#So I will try to distract Frank from this post...

[askbradmajors]

Somebody isn't going to like this...

How does one create an online dating profile?

[pumpkinbxtch]

— your book vs. me ｡⁠:ﾟheadcanons

The HoO guys fight for your attention when you read, how do they do it?

warnings: actually none but maybe sexual suggestions (it's something very tiny) a/n: I still have my writer's block (Or something like that) but my mind is very imaginative. here you go. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ARE GOING TO SAY WHERE IS APOLLO? Excuse me, I'm going to compensate you in the following posts.

Percy:

This man is used to being surrounded by people who love to read.

He knows that if you're so immersed in it, he simply won't be able to pull you away unless the end of the world is around the corner (and even then, he wouldn't be sure you'd let go of the book).

Instead, he takes some things he can distract himself with and fiddles with them while lying on your legs. He loves that spot. While he's distracted with a fidget toy (one of the many he got in therapy for ADHD), he might catch some reactions as you read: when something makes you laugh, annoys you, or embarrasses you.

He loves watching you enjoy something you love.

Sometimes he'll rise and cover the book, and you give him a annoyed look. "Just a second, sweetheart," he assures and steals a kiss from your soft lips.

He hums softly before pulling away and lying back on your legs.

Jason:

Jason won't bother you, instead, as you're reading, he'll take you in his arms and sit you on his lap or position himself in a way that their bodies become intertwined.

He'll gently stroke your head or thighs, wanting to be with you but not interrupt your reading.

Sometimes he'll give you kisses on the cheek as you read, and you'll exchange sweet glances. Jason grabs one of his books, and they both immerse themselves in a comfortable, everyday, peaceful silence.

Frank:

Frank would never disturbe you while you're reading; he feels he couldn't cross that line.

However, he's eager to share moments with you so he ends up adjusting you onto him in a way that he can also see what you're reading and accompany you.

Sometimes he'll share certain comments under his breath—"I can't believe it," he says in amazement while waiting for you to turn the page—"Was it him all this time? He doesn't deserve her."

And you pause, turning towards him. Frank fears he might have bothered you, but instead, he gets a peck on the lips that throws him off balance, girl, you took his breath away, and you continue reading.

Sometimes he notices that what you're reading is a bit steamy, and he blushes.

Sometimes he clears his throat and lets out nervous giggles. When you look at him, he shakes his head slightly: "Did you know that could be done?" he asks,

and you end up suggesting that they could try it sometime.

Leo:

He can be gentle, cute, but not when he seems to need your attention. He'll want to try everything before giving up

, and even though he knows he'll probably lose, he doesn't miss the chance to show his affection in a thousand different ways.

He'll be singing for your attention: "Hey, look at me, look at me, I love you more than that book."

He'll jump on the bed and crawl towards you, some mischievous thoughts crossing his mind, "maybe this will work,"

and he'll settle between your legs and start kissing your knees and then the inside of your thighs.

When he sees it's not working, he moves away and lies down beside you.

He gives you repeated kisses on the cheek and steals some from your lips, but when he sees it's not provoking anything, that's when he finally gives up.

He flops onto the bed and pats his chest; that's the only thing you react to. In the end, all he wants is to have you close.

[courtingchaos]

I’ve been thinking about eddie who’s in the early pre relationship stages with you. but in his mind he’s married to you he’s been pining after you for so long. he doesn’t want to scare you though so he’s pumping the breaks and trying to take things slow.

you’re spending the night at his and he’s managed to keep enough distance from you that he deems respectful in his courtship of you. but when he wakes it’s to your hand high on his thigh, and you’re out for the count. and he’s hard as a rock and needs to move you before you wake up and see what state he’s in.

not wanting to wake you and alert you to his issue he thinks on his feet and decides he has to become soft asap, then he can move you. then if you wake up it’s not going to be to him feeling like a complete pervert.

so he’s reciting his favourite passages from all of the books he’s read.

only it’s not doing much. the pretty girl in his bed is winning this round.

he starts reciting them backwards to increase the difficulty and hopefully distract the ache away. but in his ingenuity to up the anti he’s inadvertently made it so tough that he’s now whisper shouting the words out loud. waking you. eddie still hard as a rock reciting poetry in a wicked order that makes no sense to man nor beast, is stopped abruptly in his tracks, gasping at the feel of your palm squeezing the meat of his inner thigh. Mortified and yet. Still painfully erect with no hope of going down anytime soon

sorry to vomit this at you but it seemed like fate that you’d asked for a request (this is far too long and detailed I’m sorry) and I was thinking about this at the same time

1. Don’t apologize, you’ve struck gold. You have not dug too greedily nor too deep.

2. You’ve written this really well so I could just post this with a bunch of reactions under it but, if you’ll allow me to expand upon this.

Picture this with me okay? He’s reciting Jabberwocky to himself. It’s a nonsense poem. He had an English teacher once give out a project for them to learn and recite a poem and of course he chose this. It has fun words in it like vorpal and borogoves. It’s become one of his bits actually when he’s trying to command a room.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:”

Everyone will sigh. Jeff and Gareth and Frank will drop their heads onto their desks or over the backs of their chairs in long groans. Dustin still thinks it’s fun, he hasn’t gotten tired of it yet, and Mike likes it he just won’t admit it. Eddie loves it though, likes the way slithy toves slides off his tongue when he puts on that creaking voice he uses for warlocks durning games.

Now though he mumbles it to himself in the dark, his ludicrous attempt at bringing down his mood. Something had woken him at the witching hour, 3:07 shining a bright green from across his room. He wasn’t cold, his window shut against the chill earlier when you’d come over. He wasn’t overheated, quite content with you softly cuddled up next to him. No itch or ill folded sheet causing him discomfort. He had seven solid minutes of waking, a few he spared to revel in the heat of you lying next to him. To feel your shoulder lying on his as you pressed your face into his pillow. Your knee bent up and almost over his own and your hand planted firmly on his thigh.

Oh. That.

Those fingers he liked to twirl around his own and lick salt off of when you were done with your fries? Those fingers were under the hem of his boxers and a very much pressing into the meat of his thigh. You don’t move except to breathe but all he can focus on is that hand literal inches from his dick. The dick he’d kept in check for weeks now in the hopes he wouldn’t chase you away with the absolute need he felt. Kind of like right now where it lays heavy and hot against his thigh just like your hand.

So Jabberwocky it is.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

But in the dark with a hard on, slithy toves makes him chuckle. Almost full on giggle and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Slithy toves sounds like a euphemism for pussy and he can’t help the huffs of laughter pushed through his nose. He looks down in the hopes that this has distracted his dick but apparently laughter makes him harder and he files that away to look into at a later date. Borogoves floats through his brain and he immediately thinks about giving your boobs a new nickname and he has to put a foot down for himself.

Next verse.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

Bandersnatch has to be a euphemism, there’s no goddamn way, it has the word snatch in it. He rolls his eyes and before he can sigh you shift beside him in your sleep, closer with your nose in his curls on his pillow and that soft hand he’s thought about when his own is too boring in the shower scoots another inch closer to the problem.

Maybe if he whispers it out loud?

“He took his vorpal sword in hand;-”

Absolutely not. Nope. New plan when he feels your sleeping breath across the front of his throat. It ghosts over his adams apple and all he can think about is your lips on his neck last week and how he’d pulled at his hair after you’d left just because it drove him insane.

Maybe if he recited it backwards it would confuse him enough all the blood would need to race back up into his brain.

“Outgrabe…raths…the-no…mome the and…” He’s squinting hard in the dark, reading invisible words on the ceiling in this new attempt to circumvent disaster.

“Borogoves…ha. Damn it. Borogoves…the were…mimsy all.” A headache is all this is giving him but for a moment he’s forgotten your hand and where it was. He’s searching the next line in his head and trying to jumble it so it isn’t so halting in the early morning quiet.

“Wabe the in gimble and gyer did!” He almost claps his hands when he makes it through without pause but he stops himself for fear of waking you up. Instead he spends 20 minutes working his way backwards through his poem, whispering to the night about the Jabberwock.

O frabjous day indeed when he realizes his dick is half soft now, not such a nuisance and a terror after he’s distracted himself. He thinks about waking you gently, a hand brushing your hair away from your face or running lightly over your leg but then you move. You move of your own accord and hook your leg over his. Kneecap bumping your hand higher and if he breathed wrong right this second you’d be brushing fingertips over his balls.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,”

He mutters without whisper. It’s not full volume speaking but he really doesn’t want you to wake up and find him hard and awake with your hand shoved up his shorts. As much as he would really love to feel your hands on him like that he’s been trying his best to be gentlemanly. Only necking on your timetable when you steal him away to a quiet corner. A little over the pants stuff, heavy petting but you’ve never pushed it and it won’t make you uncomfortable, no matter what his dick wants him to do.

“Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!”

Eddie sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hm?” You hum at him. A high note in the back of your throat that has him whipping his head to see you stirring. Adjusting to your side and dra-a-agging that hand. He doesn’t know what to do as you come around and blink up at him in the dark. He can see the edges of your expression from the light filtering in from outside, smooth brow and faint smile until it isn’t.

“Di’ yousay sumthin’?” Slurred against his shoulder where your mouth is pressed.

“Uh, kind of.”

“You okay?” You press up against him, your pelvis into his hip and he’s about to be caught. There’s no way you aren’t going to notice the outline in his boxers or the way he’s gotta be sweating gallons just in nerves.

“I…yeah?”

“What’s the ma-” You shift to prop yourself up so you can sleepily inspect him and he wants to subsequently die and sigh happily when your hand meets trouble. “Oh.”

Oh. Oh? Oh yeah, no big deal, it’s just his dick showing up to ruin the party like the world’s worst frat guy. “Look, I was trying to make it go away and I-“

“Why?” Having just woken up your voice is soft in a deep way. Scratchy from dry air but it fits the mussed hair and the rucked up t-shirt you have on. His gaze falls on the sliver of stomach that you’re showing off between the covers and he’s having a hard time coming up with an answer.

“Why?”

“Is there an echo in here?” You laugh and slide your palm over his stomach that tenses. “Yeah, why.” Your pinky catches the hem of his thin shirt and pulls it up to reveal his own section of underbelly. “We’re alone right?”

“Y-yeah.” It comes out like a hiss though because your nails scratch across that newly revealed skin and right over the trail of hairs below his belly button. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t uh, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Your fingers move back and forth over his stomach before you let them dip back down to the waistband of his boxers, fingertip seeking under the elastic ever so slightly. “You’ve been very patient Eddie.” The rings on your hand are body warm but hold a child to them when they glide over skin. “I think we just had a little misunderstanding at first though.” Fingers comb through wiry hairs on their search for their prize. “I’ve been trying to do this since you asked me out, but I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Oh my god, no. I mean yes, because I thought that’s what you wanted but I read into things too much sometimes bec-ause fuck.” He was running his mouth but then you’d grabbed him. Wrapped that dreamy hand around his cock and sighed into his cheek like you were the one experiencing earth shattering euphoria.

