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revetahwsstuff · 5 months

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Johnny Cage

With a (bottom) Male S/O who is basically similar to Nicole Watterson but reversed. Pt.2

(Daycare!)

M/N watched as his 3 children kept chanting that weird name, now he wasn’t familiar with anyone with that kind of name unless they were talking about Kakashi Hatake which the name “Ninja mime” fits him.

To M/N, he looks like any old-rich- white-dude so why are his kids are so fond of him suddenly? “Woah there little children! Don’t make a scene out of me.” Johnny Cage said with a snarky grin making M/N stoic expression turn firm a little.

“Come on kids, let’s not disturb the gentlemen.” M/N voice had a bit of sweetness mix with irritation as he began to push the cart full of food but it seems like his children didn’t want to leave.

“Aww, but dad. Look this may sound surprising to you but could we at least hang in the store for a couple of hours?” C/N one said, “This is like the only one time we actually might be grateful towards you if you do.” C/N three said

“Couple of hours? No, we have to get home early, cook dinner, go to sleep and take you kids to school.” M/N rebuttal and his three children pouted before looking up at Johnny with adorable-dejected-looking-faces.

“Looks like we can’t know each other yet Ninja-Mime.” C/N two with sadness. Johnny looked down with a half-smile. Looking up at their father who was beginning to walk away. Johnny crouched at their height “How about I..go to your house?”

“You can do that?!” C/N one question with excitement and Johnny just gave them a playful wink.

“Children!!” M/N yelled, the 3 kids jumped at their fathers voice and scurried away from Johnny to their father who was already 6 feet away from them from the aisle.

———————————————————————

Around 5, at home. Biyu was out of the house again to work dead-paying job meaning the children own the house now to do whatever they want.

“He should be here any minute now.”

“You sure? Someone like him has way too much on his hands” C/N two replied to C/N one. The two youngsters head downstairs and stood in front of the door, C/N one was tapping their shoes on the wooden floor impatiently before the doorbell was heard. The children immediately yanked the door open and had nervous smiles on their faces with Johnny cage looking down at them with wide eyes when seeing their nervous expression.

“You kids okay? I know I’m a celebrity and all but- you guys don’t seem like-“

“Oh no! We do want you here! Come! Come in.” C/N two nudged their small hand out for Johnny to come inside. The two looked up with creepy smiles but they were just shy and nervous since a big star came inside their little home. Johnny entered their small house, it was homey but very clustered as their were toys on the floor, and colored pencils laying around with papers drawn. A fish tank sitting on a dresser and kitchen just a few steps away.

The children began to pick up and tidy the living room up a little for their special guest and they did it pretty fast, C/N puts a towel where they accidentally spilled orange juice on the cushion and led Johnny where to sit which he oblige. “So this is where you guys sleep, not particularly my taste but for a normal family such as you guys.” Johnny looked around before he heard something moving and he adverted his eyes to see the three kids of M/N just staring at them. “Do you want anything sir? We got water, Thai tea or orange juice?”C/N one question with a nervous smile

“No need for the hospitality kids, just call me Johnny.” He interjected, “ok! Johnny?! How was your day?! What did you ate?!” M/N children energy were high! Johnny could understand where M/N stoic personality came from (If M/N came back and spot Johnny with his children it would drop his energy already.)

“I haven’t really ate anything today, but I did snuck out during a meeting for a movie just to see you kids.” Johnny replied, “awh, we were that important even we just met..well I know you..but you don’t know me-“ C/N one continued before C/N two smack them on the head for their sibling to not reveal the stalkings they did on Johnny’ daily life.

“So kids..do you guys have any games to play?” Johnny cage asked as he leaned back in the small couch, his legs had to be out stretched on the floor since he was tall.

“We can play (Your favorite game) on the PS5!” C/N one suggests and C/N two opens a cabinet under the TV to reveal the many games they had before picking the game C/N said they could play. The kids brought out their controllers and tossed one to Johnny who caught it in ease. The three began to play the game on the TV, making loud noises in the process making the toddler in the house awake

“CAN YOU GUYS BE QUIET?!” C/N three shouts from the nursery room, the older kids and Johnny quickly shut their mouth but later snickered in response. The three continued to play the PS5 until the clock strikes at 7pm. The sounds of keys rattling against the door heard before opening-

“What are you kids doing?!”

#male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader insert #gay #mxm #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage

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harcove · 9 months

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Stargazer - B.H.

a/n not a request, because... idk man, i have so many things im in the middle of writing for billy rn, and i had this one in my noggin for a while because i swear i remember somewhere dacre said smthing about it would be cool to see another side of billy- like with a girl just... in a field- cuties. or maybe... i made that up in my head besties idk, but here u go

length: 2.6k

pairing: billy x reader

warnings: no; mention maybe of billy's father and to trauma/abuse. maybe badly written billy im not too confident with this one lmao

summary: billy and you sneak into the hawkins high school football field and look at the stars

The air outside was considerably cooler than it had been during the day, and even then it had already been rather nippy out. The autumn air crisp as the months crawled slowly towards December, towards winter. Maybe a bit chilly for you to be laying in an open field in the middle of the night, but Billy Hargrove didn't seem to care; especially not when he was the one who snuck the two of you into Hawkins High schools football field.

You weren't even sure you had a football team. It was used for soccer and running track. It would be better to refer to it as a soccer field.

"Goddamn it's fucking cold," Billy grumbles, as he jumps down the fence, watching as you take the easier route (for you at least); the small hole that the school had yet to repair in the fencing in a bottom corner; too small for Billy to fit through, but just big enough you could wriggle your way through, "mind reminding me why I agreed to this bullshit?"

"I dunno," the smile is evident in your voice as you finally end up on the right side of the fence, picking yourself up off the dirt ground as Billy looks down at you, hands in his pockets. You use his bent arm to pull yourself up and you can feel the way he stiffens his body to compensate for the weight of your pulling, so neither of you fall, "But it's really not that bad."

"Not that bad?" his brows raise almost comically, and he blinks; his bright blue eyes looking at you like you're insane, "Not that fuckin' bad, huh?"

He breathes out, a bit harsher on purpose, and a plume of air appears in front of the two of you. It's just cold enough that your breath can be seen in front of you, like tiny little clouds of mist; a constant and subtle reminder that the seasons were close to changing once more, Autumn would soon blend into Winter.

Also, a constant reminder for Billy that he was no longer in California.

The sudden thought put a damper on his mood and it was visible in his body language and facial expressions. Billy Hargrove was so much more of an open-book than he realized sometimes. When it came to emotions like anger, or hatred, they showed themselves like black ink on a white page; strikingly. They were two emotions that coincided with one another; and they were the emotions he felt most often and most deeply. Being sad was weak (his father really beat that into him, physically and metaphorically) and being happy? He wasn't sure he could feel happy anymore. Too much anger. Too much hatred.

But then, when he looks at you, everything felt less harsh- his chest doesn't feel as heavy, his body isn't as on fire from a rage deep within; and there is something there. Something that maybe could be happiness. If he let it build, if he worked on it. If he just let it happen.

Easier said than done.

You can feel the way Billy slips away from the moment, noticing the way the dirty blonde sunk deeper into his own head, his face losing any of it's previous sarcasm and maybe even slight amusement, you clear your throat. Better than touching him, because you can't really be sure where his thoughts are in these moments exactly, and you'd seen more than enough to know what his father is like.

"Yeah, not that bad," you repeat, a sly smirk graces your lips as you walk backwards from him, taking big steps to reach the wide open field, your eyes adjusted to the darkness at this point, "you're just being a baby."

Mission successful. Even at the distance you've created between the two of you, you can see the way his face morphs. It's not anger, not like some might think it would be at being called a name; it's light-hearted when you say it, and only you can say it. He'll get back at you. He always does. Sometimes sooner rather than later; and now it's sooner.

The sound that comes from his lips isn't exactly a laugh, it's more of a scoff; a laugh of disbelief as he watches you get further away. His tongue juts out, wetting his lips, a slight shake of his head; eyes zoning in on you perfectly.

"Baby?" he sounds defiant, mock-angry. You just shrug your shoulders, shouting back at him, 'yeah' before waving your arms in the air, "You're fuckin' asking for it."

Billy is fast. He would be, considering how he likes to work out and stay fit; his place on the basketball team for Hawkin's high school shines through in moments like this where he starts running towards you; in turn you turn to face forward, starting to run yourself towards the centre of the field. It's a futile effort to run from Billy Hargrove. He's always going to catch you. He's fast. And he doesn't let up.

You squeal when he suddenly grabs you, slamming his body into your own with his arms around your middle, picking you up with easy and throwing himself onto the ground with you to boot. The laughter bubbles up in your throat as you try to catch your breath, winded and filled with adrenaline. You can hear it before you see it; the laugh from him, the smile in his laugh. It's not a laugh like yours, one that is full-bodied and hard to catch your breath too- it's more like a burst of laughter that he brings back down to control. But it's still a laugh.

You've heard it before. But never like this. He's laughed when he's been angry, he's laughed but it's been fake and calculated. But now he laughs and it isn't thought out beforehand. It isn't in disbelief or anger.

His strength and heavy-handedness is only amplified when he tosses you off him from where he took the brunt of his purposeful fall to the ground, quickly flipping you over without much time for you to think about what's happening. It's only when he's hovering over you with a hand digging into your hip- not enough to hurt you, but enough to know damn well it's there.

"Now," he breathes out, his warm breath a stark contrast from the crisp autumn night, "What was it you called me...?"

Mischief swims in your eyes as you stare directly into the prettiest blue you think you've ever seen. Everything about Billy is pretty. He is so beautiful, in every way, but he hates when you say that. He prefers words like hot, or sexy. But he can't hide his red tipped ears when you say he's beautiful or pretty.

He deserves to know he's not just some object for women to oggle at. He's a beautiful human being. He's Billy.

"Ba...by," you huff out, still trying to catch your breathe. The rise and fall of you chest makes contact with Billy's, showing just how close he is to you right now.

His lips crash onto yours. Hungry. Heavy. Angry? No... Needy. But also, vengeful. If you weren't already winded, you are definitely winded now as all thoughts escape you; the need to breathe becoming a secondary thought. Why breathe when you have him? He makes you feel alive. He makes all the bad things in Hawkins just... Stop. Like the stars in the sky, he may disappear, he might go away for some time but he's still always there. He's...

He bits into your lip.

It elicits a muffled cry from you as you push against his chest, his mouth leaving yours.

And he has the audacity to look at you, mock-confusion on his face, breathing much more normal paced compared to your own. It makes you wanna pinch him. But you don't, instead you settle on glaring at him in the dark.

"Someone's being a baby," he throws it back at you with ease, rolling off you when you push him off. To be fair, you didn't have the strength to push him off, he's just giving you one by rolling off of you anyways. A thump when he hits the grass beside you.

Pouting is useless since he can't even see it now that he's looking at the sky, but you do it anyway. It's the principle of the thing you suppose.

It's quiet. The only sound being a cricket here or there, and the sound of your breathing mixed with his own. Your finally able to regulate your breathing and bring it back to normal. You wish you had a drink, but that's not a big deal for now. The cool air entering your lungs feels good, a balm to the burn from your previous silliness.

"At least your warm now, right?" You offer up the words after a few more beats of silence.

He snorts.

"There's better ways to get warm and stay warm."

You know what he's implying and you hit his shoulder softly with your fingers.

