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charlidos · 4 months ago

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The Fellowship tattoo

Here's another famed story from the set of The Lord of the Rings: the one about how the mythical Fellowship loved each other so dearly they all got a tattoo. And like with all LotR lore, they can't quite agree how it actually happened. Whose idea was it, really?

Elijah Wood:

That was an idea that we had early on, but a few of the fellowship members were reluctant to do it at first because they felt like, “What if this isn’t a good thing? We don’t know enough about how the production’s gonna go now to determine whether getting a tattoo is a great decision.” So we took a wait-and-see attitude. During the last month of filming, we brought the idea up again and everyone chimed and said, “This is something that we need to do.” We actually had one of the guys from Weta design various scripts in elvish. He gave us pages and pages of ways to write the number ‘9.’ We finally decided on one. And then we all went to this one guy in Wellington, kind of an older guy, who has this parlor. He opened on a Sunday for us. And the fellowship entered and we stood by each other as we all got branded. I have mine just below the waist. We were all holding each other's hands, it hurt so much.

Orlando Bloom:

I think it was my idea, i dont know [laughs]. I already had a tattoo on my belly. I thought of the tattoo to celebrate our friendship, the time we spent together in New Zealand. Viggo called a tattoo parlour and asked if it was possible to do nine tattoos at the same time, on a Sunday. The man refused. The next day, Viggo went to the tattoo parlour wearing Aragorn's clothes, with his sword in one hand. So, he explained that we were making the movie Lord of the Rings. The man opened his tattoo parlour just for us. All the nine got the tattoo done, a nine in elvish. Even Sir Ian McKellen got one… We don't want to show it if we don't have to, we rather like to keep it amongst the nine of us in a way, it's our own personal thing. It was designed by Alan Lee.

Viggo Mortensen:

We all got the same one - the word "nine" in Elvish - because that's what we are, nine. I visited the tattooist a couple times, showed him the drawing and stuff. I didn't say anything about Ian McKellen or whoever may be coming in. He just did it. We did all meet one morning and it was an interesting event, and I enjoyed it. Half a day. Actually everyone showed up. I suppose we didn't need to add another scar to commemorate the real scars we already had. But it was a way of saying thank you to each other, I suppose, and reaffirming the bond that we had developed, and probably always will have to one degree or another, as actors who played these roles.

Dominic Monaghan:

It was a guy called Roger at Roger's Tattoo Parlor in Wellington. He didn't open on Sunday, but we only had a day off on a Sunday. After we all came together and committed to this idea, I think Viggo rang him. He told him, "We know you don't open on a Sunday, we'll make it worth your while." We all turned up there, I think at 11:00, and it was a real party atmosphere. We were all taking photos and writing in diaries. It was one of my favorite days in New Zealand, I think. We first talked about getting rings but then we decided to get tattoos - all together. Then we had a party and took pictures of each other.

Billy Boyd:

It was Dom's idea, but once we got to the tattoo parlor, there was a lot of "Where are we going to have it? Of course, we got the tattoos about a week before we finished shooting, and I wasn't really thinking ahead...so we still had a week to spend with these prosthetic feet! And I had the tattoo and so did Sean. They had to glue the feet on - quite painful.

Sean Astin:

To this day, Elijah insists it was his idea. Given half a chance, though, Orlando will also take credit (or responsibility, or blame). And while Viggo has never sought any recognition for his role in the episode, I'm pretty sure he was a major player. Regardless of it's origin, I do know that the seed was planted shortly after we arrived in New Zealand, and took root in the months that followed. Every so often, someone (usually Elijah) would bring it up, and someone else would second the notion. Then we'd all forget about it. In the final week of principal photography, however, as it finally began to dawn on us that the adventure was really going to come to an end and we'd all be going home, the discussion began anew - this time with an almost religious fervour.

Brett Beattie:

I remember Elijah Wood actually approached me first and invited me. And to tell you the truth, my biggest concern at the time was John Rhys-Davies. I knew that this wasn’t supposed to be for me to be asked to get this tattoo. So I said I had to think about it. But Beattie relented when Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom asked him again the following day. So, on a Sunday afternoon, Beattie, Mortensen, Bloom, Wood, Astin, Ian McKellen, Billy Boyd, and Dominic Monaghan headed to a tattoo parlor in Wellington to get elvish numerals engraved on their bodies. It was an honor for Beattie.

John Rhys-Davies:

Those drunken little hobbits. ... The little bastards got drunk and came to me and said, "We're all going to have a tattoo of the Elvish word for nine. Nine in the Fellowship, and we're all going to have this tattoo." So I did what any self-respecting actor would do when faced with a stunt that might very well imperil his life. I sent my stunt double to have it. Seems fair to me, doesn't it? I'm not going to be tattooed by some drunken Maori. ... Not me. I'm a coward.

Orlando:

I took Sean Bean down to a tattoo parlor in New York about a month and a half ago, because he was not in New Zealand when we got ours. So we got his done downtown. There were nine of us, nine tattoos.

Sean Bean:

We all got together one night near the end of the shoot. We'd had a few drinks and decided we needed to get something to celebrate this, something so that the experience would live for ever in our memories. I was the last to get it. [Orlando Bloom] dragged me to get it done in New York recently. I think everyone thought I'd chicken out but I've completed the circle now. I'd never have got another one if it hadn't been for a really special reason like this. And let's face it, it's not often you make a film and want to go and get a tattoo to remember it by.

Bonus (from Harry Knowles):

When I saw the design, I will not break the trust and reveal what it is… but folks… After I saw it, I went to an area and just teared up. That is how much these folks believe in what they have done. When I asked if Sean was going to get his, Viggo and Orlando shared a look… a smile…. And yes.

#viggo mortensen #orlando bloom #lord of the rings #lotr cast #dominic monaghan #billy boyd #elijah wood #sean bean #the fellowship of the ring #lotr #the fellowship tattoo

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onlygirlaliveinnyc · 1 month ago

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so fix it [18+] ᝰ.ᐟ

pairing: 1996!noel gallagher x fem!reader genre: smut !!, soft!filth, soft!dom noel kinda ? word count: 1290 warnings: oral, face fucking, riding, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, minors dni ! summary: you see him again at maine road, ten years too late. he’s older now, harder to look at, harder to leave. but there’s history in the way he says your name like it’s still his. a/n: based of anon's request— i hope you enjoy!! + made this maine road noel bc... yeah #needthat,, also this photo set lorddddd my baby :{

the venue buzzed like it was alive—bracing for the storm of a sold-out oasis show at maine road. you could feel it in your chest, that humming energy, all nerves and adrenaline and something else you couldn’t quite name. nostalgia, maybe. or dread.

you’d known for weeks that they were coming. of course you had—everyone in manchester knew. oasis, home for a massive fuck-off gig, two nights in a row. it was all anyone could talk about

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. not really. bands came and went through your life now—load-ins, soundchecks, backstage passes handed out like sweets. this was just another night. just another job.

except it wasn’t. because he’d be here.

noel.

you hadn’t seen him in—fuck, what, five years? seven? not since he’d gone off and become a bloody rockstar, all swagger and smirks and stories in nme. and maybe you’d kissed a few times when you were younger, given each other head between boyfriends and years of being each other’s soft place to land. maybe you’d thought, once or twice, that it could’ve been something. before it wasn’t.

and now here you were, laminated pass slung round your neck, clipboard in hand, standing just offstage while the crew ran final checks.

you weren’t expecting to see him. not really. the band had handlers now, managers and security and all the other things fame wrapped around people like armor. you figured you’d catch a glimpse from the wings. maybe that would be enough.

but then he walked in—guitar case in hand, jacket slung over one shoulder, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed—and you froze.

he didn’t see you at first. didn’t recognize you. just nodded a little as he passed, eyes scanning the room like he was already somewhere else.

your heart dropped.

but then—he stopped. turned back. did a double take.

“no fuckin’ way,” he said, voice rough with disbelief, murmuring your name under his breath.

and that was it. just your name, low and stunned, like he didn’t quite believe it was real.

you smiled, soft and a little sad. “hey.”

he blinked, and you could see it—the flicker of recognition behind his eyes, like the years peeled away all at once. like he was a teen again, and so were you.

“fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, stepping closer. “it’s been—jesus. how long’s it been?”

“too long,” you said. “you look the same.”

he huffed a laugh. “liar. i look knackered.”

“you are knackered,” you teased, and something in his face softened.

for a moment, the noise of the venue faded. it was just you and him. noel and you. history between you like static.

he rubbed a hand over his face, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “didn’t think i’d see you after i left.”

you shrugged. “yeah, well. manchester’s small.”

he looked at you—really looked. and that was when it happened. the shift. the change—like he remembered everything.

you saw it in his eyes. the nights you’d spent on his bedroom floor with a record spinning between you. the cigarette burns on your jeans from sneaking out back of gigs. the way you’d curled into him once, shivering and stupid with need, and the way he’d held you like you were his whole world.

“you free after the show?” he asked, voice quieter now. hopeful.

you nodded, furrowing your brows. “yeah. but don’t you want to go to the after p—”

“nah,” he cut in, too fast. his eyes didn’t leave yours. “don’t care about all that.”

you blinked. “your own after party?”

he shrugged, half a smirk tugging at his mouth. “been to a hundred of ‘em. all the same—too loud, too many people talkin’ shite. rather just…” his voice trailed, but the weight of it hung between you. rather just be with you, it said, unspoken but clear.

you tried to play it off, to keep your voice even. “you’ve gone soft, gallagher.”

he tilted his head, grin sharp now. “maybe. or maybe i’ve just been waitin’ for a night like this.”

you didn’t have anything clever to say back. your throat felt too tight.

he leaned in, voice dropping lower. “say you’ll let me come ‘round. just for a bit.”

there was something in the way he was looking at you. something that felt like home.

so you nodded. “yeah. alright.”

and the smile he gave you then—quiet, crooked, real—nearly knocked the wind out of you.

—

your flat was small but warm, lived-in. cluttered in a way that made it feel like you—records stacked in messy piles, postcards taped to the fridge, a pair of beat-up boots kicked under the coat rack. noel took it all in like it was holy. like every detail reminded him of you at sixteen—laughing at some stupid inside joke, humming songs he didn’t know yet.

“still got your smiths poster,” he muttered, smiling faintly at the wall in the hallway.

“you used to take the piss outta me for it,” you reminded him, toeing your shoes off, but your breath caught when he stepped in closer, slow.

that look in his eyes again—cocky, curious. hungry. and beneath all that, something warm and impossible to name.

“y’know,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek, “i used to think about this.”

“what?”

“bein’ here. with you. takin’ what we never got ‘round to.”

he kissed you before you could ask what that meant—low, filthy, soft only in pressure, not in intent. his hands gripped your waist like he meant to fuck you through the walls already.

you moaned into it, let him back you toward the bedroom, past stacks of records and a flickering candle.

and when he laid you out on the bed, it was with this quiet sort of awe, like you were something rare.

“still so fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, dragging his hands down your thighs, moving to undo the button on your jeans. “dunno how i never got my hands on you properly.”