“Eddie I’ve wanted to do this for months.” A slow tug to the tip and you do something with your fingers that makes his mouth hang open in a silent plea. Another twist before you run your thumb over his slit and he grabs your wrist.

“This is gonna be over so quick if you keep that up.”

“Well that’s not so bad, I was still a little tired.” Highlights pick up the line of your lips and that sleepy smile that’s all for him. Heavy lashes flutter when he lets you go and shoves his shorts down to give you room to work. “You can get me back when we wake up.”

He throbs in your grasp at the promised idea of getting you back and all that entails. He can’t help himself but think of wet and warm places while your hand moves in languid strokes. Hot puffs of air across his chest where you lay your head to watch and then he’s watching you watching yourself and falling into a vortex of horniness. He wants to weave his fingers into your hair for some reason. Wants to feel the softness between his fingers while you rub velvet skin through your own.

“Eddie?” You pant into his shirt, lips catching and dragging on the cotton.

“Yeah?”

“What were you reciting?”

It almost pulls him out of his pleasure it’s jars him so. Briefly he thinks about lying and saying Shakespeare but you’re already giving him a 3 am handjob so he thinks he might not have to fib. “Jabberwocky.”

“Alice in Wonderland?” Your hand leaves his cock suddenly but he doesn’t get to whine about it before he’s whining about you licking your palm and getting back to work. He nods above you like you could see him but it earns him a chuckle from you and a stray few fingers that tug at his balls.

“God damnit yes.” He does push his hand into your hair then, the other fisting into the sheets beside him. You make a passing remark about reciting it then but he honestly might not even know his own name. The way his legs move restlessly against the bed and his fingers grip into your scalp. The damp slide of your palm over the head of his cock, the twisting motion you keep doing, it’s all rocketing him towards his finish. The burn of it in his belly clouding his senses and making him buck his hips up into your touch. The air of your breath keeps breezing over his overheated skin and your panting laughs are shoving him closer and closer until he’s squeezing his eyes shut and going stiff.

Warm lines splash up his stomach and he knows in a minute or two he’ll feel shame unmatched by man heretofore known but right now he couldn’t care. Soft hands drag him through the aftershocks while you make praiseworthy noises into his chest. You coo at him for a job well done and he can feel the heat rise on his cheeks. Sitting up again to look back at him your drag a finger through the mess he made and when you take three seconds to inspect it he doesn’t expect you to bring it to your lips.

“I-“ He what? What can he say while he watches you suck on your index finger like he does? When a slick grin hooks the corner of your mouth up into something devilish and he has an awakening at almost 4 am.

“How was that, huh? Glad we got that over with?” You drop your cheek to your shoulder to give him a smolder but Eddie needs to taste your lips after you’ve tasted him. It’s a need not a want so he rushes you, pushes you back into the bed and gets his mess everywhere but it doesn’t matter. He kisses you deep until you both have to come up for air and then he’s peppering your neck in them until your giggling is too much.

He uses his shirt to wipe himself off, promising a shower in the morning, and pulls both of you under the covers to conspire in the afterglow.

“Do you think reading that poem is gonna Pavlov you now?”

“How so?”

“I mean,” your laugh cuts into your explanation, “slithy toves kind of sounds like a name for-“

“Pussy! I know!” He laughs with you. “And Bandersnatch!”

[isaqlare]

BELLAAAAA i love whimsy reader sm she is so me... thinking abt her meeting art's frat bros Or Or her introducing art to some of her fav niche media... movies and songs and whatnot <3

charliee !! ur brain..gimme it because that’s brilliant. I decided to do both those ideas on this post !! hope u love it <3

meeting his friends ..

whimsical!reader x Stanford!art

Art Donaldson stood on the steps of his frat house, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek. The house behind him was already full of weekend noise: laughter, shouting, the bass-thump of someone’s overconfident playlist, and the faint smell of smoke and beer. He adjusted the sleeve of his hoodie and glanced down the sidewalk for the fifth time in a minute.

You hadn’t arrived yet, and that was both a relief and a source of rising panic.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to meet you. He wanted that. Desperately. But you weren’t like… well, anyone else who’d ever set foot inside his frat house.

You braided ribbons into your hair and layered glitter onto your cheeks like armor. You were all color and chaos and spontaneous dance breaks. And you were the best thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.

But his frat brothers? They didn’t do “whimsy.” They did beer pong, fantasy football leagues, and the same three Drake songs on loop. They’d never say anything cruel, not to his face, but he could already imagine the smirks, the side-eyes, the whispered “What is Art doing with her?” questions in the hallway.

He was mid-anxiety spiral when you came bouncing down the path in a flurry of movement and mismatched prints. Today’s tights were covered in cartoon bees and tiny handwritten words in sparkly ink—he didn’t even try to read them all. You wore a denim skirt layered over a long, shimmery tunic and an oversized pink windbreaker covered in enamel pins shaped like fruit and little aliens. Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

“Hi!” you chirped, out of breath from a light jog. “Sorry! Got distracted by a dog parade on campus. I had to cheer for every single one.”

He stared at you, stunned for a moment. Then he grinned. “A dog parade?”

You nodded seriously. “There was a corgi in a Batman cape. It felt wrong to ignore him.”

Art laughed, the sound easing some of the pressure in his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

You gave him a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. Ready to introduce me to the brotherhood of bland polos?”

“God help me,” he muttered. But he offered his hand, and you took it. Walking into the frat house was like entering a parallel universe. You paused in the doorway, blinking at the chaos—half a dozen guys crowded around the kitchen island, a pong table mid-game, sports highlights on three different mounted TVs.

You leaned into Art and whispered, “So many khakis. Are they… in a uniform?” Art winced but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

From across the room, one of the guys—big, shaggy-haired, wearing a backwards cap and an open hoodie—called out, “Yo, Donny! Is that the girl you’ve been hiding from us?”

Art gave a tight smile. “Yeah. This is—”

But you stepped forward first, all confidence and color and curiosity. “Hi!” you quickly introduced yourself, no hesitation in your manner. “You can call me whatever you like, as long as it’s magical.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then someone snorted. “Yo, is she serious?”

“She glitters, dude,” another whispered. “She has literal glitter on her cheeks.”

“She looks like a Lisa Frank sticker,” someone else muttered but that was a total compliment.

Art’s stomach twisted. But before he could say anything, you clapped your hands together and you grinned. “can we join some beer pong?”

And then, to his absolute shock, the guys laughed.

Loud, genuine, unfiltered laughter. Even the boy who once roasted a girl for bringing oat milk to a tailgate was cracking up.

“Where did you find her?” another asked Art, pointing a plastic cup at you like you were a museum exhibit.

“I was just standing there,” you added helpfully. “And he said, ‘Hey, you look like you belong in a dream sequence.’ Which is both confusing and flattering.”

“Bro, are you in love?” one guy whispered dramatically into Art’s ear. Art flushed. “Shut up.”

You were already drifting toward the kitchen, admiring the party snacks like they were some kind of art installation.

Art stood frozen by the door, watching you charm his frat with an ease he hadn’t expected. They were still laughing, and you were talking about frog-themed playlists and how you wrote poetry based on overheard conversations on the bus. They didn’t understand you, not entirely, but they were entertained. Engaged. One even asked you to help plan the next party theme.

Art finally breathed again. You turned back toward him, your face glowing, and shot him a wink.

He crossed the room to stand beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m thriving,” you said, bumping his shoulder. “They’re nicer than I thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “But then again, you’re here. So I should’ve known.”

His heart clenched, too full and too fast. He reached down, laced your fingers through his. Later that night, as you danced barefoot in the living room to some forgotten ‘80s song while half the frat watched in amusement and mild awe, Art realized something:

They didn’t need to understand you completely because he did. And he was never letting go.

showing him your favorites ..

Art Donaldson had never seen so many pillows in one room.

He stood frozen in your doorway, gym bag still slung over one shoulder, as his eyes swept over the whimsical chaos of your dorm. A disco ball hung from a hook on the ceiling fan, casting little sparks across the walls. The bed was a mess of mismatched blankets, crocheted throws, and pillows shaped like cats, mushrooms, and—was that a possum?

There were books stacked sideways on every available surface, and a tiny projector pointed at a blank white tapestry tacked above your desk. The scent of lavender incense floated through the air. He felt like he’d stepped into a storybook, and he wasn’t sure if he was the love interest or just a very confused background character.

You peeked around the corner with a beaming smile and a mug of tea. “You're here!”

“I am,” he said, eyes still adjusting to the sensory overload. “I think I entered a different dimension.”

“That’s the goal,” you said, plopping the mug down and clapping your hands together. “Okay, okay, I’ve been dying to show you some of my favorite things. Are you ready to have your worldview shifted?”

Art smiled nervously, toeing off his shoes. “You mean like movies?”

you awkwardly giggled, “something..like that?”, he nervously chuckled. You quickly laid him on your bed and first up was..

My Ex Was Replaced By An AI And It Was Kind Of Hot?” — a semi-satirical, semi-heartbreaking TikTok miniseries.

In it, a girl falls in love with a deepfake of her emotionally unavailable ex-boyfriend generated by an AI filter. She talks to him in the mirror every night. By Episode 3, the AI starts giving her advice about healing and ghosting herself. Episode 5 ends with her deleting the app while he pleads, “Please don’t forget the version of me that loved you best.”

Art sat in stunned silence. “That… wasn’t what I expected,” he said finally.

“She submitted it as her thesis,” you whispered reverently. “Performance art.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, half-laughing. “No,” you said, completely serious.

Next up .. “Local Cryptid Radio” — a YouTube channel with 13k subscribers that uploads lo-fi, dreamlike horror podcasts set in a town where the moon occasionally leaves the sky and children are born already aged ten.

The host speaks in soft, garbled tones, interspersed with poetry and ads for non-existent snacks like Moth Milk.

You curled up closer to Art as the static hummed through the speaker. He had no idea what was happening. But you kept mouthing along to the radio’s eerie refrain: “If the woods are quiet, you’re the loudest thing left.”

He looked down at you and whispered, “What does that even mean?”

You smiled. “Everything.”

this was your personal favorite , “Soft Apocalypse, Vol. 2” — a 12-minute Vimeo animation you’d downloaded in case it got deleted again.

It was a dialogue-free pastel collage of a robot making tea in a crumbling greenhouse while the world around it slowly dissolved. The last frame showed the robot setting a cup of tea down for someone who never came.

When it ended, Art said nothing. Just reached out, laced his fingers through yours.

“Did it make you feel weird inside?” you whispered. He nodded.

“Good.”

After the final piece (a surreal fashion show where models wore anxiety as couture and one cried real glitter), you paused the projector and turned to him, earnest.

“I know this stuff is weird,” you said, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. “It’s just—it makes me feel seen. It’s not perfect or polished or… normal. But it’s sincere. It’s people screaming into the void and making it beautiful.”

Art reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “I get it.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Not every reference. But… the why of it? I do. You like things that don’t pretend. You like mess that means something. And honestly?” He smiled, soft and real. “I like watching you light up more than I need to understand the plot.”

You melted a little. Okay, a lot.