"No. Not in public."

He doesn't respond to that. He really would do anything with you right there, but contrary to what others seemed to believe, he was rather respectful of your boundaries when it came to these things. That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease you.

"Can't believe I'm with a goddamn prude. Its the middle of the damn night."

Like that.

"It's not being a prude!" You focus your attention on the sky, "now just... Look."

He lets out a heavy breath.

The reason you wanted to come out here in the first place. The night sky, filled with stars.

Hawkins wasn't a big city or more populated place like California, it was a small town. Light pollution wasn't really a thing here as it would be in big cities. You took it for granted till you visited your aunt and uncle one year in New York, where the light pollution was rampant. Seeing a star there was nigh impossible.

But Hawkins? The sky was littered with so many little stars, stars you could see perfectly. You could make out some and the vast dark that went on forever. It made you feel oddly melancholic. Sometimes you wished you could reach up, touch them, and join them up there. So small in the grand scheme of things. A reminder of just how large the universe was. Just how... Insignificant you were in the grand scheme of things.

And that was okay. Sometime, you need to be reminded that you're just one person in a world of billions, you're small, and not everything needs to be on your shoulders.

You wanted Billy to feel that. Feel the weight of the world drift away as the stars reminded you, you're only human. Just a small, little human.

"That's the big dipper," you reach your arm up to point at the cluster of stars forming the measuring cup like shape in the sky, "I only know it because it was the only one I could find when I was a kid."

"Still the only one you can find?"

"Uh, no," you matter-of-factly say, moving to point towards another cluster, "there's the little dipper."

"Damn," he mocks, "the little one too?"

You giggle, wiggling closer to Billy's side, seeking his warmth and just his presence in general.

"Still don't get why we couldn't do this when it's warmer. I'm not giving you my damn jacket, you still haven't given me back the other fucking one."

That's true. But he doesn't complain too much. You always bring it back to him, and it somehow always ends up back with you anyways.

"Because, you can see the stars better when it's colder."

"Bullshit," you see his breath when he speaks, "That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard."

"No its not!" You don't actually know that. You just said it, because you've always found you see the stars the best when it's colder. Maybe it's because you usually look up at the sky most during this time of year, when the sky darkens so much quicker than in the summer.

Once more, the conversation lulls to a stop, it's a easy silence that settles between you, one that feels comfortable and safe. Something about being with Billy feels safe, it always does. You can only hope that it's the same for him; that being with you is a safe place for him. Or someday, it will be.

He deserves at least one person, one place, in his life that's safe.

You wriggle close enough to the man that you can rest your head on his shoulder and you do so with ease, but you can feel his shoulder stiffen for a moment before it relaxes. It's just you. He's fine with you.

Much to your pleasure he moves the arm of the shoulder you placed your head on out from beneath you, snaking it around your shoulder to force you closer to him with a single tug. It brings you close enough to Billy that your practically on top of him. When you settle yourself comfortably, one leg hiked up across his torso, with your body pressed against his side and your head close to his heart- his hand leaves your shoulder and travels to your waist. He squeezes the flesh on your hip, causing you to jump slightly.

You know he enjoys how you react.

And you like how it feels.

Laying there, beside him, felt right. It felt like this was where you were meant to be. The cold air didn't matter, the hard grass beneath you didn't change anything. It felt so cliché, to lay under the stars beside a handsome boy- the quote en quote bad boy, as if there was nothing else in the world but the two of you.

You really felt you could stay there forever. Be with him forever.

"You fallin' asleep?" When he speaks you feel the vibrations from his chest, "you fall asleep, your on your damn own."

He doesn't mean that. You know that, he knows that. You breathe in his cologne, savouring it before releasing a long breathe.

"I'm not... I'm just," you pause, voice quiet, strikingly different to how it had been before when you were running from him as a joke. If it wasn't so quiet already, your voice may have been carried away with the wind, "Happy."

You aren't surprised when at first, Billy has nothing to say to that.

Billy is turning this over in his head. Happy. You were... Happy. Happy to be there with him, happy to lay on a dirt and grass in the middle of the night with him. Happy. You were happy.

He didn't think he could make anyone happy. That anyone could be happy with him. It was scary. It scared him; how long could he keep that going? How long till something happened, till he did something and ruined everything. Before he ruined your happiness; ruined you. Was it selfish for him to keep you with him, even knowing that he could ruin everything? Was it unfair to want to have you despite his own fears and issues... Maybe, but Billy Hargrove did not care.

He'd be as selfish as he damn pleased.

"A prude, and a goddamn crackpot. At least you're easy to please."

You swear you can hear a soft edge in his voice as he speaks, even if it's hard to catch, like it's barely there. But you can hear it. You pull yourself closer to him, if it's even possible to do at this point.

Yeah, you think, you could stay there forever with him. And he thinks, maybe he could too.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #mine #antis dni #amy writes #my writing #hhhhh i struggled with billy this time for some reason im sorry yall

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dei2dei · 11 months

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Look at all the stuff in that mansion. It's full, in that carefully-organized-by-a-designer way, and it's fantastic--and it's also utterly, horribly terrifying and makes me sad on behalf of MK1 Johnny Cage, what little I can see. Because as much money has been splashed around, as glorious and gorgeous as that Cage’s Mansion stage is… that's a showpiece, not a home.

Johnny has Sento, a true Japanese katana with a history--and it's famous enough, presumably, he'd know its name. It's on display in a really nice setup with all its elements neatly aligned and included so you can see every bit of it.

He has a very fancy glass chandelier, and what looks like a bust of Nefertiti. Open windows and he keeps the temp at 72F. Lots of white furniture, the random vases full of sticks (aromatherapy diffusers?), a variety of bar carts. Abstract art and sculpture, and what may be a bra abandoned by the one chair and ottoman by the fireplace. One chair and ottoman. Not two, where you'd expect to cuddle up with family if you had one, or a partner. Just one.

This place can seat dozens. There are at least four discrete seating areas (maybe five?) on the bottom floor, plus the infinity pool, and an outdoor porch/patio. Then there's the second floor and all its seating that we can glimpse. It’s made for filling with people, and not in a lived-in dinner parties and kids running around kind of way. This is a place you fill with people for parties. It's a place you expect to need dozens of chairs and bottles and bottles of liquor for your get-together. But there's very little Johnny on display.

It's all about external appearances- the bust of Nefertiti is a well-known piece of art, and historically she was considered an icon of feminine beauty. He's got one of the world's most beautiful women to look at, a fancy Japanese katana, and yet all of it smacks to me of a man who is desperate to find pleasure, to chase the high in acquisitions and throwing big parties and having lots of people, to drown and forget the emptiness inside.

We don't see pictures of people here. No photos of family, of a girlfriend, or even of himself (no posters or award photos on the wall). Johnny is a man on his own, and anyone who comes to his place is an ephemeral guest, leaving very little of themselves behind. What there is of him is hidden away from public view, where perhaps only a few guests would get to see--and if we're stripping down to bras in the main space and then heading to skinny dipping in the pool, it'll be a wonder if they make it to a bedroom. There's no dining room here, or kitchen (that we see)--all those private areas are hidden. All public-facing here, all carefully cultivated and maintained for appearances.

I think this new Johnny, the little bit we've seen, is hungry for something. He wants something and he doesn't know what it is. Acting lets him chase that; maybe he'll find what he's missing in a role, in a mindset, in a co-star. Maybe he's tried to buy things and see if one of them will fill the hole in him, but nothing takes. Maybe if he surrounds himself with enough people, he'll meet The One (or two, if it's a poly situation). But right now... he's flying solo. This isn’t a place you raise a kid in, curl up with your significant other on a couch in front of the fire and laugh or watch TV (is there even one?).

It's an ostentatious display of wealth and a desire to be a party animal, to be the one people come to hang out with, the social butterfly that has alcohol and plenty of space. I think Tony Stark would absolutely be comfortable in a place like this (in fact, that's what my first thought was - MK/MCU mashup when?), but what we're missing is the equivalent to Tony's lab and bedroom. There's no passion here on display, nothing that makes this an individual, unique home that says "Johnny Cage" on it. He's presenting a face to the world, and hiding the rest away where he has to be a real person who eats and sleeps. There’s a scene in the MKX comics where Sonya is gearing up for an op in their kitchen, and the incongruity is great, Johnny stumbling out in fuzzy slippers and bathrobe and her checking her gun with the fruit bowl on the counter. That wouldn’t happen here; that’s too human, too vulnerable, for this Johnny.

Until - I hope - he meets The One, and realizes that he can stop chasing after external happiness because he’s got somebody who makes all those paintings and awards pale in comparison. Someone who's worth putting another chair next to the fireplace for, maybe making that pristine mansion a little messy for. Someone who's going to shake him down to his well-heeled shoes and upend his world. And if MK1 isn't going to give him someone, well. That's what fanfic is for.

#mortal kombat #headcanons #johnny cage #mk1 #character analysis #meta #i want it to be cageblade i really do #and that's what fanfic is for

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izukuwus · 10 months

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(they all have) so much meaning - Midoriya Izuku/Reader (18+)

Next (coming soon?) - M.list - Ao3

A/N: ok so despite the spiderweb thing I actually did most of the writing for this BEFORE I watched across the spiderverse and veered clear into my government-mandated spider-man phase. I kind of want the tattoo, though.

(why yes, I DO default to The Front Bottoms lyrics every time I can't think of a good title for a fic. it's bc I'm right.)

Summary: It's your third date with your long-standing no-longer-crush, and Izuku just found out that you had a tattoo. You let him take a long look.

Warnings: public sex, oral (reader receiving), afab reader, reader has a tattoo, exhibitionism

Notes: Reader has a tattoo and established quirk. Yes, they're a literal emotional vampire. I can only write so much without vampires getting involved.

Word Count: 3600+

Midoriya Izuku is a pretty boy with sharp teeth and a brilliant mind. He does not possess the mind for what one would call a normal conversation, really, but you knew that long before agreeing to the first date, let alone the second.

By the end of date three, you’re honestly proud of him. I mean, neither of you got through the date without stuttering, which is fucking ridiculous given how long you’ve known each other, but compared to the first date’s rocky start, you both did a fantastic job! You completed the date with minimal stuttering between the two of you, and thanks to your quirk, you’re confident in saying both of you feel a fond sadness as he drives you home. You could have taken the train—planned on it, actually—but he’d insisted, and who were you to not say yes, if only to bask in his presence a little longer?

“I didn’t know you had a car,” you confess. You’re sitting on your hands, self-conscious for a myriad of reasons, least of all because having sat on your hands has left you hyperaware of how much thigh is visible in this skirt. “Is it new?”

Stupid question. It’s obviously new, and nice, too. Admittedly, you don’t know shit about cars, but you do know enough to be able to tell when one is nice. It’s shiny, for one, with a sleek, vintage look and classic black paint, and you don’t have to be a genius to know that any car with a convertible top is probably not super cheap. The seats, too, are luxurious—a dark, soft leather that caresses your legs quite nicely.

The trouble with leather is, again, directly correlated with how much thigh is exposed by this skirt. Being July, the world is hot and sticky, which means miniskirts, which means issues around gross men, windy days, and leather fucking car seats.

“It is, actually!” He lets out a nervous laugh. It’s strange to see him driving, strange to see scarred hands confidently turning the wheel. Izuku had asked if you wanted the top down, since it was a hot day, and nice out, and—

You had agreed with a nervous bubble of laughter. The novelty of it was a good draw. You’d heard “top down” from pretty lips and agreed without a second thought.