“cocky prick,” you breathed, blushing.

“nah. just been waitin’ to ruin you since we were nineteen,” his hands slid down your hips, fingers rough and familiar, tugging your jeans and underwear down in one slow motion. he didn’t rush—just took his time, eyes dragging over you like he was memorizing.

you bit your lip as he pushed your knees apart and settled between them. his hands hooked under your thighs, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, breath hot against your cunt.

“and i’m not leavin’ till i do,” he added, then dragged his tongue slow up your slit—wet and heavy and so fucking sure of himself it made your head spin.

“fuck—noel—”

“shh, let me eat my girl in peace,” he muttered against you. "used to dream about this.”

you gasped at my girl but didn’t get a chance to speak—his tongue was back on you, filthy and slow, while two fingers slid in with ease, curling just right.

“tight little cunt,” he groaned, like he was praising himself. “can feel you already.”

your hips bucked. he held you down with one hand, pushing your thighs apart wider, tongue relentless.

“you gonna come just from this?” he asked, confident but amused. “my pretty girl gonna let go all over my tongue?"

and god—you did. fast, shaking, crying out his name. you clenched hard around his fingers and he groaned like he’d just won a game he always knew he’d win.

“knew you’d be sweet,” he muttered against you, licking you up again. “like honey, fuck.”

he dragged his mouth up your thigh, tongue lazy, lips wet and warm. you were still trembling, your cunt slick and throbbing where he’d just made you come, but he wasn’t done. not even close.

he kissed your hip, then your stomach, slow like he had all the time in the world, before lifting his head and looking at you—properly looking at you.

“shit,” he murmured, settling between your legs like he’d lived there all his life. “you always fall apart like that, or am i special?”

“fuck off,” you whispered, flushed, still trembling.

“y’know,” he muttered, smirking as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “could’ve had me years ago if you’d just said the fuckin’ word.”

you scoffed, breathless. “i did. you were too busy shagging other girls and pretending i didn’t exist.”

he grinned, leaning over you like a shadow. “yeah, well. none of ‘em sounded like you do, did they?”

he leaned in close, lips brushing your jaw. “and you’re soaked for me. who’s the real problem here, yeah?”

your breath caught, lips parting, but he was already pressing down—crowding you, grinning like he had you exactly where he wanted.

“fuckin’ killin’ me,” he muttered, grinding against your thigh slow. “walked in like nothin’s changed, like you’re not drivin’ me fuckin’ mad.”

you blinked up at him, cocky now. “poor thing.”

he laughed—short, sharp—and kissed you again, harder this time. more teeth than tongue, all heat and hunger and tension that’d been coiled tight for over a decade. and as he ground against you, slow and filthy, you knew there was no coming back from this.

he pulled back just enough to breathe you in, hand sliding down your thigh to hook it over his waist.

“never fucked you before,” he said, almost like it pissed him off. “what a fuckin’ waste.”

you blinked up at him, flushed and wrecked and aching. “so fix it.”

he didn’t answer—just stood, eyes locked on yours, and shoved his jeans down in one rough motion. his boxers went next, cock already flushed and heavy, springing free. he watched you watch him, smirking just a little.

“knew you’d be like this,” he murmured, crawling back over you, hand sliding under your thigh to hold you open.

he sank into you slow at first—like he wanted to feel every inch of it.

“christ,” he breathed, hips pressing flush to yours.

you moaned, back arching, clinging to his shoulders. he didn’t move for a moment—just stayed buried deep, eyes locked on your face.

“look at me,” he whispered. “fuckin’ hell, baby. already squeezin’ me like that?”

he started to move, smooth and steady, dragging every inch out before pushing back in just as slow. his cock thick, leaking against your walls. the stretch was perfect—just enough to make your breath catch, to make your thighs tremble where they wrapped around his waist.

his hands were everywhere—one gripping your hip, rough and grounding, the other sliding under your thigh, holding you open like he owned it. his thumb brushed soft over your skin when he wasn’t squeezing, grounding you even as he fucked into you harder.

he leaned in close, mouth at your ear now. “been thinkin’ about this for years,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “gettin’ you like this. takin’ my fuckin’ time.”

you whined, hand fisting in the sheets. “noel—”

“uh uh,” he muttered, speeding up just a bit. “eyes stay on mine.”

you looked up at him, wrecked, your mouth open in a moan as he kept hitting that spot inside you—deep, sure, almost unfair.

“that’s it,” he panted, eyes dark and locked on yours. “there’s my girl. all needy for me. takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

he didn’t stop—not even when you clawed at his back, not even when you gasped his name over and over. his cock dragged against your walls perfectly, his tip leaking inside you, making it wetter, messier, filthier.

“you feel so good,” he groaned, forehead pressing to yours. “feel made for me. fuckin’ made to take my cock.”

your moans started to break, louder now, desperate. your thighs trembled, your nails dug in.

“you’re gonna come for me, yeah? come on my cock, baby. i’ve got you.” he whispered, still rocking into you, slow but so full.

and fuck—you did. hard. full-body, shaking, eyes rolling back, clenching around him so tight he groaned low in your ear like he was unraveling.

he didn’t come yet. he held you through it, kissed your temple, praised you over and over. “so good to me. that’s my girl."

then—just when your legs went limp—he pulled out.

you blinked, dazed and slick and fucked-out beneath him. his cock was flushed, glistening, leaking against his stomach as he sat back on his heels.

“get up,” he said roughly, hand wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking slow. “wanna see that pretty mouth on me.”

you sat up slowly, still catching your breath, and got on all fours in front of him. your mouth hovered over his cock, swollen and shining with how soaked he was from being inside you.

his fingers found your hair, guiding you down.

“that’s it, love,” he murmured. “don’t be shy.”

you opened your mouth, took him in, tongue curling around the head. he groaned low, hand tightening in your hair.

he started to thrust—slow at first, then deeper. mouth-fucking you like he owned it. you choked softly around him, tears gathering in your lashes, but you didn’t stop. didn’t want to.

you reached down between your legs, desperate to touch yourself—but his hand caught your wrist.

“nuh uh,” he rasped, hips still moving, voice like gravel. “you don’t get to touch. not unless i say.”

you whimpered, eyes glassy, throat full of him.

he groaned at the sight. “fuck—look at you. all mine like this.”

then he pulled out suddenly, breath ragged. cupped your face in both hands, kissed you like he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“ride me,” he whispered, voice rough and aching. “wanna see that fuckin’ face when i come inside you.”

you nodded, dizzy and soaked, letting him fall back against the pillows. you crawled into his lap, and he held your hips as you sank down onto him again.

you were soaked—his cock slid in with no resistance, just that perfect stretch that made your mouth fall open.

you started to move, hips rolling slow, and he let you—his hands guiding you, eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing that mattered.

“that’s it, baby,” he whispered. “show me how much you missed me.”

your hips moved slow at first, circling, grinding down until his cock hit deep. he groaned beneath you, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he couldn’t believe how good it felt.

“fuck,” he breathed. “look at you. making me feel so fucking good.”

you braced yourself on his chest, thighs already shaking. he kept one hand on your hip, guiding, grounding—his thumb brushing the soft skin there like he was touching something fragile. the other came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“eyes on me,” he said, soft but firm. “wanna see you fall apart.”

you nodded, breath catching, trying to keep pace—but he felt too good, the stretch too much, the way he filled you too deep.

“go on,” he rasped, watching you ride him. “show me how much you want it. want me.”

his cock throbbed inside you—still slick, still hot, leaking against your walls. you clenched around him hard, and his fingers dug into your hips, just enough to sting.

“fuck—this fuckin’ cunt,” he muttered, looking down where you were joined. “grippin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

you whimpered, head dropping to his shoulder. “noel—can’t—gonna—”

“you can,” he murmured, hand trailing up your back, pulling you in closer. “want you to come while you’re on top of me, baby.”

he fucked up into you now—meeting your movements, matching your rhythm. the pressure was too much, too perfect. you buried your face in his neck, gasping, trembling all over.

his hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles.

“there,” he breathed, voice shaking. “that’s it, come on. give it to me, love.”

your body locked up, thighs squeezing tight around him, a moan breaking from your throat as you came hard. your second orgasm hit like a wave—sharp, overwhelming, wet.

he groaned, still moving, coaxing you through it. “so fuckin’ good to me. that’s my girl.”

you clenched around him as he came, and he lost it—hips jerking up, head falling back, a rough cry tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, cock twitching deep.

his arms wrapped around your back, holding you tight as he came. your chest was pressed to his, the heat between you dizzying.

he didn’t pull out—not right away. just held you close, lips brushing your temple, hands smoothing up and down your back.

he cupped the back of your head, kissed your hair. “gonna keep you like this. not lettin’ you go again.”

“was yours already,” you mumbled against his skin, voice small.

he kissed you again—slow, open-mouthed, lazy like he was trying to memorize you. your hand brushed up into his hair, fingers tangling, and you stayed like that for a while, tangled and quiet, not saying what you both knew: that if you moved, if you got dressed, if you let time start again, it’d all fall apart.

—

you woke to sunlight creeping through the blinds, soft and golden. he was still there.

laying beside you, one arm under his head, the other thrown across your waist like he’d meant to keep you in place.

his eyes were already on you—half-lidded, sleepy, but watching.

“mornin’, gorgeous,” he rasped.

you smiled before you could help it, voice still rough. “hey.”

he tugged you closer, burying his face in your neck. “dunno how the fuck i’m supposed to let you go."

he kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, slow and sweet. “missed you, y’know. all this time. even when i didn’t know i was.”

you huffed, soft but disbelieving. “liar.”

his head lifted just enough to look at you, brows furrowing like you’d insulted him.

“oi,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face. “not lyin’. never about that.”

“you were off shagging half of london,” you said, not bitter—just tired. honest. “you didn’t miss me.”

“i did,” he said, firm now, like he needed you to believe it. “i did. i just didn’t know what i was missin’ ‘til i saw you again.”

his hand slid up to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking just under your cheekbone. “was always you, love. even when i was too fuckin’ stupid to see it.”

your throat tightened. his voice was rough with sleep and truth, warm breath ghosting over your lips.

“swear it,” you whispered.

he leaned in, kissed you slow. “swear on every shit song i ever wrote.”

#oasis #oasis fanfiction #britpop #britpop fanfiction #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #noel gallagher fanfiction #noel gallagher/reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher/you #smut

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rapunzellovesbooks · 1 month ago

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I think that one of the biggest misconceptions in the Bridgerton fandom is what "the show is supposed to do with its actors once their season airs" and what people think if that does not happen.

Let me explain.

I always hear that once your BGT season airs, you then will get all of these amazing opportunities. And the example that always comes up is Jonathan Bailey. It all boils down to him and the massive success and recognition he has earned since his season of BGT aired. The problem is... JB has been around for quite a while. I knew him from Broadchurch, Doctor Who and other minor roles in shows. Sure, BGT is his most well known role, but this also has changed since then and now it is Wicked. There are people who genuinely had no clue he was in BGT. But the fact that most of these big roles came out after his BGT season made people look at the BGT effect. Netflix is a massive platform so, yes, I understand that having your show on it and being advertised everywhere in the world will do wonders for your career. However... is it really the BGT season that does it all?

