#David was so smug in this video

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.��� His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.5

Coke Paul is just so pretty

What is the switching glasses supposed to mean in the penny lane video? Any thoughts?

In this interview, Paul seconds John's “go on forever” comment from a few months ago. They really did so well when they were living together, didn't they?

Okay, let's look at the difference in Paul's trips. His first ever trip with Tara Browne and he's just concerned that his sleeves are dirty and just mildly looking through a book of pictures. VS with John? The “I know.” “I know.” The “emperor of the universe” thing? Raving about it to everyone who would listen? Having to leave multiple times because it was scary how tightly they were bonding?

Their songwriting partnership is beyond insane. It's superhuman, it really is. Their abilities, their connection. And Cyn and Terry just reading. Just completely nonplussed. This was very every-day, monotonous stuff for them. Unfathomable. 

That song will always get me, though. “what do I do when my love is away?” “Obviously move my best friend in to take her place and then write a timeless classic with him about how it.”

Astrid: At first I did wonder if the really cared about people's feelings and people's friendship. Maybe this doc's whole thesis is “John and Paul's love for each other was so big they didn't have room for any kind feeling toward anyone else.”

The Pepper photoshoot is insane to me. Like more insane than the David Bailey one. Change my mind. You can't.

John tells an interviewer, "Only now am I beginning to realize many of the things I should have known years ago. I'm getting to understand my own feelings." Were follow-up questions just not invented yet??!! What things have you just learned, John? What feelings?

Never forget Linda took these. She must've been somewhat aware of how annoying this man was going to be about John from the start. And she still went after him. That's how good his . . . Nevermind.

"a decisive moment in the history of Western civilization" Well done, babies. 

I love smug Paul in general, and I especially love when he's smug about John. That “me and the badass bitch I pulled by being autistic” look. But literally. 

Gosh the Greece trip looks so beautiful. Idyllic. Paradisiacal. All of the beautiful people are just so blissful and in love. Sigh. (Every time I tried to take a screenshot of it it was too awful. Peter Jackson should clean it up.)

What are everyone's thoughts about the cause of Brian's death? I really liked what Vivek Tiwary said on AKOM. He knew he was taking a dangerous amount of drugs and he was depressed. But he wouldn't have just left so suddenly without leaving a will or setting things in order for the Beatles business. Anyway, no matter the cause, his death is the beginning of the end for the Beatles.  

All those quotes and pictures about the “intensity” between Paul and Brian are fascinating. “Obviously adored” “overcompensate” “little worries” What does it all mean? Was Brian in love with Paul in the end like he had been in love with John in the beginning? Or did he just feel bad because he knew it was unfair to Paul how in love he was with John? 

Wait, Brian was hospitalized for s*icide attempts in 66? Really? Confirmed? I knew he was in the hospital, but didn't know it was due to s*icide. 

Paul's hand at the small of John's back here, helping him onto the bus. It's so tender, so customary. They took such good care of each other.

Interviewer talking about MMT: If I can't see it in color, I'm going to send it back. ... :/

They're directing something and as Paul starts to walk away, so does John. But not because he wants to. He's looking around almost frantically. He has no choice in the matter. Only one person gets to control their legs at a time, and right now it's Paul's turn. 

Look how fucking ecstatic he is. I guarantee John isn't saying anything that monumental but look at those eyes. He's done for. Gone.

Interviewer: just get a tape recorder and you and Paul and the others just start gabbing. John: well, we've got a lot of that lying around the house, actually. Me: First of all “the house?” “the house?” Just casual. Like “our house” Like it's just common knowledge that they've been married and living together since they were fifteen. Second of all, give us the tapes already!! Who has them? Paul? 

All of these quotes from the Hunter Davies biography are just so normal. They're all so normal. It's fine. I'm fine. And here's my tin hat coming on again (and yeah I believe John loved George and Ringo immensely) but I think sometimes in these quotes, when John and Cyn are saying "the Beatles" they kind of mean "Paul . . . And George and Ringo". John himself actually says as much in the seventies, that when he says "the Beatles" he might just mean Paul, or just him and Paul. And there are countless times when Paul or John will start out saying "the others" and end up using just one name in a sentence. Idk this doc makes me such a truther I swear I'm not always this crazy.

And John's self soothing, reassuring refrain playing over all of it, “nothing's gonna change my world.” Right after Paul and Jane get engaged? Someone stab me in the heart, it would hurt less. And this is just the anticipation of the next part. Can I even handle part two?

Have some happy screenshots to bolster us.

[reysdriver]

Rockstar!Sirius

headcanons of Sirius as a rockstar/musician — rockstar!sirius x fem!reader

warnings: some sexual headcanons so minors dni cus it's not for you

words: 0.4k

a/n: I will be writing more of this AU, I just realized I hadn't done anything for rockstar!sirius so I had to do some quick hcs

- The band is The Marauders of course (I've said this for every rockstar headcanon list so far lol)

- Sirius is 100% the lead singer; he loves being the center of attention and this is the best way for him to get that

- He does play some instruments like guitar or keyboards if the band needs, but his main role is vocals

- Glam rock aesthetic, like he LOVES the makeup, the jewelry, the flashy outfits, everything 

- I could see him in a classic rock 'n' roll look, but for the band's peak, he's wearing those platform boots and glittery clothes

- Remus writes most of the songs for the band, but Sirius writes some too

- And most (if not all) of the songs he writes are about you, and I'd say about half of them are sexual

- Insists that you're his 'muse', says he can't be a star without you there

- So he'll bring you on all the band's tours, and dedicates every concert to you because 'without you, I'd be nothing'

- You'll even have your own little something in the band's contracts (like your favourite candy in the dressing rooms or just anything like that) because Sirius insists you be treated like part of the band

- And speaking of 'part of the band', he takes you on shopping sprees to buy matching outfits with him so that the entire world knows who you are because he just wants to show you off in the best clothes his rockstar money can buy

- Wants you to star in the band's music videos and be on their album art

- The entire fanbase knows about you (how could they not? do you really expect Sirius to keep you a secret) and they love you 

- He will talk about you in every interview he does

- I picture him super tattooed (like he was after azkaban but like in a good way)

- Honestly just rockstar!sirius is Damiano David like literally same exact person

- If it's modern, he'll post pictures on social media like Jennifer Lopez using Ben Affleck's cropped nudes for a father's day pic

- Or like post-sex selfies like his smug face after eating you out that you equally find so embarrassing and flattering 

- And when you tell him (only partially seriously) to keep those pictures private, he just teases and says 'how else will the world know how much I love you if I don't show them?'

