#Two of my hyperfixations in one. God bless.

[longstoryshqrt]

how do people do it without hyperfixating over things? how does it feel to be gods favorite

[clownprince]

Mfw I have my heart set on addressing Joker's aspd in this fic but the entire field of psychology is so horrifically ableist against cluster b personality disorders there are next to no resources on what aspd recovery looks like because the general consensus is that it isn't possible

[elles-home]

just realised i’m consuming one piece at four different ways these days

1. rewatching wano arc (currently act ii. big mom washed up on kuri beach)

2. current manga releases (end of egghead)

3. current anime releases (beginning of egghead)

4. manga read from the beginning (this is the slowest going. only finished three chapters so far)

[neo-shitty]

🦷.

[arelliann]

Wiggly Wednesday 🪱🧠

Tagged by the lovely @just-my-latest-hyperfixation <3 one of these days I’ll manage to actually post on a Wednesday, but until then

I am forever thinking about...

Golden retriever Steve.

Actual golden retriever Steve. Who Eddie finds curled up and shivering by the side of the road one night, and he's always had a weakness for an underdog. So he corrals the largest, fluffiest dog he's ever seen - it's probably not a wolf, dear god please say it's not a wolf - into the back of his van, blasts the heating, and disregards every traffic law on the way back to the trailer.

It takes a little bacon, and a lot of blankets, but the dog - who Eddie promptly names 'Ozzy' - gets comfortable pretty quickly. He's not a wolf either it turns out. Or if he is, he's the sappiest, friendliest, most well trained wolf in Indiana. In no time at all he's splayed across Eddie's chest, tail wagging enthusiastically as Eddie scratches between his ears.

Wayne gets home to find the two of them tucked under a blanket fort and just rolls his eyes, warning that this had better not be a repeat of 'that damned racoon incident'. So Eddie takes that as his blessing.

Ozzy spends the next week glued to Eddie's side.

He's an excellent guard dog. When a jock gets too big for his boots at a drug deal - and Eddie's about 30 seconds and one more snide comment away from a broken bone - Ozzy jumps forward, teeth bared and growling menacingly. He gets extra bacon and belly rubs that night.

He's also weirdly good at housework? Running off to get a towel every time he knocks over a drink with his overexcited tail. Which is often. And despite Wayne's insistence that it's just the weed talking, Eddie swears he caught Ozzy dusting one time.

There are downsides of course. Despite Eddie's constant complaints, Ozzy loves sports. Catch, fetch, chasing his own tail, and playing with the young kids at the trailer park. He even likes to settle onto the sofa in the afternoon and watch baseball games with Wayne.

Nevertheless, by the end of the week Eddie is spending every morning, evening, and night curled up in bed with his own personal space heater.

And then he wakes up one morning, and a very warm, very naked Steve Harrington is lying on top of him.

No pressure tags for @blipblot @sourw0lfs @sidekick-hero and @penny00dreadful

[diamjem]

blame the champagne

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!mc

summary: sebastian sallow attends his ex’s engagement party and he is fine.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: angst, alcohol abuse (sort of), marriage is a prison, 19th century high-society, no y/n, sebastian ruins everything he touches

a/n: first fic i’ve ever posted on tumblr pls be kind im jus a girl (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ANYWAYS i wrote this while listening to exile by ts over and over and over again so maybe give that a lil listen while you read if u wanna set the mood. can you tell by the end i was just excited to get it done with lols. also this is really far from my usual writing style (i mainly post on wattpad ik boooo) but here ya go. im well aware of how all of u eat up angst like it’s a happy meal YES THERE WILL BE A PART TWO. if the hyperfixation persists this might even be a longer series BUT god knows how many wips i already have pls have mercy on my poor soul

[ao3] [wattpad]

it was a nice party.

no, really. it was.

sure, there were some things sebastian could’ve done without—the awkwardly stiff ballroom, for one, with its velvet curtains that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe—but on the whole, he couldn’t deny credit where it was due.

the music was stimulating enough to have ballgowns spinning around endlessly on the dancefloor. food, exquisite; hors d'oeuvres that looked more like art than appetizers, but delicious nonetheless. and the decor? a tad too extravagant, maybe, with gold ribbons draped from every chandelier, catching the candlelight in a way that felt more like a royal procession than a social gathering. but who was he to judge? he was certainly drinking enough to blur any such distinctions, and there was more than enough champagne.

so, yeah, it was a really nice party.

well, save for the fact that it’s his ex’s engagement party to some guy from a prestigious pureblood family or whatever. sebastian still couldn't quite remember his name, though he’s pretty sure it starts with the letter h. he read the invitation, the fine lettering that seemed too fancy for its own good, but the moment he’d seen “engagement” paired with her name, his brain had short-circuited. he didn't need nor want the details. it was enough to know that she was moving on—and he, apparently, was not. but that's fine. he’s fine.

sebastian would have preferred to avoid the entire affair, but anne had insisted—no, berated him—into attending. "just be grateful she even thought to invite you to such a special day." she'd demanded.

ominis, bless him, had tried his best to offer some well-meaning, clumsy attempt to soften the blow, but when all was said and done, suggested sebastian defer to anne. there was no doubt (maybe a little) ominis was his best friend but he was also anne’s husband now. and a wife’s word, especially in the sallow family, was the law. infuriating, as if they haven't ganged up on him enough their whole lives.

speaking of those two, where the hell are they? sebastian was already this close to hexing them for dragging him here in the first place—much less leaving him alone in a crowd of polished, tight-lipped strangers. not that he hadn’t been to his fair share of these high-society events. as an established wizard, a decorated auror, top of his division no less, he had his place at these things, his duty even. in fact, somewhere deep down, part of him even liked the glitz and glamour. it was the sort of thing that would make most people feel important, like they were part of something larger, something better.

but this? this wasn’t his crowd at all. not when he had to stand there, watching the one that got away and her decorated hand clutch her husband-to-be’s arm. the sight of it churned something deep in his gut, like a bitter knot that wouldn’t untangle.

alright, maybe it’s time to admit it.

it was not a nice party at all.

the music? too stiff. too classic. she usually liked it loud and roaring. she used to love a ceilidh, for merlin’s sake. the food? too tiny. he could practically see her at the table, scarfing down a full plate before reaching for seconds, her stomach always growing faster than her appetite. the decorations? too gaudy. too excessive. then again, she never had a good eye for interior decor—at least, not according to the proper standards. her idea of decoration had been finding old furniture abandoned in the highlands and somehow hauling it back to their (now just his) flat in london.

salazar, this whole party is wrong. she never even cared for this kind of thing. she would always roll her eyes when he dragged her to some work event, muttering something about she’d much rather be laughing over a pint in the pub with him.

but it wasn’t just the party, was it? not the music or the food or the decorations. it was the fact that none of this felt like her anymore. it felt like she had become something else. something he wasn’t a part of.

sebastian watched her over the rim of his glass as he took a long swig of his drink.

now, the party may be no good, but the champagne? that's another thing. it was crisp, sharp, and cold, slipping down his throat with a tingle that almost made him forget where he was and who he was supposed to be celebrating. almost.

they were standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, where they were entertaining pompous-looking guests with what sebastian could only assume was ostentatious conversation. by they, he meant her and her fiancée (horace? henry?)—who, by the way, is the exact opposite of sebastian, with his raven hair, pale and freckle-free skin, and posture so impeccable that it even made sebastian straighten his own back.

she held out her hand to a lady she was talking to as if to flaunt her ring and sebastian crinkled his nose at the sight. he had to squint, but even from across the room, he could see that blinding diamond on her finger, catching the light like some cruel trick of the shadows. she’d always blabbered about how diamonds were too overrated, how emeralds were the only stones truly worth their weight. he never saw the appeal before, but now he did.

even her own hair wasn’t her. neater than usual, pulled up into that impossibly tight bun. it had always been free before, with that little curl by the side of her neck that always seemed to escape no matter how much she tried to tame it.

