will have to go then, can't live without your kisses" touching his stubble and smiling softly down at me

"or you could give me a demo?" looking up in his eyes, batting my eyelashes at him

"but you said it's gonna hurt?" he says confused.

yeah for a person with 148 iq, he sure was dumb. but he was my dumb baby.

grabbing his chin between my fingers and sealing my lips to his " oh come here you big idiot"

as we kissed in a promise of forever.

[r0-boat]

Why do I feel like Ingo would have a praise kink, even if he might not admit it? Call him a good boy or say he's so handsome, he'll be putty in your hands. Tell him how good he feels inside you, or how hot he looks underneath you, and he'll become determined to make you feel even better than he does

👀 I see you, That's so big brain I'm not sure how I haven't thought of that before I'm going to rotate this in my head

Praise kink!Ingo Hcs

Praise Kink! Ingo, who cannot handle your praisel, but simultaneously is so desperate for it. He's making you feel so good; all he wants is for you to tell him how good he's doing. He wants to hear more than just your squeals and moans. He wants that drooling kissed bruised mouth to tremble out broken sentences of how good he feels deep inside you.

Praise Kink!Ingo Who will respond back with praise of his own. He can't help himself, moaning about how much he thinks about you, commenting on everything you're doing to his him. This is about the only time Ingo fully voices his possessiveness. The possessive thoughts that he only keeps to himself. Ingo is not only extremely vocal when it comes to moaning or groaning, He also cannot stop trying to praise you Even though most the time his sentences are broken with moans and whimpers he still tries so hard to make sure you hear nothing but praise.

Praise Kink!Ingo bucking his hips faster as soon as your shaky words fall from your lips."So big! Filling me up!" You squeal, and he's already about to cum; his eyes roll back as every last bit of control slips through his fingers, pounding your cunt with reckless abandon. Your praise alone brings him to orgasm and makes him beg for more.

Praise Kink!Ingo is obsessed when you tell him how much you love him and pamper him, all the while your hand strokes his cock up and down. You can see the hearts in his eyes when you go in for a kiss, fingers threading through his hair in one hand, and the other is meeting his hips with every buck. He's a busy man and it's nice to come home with a partner that could melt your stress away and use your mouth to not only Tell him how handsome he is and how good he makes you feel but also pamper him in 'other ways'

Praise Kink!Ingo is like a puppy, He would do anything just for you too praise him in bed. He has learned your body already now it's time to learn about other things that make you come. Whether it be kinks or new positions.

Praise Kink!Ingo to enjoys eating you/sucking you because he not only gets to taste you. But he pleasures you and he gets to feel your fingers in his hair in your hand on his face. He gets such an ego boost when you tell him how good his tongue is.

Praise Kink!Ingo Dom phrases:

“You’re a pleasure to use.”

“I love the way you look when you’re on your knees”

"So good for me, and all for me."

Can't stop thinking about you... You ruined me."

"You're so hot, how did I get someone like you?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

"I can't keep my hands to myself, You're too irresistible"

"oh~! Hah! So good... Feels so good..."

"Don't wanna stop! So addictive!"

"Pure-oh fuck-! temptation incarnate...!Cumming!"

"So glad you're mine..."

[rodanseys]

ok i finished my yearly reread of trc and i must say something!!! it is likely someone already said on the internet far before me, but i must say it!!!!

and that thing is how trb and trk mirror one another because of the inversion of adam and gansey's function within the narrative.

obviously, in trb, we see adam sacrifice himself to cabeswater. it is a huge risk, yes, but it's true to adam's character because he's willing to do what gansey isn't because he thinks choosing anything other than listening to gansey is freedom. as a result, he's the leader of the group for most of the series. the first thing gansey does when interacting with adam is ask adam a qeustion. adam is consantly called on over the course of the series to find an alternative solution when gansey can't- he even mentions that in his own monologing (i think in bllb). the gray man refers to the gangsey, as we all know, as "adam parrish and his band of merry men." in other words, he is the king, driven by duty, both that he cannot choose bc of his upbringing and that he chooses bc he can't understand what true freedom yet.