This is then used as a way to insult other actors whose rise to fame and billboards has not been as fast as JB (I say fast meaning after the BGT season, the dude has been around and I am sure he disagrees with BGT being the reason of where he is now), like, Rege Jean Page. I cannot tell you the amount of jokes I have seen at his expense for "only" starring in one movie as a side character since season 1 aired, paired with people being pissed at him for not returning. Phoebe also did not get roles immediately and I can only recall one Netflix movie of hers. Simone is the same thing, again, she has had roles before and after BGT Season 2 starred in a minor role in the Little Mermaid and then this year she made her own rom com.

Which brings me to Luke Newton and Nicola. It is safe to say that Nicola is way more online than Luke, way more present at award and fashion shows, at events in general. Luke disappears and is only seen every few months. Him not booking a role right after BGT 3 was used to call him jobless and many other things, comparing him with JB and even Nicola, who went straight from the premiere to a movie in Malta. Never mind that Luke went to Rome in November and show two projects at the same time. But people do not see that. They believe Nicola got her roles because of BGT, following the BGT effect. No, she did not. The effect is in our minds. Nicola has also been around, she was in Derry Girls and that show only became the phenomenon it is now because it went up on Netflix, which is great. But BGT did not get her that role.

Because if we go by the BGT effect, why is Claudia Jesse still only Eloise to so many people? She has been in every single episode of the show and she is clearly a fan favourite. So, why? Exactly. There is no why.

Getting roles has nothing to do with BGT or how well your did in your season. BGT is not the reason someone gets famous or books a lot of roles. It can certainly help for visibility but it is not the catalyst.

Stop comparing them. Stop trying to replicate JB and stop acting as if you know anything about booking acting jobs in Hollywood or what each of these actors want.

I had to get it off my chest because it makes me quite angry to see all of these actors compete in an imaginary race to be the next JB. That is not how it works.

#bridgerton #luke newton #nicola coughlan

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months ago

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Una O'Connor (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Invisible Man, The Bride of Frankenstein)—One of my favorite character actresses! While many people know her as the shrieking innkeeper's wife in The Invisible Man, I've always loved when she played a character who was a little more grounded (though that scream of hers is pretty iconic.) Her character of Bess is warm and loving towards Marian, but also tough and takes no prisoners. When they are captured in the forest, she comes forward to protect Marian with so much ferocity that Sir Guy (the villain) moves out of the way so quickly because even he doesn't want to feel Bess' wrath. She could switch from hilariously over-the-top to gently and sweet in the blink of an eye and she deserves a little more recognition! Also her hats in Robin Hood are ridiculous and I love them.

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Una O'Connor:

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she eats this:

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The things this woman does with her face when she sees Frankenstein's creature. Your fave could never.

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Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

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"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

youtube

#zero mostel #una o'connor #hotvintagepoll #scrungly 2 #Youtube

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turquoisemagpie · 10 months ago

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It’s strange, but in a world where any previously beloved creator/influencer/celebrity can get caught for doing unforgivable actions in secret and then have their achievements wiped from the halls of fame, I find it comforting to see those affected by the downfall (be it fans or previous innocent associates) getting a sudden energy - maybe spite, maybe vengeance, maybe self-forgiveness - to make create something themselves.

So, your childhood author/voice actor/ tv show or movie writer has turned out to be a cunt? Time to go through a fucked up version of the 5 stages of grief. But when you reach acceptance, a stage where the acceptance is of what’s past is past and who guilt really belongs to, there’s a sudden burning urge to right a wrong. “Sadly, I was inspired by this.” - is it really a ‘sadly’ if you saw something good and can hold that recognition while also recognising what’s a good person and what’s a bad person? There is no 1000% good person - everyone has vices, but does that mean everyone is 1000% evil otherwise? There is an even chance of good and bad, and the fact you know that and can spot a bad thing from good, means you’re in a fair state of mind. So…. why not write your story?

“No one wants to read my story.” - if no one has read it besides you, how would you know that?

“Someone will have a similar idea” - but no one would have imagined it in the same language, colours, sound, taste, size or shape as you.

“Someone will make a story better than me.” - and in this day and age, they might turn out to be bad and be wiped from history for their crimes, and their stories with them.

But those stories still need to be told, regardless of whose lips they pass through.

Disconnect from the paralysis of admiration, believe in yourself - in spite of destruction, create.

#magpie ramblings

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simpingforbots · 3 months ago

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Can I request for you to make a one shot of Sentinel and his pet (human) please. I also love your work!

Sure thing! sorry if it took so long to reply.

Little Birdie

Little chirps filled the room, making Sentinel Prime stop what was he doing and lifting his helm up, opticks sliding to small thing by his side.

Being Prime was not to bad – he had every thing he chased while 134 Primes were still active – fame, recognition and respect and fear. He can do what ever he wants, through the best of parties, have as many Iacon races he wants, entertained by pain and suffering racers, all for a moment of glory and a pinch of fame, quickly to be shadowed by him. The parties where the best, where he can snack on all the energon he wanted, walking around smaller bots, his wings faltering with pride when ever rich snob tries to get on his good side with all the gifts and presents. But even in such glorious life there was still work – he still had to take care of Iacon and his people, even if he did not wanted to, seating through meetings, signing document and do other boring task. The worst thing that he hated – boredom. He can never escape it, no matter how much he tried, no matter how bright the light shined upon him, it is always there, dragging behind him like a shadow. Letting a heavy sigh, he lulled his head on his arm, leaning on the table and watching the golden caged floating just to the side, housing a small thing that made all the noise.

A smallest being ever, no bigger then a servo, cybertronian alike – face, five digits, hands, torso, peds, but made out of strange squishy material, that was easily scratched and hurt, a long fur patch hanging down from the helm - a jewel of appearance on the small thing. It was given to him as a gift from Swindle – a well known bot for able to get the stuff, with moto “You want it – I have it”. Apparently this small thing was called something like a hooman, a native to Earth planet in far away galaxy – a planet that is strangely made mostly out of liquid then ground. They civilisation is still relatively primitive to theirs, their weapons unable to hurt them. When those small things are in big groups they pose threat, but all by them self they are defenceless. And this one was his pet.

They rocked on the small set of swings inside they golden cage, chirping loudly about something in melodic tunes, trying to cure them self from the boredom as well from being cooped inside the cage for so long without any attention. They wore a blue garb with gold plating on their chets and torso, with golden collar around their small and easy to break neck, with gems mended in to it. Their long hair were let loose, but not messy, taken care of and brushed to make it look silky smooth. They just kept swinging back and forth, keeping them self buizy with useless task like this, making big blue bot sigh with jealousy, reaching over to tap on the cage, getting small creature attention.

It’s small helm turned, swing slowly coming to a stop as they stared at him with those small wide little opticks, waititng for something, letting a few chirps in their own language, jumping of the swing when it came to a stop, walking over to the wall of bars closest to him. Letting a small chuckle, false Prime put down the tablet, reaching for the containment and opening the small door, letting it hop on his hand. Lifting his servo up, he scratched the small helmet with another servo, lenaing back in his “royal” chair.

“Gonna sing me a song, little Birdy?” he let a sigh, able to feel boredom slowly leave him alone “sing” he made a movement with his hand, a simple command that demanded a song from a small thing. They listened, room filing with new chirps, more softer and sweeter, a pleasant tone to his audios. Lifting them up, he settled them on his shoulder pad, returning to work with a bit of entertainment. Time to time he wondered what it is you sung about – could you be singing about your home world, missing it in solitude of tune, letting notes of the song carry your longing through vast vacuum of space. Or were you singing about him, praising his beauty, his power and his kindness of taking care of you. He really did not care, as long as you behaved and loved him.

#transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x human #tfo sentinel prime #writitng #answering

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 year ago

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begging you to write matt with reader who's also a youtuber/influencer. I want them to be best friends and reader is naive and way too kind for her own good. my idea is that there's another influencer who has a bad reputation and everyone hates on him because supposedly he's a big red flag. but one day y/n met him at a party and he put on an act so y/n now believes that he's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. they become friends and that's when matt questions her about it and keep warning her about the type of guy he is because matt's worried about her but she won't listen because she's still giving the guy the benefit of the doubt and then they argue about this stuff idk you can change it up I just want this fic to have lotssss of angst but with a happy ending. if you could maybe even squeeze in an angry confession like "WHY DO YOU CARE" iykwim🤭

Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Influencer!reader x BestFriend!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warning: use of y/n, toxic relationship, argument, slight cursing, mentions of blood, physical fight, “slut,” mention of alcohol use, long

inspiration: request^^

summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.

—

Most celebrities quickly become out of touch with reality, allowing the fame to inflate their ego beyond recognition. They splurge on fancy cars, big houses, designer clothing, and then flaunt all of it in the face of their viewers. They become friends with whoever’s currently trending only to chew them up and spit them right out, draining them for as much clout as possible before moving on to the next.

When you first started YouTube you were scared to become one of these celebrities; the celebrities that trade in everything old and meaningful for whatever’s new and shiny. You worked hard to create quality content for your viewers while also trying to remain as humble as possible. If it weren’t for your friends, you probably would’ve fallen victim to the materialism as well.

You had a large friend group consisting of influencers you met after the fame, but a small inner circle made up of your true, irreplaceable friends. Matt and his brothers were a part of this inner circle, all of you riding the wave into fame together. So, when everyone else was gloating over their newfound fame, the four of you remained humble and down to Earth.

Erik, the guy you were seeing, was the complete opposite though. You met him at an influencer event, much like all of your current friends, and he held a certain charm that drew you in immediately. Everyone warned you, claiming he was bad news and would only break your heart, but you didn’t listen. You were naive, giving him the benefit of the doubt and letting his sweet words convince you that he wasn’t what everyone said he was.

You’re currently sitting with Nick and Chris in their living room talking anything and everything boys. Usually Chris would just sit and listen, but the conversation has meandered into the topic of Erik, and he struggles to contain his opinion. An old film plays lowly in the background, a bowl of popcorn situated between piles of blankets and pillows.

“He’s not that bad. I promise!” you exclaim towards Nick and Chris, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re scrolling through your phone, buttery fingers trying to find proof that Erik wasn’t all that bad. Nick rolls his eyes, peering over your shoulder as you shuffle through endless photos on your phone.

Chris scoots in closer, copying Nick in invading your personal space before saying, “I don’t know, Y/n. I’ve seen him at a couple parties and he’s always either arriving with a different girl or leaving with one, or both.” You pop a few pieces of popcorn in your mouth, finally finding the screenshot you were looking for.

“Shush Chris, just look at this,” you reply with a mouthful of popcorn, a greasy finger zooming into the screenshot of messages between you and Erik. Before Chris can grab ahold of the phone, Nick is snatching it from you and reading the messages out loud.

