#my love 💘

[ikram1909]

Pedri about the Supercopa: "i remember the last one really well especially since I scored a goal. I also remember Gavi's incredible performance I think it was huge. I had a lot of fun on the pitch and in the celebrations after too"

[modernmanblues]

Eric circa 1977

[ermespop]

GGGGGGGGGRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

kissing da homies (inarizaki) (seijoh 4) (nekoma)

honestly, no one bats an eye at it. there are all sorts of weird pre-game rituals out there— giving your teammates a kiss for good luck is fairly simple.

you start with the first years, who stand as tall as they can and stare stoically into the distance while you press your lips to your fingers and your fingers to their chest, right over their heart.

you’re better friends with the second years, so you kiss them directly. one for ginjima, who still blushes faintly and rubs at his cheek after you’ve moved on. one for kosaku, who doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. one for atsumu.

“thanks,” the setter says, kissing your cheek back. you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile so as to preserve the somber mood. your efforts are wasted a second later when his twin opens his mouth.

“you can’t do that! you’re gonna screw up the good luck, dammit,” complains osamu.

“you’re just jealous ‘cause you didn’t think of it first,” retorts atsumu. “it’s probably extra good luck. no one’s ever kissed y/n before.”

“that’s not true,” you interject.

“for the game, i meant,” atsumu screws up his face. “hey, which scrub’s been kissin’ you?”

��shut up so i can get mine,” scowls osamu. his expression melts away when you kiss him, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

“you shut up—” you leave the twins to their bickering while you start on the third years.

one for akagi, who grins at you and holds up a hand for a high five. aran is polite as always, leaning forward slightly to give you easier access to his cheek. omimi is stretching still, so you bend over and give him a sort of sideways-upside-down kiss.

kita is last, so you kiss him softly on the cheek and then step forward impulsively, wrapping your arms around him. after a frozen second, the captain relaxes into your touch (as much as kita can, anyway), tucking his face into your neck and keeping his hands respectfully on your waist.

“good luck,” you whisper into his ear. “you’ve got the muscle memory, remember? you’ve already won this.” you feel his nod rather than see it. he sighs rather shudderingly into you, and you recall someone comparing him to a robot; he certainly brings to mind a machine exhaling steam and smoke right now.

when you step back, you can feel the eyes of everyone else on the both of you.

"that's not fair," complains atsumu, always first to dig himself into a verbal hole. "what, is kita-san kissin' you after practice? is that why he gets special treatment?"

"he gets special treatment because he's the captain," you say, sticking your nose in the air. "and 'cause he's the best. don't forget it."

there are mumbles of disagreement among everyone else, but no one brave enough to actually insult kita to his face. not that they would believe it— they're just a bunch of teenage boys who have suddenly turned a superstition into a competition.

a latecomer disrupts the disruption.

"sorry," pants suna, leaning his hands on his bony knees, clearly out of breath. "my sister hid my jersey and the spare, too."

"no worries," says kita kindly. "i always pack ahead of time."

suna snaps up straight and nods, his eyes far away as though he's jotting the third year's words down in his brain.

"you're missing the kissing," says osamu, then snickers at his own rhyme.

"am i?" says suna, more innocently than suna has ever said anything. you roll your eyes and sidle up to him, his posture now returned to its usual unhealthy slouch. "what's the—"

you kiss him hard. he shuts up immediately, reaction time alarmingly fast as he leans into you, tilting his head and placing one large hand on your lower back. he runs hot, and you can feel it all over, a pleasant warmth making you dizzy. you bite his lower lip as you pull back, grinning, then make a show of wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand.

"why?" says ginjima, sounding confused, upset, and angry. "why would you make me look at that?"

"no one made you look," suna points out.

"we really don't need the memories," aran says wonderingly, staring up at the sky. he might be having a religious epiphany.

the rest of the team is in various states of shock. you're pretty sure a few of them are trying to work out a way to reach suna's level, since he's clearly won the contest and all.

"i don't think that was enough luck," he says, looking down at himself dubiously, poking his own arm for emphasis. "do you have any more to spare?"

