I Love Him Your Honor - Tumblr Posts
Never forget one of the baddest BBEGs loves vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkies. 🌈🍦🖤
I wrote a drabble for this, because I loved this moment so much. Enjoy. 😆
I interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you one of my favorite moments in television from 2007: a cutaway shot of Zachary Quinto randomly eating ice cream.
(Heroes 1x22: “Chapter Twenty-Two ‘Landslide’“)
Prosecutor: "This man is clearly guilty as fuck."
Me (the defense attorney): "OBJECTION! He's sexy."
Judge: "Sustained."
Me: *nods smugly*
Blorbo: *smirks (as blorbo's do) thus proving my point and winning over the jury*
im a blorbo apologist but also they did every bad thing they did and i will get mad if u ignore that. complexities
having halsin as a companion and party member is very funny because none of this shit is his problem he just likes you so much
"it's been a year, why are you still posting about him" because larian put the line "one night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to 200 years of misery" in their fucking game
could you do arda and rodrygo’s younger sister? with like lots of fluff and sweet stuff, sorry if this is super broad 😓
INTO YOU • ARDA GÜLER
( pairing ) arda güler x reader
this was so fun to write i hope u guys like it!
The stadium is still buzzing with excitement, the roar of the crowd echoing in your ears as you weave through the sea of fans. Tonight’s match had been exhilarating—one of those nail-biting games that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats. Real Madrid won, of course, with Rodrygo playing a crucial role in the success of tonight’s match.
You’re so incredibly proud of your brother, seeing him flourish in the sport that he’s dreamed of ever since he was a child. Football runs in his veins in a way you’ll never understand, but you can’t help but reminisce your childhood when he would bounce around with a ball and force you to play with him, teaching you little tricks and while you were never anywhere as close to the level that he is, you enjoyed the moments that you and your brother had, especially now that with his career taking off, they’ve become rare.
You’ve not been to many of his games, but there’s always something special about seeing your brother perform with that kind of magic on the pitch.
You’re here to congratulate him, to give him a hug and tell him how proud you are. It’s something you’ve done ever since he was a little boy playing in youth leagues back in Brazil, back when you’d both race to the car after every match, breathless and laughing, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. Back when both of you weren’t too busy with your own jobs taking up all your time, when childhood innocence still lingered about. Those were the days when he was just a kid with a dream—before he became the star he is today.
As you squeeze through the crowd of excited fans crowding the exits, you make your way toward the players. Your heart thrums in your chest, the jubilation of the rest of the stadium is so pragmatic, that you yourself feel euphoric, your face flushed as if you’re the one who’s just run around the field for ninety minutes.
There’s a feeling of anticipation that’s bubbling under your skin, and you can feel yourself vibrating under the excitement of it all, and perhaps you’re so distracted by the air of triumph that envelops the whole stadium that you’re blind to the presence of someone else, accidentally knocking into someone and almost stumbling face first into the ground.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” a voice says quickly, concerned.
You turn to see a young man standing there, his hair damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from exertion. You recognize him immediately—Arda Güler, your brother’s teammate, and one of the club's rising stars. You’ve seen him play countless times, but you’ve never actually met him face-to-face.
“It’s okay,” you say, smiling a little. “I was in the way.”
Arda looks flustered a little, his already red cheeks flaming further and his mouth drops open a little, an exhale escaping his mouth, as if someone has punched him in the stomach, only his eyes seem far too delighted for that, wide with glee and something more that you can’t understand. It confuses you, why he seems to look as if he’s seen heaven on earth, but then you realise that perhaps the victory of today is only just dawning on him, maybe he’s the type to grapple with disbelief a little before truly feeling the ebullience of the night.
“You’re Rodrygo’s sister, right?” he asks suddenly, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Y/N?”
You nod, surprised that he knows your name. You’re never around enough to have been formally introduced to any of your brother’s teammates, and you doubt he’s the type to blabber on about you to any of them, but perhaps you’re wrong.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Your voice comes out a little breathlessly, “and you must be Arda, congratulations on tonight!”
He grins, his eyes lighting up. “Thanks. Yeah that’s me?” He scratches the back of his neck, and you seem a little thrown off again, maybe he’s still struggling with the language barriers, so you brush off his words.
He looks around, as if searching for someone, then back at you. “Waiting for Rodrygo?”
You nod again, glancing toward the door where players are still coming out. “Yeah, I came to congratulate him on the win, i can’t find him anywhere,” You gesture around, “have you seen him?”