“Hey baby, you looked so cute in that black dress. Can’t wait to see it off,” Nick reads, visibly shuddering at the message. “THAT’S the message you wanted to show me?” Chris scoffs, stealing the phone from Nick to examine the messages for himself.

“Just keep reading,” you murmur, now peering over Chris’s shoulder and shoving more popcorn into your mouth. Chris rolls his eyes at you, proceeding to read the messages from Erik, “You’re better than any girl I’ve ever had.” Nick laughs loudly at that, a laugh that exemplifies how unimpressed he is.

“He basically told you he’s fucked other bitches but you’re the best,” Chris deadpans, tossing your phone onto your lap. He’s had enough with the messages, all of them making him cringe beyond belief. Nick once again grabs the phone, examining the messages one more time, “He’s fucking doing the bare minimum, Y/n. Actually, he’s setting the bar so low it’s on the floor.”

Chris laughs at the comment, getting comfortable on the living room floor and averting his gaze to the TV. “Whatever Nick, he’s nice and I really like him,” you retort, no hint of true bitterness in your voice.

The room goes silent for a while, Nick’s focus being on deciphering any hidden meanings within the messages. You lean back into the blankets and pillows that surround you, joining Chris in finally watching the movie. Finally, when Nick has read the messages 10 times over, he replies, “Yeah you really like fucking him apparently.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your hands swiftly snatching the phone away from him, “I haven’t fucked him! What the fuck!” Nick laughs, knowing the comment trigged you, “Well from what I read, it sounds like you did.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing one of the many pillows you’re laying on and lightly hit Nick with it. The pillow ricochets off his chest, the feeling being more annoying than painful. “Don’t start, bitch. I’ll fucking win every time,” he laughs, grabbing a pillow of his own and bouncing it off your head. Soon you’re both caught in a pillow fight, your giggles and laughter filling the living room and drowning the movie out.

Chris groans in annoyance when a stray pillow bonks him in the head, scooting away from you two and turning the volume up. Matt enters the living room fresh out of the shower tussling a white towel on his wet hair. He watches in amusement as you and Nick toss and turn on the living room floor, turning to Chris briefly and asking, “What’s going on with these two?”

Chris groans again, getting up and rounding the corner to head downstairs to his room, “I don’t know, something about Y/n fucking Erik.” Matt watches as Chris disappears into his room, the statement settling in his mind when the door clicks. You hear Chris’s comment, attempting to hit him by throwing a pillow his way, but missing because he descends the stairs before it can reach him.

“You’re fucking Erik?” Matt asks, attempting to sound nonchalant and casual. But there was nothing nonchalant or casual about his question, especially not when directed towards the girl he’s loved from the moment he met her. You and Nick halt your movements, both slightly out of breath and in shock by the straightforwardness of Matt’s question, he was never the type to be so blunt.

“No, that was a lie made up by Nick. See, Nick, that’s how rumors start,” you reply, directing the last part to Nick who holds his hands up in defense. Matt feels himself relax at your confession, the anxiety that was forming subsiding, “Oh okay, yeah. Good, cause I don’t like that guy.” He’s still trying to play the unbothered card, and he wonders if you can tell that it actually did bother him. You roll your eyes, watching as Matt slings the towel over his shoulder from behind the couch.

“Yeah, alright, because who I fuck is dependent on who you do and don’t like? Right?” you reply, a challenging tone in your voice. For some reason it hurt more coming from Matt than from Nick or Chris, maybe because you’ve been pining over Matt since childhood and he’s never realized it. You’ve seen him go through girlfriend after girlfriend without complaint, but the second you’re interested in anyone it’s a problem? “And that’s my queue to leave,” Nick mumbles, getting up and walking upstairs to his room in an attempt to leave the awkward moment.

Matt doesn’t get a chance to reply as you continue, “Whatever, I don’t know why I’m fighting with you.”

“We’re not fighting?”

“We literally are? You never like any of my boyfriends,” you reply, but even you know that you’re overreacting.

“Oh, so he’s been promoted to boyfriend?” Matt prods, a sassy hand resting on his hip. Truth be told, Matt has loved you for longer than you’ve loved him, but he’s always been too afraid to admit it to you. Both Nick and Chris know, but they’ve never exposed Matt’s true feelings for you because they know your relationship is complicated. They’ve watched you both try to fill the void with fling after fling, only to end up arguing about who’s dating who and ending up alone again. It was a never ending cycle between you and Matt, a cycle that would never break until one of you confessed.

“And so what if he has? What is to you, Matt? Not like you don’t have a new random girl in here every week,” you snap, surprised by the venom in your voice. Matt’s hurt by your comment, is that what you viewed him as? As a womanizer? But his hurt is quickly masked by anger, “Alright so now we ARE fighting, and it shouldn’t be any of your concern who I’m seeing.”

“Same goes for you, buddy! I don’t see why you care so much about my relationship with Erik,” you stand from your spot on the floor, feeling small compared to Matt’s towering figure. The condescending nickname is a slap to the face, quickly informing Matt that you aren’t here to play games or coddle his feelings. He wants to say so many things, all of them about his true feelings for you, but he bites his tongue. Plus, after being called ‘buddy’ he’s not sure you’ll even listen.

His jaw is clenched, one fist balled up and the other gripping onto the towel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Once the silence becomes too much, you continue, “Whatever, Matt. I’m going home, I’ll talk to you later. Tell Nick and Chris I said bye.”

“No, you don’t get to ‘whatever’ me. Let’s talk about this,” his tone is almost pleading, a gentle but firm hand keeping you in place. You won’t make eye contact, afraid that if you meet his gaze the tears will spill.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh, suddenly feeling defeated and guilty for arguing with the one man you truly loved. Why was this so hard for you both?

Matt opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it like a fish in water when he realizes that what he wants to say will only further complicate the situation. He silently watches as you gather your things. You push past him, making your way to the front door without another word, but you’re internally wishing he’d pull you back in and fix this. He doesn’t though, so you swing the front door open and walk towards your car.

When the door slams closed, Matt realizes that if he doesn’t do something about it, he’ll lose you for good.

—

Loud music booms through the club, the vibrations of the bass shaking the walls with each beat. You never pass up on the opportunity to celebrate friends, so when Tara, an influencer friend of yours, invited you to her party you immediately said yes. The venue is filled with drunk people, all of them so inebriated that all they can do is dance, makeout, and continue drinking.

Matt, Nick, and Chris follow closely behind you as you push your way through the crowd of dancing people. They were completely out of their element, choosing to stick to you like gum to avoid any uncomfortable interactions. As you weave your way through the club, you spot Erik in the corner with a few of your other friends, and immediately without thinking you abandon all loyalty to your friends and start walking towards him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Matt asks, voice straining to be heard over the music. He’s holding onto your elbow, grip firm enough to keep you from moving. “I’m gonna get Erik, I want you guys to meet him,” you reply, managing to slip out of his grasp and continuing your journey through the dense population of drunk, sweaty people. Matt wants to grab you by the waist and pull you back, but you just forgave him after your last argument and he knows your relationship is too fragile for another argument right now.

“Where is she going?” Chris shouts, scanning the room anxiously. The club was loud and chaotic, filled with strobing lights and bumping bodies that were enough to overstimulate anyone. Matt’s eyes are trained on you, watching as you reach Erik and cling onto him like a necklace. Chris, upon not receiving a response from Matt, looks at his brother. Matt’s jaw is clenched, prominent veins visible on his arms as the anger begins coursing through his veins.

Chris follows Matt’s gaze, immediately clocking what has Matt so serious. Nick is standing close by, bopping his head to the music. “Fucking hate that guy,” Chris comments, slapping Matt’s back and pulling him into a quick side hug. He was attempting to console his brother, to show his solidarity, but Matt was too blinded to notice.

“Tell me about it,” Matt grits, watching as you excitedly lead Erik towards the trio. Your right hand is holding a drink high in the air as your left is behind you, fingers laced with Erik’s as you dance your way back to your friends.

“Guys! This is Erik!” you look so excited, like a little kid showing off their new toy. But Erik is unimpressed and honestly, he doesn’t give a fuck who your friends are. Matt, Nick, and Chris care even less about him, in fact they hate this guy from the rumors alone.

“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’m Chris,” Chris is the first to break the awkward tension. He extends a hand, dabbing Erik up briefly as to not seem rude. Nick follows, going in for a quick side hug, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Nick. Y/n has told us so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Erik replies. There’s a fake tone laced in his voice that Matt catches instantly, causing him to roll his eyes. Matt waits for Erik to give him his full attention before introducing himself with a firm handshake, “I’m Matt.” He wasn’t going to put on a show, all he had to do was introduce himself, simple as that.

Matt’s hand holds onto Erik’s for a little too long, successfully managing to intimidate him before he pulls away. “Matt. Noted,” Erik says awkwardly, ready to ditch this situation and consume as much alcohol as possible to forget this ever happened. Erik rocks back and forth on his heels, surveying the room for an excuse to leave. He spots a girl he’s fucked before, eyes lighting up as he creates an excuse on the spot, “Hey baby, I’m going to go find some friends I want you to meet. I’ll be back in a bit.” Erik plants a kiss on your cheek before dismissing himself with a wave, “Nice meeting you guys, see you around.”

“Nice meeting you, see you around,” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice, rolling his eyes for what feels like the 100th time tonight. There were so many red flags about this guy, but he was being so nice, so fake, that Matt couldn’t even point them out. And hearing another man call you baby has Matt’s blood boiling, he just knows that Erik throws that nickname at anything with legs.

Chris and Nick return Erik’s wave, but Matt immediately pulls you in close and begins warning you about the type of guy Erik is. “He’s so weird, Y/n. Just be careful please,” he whispers into your ear, the loud music forcing him to be inches away from your face. As he says it, he catches Erik checking a girl out on the dance floor, the same girl that Erik dismissed himself to go talk to.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I care about you and don’t want to see you upset over a guy, especially not a douche like him,” Matt continues, subconsciously letting his hands rest on your waist. It’s a feeling you welcome, wishing that it was more than just friendly.

“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m a big girl,” you reply, a drunk smile on your face. How you’ve managed to get so drunk already, he doesn’t know, but he knows that he feels a sense of responsibility for you. He’s about to tell you to stay close, your drunken state inhibiting you from properly taking care of yourself. “I’m gonna go find Tara,” and with that you’re lost in the crowd again, forcing Matt to loosen his grip on your waist as he watches you dance away.

He leans against the wall behind him, a tight jaw forming as he switches his attention from you and Erik. You’re having so much fun dancing with friends, completely oblivious to the fact that Erik is chatting up yet another girl, and Matt couldn’t do anything about it.

—

After about two hours, Matt has officially decided that he’s bored. He and his brothers are the only sober people, the three of them watching as everyone else makes drunk decisions they were sure to regret later. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Matt excuses himself, earning a head nod from both his brothers. In reality he just needed an excuse to stretch his legs and a reason to walk around the club to look for you.

