todays bird
Show & Tell
Origami Around
Product Placement
RMH
d e v o n
Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
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shark vs the universe
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
macklin celebrini has autism
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
noise dept.
gracie abrams
Sweet Seals For You, Always
PR's Tumblrdome
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@spvilers
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ DANCING QUEEN ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
༉‧₊˚. lola. she/her. leo. enfj. batgirls enthusiast. certified swiftie. stephanie brown lovebot.
masterlist. prompt list. about me. request guidelines. characters i write for. books.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN.
— do not translate/repost my works anywhere without my permission.
© spvilers 2023
sorry for romanticizing the mundane but the fact that laughter is infectious is so incredible to me. like yeah it's just a reaction to stimuli but the way it feels to hear someone laugh and feel yourself compelled to share that joy is really something. and it's so simple and requires no skill but it's so special and important to me.
scarlet johannson did not spend an entire decade fighting tooth and nail to make natasha into an actual character instead of the sex object writers wanted her to be while also having to endure the most vile, misogynistic questions during press tours for people to now disrespect her legacy because yelena is 'better'. the only reason why that is, is because of everything scarlet went through. natasha singlehandedly paved the way for every other female superhero in the mcu and don't you forget that
INTRODUCING . . .
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🫧་༘࿐ marissa!cooper!reader
sheltered kook rich girl trouble forever dressed in chanel it girl ysl libre tomorrow never came by lana del rey glittery lip gloss and messy mascara altruistic soul disillusioned princess gold jewelry mazzy star
marissa!cooper!reader is the privileged yet troubled girl next door. her designer-label-packed wardrobe masks her turbulent mood swings and hard-partying ways. sees the good in people, even when it hurts her.
marissa!cooper!reader who is sarah cameron’s best friend, who’s brother rafe has had an eye on her since they were children. she’s sick of the kooks and meets a certain blonde haired pogue trouble maker who’s an escape from her shallow life on figure eight.
marissa!cooper!reader who always carries a chanel bag full of loose change, perfume samples, and a half-filled journal. tragic cool girl: a little lost, a little too dressed up for everything, with a heart that feels too much. her chaos is soft, her sadness is beautiful, and her sense of style is unmatched - even when everything else is falling apart.
🫧 marissa!cooper!reader works . . .
jj maybank !
whoever you want me to be
KATE SHARMA. 𝜗𝜚
“You have to live each hour as if it's your last and each day as if you were immortal.”
— Julia Quinn, The Viscount Who Loved Me
DAPHNE BRIDGERTON. 𝜗𝜚
“‘Did you know I always suspected that men were idiots,’ Daphne ground out, ‘but I was never positive until today.’”
— Julia Quinn, The Duke and I
A sister is not a friend. Who can explain the urge to take a relationship as primal and complex as a sibling and reduce it to something as replaceable, as banal as a friend? Yet this status is used again and again to connote the highest intimacy. True sisterhood is not the same as friendship. You don't choose each other and there is no furtive period of getting to know each other. You are a part of each other, right from the start. Look at an umbilical cord—tough, sinuous, unlovely, yet essential—and compare it to a friendship bracelet of brightly woven thread. That is the difference between a sister and a friend.
— Coco Mellors, Blue Sisters
LUCKY BLUE.
“When Lucky enters a room, it is like an electric eel slipping into a bowl of goldfish. She is sharp-witted and secretly shy. She taught herself to play the guitar while living in Tokyo and is pretty good but too self-conscious to ever perform in front of anyone. She still loves playing video games, loves any form of escape, in fact.”
— Coco Mellors, Blue Sisters
rest in peace to the funniest mfs on this show, they hate to see a bad bitch living
THE OPPS ARE WINNING FUCKKKK 😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔
👙 °❀* 𓍼:･ for the first time, leo does something nice for summer!roberts!reader but she doesn’t know how to handle it
summer!roberts!reader x leo valdez
You never meant to like Leo Valdez.
And honestly? You still don’t.
Well—you do. But you’d rather die than admit it.
Because Leo is… annoying. He’s loud, he’s messy, and he always smells like engine grease, which clashes horribly with your expensive perfume. His jokes? Barely funny. His pranks? Juvenile. His hair? A disaster.
And yet.
Somehow, some way, you always end up near him.
Like now.
You’re sitting at the Aphrodite cabin’s vanity, meticulously reapplying your lip gloss, when you smell him before you see him—burnt metal, oil, and something distinctly Leo.
