#no it was because this one was a FUCKING GIANT
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p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk
this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao
warnings. nsfw. minors DNI
info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist!
haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here.
more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!
Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.
Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.
The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.
A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.
He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.
buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.
The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.
You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.
A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.
Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:
"SHUT UP!"
"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"
You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.
"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"
His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.
"Yeah, that's me."
You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.
"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"
A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.
"I was nervous," He admitted.
The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.
Your face fell.
"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.
"How long have you been in here?!"
"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"
It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--
You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.
"Get out!!"
The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.
"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"
There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.
"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.
You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.
It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.
There was a violent hush over the two of you.
Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.
"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."
The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"
You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.
When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.
You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.
To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.
Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"
His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.
Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.
"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.
Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.
"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."
Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.
"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."
"He's a senior, isn't he?"
"Mhm."
"So you're a second-year."
"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.
"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."
In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.
"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.
"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."
His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.
"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.
The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.
"What made you want to give me your number?"
Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.
In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.
"Hmm..." You drawled.
An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.
"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"
Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.
"-I think it's really hot."
A pause. "Wait- really?"
"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."
"Wow."
Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.
You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.
"What are you wearing right now?"
Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.
Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"
Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.
"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."
Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.
Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."
The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.
"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.
"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.
His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.
He laughed at your whine.
"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.
Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.
You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.
Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.
"How long would a train ride be?"
He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.
The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."
Your pussy practically shut down.
"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.
Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.
"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"
"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."
His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.
"There's just one problem."
You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.
"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.
His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."
You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.
If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.
It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.
The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.
"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."
It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.
"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."
Your jaw dropped again.
"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."
An annoyed sound left you.
"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.
Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.
Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."
You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.
"I still wanna see ya," He added.
You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."
It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.
How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?
Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.
"How good are you at climbing?"
taglist.
thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)
@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin
masterlist.
requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)
#takesone#x reader#haikyu fluff#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu asahi#asahi x reader#asahi azumane#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#azumane asahi#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smau#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fanfiction#hq x reader#azumane asahi x reader#asahi x reader smut#asahi azumane x reader smut#haikyuu asahi azumane#haiku#asahi smut#asahi azumane smut#size difference#size k!nk#size difference asahi
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Continuing on from my last ask, ruler of worlds Tim Drake being their baby leader and mascot, has a lot of unofficial merch. He has cups, bowls, bags, sacrificial knifes etc. he finds this out on a live TV interview with one of his subjects (bc he would absolutely mingle with them to find out what the people want). He blushes bright red and after a minute or so of panic a label is shown on screen of "DUE TO OUR OVERLORD'S PHYSIOLOGY, HE TURNS RED WHEN SURPRISED"
People take this to mean that their beloved baby king doesn't KNOW how loved he is!!! He's just a baby and they haven't been communicating it well!! This leads to giant posters of Tim around multiple planets with the caption "THIS IS OUR BELOVED BABY" in *earth language*. As there isn't one agreed upon earth language, they are all in different languages. But if one has an 'earth translator' they can probably tell you what it is.
Bonus points if; on planets that aren't being recommended an overlord, Tim is seen as someone who is so scary, he took over multiple planets!! With no opposition!!! Terrifying!!! Then they investigate and see the baby posters......
Is this planet scarier than we thought?? This clearly VICIOUS WARLORD who OVERTAKES PLANETS is seen as baybee????
Am I insane ? Probs but idk man
Baby mascot overlord Tim is adorable.
Another funny aspect to add would be the planets raving about how much they love and appreciate Tim. They talk about him as if he's a really small kid. They babyfy the fuck out of him, and then he's out here taking down droves of aliens and manipulating brutal dictators into giving up their planets to him.
His people are cooing at him and making merch as he's leaving a trail of bodies (unconscious) in his wake.
This terrifies the shit out of individuals not from one of the planets he owns because that is so obviously a cult. How the fuck do you look at a nearly grown adult dripping in the blood of his enemies and call him a cutie pie? Is Tim forcing them to do this? Are they all brainwashed?
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Fall of Númenor Dashboard Simulator
🦢 fruitofnimloth Following
I don't know what kind of propaganda everyone's been drinking lately, but some of y'all are really starting to scare me.
So friendly reminder:
We're not. Meant. To be immortal.
We already have a longer lifespan than most normal humans. Stop being so entitled, y'all.
💎 immortal-warrior Follow
How is it entitled to think that it's unfair that we don't get to be immortal? If it weren't for us, Sauron would've conquered all of Middle-earth!
We deserve immortality for kicking Sauron's ass!
🦢 fruitofnimloth Following
This is exactly the kind of entitlement I was talking about.
#my posts #the gift of men
( 23,456 notes )
🔥 priestess-of-melkor Follow
You became Melkor's acolyte to gain immortality.
I became Melkor's acolyte to
✨ fuck Zigûr ✨
We are not the same.