Later, you made him a playlist called “Things That Feel Like That Robot in the Greenhouse” and he actually listened. Sending you a text that said..

“thanks for the playlist, I’m in love. <3”

[would-they-listen-to-that]

How to Make a Self-Ship Playlist (when you're too afraid to ask)

hey there! you! yeah, you, lurking in the f/o tag, i see you. so you wanna make a self-ship playlist but don't know where to start? welcome to "would-they-listen-to-that" radio, ran by a self-shipping veteran! this post is a special request from an anonymous caller, so let's get into it! how do we make a self-ship playlist when we have zero idea what we're doing?

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ STEP ONE: BLORBO ROULETTE ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

The first step is to pick someone who catches your eye! Who's that fictional character lurking in the back of your mind? Who have you thought about snuggling with to distract yourself from the monotony of a three-hour geometry lecture? Whose tag did you take a "casual stroll" down last night? If you've got someone in mind from those questions alone, there's your target!

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ STEP TWO: DATING ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

No, not that kind of dating. I'm talking about historical dating! The time period your character comes from influences the music they listen to! Are they a vampire from the late 1980's? Try some early trad-goth bands and hair metal! Are they a magical girl from the early 2000's? Try some y2k girl groups and rnb! "But mod, what if my character is anachronistic, and their whole shtick is they act like a 1940's jazz singer yet they live in 2020?" If you somehow catapulted Ella Fitzgerald into the nowadays, don't be afraid to be anachronistic with your playlist! Billie Holiday can go right next to Billie Eilish!

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ STEP THREE: SOUNDING IT OUT ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

If your f/o has one, listen to their soundtrack for inspiration! What genres are present in their soundtrack? If they sing, in what style? What do they sing about? What kinds of music reflect their environment? If the character has any musical inclination or is a fan of certain musicians, take that into account! If your blorbo is a canon Weezer fan or sings along to Frank Sinatra, that gives a strong basis of what they listen to.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ STEP FOUR: ULTRASOUND ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

That's right, you gotta look inside yourself. You're a character in this self-ship too. It takes two (at least) to tango! Find songs that are meaningful to you. What types of music do you enjoy? What songs do you believe are integral to your relationship with your blorbo? What songs describe your feelings towards them? If you have an enemies-to-lovers relationship, look into songs that have a similar theme. Don't be afraid to explore new music too! Who knows what you might find? There's always an opportunity to hear your new favorite song!

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ STEP FIVE: BE FREE ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

Seriously, cringe culture is dead. If it's not, I'm giving you and your f/o hammers so you can kill it. You're allowed to have fun with fiction. The FBI isn't gonna swarm your house because you wanted to give Batman a kiss. It sounds cheesy, but the first (and only step really) to making a self-ship playlist is to have fun and be yourself. You don't need to listen to this post! I'm not the be-all end-all of self-shipping! Whether you take my advice is totally up to you! There really are no wrong answers here!

If you made it this far into the yap session, thank you so much for reading! I hope this advice serves you well! If not, that's okay too! As always,

thanks for dialing in!

[httpssturns]

Kiss

in which Nick's yapping gets silenced in the sweetest way by reader.

notes: cuteness, fluffy, Nick tangent, if you're a girl pretend you're a dude reading this, kissing, comfy core, sleepy vibe, idiots in love, sunshine x moon vibes, my first nick fic.

When Nick started speaking, he could talk.

It doesn't matter what topic it is; if he's comfortable, he could ramble for hours.

And that's exactly what he's been doing. Ever since you got out of work he's been plopped next to you on the little fort you both made together, nestled into your side as he buzzed about anything and everything on his mind.

“...Can you fucking believe that? The audacity of her to offer me lemon ups. Fucking lemon ups! And she said that she watches our videos, that's so obvious bullshit.” Nick rambles, his arms flailing in animated gestures as he talks about someone he was potentially going to collab with, keyword: was.

“I don't get how people like her, she's so fake on camera, but in real life she's just a bitch. Not to be rude or anything, but she was genuinely so stuck up—the shade was crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, and kiss his temple gently. You weren't really a speaker, you liked listening. Especially to him—and that's why you both went together so well.

“God, I should've never agreed to collab with her. I think I'm going to cancel it, Matt and Chris don't even want to meet her after I told them about how she is. I was literally not even being dramatic, she sounds like a pick me and to be quite frank—she was pissing me the fuck off.” Nick continues to talk about how frustrating it was to meet with this woman, going on and on about how she was this, how she was that.

It honestly made you feel a little bad, you never wanted your boyfriend to have to endure frustrating or draining situations, even though you had no control over it.

But at least you had the ability to distract him from it.

You cup Nick's jaw, turning his face towards yours before capturing his lips in a loving but passionate kiss. Your lips together moved in harmony, soft breathing coming from Nick through his nose.

The two of you pull away, and Nick—breathless and dazed—asks you a question, seemingly forgetting about his whole tangent.

“What was that for?”

All you could is laugh at the question, cupping his face in your hands before pecking his lips again before answering.

“just trying to distract you baby, we’re supposed to be cuddling, not complaining about people unworthy of our time.” you murmur softly against his temple.

Nick's lips turn up into a soft smile, and he murmurs back; “Maybe you're right, but when it's my complain time again I'm finishing this.”

He nestles back into your side, and the rest of the night is filled with soft, loving silence and little whispers between the two of you, just basking in each other's love instead of the problems you two have.

୨♡୧ @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers ୨♡୧

☆ soph's notes: this is low-key buns but I really wanted to post a nick fic 😞 I hope you guys like it anyway 🫶

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ @sugarraez @ribbonlovergirl @slvt4subchratt @bernardsbendystraws @sturnsblogs @oopsiedaisydeer @backwardshatnick @izzylovesmatt @viviansturns @courta13 @coquettechris @matts-wife @matts-babytomatoes @whore4chris @ilsaxdemi @bambi-cloud9

[writeraquamarinara]

not exactly long enough to post on ao3, so I'm dropping this here (below the cut)—it's a little kingdon drabble, inspired by the fact that it's been pouring buckets outside my apartment for two days straight <3

She’s fidgeting with her hands, as far as he can see—squeezing her right hand’s knuckles with her left thumb and index, before settling them back down in her lap. Then they’re back up near her chest, fidgeting again.

He can’t see much else. He could see, really, if he was okay with getting them both into a car accident. But he’s not, obviously. So he keeps staring at the road ahead, content with taking brief glances to his right.

“Everything okay?” he finally asks, when the concern weighs a little too heavily. His bones ache, and not just because of the impending storm bearing down on Pittsburgh.

It’s a silly question. Things are never exactly okay after a shift at PTMC. And this one had been particularly bad. She hadn’t even put up her usual fight when he’d offered her a ride to Becca’s center.

When she responds with a soft hum, he turns to watch her. Her face is turned away from him, and she’s staring outside, through the passenger window. And then Frank swears, under his breath, because his car’s drifting into the right lane without his permission. He jerks the wheel back to the left. 

The winds pick up around them, slamming into the car as it attempts to climb one of Pittsburgh’s infamous hills. Mel finally turns to him, and Frank knows without looking that her face is scrunched up—the way it looks when she wants to say something while Santos is presenting a case and Mel isn’t sure if she’s allowed to jump in.

“It’s going to start raining, Frank,” she tells him, and he doesn’t respond. There’s more to this thought, and she needs the space to process it.

After a beat, she starts again. “Maybe we should pull over.”

Other cars on the road have their headlights on, and Frank flicks his on as well. The winds haven’t stopped howling. But he doesn’t let his foot off the gas.

“Becca’s waiting, right? We stayed late as it is.”

After a last minute IABP insertion, Frank had wandered the floor in search of Shen, or anyone on night shift, to hand off his patients. Mel had stayed behind too. She was talking down a distraught single mother whose little girl lay wrapped up in the bed behind them, awaiting surgery. It was a shitty case to end the day on—the odds of her pulling through were, well, not fucking good.

“Becca can wait a little,” Mel tries. Her voice has a pitch to it that he can’t place. But a thunderclap shakes the air around them, water falls out of the sky like some sort of dam broke above them, and Frank gets distracted.

“Jesus.” Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, and he’s staring straight ahead of him. The windshield wipers are going fucking crazy.

“Really, Frank—”

“Mel,” he says, through gritted teeth—someone nearly cuts him off trying to make a left turn—“we’ll get to Becca, and everything will be fine.”

But when he turns his head, a quick glance, Frank’s foot nearly slams on the brake. She’s crying, her lower lip quivering as she wipes the tears from her cheeks with her hands. Frank pulls over as soon as there’s an opening next to the curb.

“It’s not fine, Frank, the roads are slippery, and—” she hiccups through a sob, “and we could get hurt, people get hurt all the time. And people are dying, Anna—Anna is dying, even though I did everything I could—” she takes a heaving breath.

Anna, the burn victim awaiting primary excision, her last patient of the day.

He watches her eyebrows pinch together as another sob racks through her chest, and Frank has never felt so wretched in his life. He should have pulled over earlier, but all he can do now is frantically search the car’s compartments for the tissues he keeps in here for his kids. 

Normally he would reach for her, wrap her in his arms and murmur reassurances into her hairline, but it’s hard to do with the center console between them.

He reaches out instead, and takes her trembling hands in his. She’s looking down into her lap, the tears still coming.

“Mel, listen to me.” She pulls one of her hands out of his to wipe at her eyes, and he uses his newly freed hand to tip her chin up. When his eyes catch hers, they’re shining, watery, and—god—so incredibly beautiful.

“Sweetheart,” she cries a little harder at that, and he squeezes her hand hard. “You did everything you could. It was a tough way to go out today, but you handled it. And I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”

“We can’t know, but you gave that little girl the best shot at pulling through.” He rubs at her jawline a little, smiling softly when she finally closes her eyes and takes a breath. “I’ll call Walsh in the morning, for an update. How does that sound?”

She nods at him, slowly coming back to herself. The rain continues to pound on the roof of their car, but now Frank finds it somewhat soothing.

He says what he should’ve said before, when she first suggested pulling over.

“We can call Becca’s center—we’ll stay here as long as you want.”

“Just a bit,” she hedges, and he wishes she’d said forever, instead. But he can’t tell her that—not while Abby’s waiting for him at home.

And when lightning floods the street with light, he can’t help but notice how it bounces off the gold band sitting slightly askew on his left hand. He doesn’t look up to see if she notices it too.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Sneak Peek

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

A/N : Here's the first little sneak peek at my next Billy fic. I'm going with something slightly different for the reader character this time, so I hope you like what I've got planned. The first chapter will be posted on the 31st of January, and I'll be updating weekly. If you've already asked to be tagged, I'll tag you in the first chapter!

Sneak Peek

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult. 

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”

[truearichu]

MOONLIGHT - JJK

synopsis

In which Jungkook slips through the crowds and against your better judgment, your defense. or, once every four thousand nine hundred ninety-two years, Pluto meets Neptune.

pairing/au | freelancer!jungkook x f. reader

warnings | other than foul language- none here!

wc | 1324

playlist | strawberries & cigarettes - Troye Sivan & you and me - JENNIE

!! cross posted on wattpad !! m, dni

"If you ask me, which no one ever thinks of doing- what's up with that?"