Arda chuckles. “He’s probably around somewhere with the rest of the team, dancing with Vini maybe?”
You laugh at that, knowing exactly what he means. “That sounds just like him.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, and you notice that Arda seems a bit unsure, like he’s debating whether to say something more. He finally speaks, his voice softer. “You don’t come to a lot of our matches, right? I don’t see you with the rest of Rodrygo’s family”
“Yeah,” you reply, feeling a little flustered under his gaze. “I try to come whenever I can though, I love watching you guys play. You have such a good team.”
He looks genuinely pleased at your words, and his smile grows. “Thanks. It’s always nice to see you around”
His words make you pause, maybe you misheard him, nonetheless you find your cheeks growing hot. Before you can respond, Rodrygo finally emerges from the locker room, his face breaking into a wide grin when he sees you. “Y/N!” he calls out, jogging over and pulling you into a quick, sweaty hug. “Did you see that goal? Pretty good, right?”
You laugh, pushing him back playfully. “Amazing, as always. But you’re going to stink up my clothes if you keep hugging me like this.”
He grins, then notices Arda standing beside you, watching the exchange with an amused smile. “Oh, hey, Arda! Didn’t expect to see you out here. Thanks for helping set up that goal tonight, by the way.”
Arda nods. “No problem, man. Great finish.”
You’re still standing there, feeling a little out of place but also strangely comfortable. There’s something about Arda that’s easy and natural, like you’ve known him longer than just the few minutes you’ve been talking.
Rodrygo, always the social one, looks between you and Arda, raising an eyebrow. “You two met already?”
You smile. “Sort of. We bumped into each other.”
Rodrygo laughs, clapping Arda on the back. “Well, Arda’s a good guy, Y/N. One of the best. If I had to trust someone to look after you around here, he’d be the guy.”
Arda blushes a little at that, and you feel your cheeks grow warm too, again, but you quickly cover it with a smile. “I’m sure he is.” Something about both of their behaviours is a little odd, like they’re in on a secret that you’re not aware of.
There’s another pause, and for a moment, you think about saying goodbye, but Arda speaks up first. “Hey, if you’re not rushing off, would you like to grab a coffee or something? There’s a great café just around the corner. I mean… if Rodrygo doesn’t mind,” he adds quickly, shooting your brother a glance.
Rodrygo looks between the two of you, a grin spreading on his face. His eyes glint mischievously at you and the look he and Arda share makes you feel that they’ve talked about you before. “Oh, I don’t mind at all. Go ahead, have fun. I’m going to catch up with a few guys from the team.”
You feel a flutter in your stomach—unexpected but not unwelcome. “Sure,” you reply, looking at Arda with a smile. “Coffee sounds nice.”
He smiles back, his eyes bright, and offers his arm. “Great. Let’s go.”
As you walk toward the café, the stadium lights gradually fading behind you, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest. The streets are alive with people celebrating the win, and you can’t help but feel that you’re part of something special tonight.
Arda seems a little more relaxed now, a bit more confident as he leads the way. “So, do you live here in Madrid, or are you just visiting?” he asks, genuinely interested.
“I’m just visiting,” you reply. “I come whenever I can to see Rodrygo. I live in Lisbon right now, but I travel a lot for work.”
“What do you do?” he asks, holding the café door open for you.
“I’m an art curator,” you say, smiling as you step inside. “I organize exhibitions, work with galleries… that sort of thing.”
He looks impressed. “That’s really cool. So you must love creativity—just in a different field than Rodrygo and me.”
You chuckle a little. “Exactly. I think maybe that’s why I enjoy watching you guys play so much.” Your eyes gleam a little as you subconsciously lean closer to him, “There’s an artistry to it, a rhythm and creativity that’s kind of like painting or, kind of like- you know curating an exhibition?”
His eyes light up at your words, and he too, leans closer, as it to hear you better, even though you aren’t whispering. “I’ve never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. I guess we’re all trying to create something beautiful, in our own way.”
You both order your coffees, and as you sit down by the window, you find that the conversation flows effortlessly. He tells you about his journey from Turkey, the challenges of adapting to another language, atmosphere and culture entirely, the excitement of playing at such a high level, his dreams for the future. He even voices out his disappointment that playing in a club like real madrid with so many great players, while it has helped him, often creates doubt in himself. Especially when he’s not the one that’s brought out on the field. Your heart cracks a little at his words, and you can’t help but empathize with him, the fact that there are people who give up so much of their life, childhood and leave behind their families for this sport, it’s a double edged sword. Nonetheless, Arda makes his appreciation transparent at your obvious concern.