[retquits]

darcy sketch 🍪

[hyunpic]

2000.03.20: happy birthday hyunjin 🎂💘 — watch hyunjin grow up: you bloomed into the most beautiful and special flower

[mblue-art]

i miss you, come here !! and oh, it's hard to see you, but i wish you were right here !!!

xoxo i miss my boyfriend

[telpelote]

He only gives cloaks to those he really really cares about, Keyleth. Really cares about.

Mid-campaign look with a closeup under the cut :)

[tithsokphanny31]

딸기 토벌단😋🍓

[rainyfey]

More Momokarun sleepover... Mayhaps..??

Your wish is my command, dear writer!! 💖 thank you so so much for the ask! ^u^

Tried actually coloring one of the sketches this time u_u it's hard for me but I did my best!

What do y'all think they're watching? Horror movies? X-Files?? Boys Over Flowers???

[spcherryygirl]

i love my moots, i love my mooties, i love my mutuals. they're so silly. i barely interact w most of them but they're so silly. i love love love my moots. they're so funny & talented. sometimes i just stalk their blog because i love their themes. and because i'm scared to talk to them. they're so cute. when they comment on my post or send me an ask i jump. when they like my post i jump. when they reblog my post i jump.

[xoxorory]

The Son of the Sea vs. the Common Cold !

POV: Fem!Reader

Pairing: Sick!Percy Jackson x fem!reader

Genre: Romance, humor, tension, flirting, +18 (suggestive comments), established relationship, fluff

Taglist🏷️ : @shootingstargirl2001 , @simpingmyassoff (if you want to be added,comment down below!)

Camp Half-Blood – Poseidon Cabin – 08:12 a.m.

I love Percy Jackson madly. With the intensity of a storm, the sweetness of summer, and the kind of patience you only reserve for children of the gods.

But this man is the most unbearable patient on the planet.

“I don’t need medicine. I’m the son of the sea god. I can breathe underwater, survive kraken attacks and—”

“And yet you’re sweating like you were run over by a hippogriff,” I cut in, arms crossed as I stand in the doorway.

Percy is tangled in a mess of blankets like some feverish burrito. His hair’s a wreck, his nose is red, and his eyes are way more watery than usual. He looks miserable. He looks adorable. And he looks absolutely useless.

“I’m not that bad,” he croaks, then sneezes so hard it startles a fish in the bowl across the room.

“Of course not, Jackson. You look ready to lead a war. What’s next? Rainbow vomit?”

He gives me a weak but defiant look—and sneezes again.

I sigh. Walk toward him with a cup of tea and a bottle of medicine.

“Drink this. Take two spoonfuls of this. And if you try to sneak off to train, I swear I’ll tell Annabeth to chain you down with grammar rules.”

“That’s torture,” he grumbles.

“Welcome to the mortal world, my sniffling sea slug.”

09:00 a.m. – The Fever Hits

After arguing with me for twenty minutes, Percy finally gives in and takes the medicine. And then… he collapses. Literally. He lies down, pulls the covers over his ears, and starts murmuring things that make zero sense.

“Babe… the… wave… spoke to me.”

“What did it say?”

“That you’re beautiful.”

I smile, sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the fever talking?”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.”

I lean over to run my fingers across his forehead, where the heat is pulsing. He’s burning up.

And yet, he manages to open one eye and say:

“Don’t stop touching me. Your hands are cold. And soft. And magical.”

“I’m literally wiping you down with a wet cloth, Jackson. Calm your libido.”

“Impossible. You’re wearing that blue top that fits you just right. I’m defenseless.”

I sigh… and stroke his hair. It’s soft, tangled with sweat, and still smells like ocean. Even sick, Percy Jackson is so unapologetically him that it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

10:00 a.m. – The Nurse (with Zero Patience)

I try to let him sleep. I turn off the lamp. Change the damp cloth. Sit quietly in a chair and start reading. But every five minutes…

“Babe…”

“Yes?”

“I’m cold.”

I fix the blanket.

Two minutes later:

“Princess…”

“What now, Percy?”