Jeongguk tilts his head as he continues to listen to you. What the fuck did I just get myself into ? he thinks. All he'd done was ask if you knew the directions to Hendrickson Street. Wanted to try new desserts in a new cafe that recently opened up, maybe flirt with a girl or two while he's at it.

Instead, he got distracted by the exquisite lights of New York. Having never been to this part of town, he wanted to soak it all in. By the time he noticed, all of his friends had moved along.

He hadn't meant to upset you (he's a polite kid, mind you), let alone get an earful on how you have no clue where you are. Figuratively and literally, he supposes.

You think you're doing him a favor by giving him guidance in the form of what he should not do. He thinks this is an example of why exactly no good deed goes unpunished.

"Actually, I know the answer, it's 'cause they think I'm stupid. Which, let me get this straight, I'm not fuckin' stupid , I'm lazy. There's a goddamn difference! 'Parently, Daddy thinks this 'journey' will straighten me out. Straighten me out!"

If there's one thing you should know about Jeongguk, it's that he likes making assumptions. Assumes and assumes. Gets himself in trouble all the time. Creates his own problems. Likes solving them too. Makes him feel like a detective with his own little case.

From your fifteen minute vent, he'd made a few assumptions. Firstly, he assumes that you’re drunk. There’s a sweetness to you, from your slurring to the way you lean on him for support. 

Assumes this makes you feel important--offering your opinion you probably have no right to give. Figures you probably fucked up big time–a trust fund kid gone rogue–but, instead of getting away with it, you're paying the price. Likes that you're also struggling. That it's not just him who is failing to keep his head above the water because he never learned how to swim.

Dislikes how your trash is his treasure. (Regardless, you're both stuck in it). New York's been his escape, his new identity, his new problem that he's trying to solve. Yet that same place couldn’t be more different for you. He feels a little bad, a little upset at the fact that your mistake haunts you in the form of nooks and crannies all over Brooklyn.

Feels a little embarrassed too. He has to be the one to listen to your vent instead of your friends. Maybe you don't have real friends either. In that way, he supposes, you two are similar. Would make a good title : Runway Thief and a Banished Princess .

"Same Daddy who's never given me a reason to work now getting upset that, that, what, I don't work?! 'You bring shame to our family name'. I bring shame to our family name ?!"

Fully acting out the night this all went down, exhaustion creeps into your voice. You could be an actor, Jeongguk thinks, could also be a director. Would suit you, having your ideas come to life. Assumes that you're good at storytelling. Could probably make any story interesting regardless of the actual content. To be frank, he is now a little interested. Tries not to look it, but he's wondering why exactly you're here.

You've been talking and talking, but no real words are coming out. Just blabbering for the sake of blabbering. Making him feel as if he knows everything about you, even though you've really only told him you're a trust fund baby.

'S why he's beginning to like you. You force him to make assumptions so can feel as if he understands a world that he otherwise would not get a chance to understand. Maybe you're trying to get everything out because when's the next time anyone's going to care?

"Baekho could probably burn this house down and everything in it and Daddy would still look at him as if he's oh so smart and just so kind and just so perfect! Not a disgrace, I'm sure!"

Baekho ? Name sounds familiar. Rich kids' names always sound familiar. Wonders what your name is. From the looks of you, he could tell you don't belong. Not here. Maybe not anywhere. But especially not in the clustered alleyway with graffiti as its monument. Not with smells of urine and cigarette butts scattered across the plaza where you both are seated now.

Plaza's always crowded.

Funny.

How, of all the people he could've asked regarding the whereabouts of Cafe Mami , he chose you. Feels kind of nice to be chosen despite knowing there's no significance about it.

You don't really dress rich, another reason why Jeongguk figures you are. Why prove something that doesn't need proving? You look secure. Probably always have been: financially, socially, mentally. Probably always had your place. Probably always felt crucial. Like everything revolved around you: people, opportunities, the sun.

S' the same reason you hate the bustling streets of New York. Hate the way everybody talks the walk and walks the walk like they own this place. Not used to being a footnote, and having no one to express why exactly you loathe this place, all your frustrations have been building. Droplets of wrath have been filling your pot.

They have been for a while now. It was just a matter of time before they overflowed.

"Oh if I'm just so horrible, then why don't just go ahead and disown me?! I'm trying my best but that's not enough! Never enough!"

With a loud pant, you droop back to the seat. Finished ranting, the post-vent realization comes to you. Oversharing, you're used to. Secrets had always slipped your mouth after a drink or two. The reason for that was because money could hush. Who would dare to let your sacred words be spread unless you didn't want them to?

There's an intensity to how Jeongguk looks at you, as if you're losing it, as if he can read you through the facade you've perfected over the years. Anything about losing agitates you. You've already lost your college degree, money, family, yourself, your way. Is there more? Your mind is the only thing you have left. Your experiences. Your moments that will stick like sweat on a summer day. Will that soon be gone too?

Though, looking vulnerable is a nice change. So scared of making mistakes like the one you just made, it's freeing to know the result of your actions. Maybe next time you make a mistake, you'll be sent to Korea. Who cares? Korea's pretty.

Probably have family there anyway. Family who zoned out while "listening" to the words of your oh so wonderful father who apparently believes banishing their child is the best form of punishment. Or, if they did listen, still probably wouldn't care enough to follow through. Thinking of family, or lack thereof now, makes your wrath rise all over again.

Sighing, you realize you hadn't really taken a moment to look at the boy. He looks just like you now: a commoner, a name that blends in, associated with the crowd. Yet at the same time, he stands out. An exquisite light. Maybe, just like how you once were. Pretty platinum blonde hair, emerald eyes, mole right under his lips. But he has Asian features: small face, monolid eyes, honey kissed skin. A mix maybe?

"Sorry?" Jeongguk mutters, feeling heat creep up to the back of his neck from your examination on his face. His voice is higher than you expected. Could be a singer, K-Pop idol maybe, you assume. Jeongguk isn't the only one who likes making assumptions.

"Uh, walk straight, take a left. No, right. Just wherever you see the streetlight with stickers on top. Cafe Mami will be right around the corner." 

  ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

a few more notes ||

this was originally planned out to be a series, unfortunately, that did NOT happen. but I did want you all to see where I was kinda going with this? I didn’t really like how it turned out, hahaha !! there is no resolution, more of a collision between two broken people xx

[cupidjyu]

happy with you

sangyeon x reader

when life gets particularly overwhelming, your boyfriend is always there to distract you.

genre: established relationship, hurt/comfort, burnout, kisses and hugs, sweetie understanding perfect boyfriend sangyeon notes: reader is lowkey me during the time i was gone and busy with school ,, 💕 this is for @winterchimez since we’re both going through sangyeon withdrawals 😞😞 word count: 3.9k

One, two… three…

Your hand lifts up before it comes back down onto the soft sheets of your bed. You hum to yourself. Well, it’s a start, you think before taking a deep breath and counting once again.

One, two, three.

You lift your arm this time. But you find yourself frowning at how it feels like it’s been weighed down by heavy, stubborn weights. You let out a frustrated groan as your head falls back onto the headboard. Shutting your eyes momentarily, you try to find some sense of peace, anything to help get rid of the stupid pounding in your heart, much more burdening than your heavy limbs that refuse to move. Yet, the darkness that you see only makes it worse.

You blink your eyes open and stare at the wall of the bedroom. Your gaze wanders across the blank space until it lands on a small photo, framed and perched perfectly so that it’s one of the first things you see when you wake up. It’s a picture of your boyfriend, Sangyeon, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You’re smiling and so is he. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to recreate that same smile, yet your face feels numb.

Then, you lift your head slightly to stare at the mess of the bed you created over the span of just a day. There’s a book, thrown off to the side, with only a few pages read. Then, there’s your computer, still at ninety percent because you only used it for a good thirty minutes. Your phone is beside you. It’s open to one of your social media apps yet you liked one single post so far.

You’ve tried everything to be somewhat productive, to do something with the free day that you have. You wanted to distract yourself from your racing mind yet nothing has worked and you continue to feel awfully restless. 

To be frank, your week full of stress and despair is over. The countless assignments that you needed to turn in, the group project that didn’t get done until the very last day, the coworker who had belittled you… technically, it was all over. You should feel relieved, really, but instead you feel agitated and unable to relax. It’s almost like the adrenaline that has coursed through your body during that week still hasn’t left, leaving you anxious, almost paranoid.

You blink back a few tears and let out a low sigh. 

There’s nothing you can do.

So you just wait.

Wait for what? You wonder.

Your eyes land on that picture again. Maybe… Sangyeon? He is coming home soon, after all. Your heart skips a beat at the thought, but it settles back into its normal pace soon after. You would hate to bother him, especially because he was supposed to be practicing today.

The image of his worried face is what leads you to slowly lift your body out of bed. It’s difficult and heavy, but you manage to do it. You yawn and stand up, your muscles feeling tight. Maybe you should find something else to keep you busy so that when Sangyeon comes home, he won’t notice your previous state.

You nod to yourself and walk out of the bedroom, setting your mind on organizing the kitchen drawers. But, as soon as you begin walking down the hall, you find Sangyeon exiting the bathroom, his hair slightly damp as he dries it with a towel. 

You freeze.

Huh.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear him come home and wash up.

Sangyeon notices you almost immediately, and just as quickly, his eyes light up. He sets the towel down nearby and walks over to you like an eager puppy. Your heart thumps, which is a little funny because the two of you have been dating for a while, long enough to move in together and spend every lovely morning and evening as a pair.

Then, he immediately pulls you into a hug, scooping you into his arms as he nuzzles into your neck. Your breath halts for a second before you melt into his hold. Though it takes all your strength to try not to burst into tears right then and there. He smells good, fresh from a shower and just like home. 

A few moments pass before Sangyeon leans away and gives you a quick kiss.

“I missed you,” he whispers, his voice full of warmth. He always says this. He could spend a mere hour away from you, and he’ll still tell you about how much he was thinking of you. His hand comes up to your hair, and he soothingly strokes his fingers through it. “How was your day, beautiful?”

Your chest feels tight as you look away. “It was great,” you lie. “Quite boring actually. I’ve done literally nothing today.” Well, that isn’t a lie.

Sangyeon only smiles wider. “Relaxing is also good, you know.” His eyes soften, and he swipes a thumb under your eye, as if he’s noticed how tired you are. “I’ve noticed how hard you’ve worked this past week.”

You give him a weak smile and shake your head, already feeling nervous about burdening him with concern. “That’s just… how it is. There’s nothing to worry about.”

That doesn’t seem to help, as Sangyeon only gives you a careful look. But, he doesn’t mention it anymore as he says, “If you say so.”

The two of you just stare at each other, almost awkwardly and unsurely. Your heartbeat picks up, anxiously, your mind racing about how he’s noticed and he’s going to be bothered.