( 560 notes )
🛡️ lordofandunie18 Follow
CALLOUT FOR AR-PHARAZÔN
This will be my very last post.
For the sake of Númenor, I have to try and appeal to the Valar, just as Eärendil did back in the First Age. If I fail to return, I want all of my followers to pack up and prepare to leave. It's only a matter of time before this island comes to ruin.
Before I leave, I must spread the truth about the king. Though it pains me to do this, I cannot stand by and let his cruelty pass anymore. Here's the truth about Ar-Pharazôn, King of Númenor.
TW: rape, incest, domestic abuse, blasphemy against the Valar, violence.
Read more
( 36 notes )
🌾 farmgirlofnumenor Following
Okay, anyone else seriously angry about this new temple that the king's building right now???
Before anyone yells at me, I'm not a Faithful, but I'm not one of the King's Men. I'm just sick of the king's overspending on stupid projects and his obsession with becoming immortal.
There are food shortages in the countryside! People are starving to death and all the king cares about is building this temple! But all these nobles care about is immortality, and I'm just so tired of it all.
Oh, and if you come at me about how I should be blaming the Valar or worshiping Melkor, I will block you.
🌿 forest-lover Follow
Well said, my friend!
All the people criticizing you in the notes must be city people feeling so called out for spending their money on cheap makeup and fake treatments. If you feel insulted by this post, then you're part of the problem.
Quit focusing on making yourselves immortal and focus on helping your people for once!
( 150 notes )
👑 jewel-daughter-miriel Following
The storms are growing worse. The ground is shaking beneath my feet, and I can see smoke coming from the Meneltarma.
This will most likely be my last post. Númenor is lost, and there's no hope of saving it.
I can only hope that the end will come quickly.
( 50 notes )
🕊️ pelargirl Mutuals
Istg the King's Men are so entitled.
They all act like they deserve immortality because they happen to have longer lifespans than most humans.
But you're all ready to sacrifice innocent people and wage war in the south, all because you kicked Sauron's ass thousands of years ago.
You're all awful people and I hope that Eru smites you all.
#i'm so glad i fled to pelargir #to all my faithful friends still in romenna #please stay safe #vent posts #do not reblog
( 9 notes )
🦂 harad-traveller Follow
Reblog if you want a giant wave to swallow Númenor
Likes to charge, reblogs to cast!
💠 long-live-westernesse Follow
Wow, this is so rude. We literally introduced so many things to you Haradrim and this is how you thank us???
And y'all wonder why we destroyed your cities.
🏜️ deserts-of-the-south Follow
Anyways, reblog to destroy Númenor!
#entitled numenoreans
( 500,738 notes )
⚔️ soldier-of-armenelos Follow
*kicks down door*
WAKE UP BABES WE'RE INVADING THE UNDYING LANDS
LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!
( 5,650 notes )
🐋 nostalgic-numenor Follow
The coastline of Hyarrostar, before the Shadow
#vintage photos #numenor #faithful #elendili #hyarrostar #nostalgia
( 365 notes )
🐚 faithful-and-tired Following
Is it bad that I actually kinda enjoy watching Númenor sink? I mean, it sucks that my home is gone, but after everything that Ar-Pharazôn did, I'm just glad that the trash took itself out.
I hope Sauron also got swept up in that wave.
🌊 maidenofandustar Follow
Bro people are dying wtf is wrong with you???
I say this as someone whose sister was sacrificed by the King's Men. I know we all suffered, but not all of those people were King's Men!
We should never celebrate innocent people dying, or we're no better than Ar-Pharazôn and Sauron.
🐚 faithful-and-tired Following
Girl my entire family was sacrificed in the Temple of Melkor.
I really don't care about 'being the bigger person'.
I just hope Ar-Pharazôn and all of those pathetic King's Men are drowning like rats right now.
( 115 notes )
🗡️ isildur3209 Following
We finally arrived in Middle-earth. It was a rough journey, but we're all safe, if not a little tired.
My brother, wife, and son are safe and sound. However, we got separated from our father's ship thanks to the waves. Don't know what we're gonna do, but for now, I'm gonna take some time to rest and grieve for my home.
#personal #numenor
( 45 notes )
Previous post here
#the silmarillion#silmarillion#the silm fandom#the silm#the fall of numenor#akallabeth#amandil#isildur#tar miriel#sauron#numenor#tolkien#jrr tolkien#middle earth dashboard simulator#dashboard simulator#tw unreality
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Listen I know we all wanna project and use Marcille as our stand in for fucking giant chimera Falin, but it must be said: Marcille is not a monsterfucker herself, and she wants Falin back to normal asap. We know this because Marcille canonically has awful taste. This makes it all the more tragic that she's the one getting Falin's post-transformation dragon dick, the one person that doesn't appreciate it.