The thing about Midoriya Izuku is that, for all the years you’ve been friends—since entering high school, really—you have danced around one another like this.

Nervous laughter, words flowing so easily that they slip right past your filter or otherwise don’t make it to your lips. Honestly, you don’t need him to tell you that he didn’t mean to ask you on the first date when he did—he had the same affliction, where things were said too easily and then followed by the cringe. Hindsight is always 20/20, which meant that the moment he'd asked to take you out to a movie and let the word "date" slip, he was immediately running damage control, and you'd let "I'd like a date, actually" slip before you really realized the ramifications of it. So you had gone home to panic and squeal, and he had gone home to panic and squeal, and now here you were, three dates down with the rising star of the hero world, a title you did not begrudge him.

“Since when did you need a car with that quirk?” you tease. Right now, it’s easy. The nerves of being with someone who wants you instead of just likes you don’t strangle your throat.

“Well, I could have just carried you home, but I think that might draw too much attention?” The thoughtful look in his eye slides away to something else as he casts a glance your way, maybe a bit lower, and his face burns red before you. “Not to mention, um, it might not be advisable, um…”

You got the message. You shift a little in your seat in hopes that it’ll give the fabric cause to slide down a little bit. “Y-yeah, uh, maybe not. I’ll have to wear shorts underneath next time!”

Another glance at your thigh before the light turns green. You try not to think about the little surge in his emotions pressing insistently at you. His cheeks seem impossibly redder, and he turns his eyes to the road, ever dedicated to safe driving practices. “I-if you want! You looked really nice tonight, though! I mean it!”

It’s mildly amusing, watching him flounder like this. If you had less shame, you might revel in seeing his face go full strawberry just to pay you a compliment, especially after having fought a few villains alongside him and having seen that version of Izuku in action. He’s borderline unrecognizable like this, making still-nervous conversation and trying not to stare at your legs as he drives you home.

The fluttery, nervous energy between you is, if nothing else, good fuel for your quirk, and you catch it in the air and stock it away until the pair of you reach your destination.

“Thanks again.” You flash him your best smile as he parks, and you’re unsurprised to see him move to open your car door. Such a gentleman. “For driving me home, I mean. I would have made it home fine, but…”

“It’s not a problem at all! I wanted to.” He opens your door, offers you a hand, and once again, you regret the skirt.

In your defense, the skirt had passed the date check. It covers your ass, covers your tattoo when standing, and was cute enough to justify wearing out of the house!

It does not, however, pass the car check, which is what you discover as a movement to unstick your thighs from the seat also has the hem riding up far enough to show off your tattoo. You know, the one you didn’t tell anyone you got. The one whose location you picked because (and I quote) “if anyone I’m not actively sleeping with sees it, we have bigger problems than their opinions on my tattoo”. That tattoo. That someone you are not actively sleeping with (not yet, anyway) just got an eyeful of. Most of, at least.

He’s practically babbling, avoiding eye contact as he apologizes and helps you out of the car. “I-I didn’t know you got a tattoo.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I did! I lost a bet with Mina and had to get something done, so I thought I’d go for something cute.” You nearly babble the words, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Cute” is not the word you had used to describe the design when you’d come up with it, and the bet you lost was really just a pretense so you had an excuse to get the tattoo anyway, but, you know. It’s the little things as far as word choice is concerned.

You rub the back of your neck. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, actually. And the artist did a great job with it!”

“I didn’t get to see it really well, but I’m sure they did a really good job!”

“I mean, I could show you,” you reply, and there it is. Once again, your words beat your brain to the punch.

“I’d like to, if you’re comfortable with it!”

And there’s his burst of nervous energy, which, to be fair, hasn’t gone down a bit since you met at the restaurant earlier this evening, only climbed. You’ve learned that when you feel that particular spike of energy arc off him, it’s him doing the exact “say things you mean but don’t mean to say” thing you do. Small comforts, you suppose.

“Sure,” you manage, and then you’re lifting the hem of your skirt to show him the tattoo in all its glory.

Its design is that of a garter wrapping around your thigh, delicate lace forming spider webs in the “band” of the tattoo. It’s pretty, it’s possibly a bite too sexy, and it’s perhaps a bit too far up your thigh to be showing off in any way anyone would consider modest. In the dark of your poorly-lit driveway, Izuku seems to find himself crouching and leaning in to be able to properly inspect your inked thigh, and you feel a little surge of something wave off of him.

It’s not until you let that particular energy feed you and compare it to your own feelings that you realize he’s turned on. Part of it might be the position—the fire racing through your veins at lifting your skirt up partway for a pretty face crouching in front of you is likely matched by being the pretty face crouching before your date’s lifted skirt. Just as quick as it came, it’s replaced by a hot flush of shame, an emotion you know well.

That one, you don’t need to guess the source of. Izuku’s spent countless hours talking to you about the intricacies of your quirk over the years, and by now he’s more than aware that you feel every little surge of emotional energy around you, having given his permission to you to feed off of whatever he puts out.

When he lingers staring just a bit too long, you slowly lower your skirt and manage a nervous laugh. “So what do you think?”

“It’s a really well-done tattoo! I like the design, it’s very, uh—hot. I mean! Pretty! It’s pretty! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, that was completely inappropriate and you probably don’t think of me that way and I swear I’m not the kind of guy who—“

“Izuku.” This time, there’s no nerves in your laughter. “Did you think I was platonically lifting my skirt for you?”

He freezes. You draw a blank from the air between you, and he stares, flush-faced and wide-eyed, at you. “Lift it all the way, then,” he breathes, and then comes the panic. “Oh my god. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’msosorry—“

You wish you could say that you had some cool, flirtatious response ready to go, some smooth line that would get you branded pick up artist extraordinaire, but you’re rendered entirely speechless. The thought that perhaps this is moving faster than normal relationships might flits past your brain as you grasp the sides of your skirt in two fists and lift it the rest of the way.

His frantic apologies die in his throat. For a moment, you think he dies, too—even his emotional signature is completely blank. He rests, half-crouched, green eyes cataloging the sight like he’s studying for a test. He sucks in an audible breath as he processes it and the heat of arousal floods back from him. You like to think it’s because of one detail you didn’t really expect to come up tonight:

Your tattoo matches your panties.

Izuku is surging attraction towards you in waves intense enough that you’re sure someone else must be able to feel them. There’s no one here to notice, though.

It is an eternity of him staring at your bare thighs, inked lace and real lace maybe two inches from touching, and then he is bringing calloused fingers up to hover just above the ink in your skin. “M-may I, uh—“

You try not to flinch when those same calloused fingers rest on plush flesh. He traces the lines of the tattoo almost reverently, eyes following his fingertips, occasionally flicking upwards just a bit, and you keep your eyes locked on his expression the entire time.

So focused on watching his face, you miss his fingers trailing inwards. You don’t miss them when they brush at the place your thighs kiss. Another little flinch, but this time he retreats to gauge your expression. “Is this okay?” he’s asking you. Your mind is tethered to the spot where his fingers rest on too-hot skin. “I-I don’t want to push too hard or assume anything, and—“

Your words are failing you, but you give a frantic nod. You’re not convinced you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, you’ve lost track of the feel of his emotions pressing against yours, and the only words coming to your mind at this point are: New kink. Score.

You think he thanks you as his fingers slide across your skin, but you can’t be too sure, because his fingers have left the tattoo to climb in agonizing slow motion up your thigh. They brush, rough and so, so gentle against the lace of your panties, and this time, you flinch properly, fabric slipping from your fingers to rest on his wrist.

The look Izuku gives you is uncharacteristic and nearly stern. “I want to see,” he says, gentle and sweet, as though he’s pleading with you to show him some innocent photo rather than to keep your skirt held up for his viewing pleasure.

Automatically, you’re lifting your skirt again, and he nods in appreciation. “If at any point you want me to stop, or slow down, or… any of that, tell me?”

“Mhm. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, and it’s so dangerously close to what you really want to hear that you have to suppress a shudder.

Again his fingers brush the lace covering your sex, and this time, you don’t drop the skirt. You hold it tight, even as Izuku’s fingers press into the space between your thighs, and you find yourself leaning back against his car for support. When his other hand rests on your opposite knee and pushes outwards just a touch, you let your legs part in turn.

You have the sense he hasn’t done this much. You know he hasn’t, actually—you have on good authority that he has precious little experience in the romance department, and, having been more or less in love with him for several years now, you aren’t faring much better. Maybe that’s why it’s so electric when he presses an experimental line on the outside of your panties. Maybe that’s why the shame burns so hot when his fingertip comes away damp.

His voice comes out a whisper. He’s staring up at your face in awe. “Are you…”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “This is, like… insanely hot. You’re insanely hot.”

“Good,” he breathes, and then he’s slipping his hand past the band of your panties and touching you directly.

You jump a little at the contact, biting your lip to keep from gasping out. One experimental finger dips into you, and you take it readily.

That same finger leaves you quickly, and then you feel him tentatively tugging down your panties. When you peek at him, you find big, green eyes silently asking your permission.

“Please,” you whisper.

The panties are dragged down to your ankles, and then he’s returning to you in full force, sliding a single finger in and out of your hole, curling it inside you as though he’s figuring out how you react to each motion. Before long, he’s adding a second finger, moving so slow it’s torture more than pleasure.

He’s experimenting. Learning.

Your stomach flutters at the thought—he was always a fast learner. Too late, you realize that, oh shit, he just felt that, and now he’s staring up at you with wide eyes and red-stained cheeks.

“More,” you plead. “Please, ‘Zuku.”

The name slips from your lips so easily you almost forget you’ve pushed to a new level with him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, except that he stops and retreats again, to your whiny distress.

“Can you spread them for me?”

“My legs?”

He shakes his head. “I want to see everything.”

Oh.

You shift so you’re holding your skirt in the center, and then a hand slides down to spread your lips for his viewing pleasure. He hums in contentment, and you’re aware of a subtle shifting of his position, though you’re not sure why.

“Trust me?”

“Always.”

That’s the only trigger he needs—he doesn’t return to fingering you, but those hands, large and scarred and rough against your skin, wrap around behind you as he replaces fingers with his mouth.

First a tentative taste, then a starved lick like a man starved, and oh, he’s always been good with his mouth, hasn’t he? Rambling, mumbling, brilliant thoughts have nothing on the feeling of his tongue as it finally plunges into you, the starved way he eats you out.

He’s still experimenting with you, still playing with you, but the curiosity of it all steadily falls away as he lets his instincts take the lead. When he at last brushes your clit and you gasp and your knees buckle, he takes note. He holds you up with ease, eyes half-lidded as though he’s torn between losing himself in the act and watching your reactions as he goes.

Two arms holding you up turns to one effortless arm around your waist. You have no time to consider where the other’s gone—he’s plunging those thick, rough fingers into you all over again, sucking on your clit, and suddenly you’re immensely grateful for the arm around your waist, because there’s no chance in hell you’re standing on your own like this.

His motions approach frantic. He is moaning quietly into your pussy, losing himself in it, and you’re grasping desperately for anything to find purchase on and finding only the smooth body of the car.

It doesn’t take you long. Before either of you realize it, you’re quivering, legs going fully weak, biting down on your free hand to keep from moaning out as you cum on his tongue.