You find yourself captivated by his stories, by the passion in his voice and the way his eyes light up when he talks about the game.
And you talk about your work, your love for art, the joy of discovering new talent and bringing it to the world. He listens attentively, asking questions that make you feel like he really cares, like he genuinely wants to know you.
By the time you finish your coffee, it feels like hours have passed, yet it’s only been a short while. You realize you don’t want the evening to end, and judging by the way he keeps looking at you, neither does he.
As you leave the café, walking back toward the stadium, Arda turns to you with a hopeful smile. “This was… really nice. I’m glad we ran into each other.”
You smile back, your heart fluttering in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. “Me too, Arda.”
And as you say goodbye, you know that this is just the beginning of something unexpected, something wonderful—something you never saw coming but are more than ready to explore.
fin.
Help im thinking about Titus successfully saving his son again.
Good, keep thinking about it >:3c
💚❤️ Him, just him 💙🩵
Howdy Pillar belongs 2 Partycoffin!
i think about this a lot
“it’s my first smooth operation for ferrari” SO HAPPY FOR HIM
Ｓｅｃｒｅｔ Ｌａｄｙ
⇝ 𝘎𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘹 𝘍!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
Temari was nervous. She’s been in the kitchen with her brothers, preparing to meet Gaara’s girlfriend. Lord, his girlfriend. Her youngest brother, her Kazakage, has had someone for years. Years, and he brings her home now. Which he might be late to pick up if he doesn’t leave.
“Gaara, get out of my kitchen right now!”
Kankuro flinches but continues to bring the dishes out onto the table. Gaara looks at her with confused eyes, before looking at a clock. Sand rushes around him, grabbing the bouquet on the counter before he leaves in a flurry. As she sets the table for four, Temari can’t help but think of when she learned about his girlfriend. All because they had been a little bold. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking about seeing the hickeys on her brother’s neck, another bundle of flowers in his hands yesterday.
“Gaara.”
A bit of prying later, she’s sitting on the couch, her head in her hands.
“How long have you been dating her again?”
“…About two years.”
“Two years?”
“Yes.”
She looks up at him, and his face shows a bit of his fear. Good, because she feels slightly homicidal, but the shock overpowers that feeling for now.
“And never once, not once, did you think you should bring her to meet your family?”
Gaara looks to Kankuro, but his older brother takes one glance in Temari’s direction before he raises his hands in a surrendering gesture.
“I’ll bring her tomorrow.”
So, here Temari was. Ready to see if this person was a good fit for her brother. A knock on the door, and she moves with Kankuro to open it.The first thought she has is you’re pretty. The second is that her brother looks at her as if she’s the best thing in the world.
Well then.
Temari hugs you and accepts the gift you offer before ushering everyone to the table. Gaara and you sit towards her and Kankuro. She can’t miss the way you look at Gaara either. Pure love and happiness. The conversation starts, bringing up how you guys met, how you had to ask Gaara out because he just wouldn’t, and so much more.
She noticed that Gaara smiled more this evening than he had this entire month.
As the night progresses, Temari grows more satisfied. You’re polite, and make up for all of Gaara’s flaws while he makes up for your’s. You complement each other perfectly. One glance in Kankuro’s direction, and he agrees.
Soon, it’s time for you to leave. You hug Temari and shake Kankuro’s hand, and then Gaara whisks you away.
“I like her.”
Kankuro says as they move the dishes out of the way.
“I agree. They’re good for each other.”
And when Gaara walks through the door again, slight blush adorning his face and head up in the clouds, Temari can’t help but smile even as she smacks his head.
“Idiotic imbecile.”
But she ruffles his hair as Kankuro wraps a arm around Gaara.
“At least, she makes you happy, right?” She asks as she lightly touches his tattoo.
Gaara tangle his fingers with hers and presses them against the tattoo.
“Yes.”
“Good.” then she smirks in his direction with Kanuro as they move their youngest to the couch, “Now let us give you some tips.”
The mortification on his face was worth it.
⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥?
𝘔𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
He won’t lie, he likes you clingy. However, you hadn’t been spending much time with him. Megumi knew that you would be free today. So a scary movie it was. He needed an excuse.