Matt hasn’t seen you since went to look for Tara. And as he laps the club, he ends up running into Tara, her small dancing figure thanking him for celebrating such a big milestone with her. He asked her if she’d seen you, but she said it had been a while since she last saw you. That worried Matt, especially considering how drunk you were. So, as he heads towards the restroom, he studies every face in the room in search of yours.

When he finally reaches the restroom, he still hasn’t found you, but as he pushes the door open he’s met with Erik’s annoying voice, “No I don’t actually like her. I mean, yeah she’s cute, but why would I tie myself down? I just need her to boost my views.” Matt sees red as soon as he hears it, he knows Erik is talking about you, who else could he be talking about?

“So you’re using her for clout?” another voice chimes in.

“Something like that. Have you seen her numbers, dude? Her and those little triplets she hangs out with are all anyone’s talking about right now. I don’t get the hype, but you know I have to get in on that… Plus, if I play this game long enough, she might let me hit,” Erik replies, the gross comment he made about you earning him a round of laughter from his equally as disgusting friends.

Matt’s about to push the door open, slam Erik onto the floor, and beat the living shit out of him, but Erik continues before he can, “And the look on that Matt guy’s face when I finally do it will be priceless. He’s clearly in love with her.”

Matt’s heard enough, and before he knows it he’s fuming and barging into the restroom, you can practically see the steam coming off of him. It doesn’t take long for him to single Erik out, the adrenaline pumping through his body providing him with a sudden, unmatched strength. Matt grabs him by the color, using momentum and force to push him against the cold tile wall.

Matt is glad that no one is here to hold him back, but even if there was he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing what he’s about to do. “Ay bro, what the fu—” Erik’s sentence is cut off by a swift punch to his jaw, a punch so hard that it has him dazed. Erik falls onto the floor harshly as all of his fake friends scurry out of the restroom, commenting something along the lines of “this guy’s crazy.”

Matt was in a blinded rage, watching as Erik spits blood onto the floor, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to wipe the warm liquid that dribbles down his chin.

“You think a punch will stop me from fucking your bitch?” Erik asks with a malicious, bloody smile forming on his face. Matt doesn’t respond, his fists doing all the talking for him as he kneels to Erik’s level and pummels his face. Punch after punch is thrown, each one leaving Erik bloodier and more bruised than the last.

Erik’s friends must’ve told people in the club what was happening in the restroom because you, Nick, and Chris are suddenly barging in. Nick and Chris are horrified at the sight, but with Erik’s track record they’re not surprised, he certainly had it coming. “Matt! Matt!” Chris shouts, wrapping strong arms around his brother and attempting to pull him off Erik, who’s laughing maniacally like he got what he wanted.

Matt’s stiff as a board, so it takes both Chris and Nick to pry him off the bloody boy. Finally, when they pull him off, Erik stumbles to get up. His face is so bloody he’s almost unrecognizable. “Matt, what did you do?” you whisper in shock, a trembling hand coming up to your face at the sight. Matt’s chest heaves as he tries steadying his breathing, his dark eyes softening a little when he realizes how scared you are.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Nick whispers, the severity of the situation settling into the atmosphere. Nick ushers everyone out of the restroom, and Erik gets one last jab in, “Yeah! Leave you fucking loser! And take your slut with you too!”

Matt was never quick to anger, in fact he was docile and patient most of the time, but Erik’s comment lets you know that his outburst was building and was most certainly justified. If Chris wasn’t holding onto Matt, he would’ve turned around and finished the job, but he’s glad he doesn’t because he catches the pleading look you give him.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Matt asks softly, pulling you into his side and planting a kiss on your head. You nod slowly, eyes trained on the bloody knuckles that wrap around your shoulders.

“Yeah.”

—

The ride home is quiet, slightly awkward, and extremely uncomfortable. The streetlights illuminate the streets, the blood on Matt’s busted knuckles glistening every time he grips the wheel and takes a turn. Chris played music in an attempt to break the tension, but even that doesn’t help.

Once you’re finally at their house, the initial shock wears off. Nick and Chris are quick to go to their rooms, the entire night having drained them both socially and emotionally. Matt makes his way to the restroom, allowing the warm water to run across his hands. He winces at the feeling, watching as a pool of red forms in the sink. You’re upset, even if you shouldn’t be, so you follow Matt in hopes of getting answers.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight?” you prod, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t look up from the sink, instead running gentle fingers across his hands to wash the blood off.

“Nothing to say,” he replies sternly with a nonchalant shrug. In reality he had everything to say.

“Oh so you didn’t beat Erik to a bloody pulp?”

“No, I definitely did,” a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Okay… Why?” Matt was avoiding the question like the plague, not only because what Erik said is something he never wanted to repeat, but because it came with uncharted territory.

“Just…” his voice trails off as he turns the sink off, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his hands. He winces again at the applied pressure.

“You don’t get to ‘just’ me, Matt. Why!?” you’re raising your voice at this point, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you in the process. If Nick and Chris were asleep, you didn’t want to wake them.

“He was being a douche, okay?” Matt’s response is lame and he knows it. “I didn’t like what he was saying about you,” he continues without getting into detail, he was just trying to protect you and if that was such a crime he’d happily go to jail for it.

“I’m a big girl Matt. I told you I can take care of myself,” you scoff. Matt slumps onto the toilet seat, wishing he could just pull you onto his lap and hug the conversation away. “You always do this shit. You protect me like I’m a helpless little girl. We’re not eight anymore, Matt.”

“Sorry?” he replies, a sardonic tone evident in his voice.

“I DON’T NEED YOU TO FIGHT MY BATTLES, MATT!”

Matt sighs, he’s not in the mood for this right now.“He’s just a fucking dickhead, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve you. Plus, that bitchass pussy had it coming,” Matt replies, his voice remaining stern and steady. He didn’t want to raise his voice at you, but he knows it’s bound to happen with the way the conversation is progressing.

“WHY DO YOU CARE, THOUGH? WHY DOES IT MATTER SO MUCH TO YOU??” your hands are thrown up in exasperation, desperately trying to squeeze the answers out of him.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“No, Matt. Why?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU, OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR? THAT I’M MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU? THAT I HAVE BEEN SINCE WE WERE KIDS AND I JUST—” he takes a deep breath, adjusting his volume and continuing in a defeated tone, “just forget I said anything, Y/n.”

The room is silent, so unbearably silent that Matt’s ears are ringing. His cheeks are flushed, almost as red as his knuckles. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Small, quick breaths falling from your lips as you process everything he just said.

“You love me?” your voice is hushed, almost inaudible. When Matt looks up at you, he sees the twinkle in your eye as the tears brim your waterline. “Yes, I love you,” he affirms, it’s simple but true.

“Oh Matt,” you cup his face, suddenly it all made sense. All the times he chased away your boyfriends, complained about a fling, commented on a new friend, it all made sense with this new revelation.

“I get it if you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to pity me—” You cut Matt off with a passionate kiss, it’s the only thing you can think to do. He’s shocked at first, but he melts into the kiss once it registers.

His hands travel to the back of your thighs, legs spreading as he pulls you in closer to him. He moans into the kiss, unable to contain his excitement.

Matt’s tongue finds its way into your mouth, his grip on your thighs becoming stronger with each passing second almost like he’s afraid that if he lets go you’ll disappear. You only pull away to catch your breath, whispering four long awaited words into his lips, “I love you, Matt.”

Strong hands tug you back in for another passionate kiss, the pain in his knuckles suddenly vanishing as he relishes in this newfound feeling.

He’s never letting you go again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: it’s been a while guys 😋💃🏻

thank you sweet anons for the requests, I combined them because they were very similar & I hope I did them justice!

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

Note

Hey hey! Congrats on the milestone! Now on to the request.

Neige

Lilia

Ruggie

Jamil

What would a beach date be like with them? Also please keep it as gn neutral as possible.

- 💚 Anon

❋ It’s a Beach Episode ❋

↳ Beach date with him

feat: Neige ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Ruggie ⭑ Jamil

genre: fluff

note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, reader is wearing swimwear but style is unspecified,

I’m an advocate for sunscreen in daily skincare. It doesn’t matter where you are, when it is, or how resilient your skin is, protecting your beautiful face and body is a must. Also, having grown up near a beach, I have may have lost the hype for beach outings ^_^” But I hope you still enjoy~

2.7K followers writing event

Due to Neige’s rising fame, having an intimate moment with you was not as easy as one would hope. Fortunately, Sage’s Island is a fairly remote area where inhabitants live a peaceful, secluded life which gave the sweet man an idea; a picnic date on the quiet beach.

Neige would be punctual to the meet-up, perhaps even 15 minutes early just so he doesn’t make you wait. Imagine a shy but excited little gentleman would stand alone with a basket of goodies to share, eager to see you.

Whether you chose to wear a swimsuit or something easy to wear by the waters, Neige would be immediately starstruck by your casual beauty. Seeing you glow under the sun while a gentle sea breeze wave through, you looked straight out from a fairytale to him. He specifically chose a time and area where there were little people roaming around, but even if it was as crowded as a summer festival, you were the apple of his eye and everything else would fade into the background.

Neige is very easy-going, willing to go with the flow. If you wanted to splash around in the ocean, he would enthusiastically jump and start a playful play fight in the cooling waters. If not, he’s just as happy to just sit down on a blanket, sharing the sweet treats he made while chatting away about everything and anything.

No matter what the two of you did, the young starlet never felt more at peace than he was with you. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his fans and he’s proud of all the work he put to bring recognition to his name, but there’s just something about spending the day just watching you smile and laugh washes the hidden burdens on his shoulders.

The day ends with the two of you watching the sun set beneath the horizon, Neige’s head laying atop of yours as you listen to the waves and the sounds of your heartbeat.

“I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve been really looking forward to this day! I almost couldn’t sleep last night, because I was just so excited to see you.”

A day at the beach with Lilia would be less of a date and more of an adventure (unless that is your ideal date). Lilia lives in the moment with great vigour so be prepared for a date filled with activities and games.

Lilia would not be shy about complimenting your swimwear, you would be absolutely darling, just like him. The cheeky fae would be confident enough to say the two of you would be the most adorable couple on the beach by far. No matter how you choose to dress, he would be proud to show you off and would bluntly say with no shame, especially so if he knows you get flustered about it.

“Hehe, my dear is particularly captivating today, much like a joyful summer day.”

Expect lots of fun with Lilia as the two of you go around the beach making the most of the day. Swimming, surfing, tubing, trying out the dessert stands, there is not a boring moment with the outgoing senior.

Lilia would be receptive if you were to tell him if you were uncomfortable with some of the activities but at the same time, he would want to encourage you to break out of your comfort zone and live without regrets. He hopes that you would be unafraid to try new things with him, knowing that you can wholeheartedly trust him.

As I say that, I don’t think Lilia would pass up the chance to scare you just a little bit. He can’t help himself if he gets somewhat giddy to feel you hold him just a little tighter as you explored the hidden caves, or when he somehow convinced you to surf with him…on the same board.

You’d probably be exhausted by the end of the day but you can bet that it would be just like every day with Lilia, memorable.