meanwhile, we see development of gansey as the poet. he's the heart of the quest, the person who believes in it to make others believe. this is especially true in trk, where its repeatedly pointed out that gansey can say things in his Gansey voice and making them true. this not only reinforces his place as the poet, but his own (and other characters') awareness of it.

so there's been established and really, really hammered-over delegation of adam as the king and gansey as the poet. then, in trk, we have the scene where adam is being taken over by the demon that's also taking over cabeswater. at the end of that chapter, he is able to regain control over the demon and separate it from cabeswater simply by saying his eyes and hands belong to him again- like gansey would. liek a poet would! his necesity to do this within the plot, the obviousness of him doing this as a chracter (he never wanted to be controlled, just gansey's equal, but he couldn't realize the difference yet) also means that he has moved into the role of the poet (and what could be more of gansey's equal than him becoming who gansey was within the plot?). this leaves the king role, as a narrative function, finally open for gansey to fill.

and it works because we've already seen gansey becoming increasingly anxious throughout trk. he's feeling this sense of power start to shatter, the fear of a life after glendower. but he knows he must finish what he started. how is this shown in the text? when he leaves in the middle of the night to find glendower- a literal repetition of adam leaving alone to sacrifice himself on the line. but, this time, gansey is the one to initiate. he's finally on his way to becoming a king, figuratively and literally. but then, we realize geldower is dead. and this is where this mirroring becomes so rich and fascinating to me.

but why? because gansey, after discovering glendower is dead, also discovers something contradictory to the way this story must go: "glendower was dead. gansey kind of wanted to live." the moment after he realizes it, he becomes so afraid of receiving pity because of his selfishness to live outside the bounds of responsibility thrust upon him. he never had that before. no one stopped him from searching for glendower, from being obsessed. he had the time, money, resources, and charm (unlike adam) to pull off this really kind of ridiculous activity. but, now, he finally uderstands what it meant to sacrifice and it brings up a vulnerability he doesn't know what to do with.

and guess who else dealt with reponsibilites thrust upon them that they didn't know what to do with? who was afraid of being pitied instead of respected as a response? adam! gansey's becoming more like adam. like the king! and the narrative literally acknowledges this: "for the first time, gansey understood adam parrish perfectly."

so, of course, like adam, he must sacrifice something to achieve the actual power of the king in the narrative. so he does. he kisses blue and sacrifices his life. and how is it written? "he fell from her arms. he was a king." he was a king!!!! he was actually a king!!! because, like glendower, he was dead. he couldn't be glendower (which is all he wanted to be- brave, respected, loved, remembered) without dying. because glendower died! and gansey wanted to live! but he couldn't. because he couldn't be who he wanted to be without also taking on the responsibility of what it meant to be that person. he never reallt understood this; adam always did.

i really appreciate this inversion because it gives precedence to their friendship on the plot level: both of them had to meet, to get to know each other, to fight for the plot to start. but then, they had to understand each other, to work hard to love each other, and actually end up on the inverted of the narrative in order to become who they needed to be for the plot to conclude. and it also reinforces another large theme of the series: time as something cyclical. gansey living adam's younger years while adam lives gansey's. that this was required for them to know and love each other fully and for gansey to come back to life and not "throw it away."

[marauders-bs]

i swear this one was originally a microfic and then it wasn't. putting a cut because it's long af

@myvaginacalledmehomo-blog this is... similar? the thing you commented under was a fic but i figured i'd tag you anyways since this one is longer

@aletharaej THANK YOU FOR BETAING THIS YOURE MY FAVORITE

i would tag my lovely partner for getting me through this by bringing me cheese but. oh well sorry lei

Luna twisted a ring on her finger. "You're sure this will work, are you?"