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I plan on voting for Biden in November. But it’s terrible. A vote for him is still a vote that will not significantly improve our deepest and most troubling social problems. He won’t give us Medicare for All or any other badly needed boosts to social programs. He will probably continue to support policies that actively oppress BIPOC. He will not help us. He’s also a sexual predator. Truly, I do not want to vote for this man. This is not the man I wanted to vote for. I don’t want him in office. He is simply not good enough. This man doesn’t represent what I want at all.
But if I don’t vote for Biden in November, I feel like I’m making it that much easier for Trump to win another election. And I want that even less than I want a Biden presidency. I don’t want another 4 years of what we have now. No fucking way. No.
I’m so conflicted. I feel like there is blood on my hands. I feel like I’m casting a vote for death and misery if I’m not voting for a progressive candidate with a progressive platform.�� I feel like I’m committing nothing short of an atrocity no matter what I choose to do. I don’t want to harm people, and yet, won’t I essentially be doing exactly that? I just want to do the right thing. I don’t want to bring harm, or perpetuate harm towards anyone.
Trump will probably win anyway. He’s doing all he can to ensure that, and it will probably work. The impending climate disaster will kill us all because we will clearly continue to do nothing. Our bodies will be riddled with micro and nanoplastics. America will become an even more of an inhospitable police state.
Nobody will hold Biden accountable for anything if he wins, and he’ll never give us the public policies we desperately need.
“Is this what hope feels like? I’d forgotten,” you tweeted recently. How? And for what? I see nothing but bad things to come. I feel a deep sense of hopelessness and despair.
There are plenty of reasons to feel hopelessness and despair right now, but with regard to Joe Biden, you are wasting a whole bunch of negative emotions on a giant pile of shitty beliefs that just aren’t true.
First, and let me be very clear on this one, Joe Biden is not a sexual predator. He’s just not. Believe me, I would be shouting it from the rooftops if I thought he were. When Tara Reade went public, I took her allegations very seriously. I gave her extra helpings of the benefit of the doubt, but it turned out there was a mountain of evidence suggesting that Reade has always been a lying, manipulative grifter (which I didn’t want to be true), and there was another mountain of evidence suggesting that the predatory behavior alleged by Reade is simply not in Biden’s character (which I was very reluctant to trust). There was a time when I was hopeful that Reade’s accusations might even knock Biden out of the race, but I’m not the kind of person who believes a thing merely because I want it to be true. It’s fine if you want to criticize Biden for what appears to be a history of awkward or retrospectively inappropriate behavior. Hell, you can even buy into all that “Creepy Uncle Joe” bullshit, but you’re just plain wrong if you insist that Joe Biden is a sexual predator. (Obviously, the same cannot be said of Donald Trump, who is a straight-up serial rapist with a list of at least twenty-five women who have publicly and credibly accused him of sexual assault.)
As for your policy concerns, I understand your frustration. I would love to be voting for a far-left ultra-progressive firebrand of a candidate in the upcoming general election. That would feel wonderful, right up until the moment that she loses in a landslide, and I guarantee you, a far-left ultra-progressive candidate would get her ass handed to her by Trump. That’s not an outcome we can afford as a species, much less as a nation. You understand this, which is why you still plan on voting for Biden. Good. I’m really glad you’re not being a purist asshole about this. The evil garbage monsters in the GOP just love a left-wing purist who refuses to vote responsibly. Republicans are desperately praying to their imaginary white Jesus that all the Green Party crunch bars will fuck it up for the rest of us like they did back in 2016. We cannot let that happen again.
Listen, I’m not gonna try and convince you to like Joe Biden. You’re already gonna vote for him, so I’m perfectly fine if you hate his breathing guts. What I do want from you is a little maturity, some vision, and a realistic sense of scale. No one candidate will ever be the solution to our problems — not Bernie, not Liz, and certainly not Joe. At best, a candidate is a vector, a course correction, a desperately needed step in the right direction. That’s all we can expect from Biden, and he is bringing it. He’s bringing it every single day with a list of policy positions that are more progressive than any President’s in the history of the United States, and he most certainly brought it with the selection of Kamala Harris as his running mate.
Biden recognizes his place in history. He knows he is little more than a national stop-gap, a post-Trump tourniquet to stanch the bleeding. His Vice-Presidency and eventual Presidency will be a line of demarcation between two very distinct chapters of American history. This is more than just bridging the Boomer/Millennial generational divide. In the distant future (if we have one), it is my sincerest hope that Biden will be remembered as “The Last of the Old White Men,” a happy warrior who marked the end of a certain kind of Modern America and who helped usher in a new kind of Postmodern America. Those terms are clunky and loaded and absolutely will not stand the test of time, but we’re not the ones who get to name what we’re about to become. We’re the ones who have to keep doing the hard work to finally get us there, and that’s why I really need you to change your whole fucking attitude.