“Ugh,” you groan. “What do you want, grease ball?”
“A good morning would be nice,” Leo says, completely unfazed. He plops down onto Drew’s bed (which is a death sentence, by the way) and stretches like he owns the place. “But nah, you’re too much of a princess for basic manners.”
You snap the cap of your gloss shut. “I have manners. I just save them for people I actually like.”
“Ouch.” Leo grins like you didn’t just insult him.
This is the problem with Leo Valdez. He never takes you seriously. No matter how many times you roll your eyes, insult his ridiculous tool belt, or threaten to throw him in the lake, he keeps coming back.
You turn in your seat, arms crossed. “What are you doing here, Leo?”
“Oh, right!” He sits up, suddenly excited, and pulls something from his pocket. “Made you something.”
Your eyes narrow. “If it explodes, I’m murdering you.”
“Relax, it’s not even flammable—well, not super flammable.” He hands you a small silver charm, shaped like a seashell. It’s surprisingly pretty, shimmering in the light.
You hesitate. You don’t… do handmade stuff. You like things expensive, designer, perfectly crafted—not whatever this is. But your fingers close around it anyway.
“What is it?”
Leo scratches the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, a lighter.”
You blink. “A what?”
He grins. “Look—just twist it like this—” He reaches over, his calloused fingers brushing yours as he clicks the shell open. A tiny pink flame flickers to life, burning without heat.
Your breath catches.
It’s the exact shade of your favorite lip gloss.
“It won’t burn you,” he says, almost shy now. “Just thought… y’know. If you ever needed a little extra fire.”
You don’t know what to say.
This isn’t a prank. This isn’t a joke. This is—thoughtful.
Which is so unfair. Because you were perfectly fine not thinking about Leo Valdez. But now? Now you have this stupid, pretty little lighter in your palm and the feeling that—maybe—you don’t hate him as much as you pretend to.
You snap the shell closed.
“It’s fine,” you say, voice carefully neutral. “Not ugly, I guess.”
Leo snorts. “Wow. High praise. Should I start crying now or later?”
You roll your eyes and shove him toward the door. “Out. Before I actually set you on fire.”
As he laughs and stumbles out, you glance down at the lighter again.
And maybe—just maybe—you smile.
friend! george weasley ೃ࿔*:
george weasley x fem!reader
and i hate the way you love me / and i hate that i still care / funny how you feel like we would ever talk again / how could you think i'd be your friend?
song: friend – gracie abrams
You don’t expect to run into him.
Not here, not now—not when you’ve done everything possible to avoid him.
But life doesn’t work like that, does it? Life likes to laugh in your face, to put you in situations you aren’t ready for.
So of course, it’s George bloody Weasley standing in front of you, looking at you like he still knows you.
Like he still has the right to.
“Hey,” he says, a little cautious, a little hopeful.
And you hate that.
You hate that he thinks he can just talk to you. Like nothing happened, like nothing’s changed, like he didn’t rip you open and leave you there to figure out how to put yourself back together.
You hate that some stupid, small, broken part of you still wants to hear his voice.
So you say nothing.
You can tell he wasn’t expecting that.
George has always been good with people, always been charming, magnetic, impossible to stay mad at.
He probably thought this would be easy.
A simple, Hey, sorry I was an arse, but we can be friends now, right?
As if that’s an option.
As if he didn’t wreck you.
As if his love wasn’t the most painful thing you ever had to survive.
“I miss you.”
It’s quiet, softer than you’ve ever heard him.
And for the first time since he showed up, you laugh.
Because of course he misses you.
Of course he thinks that matters.
You meet his gaze, and something inside you twists. Because damn him, he still looks like the George you knew.
The one who used to make you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, the one who used to look at you like you were magic.
The one who loved you.
The one who let you believe it.
And then broke your heart anyway.
“You think we’ll ever talk again?” you ask, voice sharp, cutting.
He swallows, brow furrowing. “I—”
“How could you think I’d be your friend?”
George flinches. And good. Good. Because he should know how it feels.
He should know what it’s like to be left with nothing but regret and unanswered questions.
He should know what it’s like to love someone who never learned how to love you back the way you needed.
You shake your head, exhaling. “I hate the way you love me.”
His breath hitches. “I—”
“And I hate that I still care,” you continue, voice quieter, rawer. “Because I do. And I shouldn’t. But I do.”
Something cracks in his expression.
For the first time, he looks like he understands.
Like he finally, finally gets it.
But it’s too late.