He does not stop. He pulls away, just a moment, and you’re aware that you’re moving, but your head’s gone fuzzy from the everything of it all, so it takes you extra time to realize that he’s laid you across the back seat and climbed on top of you, lips pressed against your own. He keeps breaking away to mumble apologies against your lips—I’m sorry, I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, I wanted all of this to be romantic but I’m—and you find the cognizance within yourself to swallow those apologies with another kiss. You taste salty on his lips.

He is melting into the kiss, pulling away somewhat less frantic than he had been, eyes studying your face.

You quirk a smile his way. “Is it too forward to tell you I think you’re hot?”

He huffs a little breath of laughter against your lips. “Only if it’s too forward for me to say the same.”

You giggle, wind your arms around his neck. “Not too forward, I’d say.”

His hand trails up your side, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. You’re glad, also, for the choice to wear a button-down over a tank top. The decision had been risky, and it’s not like you picked this outfit for access, but you’re appreciating that access now. He’s not even seen you naked yet, but he’s looking over you beneath him reverently, trailing fingertips up and down your clothed side.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” he confesses in a murmur. And then: “I always thought you’d look pretty underneath me. You always looked pretty, of course! I just mean… wow.”

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off for you yet.”

“If you seriously think you need to take your clothes off for me to think you’re the hottest thing alive, I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Oh come on. You’re exaggerating.”

He grinds his hips down into you, and oh fuck. Maybe he’s not. “Does that feel like exaggerating to you?”

It was barely a moment, but that little press of his hips to yours was enough to be sure of one thing: he’s big. Between the muscles and the package between his legs, you are well set to be split in half.

You welcome the opportunity.

“Mm, I’m not sure. Better do that again so I can check.”

Another drag of his lips against yours. Another roll of his hips against yours. This he grants you eagerly, groaning into your mouth.

Something presses at you that’s not him and his devastatingly horny state.

You intake a breath, pull away, press a hand to his mouth. He gets the message, easily—someone is nearby. A neighbor, stepped outside for a moment. He takes the hint, presses his whole body against yours in an attempt to conceal himself from view.

When the presence leaves, and you’re sure you have the advantage of privacy again, you give him a little nod and peel your hand from his mouth.

A small smile, a small laugh. “I think we might have finally cleared the air between us.”

He tilts his head down at you with just a touch of mischief in his eyes. “I thought we were doing good.”

“We were! We were also an entire trainwreck.”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I-I was doing my best!”

“I know. We both were.” You ghost a kiss onto his nose. “We should head inside, though.”

“Inside?” he squeaks, as though it’s something scandalous.

“You do realize you just ate me out in the middle of the parking lot, right? I think you’re maybe at the point where I can invite you into my apartment.”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

“You’ve been in my apartment before. You helped me move in!”

He whines, buries his face in your neck. “That was different!”

“Oh, poor ‘Zuku. But you know, if you come inside, I could return the favor…”

You’re not really sure what configuration of anything makes it happen, but one moment, you’re sprawled underneath him in the backseat of his car, the next, he has you in his arms bridal-style, as though you weigh nothing at all.

He takes the staircase one flight at a time. You don’t go back on your word.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @stxrrielle @snowymaltese @graywrites20

OKAY we are revamping the taglist. I've wiped it of all except recent requests just to quickly weed out inactive blogs.

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know by either replying, reblogging, or sending an ask letting me know what you'd like to be tagged in! (Eg. updates to this fic, all izuku fics, only nsfw fics, only sfw fics, all bnha fics, etc.) If at any point you'd like to be taken off the taglist, no hard feelings, just let me know!

#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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thegeminisage · 2 months

Text

it is time for. NOT a tng update. but a ds9 update!!! wednesday* we watched "emissary" and actually i'm not clear on if we watched both parts or just one since my website is wonky but either way whatever we watched FUCKING RULED. i'm dispensing w the normal bullet points so i can ramble as much as i want

*it was last night actually but it took me all day to type this up so i'm scheduling it to go up later. it got looooong lol

the first most striking thing i noticed about ds9, or at least the first half of what we watched, is that it FEELS like a video game. someone tell me if this is insane. you're playing as sisko. you get flashbacks of his backstory, you get thrown into this starbase that's in shambles and it's Your Job to fix it up. you go around meeting all the secondary characters who will be in charge of this or that gameplay aspect or upgrade system or shop: kira, o'brien, quark, odo, jadzia, julian, etc. the FOLEY in this was insane. all the noise in the back CONSTANTLY suggested a lively and whole universe outside of our direct line of focus - it felt so alive in the way not even the enterprise in tos did. i could picture myself in the opening gameplay/cutscene like slowly walking my character through what will become a hub area that i gradually upgrade over time while kira or o'brien narrates the list of problems. you're starting at the bottom rung and expected to fail, but you can FEEL the potential even in just one brief walk through the promenade. IS THIS INSANE? it feels like an insane thing to say. someone PLEASE write in if you have ever had similar feelings. if they haven't made a ds9 game yet, they should.

i also notice that not only is the quality of the ds9 episodes worse than that of tng and tos - no one has remastered them into 1080p, apparently - but the lighting is very different, as well. it felt WEIRD to see picard and the enterprise D shot this way. but it also lends, perhaps unintentionally, perhaps not, a really gritty atmosphere to what is normally a very clean universe. i guess since we mostly see it from the inside of starships, it would feel like a sterile place to us, but you know how everyone always compliments star wars on how lived-in it feels? the buttons are wearing, sand is stuck in their fancy thingamajigs, etc? this was how ds9 felt to me.

okay. the characters. let's fucking get into it. what's so fun about ds9 in general is that in all other trek shows i have picked out my specialest little guy in 5 seconds flat. tos was spock EASILY. tng i knew it was data before i started. i already know seven's gonna be my favorite voyager character, but i have NO IDEA!!! who my precious little baby in ds9 will be. what a fun surprise for everyone involved. if anybody wants to place bets go ahead.

like, i thought tng had a pretty solid lineup (hence my eternal frustration with its wasted potential) but they're not anywhere as eclectic as ds9's core cast. iirc, sisko and o'brien are the ONLY humans who for once are outnumbered by trek's cool aliens. i'm saving sisko for last because that was the part of ds9 that touched me most profoundly, but for o'brien - it was a little sad to see him leave the enterprise, because picard was right, it WON'T feel the same without him, but i'm really excited to see why everybody says he suffers more than jesus and to find out if the eyepatch is a permanent thing or if it's just mirrorverse fuckery. either way, i win. like, o'brien is cool, and i always miss him when i don't see him in tng, and i'll continue to miss him in tng from here on out, but he could never shine in that show. it's too stiff and too reluctant to put its characters through any real development. it's a shame they can't ALL move to ds9, tbh.

the next person we met was kira, who was WONDERFUL. it took me a minute to warm up to her, not because there was anything wrong with her, but because i figured at first glance she was ds9's version of ro laren, the obligatory bajoran cast member to connect us with the bajoran/cardassian plot - which would of course be good because ro is awesome, but it's not necessarily anything new and i already love ro. BUT I WAS WRONG! kira's personality is very distinct from ro's; really the only thing they have in common is not liking cardassians which lmao Yeah. my favorite thing about kira is that she smiles when she's upset or angry. that's Such an acting choic, to have her grinning at the cardassians when she's almost certain they're about to blow her whole space station to smithereens. all love light and respect to ro laren my beloved, but i think i actually like kira BETTER.

odo: WHAT is that thing he can do oh my god...is this a changeling?? i got that result in a star trek quiz once. i really loved when he snuck aboard the enemy ship posing as a bag to hold gambling winnings. i was like oh they showed us the bag to show us it will get stolen soon BUT NO it was odo!!!!!!! such a fun surprise. the exposition on his backstory was a little slapdash but i enjoyed it all the same, i cannot wait to learn more

i was most nervous to meet quark because i hate hate HATE the ferengi in tng, but he was actually so entertaining! like, you're never gonna be able to entirely remove the antisemetic undertones from the ferengi as a whole, but he was smart, practical, and endearingly longsuffering. i love his wryness and deadpan humor. i have a feeling he is gonna be so much fun to torture lovingly.

meeting julian bashir felt like meeting a famous person. for the longest time all i knew about ds9 was that cardassian guy wanted to FUCK that gay little doctor, so it was a little hilarious that in his first scene he was asking a woman* out on a date. sir do you not know you're gay?? even funnier was the fact that out of everybody in the pilot he had the least lines. we barely know him, but we finally met him. relatedly, i can't to wait to meet more cardassians, especially The cardassian. so far, they're still all gay.

*jadzia!!! gnc/trans queen! the trill stuff is SO interesting and watching that worm slither in and out of people during those flashbacks was so wonderful but also made me wince. i love that she used to be an old man and the jokes about it are actually really funny without feeling transphobic or anything SO FAR. who knows if that changes. i feel like we haven't gotten much yet from her either but i cannot wait.

SISKO. damn. where do i even...first of all, he should be allowed to bite kick kill picard. i say this as someone who experienced a genuine THRILL of pleasure upon seeing picard's borged self again. i loved that whole thing, i'm obsessed with the borg. that it comes back in this small way in ds9, and has such a HUGE impact on the storyline, was so so so fucking good. i always say tng tells and not shows, but even after just knowing sisko for a few moments i felt keenly how much it devastated to find his wife like that and THAT WAS JUST FROM THE FIRST SCENE. and it only gets better! he's a great dad. he's FUNNY. he is not above manual labor. he wants to tear picard limb from limb. and he exists HERE.

the wormhole alien sequence was. so good. it was SO GOOD. explaining linear time to aliens. the aliens using his memories to talk to him. HE EXISTS HERE. back and back and BACK to finding his wife in the rubble because HE EXISTS HERE. he CHOOSES to exist here. he existed there when he applied for a transfer to earth. he existed there when he confronted picard. he never left the ship because HE NEVER LEFT THE SHIP. they dragged him out but they COULDN'T DRAG HIM OUT. he exists here because he won't leave her to exist here alone because damn it we can't just leave her here. that was the most insane series of events i ever watched. like, because at first you DO think it's the aliens taking him back there BUT IT'S HIM. HE IS DOING IT TO HIMSELF. when the penny dropped i got literal chill bumps and when the aliens said "it's not linear" and he, openly weeping, replied "it's NOT linear," i genuinely, truly, shed a tear along with him. TNG COULD NEVER. none of those miserable fucks EVER cry!!! sisko did it in the god damn pilot!!!!!!!

and like, the fact that he can choose to stay at the space station at the end, to shake picard's hand, to exist SOMEWHERE ELSE. AAAAAUGHGHGHG

i really loved the final confrontation, too. kira is so so so so good, again, i LOVE that she smiles when she's angry, when she's sad, and it's not a fake smile, it's genuine and honest emotion, and she's genuinely and honestly going to start eating the cardassians for sport if they don't leave her alone. it was very scrappy, them pretending to be bigger and badder than they actually were because they had no other choice. you get the feeling everybody on the station and indeed the station itself is barely holding together, and what little togetherness is present comes from sheer spite.

anyway, absolutely 10/10. i was so worried ds9 wouldn't be good but it not only met my most furtive hopes it surpassed them with flying colors. it's gonna be REAL hard to go back to tng after this.

#personal #star trek blogging #ds9 lb #what an exciting tag to finally get to use!

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Note

— To Bennett.

I see that you've been trying a lot to hide your emotions lately, as your explorations like always...don't go as planned. I know it's frustrating, I can see that you're trying your best to not give up, I admire your determination.

