sabrina

i don't use this very often but you can follow my insta @idksabrina

[tootiredtobekind]

[handsomehelmet]

Me during the entirety of Dune 2:

[terry-perry]

44 from the Little One prompt list with the Moon Knights boys please 🥺

Choosing little one’s name together.

“So, we’re having a girl,” you said.

You just came back from your latest doctor appointment. All things were good, baby was healthy. And you also found out you were having a daughter.

“You called it,” Steven said, mumbling into your stomach.

 Out of all the three, he was the one who loved resting against it the most. The other two may find any excuse to have their hands on it, but Steven was the one who had no shame. And now that your baby bump was becoming more prominent, he loved it even more. Anytime he was around you, his hands would find their way to it. If not his hands, then his head. At least his lips.  

“I’m happy,” you said, caressing his hair as he kept his head on you. “You guys came up with a lot of cute girl names.”

Since the start of your pregnancy, the boys would text you different names for the baby. It basically become part of your routine to expect a text with a name suggestion. You could tell right away who would be coming up with something based on the choices.

Steven would come up with names that were fancier and/or from literature like Charlotte, Theodore, Emily, Darcy.

Marc liked simpler names that had one or two syllables like James, Amy, Eric, John.

Jake gravitated towards ones that sounded nice in both English and Spanish like Emma, Oscar, Felix, Anna.

“Well, we agreed you’d have the final say, love,” Steven said, now mindlessly tracing shapes along your belly. “Any of them stand out for you?”

“I really like Marceline,” you said. “It sounds pretty. That’s also the name of that poet you really like, right?”

“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore, yes,” he clarified. “The French translation for it also translates to ‘little warrior.’”

“Definitely appropriate for our daughter. It also sounds like the female version of Marc, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it does,” he peered down to talk directly to your unborn child. “Marceline it is then?”

He felt a small kick just then, getting the both of you to gasp and laugh in disbelief.

“Marceline it is then,” you confirmed. “And what about a middle name?”

“Well, the three of us really liked one name. Mostly because of its meaning behind it.”

“Oh?” You tried your best to remember which one all three of them suggested.

“Abigail,” Steven answered, smiling more fondly than ever. “In Hebrew, it means ‘father’s joy.’”

Hearing that brought out your own elated smile. “It’s perfect,”

So, it was settled.

Five more months, and you’d be welcoming your little warrior that was your father’s joy.

[ruegoreos-deactivated20260504]

i think i can speak for the entire OI fandom when i say

[virtie333]

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

[ruegoreos-deactivated20260504]

[femmeidiot]

me when I lie

[nobledemons]

Sinners babies ! 🥺

A collection of charms and prints I'm working on! I'll have these on my shop today! Planning on adding a few more characters in the future!

[hupperts]

[gael-garcia]

Oscar Isaac + dancing

[gloriousdefeat]

the white patch of hair on top of oscar isaac’s head

reblog if you agree

[nowritingonthewall]

Oscar Isaac being a cutie behind the scenes of Frankenstein (2005)

[mcrdvcks]

this stemmed from seeing a picture of sebastian stan wearing a rubber band on his wrist to clark wearing your pink scrunchie. so, enjoy!

warnings/tags: fluff!, clark is down bad, implied that reader uses a scrunchie, fem!reader, no use of y/n, one small reference to superman (2025)

It’s early. The kind of morning where sunlight pours through the windows in soft, sleepy sheets, warming the hardwood and painting golden stripes across the bed.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the comforter, hair a mess, one sock on and the other lost to the blanket void. Clark’s standing by the dresser, half-dressed in his usual button-up and slacks, glasses sliding slightly down his nose.

He’s in the middle of telling you something about Perry—probably a printer malfunction or Jimmy’s latest chaos—but your eyes catch on his forearm. Specifically, his wrist. “Wait,” you say, squinting, “is that my scrunchie?”

Clark pauses mid-story and looks down at it, blinking. “Oh—uh. Yeah.” He lifts his arm and turns it like he only just noticed it was there. The soft, worn-out scrunchie—light pink with tiny embroidered stars—looks hilariously out of place against his large wrist and pressed shirt sleeve.

“You left it on the bathroom counter,” he explains with an awkward shrug, cheeks already beginning to flush. “I didn’t want it to get wet when I cleaned up the sink, so I just… put it on. Then I forgot to take it off.”

You raise an eyebrow, lips curling. “You forgot? Or you liked it?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck with his other hand—making the scrunchie shift and slide down a bit. “It reminds me of you,” he admits finally, voice soft, sincere. “And it smells like your shampoo.”

Your heart melts like butter in a skillet.

You crawl to the edge of the bed and reach for him, fingers gently adjusting the scrunchie so it sits comfortably above his wrist bone. It looks completely ridiculous. But also… kind of cute. Like a secret between you and him that no one else would understand.

“Well,” you say, resting your chin on his arm and looking up at him with a grin, “now you have to wear it all day.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Deal.”

Later that afternoon, Lois storms into the bullpen, mid-rant about a lead going cold, before stopping short at the sight of Clark. She stares at his wrist. “Is that… a pink scrunchie?”

Jimmy rolls his chair over to Clark’s desk quickly. “Wait, what?”