and that smile. it was perfect and even like it had been practiced for this very occasion. her real smile was never perfect. it was always a little crooked on the right side and it made her eyes squint into crescents.

pretentious. all of it. most of all, this engagement party. but at least, he had a drink in his hand and a healthy amount of champagne sloshing in it, which, at this point, was enough to blur the sharp edges of his cynicism.

or perhaps it wasn't his cynicism he’s been trying to drown in champagne all night but bitterness. who’s to say, though? certainly not sebastian—his pride would never let him admit that aloud, especially not when he’s supposed to be making merry with the very thing that made him bitter in the first place.

merlin, this engagement party is beginning to feel more and more like a funeral with every passing second, and he'd already dug himself a deep-enough grave just by showing up to this affair—by allowing himself to be here, in this strange limbo between the past he had to let go of and the future he no longer had any part in.

okay, funeral might be too near the knuckle. a stage play, now that's more fitting—complete with its flashy set, monotonous musical accompaniment, even the lead cast and audience. it all felt like a performance, and he, the unwilling spectator, had been cast in the worst role.

all that is to say, it really was not a nice party.

and it seemed he wasn’t the only one with grievances about the whole thing when just a few feet away, he caught the rasp of a shrill, hushed voice, rising above the ambient murmur of polite conversation like a knife through velvet.

“what a pity he's off the market. and to her, of all people. disagreeable little shrew of a witch, if you ask me.”

sebastian turned toward the source of the sound, narrowing his gaze. two women, dressed in garish, overly elaborate gowns were leaning in, exchanging what could only be described as venomous whispers. one of them, a woman with too much rouge on her cheeks, elbowed her companion, who, scandalized, raised a hand to her lips in mock surprise.

“an odd pairing, wouldn't you say?" the second woman chimed in, her voice betraying her amusement. “the hero of hogwarts and a pureblood heir. i wonder how they ever came to be.”

“if all the rumors about her past are to be believed, there has to be a conspiracy behind this. perhaps she slipped him an amortentia or, merlin forbid, blackmailed him.”

the second woman raised her glass in contemplation, her eyes gleaming with the sort of cruelty that only gossip seemed to nurture. “or maybe it’s for status,” she mused, “a marriage of convenience, perhaps? the hero marrying into a respectable family for a bit of security. a trade, if you will.”

he would have been inclined to agree—if only they hadn’t so thoughtlessly insulted the woman he once (still) loved. he could almost feel the heat rising to his face, the bitter sting of their insinuations making his hand ball into a fist at his side. but stepping in would be too over the line, even for sebastian. because she wasn't his to defend anymore. she’d made sure of that by giving her hand to some pureblood prick that wasn't him.

“well," the first woman continued, her voice turning sly, "whatever the case, she’s certainly fortunate. there aren’t many men left nowadays willing to be tied down, what with all the modern notions of ‘free love’ and 'unconventional living.' most prefer the arrangement where marriage is simply a word they needn't bother with. she’ll never want for anything, i suppose.”

“come to think of it, wasn't she in a long-term relationship just before this? witch weekly was quite abuzz about it. detailed how they’ve been together since their time in hogwarts and how everyone thought they'd be married by now, only for them to end in ruins all of a sudden.”

"oh, i think i remember that. though, as i recall, they never revealed the identity of her beau." the first woman pondered, tapping her fan against her cheek. "such a mysterious fellow, wasn't he? can you imagine what it must be like for him? finding out his beloved is to marry one of the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelors so soon after their parting?"

"oh, i’d be positively reeling," the second woman chimed in, a wicked grin playing at her lips. "i’d hardly be able to hold my glass steady."

that was it. he’d had enough eavesdropping for the night. no, scratch that—his whole life, actually.

this was precisely why he never engaged in gossip—not because he didn’t know it was often rooted in half-truths or outright falsehoods, but because on the off chance it was a truth, he couldn’t endure the sting of it especially when rubbed in his face. the incessant chatter, the giggling, the way their voices danced around his very existence like a cruel little game. it was as though they had found some perverse pleasure in prying open wounds that had barely even healed, turning them over in the light for sport.

but there was nothing like alcohol to cleanse the wound, so he had the snack steward pour him a fresh glass of champagne to flush out the muck that clung to the gash.

and it shouldn't even hurt in the first place. he was over this. he’d already accepted how things had come to be. hell, he wouldn't be here at this godforsaken party if he hadn't. this was not the time or place for this. he was a professional, damn it. he had been through worse than a half-forgotten heartbreak in his time, for merlin’s sake. this wasn’t about him, or what he thought he could have had. he was fine.

it was just the champagne. the party had so much damn champagne. it had clouded his head and muddled his thoughts. it made everything hurt more than it should. he just needed fresh air, something sobering, something to clear the fog.

so he excused himself without a word. before he knew it, he was standing on the balcony, the cool night air hitting his face with an almost brutal clarity.

as the cool breeze ruffled his hair, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the chasm below. maybe that was the real feeling—falling. that's what it had always felt like with her. a leap into something that he couldn’t control. something that was already lost before he had the chance to catch it. he’d never been able to get his footing, never been able to catch the ground beneath him before it slipped away.

and tonight, he was just watching her from the bottom, wishing he could climb back up.

—

sebastian stood there, the cold seeping through his coat as the social raged inside. glass of champagne still clutched tightly in his hand since he excused himself—how long ago had that been? a while. he wasn’t sure. time had started to lose its meaning out here. the muffled hum of the party drifted through the heavy stone walls, but he didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

it was a dreadful party, anyway.

at least out here, in the chill, there was a kind of comfort in the solitude. even if it felt like he was slowly being frozen into the stone.

the sound of the balcony doors opening caught his attention, followed by a soft click as they closed behind whoever had dared to step out into the cold.

“oh, my apologies! i didn’t know someone was out here. i—sebastian. there you are.”

sebastian turned towards the commotion, and there she was. with her too-primped hair, too-tight smile, and too-bright ring.

his gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was something there—a flicker of recognition, of shared history, that made his breath catch, almost rivaling the buzz the champagne gave him.

“there you are,” he replied, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. it was almost instinctive—like a beck and call he didn’t even realize he was still answering to.

she let out a breath, looking as if she had been holding it in for far too long. “sorry, i just needed an escape from all that.” her hand swept vaguely behind her, motioning to the pantomime behind the balcony doors.

“i’ll take my leave if you like.” sebastian said, already moving to turn away.

her brows immediately shot up, her hands instinctively raised as if to stop him. “no, stay. please. i’d like some company that isn't somewhat of a stranger for once tonight. unless… you’d rather leave?”

“i’ll stay.”

the words slipped out before he had a chance to stop them, much to his chagrin. he could almost hear his own internal voice, the one that had always been a little too self-assured, a little too sure of himself, yelling at him for it. though he never really knew how to say no to her, he thought by now he’d learn to. maybe it’s because he’s out of practice, or maybe it’s just the champagne dulling his senses.

but then, a small, crooked smile curved on her lips—a smile so familiar, so raw, that sebastian swore it made his heart skip a few beats too many. it was a glimpse of the real her. the one without all the pretense. and gods, it hit him harder than any amount of champagne in the party—no, the entire world—ever could.

she lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to kick off her heeled shoes with a frustrated huff. “these shoes are killing me,” she muttered under her breath, her voice a touch more vulnerable than she probably intended.

sebastian watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the shoes she discarded with such finality, as if casting away a part of her carefully constructed image for a moment of relief. then stepped up next to him, leaning casually against the railing. she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze sweeping out over the city lights as if they held some unspoken truth.

the silence stretched between, but it felt oddly familiar—like the space between them had never really grown so wide. maybe he was just deluding himself, but for a moment, it felt like they hadn’t changed, like they could still slip back into those old rhythms. it wasn’t comfortable, not exactly, but it was natural in a way.

“congratulations, by the way. it’s a nice party,” sebastian said, his voice a little too casual. a lie. he knew it, she knew it. and yet, neither of them dared to say it aloud.