"It worked for me and Ron, so, yeah, I think so," Harry said, pulling out the Stone. It had shown him his mother and father and Sirius and Remus, and Harry was curious who it would show Luna.

As she turned it over in her fingers, figures began to pop up. First, a boy and a girl who looked similar to Luna, one with blonde braids and the other with cornrows. Next was a smirking dyed blonde with eyeliner. Close behind her was a tall woman Harry recognized from the papers as Dorcas Meadowes. Soon after appeared a taller boy not much older than Luna or Harry who looked rather like Sirius, and then Remus.

"Luna," said the girl with blonde braids. She was clearly Pandora Lovegood, Luna's mom.

"Mum," Luna said, then turned her head to each spirit in turn. "Uncle Evan. Aunt Lennie, Aunt Cassie. Uncle Reg. Uncle Remus."

"You're tall now, Luna-girl," the dyed blonde Luna had addressed as Aunt Lennie said. "Last I saw you, you weren't much bigger than a bottle of soap."

"Yeah, she's got the Black eyes, too," the boy who was clearly Regulus Black said, smiling softly. "I guess I didn't live long enough to see that. We match."

Luna smiled back at him. Knowing when Regulus died, Harry knew that they wouldn't have met. Harry wondered why he had appeared. By all accounts, he shouldn't have.

"You've got the right idea, Luna," Remus said suddenly. "You might try that. We've got some lovebirds here who need to catch up."

"What, like you?" Luna's Aunt Lennie said teasingly, poking a ghostly finger into his arm.

Luna laughed softly as the spirits began to bicker good-naturedly, and she passed the Stone to Harry.

He took it, a bit confused, and his father appeared, then Lily, then Sirius.

"The fuck?" Sirius said, looking around. "Reg, what are you doing here?"

"I brought him," Luna said. "I wanted to meet him."

Harry took a look around and found the way the spirits were standing- odd. His father was standing next to Regulus. His mum was standing next to Luna's. Remus and Sirius were standing together, closer than he'd ever seen them in life.

"Haz," James said, eyebrows knitting together, "Do you not know?"

"I don't think Luna does either," Dorcas said, smirking sideways at the dyed blonde next to her.

"Stop being horny for Marlene, Cassie, you're dead," Regulus said.

"Know what?" Harry asked, trying to direct the conversation.

Sirius's only response was to hold up his left had. A sparkling ring was on it, gold amidst all of his silver. Remus held up his hand as well to show the same ring.

"The fuck?" James shrieked, flying to tackle the two. "You got engaged and didn't tell me?"

"Well, yeah, Prongs, it happened the night before you died," Sirius replied, voice muffled.

"Us, too," Luna's mum said quietly, holding up her and Harry's mum's joined hands.

Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to process what Pandora had just said.

"Dora, you can't just drop that on them, they'll freak," said the boy with cornrows. "Also, where's Barty?"

"Barty Crouch Jr?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"He's the love of my life and he held me while I died, duh," said the man who had to be Evan Rosier.

Luna's shoulders slumped. "He impersonated Alastor Moody for nine months and kept him in a box, attempted to have Harry killed by Voldemort, and was given the Dementor's Kiss."

There was a noticable posture change for all of them. Dorcas, James, and Regulus slouched a little, but Evan brightened. "Petty motherfucker."

"Topic at hand, Ev," Pandora said.

Lily grinned at Harry's dumbfounded look. "Yup, Haz. I was a surrogate for these two fucking idiots because Reg wanted a kid and James will do anything for him, at all, ever."

"Rude," James said, arms crossed playfully.

"True," Regulus countered, sharing a grin with Remus.

Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening anymore, but he knew one thing for sure: these were people he really should've grown up with.

[vivievienne]

Your fears don't help your worries — Chapter 4

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which we will see the one thing that The Rebeliants and The Government share.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so... lemme introduce you to honami and saki!!! yupi!!! i didn't know what to write in this chapter, but it's not that bad ig, though, i didnt look over this so i may have done some mistakes

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: might be ooc, implied of insomnia?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 540

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

It was quite scary for him.