But, don't forget that bottling up your feelings is not the best way out for everything. It's okay to feel sad, to feel depressed. It's one of the things that makes you human.

I can't physically be by your side by now, I can't help you with your bad luck...But you can cry all you want. I'll make sure to watch over you in my own ways.

I have a gift for you, I hope you like it.

The letter has with it a handmade silver bracelet with little red jewels on it's intricate design, it looks resistant and not so easy to take off the moment you put on your wrist. A perfect fit for an adventure like him, there is also a little chibi drawing of the woman who wrote the letter, she's smiling.

bennett picks his way through the whispering woods carefully, making sure he doesn’t trip on anything. his expedition went horrible, if you could even call it that, and the last thing he needs is any dirt on his wounds. he’s already wrapped them—somebody as unlucky as him always keeps bandages on hand—but knowing his luck, they’d probably get dirty anyway.

his arms ache and his legs are sore, but he continues to trudge on, kicking aside a rock to fry and silently vent off some of his anger. unfortunately, he slips on some mud just beneath it, the scrapes on his hands stinging as he catches himself on a tree.

his eyes blur, the light from nearby lampgrass twisting and warping, but he wipes away his tears. now isn’t the time, not when it’s getting so late and he’s still not back at the city. the last thing he needs is to worry his dads…

except when he looks up, there’s still a bright spot in his vision. he worries, for a brief moment, that he’s somehow injured himself horribly, but when he lifts a hand to bat at it on instinct, he hits something.

the small star falls apart as he watches, dropping a letter, folded in thirds. when he opens it, a silver bracelet waits inside, shimmering stones inlaid on its surface. it’s hard to see with the dim lighting, so he looks around before sitting besides some lamp grass, slipping the bracelet on his wrist as he reads.

oh. you’ve… seen him.

he’s a bit embarrassed as he thinks over all the times frustration has caught up to him—at his luck, at the situations he finds himself in, at himself—and bleeds out through his eyes, all the times he’s forced himself onward because that was what all the good adventurers did, and maybe if he was like them some of his luck would dissipate. at the very least, maybe stop affecting those around him.

but you…

he clutched the letter tightly, eyes locked on the little sketch on the bottom of who he could only assume was you, giving him an encouraging smile.

maybe you couldn’t be with him. not yet. but he would always have you at his side.

#[ meteor showers ]#genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau bennett #genshin bennett #gi bennett #sagau fluff #sagau hurt/comfort #genshin fluff #genshin hurt/comfort #i kept it concise!!!! let’s GO #benny my boy ily pls don’t be sad </3 #(i say as i make him sad)#(anyway)

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zooophagous · 9 months

Text

Strauss sat slightly curled in the passenger’s seat of the dirty pick up. He was very pointedly staring out the window, away from the driver, watching the reflective markers by the road fly past in a yellow blur like shooting stars. Sylvain was grinning, seemingly at nothing. She wasn’t apparently concerned with Strauss’ refusal to look at her. She was too busy. Too busy haphazardly steering with one hand while fucking with the radio with the other.

“Ugh, country music. I can’t stand this twangy shit. How about you? You got a preference?” She craned her head to look at his tee-shirt, which bore the band emblem of The Rolling Stones.

“Classic rock fan? We can do that. You at least have good taste, Lu.”

“Where are we going?” He asked without turning his head.

“Like I said, we’re gonna have a little fun. Seems like something you’re out of practice on.”

“I am concerned that your idea of fun will not mesh with mine.”

“Oh come off it. I do have other interests beyond tormenting mortals you know.” She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t still MAD at me, are you?”

“You tried to kill a friend of mine and in saving him I managed to shatter my femur and be confined to bed rest.” Strauss replied flatly. “I loathe bed rest.”

“Come on. That was weeks ago!” Sylvain protested in a mock whiny voice. “You were barely on bed rest for two weeks, if that, I’m sure. I know you didn’t take long to heal. A drop in the bucket, for someone as long lived as you. Practically a minor inconvenience.”

“It is less minor for Mr. Samuel, who nearly lost his life.”

“Look, I had no idea he was as gung ho about dying as he was, ok?” She huffed. “Fine. You win. I’m sorry I almost killed Mr. Samuel by using my advanced powers of psychic suggestion to convince him to commit suicide. That’s as much of an apology as you’re going to get. Now will you try and look at me when I’m talking?”

Strauss inhaled deeply, and did as she asked, finally forcing himself to look at her. She felt so much larger than him, even though the opposite was true. She was nearly too short to reach the pedals of the obnoxiously large truck. Her claw rested casually on the steering wheel, the other tapped along in time to the music on the car door out the open window.

He harbored a multitude of regrets. This was supposed to be an expedition in information gathering. Doing so would be nigh impossible if he couldn’t look at her, much less talk to her.

“Forgive me. I am being rude. It is just… very new and strange for me, to be in the presence of another immortal like this. I am used to it being a bit more combative. It is not as if our previous meetings have been enjoyable.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I enjoyed them just fine. But! Apology accepted, Lu. We may as well start fresh and make nice. We have more in common than not, I’m sure.”

“Beyond both of us being dead, you mean?”

“Both of us being captives- excuse me, FORMER captives of the Van Helsings? Both of us being occult researchers?”

“How about both of us being wanted murderers?”

“Speak for yourself, Lu. You’re the one with the record. I’ve been keeping my claws clean.”

“Is that because you’ve been good, or because you know how to avoid detection?”

“You’re so clever, Lu. Funny guy. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Like me, do you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I heard quite the opposite. I was told you had a hit list of vampires to dispose of, and my name was on it.”

“Told you about that, did they? Color me impressed. They must like you, if they’re that honest with you. No hard feelings about it Lu. I can call you Lu, right? Anyway, believe it or not, I didn’t actually want to ‘dispose’ of you.”

“No?”

“Nope. You were my thesis project for graduation. Harmless little old German man. When they told me your number was up, I was actually sad about it. Sad to see you slip up, you know? That’s why I put you at the bottom of the hit list.”

“How touching.”

“As far as I could tell, the victim in the killing that got you your murder record had it coming. But then, you did go on to kill again after that, didn’t you?”

“In self defense, yes. A Mr. Elliot Lane. Was he a colleague of yours?”

“At one point, yeah. He was a moron. Always felt like he had to prove himself. Be better than everyone else. He was a trophy hunter. It’s funny, I always knew he’d die at work. I just didn’t think I’d ever be buddy-buddy with the monster that took him down.”

“Both of those statements are false. I am not a monster, and we are not buddies.”

“Aww, don’t hurt my feelings now Lu. After all the effort I’m putting in to give you a night on the town?”

“You still have not told me where we are going.”

“Well, I know enough about you to know you’re a biologist at heart. I also know enough about the Van Helsing Institute to know your mind is going to complete waste there. I said we’d have fun, and I meant it. Consider this a peace offering, yeah? You’ll like this place.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to the zoo.”

“The zoo?” Strauss raised his eyebrows and turned to finally face her directly. “The zoological gardens where they keep wild animals?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons. First, because I know you’ve never seen one and it’s pertinent to your interests. Second, because they have a petting zoo with goats, and I don’t want you to get peckish.”

She grinned evilly. Strauss grunted in reply. At least she wasn’t expecting him to join her in hunting humans just yet. “This facility is surely not open after midnight.”

“Doesn’t need to be. We can get in and out easy. Besides, it will be a nice quiet place to talk. That’s what you wanted, right? To talk? You still haven’t told me what about.”

“Yes. I am… building my courage to speak of it.” He swallowed hard. “It is a difficult topic to broach. I worry it may… trigger your temper.”

“Are you scared of me?”

He hesitated before answering. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Strauss returned his gaze to the roads. He rested his head on the window. The cool of the glass was comforting, even though the heavy rumble of the truck was off putting. The road slowly became the city. He had been here often enough to recognize parts of it now. There was the path that led to the bar, and further down, the road to Mr. Samuel’s house.

He winced inwardly at the thought. With any luck, she’d forget about wanting to hurt Sam. If she tried again he may have to break his promise to Artemis not to fight with her. She seemed content to sing along to “Paint it Black” on the radio until it faded into an obnoxious car dealership commercial that played several decibels louder than the music.

Strauss frowned, and abruptly shut off the radio.

“Not feelin’ the tunes, Lu?”

“If I have to listen to one more moment of commercials I will lose my composure. Are we close? I wish to get out of the car.”

Or at least, he wished not to be trapped in a small moving object mere feet away from her while she subtly mocked him.

“It’s right up this way. We’ll have to park and walk. If we climb the fence in the back corner here, there won’t be any alarms.”

“You talk as if you’ve done this before.”

“Of course. Many times.”

She parked the truck and hopped out of it eagerly. Strauss meekly trailed after her. This was already taking far too long. He’d allowed her to call the shots and get him to a secondary location. He was just along for the ride at this point. He absentmindedly stuck his claws into his pockets and felt the smart watch still there.

He gripped it momentarily. That watch was a lifeline. So long as Artemis was on the other side of it, he wasn’t completely alone with Sylvain. Not that Artemis could help very quickly. He almost missed Frau Harker.

“Y’know Lu. Before I got into the vampire killing biz I wanted to be an exotic veterinarian? Graduated with a biology degree and everything.”

“You must like animals. I suppose we have that in common as well.”

“More than I like people.”

“How did you come to join the Institute?”

“Some of my exotic animal research led me to some interesting places. Namely, old records of vampirism in animals. One of my advisors had ties to the institute, so I wasn’t exactly discouraged from learning more from there.”

“And they convinced you that these unique new specimens you’d just discovered needed killing?”

He followed her in the dark down a tree lined path. He could smell hot compost and dung- no doubt the dumping grounds of the large animal waste. Sylvain was the one not looking at him, now. She scanned the fence line for an entry point.

“It’s something they teach you when you learn about wild animals, Lu. Large predators and humans have conflict. Large predators need careful management.”

She found her spot on the fence and made the climb. She looked not unlike a squirrel, or rodent, scaling the sheer face of tall wooden slats.

“If people are in conflict with large predators, and someone doesn’t remove the problem predators, then the people feel unsafe, and they retaliate. They retaliate hard. If a problem wolf isn’t shot, a ranger might poison the entire pack. If a problem vampire isn’t dealt with, then every vampire loses their veil of secrecy, and all of them are in danger.”

“So your venture into the murder of our kind was done out of some desire to save us?” He tilted his head. “It was for our own good?”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t sound stupid in hindsight. You want the answer? You got it.”

She disappeared over the fence. Strauss gripped the top of the fenceline and slowly pulled himself up. Chin ups were arduous, but he cleared the obstacle easily, and lowered slowly to the tall grass of the other side.

“Is that it?”

“Is what it?” She led the way down the gravel path of the staff areas.

“I suppose I was expecting a renowned slayer to have some deeply personal reasons for collecting such a body count. I thought perhaps some vampire had wronged you, planted a desire for revenge, I did not expect your interests in us to be so academic.”

“Not every bad person has the luxury of a good reason for being that way.”

Strauss followed her slowly. His head was on a swivel, taking in the grounds. He could feel many eyes tracking him, and many excited heartbeats in his ears, but none of them human. No doubt the animal denizens of the facility were not used to seeing visitors at this hour. He worried one might sound the alarm, somehow, like a guard dog. No such alarm came.