[ingravinoveritas]

Have you noticed it’s been radio silence from Anna lately? It’s weird that she hasn’t posted anything since Georgias post about her nail salon trip. And now with the recent photos of her and Michael on the red carpet with her trying and failing to smile only able to come out with a grimace

Hi there! I did see Georgia's Insta story about the trip to the nail salon, yes (though I thought it was interesting that Anna was so far in the background that you wouldn't know she was in the picture if Georgia hadn't tagged her).

As for the new red carpet pics, it does appear that Michael and AL are at the BAFTAs today, which you would think would be something she would post about, given that they walked the red carpet, but she hasn't yet (which is not to say that she won't post something later this evening, though).

Looking at the pictures from the red carpet (and the video, which is somehow even more cringey), I just...I'm once again at a loss...

Michael looks handsome, no question. I love that he's got on a tux for the occasion, and that we can still see the little grey curl in his hair. I also think it's interesting that Anna wore pink, which I have a feeling she did in the hope that there would be more "She's Barbie and he's just Ken" comments on social media, as there were so many of after the Pride of Britain event.

But everything else about this is so awkward that it's nearly painful to look at. I know red carpets are not always an easy thing to do, especially when you have photographers shouting at you, but Anna here looks some combination of bored and smug, and Michael looks so much like he is just trying to get through it.

What struck me in particular is his smile in the second picture, as it looks noticeably more like a grimace than anything else. He also does not seem to be smiling with his eyes in either picture, which we know is what Michael does when he is genuinely smiling. And his and AL's palpable discomfort is unfortunately made more obvious by the contrast between their pictures and the pictures of David/Georgia on the red carpet:

David and Georgia look like unit, like a couple who complement each other and fit together, to where you can see the warm energy and affection between them. And all of that is just entirely, starkly absent from the pictures of Michael and Anna. More so, even, when you consider how different his smile looks when he stops to take pictures with the fans.

Those are my thoughts on Michael and AL on the BAFTAs red carpet, at any rate. I know I could be completely off the mark, so I'm glad as always to hear from other folks in the comments. Thanks for writing in! x

[arrowfleur]

Thoughts thoughts thoughts

Sam ‘Drive-by kink shaming’ Asher is so funny 😭

Also Sam🤝Asher *laughing at their own jokes*

Those two were literally flirting the whole time likeeeee

“Who you calling an underdog pup? ”

I knowwww Babe was giving him side eye

That’s their nick name (for Ash) and their nick name only

Also Sam said ‘My Darlin’ and that’s soooo cute

Sweetheart scaring Milo no matter time or place,, I know that man is living in a state of fear

BAAAAABE winning fuck yeah

David trying to teach Angel how to play,,, and not succeeding, BUT! He’s so soft with them ahhhhh

Sam thinking the remote was dead and saying “that little turnip” he’s such a DILF. (Fred and Bright are his children you didn’t hear this from me)

Also David helping him turn it on and CONSTANTLY reiterating how well he fits in

I loved those two During the inversion and I’m so glad we got to see that duo again with happier circumstances

Darlin killing Sam off without hesitation pffffffffffftt

‘MILE LOW’ is definitely my favourite name

I feel like none of them asked what ‘make it two’ meant because Asher is a gossip girl and probably told them all in a group chat

Angel immediately picking Sam 💀

Samuel Collins you are, the weakest link

“Oh so I’m a flop now”

Milo thinking Sam was actually offended and stuttering STUTTERING

“You gon get a pink tracksuit like that Milo?”

“I should i’d look fucking great in it”

YES YOU WOULD, YES YOU WOULDDDD.

Milo refusing to get the smash ball

He’s SO SMUG

In a good way

“Cmon buddy what map do you want?”

All: “FINAL DESTINATION”

Why does Milo react to sweetheart getting hit like it’s an actual fight 😭 he’s so funny

Oop and they’re making out again

It’s basically a 40 minute video of Milo and Sweetheart being horny

And then Ash being horny

Sam being confused as fuck

And David being DONE

Why do I get the feeling that Sam looks away ‘out of respect’ when Angel and David are kissing

OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT HIM BEING SO HAPPY THAT HE ACTUALLY GOT DAVID OUT OF THE FIRST GAME

he’s such a fan girl

Just the entirety of thee ‘nut-sack brain’ discussion

Once again Milo saying ‘owww’ like it actually hurt him?!?!

Personally Sweetheart is my winner 😌

‘You just inspecting their tonsils?’

PLEASE MY MAN IS A COMEDIAN 🙏

and finally Ash singing and David telling him to stop

And then Ash kissing David and him saying ‘get off me’

Is such a mirror to that first Halloween episode

The more things change the more they stay the same I suppose

[springtrappd]

the fnaf movie cast & crew on matthew lillard's performance:

OFFICIAL CHARACTER DESCRIPTION FOR STEVE RAGLAN:

A smug career counselor charged with helping Mike find a job, Steve Raglan has zero sympathy for the burdens of the unemployed. Played by horror legend Matthew Lillard, star of the original Scream, Steve seems to take a perverse pleasure in forcing a desperate person, like Mike, into a situation that’s less than ideal. It’s Steve who suggests the night guard job at Freddy’s to Mike, and who then bides his time, like a spider, until Mike reluctantly agrees to take it.

TAMMI & SCOTT IN ‘UNIVERSAL PICTURES PUBLICITY: FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S PRODUCTION INFORMATION APPROVED’:

“Matthew Lillard was terrific,” game creator and film producer Scott Cawthon says. “There was a long list of people we were looking at for this role. I was leaning toward Lillard early-on because I had great memories of seeing Scream in the theaters like twenty times with my roommates in college, but when a close friend of mine told me what a great guy he was in real life and how he took such good care of his fans at conventions, I knew he was the right person for the job. I told Matthew on the phone during our very first conversation that after the movie comes out, no one will even be able to imagine anyone else for the role, and I stand by that.” Landing the actor was a coup, says director Emma Tammi. “Getting Matthew on board was just incredible,” Tammi says. “He brought so much zaniness and electricity into the mix, and he had such attention to what Five Nights fans would want to see.”

'MATTHEW LILLARD ON "HUMBLING AND EXCITING" FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S' SUCCESS AND CREATING AUTHENTIC EXPERIENCES FOR FANS' (in The Hollywood Reporter):

CULLINS: For people who are not familiar with the game, how would you describe your character? LILLARD: I play a character that is living in plain sight in the world, and he is a horrible monster. Toward the end of the film, when my daughter can’t handle a situation, I have to step in and take over. I do not accomplish that goal and end up meeting my demise. It’s the first step in a journey that has this rich canon that spans multiple video games. I play a monster who, at the end of the day, gets his comeuppance and is thrown into this horror realm that he created. The hard part about playing this part is the pressure I put on myself to honor the fans, to deliver a great performance in an iconic role. There are millions of kids worldwide, and people that started playing as kids and are now adults, that have an expectation that this film will deliver on a really great level. So, being this iconic bad guy, the amount of pressure I put on myself to not suck is pretty extraordinary. That’s the hardest part.