This shit is going to be grueling. The fight will be brutal if not bloody, and there is absolutely no room for whiners and layabouts. You want to improve our deepest and most troubling social problems? Great. Quit moaning about doing harm with your vote and go do some actual good with your own two fucking hands. Pulling a lever in a voting booth every couple years is the bare minimum. In terms of civic duty, it is the absolute least you can do. Of course Biden won’t give us Medicare for All. Neither would Sanders or Warren. That’s not how any of this works. Presidents don’t give us shit. We do it ourselves. We demand it, loudly and with force, and over long stretches of time, with enough solidarity and sustained action, laws are enacted and policies change.
I was around when the Clintons tried deadlifting their universal health care plan off the ground back in 1993. Maybe you remember it, maybe you weren’t even born yet, but that’s how long this shit takes. It’ll have been three fucking decades and two fucking generations of Democrats trying desperately to kick that gutbucket up Capitol Hill by the time we finally get around to some semblance of a single payer healthcare system. Thirty fucking years, my friend. That’s the kind of patience and perseverance the American experiment demands of us, so quit your fucking whining. Enough with all the pearl-clutching and hand-wringing. Take all your conflicted navel gazing bullshit and toughen the fuck up, buttercup.
You are on the right side of history. You are with the good guys. Quit your fucking bitching, and get out there and help us win.
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warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)
i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.
i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333
essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
warmth
“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”
Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite.
“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more.
“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”
“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end.
“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him,
“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”
A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat.
“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”
Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,
“I was --”
The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat.
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Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers.
“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast.
“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”
Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway.
The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies.
“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end.
“You made it.”
Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here.
“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.
When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently.
“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”
Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes.
You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing.
“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”
“Oh, just a while—”
“Seven years,” Art interjected.
“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh.
You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.”
It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends.
“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”
Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore.
“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed.
“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.”
Clink clink clink.
“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options.
“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”
A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.
The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that.
By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year, more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag.
“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table.
“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."
"And give us a little speech?"
"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."
At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly.
“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”
You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.
"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.
"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.
You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.
"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.
You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee.
“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”
Art chuckled,
“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”
Patrick scoffed playfully,
“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”
You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt.
“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”
Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,
“Do you think about anything specific?”
Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips.
“Just what good times we had.”
A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly.
“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”
“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal.
You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.
You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider.
“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease.
“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken.
“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place.
“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.
They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you.
“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.
“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”
“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.
“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”
“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”
He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes.
Then Art, always second but not necessarily last,
“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?”
His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.
You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.
“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”
“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.
Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,
“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”
Art started to stammer,
“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”
“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”
“Charles?”
“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”
“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly.
“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”
“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time.
You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.
“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”
You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath.
“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”
And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.
They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.
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eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3
#challengers#challengers smut#challengers fic#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson imagine#patrick zweig imagine#x reader#x black reader#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x black reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x black! reader
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I love Payos so much. This man has basically no passion for dancing or singing and yet here he is doing it all the time because of this giant crush he has on his best friend who, frankly, a bit of an asshole. But Payos loves him and so he just... keeps going.
(Then having the entire actual confession just be a daydream makes so much more sense... but it still feels like a bit of a cheat. Like, what is this show's plan with them? )
But also holy fuck was this a depressing moment for me. Payos' only dreams about and around Potae. He has no dreams of his own. His dreams are only of loving this man and being next to him even though he can't seem to confess. Like... that's painful. Anyone who is living like this... please, please, build yourself up outside of that One Relationship. I promise, it'll pay off. Have your own dreams! Love is not a replacement for dreams and passion.
And this is even more poignant because Moo knows that Payos is in love with Tae and that he's doing this out of romantic love and all of that... oof. Rough. This is just rough.
Ta'es a biiiitch. And Moo is a baby.
#only boo#only boo the series#payospotae#bl series#bl drama#thai drama#thai bl#thaibl#thai bl series#asian lgbtq dramas#thai series#asianlgbtqdramas#thai bl drama#gmmtv#gmmtv series#gmmtv bl
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Bethyl incorrect quotes
Daryl: you’re so fucking beautiful
Daryl: it pisses me off
Daryl: all I can think about is your stupid lips and your longass eyelashes
Daryl: I have a reputation to keep up!
Daryl: so if you could just stop I would love that
Beth: ………..thanks?
Beth: *crouching over in pain*
Daryl: what happened?
Beth: ….nothing
Daryl: I promise I’ll stay calm, just tell me
Beth: I just stubbed my toe on the chair
Daryl, pulling out his knife: WHICH CHAIR?!?!?!
Beth: when I said bring me back something from the beach I meant like a conch shell
Daryl, struggling to hold a seagull: fucking say that next time!
Beth: the stars are so beautiful…..
Daryl: they’re just giant balls of gas
Beth: you know what, if you’re just gonna ruin this—
Daryl: and yet none of them are as huge as my love for you
Beth: oh
Beth: hey you wanna take a shower with me?