“Oh, let us get a pair of matching shirts as a souvenir. Hmm, those shirts are a little too eccentric, you say? Nonsense! It screams major summer vibes, wouldn’t you say?”

Not gonna lie, you’re probably gonna have to try and convince Ruggie to go on a date like this with you. Afterall, time is money and he ain’t got a lot of the latter. But, give him a pout and ask really nicely and he’ll probably crack. He’s honestly just too weak for his lover, he’ll just pick up some extra shifts later.

He’d try to not be too obvious, but when he first saw you once you changed, he couldn’t stop glancing at you. You were attractive already but seeing you out of the school uniform, it was like a new side of you he hasn’t seen before.

His territorial instincts kicked in as he sensed gazes on the beach towards his direction. Then, he realized it wasn’t towards the hyena beastman… Suddenly, he was shamelessly clinging to you with an arm constantly around you. It isn’t necessarily because Ruggie is jealous, but rather he’s too greedy to share his lover, in any way.

Aside from perhaps some summer shifts, Ruggie didn’t have the time to hang around beaches for fun so he wasn’t sure what to do. However, if you mentioned that sometimes people would collect sea creatures to eat, Ruggie’s scruffy tail started to wag. Oh, tell him more.

You and Ruggie would stroll by the low tides while you went seashell collecting (among other shell “varieties”). While it may not be the date you were expecting, how could you not smile fondly watching your boyfriend looking so cute while foraging for clams and mussels?

But your heart skipped a beat when Ruggie, with a cheeky grin but flushed cheeks, gave you a handful of beautiful shells of various shapes and colors. With his signature laugh, he said that he thought of you when he saw them, thinking you would like them.

Now sitting on a table in your bedroom is a cute little jar filled with those same shells.

“Shyehehe, they may not be fancy jewels or anythin’, but I could at least do somethin’ like this”

Jamil is another workaholic to convince. You would need Kalim with you to convince him that no, the Scarabia dorm will not burn down in the hours he will be gone.

Once you finally convinced him, then Jamil would start immediately packing essentials (and nonessentials) to what was supposed to be a simple date by the beach. Sunscreen, shades, blankets, spare swimwear, chargers, bandaids, umbrellas… you would think the two of you were around to leave the island instead. Even Jamil knew he might be going overboard but he doesn't want to risk anything on this rare day off with you.

The moment he saw you in your swimwear, there was a rush of nerves in his body. There was something about seeing you on this day, where it’s just the two of you, felt intimate and something that was only for him. That compelled him to naturally hide under his hoodie, embarrassed to feel this happy over seeing a new side of you.

Like Ruggie, Jamil has keen eyes and he could tell when eyes were following them. The long-haired man is quick to hand you his hoodie, telling you with ease that the sun is especially harsh that day.

Which leads to how you two decided to put on sunscreen while you can. One of Jamil’s love languages is acts of service so he was already pulling you close to apply sunscreen generously on your skin (wherever you were comfortable with).

The vice housewarden was gentler with your face, cradling your cheeks as he used his fingers to ease the product on your skin. The warmth of his hands distracted you from the coldness of the sunscreen, or could it actually be the burn in your cheeks.

Jamil may not be any better, though. Even after applying the sunscreen, Jamil did not let go of your face, seemingly lost in your eyes. His charcoal eyes drank in your attention, a satisfying sensation filled him as he only sees himself reflected in your lovely eyes as he was sure his eyes reflected only you, As though nothing else was more important.

Eventually, Jamil released your face as he stood up. He offered his hand to you, with a softer look in his eyes. He was here as your boyfriend, after all. No duties, no stressful obligations, just a young man free to share a day with his beloved.

“What should we do, you ask? Hm, would you follow what I say today? Heh, no need to panic, it’s a day for us to enjoy, afterall.”

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digitaldiarystuff · 1 year ago

Text

Need You

omg this was heartbreaking and cute to write at the same time, thank you so much for the request!! you can keep them coming and i can try my best 💕

also, slowly becoming a fermin fan acc but no complaining tho lol

————

pairing: Fermin Lopez x Y/N

summary: Fermin let the fame get to his head and wanted a break, that was 2 months ago. One night he’s pulled out of sleep by a phone call from a hospital saying you’ve been in an accident

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of car accident, bruises and sprained ankle but nothing too graphic

————

Fermin woke up to his phone buzzing constantly. The first time he tried to ignore it and not let it get to him but it started ringing again soon. He huffed with annoyance and reached for his bedside table. The number looked ordinary, he didn’t have it saved and he wasn’t planning on answering a crazy fan’s call at 2 in the morning. He let the buzzing stop and left the phone back trying to go back to sleep but something in him worried, with a loud sigh he reached over again typing the number on his search engine finding it belonged to a local hospital in Barcelona. His heart started racing, his initial thought was Pablo but he was okay at the match today so why was a hospital calling him at this hour?

He tried calling the number back but it went straight to a prerecorded message, Fermin was stressed until the phone connected to the reception.

“Hello, this is Alana from Hospital Clinic. How can I help you?” she asked

“Hey, um, I was just called from this number twice. Can I know the reason?” he said fidgeting with his hand trying to understand if it was just a misunderstanding.

“Can I have your name?”

“Fermin Lopez.” Fermin hesitatingly said, he was recently getting recognition from football fans and was also kind of overwhelmed with it.

“Oh yes, I found it Mr Lopez. It looks like your girlfriend Ms Y/N was in an accident, we tried reaching her family members first, they said they’d come as soon as possible but since they’re out of Barcelona it could take a while and you’re just below them on the emergency call list.”

Fermin listened but after he heard about you in an accident he lost focus, everything the woman said going unnoticed by him. If he thought about it, you weren’t his girlfriend anymore, he said he needed a break but hadn’t tried to reach you ever again. It’s been 2 months with no contact other than the night you called him drunk and cursed him for how easy he let you go and he took your scolding, he knew he deserved it and he also wanted you to be safe so he stayed on the phone with you until you went inside your apartment saying he’d call you to have a proper conversation. He didn’t.

He chickened out, he knew you were head over heels for him, that you’d do anything for him but he was just debuting in first team and his career just took off and everyone kept reminding him that he’s too young for this. He should just focus on his football and girls shouldn’t be a priority. He couldn’t do anything he wanted if he’s tied down at 21 and he let those intrusive thoughts get in his head and became irritated with your presence in his life.

He hated himself for it but couldn’t help himself and picked fights constantly tiring both of you. He’d became cold and distant, forgetting important dates and choosing to go out. Even then you tried to keep the relationship going but everyone has their limits and he crossed yours when he forgot your presentation for your finals. It was the most important thing in your whole academic life and he promised to be there but forgot, prompting your biggest fight ever. That’s when he proposed taking a break until he figured himself out, as he hated the state he put your relationship through. You didn’t even fight him on it, just accepted and went upstairs to gather your belongings. He stood still on his place on the sofa not trusting his legs to work if he’d stand up. You came out the room soon and said goodbye to him, kissing his lips one last time and left your keys on the dresser shutting the door behind you. Fermin still remembered that feeling he felt once he realized you really left, he thought it’d be relief as this is what he wanted all along but it wasn’t. It was pure pain.

“Mr Lopez?” the woman at the end of the line repeated as Fermin was too lost to speak.

“Is she okay?” he asked with a trembling voice. He couldn’t believe something this bad can happen to an angel like you.

“Unfortunately I can’t discuss her state on the phone but she’ll be okay, our best doctors are taking care of her.”

Fermin was already up trying to find any pieces of clothing to throw on as he was just in his boxers. He checked the location on his phone and thanked the receptionist quickly ending the call. He didn’t even realize how much he was shaking until he sat behind the wheel. He had tears on his face and in his eyes occasionally blurring his vision for a second until he finally made it to the hospital. He was shocked that he could drive without getting in an accident himself. He couldn’t lose her, there was no way he could lose her. Even though he knew he didn’t deserve you in the slightest, he loved you with his whole heart. You were his first real girlfriend, his first love, even after all the stupid things he did to push you away he knew you’re his person and he’d do anything for you.

He quickly ran to the reception who asked him for ID and sent him to your floor.

“Room 203” he whispered to himself as the elevator doors opened and he rushed over. A nurse was just coming out of your room with charts in her hand and he stopped her frantically.

“Is she okay? Is Y/N okay?”

The nurse was startled but she was used to seeing people going crazy for their loved ones.

“Yes, don’t worry she just has some minor bruises on her face and body and a sprained ankle. She’ll be here tonight but tomorrow after the doctor clears her she’ll be good to go.” the nurse smiled but Fermin couldn’t bring himself to return the kindness. All he could do was feel relieved, she was okay.

“Can I go in?” he asked

“Um, she should really get some rest. It’s been traumatizing for her.”

“Look I need to see her, I need to make sure she’s okay.” he pleaded and the nurse finally gave in opening the door to let Fermin in.

“Fine but not for too long, she needs some sleep.”

Fermin nodded and took a deep breath, it just dawned on him that this was the first time he’d be seeing you in two months and he was so distraught to even think if she’d want him there or not. Maybe she hated him.

Fermin even thought about turning back and just waiting in the hall but he really needed to see with his own eyes that you were good so he pushed the door further, wishing he had peonies to bring you. They were always your favorite.

“Fermin?” you asked clearly shocked seeing him walk in. Your face had some red and purple marks and your foot was in a big black boot elevated. You looked so beaten and tired but Fermin could swear you’ve never looked so good. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, even when you were apart he tried not looking you up. He didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole and he knew if he started he couldn’t stop until he was begging on his knees at your doorstep.

“Mi vida.” he hesitantly said as he stood by the door afraid to come closer even though everything in him wanted to hug you and kiss you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. If this was under any other circumstances you’d be pissed at him but you were feeling so ran down that you were just relieved to see him. You were in Barcelona for uni and your parents were back in Sevilla, you only had friends here. Well, and Fermin but not anymore.

“The hospital called.” he said and as scared as he was, he walked over to your bed and sat down on the chair next to it. You could see him lift his hand and then retract it until he just went for it and held your free hand. The other one had a tube in it.

As soon as your hands touched you felt your eyes tearing, you were too weak to hold them in.

“No no no please don’t cry. You’re okay, I’m here please don’t cry cariño.” he tried reassuring you.

“I hate you.” you murmured but leaned in his touch, it was like your mind and body were fighting each other but no matter how angry you were at him you were happy to see him.

You knew he loved you and that’s the reason your break was so painful, you knew this was just a phase but he wouldn’t let you help. He just pushed and pushed you until you were out of his life.

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry but I’m here now and I’m never leaving again. Y/N I know I can never undo what I did but I’m willing to try everything. I can give you as much space and time as you need, I just want to be with you and I can’t stand being far anymore. I’ll take care of you and I’ll do anything for you.” he ranted with tears in his eyes and kissed every single one of your knuckles.

You wanted to act tough, you wanted to make him pay for not giving you enough attention, making you feel insignificant but in this state there wasn’t much you could do other than relying on his words. You never wanted to be apart anyway and he said he was willing to do the work this time so you believed him. Maybe it was naive of you to do, but you did. You loved him.