Sangyeon almost always notices when you’re feeling off. It’s almost like some sort of superpower. He can tell you’re uncomfortable at a social event, and he’ll subtly pull you closer to him. He can tell when you’re tired, and he’ll offer his shoulder for you to lean on.

It’s pretty clear that he’s noticed now.

But he’s not saying anything about it.

It’s perplexing, but at the same time, you feel a little relieved, knowing that if you started talking about it at this moment, you’d probably burst out into tears.

“Well, gorgeous,” Sangyeon speaks up with a soft tone. “I’m free for the rest of the evening. Anything you want to do?”

You let out a sigh, your chest lightening. Then, you think for a moment. Is there anything you wanted to do? You give him a shy look. Really, you just wanted to spend time with him, however that may be.

Sangyeon laughs, giving you a teasing look. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Hm?” You step away with a small smile. “What am I thinking?”

Your boyfriend shrugs, but you can tell he’s eager to say it. He’s always eager to give you attention, no matter the circumstance. When he’s working at home and you stop by to give him a kiss, again, like an eager puppy, he’ll excitedly turn his head and ask for another one. If he’s tired and it’s late at night, but he sees that you’re still up working, he’ll stay with you. Sometimes, he’ll watch you with an admiring face, which makes you a little nervous at times.

He steps forward and leans in. “You want to be with me.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the hot feeling that spreads across your face. “Of course I do. We’re dating.”

“That’s true.” Sangyeon gives you a proud look.

“Well, is there anything you want to do?”

“I want to be by your side, my gorgeous.” He grins. 

“Doing what?”

He pauses and gives you a sheepish look. “I didn’t get that far in my plans.”

You burst out laughing as you reach for the nearby towel and begin to finish drying off his hair. He leans into your touch as he looks at you with complete endearment.

“I’ll think of something, just give me a moment.”

You smile at him. “Take your time, mister.” You continue to dry his hair as you take the opportunity to admire your boyfriend’s handsome face up close. It doesn’t help that he looks adorably focused, thinking of something to do with you. Sometimes, you wonder how you’ve gotten so lucky. 

“Ah,” he breathes. You pause, letting your hand fall to your side, still holding onto the towel. Sangyeon looks down and takes it from you, setting it on the bathroom handle before taking your hand in his. “Well, you know how I went to practice my singing today?” He asks with a smile.

You nod because yes, he always likes to relay his plans for the day to you before he leaves the apartment, which you find endearing.

“Mhm, what about it?”

“I took some videos of the new songs I was practicing. They’re on my phone, and I need to monitor them. If you want to… with me…” He gives you a hopeful look. He’s shy as well. He’s always shy when it comes to his singing, which is a little baffling because his voice is beautiful. In fact, it was one of the main reasons why you had such a large crush on him.

“Of course,” you answer. Just as shyly, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering into his ear, “I’d love to.”

Sangyeon gives you an excited look. “Just… don’t judge if my voice cracks. Some of the songs were kind of out of my range.” 

You giggle as he tugs your hand and leads you in the direction of your shared bedroom. But, just as you’re about to reach the door, you freeze and your breath hitches, remembering that you’ve left all your failed attempts of distracting yourself–the book, computer, your phone, probably a few unopened snacks–on the bed.

Sangyeon notices your hesitance and instead of asking what’s wrong, he opens the door, peeks into the room, and turns back to face you. He gives you a gentle, soothing smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the very tip of your nose. Then, without a word, he enters the room and proceeds to pick everything up off the bed. He puts the book back on its shelf, sets your computer and your phone on the bedside table, and places the snacks on the desk.

You watch, completely shocked, as he sits down on the bed and gestures to you to join him. 

“I…”

Sangyeon grins. “What are you waiting for, darling?”

You let out a shaky breath at the nickname before carefully walking over to the bed, sitting next to him. You gulp nervously. “Sorry for not cleaning up.”

“It’s no problem at all. I’m always going to be here.” For you. “To help you clean up.” But, you know what he really means.

You nod quietly and sit back against the headboard, trying to forget the fact that previously, you’ve sat here for hours, wallowing in a feeling that you couldn’t even describe. You watch as Sangyeon pulls out his phone and turns on the first video.

“Are you ready?” Sangyeon asks, a shy smile on his face.

“Always.”

“Don’t expect too much.”

You giggle. “Okay, handsome.”

Intrigued, you scooch closer, and Sangyeon welcomes you, leaning his shoulder against yours. In the video, he’s in the studio, looking at what you assume is a screen with the lyrics. He sings beautifully into the microphone in his hand. You can already feel your chest lighten as you admire him, his everything–from his lovely voice, handsome face, and soft gaze. He messes up the lyrics a few times, yet that only makes it more perfect. He’s perfect.

The first video comes to the end and Sangyeon nervously turns to you. You look up at him and give him an encouraging smile.

“So… what did you think?” He asks with his soft voice, one that you know is capable of making any song sound beautiful.

“I think… it was beautiful as always.”

It’s adorable how Sangyeon brightens up, and you can tell he’s feeling proud. Soon enough, his smile softens, and he looks at you as if trying to read your expression for something more. You gulp and look away, praying he won’t notice that you were just a mess when he wasn’t home. You can see that hint of concern in his gaze as clear as day.

But then, to your surprise, he leans in and kisses the very top of your forehead.

“You’re beautiful as always.”

Your eyes widen, and you can feel your cheeks start to redden. You clear your throat and turn to look down at your lap.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I’ve… heard that a lot already.”

You feel a finger under your chin, nudging you to look back up. He hums teasingly as your eyes meet his. “From only me, I hope,” he says with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, only you.” 

“Good,” Sangyeon replies. Then, he swipes to the next video.

Again, you watch, though your eyes begin to droop as you focus more on listening to your boyfriend’s voice, like honey, and so full of emotion. It’s a love song too–the words he’s singing seem to be directed towards you. It doesn’t help that he’ll look away from the screen and instead, straight at the camera, making your heart flutter foolishly.

Soon enough, the video ends, and you realize that you feel relaxed. Your body doesn’t feel stiff, rather, it melts against Sangyeon’s side. Your breathing isn’t fast either. Instead, it’s slow and perfectly in sync with your lover beside you. It’s a slow rise and fall, and you start to feel warm inside.

Sangyeon turns to you, even leaning a little forward so that he can get a good view of you. He always does this, saying that you’re “too beautiful not to stare at.”

“Good?” He asks, his voice a calming whisper.

“Mhm.” You give him a shy smile. “Keep going.”

“As you wish, beautiful.” 

You laugh quietly as you lean your head against his broad shoulder, taking your first, long and full breath of the day. You can’t help but smile contentedly as your boyfriend shows you the rest of the videos he’s taken. Sometimes, you can feel him cringe at one of his own mistakes. Other times, he’ll mention a particular lyric that reminded him of you. One time, he pressed a kiss to your lips for the fun of it.

It’s calming–so calming that you can feel yourself dozing off. Just as your eyes are about to shut, you hear a loud clatter come from his phone. In the video, you see that something small and shiny was just knocked off the table.

You widen your eyes momentarily before smiling fondly at the way Sangyeon gives the camera an apologetic look before ending the video.

“I forgot to delete this one,” Sangyeon grumbles to himself. “This song was hard to sing anywa– oh!” He interrupts himself before turning to you. “I completely forgot. That thing… it was a keychain that I bought for you.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with surprise. 

Sangyeon looks adorably excited. He always loved to surprise you with gifts after all.

“I can go get it for you right now… if you want?” 

You nod with a soft smile.

And so, Sangyeon gets off the bed, and that’s when you feel his comforting warmth leave you like a candle flame being abruptly blown out. You try to ignore the odd hitch of your breath, but it soon becomes clear that that feeling has come back. It’s hard to describe still, but it’s a mix of restlessness and hopelessness. Suddenly, you’re reminded of everything that’s gone wrong these past few days. Your eyes frantically dart around the room, remembering everything that you’ve failed to do today as well.

You regret that nod.

Desperately, and without even thinking, you reach out and grab hold of Sangyeon’s hand. You feel yourself tremble, and your heartbeat is picking up again.

“Wait,” you whisper, looking up at him. You’re already feeling your throat close up, embarrassingly enough. Sangyeon turns around in response, and his expression is full of worry. 

“Hm?”

“I…” Your voice cracks, and you feel mortified. What were you thinking? 

And that’s when you feel the tears begin to well up in your eyes.

You can just barely hear the small intake of breath that Sangyeon takes in at the sight. Quickly, he’s already kneeling down at the side of the bed, looking up at you with soft, gentle eyes. His gaze is full of concern as he watches the tears begin to dribble down your face.

“Y/n,” he whispers. “You can tell me what’s wrong. If you’d like to. I’ll listen, always.”

“I thought you already noticed,” you whisper. 

Sangyeon’s eyes widen before he reaches over for your hand, taking it in his. “I did. But I didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong. Not until you’re ready.”

You can’t help but cry more at his words. Still embarrassed, you try to turn your head away to hide your face, but Sangyeon’s quick to cup your cheek. With a small frown, he helps to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“I–” More tears escape. “I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

“So why are you crying, sweetheart?”

“It’s just–” You let out a frustrated sigh. “All the stress is over. There shouldn’t be more of it, not after– after last week. But the whole day, I’ve just… constantly felt restless. And sometimes I think about what’s already happened in the past, and then I get sad and–” You let out another sob. “It’s dumb.”

Sangyeon’s quiet. But, only for a moment, because he’s already getting up and sitting back down on the bed. Throughout all of this, his hand doesn’t leave your cheek as he holds you like you’re the most precious person ever.

“It’s not,” he finally says. “Not at all.” And he doesn’t say more after that. You feel strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you into a hug. It’s gentle, almost hesitant, as he makes sure you’re comfortable with it. 

But when you melt into it, that’s when he holds you tighter. Your head rests against his chest, and you feel a few more tears escape.

“I know you’ve had a hard time,” Sangyeon mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And even though it’s over, I’m sure it takes a bit to heal from it. There’s nothing wrong with that, my darling.” You feel a soothing hand begin to stroke your back. “But know that I’m here for you. Whenever you need, hm? Just call for me.”

The tears drip down your face, yet you feel yourself relaxing more and more. 

“I’ll do anything,” Sangyeon continues. “I can help you clean up, take a walk with yo–”

“I just like being with you,” you huff with a sniffle. “You being here already makes me happy.”

Sangyeon squeezes you, something he likes to do when he finds you cute.

“That’s all that matters to me. You being happy.”

You try not to burst out into tears once more as you lean away and look him in the eye.

“What about you?” You ask, your voice trembling, full of emotion and love. “Are you happy?”

Sangyeon gives you a smile, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you and only you. “Of course I am. Because I have you, darling.”

You feel your face contort as more tears escape the corners of your eyes. Though these particular tears are not of sadness, not anymore. They’re more of… overwhelming love.

“So,” Sangyeon starts, brushing away a stray strand of your hair with a fond smile. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” 

You scrunch your nose and try not to shy away from the expression he’s giving you. It’s full of affection and admiration for you. With a shake of your head, you reply, “I already feel better. But…” You give him a small smile. “Do whatever you think will work.”