“I suppose our paths aren’t terribly different. I too took an interest in vampires from the perspective of the biologist. I was more interested in medicine than zoology, however.”

“Interesting, ain’t it? I ended up joining the hunters, and you ended up joining the wolves. Interesting choice on your part too, Lu.”

“I did not go by choice.” He replied flatly. “I thought perhaps, given your research into my life, you might know that.”

“You had more of a choice than I did.”

“You and I both walked willingly into the tiger’s den.”

“Wrong. I walked in to kill a tiger. You walked in because one promised you something and you believed it. Maybe you should think twice about questioning my background when you’re the one taking candy from strangers.”

Strauss shut up abruptly. Her anger was still dangerous, despite the attempts at familiarity.

“Forgive me. I did not intend to upset you.”

“Relax, Lu. You didn’t make me mad. When I’m mad, you’ll know.” She turned to face him with aggressive eye contact. He felt himself falter even further behind her. “Besides, all that’s water under the bridge now. We ended up on the same team.”

“Same team, are we?”

“Sure. Vampires should stick together. We’re a rare breed. We won’t get a lot of people who understand us. Doesn’t make sense to fight.”

“Why then, in our previous meetings, were you so keen to intimidate me?”

“Large predators have a hierarchy, Lu.” She lingered slowly by the fence line as a pack of captive wolves approached the chain link with hungry curiosity.

“I had to be the one calling the shots. I needed you to know in no uncertain terms who was in charge. I didn’t want it to even be a question. So, a little vulgar display of power here and there. I figured your curiosity would bring you out even if I was kind of a bitch.” She grinned.

“Why is it important for me to be brought out?”

“I already said I didn’t want to kill you.” She leaned over the guardrail to look at the gathering wolves more closely. “I still don’t. I didn’t really think that you deserved it. I also know that most vampire research subjects at the Van Helsing Institute are kept there in jars, not in dorms.”

She crossed her arms with a sigh. “You’re doomed there, you know. They want to pretend to be your friend but you’re just an exotic pet, and soon enough you’d be another skull in a cabinet. I wanted better for you. I wanted to… I don’t know. Release you back into the wild.”

“The fact that I can tell you that I am happy and well cared for notwithstanding?”

“A psychological cage is still a cage.”

The wolves dispersed along the fence line. The novelty of the visitors had worn off. Sylvain followed the pack with her eyes till they were hidden from sight.

"It's a bit late to try and just put you back, unfortunately. Whatever worked for you before back home is gone now. If you're going to survive now you're going to have to adapt. And I know you're bad at adapting."

She started down the path again. Strauss wandered after her. "What makes you think I'm bad at adapting?"

"If you were any good at it you'd have done it on your own. You lived in a hole underground slowly starving to death. Don't take this the wrong way Lu. Most large predators aren't very good at adapting. Especially adapting to a bigger predator. They don't know how to cope with it. I get the feeling that it was all downhill for you once bloodletting started becoming less common for illnesses. Am I right?"

"I admit, yes. The advancement of modern medicine was beneficial to humanity, but the loss of that treatment did leave me very hungry."

"Damn shame isn't it. But you know, Lu. Even if donations run dry, you can still keep a clear conscience if you just stick to those who have it coming." She flashed her awful shark toothed grin at him, almost more like an animal baring its teeth than a person making a smile.

"Is that what you do, Frau Pietra?"

"Accusatory tone much? Besides, I know you've done it." She hand-waved him away as she strode down a path labeled "Asia."

"Yes, I have. But if you remember, that one was practically forced on me. It wasn't my original idea."

"Sure, the dead child molester wasn't your idea." She shrugged. "But I know he wasn't the first time you cleaned up the streets a little in the name of a hot meal. Maybe it didn't make it to your file, but I have a hunch, Lu. You can tell me. I won't blab to Ursula over it."

"If you must know, I have lived through two world wars, and I admit that yes… perhaps I did take advantage of the fact that so many people simply disappear into the fog of war. A dead Nazi here or there was not terribly missed. Is this sort of thing what you do often? Do you hunt, Frau Pietra?"

"Shhh. Hey. Look." Sylvain stopped and pointed at a fence. There was a panel built into it made of glass, for the viewing pleasure of the public. Strauss approached the glass slowly.

On the other side of the fence stood an apex predator. It was long, longer in body than Strauss was tall, and it weighed more than three of him. Its fangs likewise envied his own. Strauss ran his fingers along the raised letters of the bronze plaque that gave the beast its name.

PANTHERA TIGRIS ALTAICA

The Amur tiger. Small yellowish dots of reflected light glinted in its eyes. It stood not but five feet beyond the glass, regarding its audience with cool indifference. Strauss made eye contact with the animal, and felt that for a moment he could actually hold that eye contact comfortably.

The tiger blinked slowly, and began to pad silently past the glass, treating the pair to the full spectacle of its size and striped coat.

"That is a tiger. A real one."

"Yeah. Pretty fella, isn't he? Hard to believe they get that big."

"I've never seen a real tiger before."

"That one's not a real tiger. Not all the way. It has the fangs and the claws, sure. But it's not a hunter. It won't ever kill a deer or defend a territory. It will only ever eat and sleep and mate as its handlers allow it to."

"The sign says it is an endangered species. Perhaps places like this keep it safe."

"Safe is different from whole."

Sylvain walked off down the path again. Strauss lingered a moment to watch the tiger. It looked like a real enough tiger.

"I am sure it is quite real enough to humble anyone who tries to tangle with it."

"That's true. That's one thing I like about this place, you know? I don't even think a vampire is a sure winner against a tiger. Puts me in perspective. There's always a bigger fish."

"That is a cat, not a fish."

"Shut up."

"How much longer do you wish to linger here?"

"So impatient. How about this. Let me go feed the ducks in the koi pond and then we'll leave. We can talk more there. Maybe I can give you some pointers."

"Pointers on what?"

"How to be a real tiger, Lu. I feel like that's what you're really curious about anyway. I'd be happy to give you a little lesson."

"Lesson?"

He asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Of course. Before the sun rises, I'm going to need a snack. You're going to help me get it."

"I'll do no such thing."

"I wasn't asking."

She produced a quarter from her pocket, and fed it to a coin slot machine that spit out a small handful of crumbling brown pellets.

"Here. Feed the ducks."

She forced the feed into his hands. It left an unpleasant residue. He helplessly tossed the feed to the waiting waterfowl and watched it sink and be devoured.

#wayward souls #writing #original fiction #writblr

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veinsfullofstars · 4 days

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Your childhood friends au is so cute! Can I ask how poor lil Meta already got himself that big ole scar on his head? If he already got himself hurt his friends would be sooo sad!

Aw, thank you so much, anon! I’m doing my best to channel as much wholesome energy into this project as I can (at least for now, hehe).

As for Meta’s scar, well… I can’t say too much at the moment (got some plans for a bigger piece to explain it in full in the future, and I need to establish a few more characters and scenes first... so many ideas, so little time, y'know), but I can give this little tidbit:

He got it on the day he first arrived on Popstar, not long before he met his new friends…

(ID: A long vertical shot of Green Greens at night during a meteor shower, the navy-blue sky stained in dark tones of color, speckled and streaked with stars. Below, grassy hills and fields are laid out to our right, dotted with trees and thin pill-shaped structures, and a swathe of dense forest spreads towards the horizon on our left. A curling wisp of smoke rises from the center of the woods where something has apparently made impact. In the foreground, on top of the hill closest to us, a telescope - presumably Para's - lies knocked over on its side, and an upturned picnic basket spills snack foods all over a red-and-white-checkered blanket spread over the grass. Text bubbles wind down from the top around to the bottom, the speakers off-screen and unspecified, presumably family and neighbors of Dedede, Para, and Bow. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

Sketch started 04/22/24, sketch finished 04/23/24.

---

Dialogue transcript:

“Hah… Is everyone alright?”

“Y-Yeah… I think so.”

“It didn’t hit anyone, did it?”

“No. It just passed overhead, thank stars.”

“Goodness, that was scary.”

“You’re tellin' me. When I said I wanna see the meteor shower up close and personal, I didn’t mean that close!”

“I didn't know shooting stars could fall out of the sky.”

“I don’t think that was a normal shooting star...”

“Look! Over there, in the woods! That must be where it landed!”

“Oh, dear, do you think we should- Wait. Has anyone seen the kids?”

“They were just here a second ago, weren’t they?”

“You don’t think…?”

“Dammit… Alright, c'mon, let's go! That can't've gone far.”

“Oh, Dee… Of all the times to go running off into danger…”

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Text

F*ck Christmas | Teaser | myg

❆ Paring: Yoongi x f. reader

❆ Summary: Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

❆ Genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

❆ A part of A Hyung Holiday Collaboration

❆ Warnings: Light depiction of inner turmoil, not liking Christmas in this teaser

❆ Collab Masterlist

❆ faq | my masterlist

❆ Authors Note: I cannot wait to share the holdiays with my favorite hyung line @nabiolive @here2bbtstrash and @gimmethatagustd! Keep your eyes out for our absolutely ridiculous holiday madness hehe

COMING EARLY DECEMBER

Yoongi’s breath turns to fog as he laughs. You watch the way his eyes crinkle, shining with mirth under the gray light of the moon. He glows under the night sky – cheeks frozen-blush, lips chapped a little from the winter wind, nose cherry read. Droplets of dew cling to his long hair, a crown of diamonds on a prince spun from moonbeams.

At least, that’s what it feels like as you watch his laughter settle. Yoongi smiles up at the sky and that tight feeling constricts in your chest again. This version of him is so much softer than the teenager you remember. Warm at the edges, melted with a lifetime of experiences that have thawed that hard exterior.

Something like envy slithers through you. Envy that Yoongi has long healed from his hurts. That he seems to have settled in who he is now, in happiness and knowing his path. He doesn’t have everything but he has enough, and as he turns to look at you, dark eyes sparkling, you can’t help but avert your gaze.

You don’t want him to see the inside of you. You don’t want him to see that you aren’t there - that you’re not healed and the thing inside you is ugly.

“It’s more about Christmas as a concept,” Yoongi sighs, looking back up at the sky. Marshmallow clouds drift across a midnight canvas. You can only make out the brightest of stars here, the light pollution dimming the effect. “I’m not religious either, but the effect that the holidays can have on people is touching. Heartwarming. People love others a little extra.”

“Yeah, well they should do that year-round.”

“Small steps, small steps. Maybe it’s an open conversation at a dinner, or maybe it’s someone seeing family they haven't seen in a while. There are so many opportunities for love and warmth and chances to open your heart.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Make fun of me all you want,” he chuckles. “I know it sounds idealistic and a little bit naïve. But I’ve experienced too much sadness to keep thinking that’s all there is, and I’ve seen people’s lives change around the holidays. It’s special.”

You hum. “Why wait until the end of the year for all of that so-called happiness, then?”

“Life is hard - like really fucking hard. Sometimes when the end of the year is staring you right in the face, or when you're realizing it may be your last Christmas with an aging loved one is the push people need to take that first step to being happy.”

“You’re celebrating procrastination.”

Yoongi sighs. He rolls over on his side and props his head up with his hand. You feel a flush of warmth curl through you under the weight of his full attention. Suddenly the cold hard ground you’ve opted to lay on doesn’t feel so bad.

“I’m celebrating people being moved to do something.” His tone is gentle. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He seems thoughtful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “I’m celebrating that sometimes the holidays are the worst time for people. But maybe something small will happen to make them feel even a moment of happiness. Just one small second of relief from the fucking madness.”