TAMMI IN 'FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S FILMMAKER EMMA TAMMI TALKS THE "LOOSE ENDS" TO TACKLE IN A SEQUEL' (for The Hollywood Reporter):

DAVIDS: Before and after the reveal, I did catch some Stu Macher/Scream vibes from Matthew. I recognized that familiar live wire that he plays so well. Did you encourage that? Or did he just know instinctively that this guy warranted a bit of the same crazed energy that Stu had? TAMMI: Gosh, it feels like catching lightning in a bottle with Matthew because he just brings so much to the set and in the moment. And on that day in particular, we were just trying a bunch of different things for a bunch of different takes, and he was really coming alive in that [Yellow Rabbit] suit for the first time. Of course, we’d done some rehearsals with that suit, but it was a whole other deal once the camera was actually rolling in the properly lit pizzeria. So he was just going for it on every take and doing something different and really exploring in the moment. We just needed to make sure that we were there to capture it all. So, yes, there was definitely a back and forth between the two of us in terms of trying different things and really maximizing his menacing movement in that suit. But at the end of the day, he was just bringing all of his brilliance and improvisation to the table, and we were so lucky to be rolling on it.

LILLARD IN 'FNAF: FROM GAME TO BIG SCREEN' (DVD Bonus Content, via YouTube):

I've been really jonesing, like really coveting an opportunity to get a chance to get back into the horror genre. Getting a chance to work with Emma has been lovely. I literally, when I'm in that costume I'm blind, and so I rely on her like very few performances I've ever had in my life, to help me... sorta craft this character on the fly, physically in how we're telling the story and where we're at in the lore, and how that applies to-- y'know, all of the information that's out there and available, it all comes through her [Emma Tammi] and she fills us with what we need.

BONUS: the official guidelines for Raglan's facial hair, courtesy of Makeup Department Head Ashley Levy (via Instagram); "Also included: proof we take our facial hair design *very* seriously around here."

[siryouarebeingmocked]

SYABM comic 65 “What A Load”

[ Older comics | Chronological order | Subreddit ]

Class, I want you to pay attention to David Hogg’s little rhetorical trick here. Somehow magazine capacities that have been standard for literally decades are "high capacity" when gun controllers talk about them.

Also, "high" implies "excess". As if there's some more reasonable, smaller number that they would have no problem with.

And, of course, most gun crime is already with illegally owned weapons. Limits on magazine sizes would mostly affect law abiding citizens.

Some of the gun controllers have culturally appropriated common fudd arguments. Specifically, the claim that if you need more than X shots, you're screwed anyway. Which sounds very smug, but doesn't actually prove anything.

In reality, the most highly trained cops, soldiers, and civilians still miss under pressure. Because of human physiology and adrenaline. Sometimes there are multiple attackers, and you might not have time to reload.

 You might not even have a second mag. 

Davey boy also thinks that it only takes one shot per assailant to drop them. You'd think an FBI agent's son would have seen at least one of those videos where people eat entire magdumps without going down. Or heard about those incidents.

This whole argument is a classic example of gun controllers who want to punish millions of innocent people to try and stop the guilty.

Transcript:

Shot of soapbox.

Shot of someone stepping on to soapbox

David Hogg, Anti-Gun “Activist”: We need to ban high capacity magazines now! If you run out of ammo, you can just reload!

Generic person: So low magazine capacity will barely slow anyone down? Hogg: Yes!

Hogg: [angry] ...Wait…no…[censored]!

[vidreview]

VIDREV: "NO CGI is really just INVISIBLE CGI" by The Movie Rabbit Hole

[originally posted march 19th 2024]

like a lot of folks, i've grown weary of the preponderance of CGI in Hollywood flicks these days. it's all but a cultural tradition at this point to watch John Carpenter's The Thing, sigh wistfully at the goopy silicone animatronics, and say "man, you couldn't make anything like this today." the Marvel/Disney machine has done a lot of heavy lifting to engender this perspective, particularly in the cape department where every aspect of the film is under intense and non-negotiable executive revision until quite literally days before theatrical release (as was the case with Marvel's The Marvels). it doesn't help that this shift has a lot less to do with what's best for any given movie, and a hell of a lot more to do with the lack of unionization in the visual effects industries making them a readily exploitable source of labor. in such an environment, films that nevertheless lean on practical effects are enticing (and, quite often, demonstrably better) enough that we'll sing their praises to the point of hyperbole.

enter Jonas of The Movie Rabbit Hole, here with a genuinely essential series of video essays to slap some sense into that hyperbole and bring us all back down to earth.

one of the more important directors for the development of unobtrusive CGI is David Fincher. i have my fair share of issues with his films, but credit where it's due: they're constantly pushing technology in ways that you absolutely would not expect. there's a crane shot at the start of The Social Network that couldn't be shot with a crane for safety reasons, so instead it was stitched together in post from footage taken on multiple 4K cameras at once. a shocking majority of the blood you'll see in his movies is CGI. the praise i've portioned for his recent films, even as i find him sort of a fundamentally anti-human director, is that he understands that visual effects work best as a supplement to existing footage, rather than a pure replacement.

i share all this to underline my use of the word "essential" in describing this series. i worked in film for a few years, i went to film school, i try to understand the production process as pragmatically as possible. i am under no illusions that Christopher Nolan flicks or the John Wick movies are totally practical. i'm not an anti-CGI evangelist! and yet, even then, i had NO idea just how wrongheaded i still was on the subject until i watched these videos.

Jonas brings 18 years of visual effects experience to bear on a series that feels very much like him trying to settle an argument he's been having for about as long. he has countless examples of films praised for their lack of CGI that relied heavily on their CGI, using the demo reels of effects houses as the smoking gun. Jonas speaks with a plain matter-of-fact-ness that's bolstered just so by an edge of smug frustration, the kind you only get after bearing a cross for years. but it's not just an "i'm right, you're wrong" affair by any stretch. Jonas does a fantastic job communicating a lot of complicated subjects in ways that are friendly to even the most casual of viewers, rarely blaming the audience for their ignorance when studios and market trends are the real culprit. and because he's a veteran of the industry, he's able to interview prominent figures that would otherwise be inaccessible for the average essayist, like Academy Award winning VFX supervisor Paul Franklin.