Sangyeon’s gaze immediately falls to your lips, and you can already tell what he’s planning to do. He grins, and you can see that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “I’m no professional, but I think–” He suddenly leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips. He pulls away with a hopeful, love-drunk gaze. “This might work,” he whispers before leaning back in, this time to kiss you on the cheek. You can’t help but giggle as he seems to lose an internal fight because soon enough, he’s pressing small kisses all over your face.

“Sangyeon–”

You can’t control the laughter that escapes you as he keeps on kissing you all over. At some point, he leans away and simply admires your happy expression with a fond smile of his own. Once you notice, your laughing dies down, and you begin to feel shy. 

“Hey, pretty.”

You give him an embarrassed look but still respond with a teasing, “hi, handsome,” making your boyfriend smile even wider. 

“I missed you so much,” he mumbles. “And–” Another kiss, this time on your lips again. This one is deeper, full of want, and the drying tears on your cheeks are now long forgotten. “I love you,” he whispers, his bottom lip brushing against yours. 

You smile widely. “I love you too.”

“Mmh,” Sangyeon hums, looking at you with smugness. “You know I tell everyone about how lucky I am to have you, right?”

You gasp, your cheeks starting to burn. “You do?”

“Of course. I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he replies like it’s the easiest thing to say. His hand slides around your waist as he pulls you in for another kiss. “So don’t hesitate to tell me when you’re feeling down, hm?” His eyes soften. “Because I adore you. I’ll do anything to help you.”

You nod. You feel happy, now that he’s in front of you, showering you with endless love.

Yet again, Sangyeon has another surge of affection because he’s suddenly collapsing back on the bed and pulling you down with him. The two of you are face-to-face, and it’s then that you’re reminded of just how sleepy you are, your eyes drooping.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

“I would never. I’ll stay here in bed with you for as long as you’d like, darling.”

You smile to yourself. Then, you hum mischievously. “But… what if you have to use the bathroom?”

Sangyeon sighs, and he presses a kiss to the very top of your head. “Go to sleep already.”

You only giggle in response. “What if someone rings the doorbell?”

Sangyeon, whose eyes are already shut, shushes you as he holds you closer. 

“What if it’s the police?”

“Y/n.”

“What if–”

He peeks an eye open adorably before he kisses you to finally make you stop talking. You smile against his lips and you don’t say anything more after that. With a sigh, you relax into his hold as the two of you drift off into sleep.

Miraculously, there is something better than staring and admiring that lovely picture of the two of you, framed on the wall. And that is waking up in the morning to the sweet and forever love of your life as he gives you a bright, lovely smile to start the day.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Heyy!! Will you plz post a fic about Frank(Endings beginnings) and can you make it very angsty (like too much angst) but with the happy ending plz 🥺

I Hate That I Love You » Frank (Endings, Beginnings)

Pairings: EB!Frank x Female Reader

Summary: You hate that you love Frank, but at the same time, you want to be with him.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff ending, language, on and off relationship, mentions of sex (18+), slapping (once), punching (once), crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You and Frank have had an on and off relationship for almost a year. You two fight so much that you never put any effort into yours and his relationship. You also have been ignoring his calls and texts. You can’t stand to hear what he has to say sometimes, but sometimes, you want to hear what he has to say, which you hate. When you and Frank are on a break from yours and his relationship, he takes that as a sign that you two are broken up and goes to hook up with some random woman.

You look at your phone, groaning loudly when Frank texted you for what it feels like the millionth time. You shut off your phone and put it in your pocket, going back to work. You try to not let your problems with Frank distract you from work, but that’s short lived when he shows up at where you work.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “What part of me not wanting to talk to do not understand?” You asked.

“You keep ignoring my calls and texts. You left me no choice.” Frank says.

“Actually, you do have a choice. You could’ve waited until I got off of work to talk to me, but I guess you didn’t think of that.” You say.

Frank rolls his eyes at you.

“She’s taking her break.” He says to your manager.

Frank grabs your arm and led you out of the building.

“Get your god damn hands off of me!” You say, smacking his arm with your free hand.

Frank let go of your arm. You slapped him across his face.

“Do that again and I’ll kick you where the sun don’t shine.” You threatened.

He chuckles, knowing damn well you won’t do that.

“Can you set your anger aside for five fucking minutes to talk to me?” He asks.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You say.

“Too fucking bad.” He says.

You huffed loudly and crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for him to say what he has to say.

“Do you really hate me so much that you won’t answer my calls and texts?” He asks.

“You’re the one who fucked a random woman in the backseat of your car when we were taking a break.” You say.

Frank scoffs and puts his hands on his hips.

“You’re really going to bring that up again?” Frank scoffs. “That was one fucking time!” He states. “I can say the same thing about you!” He says.

“I never fucked anyone in my car.” You say.

“I saw you making out with that guy in his truck.” He says.

“We weren’t together at the time, Frank!” You stated.

“Sure it was.” He scoffs again.

You scoffed and walked away from him.

“Don’t walk away from me, Y/N!” Frank says.

“I have to go back to work, Frank!” You say.

You went back inside the building, going back to work. Frank sighs loudly, running his fingers through his hair. He got in his car and started it. You looked out the window, watching Frank’s car pull out of the parking lot. You sighed and tried to focus on work.

As soon as you got home from work, you got a text from one of your friends, begging you to go to a party tonight. You thought about it for a moment. If Frank gets to go out, then you can too. You texted your friend back and told her that you would go to the party. You changed out of your work clothes and took a shower. You then put a cute outfit on.

When you got to the party, you looked all over the place for your friend, but couldn’t find her. You did see Frank there though. He had his arm around a woman’s shoulders. You scoffed to yourself. You felt like you should get Frank back for that and that’s what exactly you’re going to do. You walked up to a random guy and tapped on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at you.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” The guy smiles back.

You and the guy started a conversation. Frank looked over in your direction, his jaw clenching when he saw you talking to that guy. You put your hand on the guy’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to feel his muscles. You glanced over at Frank, smirking to yourself when you seen him staring at you.

“You know what we should do?” You say to the guy.

“What?” He asks.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. That was the last straw for Frank. He downed the rest of his drink and walked away from the woman he was with. He pulled you and the guy apart, punching him in the face and gave him a bloody nose. Your eyes went wide. Everyone looked over at you guys.

“What the fuck, man?!” The guy yells.

“Stay the fuck away from my girl!” Frank yells back.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was your girl!” He says before running away.

You scoffed and turned around to leave, but Frank grabbed your arm and pulled you into a random room, which was a bathroom. He closed and locked the door, leaving against it so you didn’t try to leave.

“What the hell did I tell you about putting your hands on me?!” You yelled.

“I don’t care!” Frank yells. “What kind of game are you playing, Y/N? If you’re trying to make me jealous, then congratulations! You achieved that!” He says.

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous! I was trying to get back at you!” You say.

“For what?” He asks.

“For fucking that woman!” You say.

Frank leaned his head against the door and huffed loudly.

“How many god damn times do I have to say it was one fucking time?!” He says.

Your eyes teared up and your bottom lip quivered. You couldn’t hold your tears in anymore. You started crying. Your legs gave out underneath you and you fell to the floor. You leaned your back against the sink cabinet. It broke Frank’s heart to see you crying. He sat down on the floor next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You tried getting out of his arms by hitting him and pushing him away, but he only held you tighter. You ended up melting into his touch. Your cries stopped after a few minutes.

“I hate that I love you.” You say, your voice hoarse from crying.

“You still love me?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

Silence filled the bathroom. You and Frank continued to sit on the bathroom floor with you in his arms. The only sound that was heard in the bathroom was your sniffles.

“I still want to be with you.” You say.

“Even after I fucked that woman?” Frank asks.

You nodded.

“We have a lot of shit to work through to improve our relationship.” You say.

“I agree.” He says.

Another few minutes go by before you and Frank stood up from the floor. Frank opened the door and led you out of the house with his arms wrapped around you. You guys got in his car.

“Frank?” You say quietly.

“Yea, baby?” He asks.

Instead of saying anything, you grabbed his jacket and kissed him passionately. Frank brought a hand to your cheek, gently caressing it. You two were breathless when you pulled away. You gazed in his blue eyes that you always get lost in.

“I love you so much, baby girl.” He almost whispers with a smile.

“I love you more, Frankie.” You say softly, smiling back.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

-Bucky’s Doll

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Defeat"

[Heroes of Olympus/Odyssey(and techically EPIC) crossover]

Masterlist

Goofy blurb inspired by this post cause yes

Warnings: Not proofread, nothing else I believe

Word count: 830 words

Odysseus is ready to strangle the Olympians—one by one—for forcing him into this volleyball match. And then the teenagers who are absolutely destroying his crew.

Eurylochus crashes to the ground, the ball bouncing off his head and landing on the court.

The other side erupts in cheers. If Odysseus hears them shout in joy one more time, he might just summon a storm with his anger.

"I think I may have broken a bone," Eurylochus groans, while Polites helps him up.

"Eurylochus, do not—" Odysseus begins, fully prepared to curse out his brother-in-law.

"We will beat them, don't worry," Polites interrupts brightly.

The scoreboard blares 12 to 0.

Perimedes points it out. Elpenor quickly shuts him up.

He glared at the kids across from them. They had been introduced to each other, so he knew all their names and their parents. The first one, and the one who had gotten the most points, was Percy Jackson, a child of Poseidon. He wondered what the sea god would do if he poked Jackson's eye out.

He debates whether it was worth it.

He decides it is. As soon as he got his hand on something sharp-

The others included, Annabeth Chase, was a child of Athena, which strangely stung.

A child of Zeus, Jason Grace. Eurylochus had declared if he hit the blonde kid in the face with the ball, it would be a victory for him.

Leo Valdez, a son of Hephaestus, who clearly was not taking the game seriously. He got distracted by everything and could not stay still for 10 seconds.

Frank Zhang, a child of Mars, who was Roman version of Ares. Odysseus groaned when he was told that there were a different versions of the Greek Gods who weren't very different at all.

And Piper Mclean, a child of Aphrodite. He didn't know how to feel about her.

There a child of Pluto, the roman version of Hades, watching from the sidelines named Hazel Levesque.

He’s a hero, a legend remembered by history, and these children are laughing at him!

Annabeth calls. “You might want to work on your serve. It’s kinda… underwhelming.”

“Underwhelming?” Odysseus snaps, grabbing the ball. He winds up and serves with all the force of a furious storm.

The ball flies sideways and misses the net entirely.

Jason bursts out laughing. “Nice shot! Want me to get it for you?”

Piper chimes in with dripping sarcasm, “Yeah, we can take it easy while you go on a quest for the ball.”

"Perimedes, go get it," Odysseus grumbles.

"Why me?" Perimedes whines.

Odysseus glares daggers at him. Perimedes stumbles to retrieve the ball.

Odysseus growls and tries again. His serve barely clears the net and is intercepted by Frank Zhang, who spikes it so hard it almost knocks Odysseus over.