“the very picture of grandeur,” he added, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast, as if the motion might somehow mask the gaucheness creeping into his tone.

she hummed in response, but it wasn’t in agreement. It was more like a sardonic chuckle, a sound that told him she saw through it all. “and then some,” she replied, her voice dripping with dry humor. “i think it’s quite over the top. but don't tell hector i said that, he’d have a fit.”

hector? oh, her fiancée. that must be his name.

for all his loquacious nature, sebastian didn’t quite know how to respond to that. there was a pang of something—jealousy, regret, resentment—that made the words catch in his throat. there was a part of him that wanted to ask how it felt, to ask if hector was everything she had dreamed of. but he knew he didn’t have the right. so, he stayed silent, letting the questions churn inside, only to swallow them down along with another gulp of champagne.

she smiled then, warm at first, but it quickly shifted into something more melancholic. “but i’m glad you’re here, sebastian,” she said, her voice gentle. “to be honest, i wasn’t sure if you’d come, considering, well, everything. if i were you, the last place i’d want to be is my ex’s engagement party.”

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “i could be in worse places,” he said, the smirk tugging at his lips as he raised his glass. “and hey, what could be better than a party with an abundance of champagne?”

“i know you’re joking, but take it easy on the champagne, alright? you’re a lot more indulgent than you like to think.”

sebastian leaned back, giving her a sidelong glance. “ah, there it is. your trademark nagging. i’m already starting to feel sorry for hector.”

the words were flippant, but his chest tightened the moment they left his mouth. the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of her odd brand of shrewish affection gnawed at him more than he wanted to admit. he would have swallowed every word he'd ever said if it meant he could keep all that cavilling to himself again. but that's neither here nor there.

she scoffed. “oh, trust me, he does enough nagging for the both of us. quite the pedant, really. i don't know how you put up with me for as long as you did. might be a good idea to ask for your advice."

her words were wrapped in jest, but sebastian didn’t miss the small shift in her expression. the tiniest of pouts tugged at her bottom lip, and he caught it—just a flicker. it passed so quickly he almost convinced himself he hadn’t seen it. but he had. and it twisted something in his chest, a reminder of all the ways he used to know her. again, he found himself telling himself that it didn't concern him. not anymore.

“advice?” he said, his voice forced into a casual tone, but it cracked just a little. “you’re asking the wrong person, hen. i’m hardly an expert on relationships. evidently.”

the irony in his own words didn't escape him. no, what did escape him was just how much the slip of that term of endearment landed with weight.

her gaze flicked over to him, brow raised in mild surprise, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement. “hen?” she echoed.

ah, of course. yet another symptom of too much champagne that also falls under a lack of control—the slip of the tongue.

“force of habit.” his excuse came, quickly trying to backpedal.

hen was a relic of their past, something he’d used to call her when things were simpler, before everything had gotten tangled and messy. she would always mock him for using such a twee nickname, but there was always something in her expression when he said it, a brief flicker in her eyes that made him wonder if, deep down, she didn’t mind it as much as she let on.

but to his surprise, she just smiled, the curve of her lips soft, almost fond. she didn’t mock him, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. no judgement. no laughter at his expense. there was a quiet in her gaze, one that lingered longer than usual. recognition, maybe. nostalgia. the kind of thing that shouldn’t have been there, but it was. and it echoed in his chest, so painfully familiar.

she hummed, the kind she used to make when she was content, and turned back to the night sky, as though the way she looked at sebastian didn't just send him reeling right then and there. as if she knew that that one look would make him more flustered than she would if she’d just mocked him.

“so, what’s been keeping you busy these days?" she asked, her voice softer now, a hint of genuine curiosity underneath her teasing tone. "the world’s still spinning, i presume?"

"ah, you know. work, as usual," he replied, his tone flat and yet cautious at the same time.

if it were anyone else, he'd have launched into a long-winded spiel of his latest case. after all, his work had become the one thing he clung to, the only thing that made getting out of bed in the morning feel necessary. but with her? the words didn’t flow so easily. even back then, it had become a touchy subject between them—something that both defined him and drove a wedge between them.

okay, so maybe it wasn't his work that drove them apart and more so his obsession to it. or rather, his obsession to prove himself. his obsession to be part of something larger, something better. but that was a thing of the past, and there's no point dredging it up now when they're supposed to be celebrating the future.

"of course, still married to your job, i see. i mean, i get it, you've always been a workaholic.” she nodded, a knowing yet bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "i even heard you took down yet another beast trafficking ring. well done, sebastian.”

sebastian's brow arched involuntarily. had she been keeping tabs on him? the idea that she might still be keeping track of him, that he’s still running around in that mesmerizing clutter of a mind of hers? he wouldn't dare say it out loud but it tickled him pink. it was both absurd and somehow thrilling. maybe she had asked around—natty, perhaps? he had worked on a handful of cases with her over the past few months—there was no reason natty couldn’t have mentioned something about the work they’ve been doing. or maybe she’d been watching him? he wouldn't put it past her to do such a thing, sly little witch she is.

“oh, would you wipe that look off your face?” came her voice, the playful edge in her voice obvious. “i know what you're thinking, and no. i just happened to read about it on the daily prophet.”

sebastian couldn’t help the slow, satisfied smile that crept across his face. she could feign ignorance as much as she liked, but the flush on her cheeks told a different story. and it sure as hell wasn’t just the rouge she wore. it spread slowly, a warm pink creeping up her neck, staining her cheek.

“is that so?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but it came out a little softer than he’d intended. “i guess i make the news more than i realized.”

“i’ll have you know the daily prophet reports on anything these days. they even had an article on what the best flavor of bertie bott’s beans is.” she rolled her eyes, her lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “beans, sebastian. on the very same page of your ring-busting article. i guess that's the kind of highly important news they decide to prioritize.”

“next thing you know, they're reporting on the right way to sneeze.” he added with a wry grin.

“oh, you’d better read that then,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes alight with a teasing sparkle. “merlin knows how many have suffered at the hands of your loud sneezes.”

“well, you know what the daily prophet won't be able to tell you? i adopted a cat.”

her eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. "a cat?" she looked at him like he’d just announced he’d learned to juggle fire. “you? this happened when, pray tell?”

sebastian shrugged, his smile widening just a little. "oh, you know. a few weeks ago. felt i might do with some company that wasn’t a case file or a bottle of firewhisky.”

the glint in her eyes only told him she was intrigued, so he kept going. "yeah. you’d love her. she’s a restless bugger, but she can be so affectionate. she reminds me a lot of you, actually. it’s why i got her in the first place. i even named her hen after—”

he froze mid-sentence, his smile faltering as soon as he realized what he’d said. sweet merlin, is there any chance he could cast a shrinking charm on himself so he could be small enough to jump into his glass and drown in the champagne?

or maybe that’s just it. he’s had way too much champagne. it had messed with him already more times than he could count tonight, so it wouldn't be too far-fetched. but then again, he didn't really care enough to stop drinking. not when the alcohol made it easier to suppress the bitter feelings that threatened to spill.

she stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide with surprise, then a small, entertained twist of expression tugged at the corner of her mouth. if earlier hadn’t been enough to spark her teasing, then surely this would be.

“merlin, i’ve been replaced by a cat.” she tilted her head. “i don’t know whether to be offended, relieved, or touched.”

sebastian’s eyes narrowed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his attempt to look disinterested. he rolled his eyes dramatically, though the teasing wasn’t lost on him. “oh, come off it,” he muttered.

“look at you,” she spoke again. her voice was soft, as if overflowing with a solemn pride. “sebastian sallow, slytherin’s finest, accomplished auror, and now, cat owner. everything you ever wanted to be.”

if one word could be used to describe sebastian, it would be amour propre. granted, that’s two words, but the point still stands: he’s everything he’s ever wanted to be, and he’s proud of it. hell, he’d sacrificed more than he cared to admit to get here, to prove himself, to show the world that he was enough.

but if so, why did her words feel like a punch to the gut?

because all he’d ever wanted was to be hers. that was the truth of it, buried beneath all the ambition, all the success, all the work that had consumed him. it had never been about the accolades or the recognition. it was all just smoke and mirrors, an illusion from what he truly wanted. to prove himself worthy of her hand.

and when his eyes landed on that diamond on her finger, he’d realized all of it was for nothing. true to sebastian sallow fashion, he became too focused on the end goal he’d lost sight of where it all began.