(and here we come up against a question countenanced more than once on this blog-- where is the line between video essay and documentary? i think this readily qualifies as the former given the first-person direct address shot-in-his-living-room style, yet somehow i feel a bit uneasy with the classification. oh well, a topic for another day)

the most eye-opening section for me is also one of the first, where Jonas confronts the public image of Top Gun: Maverick. i haven't seen this film yet, but i have seen the endless and unqualified buzz about its practical effects. and to be sure, these deserve quite a lot of praise-- they put real actors in real fighter jets for crying out loud! yet in all that crowing, a very important fact totally fell by the wayside: nary a single shot in the film is without digital manipulation. and not just in the basic touch-up sense, removing safety anachronisms and the like. the jets, the cockpits, and the actors themselves were all extensively replaced with digital doubles! i felt like an utter fool when he pointed out that quite often films praised for their lack of CGI will have more VFX artists credited than any other department in production. like, holy shit, it's all right there on the screen? what job were those hundreds of people doing if it was "all practical effects"?

which is the crux of the series' title: "NO CGI is really just INVISIBLE CGI." we have --or perhaps it'd be more honest to say i have-- a tendency to address CGI in binaristic terms. either it's there, or it's not there, right? Fincher's team can put digital blood running down Daniel Craig's face in the shower after he gets shot in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but it's Craig's physical presence that sells it. a film like Top Gun: Maverick makes its bones marketing the spectacle, and because there's such fatigue with CGI-heavy blockbusters any mention of intermediary visual effects carries with it a stain on the authenticity. but really, it does nothing to diminish the practical nature of the photography to also acknowledge how much of what makes it to cinemas is, essentially, an extremely realistic cartoon.

and this is what Jonas's series really exposes for me. a lot of what we're looking at here is rotoscoping, the longstanding tradition of animating over top of live footage a la Disney's Snow White in 1937, though the technique was truly mastered by Max Fleischer in the 1910s. is there some gradeschool nag whispering in the back of our head that a rotoscope is just elaborate tracing? that it's a cheat, because "real" animation is done without reference? (for anyone who has actually worked in animation, this is your cue to laugh derisively)

but the truth is that you do not get one without the other. it takes a lot of planning to film a scene with an eye towards being reanimated, just as it takes tremendous skill to make that animation look good. if Top Gun: Maverick feels viscerally real, it is because the visual effects artists had a real reference to work from. one is not inherently better than the other, more pure or authentic. this isn't the 80s anymore, man. i mean, to get real fucking technical, the instant we stopped shooting on film was the death of "true practicality" in cinema, because a digital sensor must by its nature interpret visual information as raw data and then translate it to something we'd recognize as an image. celluloid film is purely optical, but a digital sensor requires someone (or a team of someones) to write an algorithm to do that interpreting-- which is, inherently, subjective. different cameras have different image processing algorithms, different bitrates and dynamic ranges, to say nothing of custom LUTs and the extensive post-processing required to make RAW footage not look like complete ass. and even now, celluloid cannot be said to be truly pure, because any film shot on celluloid is then digitally scanned, subjected to the exact same post production processing as any other digital film, the final product re-scanned to celluloid to give it a true filmic look, and then yet again digitized for wide distribution (because most cinemas today only have digital projectors).

this is not A Bad Thing! it is simply the material reality of film production in the 21st century. it has many upstream and downstream effects, of course, many of which have negatively impacted the quality of films and television in various ways-- but these are not qualities inherent to digital technology! rather, they are the result of a profit-seeking industry eager to cut corners wherever possible. the existence of CGI is not to blame for the bad CGI in Marvel movies, it's the greedy executives exploiting non unionized labor, forcing crunch at every level with no regard for the human cost, endlessly meddling in the production with their indecisive market-analysis driven brand alterations. ah, the age of the executive auteur, when at last the soulless corporate mindset once commonly decried by artists and audiences alike has been fully naturalized and even embraced by people who call themselves fans, who would sooner throw a director under the bus than say a bad word about Kevin fucking Feige.

it's a pathetic state of affairs, and it can only be called a brilliant act of marketing that CGI burnout in the public has been leveraged to only further erase the essential labor of visual effects artists. Jonas here even points out, much to my slack-jawed amazement, that promotional behind the scenes footage today frequently removes green screens and other indicators of a digital-forward production as a way of unduly acquiring practical effects credibility. as someone who watches a lot of these BTS features, i feel lied to and manipulated, and ashamed of myself for not realizing that making-ofs are just as much marketing as they are educational, often moreso by a lot. it's all just an illusion! and it cannot be repeated often enough that this is an erasure of a historically under-unionized industry, one whose exploitation has been thoroughly documented for years. that this erasure is occurring at a moment when finally, finally, finally corners of the visual effects world have begun to shed the libertarian values inherited from the tech industry and actually unionize is pretty fucking conspicuous to say the least.

i call these videos essential because they reveal a tremendous blind spot in our media literacy, even among those like myself who've studied media extensively. we are, generally, pretty good at identifying the weaknesses in a finished film, but our lack of experience and our credulity towards marketing that doesn't feel like marketing leads us to utterly fail when we attempt to diagnose their cause. when our analysis lacks an understanding of the material conditions of production, as informed by firsthand accounts of those who actually do the work, we cannot help but embarrass ourselves and in so doing blatantly misinform our audiences.

it didn't used to be like this. i remember the late 90s and early aughts, when joints like ILM were praised for their innovations. how often do you hear about VFX houses today? probably only when they go bankrupt. it's such a shame, because what Jonas does in these videos most of all is reveal just how astonishing the work of visual effects artists actually is. these are the perils of an industry whose job is to be invisible, which is why it's so important that their labor be made visible after the fact, celebrated rather than papered over, analyzed extensively rather than mentioned offhand. the truth is that quite a lot of us have been boldly, profoundly wrong about CGI in movies for a long time, and we're well past due for a correction of the record.

all of which is to say that these are some really great videos and you should absolutely go watch them right now

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: episode 4 came out and it's also great.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

My whole renewed dive into trying to save all the John Oliver files I can get my hands on, which within a week escalated to me buying a new 1TB hard drive just to see how big a John Oliver folder I can make, started when it was noticed that this video was taken off YouTube:

I was glad I’d saved a copy of it, because I don’t trust anything to stay anywhere on the internet, if there’s something I like I immediately put it on my hard drive so it can’t disappear. I'm making this post mainly for anyone else who might not have saved this before YouTube took it down, here's where you can download it. Because no one should be denied the really fucking weird 25 minutes with baby comedians from 1997.

A few years ago I read this quote from Richard Ayoade, which I annoyingly can't find now, where he said he doesn't like this documentary, that they were just students and obviously didn't know what they were doing and some film people came in and said they wouldn't look bad in it but of course they do look bad. It was something like that, I can't find the exact quote. But I remember finding it odd, because surely no one is judging these people's actual comedic skill based on a few clips from a 25-minute video of when they were students. People just share it because it's funny to adorable little baby versions of the comedians who are famous now. Obviously they weren't doing high-quality comedy, they were like 19, no one cares.

