#regardless the fandom is certainly worse off without Michael | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ingravinoveritas · 5 months

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I've already shared many of my thoughts on Staged winning two I Talk Telly awards today and the subsequent acceptance speech videos for those awards, but I can't stop thinking about Michael not being in either video.

Michael and David are the heart and soul of Staged. It's not a far reach to say that they are the reason Staged came to exist in the first place, after Simon witnessed their amazing chemistry in GO, and that they are also the reason it continued on for as many seasons as it did. I am in no way attempting to diminish the supporting cast, but there is a reason that Michael and David keep winning the acting-related awards and no one else has.

For them/the show to collect two new awards (Best Comedy and Best Comedy Partnership) and Michael to appear nowhere in either acceptance speech video is very strange at best, and at worst, downright concerning. And it is further not helped by the way in which the videos are presented. It would actually be much less bizarre if we only saw David and Georgia's video, as they did the same exact thing when Michael and David won that same award in 2021 (when Michael was sick with Covid, which was why he wasn't in the video). So it makes sense for them to have gone this particular route:

...And then we have Anna's video. A video that contains cardboard cutouts of David and Georgia in the background, and in which Michael is neither seen nor even mentioned, which seems thoughtless at best given that Michael is the reason Anna was in the show in the first place (and apparently as a very last minute addition).

And for some reason, Lyra is the one speaking while they are both in front of the cutouts and AL is standing there like she's giving away a new car on The Price Is Right:

I'm just honestly at a loss for what the reasoning was behind this. Because all it does is draw more attention to the fact that Michael is missing, that he's been virtually absent from Twitter since the end of October, and that he's been previously reluctant to promote Staged and is apparently equally reluctant to appear in a video with his own girlfriend co-star (as he himself once referred to her, mere moments after saying that he loves David).

Whatever the case may be--if someone from PR has told Michael to continue laying low, if he's busy with rehearsals for the play he's about to star in, or if Michael is fully over promoting Staged in any capacity--none of this seems normal. I'd love to hear what my followers think, of course, so please feel free as always to speak your mind in the comments on this post...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #staged #or 'Brokeback Mount Him' which is what i am referring to Staged as from here on out #georgia tennant #the more i think about it the weirder this all seems #it's giving Michael David and Georgia as a polyam unit #and Anna being completely separate from that in every way #choices #not all of them good #regardless the fandom is certainly worse off without Michael #anna lundberg #thoughts #discourse #gifs by me

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jowritesthingss · 4 years

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Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to—”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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hyannah · 5 years

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Anon Archives vol. 4 (right?)

full res: x I miss him too. He was the first of the cast I ever designed and without him, there would simply be no TBoA. Rest assured there will be no shortage of him in the comic :) I understand that the concept of Wolfe with facial hair will be like marmite for most of you, but it’s probably something that you should prepare for regardless! Wolfe no longer has use of his hands due to extensive nerve damage and he has to get imaginative with ways to keep his grip on things - but some tools, like razors - are simply impossible for him to use anymore due to his tremors. Before the gang comes together he will be looking quite worse for wear.

full res: x She calls him “Marty” :) Her mother called him that so it makes him happy. He’s not her father but he loves her as one would. He was the one who delivered her as a baby, though during the process there were complications. She broke her leg on the way out and though Martin was able to treat her, it caused her to walk with a slight limp growing up. Teaching her to dance wasn't just Martin's idea of physiotherapy but his way of showing her how dearly he cared for her. Music and dance are our good doctor's love languages, you see. He will have Twinkletoes refer to him as “Sir” when he reprimands her, but due to some of Martin’s own issues growing up, he hates disciplining children. If he absolutely must, it’s firm but merciful, and under no circumstances would he ever raise his hand to them.

full res: x Michael Graves is one of three of Ashwick’s Senior Wardens, the other being Hunter Gerhardt and an as of now unannounced third. Wardens are the town’s law enforcers who work directly under the church’s orders. Neither entirely police nor militia, they’re a bit of both. Wardens patrol the streets at night and make sure no one is out after Curfew. Wardens are simultaneously feared and revered amongst the deeply religious townsfolk who view them as God-sent, but no one strikes pure terror into their hearts quite like Graves. While Hunter is known for being terrifying but sometimes merciful, Graves holds no such reputation. If gunshots are heard in the night or blood stains the cobblestones in the morning, townfolk know to keep their mouths shut and heads down.

Thank you so much! I still have some demons to battle but I want to get better, and your support means the world.

Thank you! I kinda wanna die when I look at that piece. Damian deserved better than my art in that funky phase and I will capture his true beauty one day.

LOL Bloodborne has been a huuuuge visual influence on me over the last few years. Expect to see some similarities I'm sure.

Thank you ;.; I used Paint Tool Sai religiously but I've unfortunately fallen out of love with it in the last year in favour of Clip Studio Paint. I would highly recommend CSP and since it comes with a one-month free trial you'd be missing out not to give it a go. I occasionally use Photoshop for some final touches but not enough to say it's worth paying that silly subscription fee for. Lately, I've been using Procreate on my iPad. It was one hell of an investment (😔💸) but it was worth it - the iPad feels great to draw on.