“You know what’s the worst part?” Odysseus mutters. “They’re enjoying this.”

Annabeth catches his eye, smirking. “We do have a tendency to be good at things like this,” she calls out.

“Yeah, well, so do I!” Odysseus snaps back. “I could sink your whole ship with a single command!”

Leo Valdez, inspecting the ball like a piece of machinery, barely looks up. “Cool story, bro. But this isn’t the Odyssey. It’s volleyball. And we’re winning.”

"You haven’t done anything!" Odysseus retorts.

"Well, neither have you." Leo motions at the scoreboard, barely glancing up.

“You know, we’re having fun. I think that’s what counts," Jason says.

Odysseus turns to his team, who look equally dejected. “Alright, let’s try a new tactic,” he says, trying to salvage some dignity. “We’re going for a strategic play!”

Eurylochus mumbles, “You mean, like hiding the ball in the bushes?”

“No!” Odysseus snaps. “We’ll use the element of surprise.”

Perimedes, finally back with the ball, looks at him skeptically. “What’s the plan?”

Odysseus whispers dramatically, “We’ll fake a serve and then—”

Before he can finish, Leo Valdez, who’s just fixed his shoelace, tosses the ball back into play. The ball sails over the net, and instead of following his own plan, Odysseus dives for it, accidentally bumping it into his own face. The ball ricochets back over the net.

Percy spikes it with ease, and it lands with a decisive thud on Odysseus’s side. The scoreboard updates: 19 to 0.

The final whistle blows. Odysseus stares at the ground, his pride in tatters.

Percy Jackson and his team erupted into cheers and high-fives, their victory sweet and complete. Percy, with a grin as wide as the Mississippi, calls out, “Great game, guys! You definitely kept us on our toes!”

Annabeth, grinning, adds, “And hey, it was good practice for us, too. We’ll be ready for anything now!”

The child of Mars chuckles. “You should’ve seen it, Odysseus. You almost made us break a sweat.”

Odysseus grumbled, “I’d rather face the Cyclops than play another round of this.”

"I wouldn't…" Polites mumbles.

As his team trudges off the court, Eurylochus, still grumbling about his 'broken bone', picks up the ball. In a fit of frustration, he hurls it toward the demigod team.

The ball smacks Jason Grace in the face. He stumbles and falls backwards, landing on his behind.

"AHA!" Eurylochus yells in victory, throwing his arms up, then winces.

Odysseus, struggling to hide a grin, says, “Well, at least we hit something.”

The crew quickly gathers their things and moves away, leaving behind the stunned demigods.

[themathomhouse]

"male creative" is an oxymoron. Men cannot create; their sole domain is destruction and cruelty.

Darling with all the love in the world, this seems like a trauma response. I have been there myself over a decade ago when I didn't trust men enough to be alone with one, but I worked on myself and started trying being alone with a man. And it worked out fine. Men are just people, or so I hear.

"Not all men" is unbelievably reductive when the context is talking about not knowing who might be a danger to you - especially when you're in the throes of your trauma response - but I absolutely promise you that there are men who aren't destructive or cruel, and there are brilliantly creative men who also actually credit the people they work with. Of course men can create, the idea that our biology dictates our capacities is both ridiculous and a huge problem for everybody when you accept that premise.

And let's be frank, there are women who take advantage of their positions and are a danger to everyone - but especially to other women! Those who are working to strip away rights like abortion access, are pushing for a return to "conservative/Christian values" - these women are trying to lock us* back in the home, dependent on men! Pretending that men are the only problem, or indeed that somehow trans women** are, is at best extremely misguided and at worst deliberately a distract and divide tactic so that we focus so much on in-fighting that we don't notice the tentative support structure underneath us being removed.

I love a swing dress and long hair and vintage-style makeup as much as the next femme sapphic, but it's more fun when it's aesthetic and pretend.

* I guess I'm a non-binary woman? Sorta? If I could be referred to without reference to gender that would be my ideal, but I walk through the world a bit femme and with a killer rack so misogyny makes me feel more in the "woman" box. How would I feel in a world without misogyny? Would I feel any affinity to womanhood at all? I honestly don't know. And I don't know how much I even want to be in a box I'm kicked into unwillingly.

** it's usually aimed at trans women specifically, hence why people specify "op is a terf" on posts talking about men. Many terfs are not even talking about actual men in said posts, which means the premise of the post is gross and also still not looking at patriarchy or, frankly, real issues!! It's distracting from the fact that we are in REAL DANGER of losing fundamental rights here and you want to subjugate another group instead?? Will that make you feel better?? Anyway I'm sure this also happens to trans, gender-non-comforming, and non-binary people and that we're all sort of in the firing line, but the people usually explicitly thought of in such instances are trans women.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

I love all your fics!!!! I wondering if I could please request imagine (Triple Frontier) Ben Miller x shy girlfriend reader and both your infant son is mommy boy. Pretty adorable like every single day walking around the building, waiting for Ben or after the MMA fights, being both his good luck charms 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

A/n: you’re a genius, lovely! this is post-canon so i don’t have to deal with tom :) also, i spent so much time choosing the gif because i kept getting distracted about how pretty they are (the tf boys and the gifs)

Warnings: none :) reader has a kid, so if that’s not your thing don’t read!

triple frontier masterlist

Good Luck Charm

The brick wall of the gym hallway is cool against your shoulder from where you’re leaning against it. The smell of clean linoleum and the hum of the fluorescents above you provide a timeless cocoon for the sleeping bundle in your arms to nuzzle in closer to your chest.

“Good morning, Jules,” you coo softly when the bundle opens his eyes. “Have a good nap?” You get a bleary-eyed stare in response. Julian, named after Benny’s mom Julia, slowly blinks at you before spitting out his pacifier, spit following behind.

“Baby, why’d you do that?” you ask him. “You want your paci.” Sure enough, his face starts to turn red and you see his throat work up an upset whimper. Before he can start to fuss to much, though, you press the pacifier back into his mouth. Contentment settles on his face and his eyes slide back closed.

Distantly, you can hear the yelling crowd from the gym, and you don’t know how Jules is sleeping at all. The crowd is larger than normal on account of the sizable opponent Benny is fighting, hence the reason you’re waiting in the hallway instead of watching the fight.

You used to watch all of his matches when you where dating- you couldn’t get enough of the thrill of watching your Benny up on that platform, fighting with all of his strength to win. But, as you got more attached to him, it got harder to watch him take punches, especially when you had Julian.

Even if you aren’t in the room, it doesn’t stop you from thinking about Benny. The fight hasn’t started yet, which means that he’s probably in the locker room down the hall getting hyped up by the guys. As clear as if he was right in front of you, you see him wrap his hands carefully with bandages and gloves, his wedding band around a cord on his neck that holds his dog tags.

Will’s probably giving him some sort of pep talk with Santiago tagging on any information he deems helpful, which usually isn’t. Frankie, quiet and composed, os sitting on the bench, sizing up the opponent and searching for any weaknesses. They make quiet the group of men together. All there for Benny, even though none of them have to do this anymore.

When the crowd’s cheers grow louder, you know Benny’s made his way into the gym. Your husband’s always been a town favorite, and tonight there’s some sort of special opponent that he’s facing. You try not to learn all of the details- they usually make you too nervous. Benny knows not to tell you anything the same way you know not to ask questions when you patch him up. Blood, after being with him for so long, isn’t a problem for you anymore.

From somewhere down the hall, a voice calls your name. You could recognize that voice from anywhere, and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway then the loud, expletive-filled Spanish greeting gives him away before you can turn around and tell him that Julian’s asleep. Santiago wraps his arms around you, careful of Julian, and greets you warmly. “Hola, mija. How’s the kid?”

“Trying to sleep,” you respond without any malice at all. “No thanks to you.” He at least looks a little bit ashamed, but that clears away from his face as soon as Frankie steps next to him.

“Jesus, Pope, could you be any louder?” Frankie says, patting you roughly on the shoulder with a grin. “You think you would learn how to be around kids after all this time, ¿eh cabròn?”

“Thanks, Frank.” Santi’s voice is dripping with its usual sarcasm and sass, but all of you are used to it by now. 99% of what Santi says can be taken with a grain of salt.

In the gym, Benny’s name is announced over the loudspeaker and the lights start flashing rapidly. “I guess that’s your que to go,” you say. “Wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

“Can we convince you to join us?” Frankie asks. Because it’s Frankie, you know he means the offer. If you asked him, he would take care of Julian while you went to see Benny, and you would trust him fully to do so. After two of his own kids, Frankie knows how to take care of all kinds of disasters, and you know his gentleness applies to anyone he considers family.

But you just don’t think that you watching is a good idea. “Nah, it’s okay, Frankie. Maybe next time.” Both of you know you’ll say the exact same thing next time too, but you always appreciate the offer.

With a knowing look, Frankie nods and leads Santiago down the hall with him into the crowded, hazy gym. You turn your attention back to Julian, who looks content in his dinosaur onesie. It was a gift from Will, and Benny wanted Julian to show support for his uncles.

The rest of the fight passes in a the crowds oohs and aahs and you can only pay so much attention to it before it starts to make you too anxious. Realistically, you know Benny can handle whoever it is he’s fighting. You heard accidentally that there’s a pound difference between them, but Benny’s fast for someone his size and you know that he can his own. Plus, he’s got a hearty amount of backup in case something goes wrong. The worst you’ve ever had to patch up in a long is a bloody nose or bruised ribs, and even then Benny usually knows how to take care of himself more than you do.

Eventually, you hear the triumphant roars reach a crescendo and the announcer calls out Benny as the winner. Pride fills your chest as you whisper to Julian. “Daddy won his fight, Jules. Just like we told him to.” Julian, waking up due to the raised noise levels, looks at you through squinted blue eyes just like his father’s.

As people trickle past you through the back exit, you make your way into the locker room where you know Benny and the guys will be as soon as Benny’s cleared by the unofficial doctor on site. It must not have been close at all because they show up after only a few minutes, cheering and yelling their way through the door.

When Benny sees you, a grin lights up his face, as if it’s a surprise to see you there. Like you would ever miss a fight.

With one strong arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you in to a bruising kiss. “Honey,” he mutters against your lips, “I think you might be my good luck charm.”

Even after all these years, your heart still swells at his words, at the idea of Benny being just as enamored with you as you are with him. “I think Julian might be part of it too.”

With a grin, Benny looks down at the baby between you. “Hey, bud,” he greets, two sandy blond-haired heads looking at each other. While you’re the one who can seemingly always get Jules to sleep, Benny always wakes him up. Luckily, though, Julian is usually happy when he sees Benny. You can’t blame him. “How was your day with mama?”

“He had a rough day at school,” you explain softly to Benny, looking at Julian. “Apparently he was fussy.”

Benny scoffs and carefully takes Julian when you offer him. If it was anyone else covered in sweat and blood, you would say no, but you know Benny’s at least washed his hands. “My baby? Never. He’s an angel.”

“Sure, honey,” you respond, happy to see the twinkle in Benny’s eye. He may not agree, but you know there’s nothing that makes him in a better mood than winning and having his family there. “How was the fight?”