"and you?" he finally managed, voice rougher than he intended. "you’re becoming a... wife."

the words felt like lead in his mouth. he swallowed hard, as if trying to chase the bitter taste out of his throat.

she sighed softly, almost wistfully, and her hand moved to absently fiddle with the diamond ring on her finger. the band slid up and down, just a little too big for her, a subtle movement that made it seem like it didn’t quite belong.

"i know, right?" she said, a faint, almost bitter edge creeping into her voice. "everything i ever wanted to be..."

“do you ever wish things could have panned out differently, sebastian?” she asked the question softly after a beat, but there was a weight to it, like she already knew the answer.

sebastian tried to find the words, but only stayed silent. he would be lying if he said he didn’t—if he didn’t wish, deep down, that things had turned out differently. but he’d had a year to accept it. a year to make peace with the reality handed to him, to bury the gnawing what-ifs under layers of duty and time. he’d convinced himself he was moved on. convinced himself that this was what was meant to be.

but that was before today. before this party. before the sight of the ring—her ring—shining like a cruel reminder of everything he had lost.

well, what good was wishful thinking, really? what was it but a self-inflicted wound that only festered into regret? what was done was done. and what was done was them—two separate paths now, carved out by the choices of time.

“why am I even asking? i’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.” her voice broke through his thoughts, laced with a softness that almost felt too painful.

“but... isn’t this what you wanted?” he forced himself to meet her eyes, though the words scraped his throat like nails. “to settle down, build a family?”

her eyes dropped to the ring again, the weight of it between them. she didn’t answer right away, as though she were trying to decide how to put it into words. the silence stretched thin before she spoke, her voice almost wistful, a quiet ache behind it.

“i… it is. just not like this.”

sebastian frowned, his brow furrowing deeper with confusion. not like this? what did she mean by that? was she implying that this—this life, this marriage, this future she was about to walk into—wasn’t what she had hoped for?

but he knew better than to be presumptuous. the last time he'd done that, he’d assumed she would be there, waiting, standing beside him until the end of time. and look where that had gotten him. he had learned, painfully, that hope could be a dangerous thing when it wasn’t tempered by reality.

and for all he knew, maybe she wasn’t so much regretting her choices as she was adjusting to them. the end of a decade-long relationship. the move from a cozy one-bedroom flat to a grand, unfamiliar manor that seemed more like a cage than a home. an engagement. the pressure of it. the weight of the new, the unfamiliar. it had to leave her feeling a little unmoored, a little lost. after all, hadn’t it left him feeling the same way when he was forced to step into a future he never wanted?

so instead of speaking, of pressing her for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, sebastian did what he’d become so adept at doing in the last year: he held his tongue. he let the silence stretch between them, a thin, fragile line neither of them seemed willing to cross.

but then, after a long beat, her voice broke through the quiet, softer than before, hesitant and unsure.

“i mean... i…” she hesitated for a fraction of a second, her fingers twisting slightly around the diamond ring. “i just miss going out on adventures, taking down bad guys, the daily prophet reporting about my adventures. i’m sorry, i know, i sound so green-eyed.”

“well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “i think you were in a witch weekly article.”

she elbowed him lightly, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “not a consolation. you know i don’t like being treated like a celebrity.”

“moot point when you’ve got a whole wingding for a marriage that hasn’t even happened yet.”

she rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. “oh, hush. it wasn’t my idea. if anything, i was against this whole thing but a husband's word is the law.”

her words were casual enough, but there was something beneath them—a quiet fatalism that rang through her tone, as though she had long since stopped fighting against the roles others had set for her. it was so unlike her. the woman he had known would have never allowed herself to be so... tame. it made him wonder if, had she heard him say that, would she still have hexed him like how her normal reaction would have been?

she had always been a force in her own right—a woman who did things her way, consequences be damned. and for all his own reservations about this hector, sebastian couldn’t deny there was a certain respect in the way she spoke of him. no, not respect—submission. it was the resignation of someone who had, for better or for worse (pun unintended), accepted their fate.

well, if it had been him—if he had been the one to give her that ring—things would have been different.

oh. there it was again—champagne clouding his judgement, making him think of what-ifs. but really, how much longer could he hold onto the intoxicating delusion that things could still be different? and most of all, how much longer can one blame the champagne?

sebastian set his glass down on the railing, the crystal making a sharp, definitive clink that cut through the silence. the sound seemed to echo, as though marking a turning point in the conversation, a shift in the air between them.

“i ought to warn hector,” he said, the playful edge to his voice sharpening in the thick air. “you can be quite scary when things don’t go your way. i remember once, ominis asked you to stop breaking and entering into random homes, and what did you do? used a very advanced locking charm to lock him out of his own apartment. took him days to get back inside. perhaps i should share that delightful story with your fiancée.”

her eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile that tugged at her lips betrayed a knowing amusement. “oh, i’m sure hector would enjoy that just as much as he’d enjoy the scolding he'd give me after,” she said, her voice smooth but tinged with something heavier. “he’s a man of strong opinions—loves to hold court on matters of... propriety. and best believe, he doesn't sway easily.”

“ah, but you forget my irresistible charm. you were the most relentless person i know, and it worked on you, didn’t it?”

“more like it wore me down.”

“same thing.”

she laughed. actually, more like guffawed. the sound bubbled up from her chest and filled the space between them, louder and freer than he’d heard in ages.

for a moment, everything seemed to fall away—the lingering heartbreak of their separation, the party, the expectations, the wretchedness of it all. they were just two people, lost in the simplicity of shared history, the ease of old comfort.

her shoulder brushed his, the smallest of touches. sebastian hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten, how their space had slowly shrunk until they were practically leaning into each other. he could feel the warmth of her next to him, the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

it made his head spin and he didn't know what to blame this time. was it the champagne he’d been nursing all night? or perhaps the party had made him stir crazy? maybe he’s gotten a cold from all this biting air? all he knew was that if she were any closer, he would surely die. but in that same breath, he didn’t want it to stop. he didn't want the dizzying rush of this feeling to end. to be this close to her, so near, so... alive—if this was what death felt like, he would die happy. hell, he'd beg for it.

and it seemed the universe, in all its cruel, whimsical glory, did indeed want him to die. because in the next breath, she moved again—just a slight shift, but it was enough. her head, soft and weightless, found its place against his shoulder, a gentle pressure that sent a shiver through him, down to his very bones.

it was a dangerous thing, this proximity. it made him ache for the things he couldn't have anymore. but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind the pain.

“i haven’t laughed this much in a while,” she said, her voice almost dreamy. “i forgot how easily you could do that.”

“you know for someone so talkative, you're awfully quiet today.” she added.

sebastian exhaled, trying to force a chuckle past the lump in his throat. “ah, well... it’s not every day i come to my ex’s engagement party."

the words were dry and brittle, a thin veil over the mess of feelings roiling beneath. he could feel the weight pressing down on him, his usual charm lost to the quiet ache that had been building ever since he’d walked into this damned party.

she looked up at him, her head leaving his shoulder. sebastian fought the urge to wince at the loss of contact. he hated how it made him feel—small, like a child caught in the act of wanting something he could never have. a pathetic little loser, lost in his own head.