Because you’re done being the one who cares more.
So you turn and walk away.
And this time?
He doesn’t follow.
👙 °❀* 𓍼:･ summer!roberts!reader gets interrupted from a very much needed tanning session by a certain pain in the ass
summer!roberts!reader x percy jackson
“Ew!” you shrieked in disgust. “Get that away from me, Jackson!”
“Relax princess, you’re scaring poor Molly here.” He smiled, while still holding the ugly thing right in your face.
“Perseus Jackson if you don’t get that slug out of my face right now, I will punch you in the face.” You exclaimed, shoving him away with your one free hand that isn’t holding a Vogue right now.
Because that’s what you’ve been doing before you got so rudely interrupted–reading your fashion magazine on a towel at the beach while tanning and listening to music on your wired headphones. That was, until you looked up and sat face-to-face with a slimy little plague. And Molly the slug of course.
At that, Percy pulled Molly away, still smirking. “You’re a drama queen, you know that?”
You shot him a glare, which of course he couldn’t see because of your Gucci sunglasses. “Well excuse me for not wanting to bond with slimy sea creatures.”
“It’s a land creature, actually.” he corrected.
If you could give yourself an aneurysm by rolling your eyes, you’re sure you have one right now. “Whatever, Pervy-“
“It’s Percy and you know that.”
“I came out here to relax and not be harassed by you.” you huffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dirt off your Victoria Secret bikini.
Percy plopped down next to you on the towel, completely unbothered by the fact that he was still dripping wet from the ocean. Typical. You scooted an inch away to avoid your magazine getting wet.
“You know,” he said, putting his hands behind his head, “for a daughter of Aphrodite, you sure have a lot of opinions.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I just giggle and flip my hair like some brainless airhead?”
“Well…” he teased, pretending to think.
You smacked his arm. “Ugh, you’re like so annoying.” you say, fighting off a smile that was threatening to appear on your glossy lips.
And he noticed. Of course he did, Percy Jackson noticed everything about you. He grinned. “And yet, here you are, willingly hanging out with me.”
“Excuse you! I was here first,” you pointed out.
“Ah! Details, details,” he said, leaning back on his elbows and smiling up at you.
You rolled your eyes and went back to flipping through your magazine. But despite yourself, you allowed yourself to smile, turning away from him so he couldn’t see and ignoring the weird feeling in your stomach.
As much as Percy drove you insane, Camp Half-Blood wouldn’t be nearly as fun without him.
Even if he had zero fashion sense.
INTRODUCING . . .
👙 °❀* 𓍼:･ summer!roberts!reader
daughter of aphrodite rich girl professional shopper rage black outs 2000s music viva la juicy & sol de janeiro 40 victoria secret cute bikinis bossy mentally a princess high maintenance tanning very dramatic
summer!roberts!reader who’s the camps own princess. doesn’t take shit from anyone. she always speaks her mind. can smell her perfume from a mile away. best friends with her sister drew and to everyone’s surprise annabeth chase. has a soft spot for the children at camp.
summer!roberts!reader loves partying and going out with her friends and most of all, shopping. spoiled rotten by her father. lover of all things 2000s. perceived as dumb by most people even though she’s just shallow. always tanning by the lake.
summer!roberts!reader is very high maintenance and at the same time untouchable for everyone in camp. love language is physical touch & bullying. she knows her worth and won’t settle for anything less.
HERMIONE GRANGER.
“Actually I’m highly logical which allows me to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others overlook.”
— Golden Trio Era
So, I had this weird dream on the plane over… Let me guess, you were a clip on the seat belts? No, I know, you were a valve in those annoying fans that blow cold air on you? I can never turn those things off… No. No, uh… I was me, and you were you, standing where you are right now, perfect. And I took you in my arms, in a manly kind of way. Like this. And said, “Rosie Dunne, can I take you to the dance?” Better late than never.
GIDEON PREWITT.
“Everything is Gideon Prewitt sensory overload, but then I don’t think there could even be such a thing. I don’t think there could ever be too much of him.”
— Emma Mills, Foolish Hearts
FOOLISH HEARTS.
“I could consider it for a lot of moments, if left unchecked. Not just the kiss in the hall outside the auditorium, but the ones in the parking lot afterward and at the cast party and on the street outside after the cast party. Gideon with his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright, close enough that he was blurry saying I like you, you know. Like so much, so much, so much— each one punctuated by a kiss to a different place.”
— Emma Mills, Foolish Hearts