Since then, I have learned that this is not quite true, and Richard Ayoade did, in fact, have reason to object to his weird student sketches being out there. Because apparently, some people are judging their comedic skill based on the time in 1997 when he and John Oliver did a weird sketch on a fence. My deep rabbit hole dives of about 18 months ago led me through a lot of old comedy message board threads, including one from 2006 of people absolutely ripping that video apart as a sign that comedy is well past its peak and this newfangled crop of comedians are all shit and the once-great institution of Cambridge Footlights has fallen. By 2006.

I normally don't link to things things directly from a message board on here, seems too close to that horrible thing where you take screenshots from one social media and post it on a different social media to make fun of it (so instead, I just occasionally see something I disagree with on a message board, and then write a post on here refuting it without posting the original context, to people who don't know what I'm talking about), but it feels more acceptable if it was from 2006, I think. It's not like the person who posted that in 2006 is likely to still be hanging around Britcom social media seeing who's quoting them. So I think... I think I need to quote just a little bit of it, because there was this one really long aggressive rant from this one 2006 post that was the funniest fucking thing (I won't like but it's not hard to find on Google):

I mean, I can't really communicate how bad it was, to be honest. But it was just the fact that you saw the two cunts writing the thing, sitting in a daylight-filled bar, giggling into their lager. You got the picture? Ugh. And John Oliver, who is the spitting image of David Baddiel (intentionally of course), is there with his pencil and notepad suggesting the lines with a grandiose smugness that made me really ill, and his mate (the blandest man ever) is there, with his jumper and his shoes, salivating over the comic genius he sees before him. Cunt, cunt, CUNT! They also have three girl-ones with them, all of whom have no talent whatsoever. You see one of them auditioning, where she has to do some improv, and she's shit... but the president (who looks like a fifteen year-old John Lloyd) can be heard wheezily guffawing at everything she says. And this serves only to make her improv even worse. And John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair.

That is, in case anyone's wondering, why my current Tumblr bio ends with the line: "John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair." It's a quote from a guy in 2006 who was really really mad about a 25-minute Footlights documentary.

So I would like to state, for the record, that by sharing this video, I am not endorsing the actual quality of the comedy in the few little sketches we see. I am also not endorsing the class system, the hold that a few elite institutions have over entire industries, Richard Ayoade's views on transgender people, or trivia in pubs. I just think they're adorable baby comedians as well as an interesting snapshot of comedy history. I'm pretty sure that's all it's supposed to be.

I am also not endorsing the class-based dominance of elite institutions when I say I still want that sitcom between two student comedians, Kim Tey and Wark Atson, who have to band together to get through their year-long university comedy play while hiding from everyone but each other their respective secrets of not really being a student there, and not really being Welsh. Madcap farcical hi-jinks ensue. People would watch it. I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions but I do quite enjoy Footlights stories, so I'm glad they made a really weird documentary with some of them. Also when I go to the UK this summer I've booked off one entire day to take the train to Cambridge and run around feeling like I'm in Harry Potter (Disclaimer: I also do not endorse JK Rowling's views on trans people, or at this point, on most things. Why can't we have nice things?).

I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions, but also,

And that probably the only time you'll hear someone compare John Oliver to John Robins (very different comedians, really), especially on a post that started out just being a way to share a video that's been taken off YouTube. Download the Google Drive link if you want to keep it, everyone. That was supposed to be the point of this post. It's a good video. It features Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness and either that woman from Peep Show or her sister, I get them mixed up. And also it features John Oliver with, to be fair for one moment to that guy in 2006, quite Baddiel-like hair.

[romirola]

for the WIP game, lets seeee… can you tell us what inspired you most during the writing process, like maybe a certain song or Redacted video?

by the way I’ve got to tell you how much I admire you conviction I deeply envy your ability to have one WIP and fuckin knock that shit out the park my undiagnosed ADHD could literally not fathom it you beautiful mythical creature

-Lexi Sun ☀️

From this ask game!

@weightedblanketjoyfriend, thank you so much for this ask! It's always a joy to talk about fics, and to talk about the process of a fic!? You spoil me!! (And that's why you get a few short snippets!) Thank you for those kind words, but honestly, forcing myself to work on one WIP is less about conviction and more about my own sanity. It's too hard for me to keep all the plots in my head. I just gotta get my head down and focus on the one, or else I'll feel too pressured to make progress on everything and make progress on nothing, not to mention suck all the fun out of something I find to be so, so enjoyable. Onto my writing process for Balancing Act:

Most of my fics start with a bit of dialogue that I hear inside my head and really, really like. So much so, that I get obsessed with it. From there, I start to construct the immediate scene/context of that dialogue. Who said it? Why? To whom? What's happening to prompt that speech/situation? (Fun fact, I can point out the "starter" dialogue snippet of every fic I have written, because it just turns over and over and over again in my head before I even start drafting.) In the case of Balancing Act, the starter bit of dialogue was:

“It… It hurts!” they half-cried, half growled. Sharp teeth pushed up from out of their gums, shooting lightning bolts through their jowls. Angel sputtered and choked, overwhelmed with the onslaught of stretching and expanding every part of their body somehow experienced all at once. “Hurts bad… Make it stop! Please, I can’t…” They wrestled out of David’s arms, rolling over to the other corner of the bed. They teetered near the edge before toppling onto the ground in a wriggling heap. “Ahh!” David vaulted after them. “Angel!” He quickly ran to his whimpering mate. When David stepped to the side to reach Angel on the floor, he gasped sharply.  An enormous black wolf lay sprawled out on the ground, awkwardly trying to balance on massive paws and twisting their sleek head in every direction to get a good look at their furry, beastly body.

Yeah, 9.9/10 times, my starter dialogue is hurt/comfort... Very predictable Romi behavior right there...

Eventually, a story starts to form around the moment, and I follow that story backwards and forewords. If I'm lucky, more "starter moments" form in my head and the connections between moments becomes clearer. For example, once I realized Angel struggled with a spontaneous shift, and that their instinctual confusion with experiencing the process would probably lead to the shift causing them immense pain, I also realized I'd love to see Angel thrive as alpha, which led to me to hear this little bit of dialogue:

Janelle’s smug grin faltered. She flinched away from Angel, her pegasus suddenly wanting to flee from the predator before her. “I…” “And say that breach happened in front of an unempowered human who decided to go hunting shifters for sport, trying to bring home a mythical pelt, thinking they’re going to be the one to show the world Bigfoot exists,” Angel pressed. “What then, if shifters were compromised? If bounties were put out on our heads by unempowered people who see shifters as animals? If shifters were hunted for sport, maybe legally, if the unempowered government were afraid of the half-monster things they'd fear you to be? Or, maybe instead, you want shifters all to be rounded up and caged like animals by some amatuer-wanna-biologists? Is that how you want to live? Trapped? Experimented on? Always tranqued out your mind? Kept as someone’s pet, with an electric collar to keep you on your best behavior?”  Angel felt the wolf within howl and groan at the mere thought of the pack being subjected to such cruelty. <em>Pack. Protect. Threat. Shift. Shift now. Attack.</em> Their need to take down the pegasus and punish her for her insubordination was growing into a painful ache. How dare this woman be so cavalier about covert? Didn’t she understand the stakes? Didn’t she realize how brutally and power-hungry the unempowered part of society could be?  Angel did.