He had called you over and had the movie playing. Your hands were gripping his, knuckles white, and you had them pulled in front of your face. He smiled a little when he realized you were still peeking through them.
“You scared?”
He was being a little mean. He knows you know, as if the quick glare you sent him didn’t speak volumes. Freeing his hands from your death grip, he throws one arm around you. Within a second, your hands were gripping his again, and he couldn’t help but laugh right against your ear, breathy and deep.
When he feels you shiver against him, Megumi has a feeling that the jump-scare on the screen wasn’t the reason.
A few moments pass, and his head is propped up against the wall. During the dialogue scene, you glance over at him.
“Aren’t you scared?”
His eyes slid over to meet your’s. “Hm?”
You huff a little in frustration at his face. “You have no expression on your face. I’m feeling a little silly over here.”
Megumi pulls you closer to him, and your dogs bound onto the bed. Scratching them behind their ears, you continue, “They have more feeling on their face than you.”
Megumi listens quietly, snuggling his face against your neck. The movie continues, and during the next jump-scare, he kisses your neck from behind, effectively distracting you.
Your pulse thunders right against his lips as he feels you tighten your hands around his. As the movie ends, he rubs your shoulders, massaging the tension and fear away slowly.
Once you’ve relaxed against him, he kisses your hair, your neck, your shoulders. He doesn’t notice you and the dogs getting ready to pounce him.
“Rah!” You turn in his arms, throwing your weight against him as the dogs tackle him from the sides. He laughs, falling, as all three of you pepper his face with kisses.
After calming down, he opens his eyes and looks at you. Your hands are holding his face, and he knows there’s a flush in his cheeks as your thumbs graze it.
“There we go. Much better.”
Pulling you to lay down on him, he sighs. With you hugging him tightly, he knows you’re gonna spend the night because you’re scared. You’re clingy.
⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯
Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Negan 36/??
crush — trailer park!daryl
a/n: hi guys!! so sorry it’s been a little while since i last posted something for you all to read, but i finally had a bit of time and i’ve got this for you! thank you nonnie for requesting and i hope you enjoy!!!
if you did enjoy this, please don’t forget to give me a like, reblog, and/or comment ! i always appreciate the support.
summary: making out with daryl dixon in the middle of a thunderstorm 🫶🏻
requested: anon requested — hello!!! I absolutely love you tp!daryl dixon works and I was thinking of a scenario where reader and Daryl make out in a stolen car or something, I always think about something like this when I listen to Crush by Ethel Cain for example and I would love to see how you could interpret it in your writing !!
warnings: making out
word count: 1,041
resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight
➵ masterlist
➵ ask box (currently closed for requests)
the wind howled outside as the storm rolled in. lightning lit up the sky in quick flashes, followed by cracks of thunder so loud they made your heart race. you could barely hear the rain over the pounding of your pulse as it drummed against the roof of the old abandoned car where you and daryl were hiding.
the seat was small and uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. when the first heavy drops started to fall, you and daryl had slipped out of the trailer park, sneaking into the junkyard where the beat-up car sat abandoned. now, the windows were fogged, the air thick with humidity and the charged energy of the storm.
daryl’s lips were on yours—rough, but somehow gentle in that way only he could manage. his hands were everywhere—one steadying himself on your waist, the other ghosting over your back, tugging at your shirt like he couldn’t get close enough. his breath was hot against your neck as he pulled back for a moment, eyes dark with hunger.
“you sure about this?” his voice was low, but there was a tenderness hidden under the roughness.
the rain poured harder, drowning out everything but the sound of your breathing. you reached up, fingers brushing through his damp hair before pulling him back to you, closing the gap again. his lips crashed into yours, mirroring the storm outside—wild, consuming, reckless.
“i’m sure,” you murmured against his lips, your hands gripping the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer. the warmth of his body sent a shiver down your spine, a sharp contrast to the chill creeping through the cracks of the old car.
daryl let out a low growl, his hand sliding up your thigh, making you gasp. the kiss deepened, more urgent now, as if the storm outside only fueled the intensity. each roll of thunder seemed to echo the thudding of your heart, each flash of lightning casting his face in stark, beautiful light.
his calloused fingers tangled in your hair as he kissed you like it was the last time he ever would, like he was memorizing how you felt in his arms. every touch, every brush of his lips, felt electric.
outside, the wind rattled the car, cocooning the two of you in your own little world. maybe you were. here, in this stolen car with daryl, nothing else mattered—not the storm, not the trailer park, not whatever trouble tomorrow would bring. it was just you, him, and the raw connection neither of you could resist.
his hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned back to catch his breath. you were both panting, your chests heaving, but you couldn’t help smiling at him. the storm raged on, but in that moment, you felt safe in daryl’s arms.
