imagine >
moving into a new city with no friends and family around. having to find your place in an entirely new space and into new people's lives.
neighbour!miguel being so sweet and caring, but also flirtatious and serious when time is best. offering to help you with just anything; driving you to work because you just moved in & are getting acquainted with the city, getting groceries for you when you're sick and/or tired, occasionally even bringing you flowers in the mornings.
neighbour!miguel smiling so sweetly when he sees you at his door at 11 p.m. on a friday night, asking for his help with your new furniture instead of being out and having fun.
neighbour!miguel walking through your apartment door, so happy to help you and spend even as much as a few more minutes around you. and it all feels so domestic and serene; seeing him in his home clothes, just a navy blue t-shirt and sweatpants, in your own private, intimate space.
neighbour!miguel not even asking for your help because he doesn't want you to lift a finger, or worse, get splinters stuck in your delicate fingers. frankly, he wants and likes to show off to you. he relishes in the opportunity to show you how strong he is, how he can effortlessly put everything in place. and sincerely, you do enjoy the show.
you enjoy seeing his arms flex when he lifts the entire underside of the ikea sofa so he could turn it around and continue with the instructions; yet his face shows zero struggle. no holding his breath, no pants of exhaustion. he knows exactly what he's doing, and he only needs to look over the pages a few times before he arranges the whole thing like he designed it.
neighbour!miguel secretly even taking longer than necessary to set the screws just to have you look at him with such admiration. maybe you might even begin to like him the way he likes you. he has no idea the only thing you wish you could do was to kiss him and let him put his arms around you, to reward him for how good he's been to you.
neighbour!miguel whose heart races as you gently kiss his cheek as he's working, gazing into his eyes with that look he knows all too well. but eventually you grow bolder, seeing no resistance from him; only satisfaction and a hint of sugar sweet surprise.
neighbour!miguel who can't help it but drop the screws and keys to grab you as you keep teasingly kissing him all over his face; one arm secured around your back, one around your middle, finally returning the kisses he had long coveted to give you.
divider by @cafekitsune
a/n: should i continue???? will miguel break the bed he just made???? poor miguel
also im posting that back massage fic soon too i just gotta make up my mind ab a couple things💀
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A few words about Nobuaki Chiba, Kijin Clan Lieutenant because he's a fun character and I love him:
He's about six foot even and built like a fridge and has a big square jaw and a butch cut and he's kind of loud and has a little bit of a dirty mind but nonetheless gives big Just A Guy energy. Definitely intimidating if you don't know him! Kind of intimidating if you do know him! But he's Just A Guy, for the most part! He likes beer and sportsball and greasy fried shit and chilling at bars with his buds and just Being A Guy!
Generally wears charcoal gray slacks and suit jacket with a purple shirt and no tie.
Actually swore up under OG Nishitani a couple years before the old man retired but as loyal a man as Kuroshi could ever want on his team.
Always chewing on a toothpick. He says he gnaws on toothpicks because he's trying to quit smoking. He says this with both a cigarette and the toothpick in his mouth.
He and Sugihara gently roast each other all the time. They have been mistaken for a couple at least once because of it. Chiba is 100% straight but does not take offense to this.
Is constantly trying to get Aoyagi laid despite having the whole ace thing explained to him multiple times by multiple people. He means well but this ain't it chief
this never changes. Aoyagi comes back to Sotenbori for OG Nishitani's funeral in 2009 and the second the service is over Chiba bodily drags him over to the Grand because it's what the old man woulda wanted
I have not nailed his irezumi down yet but Onamazu and particularly the part where it thrashes around and causes earthquakes when left unsupervised would be an amusing hint at the Chiba we see being the older, mellower version and that he was possibly somehow even rowdier in his youth than he is now
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2009 interview with Rhys, pasted below the cut in case it's behind a paywall.
Generally when I open my mouth, people recognise my voice. I normally wear a hat and glasses, not for a disguise, just for..." Your trademark look? "Yeah! It sort of became my thing." Fame has not come easily to Rhys Darby. Indeed, the name might not even mean much to you now – but take a quick look at that picture to the right. Ring any bells? A little bit. A little bit, eh?