Or sometimes, the moments are totally unrelated! And that's a fun part of the process, too, because it means I have to get creative to see how the moments lead into each other. For example one has nothing to do with alpha!Angel, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I figured out how to include it:

“Watch yourself,” Sweetheart warned though their yawn undercut the normal edge with which they spoke. “Because that cute little girl is going to grow up to be the strongest stealth anyone has ever seen.” They held out a threatening finger. “And if anyone tries to deter her from that path in any way, shape, or form, I'll rip their guts with my bare hands and cloak the evidence before they even knew they were missing organs.” Milo shuddered at the graphic imagery Sweetheart used. “Okay, okay.” He wiggled Sweetheart over so that they were tucked in close to his body, turned inward so that their head could rest on his chest. “I think someone is up way past their bedtime, and their exhaustion is once again making them a little bit too vengeful for their own good.” He brushed a hand across Sweetheart’s forehead, letting his fingers linger on their temple until Sweetheart's blinks began to slow. “You are so hot when you're violent,” he whispered softly enough so that only Sweetheart would hear. “I love you.” 

It's the *moments*, Lexi! For me, the *moments* make the process. I am not one to draw inspiration from songs, though if there are any songs that you felt resonated with the fic, I would be very excited to hear your thoughts!

This was a long-winded answer to your question, so thank you for indulging me.

[slickbackdani]

You know, it sucks that the term “fake geek” is only ever used as a misogynistic slur against women in fandom spaces, created to feed the paranoid insecurities and victim complexes of socially stunted white men by fostering the idea that women are only pretending to share your interests to lead you on.

In my opinion, the “fake geek” label would be more accurately used against alt-righters who pretend to be part of certain fandoms just so they can create outrage and indoctrinate white male nerds into fighting their culture wars for them.

For example, I remember some time ago I said that the dude-bro hate campaign against the female-led Ghostbusters reboot was waged mostly by people who never really gave a fuck about Ghostbusters and just wanted an excuse to attack women. The same is true, I think, of other “white male nerd temper tantrums” of late.

The Star Wars sequels met with a years-long backlash of male nerds obnoxiously whining about how the new movies’ diversity was ruining the franchise they grew up with when the sequels really weren’t that much more diverse than the movies that came before, and whatever problems the sequels may have had are barely different from problems people have had with previous Star Wars installments. Of note is all the so-called fans calling Rey a Mary Sue whose existence goes against everything the franchise has been known for when she really doesn’t do anything Luke wasn’t capable of in the old movies. If I were a smug contrarian dickhead, I’d use this to assert that Luke was always a terrible character that the fans only like because of nostalgia, but since I still love the old Star Wars films and have mixed feelings about the newer ones, I think it’s more reasonable to conclude that neither character is perfect or irredeemable and the more rabid detractors only hate Rey because she has a vagina.

The insincerity behind these outrage-addicted fandom shit-stirrers only gets more transparent when the topic shifts to superhero movies and you have these self-proclaimed comic book diehards displaying a stunning ignorance of the subject they claim is so near and dear to them. Female-led superhero flicks are decried as products of modern “wokeness” and “political correctness gone mad” when the characters they’re decrying have been a huge part of the original comics for decades. The existence of the She-Hulk series prompted a tidal wave of fanboy outrage, whining that Marvel has “gone woke” and at one point saying that Stan Lee would be rolling in his grave… you know, the same Stan Lee who created She-Hulk back in the 70s! You’d think hardcore comic fans would know that Shulkie has been a major player in Marvel Comics for almost 50 years before finally getting any kind of significant outside exposure. Those who are really committed to the act will say that She-Hulk’s MCU counterpart is nothing like the original comics, but all the things they hate about her are also true of her comic counterpart.

It doesn’t get any better on DC’s side, as there were many fanboys who celebrated David Zaslav’s decision to cancel the Batgirl movie, saying that a female reboot of Batman would be an affront to comic fans everywhere… except anyone with even a passing familiarity with DC would know Batgirl was never “a female reboot of Batman”, but his sidekick and protege, a member of his extended family, and has been since she was created in the 1960s! I’m tempted to say “they would know that if they were REAL comic fans,” but Batgirl has appeared so many times in TV, movies, and video games that even people who have never picked up a comic book in their lives would be bound to know about her! Fucking hell, they can’t even claim their judgments are based on the leaked details about the movie-that-never-was, because even those scant details clearly explained that Batman still exists as a separate character in the movie’s continuity and they never intended to just retcon him into being a woman!

I think my point can best be summed up by taking a look at the alt-right sources that promoted GamerGate back in the day: a number of far-right people and websites had rallied male gamers into attacking feminists they accused of trying to destroy video games, all the while promising up and down that they would defend gamers with their very lives if male nerds just gave them power. Fast forward about half a decade later, and now those same far-right people and websites are saying that people who play video games are stupid filthy degenerates who are holding us back as a species — all the while more mainstream right-wing sources continue to repeat the age-old “video games cause mass shootings” myth. This proves, if nothing else, that GamerGate was never really about video games. It was about women having opinions and men not liking that.

[incarnateirony]

Thank you for sharing all these articles and opinions about the wga SAG aftra strike.

Do you think the studios will keep refusing any kind of negotiation till October? I feel like this is really a suicide, but they seem so sure they're gonna win. Do they know something we ignore or they're just too arrogant?

Hm, why is Brad Pitt better than Gaiman? I thought Gaiman was on strike too. Maybe I missed something

Re: Studios

Right now, they're counting on fans listening to their Studio Teachers Pets to not cut the cord. Zaslav has bragged people will stay subscribed because of their giant content libraries, for example. Amazon has Gaiman doing cartwheels promoting his stuff for Amazon, even if he can weakly peep, I did it of my own will! Meanwhile, Witcher writers are being held over the fire for doing it once, because it breaks the image of solidarity. As per the articles of people doing things pissing off others like Silverman by scabbing without ~technically scabbing and so on, the studios are sitting smug going "eh, we'll get 'indie's. We'll get money from subscribers watching our old stuff. We'll get international films" until people stop making use of the loopholes for personal gain on things the unions can not ~force or even ~gives permission to do. But then you have those that ARE shutting down even WITH permissions and excuses. Because what's right is fucking right.