Benny’s grin spreads across his face and takes on a confidence that you usually don’t see outside of your home. “Not even close. He didn’t see a fuckin’ thing coming.”

“Benny,” you sigh, gesturing to Julian. “I’ll let it slide because you just won.”

“Good luck getting Pope to stop. His favorite words aren’t appropriate for kids,” Benny says in return, but you know he’s trying. His language is already better than it used to be. “Isn’t that right, Jules?”

Jules responds with a happy noise, one that just makes Benny’s grin even wider. You can’t help but appreciate the sight before you; your two beaming boys with each other, your family together.

Yeah, you’re going to keep coming to his fights. Maybe your his good luck charm, maybe you’re not, but nothing could possibly stop you from seeing Benny like this.

Happy. Content. Loved.

“Come here, honey,” Benny calls to you, and who are you to say no. Carefully, you let yourself be wrapped in Benny’s arms, your head on the warm muscle of his shoulder. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “We’re your good luck charms, right?”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. You ignore the whistling and cheering of Santi and Frankie and the over-exaggerated gagging of Will. “Nothin’ like you, sweetheart. Or you-” he looks down at Julia “-bud.”

You can’t help but agree.

[toydreamer]

Not sure how to start this blog post Cus I’m unsure how to even start writing this chaotic ball of emotions I’m feeling. So read on if ur still interested otherwise enjoy this prettiest rainbow I’ve had the luck to take a photo of.

for the ones who have been following me for years would know the cancer battle that’s been plaguing my dad for the past few years and the turmoil it’s been putting us through.

No easy way to say this but the longest and dreary journey has finally come to an end for my dad. He did his best to fight with all he can and persistently tolerated the pain demons all so he could buy himself more time with us.

To be Frank, I’ve long expected this day to come bcus well he ain’t a Saint of health, been the heaviest chain smoker all his life. He also didn’t exactly made it easy for us given how addicted he was to decades long history of chugging cigs.

But still he’s my dad and all I can say is I gradually jus accepted the fact and decide to cherish the present days as much as possible Cus it’s gonna be a sooner or later event.

When he was first diagnosed, it was already late stage. There’s still treatment options for him but unfortunately the doctors exhausted medicines after medicines on him bcus his cancer type was an insanely aggressive kind.

We still tried to stay positive but obviously he is deeply affected. There’s bouts of him just wanting to give up and forgo treatment entirely but we managed to persuade him to give it a go all so that we can have abit more time with him.

Eventually he came around abit but he is also a traditional Asian man of extremely few words making the task of prying open an oyster shell with bare hands look like childplay. He doesn’t like telling us what he’s thinking despite many attempts to talk. Another bad habit that we disliked but can’t do about once he clams up.

Understandably we know deep down he’s as anxious and worried about his future as us but he doesn’t want us to worry about him. So it’s like being in a deadlock for days.

All we could do was engaging with him more, finding new food places to try, eating at his favourites and bringing him to places. Those outing made him forgot about his condition for abit, little positive distractions that now serves as happy memories of him.

His tumors stay as stubborn as can be and begin to spread like a menace. It eventually spread to his brain in Jan this year that’s when doctor told us it’s stage 4, they were confident in surgery given he’s still in a healthy condition so we went ahead.

The doctors pulled through and though was not able to remove everything but they did they best to take out as much as they could. Dad recovered well too and bounce back really quickly. They lined him up with a couple more treatments hoping to try and keep it at bay.

But alas this time it only took a month for it to grow back again. Recurring symptoms from before came back and we had a wrenching gut feeling the tumor in his brain is back. Hoping so much that we were wrong but reality and knowledge prove us right again.

Only this time it made it impossible for anymore treatments to be done for him as the cancer grew back in the exact same area and is even bigger than before with brain bleed. His health has also deteriorated at this point that even the surgeons don’t feel confident and comfortable putting him through another surgery in the same area. Risk of side effects are a lot higher now. They also told us he’s reached end stage now.

So we knew there’s no point in putting him through more pain any longer. Made the hard decision to let him live out his condition as comfortably as possible with minimal pain. Doctors have also warned us he might go any time then and to be prepared.

Haven’t cried so hard in years since I was a young child after hearing the news and trying to digest reality. Even though I always knew this day would come it’s never enough preparation when it arrives.

But dad did his best and held out for a month plus. It was so tough watching him waste away as the illness gradually takes away pieces of him, reducing him to being jailed in his own body as he slowly loses functions and control over his body. He is fully dependent on external care. Even if he couldn’t communicate with us like the past, it’s easy to see how turmoil tortured him from within when he can’t even perform basic actions.

Mum’s retired so she gets to visit him and stay by his side for as much of the day as she can. I’m lucky to be able to work from home and only be on call sometimes so I’ll frequently visit him as much as I can. Sis only gets to see him after work so we rotate shifts to manage.

All while waiting for hospice to get back to us when vacancy opens up which was just one week back. When he finally got transferred after almost a month’s wait, a relative had the smartest idea to propose a small little party celebrating my sister’s birthday at the hospice for a few hours so we could gather and hang out with my dad is really the main purpose.

Could tell he really appreciated and enjoy the time outside for abit that’s not him being confined within the wards. Even managed to give us the best thumbs up he can managed which was a great sign.

That inherently gave us abit of a false hope that perhaps he still had more time left. Only for things to descend rapidly in jus a few days later. Up till the morning of Thursday this week, hospice called to inform us that his condition isn’t looking good and to come down and spend as much time with him as possible given he might pass at any time.

Imagine the shock it gave us all after such a good weekend. We rushed down and took shifts to spend all the time we have together with him.

Could tell he wasn’t ready to leave and didn’t want to but we both knew the choice isn’t his to make anymore. He hasn’t been able to straighten his stiff arms for weeks but still did his best to reach his palms out to touch my face one last time. Did my best to tell him what I wanted to say for the last time. He then passed on in the wee hours of today.

As for this rainbow? It felt too much of a coincidence when it appeared after we’ve all been running about preparing for dad’s funeral arrangements. It’s only when I had a breather and look up for abit and was blessed with this majestic sunset sky and the vibrant rainbow bridge after a heavy downpour.

I may be delulu about it but given the timing of everything that’s happening plus the position of it seating jus nicely above the hall that my dad’s wake was held, felt a tad too surreal. Personally it feels like a mix between a thank you message plus a motivational push towards me doing what I do best, encouraging the ideas I have in plans. Or maybe it could be his way of reassuring us things will be fine and he’s truly in a happier better place now.

When things get more settled, I’ll defo look into getting this printed and framed close to dad’s shrine in the house. Feels like a right thing to do.

Typing his little story has been a little therapeutic and helped lighten the load in my chest some.

Missing him and his shenanigans loads already but I know I’ll be okay eventually, the tough part is letting time do it’s job in dulling out the pain.

If u see this, thanks for tuning into part of my life story 🫶🏻✨

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 5: Science/Fiction

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

EPISODE 2 HERE

EPISODE 3 HERE

EPISODE 4 HERE

38) Loki looking for Mobius in PIE ROOM Hey... this is starting to be suspicious. is this room actual Heart of the TVA, that we didn´t know about ??? Why does everyone accidentally end up here???

39) Loki Time slipping to the theater room (where he had his first long, table converstation with Mobius.)

I´m gonna cry 😭

40) Mobius/Don casually informing Loki, he´s a SINGLE dad and telling him his entire work schedule (not that it´s important for anything, but Mobius is sooo damn handsome in that blue west!!! ) Also Loki staring at him through the window ?! And then being so distracted by him, that it took him interestigly long time, before he realized / accepted that Mobius doesn´t remember him (AGAIN). And he should have know this right away, because he already talked to Casey/Frank.

41) Loki time slipping to Mobius again (right when he started to be hopefull and Happy, that O. B. will be able to help him.

42) Loki glow up - or Loki fixing himself up, to look sexy not threatening fo Mobius/Don. I mean... this is just straight out of romantic movie, I´m sorry. Interesting acting choice there🤣

43) Loki being very nervous while talking to Mobius/Don.

Mobius: "You live around here, or did you follow me home? 😉" Loki: "Oh... no... hahahaha 😅 ... No no. I was... 😳I was actually on my way to the 👉👆👇☝️uh. And... 😨 And I happend to see you, so I... I... I 🫣 just thought I´d just come and say that I´m sorry that I... I... 🥵couldn´t... stick around back there. I was... um... 🤯 I was in a bit of a time crunch. 😅😅😅"

Said God of Mischief.

I´m sorry, but he´s acting here like stuttering schoolgirl with a crush. What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Tom ??? Anyway... I love it xD

44) Mobius dropping everything and forgeting about his two mischievous sons so he can give Loki full attention

45) Wanna buy my wife´s jetski? - oh by the way, she´s long gone, and worst thing about it is the fact, that one of these beauties doesn´t have a rider.

would you wanna ride it with me? let´s jump up on these bad boys

46) "A beautiful union of form and function"

The fact, that Loki remembers that line from S01E02 and that he echoes it back at Mobius, who doesn´t remember him... Like... WHAT? This thing is romantic as fuck. also finaly someone, who will gladly listen to Mobius braindumping about jetskis!!!! YES PLEASE. He deserves it! 💚 they litteraly made for each other!

47) Loki gently helping Mobius/Don through the time door. - while O. B. is struggling with heavy prototype of tempad...

48) "You saved my life, when I first arrived. You saw something in me, that I hadn´t seen in myself."

Can you believe he said that??? Because I don´t. I´m still processing 😭 Also, see? He IS his friend... but O. B. is not. He WILL be (eccept O. B. knows Mobius much longer xDD ) I´m ok 49) "I want my friends back. I don´t want to be alone."

This scene is honestly so tragic. Sylvie helps him realize his true motivations and he looks so desprete. TVA: place, that he should hate is home now. Where he belong. And that´s why he cared so much and tried so hard to save that place. And thing he wants the most are his friends. Their company. (And if it wasn´t obvious, it means primarily Mobius. The man, he called friend several times this season) It´s him, who Loki doesn´t want to lose in the first place.

Loki looks so fucking sad here! I can´t! 50) "It was more about what I wanted."

Not only he says it while we are watching Mobius, but let´s take in the fact, that he says it at all! Like... come on!!! Can´t he be just happy? As soon as he starts thinking that his actions are selfish, Loki will actualy choose what he thinks is better for Mobius and tries to let him go...

The character development in this show is just unbelievable

And finaly: 51) "It´s not about where, when or why. It´s about WHO."

... said Loki, after very, very, VERY long look at Mobius. --------------- Anyway. That´s the check-list. In total, I counted 51 Lokius moment, but if anyone caught something I didn´t, feel free to correct me! the more, the better! 😁 It´s a hella lot of Lokius content. especially since I didn´t expected, like... not even third of it. So yeah. Last part will be kind of a conclusion. I will try to look at possibilities, what could all this mean. What could be the actual intent of writers and filmakers etc. And, simply put it, asking: WHAT THE FUCK 😳