“Now I’m hot.”

“You’re worse than a hormonal nightmare.”

“But you love me like this.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

11:00 a.m. – Philosophical Percy

The fever’s messing with his brain. He’s in romantic philosopher mode now.

“Did you know there are creatures deep in the ocean that have never seen the light?”

“I know. You’re one of them right now.”

“Babe.”

“What?”

“If I die, tell my mom I was brave.”

“You have a cold, not a curse from Hades.”

“Still. And tell Annabeth I’m sorry about the dictionary I accidentally destroyed.”

“Percy…”

“And tell Grover he can have my coral collection.”

“I swear, if you don’t stop being dramatic, I’m shoving the medicine down your throat with a funnel.”

He grins, satisfied.

“Sorry ma.”

12:00 p.m. – The Sweet Part

After all the drama, Percy finally falls asleep. For real this time. His forehead’s less hot, and his breathing is steady. I lie down next to him, just for a bit, careful not to wake him.

My hand brushes against his.

And without opening his eyes, he murmurs:

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I always will, Jackson.”

“Even if I turn into a fish?”

“Especially if you turn into a fish. I’ll put a tank in my cabin.”

He chuckles softly. And then falls asleep again.

2:00 p.m. – Lunchtime…

When I get up to go grab him some food, I bump into Tyson at the door.

“My little brother okay?” he asks.

“Fever. Snot. Dramatic delirium. The usual.”

Tyson nods solemnly.

“You give him soup?”

“On my way.”

“Put little pieces of octopus in it. He likes that.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

3:00 p.m. – Recovery with a Spoonful of Tenderness

I bring him soup. Percy doesn’t want to eat. Says he’s too weak.

So… I feed him myself.

“This is humiliating,” he whispers as I lift the spoon to his lips.

“This is adorable. Shut up and chew.”

He chews. And smiles.

“You know, I imagined being sick and you taking care of me, but in my fantasy, you were wearing a nurse uniform.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full,it’s disgusting.”

“Yes,ma’am.”

4:00 p.m. – A Bit Better… and Still Hot

He can walk now. Barely, but it counts. He gets in the shower while I tidy up the bed.

And when he walks out, hair dripping, towel slung around his waist, leaning against the doorframe, he gives me that crooked smile.

“So taking care of me turns you into a mama hen?” he asks, voice raspy but teasing.

I give him a once-over. He’s dark-eyed, unkempt, flushed from the fever.

And still…

“Gods. You’re the sexiest sick man I’ve ever seen.”

“Knew it.”

“And yet, you’re not kissing me until you’re virus-free, Jackson.”

He groans. Literally moans like I stabbed his soul.

“That’s cruel. You’re cruel,ma.”

“And you’re contagious. Back off, germ incubator.”

6:00 p.m. – Fevered Confessions

He’s better now. Enough to joke again. But when he settles back in bed and looks at me with that rare kind of seriousness he hides behind humor, he takes my hand and says:

“Thank you.”

“For the soup?”

“For existing.”

I freeze. Stare at him.

“Percy…”

“You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me want to get better faster just so I can keep making you laugh.”

“You do things for me too, you know?”

“Like what?”

“Like looking at me like I’m art. Like loving even the broken parts I try to hide.”

He smiles. Slow. Beautiful.

“You’re my medicine.”

“And you’re my favorite chaos.”

[moxidi-fanarts-and-sketches]

Ally beardsley WAS right. this ship IS kinda cute

[modernmanblues]

i still prefer this over McCartney’s version

[morriemonnie]

Perhaps,, could you draw Ragebait!! (Finn x Shrimpo) if it’s alright? they’re my comfort ship,, I just thin Theyre neat,,

THEIR DYNAMIC IS SO STUPIDLY FUNNY TO ME AND I'M SO ENDEARED BY IT

[wohyunz]

LEE KNOW SKZ-TALKER GO! Season 5, EP.2

[loves2spwge]

they just want to be one...

commissions @jolyonvane did for me where i asked if he could please please please make stan look as desperate and exhausted as he usually does but is being kept together by all his love for his sbf kyle