Thank you! Yes, definitely expect that. There are a few timeskips in canon and I have outfit changes planned.

Wolfe can sometimes be seen circling a bed or chair a few times before sitting/lying down not unlike a dog would. Rose cannot - and I truly mean this - fathom numbers. To say she is bad at math would be a terrible understatement. Martin needs a few shots of whiskey a day to keep him going but he never seems inebriated so it’s impossible to tell (unless you’re Hunter). Hunter is so tall that churches are the only buildings he doesn’t have to duck to get in to and he Riker Sits everywhere. Gloria is a little superstitious, and Graves is a cigarette smoker. Twinkletoes likes pigeons.

I would certainly recommend it! If drawing inspires you, give it a shot! Though whether or not I recommend going to school for it is a more complicated question. The good thing about pursuing a career in art is that at the end of the day your work ethic and portfolio are your best friends. Having degrees and connections will help in the industry for sure (and why I DO recommend art courses for people who have the money and want to experience student life), but if you're a poor kid that can't shell out the dough for art school or if you studied a different field, or if college didn't/isn't working out for you, it's not the end of the road. You can build your career on your own terms if you're driven enough.

Hm, let's see. I think Wolfe and Gloria would appreciate some sweet treats! Hunter rarely eats anything that isn't meat, and Rose has lived on the road most of her life so campfire food is what she's used to. She's the kind of person you'd see eat something horrifying like uncooked beans straight from the tin. Gloria appreciates her guilty pleasures and Wolfe recalls her sharing taffy with him as a little boy. But those memories are hazy now, and he's long since forgotten the taste.

Oh jeez, that would mean the world to me! As for the dialogue, it’s probably a bit of both honestly haha.

Hunter: 43, Wolfe: 23, Gloria: 41, Martin: 45, Rose: 19, Graves: 38. Some of you may recall Hunter being younger but I had to make a few timeline adjustments. Otherwise, everyone has remained the same.

Oh, well, it just might be! Wolfe is used to carrying the frail and sickly through the Charnels, but human touch in that regard is alien to him.

You're right about one thing, Ashwick is certainly in the title! I'm pretty close to revealing it so hopefully you won't be stumped for too long. I can reveal however, if I haven't already (and I think I may have, I haven't read the previous Anon Archives in years), that TBoA was going to be called Memento Mori.

He raises an amused brow at your sentiment but if you're under 35 you're all toddlers and babies to him. Plus he can't go 5 minutes without thinking about his wife so it's safe to say he’s settled down.

Haha, yeah! All of the above. Though it goes both ways. Hunter’s antics drive the poor man up the wall for sure but Hunter will be the first to tell you that doc is a force of nature too when he’s got to be. They’ve known each other for decades. They’ve taken bullets and bruises and stabs wounds for one another. Martin makes sure Hunter doesn’t get himself killed (at least he did before Malignancy took that off the table) and Hunter makes sure Martin doesn’t work himself to death. Gloria just wonders why they both have to be so damn dramatic.

1. Rose's candles simulate artificial sunlight and can temporarily vanquish Spectres from the area at night until the wick runs out. These are especially useful to the common folk who may be suffering from seeing their dead loved ones night after night. Her special coloured candles are different, though. They block a Malignant from being able to possess their Host's body and thus allow the Host to keep control of themselves when night falls. You'll learn more about the ins-and-outs of this mechanic in the comic.

2. I can't share that! You'll just have to wait and find out. Though it is a wonder how someone as formidable and self-disciplined as Hunter could fall prey to a Malignant's manipulation … I suppose even men like Father Gerhardt have been vulnerable at one point in their lives, huh?

It’s private, sorry :( It was a kind gesture from a fan who wanted to show their appreciation but it quickly got a little out of hand and very inappropriate. I’m good friends now with the few who did join so it’s not so bad and we have a good laugh, but it’s given me a small taste of “Fandom” on a grander scale and it was enough for me to realise it makes me pretty uncomfortable to be in the middle of it. I love being able to communicate with you all but I don’t love being in awkward situations so much. I might try again in the future, we’ll see.

Malignancy is unpredictable and what happens to one Host won't necessarily happen to the other!

ohohohoh who knowsssssss ;D

Nope, she’s Hunter’s danger noodle gal.

Yes, I love them!!!! I recall checking them out after you sent this message quite some time ago. I had heard a few of their songs before but I've been listening to them regularly ever since. I appreciate the recommendation since music is a really big thing for me.

Oh thank you very much! They're my own characters yes :) I first created them when I was 16 for a college project. One day I would like to share that with you all because it's come a long way. The comic is in development. Thank you all for your questions, I think that’s most of them. If you don’t see your ask in here it’s because it was asked already, I got a similar question and took a screenshot of that instead, it was too inappropriate, I can’t reveal the information yet, or I simply didn’t see it. As always if you’re looking for more prompt responses please message me off anon so I can reply privately since I respond to most anons in bulk!

#anon archives #tboa #tboa (webcomic)#my art #digital art #Illustration #wolfe grey #martin mcgregor #michael graves #twinkletoes #asks #anonymous

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