He could not even close his eyes. Everytime he does, he suddenly gets paranoid and hears noises. 

But as he thought about it, it was rather hilarious than scary. Like he works all day, and yet, he can’t even close his eyes in his own bed. And his work is basically providing people a good sleep.

This is what he does as a Leader, right?

But is this right?

Is this enough to keep the safety of the City?

Maybe he’s wrong… 

Maybe he should just throw it all away…

But he wants to protect this beautiful smile forever…

                                         ***

“Nene, I don’t know what we should do…”, Mizuki sighed. They were sitting on the desk in Nene’s office. Nene couldn’t. All she was doing was making circles around the room. She couldn’t help it. 

After Ena confirmed that the man who called the headquarters was Rui, they were in shock. What can they do now?

“Neither do I”, she huffed. Why couldn't he tell them what he’s going to do there instead of going there by himself without any announcement? Why was he so stubborn? “At least, we know that he’s fine… for now. Still, I can’t help, but worry about him.”

“There must be something we can do, right?”

“No… The only thing that we can do right now, is patiently waiting for him to come back and praying he's safe.”

                                         ***

“Hona?” Saki said while they were walking for the weekly tests. This was something Saki was used to. Not like she’s complaining, but Tsukasa should worry a little bit less than he does! She’s not his little vulnerable sister anymore! She’s on her best days! She knows it’s necessary, but it could be monthly at least…

“Something’s wrong, Saki?”, she asked. She was quite surprised. She knew that Saki is a very talkative person, though she doesn’t talk before tests very often, which was worrying her. Maybe she was feeling unwell? Oh no… What if she is!?

“No! I’m just thinking… Should I ask Tsukasa is it okay to change the frequency of my tests? You know… It’s stupid to control it every week if I don’t feel unwell, right?”, she said with a cheerful voice.

“Oh… That…”, Honami got confused. This was something she wasn’t expecting to hear… “I suppose that is not that bad to ask”, she smiled.

“But I’m worried about him…”, Saki confessed with a hint of sadness. “He works a lot lately. He doesn’t want to bury me with his problems, but I can see he comes back very late recently. However, he’s still smiling, but this is not the smile I knew.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it? Saki, he rules here… He has a lot on his head. The Rebeliants became very aggressive lately and maybe that’s why he struggles? Please, don’t think too much about this. He will be okay, right?” Honami smiled though she knew that Saki was right… However, she believed that these attacks are just for some period of time and after that, Rebels will slow down… for a while…

“Maybe you’re right… But still, why can't he just talk with them and make a compromise?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons…”

taglist: @your-dazzling-sun, @minakolada, @tsukasa-memes, @chocowhimsy-wonderhoyy, @lyns-art-estate

[aprillikesthings]

So I took a little bigger bite of gummy than usual and THEN Daci insisted we watch like a half hour of tiktoks together that they'd saved (lol 90% of them were Arcane jokes, including King Princess repeatedly being a troll) so by the time I got in the shower I was already feeling it. So if my typing or sentences get weird or bad you know why

This is one of those episodes I've literally only watched twice tbh

oh hey it's my tumblr background (on desktop)

I forget why they were sleeping outside lol it doesn't matter

But Glimmer's right the person who snores loudest is always the one to fall asleep first

okay so when Adora first sees the sword and tells Catra she's like "are you brain damaged???" Adora tells Glimmer "I thought I saw something" and Glimmer's like "pssht whatever" can people stop dismissing Adora seeing shit lol (edit: foreshadowing. right.)

oh right Im watching this for Castaspella in my 60's fic lol

"I've never relaxed in my life" lol we know

I know she's not the focus of this episode I'm just happy to see her heyyyy bb

(also has anyone watched bits of this show so many times they can pick out the styles of specific storyboarders/animators? not that I know their names, but like "whomever did this scene did this other scene." anyway whomever did a few random bits of this episode worked on parts of Moment of Truth)

ALSO ahahah I caught the moment she reacts to Adora's name

...I need to learn how to edit vids, I still want to make one of every time one of them reacts to the other's name/voice, bc once you notice that they do it every time, you can't UNnotice

Catra: ugggh another Adora mission, fine, when do I leave? (like girl you are acting so reluctant but ahahah)

Shadow Weaver: Nope, I'm gonna do it myself. Clearly, no one else can be trusted to bring her back to the Horde, least of all you!