You think about everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. A tightness constricts your throat and you try to swallow past it. It takes you a few moments, but you imagine what it would be like to have just a fucking second to catch your breath. To have a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness.

“I just…” Yoongi’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I want people to be happy. And it feels like maybe this time of year has more potential than most. So that’s what I celebrate. Not the gift and the capitalism and the hypocrisy of it all. But the little seconds in between.”

A long, slow breath of air leaves you. You watch it steam and curl toward the sky before fading. “Well, Yoongi. I wish I was nearly as optimistic.”

“Maybe you can be.” You glance at him and see him smiling. “Just give me a chance to persuade you, yeah?”

#yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #suga smut #suga fanfic #bts smut #minors dni #a hyung holiday collab #yoongi fluff #suga fluf

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darkbluekies · 16 days

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I was actually going to sleep then I saw you respond to my ask, I'm actually very interested and intrigued so I wanted to respond immediately!

— Jesus fucking Christ they actually measured the entirety of the ship? That level of hm, how does one describe this, pettiness or determination? Perhaps a sense of both, I mean I'd get petty too if I lost something valuable and ended up getting an unfair compensation. I wonder what the reaction of the Germans were when they realized they actually measured it.

— oh god that's actually so fucking hilarious 😭😭 getting worked up over nothing, I mean, at least they had a design? 😭

— That's quite something, Grey Ghost? Why is QMS nickname Grey Ghost? Does it have relations due to it being not found?

— I... I have no idea what to say 😭 that's actually so ironic

— Holy shit a ship sinking in just 14 minutes is plain terrifying?? Why did it sink that fast anyways?

— Wow... That's actually really sad and quite brave of him too, I don't think I've heard of the Wilhelm Gustloff disaster and 9000 deaths in one night is crazy. Hopefully that guy is doing alright, it's possible he might get survivors guilt, I might research about the disaster and see what I can find!

— woah, the first design is quite pretty! The second one reminds me of a factory for some reason

Ahh this is what little brain juice I can squeeze out from my brain, though I actually enjoyed this and it made my night more interesting! :D I'll head off to sleep now, goodnight!

—🌊

— lol apparently? there were more petty things in that affair, such as painting a ship supposed to be given to White Star Line in Germany's colors, turnign the british officers' quarters to a cleaning supply room etc lmao

— it was a design alright ... just not a good one. The wings of the golden eagle fell of during a storm so they're at the bottom of the atlantic right now. The eagle looks even more stupid without the wings😭 (picture at the bottom)

—The ship was painted fully grey because it was used as a troop ship which made it hard to find it. The ship was extremely fast, so it was fast to catch her. These two characteristics earned her the name The Grey Ghost. (picture at the bottom)

— the ships weren't even alike???? one had an funnel and whatnot?? i'm not even sure how they thought that it would work ... and it clearly didn't.

— It was a foggy night and two ships were supposed to go past each other, but in the fog they couldn't see each others lights, so a norweigan ship called Storstad rammed the side of Empress of Ireland and cut up a gigantic hole. The ship itself was almost half the size of titanic. A lot of people died that night because they didn't have the time to get out.

— I'm not even sure it was legal to sink the WG? I know that it had been a hospital ship during WW2 (it's seen as a war crime to sink a hospital ship), but it seems like it had returned to a normal ship during the time WG was sunk. The reason (i think) why it was sunk was because a lot of nazi party members were on board with their families, supposedly relocating to another country, and was sunken by soviet submarines. WIlhelm Gustloff could only carry 1465 passangers, but had around 10 000 during its sinking. Although there were many bad people on board there were children as well. The actor was a small child, so i hope that he doesn't remember much of it, because I cannot imagine the horror he must live with otherwise.

— Unfortunately, the times were changing and the edwardian design was no longer popular :( I would have loved another Olympmic class liner :(

here's a before an after of the eagle lmao

From left to right: SS Normandie, RMS Queen Mary, RMS Aquitania

I could talk about ocean liners forever. If I got paid by the hour to talk about them I would be so fucking rich I'm telling you

#🌊anon

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reluctantjoe · 3 months

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Mathew Baynton: ‘I sometimes think the culture wars only happen in people’s minds’

As he prepares to play Bottom at the RSC, the Ghosts star talks about why making comedy in the UK is no laughing matter

Before I meet Mathew Baynton I’m half expecting to encounter a version of the Regency poet he played with such expressive romanticism in the BBC’s exquisite hit sitcom Ghosts. Or the flamboyant rapping Charles II, just one of the many historical characters the collective reimagined with antic gusto in the children’s TV series Horrible Histories. Or even the fabulously reptilian Mr Fickelgruber from the recent blockbuster hit Wonka. In other words, surely an actor renowned for playing delicious Technicolour caricatures would be a bit outsized himself?

Instead when we meet at the RSC rehearsal studios in Clapham, Baynton slides along the wall as though trying to disappear into the paintwork. “I don’t like entertaining people socially,” he says apologetically. “At a recent wedding I was too shy to dance. I’d have no hesitation dancing my socks off in a show and looking very silly, but not at a wedding thank you very much.”

Baynton, 43, is about to play one of the silliest characters in the western canon, Bottom, the hapless, deluded wannabe actor in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the RSC. It’s Baynton’s first theatre gig in 10 years. The reasons he hasn’t trod the boards for so long are perhaps predictable – the combination of screen and family commitments, he says: he has two children, 12 and eight, with his partner, the film historian Kelly Robinson. But also perhaps because no other stage role until now has made him think that “if I said no, I might spend the rest of my life wondering if I’d made a massive mistake”.

He’s been relieved to discover the Mechanicals, the amateur acting troupe of whom Bottom is arguably the least talented, are not the “beer-swilling rotund yokels with West Country accents” he remembers from mediocre productions in his youth. “My feeling with Bottom is that someone once said to him he was quite good at acting, and that’s been enough to make a monster out of him. He has precious little experience but just enough to make him think he can do it all. My Bottom will be ridiculous. But there is a real sweetness to his enthusiasm.”

Baynton is very good at finding the sweetness in the patently ridiculous. It’s there in Ghosts (which he co-created) about a mismatched bunch of spectral beings trapped together in a crumbling old house and whose final episode after five seasons last Christmas attracted 6.6 million viewers. There was an endearing bumbling charm to his pathologically helpless Berkshire county council worker Sam Pinkett in the 2013 cult sitcom The Wrong Mans, which he developed with James Corden. Even Fickelgruber wasn’t too menacing.

Surely, though, he would have been even better casting as Wonka himself? “Er, I don’t quite have the global reach of Timothée Chalamet,” he splutters. “Although, a bit like Bottom, I always think: I’d have a go at that!” He adores the way the film embraces old-fashioned spectacular storytelling. “It’s lovely to see budget being used for big choreography and lots of people dancing in a town square, and not just explosions and fights which are usually the things budget buys.”

He deplores, though, how hard it is now to get original family blockbuster entertainment greenlit. “I grew up in a golden era of that sort of thing – ET; Back to the Future. These days you can’t do anything in that area that doesn’t have existing IP. You need to give the financiers a pre-existing brand. You can’t say ‘I’ve written this idea about this kid who is friends with a crazy scientist’ and hope to make it into a big film. And that is very sad.”

You can, though, just about, still pitch original ideas with cross-generational appeal to TV. Ghosts was a rare example of a TV sitcom that enthralled adults as much as it did their children. What’s more, it did so with almost surreal placidity. In a cultural climate that seems to trade on people being as loud and divisive as possible, Baynton’s faith in an inclusive gentle comic mayhem feels positively subversive.

“Everything these days is designed to agitate because agitation is the quickest way to get someone’s attention,” he says dispiritedly. “In season two of Ghosts, we had an episode featuring a gay marriage, much to the outrage of Lady Button. But eventually she realised that the unhappiness in her own marriage stemmed from her sexually repressed homosexual husband. Softly softly, there is a thesis there. Which is that if we could just put our f---ing phones away and sit down with each face to face and talk, then [these polemical attitudes] will loosen.”

Baynton grew up in Southend, the youngest of three brothers, and spent an awful lot of time watching Monty Python and Dad’s Army with his father. He attended Rose Bruford College and then trained in clowning at the Ecole Philippe Gaulier in Paris. His first major professional success was Horrible Histories, which ran for five years from 2009; around the same time he started working with James Corden.

“We immediately hit it off,” Baynton tells me. “We were laughing at similar things,” Corden wrote him a part in Gavin and Stacey and Baynton then approached him with the idea for The Wrong Mans. A classic British sitcom pretending to be a Hollywood thriller, in which two jobsworths find themselves inadvertently embroiled in a fast-spinning web of crime and conspiracy, like much of his work it’s quietly radical.

“I had this bee in my bonnet about how comedy at the time was never allowed to have high production values. You had single-camera family sitcoms and you had brightly lit studio sitcoms but never anything that looked like a Coen brothers movie because the budgets are so low. So we thought, if we write something along those lines with James in it, maybe someone would take a punt. But the BBC said they couldn’t afford it. They said, either you rewrite it, or we junk a lot of it. So we went to America. In the end, it became one of the first America/UK co-productions [it was a co-production between BBC Two and the US streaming platform Hulu]. And that’s now become a widespread model.”

Baynton seems to be permanently busy: he’s currently writing a comedy film, which he can’t discuss, and this year will appear in the BBC’s forthcoming adaptation of Holly Jackson’s young adult thriller A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. He worries, though, for the future of comedy on TV. “For the sixth year running Ofcom has labelled scripted comedy [at the BBC] to be at risk,” he says. “The amount being produced is at an all-time low. I know commissioners wish they could commission more, but for whatever reason they aren’t given the budgets. Which is mad when you think about how much comedy means to people over other sorts of programmes. No one puts ‘good sense of drama’ on dating apps.” Does he think comedy has become a casualty of the culture wars in which people are increasingly fearful of causing offence?

“You might think that if you only paid attention to the culture wars,” he says. “I sometimes think the culture wars only happen in people’s minds. Comedy is wide enough to accommodate many voices. And if you just get out there and go to a comedy gig, you will see brilliant people being funny all the time.”

#mathew baynton #mat baynton #the telegraph #rj: interview #rj: mathew baynton #rj: 2024 #making a seperate post with these pictures #because WOW #he looks GOODDD

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mnstcrbnll · 7 months

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"THE FIRST ROUND IS OVER, STARDUSTS!"

"Plenty of you tried your luck, not many of you managed to get it right! In such a sad twist of fate, some of you even guessed correctly the first time, and then changed your answer in a wrong one! Sad, sad, so sad.

Now, as we usually do before explaining the rules for the second round, I'd like to first of all give a round of applause to everyone who tried their luck so far! Winners or not, I loved to see you guys at work! Secondly, I'd love to remind everyone who got their secrets revealed already, losing a special extra point, and then give you the tier list of every star so far! But first... let us see to who belonged the Secret Secret of the season: " I can't stand the Dragon-Type Gym Leader of my Region. It's not like he's bad, or mean, or evil. He's just very annoying. " And it was...

Why, our Sadie, of course! And she wasn't slick at all, most people who tried their luck with the Secret Secret got that right!"

"It's not like I can't stand him, it's just--"

"--NOW, let us see. First of all, the secrets that have been revealed!"

" I can cook just a few things, but those I can cook extremely well. I try new recipies everytime I can. ", the secret our Hau discovered, was in fact John's! We'd love to test those tasty experiments someday!