“right. the party,” she said, her voice distant now, like she was already stepping away, back to the world she was now leashed to. “i should get back in there.”

sebastian could feel the words coiling in his throat, but he couldn’t make them come. the lump was too heavy, the ache too deep. he didn’t want to stop her, didn’t want to be the one to hold her in this fleeting moment, knowing it was already slipping away. so he simply nodded.

she nodded back, a small, quiet acknowledgment. and in that brief exchange, something shifted—like a subtle current pulling them together without either of them willing to fight it. they were both standing still, suspended in the space between them, as though the world around them had melted into a blur. neither could look away. their gazes locked, drawn together by the gravity of everything unspoken, everything left unresolved.

for a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, quiet and steady, as though time itself had momentarily paused. sebastian could see the subtle flicker of emotion in her eyes, the fragility of it. the distance between them was vast, but in that instant, it felt narrower than it ever had before. she wasn’t just the woman he’d lost; she was a stranger, yet also someone he knew more intimately than anyone else in the world.

her lips parted, but no words came. it was as though they were both afraid to break the fragile tension that hummed between them. they were too fixed on each other’s eyes, as if speaking would shatter something delicate, something that might never exist again.

but then the sound of the balcony doors opening broke the stillness. a shift in the air, sharp and unwelcome, as if the universe itself was demanding they face the reality neither of them wanted to acknowledge. the doors clicked shut behind the intruder.

“brother, i knew you’d be sulking out here,” came anne’s voice, sharp and too bright. sebastian turned, his jaw tightening at the sound of her footsteps.

her eyes caught the two of them, lingering just long enough to read the unspoken, heavy weight of the moment. then, her expression flickered, a mix of surprise and amusement, as if she were watching something she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“did i interrupt something?” anne asked, a sly edge to her words, as if she could see through the mask they both wore, but was too polite to say anything more.

before sebastian could even process a response, the woman in front of him beat him to it.

“oh, not at all,” she said quickly, brushing past him to put her shoes back on. her voice was light, but there was something strained about it now—an effort to keep her composure intact. as if she was already slipping back into the role she’d rehearsed for the evening. “i was just heading out.”

anne, ever the enigma, chirped with forced cheer. “oh, by the way, congratulations on your engagement!”

“thank you, anne,” she replied, her tone measured, smooth—too smooth.

with the speed at which her mask snapped back on, sebastian felt as if he'd just gone through the looking glass. the moment between them, that fragile flicker of rawness, shattered the second she spoke. the real her, the woman he’d known, was gone—swallowed by a perfect, polished version of herself. he could almost hear the click as the walls went back up, soundproof and impervious.

but just as she turned to leave, her eyes flicked back to sebastian, and for a split second, there was a crack in that mask. a fleeting moment of something raw, something unguarded. the way she looked at him made his chest tighten, the kind of look that carried a thousand unspoken words, a thousand regrets.

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something—anything—but she didn’t. the silence between them grew thick, heavy with all the things they never said and probably never would.

instead, he grabbed his champagne glass, fingers trembling just slightly as he raised it to his lips, swallowing the rest of it in one smooth, numbing gulp. anything to chase away the taste of the moment, anything to erase the feeling of her gaze and touch.

“excuse me,” she murmured, her voice soft and distant, as if this whole thing—this entire exchange—had already been written. she brushed past anne with the grace of someone who had long ago perfected the art of walking away, leaving sebastian with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of champagne and the cold, aching silence.

they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. but sebastian knew the truth. watching her walk away, the woman he had loved with everything in him, the woman who had been his world before it all crumbled—it didn’t make him stronger. it just made him feel dead. and drunk.

or maybe it was just the champagne.

[nymphie66]

God Bless America pt 3

Part One

Part Two

Description: Things are back on track between you and Ben, and you've found a sort of peace. Vought is determined to ruin that.

Author's note: This hyperfixation is really serving. This may be the last part of this mini-fic, as I've literally just been writing things as they've entered my mind and they just happen to be cohesive. But who knows! Uni starts up again imminently, hopefully I'll catch a break. Feel free to send in prompts or scenarios and I could probably bang something drabbley out. Also, thank you everyone for your support, I love each and every one of you motherfuckers.

Warnings: gore, darkfic -kinda, this came out slightly fluffy (don't know what happened there lol), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sex, swearing, implied forced testing, cringey language

S/N : Supe Name

Suit: random office worker that I didn't bless with a name or description

---

You span in your desk chair in absolute boredom, hands on your swollen belly, the only modicum of joy you got was from the movements of your darling baby, only four more months to go now.

Which is why you were sat in said desk chair, in a Vought meeting room with a bunch of suits from HR and legal, negotiating over your maternity leave and, much to his horror, Ben's paternity leave.

He couldn't understand why he would have to take time off as well. As he put it "My part is done, I got my soldiers to your base, your turn to lead the charge." After saying such a thing he promptly had the nearest object in your vicinity thrown at him.

You tried to explain to him, that you would need help as the pregnancy progressed, that there could be complications leaving you bed-bound till it was time to push the little one out into the world, that you could even be hospitalised. You expected him to put his fingers in his ear and start singing the national anthem at you, desperate to drown you out, but what happened instead shocked you.

He stilled, and you could see the thoughts churning in his head, and gradually his brow furrowed and he turned away from you. You walked towards him, arms encircling his waist, face pressed against his back, the texture of his soft cotton jersey brushing against your cheek. You knew exactly what he was doing.

Ben cleared his throat and took a sharp inhale of breath. He couldn't show weakness in front of you, especially not now. It wasn't the manly- let alone fatherly- thing to do. But he felt that resolve weaken by the way you held him so tenderly, leaned into his back so softly. It reminded him of the earlier days in your relationship, when you trusted him so blindly, believed in him so faithfully.

He'd get home from work, usually in a pissy mood, ranting and raving about whatever fuckery his team had put him through. And you would be there, smile on your lips, eyes filled with joy just at the sight of him. You'd listen, never probe but when he was just winding himself up, you would circle your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, leaning on him for support. The action was simple but made him feel like he was your whole world, that he was all you needed, that he was enough.

Things were better now. Ben had followed your instruction to the morbid T, and in turn, you allowed his presence, tolerated it even, though you soon fell back into the trap of loving him wholeheartedly again. The way he doted on you, adored you, the way you were 'his girl' again.

It didn't mean that things were perfect - far from it. You still had the occasional shouting match that led to the replacement of many crushed/shattered mobile phones, and though you wouldn't admit it, your attachment to Ben had become positively possessive. If his gaze strayed from you for more than a minute, you could feel yourself freeze up, a blend of uncouth rage and desperation flooding you that was only sated when he looked back at you again. You were needy, and it was pathetic- to you, not to him, he found it hot as fuck and told you so.

Ben would press a hand to your lower back, hover smugly above your ear and whisper assurances to you, though they were less than PG. Often involving a detailed description of him fucking you in front of whoever you were jealous of. You blamed the pregnancy hormones, but every time he did it you wanted him to make good on his promises and you quickly escorted him to a (mostly) private section of wherever you were.

In fact, as you sat there, listening to the drone of legal and HR, you realised that you had been in this meeting room before. Though you could hardly blame yourself, you didn't really take in decor when you bent over the conference table, getting your brains fucked out. You cursed yourself for not making Ben read that pregnancy book earlier, ever since he found out making you cum was good for the baby, the man was on a mission - not that he wasn't before, but there was definitely an added level of determination that you appreciated.

"So it's agreed? S/N will start her maternity leave now and once she reaches her third trimester Soldier Boy will start his paternity leave." Your Vought legal representative consolidated. You tuned back into the conversation, hopeful that this meeting was finally coming to an end.

"Agreed, we have already arranged for the samples to be taken in the next half-hour if S/N is ready?" The other suit asked, casting you an expectant look. You froze, your hand gripping your bump and leaned forward, a panicked look directed to your rep, but before you could continue the suit continued. "May I remind S/N that it is in her signed contract that sample matter from a resulting pregnancy is legally Vought's to take. This includes amniotic fluid, blood and foetus tissue sample."

You felt your stomach lurch and you swallowed thickly, you didn't argue that it wasn't in your contract, it was exactly the type of sick and twisted clause Vought would stick in there.