Brad Pitt was under scrutiny until lately for continuing to film something overseas, which appeared to lack solidarity, but he just shut his shit down. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here heartbroken, and realizing, everything I ever believed about Gaiman was a lie. He was formerly one of my favorites. He is rapidly propelling himself towards being one of the most vile ~technical not a scabbers I can see that I will never allow myself to support again, while monkey training fans who aren't willing to think deeply.

This right here: I'm going to remove who made the statement, and paste David Zaslav over, so you can see how it looks when it's Not An Author Of A Favorite Blorbo

DAVID ZASLAV, MAYBE??? (in this thought exercise)

Pretend Iger or Zaslav said that. A person who is naturally in solidarity will just say, "Yes, it will impact us, even if we have different guilds, we stand in solidarity and will not continue production". It is very, very fuckin weird corporate speak to go, Well, WGA and SAG are striking against my show carrier, so We Can Not Use People From Those Unions. That's. That's big ick. Put the picture of a CEO you know is a dickbag next to it and read it again. That doesn't even say we don't intend to continue. Just who can't be involved. Similarly, he has used phrases like "As part of WGA, I Have To Strike", not want to. Scroll his wall. Where's his real big support?

Things I see: Watch my show, watch my show, tell people to watch my show (advertise for me), I Wish My Distributor Would Comply, Me, Me Me Me, Me.

And then a friend of mine that worked in comics shattered my heart worse. They were basically like, yeah, duh, he's from the comic book space since the 80s. They're non-union and even anti union. Not everyone in unions like even being in the union. Comics are a very Every Man For Himself environment and toxic as fuck about competition. He does not know how to be a meaningful contributor to a union.

So then I sat there, with my heart in pieces in my hands, and went to unlist my Good Omens videos, because I can't bring myself to look at it again. Other podcasters are closing up shop for the same reason. Any influencer that's even not union yet, caught advertising for studios whether paid or ORGANIC EVEN, can be blocked from SAG entry in the future, and some producers like the one in question is fine with bright eyed fans of themselves unwittingly crushing their dreams for their own gain. People even with union waivers to work a job are going, no this is wrong. No, I pass. No, don't do this, we're in this together, everyone takes hits.

Again I point to Witcher fandom. The guy was like well it ~TECHNICALLY didn't break the rules but I see how it breaks Image Of Solidarity so I'll delete my tweets about it. Then on tumblr side you get the little content addict goblins trying to crush out anyone that IS making the personal decision to restrain or cut cords because, frankly, Neil is being loud as shit.

Meanwhile SAG or WGA members are deadass like. Can someone explain to me how this shit isn't scabbing? (Not Neil, specifically, but the image of it) Like, tell me, please, actors and producers beg, how is this not scabbing, while we're all making sacrifices.

The reason studios are smug is because they know. They know it is human nature to climb over people, to find workarounds, to try to place themselves first, and that they can starve the guild until people start causing dissent by acting like this. People afraid of losing their cuts. People afraid of losing rank in the market and, while retweeting YEE GUILD stuff, still maneuvering to try to put themselves above the others sweating with them in a market that's about to crunch and restrict job availability, still posing themselves forward individually while citing Thin Lines. You know what I think of when I hear about Thin Lines? Blue ones.

Meanwhile creators of other shows like say, Gotham Knights, just deadass stopped tweeting about their shit, even things Not Directed By Studio. Because it's fucking selfish, and looks bad, and many have narrowed it down to "THANKS FOR THE FANART" or "<3333 thanks" to fans, not HEY, TUNE IN AT 8/7 CENTRAL AND ADVERTISE MY SHIT LOL "THIN LINE"

There are things they can not enforce in text while being fair (or in cases like secondary boycott damages, announce/enforce at all as anything more than a suicide bomb last ditch effort when they're willing to dead stop to the cascading legal battles). And there are people that cartwheel past and through those like greased pigs going WELL TECHNICALLY. There are those that make mistakes and go "shit sorry didn't mean to look like that I'll delete". There are those apologizing for not talking to fans about their work more. And then there's the motherfuckers broadcasting how to watch and the technicalities their production could be uninterrupted under.

Ever notice Neil doesn't say "we?" it's not "we're in this together." "We decided," it's not We. He, who "has" to strike, and is relentlessly advertising his shit and just saying, well we just cant use WGA/SAG people, addresses it as a detached thing: The WGA has said. The WGA's intent. The WGA, some distant other party he seems to feel unfortunate as an IP owner to be part of, someone who makes infinitely more money than your average working class writer or actor. Pay the fuck attention to who is going "JUSTICE FOR ME BUT NOT FOR THEE" or worse, just talks about the strike like a sidebar inconvenience fans can just hope stops messing up their shows, rather than centering the lives of creatives being fucked up.

Gaiman is worth over 18 million. He is not one of these little barely paid people struggling. And he is increasingly proving, not only does he not give a shit, he at best is treating it like an inconvenience and encouraging fans to focus on and support his product, and thus the studios, rather than centering the dialogue on the strike and the suffering workers like everybody else is. Even when his actions don't blatantly betray him, his verbage does. This is why it's never "we", but "the WGA", as a different, detached body, and not being able to use WGA/SAG people. Like, ah, I see, you're only union because it's mandatory to join the union in the US, and you didn't want locked out of the US scene, but the union itself is a fucking inconvenience to you. This is the opposite of Neat.

[inkyquince]

thank you for sharing your sckrunglies with me

first off, god you are So based for liking Ivan/Baby, he was my first and i miss him every single day. Ivan bby please lock me up again i promise ill fix you this time

LOVE that your Baaaaabe is on the colder side, most of the listeners i see for asher are bubbly to match him but ive always liked more of an opposites attract dynamic for him

god and i have such a soft spot for Blake. love a bestie thats just a Mess

smooching your darling softly on the forehead cuz i think he needs it

obsessed with your freelancer because those were Very much my feelings towards Gavin as well. did Not like how smug he was at first but then get grew on me like mold and i Refuse to take anything to get rid of him. my lil infection <3

also smooching your love gently on the forehead cuz i Know it needs it

also have a Very big soft spot in my heart for Avior and Starlight. love them both so dearly. my skrunglies <3

in summary holding all of the RA characters and smooching them and holding all of your listeners and smooching them gently aaaaaaaaaaa i love RA so much you have no idea

i was this close to being out of this hyperfixation as well, and now youve dragged me kicking and screaming back into it. have to catch back up on the videos now, no idea how Erik manages his upload schedule with everything else that he does

RA Anon

IM GLAD YOU LIKE THEM!!! like smartass and pet are done in my head but i haven't made their picrew, even though i FUCKING LOVE SMARTASS, their relationship with Aaron slaps.