That night Fermin never left your side, he held your hand until you fell asleep and when you woke up he was still there watching you with dried tears on his face. His hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot and bags under them but he never looked more handsome to you.

“You need to sleep, don’t you have practice in the morning?” you asked as you slowly came to your senses.

“No, what I need is for you to be okay. Everything else can wait.” he said while placing a kiss on your temple and you smiled at him, it had been a long time since you felt that at peace and it was ironic as you were at a hospital bed.

“I also talked to your sister, they’re going to be here today. It’s the earliest flight they could find.”

You smiled up at him, you were feeling a lot better with little pain left and couldn’t wait to be out of this room.

“Did the doctor say when can I go home?” you asked excited to see your family again.

“Yes, he was in here earlier and said as soon as you woke up he’d come and check. Then we’re free to go.”

Just as he finished talking the doctor walked in and asked you some questions about your injuries and looked at his charts.

“Well, I think you’re ready to be discharged Y/N” he smiled and Fermin helped you get up. You still had to use crutches for a while but other than that you were feeling fine.

Even though you tried to argue, Fermin found a wheelchair and brought it to you just for you to get out of the hospital. He was being over affectionate and helpful and you couldn’t help but feel blessed. You knew you had to have a long talk about what happened but right now you were happy to have him back.

“Wait, don’t you dare get up!” he said as you reached his car. You were about to ask him what until you felt his hands under your knees and on your back carrying you bridal style to his car. You missed him lifting you like a feather, you felt so good when he flexed his muscles like that.

You blushed a little when he placed you down and reached for your seatbelt even though you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself, as he buckled you in you couldn’t fight the urge to lean in and kiss him. He was shocked for a second and you thought maybe you misread the situation but soon his hands found your cheeks delicately holding you while deepening the kiss. You knew this was a hospital and you needed to be respectful but his lips on yours made your world stop, it was just you two. He backed off with a smile on his lips. You pouted a little but that changed when he pressed kisses all around your face and your new bruises. You felt safe and sound.

“Where are you going?” you asked when he started the car. “You don’t even know where I live.”

He turned to you looking a little unsure about what he was about to say.

“I was hoping I could bring you home. Like, our home.”

You thought about it for a second.

“I know I said I’d respect your boundaries and wait and I will I promise but I can’t let you be out of my sight ever again Y/N and I’ll do anything to make you feel at ease, I can sleep in the guest room as long as you want me to. Also, your parents have already been there. That’s our home and I’d do anything to prove it.”

You weighed your options, you could go to your 1 bed hundred year old apartment and be miserable with your parents and sister coming in and be far away from Fermin or you could do what your heart wants to and accept his offer and go back to the only place you’d consider home. With him.

“Vale, take me home Fermin.” you smiled and he smiled even more holding your hand and pulling it over to him kissing every bit of it.

“Thank you, thank you for not giving up on me.” he said.

“Thank you for being there for me when I needed you.”

#football #football imagine #football x reader #football x y/n #football oneshot #football x you #football blurb #football one shot #fc barcelona #football angst #football fluff #fermin lopez blurb #fermin lopez angst #fermin lopez one shot #fermin lopez x you #fermin lopez fluff #fermin lopez imagine #fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez

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luluplanc · 5 months ago

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Guys we need to manifest a world tour. Last year, I manifested one for Psychic fever and they’re doing concerts out of Asia.

We should manifest a global breakthrough for The Rampage. It’s absolutely necessary for them to step out of Asia and showcase their talent to the world. While I feel like words can’t fully express everything I want to say to them, I’m certain of one thing—I truly want to see them shine on a global stage.

I used to be really afraid of more people discovering The Rampage, especially K-pop fans. I worried that instead of appreciating them for their music and artistry, people would focus solely on their looks. I’ve seen how that can bring a lot of toxicity, and that’s why I’ve always been so protective of them. I thought maybe they didn’t need international fame, that it might be better for them to stay in Japan or within Asia where their artistry feels more respected.

However, I’ve come to realize that they deserve to shine on a much bigger stage. Their talent, passion, and hard work should be recognized worldwide, and they shouldn’t be limited by borders. I know I’ve been a loyal fan for a long time, and that connection will always remain no matter how much they grow. So now, I feel ready to let them step into the global spotlight, because they truly deserve it—and as long as their true fans stay by their side, everything will be okay.

Also, I want to clarify that I have nothing against K-pop fans—I’m an NCT fan myself. I understand how passionate they can be, and honestly, I used to act the same way when I was younger. I know not all of them are immature or overly dramatic, but I do worry about the unnecessary drama that sometimes follows. My concern comes from wanting to protect The Rampage from that kind of negativity while still hoping they receive the recognition and love they truly deserve.

#the rampage #the rampage from exile tribe #ldh japan #exile tribe

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black-suns-rim · 11 months ago

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Valley Family Portrait (Ethereal star AU)

Before the twins were the elders of their realm, their mother, the Priestess, was it's elder. Her children were kept a secret from the valley and the other realms until her passing...

bonus art and short story under the cut:

In the valley light temple “Mother warned us about you…” Mek sneered.

“Did she now?” The king stood behind the two siblings as they were kneeling at an alter, “Well, the priestess was never fond of me… so it’s not surprising.”

“You know you’re not welcomed here. You may be a king, but you’re not our king.” Sah stood up to face Resh, but he didn’t realize just how massive the king was, “you should leave.” Sah tried to sound threatening.

“May I offer my condolences before I leave?” He gestured to the alter the twins had been grieving at. They both hesitated before nodding. The King kneeled down in front of the priestess’s alter, pulling out a white candle. He lit it with his light magic and placed it in front of the alter. He bowed his head as he uttered a prayer. The twins could only hear parts of the prayer. Once he was done, he turned his attention to the siblings.

“Though she may not have liked me, I admired her and her teachings. I know she believed that I was getting rid of our traditions with my advances, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. We both shared the same goal you see, but it’s my methods she just didn’t approve… when I heard of her passing, I knew I had to visit her alter, though I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed here.” He spoke quietly in a soft tone.

The twins couldn’t help but listen as he spoke, “I also wanted to offer the both of you what I had offered your mother many years ago. That is if you’re willing to listen to what I have to offer.”

The two sat in silence and looked at each other, then to the king. They were curious but at the same time, they were slightly offended he had brought this up here. They whispered to each other for a while before agreeing on something.

“We’ll listen to what you have to say, but if we don’t like it, you can’t ever come back here.” Mek turned to face Resh.

“Understandable.” The king stood up, “What if I could offer your realm advanced medicines, technology and knowledge gathered from the other realms? In return, your realm becomes a part of my kingdom and you’ll have my protection. You’ll still have a say over your realm, but I’ll have the final word.”

The siblings whispered to each other, “exactly what kind of advanced medicines would you be able to offer?” Sah asked.

“Remedies that would heal illnesses, surgeries that can save a life, or improve one and much more.” He paused, “I could even offer a surgery that would give you and your sister a second arm…”

The two of them stared at Resh In disbelief. They were wearing cloaks, so there could be no way he would’ve seen… “How did you know…?” Samekh both were standing now.

“It would be rude of me not to come here without knowing who I was talking to… though it was hard finding anything out about you two. Your mother kept you two well hidden from the public, did she? But it was only to protect you, wasn’t it?”

Before they could have a chance to respond, he continued, “I heard you two love to play sports. I could offer you a chance to get the recognition you deserved. Champions of the arts. My champions even..." he paused and placed a hand on their shoulders, "Imagine a stadium full of your fans, cheering you on. The glory, the fame, the honor... All of this only if you accept to become a part of my kingdom.”

Samekh felt excited by his offers. They whispered with each other for a long time before asking him many questions. The more answers they got from the king, the more they felt excited.

“So, do you accept my offer?”

“Yes. We do.” Samekh was quick to answer.

Resh grinned under his mask, “Wonderful!” He gestured over one of his advisers who had been standing far back. They handed him a stone tablet, “I need both of your signatures for this agreement.” They were quick to sign, not bothering to read what was written on the stone.

“Next week, I’m having a meeting with all the realm leaders. You two will be sent an invitation on the location and time. We can discuss and plan further what changes will happen in your realm. We can also discuss your personal matters afterwards. For now, I’ll leave you two with these.” He handed them a couple of stone tablets with information on them pertaining specifics of what he’d mentioned.

“Welcome to the kingdom.”

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tiktowafel · 8 months ago

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personal lore dump for Shihai Kuroiro!! (where i'm probably a little mean to him but it's out of love guys i swear)

verrry late for his birthday but it's here!! :] love this kid. so many thoughts about him to share

i'll just start with the part that i find the most important - the core of his character, to me, is that he is not what he says he is and not what he desperately tries to convince himself and everyone else that he is.

i'm mostly basing this off of how ultra analysis gives him one of the two lowest wits scores in his class (as shown above) despite the fact that he calls himself "the scheming hero" and spends half his joint training match dramatically talking about trickery and psychological traps - while i like to ignore canon sometimes, this little piece of information is something i could never disregard. it's so endearing to me, plus him apparently trying really hard to seem way cooler than he actually is fits with the chuunibyou archetype he's supposed to represent.

severe headcanon territory & a generally slightly lengthy textpost under the read more lol

now, why do i hc he's that way in the first place? well, basically: his whole life he's admired underground heroes very strongly and ended up developing this very idealized mental picture of the perfect underground hero - a mysterious lonely mastermind who hides in the shadows and avoids the spotlight, quietly pulling all the strings and relying on plans and schemes instead of a powerful quirk and flashy moves. but despite all the dirty tricks they're capable of, their heart is in the right place - in fact in a way their motivations are far more noble than those of all the popular celebrity heroes, because they don't care about fame or recognition, they act out of a genuine want to do good. this is what Kuroiro aspires to be and what he bases his entire persona on, pretty much.

and that's because this is also the only kind of hero he could ever identify with - he was always an odd, withdrawn kid who had trouble making friends. he couldn't see himself in all those shiny charismatic always-in-the-spotlight heroes that everyone else seemed to love. so when he learned about underground heroes, he fell in love instantly and decided this is who he wanted to be, over time forming this perfect underground hero image to set as his goal.

except, again, a lot of traits possessed by this ideal of a hero aren't really in line with what Kuroiro himself actually is. he's nowhere this badass. he's nowhere this smart. he kinda sucks at this whole scheming thing actually! he's sneaky, sure, that's by nature of his quirk - but his schemes are way less elaborate than he likes to make them seem, most of the time they're just ways for himself to catch people off guard. he doesn't have the multi-step coordination-based planning capablity of Kendo or Tokage, the adaptability of Honenuki or the sheer sophistication of Monoma (note that almost all of 1-b's plan during joint training match 2 was invented by Kendo and Kuroiro's only strategic contribution was tricking 1-a into thinking he was gonna target Tokoyami so he could ambush Aoyama instead - which is something yeah but still nothing particularly complicated). and he hates that about himself, because intelligence is something that he values and admires so so much - so he exaggerates his strategic prowess a lot, with his hero title and dramatic speeches and all, and does everything in his power not to be perceived as stupid (often failing miserably). it's out of insecurity.