"S/N?" Your legal rep asked, seemingly completely unbothered by what was going on. You didn't question if it was safe, nothing that Vought did was ever safe.

You surveyed the room, there was about eight people there, none of them particularly intimidating but that's not what you were worried about. They would have known you were going to show resistance and you now realised that the abundance of office workers was to merely lull you into a false sense of security. This meant one of three things. 1) There was a supe nearby ready to make you comply 2) One if not all of them had tranquillisers on them 3) all of the above.

Knowing Vought it was probably number three.

You could try and do a runner but you would get caught, you could try and fight them but that meant risking the baby. Whatever supe was going to show up would hardly care about your condition and who the fuck knew what Vought put in those tranquillisers.

Your eyes looked around the room, pretending to think about if you had any scheduled plans after this meeting. Your eyes settled on a wonky painting that had been hastily put back up- in fact, you had put that back up after it fell during your 'de-stressing session' with Ben.

Ben.

"Yes, I think that should be just fine." You smiled sweetly at them, "You wouldn't mind me calling my fiancé Be- Soldier Boy to let him know, would you? He likes to be included in anything related to the baby. Plus he would love to know that our little creation is helping advance the research at Vought. Anything for his country- you know him!"

You laughed and waved your hand, praying that they were convinced by your little show. They didn't know him, but it flew that Soldier Boy, the living and breathing embodiment of the good ol' red white and blue, would be behind such a thing. It was for his country after all.

"Great, that's just great. I'll call him now." You took the general shrugging from them as a go-ahead and quickly called Ben, mouthing 'busy man' to them with a big smile as it continued to ring, you were half afraid that he wasn't going to pick up until you heard his gruff voice on the end of the line.

"What baby? Can't even go to a meeting without-"

"-Ben, honey!" You smiled tensely as you cut him off his surely sordid sentence, and prayed that he could pick up on your forced cheeriness, from experience he should. Considering you only spoke in that tone to him when you were threatening to get rid of his baby or extreme violence. "I just wanted to let you know that Vought are going to collect some samples of our little star-spangled bugaboo. Amniotic fluid, blood, a bit of tissue matter, nothing our little super trooper can't handle, especially considering her old daddio! I was just hoping you would be able to join your darling doll at the doctor's, honeybuns."

You wanted to pull your own tongue out of your mouth, stuff it down your throat and throw it back up again.

"I will be right there."

And just like that the line dropped, you smiled, taking the phone away from your ear and holding it to your chest. You gave a thumbs up and chuckled nervously, "He's on his way!" You sat back down into your chair and exhaled, muttering the phrase to yourself again. "He's on his way.."

The time it took for Ben to get there was filled with awkward silence, interrupted only by the odd question from a curious suit about your pregnancy and the baby. Which was met with a vague and elusive answer. There was no way in hell you were going to give them any more information about it than what they already had.

Then finally, Ben appeared, bursting into the conference room decked out in his suit, hair dishevelled, panting ever so slightly, knuckles bruised. So you were right, there had been a supe nearby. He looked at you with a loving urgency and you stood up, one hand on your stomach as you nodded your head. You were okay, the both of you were, but more importantly, you were ready.

Ben landed the first hit and the HR manager's head rolled down the conference table like a bloody bowling ball. You struck next, your unhelpful rep ended up being useful for the first time in their life by acting as a human shield as you burst through their chest and clawed out the Head of Legal's throat. The others got out their tranqs - right again, but you unsheathed your forearm from your rep's chest and threw their body onto them, knocking them off their feet.

"Glad you got the message." You told him in relief as you crushed an approaching man's skull in your hand, blood decorating your face like gruesome confetti from a piñata. You quickly dropped him and continued walking towards your saviour.

"Well at first I thought you were trying something new-" Ben kicked another suit's chest in, smiling as he fell to the floor, there weren't many left now. "-but by daddio, I started to realise that something was wrong, darling doll and honeybuns was then just obvious"

"Oh so star-spangled-bugaboo and super trooper were fine, but you drew the line at daddio?" You laughed, hands on your hips as he finished the rest off. Happy that the threats had now been eliminated, Ben allowed himself to relax- slightly and turned to look at you.

You looked ravishing.

His little psycho.

Your hair was wild, no longer in the neat ponytail you had agonised over this morning. The blood that drenched your clothes hung to your curves perfectly, showed off your baby bump beautifully. The look light and love in your eyes? Intoxicating.

He quickly strove over and placed a firm hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him. How could he have ever taken this- you- for granted. He would damn himself a hundred times and a hundred times more for it. You squeaked at the force behind his kiss but happily melted into it and for a brief moment you thought you were going to have reenact the last time the two of you had been there. If you ignored the background last time, you could ignore the blood, guts and gore that made it up now.

Unfortunately, Ben pulled away, pressing his forehead against your own. You whined and he smirked. "Sorry baby, but Butcher's waiting outside in the car, gotta get you and bugaboo out of here."

"That's not sticking!"

"It so is."

[brotherwtf]

Ooomph so this in my head in a non sexual way but

Buck x Bucky fit so much of an Autism x ADHD type of relationship.

Can see it at the Stalag, John not being able to be as active or have as much stimulation and picking fights and not quite seeing how he is scaring other people and Gale frantically clinging to a resemblance of routine and rules because that’s what makes sense.

Maybe a modern AU? But both would be using weighted blankets to regulate their nervous systems and help with symptoms. But they get stuck somewhere, maybe in an airport hotel with a storm system? And John isn’t coping well and Buck just lies on top of him and helps in that way.

Maybe in a WWII fic when there is a more accurate gap between the two escaping. (I think like three months? Or something?) Buck has put weight back on and John has lost more. Could be a weight moment where Buck weighs more than Bucky.

Bucky is back at Thorpe Abbotts. And can’t stop shaking. Buck helps ❤️

THIS ANON YES YES

John being ADHD coded is so precious to me, that boy CANNOT and WILL NOT be at anything less 100% irritating at all times, especially with his little anecdotes for Gale

"the unicorn is my favorite animal" babygirl you were BEGGING to say that for at least an hour weren't you? but you kept that in bcs you didn't want to overwhelm your bf when he just got to base? okay darling

but Gale being autistic makes so so much sense, him just wanting to go nonverbal and letting his outgoing boyfriend take up space in the room while you fade into the background? yep yep

definitely in a modern au Gale would have the most random facts for John, and John would just eat them up every single time, would present his own anecdotes about them and then get caught in a spiral of his own thoughts, which Gale always likes to see, likes to listen to him talk

John absolutely loves when Gale goes on little rants about what he's hyperfixating on at the moment, maybe in a modern au it's usually planes or something like that, he'll sit and listen for hours while Gale talks about it, it's one of the only times he can actually concentrate and is able to sit still for that long

the weighted blanket thing is making me giggle because DEFINITELY, John NEEDS to have something on top of him during the night or he'll just be vibrating, can't quite get his brain to stop running, the weight just sort of centers him and allows him to sleep. Same with Gale, he likes to have that weight so he doesn't feel like he's going to start falling again, maybe even in a modern au Gale has those weird feelings that he's falling through the air, grabs ahold of John whenever he does and squeezes his eyes shut to stop the feeling

Gale would definitely lie on top of John whenever he's getting restless, they're at a hotel or something and John's just squirming, Gale finally just rolls on top of him to get him to stop moving, God bless they're both so silly

[lazycranberrydoodles]

I hate to ask but who is hua Chang

Hua Cheng is the deuterantagonist of the Chinese web novel Heaven Official's Blessing! It's a historical fantasy novel about gods and ghosts and cultivators (xianxia) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. It's also a gay romance (danmei). The main themes are destiny, love, and what it means to be a good person. It has a comic version (manhua) and one-soon-to-be-two seasons of animation (donghua).

He's an 800+ year old ghost who has a sentient sword made from his own dismembered eye, runs a city, turns his enemies into blood rain, creates silver wraith butterflies and has been devotedly worshiping/pining after his god, Xie Lian, his entire life. This book is the longest hyperfixation I have ever had. So I think it's pretty good (understatement of the century).