Ivan is godtier. I love him in flyboi and i love him in his crazy era... I do kinda ship vega and ivan? like motherfucker, i know ivan beat his meat like a BEAST and just thinking about vega there just :3 it doens't help that Pet, for me, is also a guy, so I like to just make Vega have a lil thing for guys. Also, I like to think that Vega was into Baby in a different way to Pet, yes, but like... In some sort of sick way. Like, i pay for redacted's patreon, and im sorry but you get to fuck Ivan and Vega is definitely sitting in the corner, long dick thrown over his elbow and just =w= fuck yea

YES! I prefer listeners being different to the boys, especially with Asher. Baaaabe to me, is the calm collected one. It's why David likes them for Asher. Dorian is cool and collected and snarky but just loves this stupid fucking meatball of a guy.

YEP. I FUCKING HATED GAVIN AT FIRST. LIKE BEING CALLED THE PERVERT?? SIR YOUR GETTING UR DICK SUCKED IN FRON- nvm, go fuck yourself. he's grown on me so much since then but still. rivals to lovers is godtier.

YES. GET DRAGGED BACK IN. ITS US AGAINST THE HYPERFIXATION NOW, SON.

[firegiftlouis]

Honestly don’t even care if you like Marius or David tbh, like that genuinely isn’t even my beef with some of their fans. My problem is that some of them have this weird…I wanna say superiority complex for liking them almost? “I like Marius because I know the difference between fiction and reality” like be so serious for a moment 🙄

I don’t know how many times this discourse has happened on this site by now but fiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It isn’t born from nothing and when it is released to an audience, especially if it gets very popular, it can influence the artistic or cultural landscape and those that consume it. No, liking someone like Marius doesn’t make you a pedo, just like playing video games hasn’t made me a mass shooter, but “fiction doesn’t affect reality” is such a disingenuous take at this point I’m surprised we’re still seeing it.

Never mind the fact that Anne Rice, in reality, supported children having sexual relationships with adults so again that point is kinda moot but whatever. Again, like what you like but be less smug about it maybe?

[ingravinoveritas]

Is it just me or does it seem like Anna doesn’t have anything about Michael on her IG? I think the last thing I saw was when she and Michael went to see David’s play last year. Georgia hasn’t had anything about Michael either lately, but it just seems different. Or I’m reading too much into it. At least Georgia does have David on hers.

Hi there! I know you sent this several days ago and I've been a bit swamped, so apologies for taking so long to answer.

You are not at all reading too much into things, as a lot of what you mentioned is what many of us have noticed over the last few years, too. Anna puts Michael on her Insta when it's convenient/when there is something to sell (their relationship, typically). The most recent thing (before today, at least) was a picture from Mabli's first birthday party in May. Though she also posted this photo in a story on the same day that GO 2 was released (again, something to promote/sell):

This was obviously an old picture (likely taken midway through filming season 2, during the holiday break--so December 2021/January 2022), but it's telling that this is what she chose to post, instead of something new. And this again continues AL's pattern of posting terrible pictures of Michael, where he looks miserable and she looks smug. It seems like he was caught off-guard, too, as if she wanted a picture before he could put on his "game" face. There were so many choices happening here, and I'm genuinely confused by all of them.

Which then brings us today, and the bunch of photos/videos AL just posted for her birthday weekend, to again brag/show her "celebrating" with Michael. She posted multiple things, but I'm going to highlight these two in particular, as they stood out to me:

For those who can't tell, on the left is video of Michael at a parking meter machine, going to pay for parking. AL is making fun of him (again, which she has done multiple times previously), likely in an attempt to mimic the way Georgia pokes fun at David, yet lacking any of the underlying respect or affection that Georgia seems to have for David.

This (and AL's other stories from today) also continue her pattern of filming Michael surreptitiously/from a distance in order to generate content. In the story on the right, Michael is shooting basketballs and AL is standing behind him filming, rather than actually being in the moment, which gives the feeling of her wanting attention for herself more than wanting to enjoy her birthday with Michael. What also struck me about this and the other stories she posted is how cold and distant they seem. Pictures of empty drink glasses, a table, her sitting on the floor alone. The vibes are just completely "off" somehow, in my opinion, and it's noticeable.

What really stands out to me as well is that it doesn't look like either one of them were having that much fun. One thing we can say for certain about Michael and David--whether you ship them or not, whether you think something is going on between them or not--they always have fun together. We see it in the interviews they do, the interactions they have, how both of them are constantly smiling/laughing and there is never the feeling of one person monopolizing the spotlight--it's them, together, genuinely enjoying each other's company. Making each other laugh. And I just don't feel like that is the case with Michael and AL, because what I get from those stories today is a sense of obligation, rather than fun.

(I also think it's very telling and worth noting that in all of the stories AL posted, the only face that is full-on visible is her own...)

So yes, those are my thoughts on Michael being on AL's Insta and these new developments. As I've always said, I could be completely wrong about everything, but the fact that I've been getting more asks and comments about this makes me think others are starting to notice the questionable optics as well...

[the-firebird69]

David Guetta - Titanium ft. Sia (Official Video)

So he said that he goes the banana smug there love Tommy f that's your costume and it says great I got it and it started laughing I have it here in my backpack when do I change it says whenever you change I don't think you have a massive amount of superpowers you have to get into costume so he goes ahead and does it and that's what happens and he does steal Tommy f banana smuggler and he finds it in a weird place it's in one of the shops the chopper shop where he made the Vincent

Thor Freya

And where Patel would you lose or leave some sort of weird crap like that in my shop for crying out loud you gay boy.

Paul Senior

And I guess I would leave it somewhere if I did of course not why would I do that to you

Vincent

I'm going to have to go up there and look for your stupid underpants and they're really not banana smugglers it's a speedo and it looks odd I probably modify it

Trump

I can't wait to see this stupid crap he wants me in my lederhosen he just take care of the main issue that's gross you idiot my brain is my brain yeah it's sort of follow that I'm not as type my body doesn't look right to him it looks better the way I am as these specter silk specter and your costumes ridiculous Trump you f**** look like a big homo

Silk specter and for Christ's sake is a young man everybody has a time where they're naked in their house leave them alone it's not doing it on purpose and he doesn't look like that now and you're a f****** moron and you're a f****

It's not to be a big homo it's to show them a real person and it's suggesting that I'm a homo and that's not a regular person I sort of get that so I have to fix it and she says she hates me

Trump

I guess these are the conversations we don't want you having and you're having it right now so I have to tell you to stop doing that I know I have a character in the movie I don't want to tell people I get shot it's not in the head might be a little bit it's probably Tommy F trying to collect me this blows you people so dumb

Mac Daddy

I guess I shoot a bunch of people and it comes back to me then it comes back to them we're ignoring the empire isn't really care cuz the foreigners are going to handle it and we're going to be these riders and we're being ridden

Tommy f

You have stuff and we're going after it you idiot

Max and a bunch of others apparently

Permission to print granted

Olympus