That line, delivered as something of a catchphrase in the 35-year-old New Zealander's distinctive, slightly nasal intonation, would surely be the giveaway to anyone who has caught his turn as the well-meaning but inept band manager Murray Hewitt on cult HBO comedy Flight of the Conchords (shown here on BBC4). But while his fellow Conchorders Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement became instantly recognisable (thanks in no small part to some prodigious facial hair), Darby left the set of the first series to go back to his first love of stand-up, performing in tiny gigs in student pubs in Wales, because "I didn't know Conchords was going to be a success. We thought it was a bit too novelty for it to be as big as it's got." How big? Big enough to catch the eye of the Hollywood director who gave Darby his first taste of the silver screen – but we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Darby's inability to predict the success of the show may well stem from a character trait he says is germane to his countrymen, of not believing in themselves ("It comes from living on a small island in the South Pacific, the furthest away from anyone, and us looking to the rest of the world rather than anyone looking in") – a trait that meant Darby had to struggle in his early years just to get up on stage. "No one in New Zealand did stand-up until 15 years ago," he reveals. "We didn't get our own purpose-built comedy club until 1996 – and we've still only got the one, in Auckland."
Indeed, the greats of New Zealand stand-up are far from household names here – and even struggled to get by on their funny bones at home. Billy T James, after whom the country's most prestigious comedy award is named, was an iconic Maori entertainer, but he had to rely on his all-round repertoire of singin', dancin' and paintin' talents to be given a much-loved TV show in the 1980s (Hang on: paintin'? "Yeah, he was a bit like Rolf Harris," explains Darby) – and his fame travelled no further than Australia. Similarly, John Clarke, whose portrayal of country farmer Fred Dagg endeared him to the nation in the early 1970s, left for Oz at the height of his fame "because New Zealand didn't really know what to do with him; we were too conservative to give him his own show".
Lacking a heritage into which he could tap, Darby helped found a stand-up scene in Christchurch while at university. "I was part of a troupe called Four Fingers Missing. We'd go to local pubs and ask if we could perform. We weren't asking for money, just a chance to try out our stuff. And the reaction back then was, 'Who do you think you are? Here we go, we've got some Billy Connollys here.' New Zealanders just didn't think we [as a people] were capable of doing anything like that. Of course, we went on stage, did our stories, some surreal stuff, some songs, and people started to say, 'Ah, you're not too bad, actually... we'll buy you a beer.'"
The scene grew to the extent that New Zealand now hosts an international comedy festival every year. "And we've got at least five or six comics now!" The global triumph of Conchords has helped in no small part. "Although we had those few home-grown comedy heroes like Billy T, it was only after crossing the border and having the rest of the world go, 'Oh my God, you guys are funny,' that New Zealand went, 'OK, we'll accept it now, maybe we can do it.'"
This shifting sense of confidence has itself proven a rich seam that Darby has mined in both his stand-up and his screen roles. His "Imagine That!" stand-up tour of last year was filled with his own tacit acknowledgement of his talents followed immediately by self-deprecation ("Thanks for the applause on the helicopter [impersonation] there. Do you need friends when you can do that...? You do. I used to do it when I was a kid and my friends just thought I was a dick,") while Conchords' Murray Hewitt is a character who "has this new-found confidence, but with all these back-of-the-head insecurities" – his heartbreaking ode to the "leggy blonde" using the office photocopier during the second series of Conchords being a case in point. His first big-screen role, as Jim Carrey's fancy-dress-obsessed boss in Yes Man was similarly endearingly nerdy.
Yet Darby has since moved on from playing hapless managers, first appearing alongside such thespians as Philip Seymour Hoffman and Kenneth Branagh in Richard Curtis's The Boat that Rocked as a DJ – "though my character was still very losery, even more of a loser, really; he's thrown off the boat" – and next year he will break the mould entirely as the lead in the romantic comedy Coming & Going, in which he plays "a hunky doctor - HA!" opposite Sasha Alexander, his Yes Man co-star. "He's definitely not a nerd," insists Darby. "But he is still zany."