I can and have written essay length rants about him but here is a paragraph i wrote a while back about my favorite things about him, to sum up:

His gender probably. The way he looked fate in the eyes and said “fuck you, old man” and built a highly successful life of his own. How he is so fucked up but still hyper-competent. How all his strength comes from love. How his devotion changed as he grew up but never wavered. The way he is kind but not nice. His infodump swag.

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tag @blackberrysummerblog ❤️

Y’all I am genuinely so annoyed with myself bc I started a new fic and it’s my new hyperfixation and not only is it not snowbaz, it’s something I never thought I’d write: a deep dive into a character’s backstory that takes place a decade before canon. I’m not even sure I’ll get to canon in this fic (especially since this is written for a television show that’s still ongoing), let alone reach a point where I can make the characters I ship end up together. And I’m not even fully convinced the characters will end up together? Like, don’t get me wrong they are going to want to fuck but if canon keeps dropping these insane arcs then I don’t know if I’m ever going to make it happen. I really want to stay as true as possible to canon while also throwing my own HCs in there, including angst. Oh god so much angst. This fic should be titled “Doomed by the Narrative” lol.

I’m really turning 2024 into a write-fics-no-one-wants-to-read-and-cry-about-not-getting-validation challenge. (Okay okay it’s actually been kind of therapeutic and I’m glad I’m following my bliss.) Bless @thewholelemon for reading this and commenting anyway; you have no idea how hard I’m holding your comment to my chest and hugging it.

Anyway here are a lot of lines from the fic under the break bc I’m still trying to tempt a few of you over to the dark side:

“Eddie! Don’t—” but then she was too preoccupied to argue.

He couldn’t help laughing as he pushed the door open. “Ah, pobrecita.”

“It’s not funny.” She sat on her knees before the toilet, hair pulled back with one hand while the other cradled her forehead, elbow propped up on the seat. She was bare from the waist down, her tank top falling off one shoulder. Half of her bangs stuck up straight in the air while the other half was plastered to her skin from sweat.

Eddie clicked his tongue as he wet a washcloth and grabbed a hair tie from where Shannon kept them in a bowl by her sink. “It’s a little funny,” he said, dabbing at her forehead then resting the wet cloth on the back of her neck.

“That feels nice.”

He pulled her hand holding back her hair gently away and then inexpertly tied what strands he could capture with her elastic. “There.”

“Thanks.” She groaned as she pushed off the toilet, resting her back against the tub. Her eyes darted down to his boxers. “Oh. You didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he said.

“It’s not. Nothing’s ever going to be fine again. I have thirty more weeks of this.”

“Thirty-two,” he corrected her. “And that’s probably a conservative estimate. Most first pregnancies take longer.”

She flicked her eyes up to his. “You’re good at this.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” she pointed a finger back and forth between them, “taking care of people.”

“Ah? I mean, I do have two younger sisters. You know how Adriana was born in an emergency C-section?”

“No.” Shannon had a strange look on her face. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t?”

“You don’t tell me a lot of things, Eddie.”

Not sure who to inflict this on with tags so I’m picking people who write/art in multiple fandoms and can maybe relate: @larkral, @roomwithanopenfire, @forabeatofadrum, @excalisbury, @stardustasincocaine, @ic3-que3n, @theearlgreymage & of course my boos @thewholelemon, @raenestee, & @bookish-bogwitch who are always so sweet to indulge my whims y’all keep writing fun. Also open tag to anyone who wants to share what they’re working on!

[eggbedthewriter]

SO I have a new hyperfixation and an official quotes book for my school (I never know whats happening over there tbh) so without further ado; Sally Face characters as quotes from my life!!!

-

Larry, high as shit: "I don't know if a penguin could beat a woodchuck"

-

Larry: "I have mental disorders!"

Ash: "which ones?"

Larry: "...I'm just really stupid"

-

Neil: "I'm a homo!"

Sal: "I'm white!"

-

Mrs. Packerton (mostly because this quote comes from my old, very southern, ELA teacher) : "It's not cheating if she's not doing the dude"

-

Todd: "I'm not opinionated! I'm a ginger!"

-

*Sal and Larry arguing*

Ash: "what are you fighting about now?"

Larry, yelling at Sal: "DUDE, RECEIPT PAPER IS THE WORST FLAVOR"

-

Todd, explaining math to Ash: "one swoop goes with one swoop, two swoop go with two swoop"

-

Ash: "So my brother was trying to walk baby Jesus down the aisle and dropped him, he got cleanly decapitated"

Travis: "YOUR BROTHER KILLED BABY JESUS?!?"

Sal: "HE HAD AN ABORTION?"

-

Larry, to Sal: "you can throw the ball at me, just don't throw it at my butt. It hurts after like the 3rd time"

Sal: "thats the point!"

-

Travis: "you have really messed up teeth, are you british?"

-

Sal, to Mr. Addison: "(terrance) you poisioned us all. Thank you very much."

-

Todd: "throwing gang signs at me? God bless the sidewalks for keeping me out of the streets."

(My favorite part is that this was actually said by my math teacher)

-

Sal: "I thought homecoming was a football game???"

-

Larry: "TRAVIS SHUT THE FUCK UP. No one was talking to you!"

(This one was actually said after a kid said 9/11 didn't matter... yikes)

-

Sal: "how do you spell aardvark??"

Larry: "UHHH... A R D V A R C"

[verdemoun]

I know that the time warp is mostly just VDL gang but hypothetically if it wasn’t how do you think characters like Hamish and Albert Mason would act in present time? They are my absolute favorite side mission things and I already finished them :[

Albert Mason would struggle so much god bless him but man could barely survive 1899 let alone trying to cross a street in any major city in modern era.

Arthur just has to pick him up by the scruff of his shirt to stop the poor guy getting hit by a car 90% of the time. albert mason needs a monkey backpack for his own safety moreso than sean does.

it's so fun imagining albert interacting with the rest of the VDLs. lenny would help teach him about photoshop and photo editing and after the initial moral dilemma of 'am i doctoring photos to suit my own goals? :c' albert would love photoshop. cackles maniacally as he removes his thumb from photos.

he would have multiple phones just because he liked the cameras on them differently. honestly he would just have a shelf of cameras. side point when people time warp they have everything that was on their persons at the time so he would still have his original camera but the struggle to get prints for an 1880s camera would force him to convert to modern technology. his favorite would be disposable film cameras even if the guilt over the environmental impact would keep him awake at night.

albert would also get along with kieran super well because he has such great vibes and they could infodump on one another. you know when two people with wildly different hyperfixations both just listen to one another talk? that's kieran and albert.

they adore sitting in the backyard as a little window of flourishing nature in the suburbia. arthur is still supervising nervously in case either one of them finds a way to get themselves killed but kieran is merrily tending to his vegetable patch while albert is taking photos of hummingbirds and butterflies

ALBERT WOULD GET SO INTO ENTOMOLOGY AND MACRO PHOTOGRAPHY HE WOULD BE SO PASSIONATE ABOUT SAVING THE BEES. he wanted to save the environment in 1880 imagine him learning about how much diversity there was in insects. this would have only started because there was a spider in his place and he was too scared of it and squeamish to kill it.

he would be a freelance photographer who would still hate pomp. hates taking wedding photos, any kind of formal event, even pet photography would bother him because he's used to real, wild animals not overgroomed dogs that barely look like dogs

but the second other creators asked him to take photos he would be so excited he would really struggle to ask a fair price for his services.

if he had a gun and knew how to use it he would shoot influencers on sight but he loves cosplayers and those hyper-realistic fantasy posable art dolls. he can be caught at any convention very much wondering how much to charge people because he's just so honored to be able to take photos of their creations like artists supporting artists he doesn't want to take their money but he's hella tired of instant noodles too

his true passion would be trying to photograph cryptids he would have an x-files i want to believe tshirt and arthur would go on expeditions to find mothman with him

phew one down lost my mind a little there I ALSO JUST FINISHED HAMISH'S QUESTS I LOVE HIM

he adjusts the fastest purely based on levels of 'do i look like i give a fuck'. oh, we're in the future now? wild.