“guess the storm ain’t the only wild thing tonight,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
you laughed at his dumb little joke, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “no, it’s not.” you shook your head, admiring how beautiful he looked in the dark, the shadows playing across his features, making them sharper, more defined.
his smirk widened, and his breath ghosted over your skin as he leaned in for another kiss. his hand slid down your side, fingers grazing the hem of your shirt, teasing it upward, but there was no rush now. the storm might’ve been wild, but daryl’s touch was deliberate, sure.
“yer somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly. his fingers traced patterns along your waist, sending jolts of electricity through you, more potent than the lightning flashing outside.
you couldn’t help but smile as you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble on his cheeks. “only with you, dixon,” you teased, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. he groaned softly, pulling you closer, his hands roaming freely.
the air in the car was thick, almost stifling, but it only added to the heat between you. you could feel every inch of him, the hard muscle of his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, the way his hands gripped your hips, grounding you even as your head spun.
his lips pressed against your neck, the scrape of his stubble making you gasp. rough around the edges, but tender when it mattered, he knew how to make you feel like the only person in the world.
you tugged gently at his hair, and he responded with a growl, his grip on your waist tightening as he nipped at the sensitive skin below your ear. “yer gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he muttered against your skin, but his voice held a smile, like he wouldn’t have it any other way.
the car creaked as you shifted, the weight of the moment heavy between you. the storm outside seemed to fuel something untamed within you both, the air charged with raw, unspoken intensity.
“daryl…” you whispered, the sound barely audible over the wind, but he heard it. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything stilled. his rough hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he studied you, like he was committing every detail to memory.
“yeah?” he asked softly, the tension between you crackling like static before a lightning strike.
“i think i—” you swallowed, and he squeezed your thigh gently, urging you to continue. “i think i kinda like you,” you confessed, your voice soft but certain. this was more than just a storm, more than a stolen moment. it was him—the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe and wild all at once.
daryl let out a quiet laugh, his lips curving into a rare, soft smile. “’bout time you figured that out,” he teased, leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time. less frantic, but no less intense. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he didn’t want the moment to end.
maybe it didn’t have to. in this old, stolen car with the storm raging around you, maybe you could have this—something real, something wild, something that was just yours and daryl’s.
Hello my faggots in Christ. Wonderful to see you all today.
Just a friendly reminder than I need John Price up my ass.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Puss in Boots: The Last Wish | Puss’s Panic Attack
ULTRAKILL GRRR 🗡🗡
I love this creature. I died to him several times. He spins like a beyblade
Tw: scopophobia
Tell me, Father, what you see when you look in the mirror
The more I watch the more interesting it gets
It being Tyler Galpin that is.
He said he liked killing in the police station scene. He’s a bad person blah, blah, blah. This is me finally becoming a full blown Tyler apologist and if you don’t like it keep scrolling. Up until now I’ve been open to criticism of Tyler about that scene, but now I have a whole new perspective. I truly don’t believe that was him AT ALL.
By now we all know that Thornhill shackled Tyler up in a cave, and drugged him to unlock his Hyde so he’d become loyal to her. But something stood out to me while rewatching episode seven. It’s the scene where Wednesday is reading Faulkner’s diary that reads, “Born of mutation, the Hyde lays dormant until unleashed by a traumatic event or unlocked by chemical inducement or hypnosis. This act causes the Hyde to form an immediate bond with it’s liberator who the creature now sees as it’s master. It becomes the willing instrument of whatever nefarious agenda this new master might purpose.” So, not only is Tyler forced to do Thornhill’s bidding, he’s conditioned to like it. If that is even Tyler in the first place. Maybe it’s the Hyde in Tyler form. That would make what he said at the station make so much more sense. Him telling Wednesday he enjoyed everything, but then the way his eyes watered after. I’ve come around to the idea that Tyler wasn’t in complete control in that moment. I now believe that there’s a distinction between the real Tyler, his Hyde-self in Tyler form, and the actual physical monster.
Also, Tyler being a boring character is complete bs. If you don’t like him that’s fine, but don’t lie and tell me he’s bland.