" I was adopted by a brood of dragon pokemon when I was a teenager. ", guessed by our ghastly partecipants Gold, was Rika's! Guess that little hint really helped him change his mind!

A very simple yet impactful " I am Dialga. ", sent to Viola and discovered by both her and Ree, was Akira's! And here we thought Red and May were our guest stars, this season!

Speaking of which, " Stole most of the street signs in my town. They never got replaced. ", unfortunately not guessed by our Ree but by Rika's, was in fact Red's! So scandalous!

Another big one, "Uhm, to put it bluntly... I have superpowers. I can't go into more detail than that right now, but I wanted to get it off my chest. I'm tired of hiding and being scared. So, uh, yeah, heh... ", given to Wes, was Hau's! Alola must be full of surprises!

" One Pokemon of mine evolved prematurely to protect me from an ex when I was a teen. ", the quite sad secret Giovanni recieved, was Shay's! We wish her nothing but the best!

And last but not least, " He used to collect the original pokemon cards, and at one point had the original 149 (no mew or mewtwo) ", guessed by our May, was Giovanni's! I'd argue that there are plenty of more juicy secrets from this man, but who are we to judge, eh?

And now, for the points.

With an unfortunate amount of ZERO STARS, on the very bottom of the list we find Akira ( @timeless-timepieces), John ( @soultoken ) and Shay ( @murmursdraconic ). But don't despair, you'll still have plenty of time to gain way more very soon! Our audience believes in you!

At ONE STAR, mostly gained by having a very secret secret, we find Alistair ( @orreasshole ), Colza ( @grassius ), Kane ( @haerith ), Rika ( @monterraverde ) and Yellow ( @yellowsforest )! I expect a lot from you guys, don't disappoint me!!

Let's move up to TWO STARS, where we can find Clair ( @draconscious ), Gold ( @gildead ), Grusha ( @beiowzero ), Hau ( @tapuhauko ) and Red ( @redlegend ). Not too bad, if I say so myself!

Oh here comes the good ones! Sharing the spot at THREE STARS, we've got May ( @badbirchenergy ), Ree ( @skullkxd ), Viola ( @variiavi ) and Wes ( @snagorre )! This is getting intense!

And while we don't get anyone at five stars, Giovanni ( @earth-master ) alone reached FOUR STARS! And we promise we weren't bribed or anything!!

Our second round will begin in a few minutes. For now, let's have some moment to relax with a little ad break!"

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chayacat · 1 year

Note

i have an addiction, idk if u writw for this but ill still ask 🫶 makeout with stan 😇😇

Okay !

First true love kiss.

Fandom: Road 96

StanxReader

Fluff,kiss, first true kiss, shyness, cuteness, Shy Stan, Shy and sad OC.

***

You've been with the eldest of the Sanchez siblings for a while. This untimely ball of nerve had made it clear that no one but him, and Mitch of course, had the right to approach you. If you thought it was just protection at first, you realized quite late that it was out of love. But one thing has never happened between the two of you: a true love kiss.

You have already kissed, on the cheek, the head, and quickly on the lips but nothing really... as to say, passionate. And the cause is your own past love. Stan Sanchez isn't the first man you've fallen in love with, there have been others. And every time, you thought you were finally going to have your first real love kiss, like in fairy tales. That kind of kiss that gives you sensations, a sweetness that you had few memories of in your life. But unfortunately, for these men, it was nothing. You were just a trophy in their eyes. And each time, you ended up with a broken heart. So over time, you told yourself that you would never experience such a feeling of happiness. And unfortunately, Stan wasn't good either. He had never fallen in love with anyone so for him, kissing someone in this way was like crossing a danger zone.

That evening, you were both above the hideout, sitting against the wall. You were propped up against Stan, both surrounded by a long, warm blanket. The sky was starry, a beautiful starry sky. And you absolutely wanted to observe it. So you made Stan your most adorable head. How could he resist such an adorable look as yours? Impossible! But not without taking precautions. So he took the blanket that was neatly folded in the hideout to protect you both from the cold. He would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.

“It’s beautiful...” You said with stars in your eyes.

“hehe, it is. Never doing this before ?” said Stan.

“No...Well, not with someone. My ex-boyfriends never wanted to. They always said they have things to do, or they were tired or some other excuses.”

“Tsk. What a bunch of dagganabit idiots. Are you okay, aren't you cold?”

“i’m fine. Thanks to you.”

You could feel that your dear thief's face was red, given the look he was giving you. And you were not without rest. You could feel yours blush too. You were equally embarrassed and intimidated by the situation. It's been a long time since you've felt this way. In fact, you've never felt it before. And neither did Stan. Besides, you would have liked to know what is hidden under this mask, but you know that it is a subject that for the moment is not affordable with him. But if you could just at least see his lower face, his lips, and actually feel them, not hidden under a hood. That might be a first step. And already a lot for you. You then turn to Stan, who didn't have time to react, when you put your hand on his face to start lifting his hood.

“H-H-Hey ! What are you doing sweets ??” said Stan taking your hand in his.

“I...I just...wanted to see your face.” you responds shyly.

“W-we already talked about it, I can’t. I feel like I'm totally naked without my hood.”

“ Can...can I, at least, see your lower face? Just it. Nothing more.”

“I...I don’t know. No one except Mitch and Sonya see my face before.”

“Please...just the lower part. Promise I’ll just lift that part.”

He hesitated for a moment before gently letting go of your hand, nodding his head. Delicately, you raise his hood until you reveal the bottom of his face. And what you see, really made you want to see the rest. As you suspected already through the hood, his face was finely cut. His chin sported a small goatee. Above his thin lips, a small pencil mustache. If only this part melted your little heart, you would not dare to imagine what you will do with the sight of the whole face.

“It’s good ? Can... Can I put my hood back on?” He asks.

“You’re so cute.” you only responds.

“Heh...Thank you. but you're more cuter than...”

You don't give him time to finish his sentence, sticking your lips against his. The latter was completely surprised, you never wanted to kiss him longer on the lips. But he didn't mind. He closed his eyes, put one of his hands on the back of your head, the second on the middle of your back to bring you a little closer and deepen this kiss. For both of you it was something.... unbelievable. For Stan, it was his first time kissing someone. For you, it was a feeling you had never felt before. Gentleness, tenderness, passion, sincerity and sweetness. All you were looking for. A true love kiss. And for a first time, he kissed divinely well.

You end up gently pulling back looking straight into the eyes, still a little shocked by what was just happening. Stan pulled down his hood, looking away slightly, a little embarrassed. It made you laugh to see that a man like him could be intimidated by this simple gesture.

“It...that was...”he tries to say.

“ Sweet. And nice. And I love it.” you respond.

“I...I love it too. It’s better without the Hood I guess.”

“Much better.”

“Well, if you like it like that, I’ll promise to lift up my hood to kiss you. But in private.”

“Fine by me.” you replied, lifting up his hood to kiss his lips again.

And after exchanging yet another passionate kiss, filled with sweetness and tenderness, you lean against him, a big smile on your lips, both looking at the stars. Then you fall asleep, truly happy about this evening. Everything had come together for a perfect first love Kiss. The sky, the wind, the cold, the place.

And the ideal man to perfect everything.

***

#stan sanchez #stan and mitch road96 #stan and mitch #road 96 game #road 96

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sam-glade · 9 months

Text

Find the Words Tag

Tagged by @dogmomwrites here and @talesofsorrowandofruin here. Thank you both💜

And I'll pass it gently to: @writernopal @morganwriteblr @late-to-the-fandom @acertainmoshke with the words: coin, crane, crack, creak.

I'll be looking through all my draft to find these.

From @dogmomwrites: evident, spectacular, batter, describe, and jump

EVIDENT

The landscape was crisp. Bleak sun hung above the horizon, not quite setting yet. Early March greeted them with another wave of frost, after the winter’s snows had mostly melted. The flat fields, ploughed deep after the last harvest, were dusted white, and the soil was rock-hard. The boundaries of the fields were marked by sad-looking bushes and small plum trees, no green evident on the naked branches.

SPECTACULAR

Lissan snatched his head up when he felt the gateway open in the front yard. He was sitting on the front porch reading, so he had a good view of the opening passage next to the Dragon Tree. It wasn’t spectacular, at least not to him, after he’d witnessed it so many times. A long vertical line appeared in the air like a slit. It grew sideways, to the size of a large door. Through it one could see the Void lit by brightly shimmering specks, as if someone sewed stars onto black velvet.

BATTER

He skirted a large patch of woodland, wondering how far he’d gone already — he didn’t recognise the area at all. Just as the woman had said, he found a sad-looking windmill atop a hill, its blades too battered to be serviceable. He slowed down, waiting for his breath to calm. The cold air invaded his lungs, and his ears hurt from the rush of wind, but the discomforts passed swiftly.

DESCRIBE

“Now, please describe the two people you saw there?” Lissan chewed on his lip. “The woman was thin and she didn’t look very healthy, like her skin was dry and grey, and her hair was thin and wispy. Uh… she was a little shorter than me, but not too short, average height.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably recognise her if I see her again, but I don’t know what else to tell you.” Gullin made a mental note to find someone to draw a portrait from the description. “And the man?” “Tall, tanned, clean-shaven, almost black hair, styled into smooth waves. Fairly good-looking. He had a really nice voice.” Gullin couldn’t help a snort.

JUMP

Lissan was glad to be back in the arena as soon as it stopped spitting. Part of it was indulgence, and he had to acknowledge it — he wanted to show off, and the Swords of Heavy Infantry taunted him and each other to encourage it. He enjoyed their attention and their compliments, but another part of it was giving the others the chance to likewise show off their powers. They had been reluctant at first, faced with a kid unable to describe even his manifestation. It took Gullin jumping down into the arena and throwing his full release at him to convince the other officers that Lissan was pretty hard to kill.

~*~

From @talesofsorrowandofruin (choosing four from the list): teeth, wind, wing, glare.

TEETH

“So, are you going to tell us what brings you to Redguard on this fine evening?” Gullin asked, pushing his empty bowl towards the middle of the table. Ianim kept his eyes stubbornly fixed at the residue on the bottom of his mug. “Orders to deliver a field report to my Colonel in person, so I can receive a reprimand from her right away.” Nikols whistled through his teeth. “That’s a first, ain’t it?”

WIND

Gullin pooled raw energy inside him and let it course through him. It propelled him to move, to act. Wind picked up and a whirlwind cocooned him, strong enough to deflect the smaller pebbles. A dozen of the ones floating nearby converged on him — he heard them zip through the air, his senses honed to the extreme. A gust pushed him further into the fray; the pebbles’ paths crisscrossed harmlessly behind him and they clattered to the ground.

WING

A bird knocked on the office window in the afternoon. The bird’s name was Rime and it was the only black-winged kite in the Winged Ones’ menagerie. It was small, the size of a kestrel. It had white plumage with black eye stripes and wing tips. It was beautiful in its simple appearance. Ianim hated it.

GLARE

“How could you have heard that? You were in the woods, that had to be over eighty paces.” Gullin jerked his thumb towards himself. “I would have heard it easily, Princeling.” Ianim shot him a glare over the old, old nickname. Fair enough, Gullin supposed they had a third wheel at the table. He offered a small, apologetic shrug.

#days of dusk #the truth teller #find the word tag #tag game #writeblr #writeblr tag game

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