Daryl: if I ever say no to that question I want you to take my crossbow and shoot me in the head because I’ve clearly gone inshane
Daryl: who hurtcha?
Beth: what? You want a list or somethin’?
Daryl, loading his crossbow: yeah
Rick: why are Beth and Daryl sitting with their backs to each other?
Carol: they had a fight
Rick: then why are they holding hands?
Carol: they get sad when they fight
Carl: is stabbing someone immoral?
Daryl: not if they consent to it
Michonne: depends on who you’re stabbing
Beth & Rick: YES?!?!?
Daryl: how do I make a date really romantic?
Carol: be mysterious
*later*
Beth: so where are we goin’?
Daryl: none of your fuckin’ business
*playing twister*
Glenn: left hand green
Daryl: *ends up on top of Beth*
Beth: you’re doin’ this on purpose aren’t you?
Glenn: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly I’m surprise you didn’t notice
Glenn: I thought Daryl was your boyfriend
Beth to the rest of the group: who else thought Daryl was my boyfriend?
Beth: …….Daryl put your hand down
Carol: hey Daryl are you free tonight around 8?
Daryl: yeah…..?
Carol: and you Beth?
Beth: umm yeah
Carol: great! Because I’m not, you kids enjoy your date!
Beth: did she just…….
Daryl: I wanna be with you for the rest of my life
Beth: that sounds like a marriage proposal
Daryl, getting down on one knee: that’s ’cause it is
Daryl: Beth and I are no longer dating
Beth: Daryl that is the worst way to tell people we’re married!!!
#bethyl#daryl dixon#beth greene#twd incorrect quotes#twd daryl#twd#the walking dead incorrect quotes#the walking dead daryl#the walking dead#the walking dead beth#team delusional#bethyl incorrect quotes
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omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹
hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)
Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜
When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA
"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes.
Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent.
"I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.
Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)
Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.
Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)
Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.
A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous
He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend.
In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better.
~*~
Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.
Meant to be One by sunhazeheart
His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it.
It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack.
Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears.
Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.
The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse
"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight."
Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."
To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic
Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.
Where the Shadow Ends by Green
Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.
The Hills Call
Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.
The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter
To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.
I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...
#sterek#sterek fic#stiles x derek#sterek fanfic#eternal sterek#stiles stilinski#derek hale#derek x stiles#sterek fanfiction#sterek fic rec#i also didn't check how many of these are abo#probably a lot lol#idc i love it#genuinely like i went through my saved historical fics#and the majority was dexterous and DarkAthena
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tenjiku with a reader who is totally opposite to them hehe
Tenjiku x Opposite!Reader
♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, mentions of violence/fighting, mention of Sanzu ♡
Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mucho, Mochi, Shion
note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷 sorry it's so late lol
❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀
Izana
🎴 Izana is cold, manipulative, and downright vindictive
🎴 So it was very odd that he ended up catching your eye, because why would someone so sweet and naive want his crazy ass?
🎴 Treats you differently than everyone else around him because in his eyes you're a precious angel and need to be treated with the utmost care
🎴 If someone so much as disturbs a hair on your head, he's kicking (and breaking) their hand
Kakucho
🩷 Kakucho is an absolute sweetheart and wouldn't hesitate to protect the people he cares about, including you
🩷 He's the rational one and you honestly act like Izana, impulsive asf
🩷 He keeps you in check and scolds you when you do bad things
🩷 Constantly telling you to check your attitude
Ran
💜 Ran is a lot more out there than you fr
💜 He's outspoken and won't hesitate to beat someone up, but he's also lazy as all hell
💜 You're way more energetic and always wake him up early (which he hates) and you tend to avoid confrontation with other people
💜 Which is why your guard dog of a boyfriend is always by your side to kick some ass for you
Rindou
🩵 Rindou is pretty introverted and standoffish, apart from when he's fighting of course
🩵 You're way more extroverted and always try to introduce him to new people and take him to different places
🩵 You teach him how to be more outgoing and social, and he shows you how to not give a fuck lol
Mucho
💙 He's big and serious (also seriously big 😮💨)
💙 The size difference is almost comical, not to mention the fact that you're really carefree and seem to not be bothered by anything
💙 You're probably the only one who can get him to crack a smile
💙 Introduces you to Sanzu because he feels like you two would get along (immediately regrets it because you're a bad influence on Sanzu 😭)
Mochi
🍡 This man is a damn giant compared to you lmao
🍡 Always carrying you around on his back or shoulder
🍡 He's a lot more cheerful than you, especially when he's fighting other people
🍡 The type of man to play fight with you to cheer you up and accidentally hurt you in the process 😐
Shion
♥️ Shion is a total dumbass (+ an absolute dork), so he felt like the luckiest man alive when he bagged you
♥️ You're way too smart and responsible for him, but that's a good thing
♥️ You keep him out of trouble and teach him good habits
♥️ You also patch him up after fights and scold the hell out of him, but he wouldn't want it any other way
❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀
Taglist
@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe
#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers fluff#tenjiku x reader#izana x reader#kakucho x reader#ran x reader#rindou x reader#mochi x reader#mucho x reader#shion x reader#pretend I put all those fluff tags lol I'm lazy asf#these men have my heart...among other things lol
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Wake up call for ballistic Team Black and Rhaenyra Stan’s.