Those movie roles play a large part in a short stand-up run Darby has just completed at the Bloomsbury Theatre in London and which he is now taking to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, in which he relates his journey from small-town Kiwi boy to Tinseltown leading man. "For the most part, since I've become famous – it always sounds awful when you say that – it's an adjustment, and I wanted to laugh with people about those changes. Two years ago I was performing in tiny pubs in Wales, and suddenly I get this phone call from a Hollywood director saying that Jim Carrey wants to work with me. Jim Carrey!
"After the first season of Conchords, I was really at a loss as to what to do, because I'd gone to America and thought, 'Here we go, I made the big move, I've given up the stand-up, it's going to be all acting from here,' and... nothing happened. The show hadn't gone on air yet, and there's no money doing stand-up in America unless you're a big name. Then Conchords was on HBO, word spread and it gained a big audience – including Peyton Reed [the director of Yes Man]. I was just lucky. What are the chances of your first big movie being with Jim Carrey? I'd idolised him."
Carrey himself likened the New Zealander to Peter Sellers – quite a claim. "We had some fun improvising stuff," Darby explains. "I improvised a lot more than he did – quite often because I couldn't remember the script. Half the time it's funnier than what they've written anyway. I'd look over to the writers and they'd put their thumbs up as if to say, 'That's awesome, we'll take credit for that!'"
It was less Peter Sellers than his erstwhile Pink Panther aide Cato that a frenzied Darby brought to mind in an advertisement he filmed last year with Roger Federer for Nike, playing a crazed fan who believed he was the Wimbledon champion's coach. The part, for which he leapt about the tennis star's living-room in a duel of thrumming forehands and sizzling smashes, took advantage of the physicality that has been a focal point of his comedy career. Whether it's his energetic impersonations of robots, jetpacks or dinosaurs, or bouncing around the stage to demonstrate the innate hellishness that is sitting in a stationary bumper car, Darby has been throwing himself around stages for more than a decade – and to ever-increasing crowds.
"Before I left New Zealand, I was doing more gigs than anyone in Auckland – three a week. And half the time the audience would be the same people. At the one club, it would be 60 to 100 people a night, and the other two gigs would be 20 to 30. So when I first came to Edinburgh, in 2001, in a show called The New Zealand Brat Pack – we wore suits and drank Martinis – I was blown away. This amazing city, full of entertainers, 200,000 people. I fell in love with it and vowed to come back every year no matter what."
Which he did, for five years. Now, after two years away, Edinburgh is where Darby finds himself again. And chances are, this time one or two people (let's not get over-confident; it's not the Kiwi way) might even recognise him before he starts gabbing away.
Rhys Darby is performing at Udderbelly in Edinburgh (020 7222 3311) until 15 August. The second season of 'Flight of the Conchords' is out on DVD tomorrow
Pacific punsters: Six more Kiwi acts
John Clarke
"A huge influence," says Darby. "Everyone could relate to his farmer character Fred Dagg." After moving to Australia in the 1970s, Clarke wrote satires and screenplays, including one that became the 2001 Billy Connolly vehicle The Man Who Sued God.
Billy T James
After performing with the Maori Volcanics Showband in the 1970s, James went solo in the 1980s, doing sketches and impressions and singing cabaret.
McPhail & Gadsby
"They were a duo who did political satire in the 1980s. They were very much stamped on our consciousness."
Ben Hurley
"He's come over here the past three years. He does a bit of politics, he's a bit like [the Canadian comic] Glenn Wool, a bit provocative, but not too bad." Won the Billy T award in 2004.
Sam Wills
"He's more your physical street performance-based maniacal idiocy comic. He did a show called 'The Boy with Tape on his Face'. He just had tape on his face and it was all mime. He does crazy tricks, too: he swallows swords, puts his body through a coat hanger."
Rhys Mathewson
"He's a very young comic; he's got the same first name as me, so I'm a big fan. His style is story-telling and he also has that confident-naïve guy mentality. I think he's going to make waves."
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