Man SW realllllly loves to rub into Catra's face that her attempts at getting Adora back haven't worked, that's gotta sting

SW's voice actor was so good

SW: creates a terrifying monster

Catra:

is terrified

writing her as a hippie/shop owner who is also a bit new-agey and ALSO, a wine aunt, is gonna be so funny and fun okay

"Oh, Light Spinner, she's just a scary tale for children" I mean....she does...scare children...

Adora has ADHD. Also Aimee had fun recording this I bet lol

Bow: sounds like this Shadow Weaver really did a number on you growing up

Anyone else reminded of the first time they told a story from their childhood and the other person reacted with horror? anyway

lol I remembered that SW pretended to be other people and taunted Adora in Catra's voice but I didn't remember when so I still fucking JUMPED when she did the "Hey, Adora"

TBH this episode's plot is half "so SW is an abusive piece of shit, and Adora and her friends are starting to realize this"

Gahhh the bit of SW talking with Catra's voice and saying "SW controls us both, she always has" is so fucking creepy. Bc she's acknowledging she's, well, controlling.

oh hey did you know that Hordak's voice actor also did Kino (Mel's brother) in Arcane

SW pretending to be Glimmer and Bow and being a huge asshole to Adora is hard to watch ahhh

The only thing worse is watching her do the extremely typical abuser speech, but ...the kind a partner usually gives, not a parent! "they don't understand you, only I do, your friends don't really like you, they're just using you, you can only trust me"

gyahhhhh

y'know....I just realized. She knew Catra and Adora were close. She blames Catra to some extent for Adora leaving. She has Catra try to get her back multiple times and fail.

Which means at this point she thinks their friendship was entirely one-sided. Like, she could've used Catra's voice to beg her to come home, and she didn't.

I hope for every abused kid to have this moment

"this is what SW does. She manipulates people, she pushes them apart." yeah

lol I couldn't get one where she wasn't making a weird face bc she's talking but eheheh

"If you want to take down Adora, you have to go for the heart." She's looking at Bow through that spying bowl but....CATRA. she misses YOU. she cares about them but she also cares about you :(

also THE HEART YOU SAY???? (was this intentional foreshadowing)

the next episode is Princess Prom, but I'm not watching that one tonight

As it is. I know social media is a minefield atm. Anyone who started watching the last three eps of Arcane the moment it dropped is done.

What's funny is that I intentionally spoiled myself for the last season of She-Ra because I knew I wouldn't be able to watch it for a few DAYS

but Arcane we're watching tomorrow, and I want to know SO BAD whether or not they fuck, but I want to find out when Daci does, via watching it!!!

So don't tell me anything.

Can’t wait to engage in one of my fave midnight hobbies: get high as balls and rewatch bits of She-Ra and sometimes post screenshots with overemotional/horny captions

[hyacinthi-mortem]

THIS VIDEO. WHEN HE SINGS ONE NIGHT STAND. I HAVE ASCENDED. THIS AND HIM SINGING LIFE ON MARS COULD BRING ME FROM THE GRAVE. FUCK NECROMANCERS, WHO NEEDS EM WHEN YOU HAVE THE ANGELIC VOICE OF PATRICK FUCKING STUMP

[the-diary-of-a-moody-teenager]

When Odysseus takes "trade the world to see my son and wife ..." to a very literal level in Thunder Bringer , because he is JUST A MAN ....