getting a modern day prosthetic after walking around with a slab of wood for decades would be so mind boggling. let hamish sinclair get a running blade and after a realistic learning period he would love running and getting to enjoy the outdoors and hiking trails with far more independence than 1899 could afford an amputee

he would still share stories about the civil war making it clear he was talking about the civil war and people would just roll with it because what are you meant to do when an otherwise super chill and friendly veteran seems delusional. he has such a captivating way of telling stories it's frankly worth it

he haunts local fishing spots complaining about folks these days and their fancy high tech gear and no one knows how to make their own lure anymore but they all love him

he has the most hideous souped up all terrain all weather fwd mobility scooter he also named buell and he absolutely should not be allowed to drive it because he never received lessons and just decided to figure it out himself at the expense of every pedestrian in his way but he would love being able to go shopping by himself and not needing to rely on people

isaac calls him grandpa but always calls him hamish to his face because hamish would hate being called grandpa but hamish does 110% believe the kids are alright. he lets isaac tie a rope to the back of his scooter and hoons around with the kid on a skateboard.

pulling up to the matthews house blaring the shrill horn of his scooter 'get in loser we're gon' hunting'

he would still live on his own in a prefab cabin arthur very illegally helped him build on public land by the water in his own house building chapter. the fact it is still standing by the time john gets there is a miracle and they practically have to rebuild it from scratch

hamish is blissfully aware/pretending to be blissfully unaware of the absolute glare hosea gives him because arthur will always complain and whine when hosea wants to go fishing with him but if hamish asks arthur's skipping out the door with his fishing rod

no one is allowed to hate on hamish. as much as hosea is bitterly jealous of how well hamish and arthur get along because 'that's my son' hosea, hamish, javier and kieran would all meet up and go fishing on the pier together sharing tips, bait, handmade lures and cook fish on an open fire on the shore

when charles gets there arthur is as nervous about charles meeting hamish as a kid introducing his partner to his parents for the first time. they would get along so well but it wouldn't seem like it. they go hunting together and arthur is so anxious because charles and hamish have pretty much only said hello to each other and are otherwise silent the entire trip but asking each privately later they absolutely adored the other's company and can't wait to see each other again.

[seaweedbraens]

Semi-new reader here. I had wreck my plans tabbed in my email since 2022.It sat there for two years and I re-read it on a whim (I havent read fanfiction since 2022, life got a little crazy) last week. Read both of wreck my plans and wcwsthwas in the span of maybe 6 days. Just wanted to let you know your writing cleared my skin, fixed my TMJ, straightened my scoliosis, helped me pass my finals, made my nails grow, cured my seasonal depression, bought me a flight to go home from college, fixed my broken computer screen, gave me philosophical thoughts, healed my soul, etc. Thank you for helping me get back into one of my old hyperfixations. god bless your writing ty

you're a TROOPER for reading both fics in 6 days,,,,are you ok i'm dying to know your phone screentime

SDFGHJ you made me giggle so hard im glad to have performed a miracle on every aspect of your life!!! i kid but THANK YOU i'm so glad to have dragged you back into fanfic hell <333

[fleeting-starshower]

Top 5 fictional romances?

Oh, that's a good one! I'll do five but I don't think they'll be in any order T-T

1. Kinn Theerapanyakun X Porsche Kittisawasd - KinnPorsche : La Forte

(First picture - Kinn on the left, Porsche on the right / Second picture - Porsche on the left, Kinn on the right)

A mafioso and his ex-martial artist turned bodyguard. Begins to sob. Seeing both their individual character development and relationship development throughout the show was so satisfying.

The development of their universe and of all the other characters surrounding them was also very in depth!

2. Hua Cheng X Xie Lian - Heaven Official's Blessing

(First picture - Novels: Xie Lian on the left, Hua Cheng on the right / Second picture - Anime: Hua Cheng on the left, Xie Lian on the right)

A feared, powerful ghost king and the beloved prince of a nation; the thrice-ascended god of misfortune. This whole series had my heart so much that I ended up buying all the books so I could reread them T-T

Both characters are so sweet in their own ways, always protecting each other and could both kill anyone very easily all while looking like that.

3. Nakahara Chūya X Osamu Dazai - Bungou Stray Dogs

(First picture - Manga: Chuuya on top, Dazai on bottom / Second picture - Anime: Dazai on the left, Chuuya on the right)

An ex-mafioso turned armed detective and a mafia executive that have known each other since they were fifteen. Always teasing each other-- walking the line between allies and enemies, and yet there's nobody who knows the other better.

Although this miiiiiight count as more of a ship, the official manga arts lead me to believe it's very intentional :3

4. Nicholas "Nick" Nelson X Charlie Spring - Heartstopper

(First picture - Graphic novels: Nick on the left, Charlie on the right / Second picture - TV Series - Charlie on the left, Nick on the right)

Two high school boys in a sweet romance-- one the school's rugby star and the other a practical outcast. Aside from the typical teenage angst, both the novels and show had so many fluffy moments.

It was so satisfying to see the relationship develop as something very wholesome.

5. Alexander "Alec" Lightwood X Magnus Bane - The Shadowhunters series

(First picture - Official novel art: Alec on the left, Magnus on the right / Second picture - TV Series - Alec on the left, Magnus on the right)

A demon hunter and his warlock, angel blood meets literal spawn of hell. Instead of a necessary rivalry, they clicked rather easily.

One of my worst hyperfixations was definitely on the Shadowhunters series and any books related to the universe-- recently, these two even got their own side trilogy dedicated to a vacation the two took in book four of the original series! I adore their dynamic so much skdgskdga

That's it!

Thank you so much for the ask :3 (And if these are all mlm pairs. What are you going to say about it sdsggkagdsa)

[druckkugelschreiber]

Rules: Google and post the meaning of your OC’S name (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! bonus if you can find something for their last name too.

Thank you for the tag @judithmactir ! very excited to talk about my babies!

So, I'm not talking about all my OCs cause the gods know I have more than one person should, but a select few will be under the cut

Arae

Starting with Arae, who I do sadly not have a picture for, as I can't settle on a faceclaim and get a comission, but I'm going to link her fanfiction series I have up on Ao3 because she is my baby and is easily one of my most important OCs to me.

I handpicked her name for everything she goes through in the story and it means: "In Greek mythology, the Arae were female spirits of curses, particularly of the curses placed by the dead upon those guilty of their death"

Nydhena

Those who were with my in my Dragon Age hyperfixation of course know my baby. I made up her name myself and for over two years the scrap of paper where I brainstormed her name has been living on my desk (I thought I lost it, but it's right there all the time).

Nydhena is made up of the elvish for 'nydha' midnight and 'ena' blessing, so her name means Midnight Blessing, originally I wanted to go for something with Raven, due to her vallaslin, but it didn't sound as good as this one.

Theres

She's the main character of my latest big the old guard project. The origins and single meaning of her name are a bit indecisive, some examples are: the huntress, the animal that is hunted, sommer and or harvest. I can't settle on one meaning but huntress is very cool

Rieka

Gotta talk about her even though I'm not writing for her anymore. She's form a marvel fic and I handpicked her name for the meaning it carries: power of the wolf (it's one of the meanings)

I'll stop here because otherwise I will keep on talking forever about my OCs and their names. I'm very picky about my OCs names ^^

Honestly I wish I could have said something about Caliane but that name does not have a meaning on it's own. I have it from a book series i love to read (Guild Hunters) and it's fun and infuriating that the great name doesn't have a meaning I can find (I could probably find a derivative meaning but anyway)

[swadloom]

On and off hyperfixation of a game lost in the recesses of my room somewhere that two people talk about daily and it's specifically for the one specific arc and character that 5 people like. GOD BLESS!! 🦄 ✨ 😁 ♥