Clark, mid-typing, pauses. His jaw shifts slightly like he’s contemplating whether to play dumb or own it. He glances down at the scrunchie—still proudly circling his wrist—and then back up with a slow, deliberate nod. “It’s hers,” he says simply, as if that explains everything.

Lois squints. “Hers who?”

“You know,” Clark says, adjusting his glasses. “Hers.”

Jimmy squints at the scrunchie like it’s a live wire. “So you’re just… wearing it?”

Clark leans back in his chair, completely unfazed now. “It’s soft. And practical. Keeps my sleeves up when I type.”

Lois blinks. “It’s pink.”

Clark glances at it again and shrugs. “So’s love.”

Jimmy lets out a sharp wheeze-laugh and smacks his palm to his chest. “That’s it. I’m writing that down. ‘So’s love.’ Pulitzer-worthy, Kent.”

Lois glares. “If you start a rom-com blog, I’m quitting.”

But Clark just smiles quietly to himself, fingers returning to the keys with soft, purposeful rhythm.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but every time the scrunchie shifts against his skin, it reminds him of that morning—of sunlight on tangled sheets, your sleepy smile, and the way you looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky.

So yeah.

It’s pink. It’s ridiculous. And it’s his favorite part of today.

---

You had gotten back from work an hour ago and were currently on your couch, letting the TV run the evening news in the background while you scrolled through your phone—half-reading texts, half-tuning in to the soothing monotone of the anchor’s voice.

Until you heard it.

“Superman was seen this afternoon assisting with a bridge collapse in Metropolis—thankfully, no casualties reported. But what caught people’s attention wasn’t just his heroics…”

Your thumb paused mid-scroll. Your head tilted.

“...was the pink scrunchie around his wrist.”

Your eyes shot up to the screen just in time to see a still image of him—hovering midair in the classic red-and-blue suit, holding up a steel beam with one arm... and on his wrist, unmistakable even against the bold colors of the suit, was your scrunchie.

The light pink one. The one with the tiny embroidered stars. The one you’d teased him about this morning. The one he’d promised to wear all day.

You blinked.

The camera cut to bystander footage—a grainy phone video zoomed in on him lifting debris. The person behind the camera was giggling.

“Yo, Superman’s wearing a scrunchie. That’s adorable.”

Your phone buzzed.

Lois: You win. Whatever game you’re playing, you win.

Jimmy: I have never seen Perry laugh that hard.

You snorted and tucked your phone under your thigh just as the apartment door opened with a soft click. A gust of wind, then the warm scent of him—sunlight, clean air, and the faintest trace of charred metal.

“Hi, honey,” Clark called out casually, like he hadn’t just been broadcast in high definition across the city wearing a girl’s hair accessory.

You turned on the couch to face him, arms crossed—but your smile already betraying you. “So… the scrunchie.”

Clark’s cheeks flushed a deep pink that nearly matched the scrunchie as he closed the door behind him. “In my defense,” he said, holding up both hands, “you told me I had to wear it all day. You didn’t say only at the office.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Superman wore it.”

He scratched the back of his neck, gaze sheepish. “Technically, it was still the same day.”

You arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Clark. You wore it in space.”

He walked over to you, stopping in front of the couch, the fabric of his civilian clothes soft and slightly rumpled now. “I saved people and promoted stylish accessories. That’s called multitasking.”

You snorted a laugh and leaned back, still trying to look unimpressed. “Do you know how many people zoomed in and posted screenshots? You’re trending under #SuperScrunchie.”

Clark gave you a lopsided smile and held out his wrist like it was a medal of honor. “Good. Better than #SuperShit.”

[hockeydiva]

my collection

[oddballwriter]

You know what? Fuck you. *transmascs all your Oscar Isaac characters*

Nathan still gets really bad cramps even though he’s well into his transition and HRT.

Also, even though the moon boys got top surgery ages ago and the scar is long gone, Steven still gets a bit of chest dysphoria and that’s why most of his clothes tend to be loose.

And Anselm has destroyed every record that he was AFAB and replaced them with the new records that record him as AMAB because he has the money and influence to do that and because he felt like it. He has also shot several transphobes personally both because they said something or simply because he was bored.

Meanwhile Poe needs to be told to take a binding break all the time because he either forgets to or he’s being stubborn and refuses to do so.

[oddballwriter]

You guys are free to add your own btw, I’m not gonna stop you

Also for some reason I’ve been thinking about the image of Nathan sitting on his couch with a heating pad on mad as fuck.

[soulreader05]

So when was somebody gonna tell me that Nathan Bateman’s actual middle name is actually Hamlet?

HAMLET?!

[oddballwriter]

Yo fic where reader gets mad at him for something and calls him by his full name.

Nathan Hamlet Bateman

What a dork

[oddballwriter]

It would just be such a power move I feel

“Nathaniel Hamlet Bateman”

[cupcakeinat0r]

[distroyer0g]

Drawing Spider-Man everyday until Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse is released. Day 865.

[softlyspencer]

Every time I have to read "his MASSIVE clothes DWARFED your positively DIMINUTIVE frame" another piece of my fat lil soul shrivels up and dies lmao