TW: Opinions and bad language.
Rhaenyra “rules for thee, none for me” Targaryen. Rhaenyra “Aegon wants to usurp my throne” but when it comes to my obvious bastard sons… nah, they’ll get this land and titles because they’re trueee Valeryeon’s (meanwhile, there’s actual Valeryeon’s who’d step up to the mantle but can’t ’cause Rhaenyra’s daddy is a fucking moron who doomed his family).
Whether Rhaenyra Stan’s want to admit it or not, Rhaenyra is a hypocrite and makes some of the most dumbest mistakes because of how spoiled and shortsighted she is. She doesn’t seem to care about consequences and constantly reaps what she sows.
She had a choice in marriage to any lord in the kingdom, which would have been a massive political advantage, but she blew it and had to marry a guy who wasn’t even straight. Not only that, she had a choice in having three bastard kids. Westeros literally has forms of birth control that she could’ve had at any moment. But noooo. Rhaenyra didn’t think ”hmm having kids with someone I’m not married to will have massive consequences and would essentially arm my enemies with more ammo on why I shouldn’t have the throne. I live in a culture that’s horribly misogynistic and everyone already doubts me because I was born with a vagina. But I’ll have two more kids even though they’ll be targeted the rest of their lives.”
What a top mind you have, Rhaenyra!
Ooooh, and i hate when she was like “now they see as you are”, bitch, what? “Now they see you as you are” - you mean a woman trying to get justice for her bullied child, who was now maimed by one of his bullies? Omg, can you imagine what Rhaenyra would have done if Jace had been the one to have his eye removed? And Viserys would have 100% let her. Matter of fact, he would have encouraged it.
I think at that moment, Alicent knew her children’s lives were in danger. Even if she hadn’t done anything at that point, besides essentially being the perfect queen and somewhat bad mother (who’s a perfect mom when you’re forced to marry and have kids before you’re even 18), her rightfully royal children were in sooo much danger, and it was proven at that moment.
And Daemyra is so god damn mf stupid. Daemon. Is. Loyal. To. Himself. And. Ceraxes. Rhaenyra is essentially a tool to put his blood (and himself) on the throne, and that’s pretty much it. He’s a complete psychopath, pedophile, and power hungry. Just because he treats her well sometimes, doesn’t mean he’s not the same Daemon who killed his last wife.
Every Rhaenyra Stan is like “Rhaenyra would never let anything happen to Alicent and her kids :)” but let’s be so fucking fr right now - Daemon would definitely kill them. Why the fuck would he ever let Otto Hightower’s kid, grandkids and great grandkids live, and even have the slightest chance against him? And Rhaenyra would let him. He literally choked her, and she’s the heir to the throne and he faced ZERO real consequences for that.
Okay, so hypothetically, let’s say Rhaenyra wins the throne, and all the Greens are dead. No one is that much of a threat to Targaryen rule, and Rhaenyra is to become queen officially. Daemon is king. Daemon. Is. King. And they still live in Misogynistic ass Westeros, and Rhaenyra is still a woman. You know how easily Daemon could just pull a “Give me that crown, everyone wants a king anyway and they’ll obey me ‘cause I’ll fucking kill them with my giant ballistic Lizard like I’ve always done, but now I have a massive military who is also fucking misogynistic. You’ll have my heirs and that’s it. Thanks Rhaenyra!”?
Rhaenyra would never let Daemon go. She needs him. Even she said it. So what would she do if he wanted the throne? Nothing. He’d kill her if she fought against him. Mr. Daemon “I murdered my first wife to get what I want” Targaryen.
And before anyone calls me a misogynistic team green or whatever, no I’m not Team Green, I’m just tired of how Rhaenyra Stan’s pretend she’s some sort of saint and the perfect character. If this doesn’t apply to you, don’t bother with lecturing me.
Rhaenyra is not Daenerys, and never will be. Just because they’re both girls and aspire for the throne, doesn’t make it a #girlboss moment. Rhaenyra wants to continue Targaryen supremacy and rule over the small folk just like her ancestors before her. She’s a super spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anyone’s pain, and wants to use everyone else as her pawns. So, more like Cersei than Daeny.
Is Rhaenyra someone completely evil? No, but she’s a huge idiot.
Also, I do sympathize for both sides, but Rhaenyra and her fans just make me want to rip my hair off.