he's also not that much of a lone wolf, either. he does have a strong tendency to isolate himself from others, which is partially because he's convinced himself that he's destined to walk a lonely path in life & content with it (what's a better way of coping with your childhood loneliness than romanticizing it) and partially because the fact that he's constantly putting up a facade does by itself kinda prevent him from forming proper relationships, BUT he's not really happy this way. he's introverted but ultimately not meant to be alone. he does need friends! and he does wish for a romantic relationship, too! but, of course, he sucks at managing those feelings, as we can judge by his interactions with Kinoko and his general incapability of normally talking to girls mentioned in ultra analysis.

i actually really like that he has a crush on Kinoko specifically because it plays really well into everything that i said earlier in this post! remember that something he admires a lot about underground heroes is that they don't care about fame and recognition, and therefore in his view have the most genuine motivations? i like to believe that odd as it is, he actually has a very strong moral compass and greatly values selflessness. so, imagine how he feels when he learns that Kinoko, whom he already has a crush on because she's cute and she's nice to him and she has a really cool quirk (something something mushrooms like darkness so they must be meant to be), wants to be an idol hero. bro's devastated. those people are the epitome of modern hero society's shallowness and superficiality, and she wants to be one! she apparently wants to spend her precious time doing silly little dance routines and shaking people's hands at conventions instead of dedicating it all to proper hero work! and Kuroiro still has a crush on her! that witch...!

and you see, Kinoko isn't actually a shallow person. what motivates her to become and idol hero isn't selfishness (refer to my old Kinoko headcanon list - some things in there are a tiny bit outdated but my headcanon on why she wants to be an idol is still the same!). except Kuroiro doesn't get to know that at first so he remains bewildered and conflicted for quite some time - and i just think that's funny y'know? he eventually learns more about her (second hand, they don't directly talk to each other much, in canon i think Kinoko doesn't even pay much attention to him in general 😭) and starts to change his mind, probably falling even harder in the process - but still the whole thing is complete disaster on his side. he was always shy around her, now there's also... all this, no wonder he can't talk to her at all!!

so, to sum it up: Kuroiro is intense, he's surprisingly idealistic, he's tragically insecure, and he has some very rigid ideas about himself and the world around him that he probably needs to let go of. he's just a mess of a teenager with a lot of to figure out - and he does figure it out, he does get his happy ending eventually! (a conversation with Kinoko, among other things, is something that definitely would be a crucial part in his,, character arc, i guess? and y'know what, while i do really like them as a couple, i think them just getting to talk things out is a "happy ending" regardless of whether they end up together)

OH and by the way: i'm not saying that he's like, going against himself at all times! he's not an actual master schemer or a complete lone wolf but a lot of things about how he acts are perfectly genuine. his affinity for all things dark is genuine, his interest in taboos is genuine, and his love for theatrics is also genuine! in that matter, it's actually not a phase lol he's just like that :] would be blasphemous to say otherwise, that's what we all love him for..!

aaand this concludes my little essay about one of my favorite 1b kids!! the picture of him that i have in my head is very clear, that's why he's the first character that i chose to write this kind of post about - i'm just pretty confident about the hcs i have for him haha. i'm also thinking about writing a more lighthearted list of hcs to complete the vision (ya know, like the good ol days) because there's STILL so much that i haven't shared since it didn't fit this post - so stay tuned for that if you enjoyed this!! see you next month probably

#seeeee i get this guy. loser who needs to make peace with himself in order to stop being a loser. BUT he keeps his charm #post title checks out i was def kinda mean to him here. but the hc list is def gonna make him seem less chronically uncool i promise #it's all gonna balance out 😌#bnha #class 1b #shihai kuroiro #kuroiro shihai #tikto's headcanons #btw if i ever make a similar kind of post again its probably gonna be about setsuna #out of the couple characters im insane about i think my vision of her is the second clearest after mr kuroiro here #while also managing to not be cringe i think #but remember this is an if not a when and ya know how i am.#uhh change da world my final message goodbye

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teatraps · 11 months ago

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Gotta rant about Edgar Valden rq

Cause seriously, his character is so cool to me. Like, you have the basic rundown. Rich kid ran away from home because he was dissatisfied with his life there. But then, all of that ends up just being a red herring. The “dissatisfaction” which always came off as him just being in his own head and looking down on others because he thinks he’s better than them gets flipped on its head with his 3rd letter. All of his trash talk makes so much more sense. He wasn’t just saying he didn’t care about other people’s opinions or money or fame because he was super self absorbed. He was saying that because he knew first hand the damage chasing money, fame, and power can cause. Really thinking about it, his father basically killed his entire family for status. And then, with the slight implication that Edgar’s dad knew what Sarai was doing to Edgar the whole time, he let his son get groomed by a man for over a decade and kept him on a payroll. Now, it’s vague about what Sarai did to Edgar, but it was obviously bad enough to deteriorate his mental health to the point of having hallucinations. All that, and his dad never got rid of Sarai. Never fired him. Nothing. Which makes sense, because having a super talented artist in the family looks good for their status. Probably covered up all the controversy their family had too. Why would his dad care? He couldn’t care enough to let his wife rest to get better from her illness, or to actually look for his youngest child when she went missing.

For the little we do know about Sarai, we know he taught Edgar that praise is the highest form of love. Again, playing into the idea that Edgar was brought up to try and appease others and try to get status and fame. This is even kinda hinted at in his very first letter when he tells Ella that he’s going to become a famous artist, a goal he ends up feeling disillusioned to. The fact he still kept painting even after no longer wanting fame and recognition shows his love for painting was rooted in something much deeper than that. Then, referencing back to his deductions where he says that life is beautiful and the brush can preserve that beauty, it shows exactly what it was that keeps him going with art. He thinks life is beautiful. A simple reason, but a lovely one nonetheless. He cherishes the beautiful moments like the time he had with his mother or Ella.

This also could change what he even meant by looking for inspiration when going to the manor. When he talks about how he finds no inspiration in his home, it’s not something as simple as everything is just boring. He talks about how the culture of the aristocracy is just straight up draining for him. The greed. The constant push for more money and status, even at the cost of loved ones. The shallowness. There’s no beauty in it, he can’t find inspiration in it. Even as he signs off his farewell letter, he implies he would never go back home. He’s not just running off on some little trip to find inspiration and go home right after. He was straight up cutting off the life he once knew because it wasn’t really a life at all. As he puts it, he was just another decoration for his dad. For most of his life, he was kind of treated as less than human. More like a party trick for his dad to show off and gain their family more status.

And while we don’t know much about his role in game 5, the context of the game makes him stand out a lot. Outside of the fact that Edgar wasn’t in a faction at the start and the only character truly confirmed dead, his goals are also completely different from the rest of the group and he thematically differs from the others. Every other character is in some way trying to fix some “issue” with themself to try to assimilate into a group they were ostracized from (I say issue in quotes because it’s usually something out of their control that they honestly shouldn’t have been blamed for). Chloe trying to become Vera to be accepted, Jose trying to get his first officer title back and rejoin the aristocracy (or his alcoholism in order to maintain his station as a first officer in the first place), Kevin trying to prove to himself that he’s reached a point where he could’ve protected Angelina so he can face her tribe, and Patricia trying to rid herself of her curse in order to be accepted into her mother’s village. Meanwhile, there’s Edgar who was wanted by his community, but not taken care of by them. All five of them have a similar goal, to get some form of community and support, but Edgar is in a much different position from the rest of his team since he is more confident in himself and who he is. It’s never been called into question, and I don’t think that’s a negative trait either since every time someone in game 5 tries to correct their “flaw” it causes more harm than good. From Chloe killing her sister who was innocent, to Jose accidentally poisoning Kevin who was innocent, Patricia killing Edgar even though he didn’t do anything to her, and even Kevin being self destructive in drinking the poison. Not to mention three out of four of them feel regret and unfulfilled after they do it (and the one I’m not counting is Patricia because it’s not fully confirmed, but tbh there are things that foreshadow her not feeling fulfilled either so you could make it four out of four). Edgar, at least on the surface, didn’t internalize that there was something wrong with him that made the people around him treat him like trash, mainly because he was always desired by the people around him. These people still weren’t good for him though, leading to the lack of inspiration they give him. As he says, he’s looking for “fresh colors” and Edgar only refers to colors when he’s talking about someone he cared for (his mom = green, Ella = white, Sarai = red). Edgar looking for fresh colors could probably roughly translate to looking for new companionship with people that actually care about him.

If I really wanted to get into the internalizing thing tho, I’d probably say his willingness to sacrifice himself probably comes from…

1. Being so used to getting treated like a tool his entire life he thinks it’s the standard to a degree (hence why he’ll complain about having to play hero roles but still gets them regularly anyway)

2. Being unable to truly repent to Patricia because he can’t bring himself to apologize for killing Sarai (and he shouldn’t tbh, especially considering that was like his first act of true autonomy)

3. And lastly, just not really having anywhere to go after the manor. His goalpost ended at the manor while the other four saw it more as a stepping stone to get to other places.

And that’s not even getting into his overall lore relevance because let’s not act like he didn’t imply the Deross family are family friends of the Valden family in his 3rd letter. PLUS he has ties to Barriere.

He’s always got this slightly hopeful air to him, like he still believes there’s something out there that can bring him the happiness and love he once had. It’s honestly just a really nice breather from the usual doom and gloom of idv’s storyline (granted his story is still depressing asf, but for idv standards it’s pretty happy. Like his 3rd letter where he just goes no contact with his dad is probably one of the healthiest things I’ve ever seen an idv character do). Even in the end, he gets the ending he wanted. He finds the inspiration he was looking for, but tbh I don’t think it was death that he was trying to achieve. His deaths are always portrayed as sacrifices specifically. It’s usually not something he really wants to do. Runaway didn’t want to risk his life and put himself in danger with mir, but he does it because he doesn’t want to abandon the followers to a cult. Censer didn’t want to die, he still really wanted to see his creator’s wish come true, but he accepts death if it will bring it closer to coming true. Even in his experiment file, Orpheus says Edgar accepted it at the end, so he decides to accept it at the end of the game. Most likely for some greater goal that hasn’t been revealed yet since Orpheus was hella vague in his experiment file.

I could honestly go on and on about how well executed his whole character is too. With how well they played into double entendres with his words and used a lot of art metaphors to hide his actual character so on the surface you wouldn’t clock it immediately. Or the carefully picked art references they used in his trailer that all tie into his character really well (I still think he has one of the best trailers to date). To even the way his birthday letters are released. Keeping his perspective on game 5 hidden despite probably having the most reliable account, instead having other characters describe him to play into the misdirection.

I could literally talk for hours about Edgar Valden, he is the idv character of all time and I love him sm

#idv #edgar valden #identity v #painter idv #edgar idv #idv edgar #idv painter #idv lore #chloe nair #jose baden #patricia dorval #kevin ayuso #edgar valden hates the one piece (not clickbait)

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