I wrote this in 20 fucking minutes so pls don’t get on my ass about spelling errors. Bye.
#anti daemon targaryen#anti team black#anti team green#got#game of thrones#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd season 2#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targaryen#daemyra#alicent hightower#hotd rhaenyra#hotd aemond#hotd aegon#hotd alicent#otto hightower#rant post#queen rhaenyra#team black#team green#pro alicent hightower
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I understand there’s time constraints and stuff but one of the things I want so badly it hurts in FNV is more creature diversity because the Mojave is just bursting with potential for amazing creature designs when you look at some of the creatures that live there
absolutely no fucking way it would be practical to include in an otherwise fully fleshed out action RPG but a fully simulated desert ecosystem with a mixture of mutated and non-mutated wildlife would be so cool... imagine cazadores preying on giant mutated tarantulas... multi-headed hydra-like rattlesnakes... cassowary-like roadrunners... and of course the Great Basin Spadefoot Toad perfect and unchanged
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Sorry to bother you, but dude. You're so fucking cool. Would you consider sharing your top three favorite books (and why, if you feel like it)? Your aesthetic and taste in media is so fucking *it*
Thank you :)
you're not bothering me at all! in fact you just made me smile like an idiot, so thank you 🫀
I think picking a top three is almost impossible for me, but I can do a top 5:
1. we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson
this is my favourite book of all time. nothing else has ever made me feel like reading this book did. the prose is so beautiful in its raw simplicity, a childish fantasy stated so matter-of-factly you have no choice but to let go of any sense of reason that might prevent you form feeling the words as having sprung from your own mind the instant you are reading them, and the narrator's intimate inner monologue draws you in so magnetically into her enchantingly morbid world of twisted logic and sympathetic magic – it's the sweetest nightmare you never want to wake up from.
2. house of leaves by mark z. danielewski
what is there still to say about house of leaves? it's as good as everyone says it is. I fought for my relationship with this book – we did not get along at all for quite a while – and it was worth it. I think it might have actually made it even better in the end. i feel like this book knows me somehow, like we have a reciprocal relationship with each other in which we are both active parties. I don't think any other work of art has ever given me that. it's the proverbial abyss staring back into you, luring you into its depths and never letting you go again.
3. autobiography of red by anne carson
autobiography of red is a verse novel, so you could think of it as one big poem, and it's beautifully written. the blurring and blending of myth and reality and continuous shifting of fiction and recollection, impression and perception sweeps you up into a tale both ancient and timeless, tragic and hopeful, about a boy who is a monster, or maybe a giant, with three bodies or maybe six hands, a shepherd or a dragon, a son with a red red heart. also, it's gay.
4. piranesi by susanna clarke
piranesi is a bit as if the house from house of leaves cared for you and was also built by plato. it kind of sneaks up on you gently, dangerously but never with malicious intent. it wants to lead you to a place inside yourself that you've never been to or maybe have just forgotten, and uncover what lies in wait there. most of it is love.
5. frankenstein by mary shelley
and for the last one, a classic. I kind of put off reading this for a long time, because I wanted to like it so badly and was very scared I wouldn't, or at least not to a degree that would satisfy, as is unfortunately often the case for me with these kinds of "important" things. but I was so pleasantly surprised. it wasn't hard to get into or inaccessible at all, it didn't bore or alienate me, on the contrary. it touched me so deeply and unexpectedly I didn't stop thinking about it for quite a while. it truly deserves its status in my eyes.
also because I couldn't resist, a visual representation of nine of my favourite books:
I hope you will find something worth your while in at least one of them!
#we have always lived in the castle#shirley jackson#house of leaves#piranesi#frankenstein#autobiography of red
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Do you have all the videos you've made saved? Or at least the most pathetic ones?
You should get some cheap flash drives, load them up with all the depraved disgusting shit you've done, then drop them in the Walmart and liquor store parking lot when you do your weekly shopping to keep your ass drunk.
In the mean time chug from the bottle, slap your self, then fuck your throat so fast and rough you spit up the alcohol on your udders.
fell asleep before i got this one lol
i have most of my videos saved still yes, i need to get them on an external HD. and while this idea is hot to think about, it would never work because EVERYONE has been taught to not pick up an unknown flash drive and plug it in to their computer lmao
now maybe pieces of paper w my blog URL would be easier…
sorrryyyyy cant chug now but its always time for a giant bong rip 🩷🩷
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Would doing a cameo or guest spot on the Boys hurt Jared's branding? We found out today that Kripke seems to be tweeting him a lot, and I don't think it's about the revival from what Jared said about working out. For me it wouldn't be so much about nudity as my trust in his choices for projects in the future. Right now, I trusted him to watch a cowboy show of all things and loved the family vibe. But after an X rated gig, maybe not so much. Do agents and managers consider things like that or not
It's not the cameo or guest spot that is the issue per se, after all Charlize Theron had a funny cameo as an actress portraying one of the supes in a movie within a movie, and all lead actors do guest spots between their main projects.
There's main three things going on. First, Kripke is indulging in some of his worst impulses. He knows Amazon will censor out the graphic sexual and violent scenes, but it won't stop him from filming them for his own titillations.
Second, unsympathetic roles never help anyone's career. Just look at how much Misha disavowed Karla with excuses that he "didn't know" it was based on true events. Back then Misha was a struggling actor who accepted work whenever he can. The reason why Jared said he would like to play "thinking man villain" is because those type of villains are usually right in their thinking; they're just wrong in how they try to achieve their goal.
Third, if the guest role is an unsympathetic villain that gets killed by the good guys, then it goes against the upward trajectory of Jared's career. If you've seen the movie Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, there is a scene between Al Pacino and Leonardo di Caprio that explains this. Pacino plays a director to Caprio's Rick Dalton who is a fading lead tv star known for playing a heroic character name Jake Cahill on Western series, now is guest starring as bad guys in Western series. Rick has been offered a lead role in Italy's spaghetti Western movies that he's unsure of accepting.
Marvin Schwarz: You… You always play the bad guy on these (American) shows?
Rick Dalton: Yeah.
Marvin Schwarz: So, and they have a fight scene at the end of them?
Rick Dalton: Well, not… not… not Land of the Giants or F.B.I… but the rest, yeah. Yeah.
Marvin Schwarz: you lose in the fight?
Rick Dalton: Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m… I’m the heavy.
Marvin Schwarz: Oooh, That’s an old trick pulled by the networks.
Rick Dalton: *stunned*
Marvin Schwarz: Now, you take (new character) Bingo Martin, for example. Right? So you got a new guy (actor) like Scott Brown. You wanna build up his bona fides, right? So you hire a guy from a canceled show to play the heavy. Then at the end of the show, when they fight, it’s hero besting heavy. But what the audience sees… is Bingo Martin whipping Jake Cahill’s ass.
Rick Dalton: *taking it all in*
Marvin Schwarz: You see? Then next week, it’s Ron Ely. And next week, it’s Bob Conrad, wearing his tight pants, kicking your ass.
Rick Dalton (in a bit of denial): Yeah.
Marvin Schwarz: Now, in another couple of years, playing punching bag to every swinging dick new to the network, that’s gonna have a psychological effect… on how the audience perceives you.
Rick Dalton: Right.
Marvin Schwarz: So Rick, who’s gonna kick the shit out of you next week? Mannix? The Man from U.N.C.L.E.? The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.? How about Batman and Robin? Ping! Pow! Choom! Zoom! Down goes you, down goes your career as a leading man.
Rick Dalton: *silence*
Marvin Schwarz: Or do you go to Rome and star in Westerns… and win fucking fights? Ticket, señor?
Cliff Booth (played by Brad Pitt): All right....... What’s the matter, partner?
Rick Dalton: Well… it’s official, old buddy. I’m a has-been.
Cliff Booth: What are you talking about? What did that guy tell you?
Rick Dalton: He told me the goddamn truth, is what he told me.
Ever wonder why most action stars like Dwayne the Rock Johnson have in their contract that their characters never lose fights on screen? Because they don't want to even give audience the chance to have a subconscious idea that they're not lead stars.
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RG Gundam Epyon!
Wow, what a wonderful kit! Building this one was relatively straightforward and pleasant. There’s a LOT of undergating in this kit, which helps keep it clear of nib marks, but can be very challenging to remove at times due to the small scale of a 1/144 kit.
This was my first time doing water slide decals, and WOW was it tedious at first. After much trial and error, I got into a bit of a flow with it and it became easier. The payoff is terrific, too!
I used matte spray on this one to seal in the decals as I’m unsure of how safe they are after they dry. I wasn’t taking chances after accidentally wiping off the water slides half a dozen times throughout the detailing…
I really recommend this kit! It’s a bit pricey for an RG, but the engineering of the parts and ease of assembly make it so worth it. And look how great it looks! It can even transform into a goddamned twin-headed dragon, which I didn’t do because I was afraid of fucking up any single atom of the model after building.
If you can believe it, that whip/tail attachment on the arm is ONE ENTIRE PIECE you clip directly off the runner. If you’re newer to the hobby, you may want to skip applying EVERY detail sticker that comes in the kit, as you’d be doing >100 applications.
Epyon is not very balanced with the wings and giant sword attached. The mounting bracket for the stand attaches to the backpack, which puts it at an odd angle for non-adjustable stands (I snapped a peg off of a 3D printed one my girlfriend made me before taking the final pic…). If you have patience when trying to make it balance or a spare Action Base 5 lying around, go for it!
Build cutting and assembly took about 18 hours. Panel lining took another hour. The rest was all water slide decal application. (＞人＜;)
Total hours: 25
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