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americas1suiteheart · 9 months

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My top 10 babygirls because I love them🤭

10) Paul Dano

(He might just be the most babygirl coded of them all actually).

9) Michael Cera

(Y'all have to hear me out on this one I beg of you guys...)

8) Robert Sheehan

("I do like an accent,)🤭

7) David Tennant

(His nose, his hair, his eyes, EVERYTHING!?)

6) Aaron Taylor-Johnson

(I live eat and breathe for Vronsky ATJ, guys).

5) Brian Tyree-Henry

(Need I say less??)

4) Anthony Perkins

(PLEASE GOOD GODS HE WAS SO FUCKING PRETTY, LOOK AT HIM!)

3) Bob Odenkirk

(I could've chose a better photo but I love how silly Bob looks in this).

2) Brian Quinn

(My god I need him so bad).

1) Patrick Stump

(He's so cute, I love him and his sluttly little glasses and sideburns).

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elettralightwood · 1 year

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Fave looks from the Met pt 2

✨women✨ (pt.2)

Men who understood the assignment 🫡

#met gala #met gala 2023 #sydney sweeney #cardi b #hailey bailey #gwendoline christie #jared leto #taika waititi #robert pattinson #conan gray #brian tyree henry

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laserpinksteam · 11 months

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Film after film: Widows (dir. Steve McQueen, 2018)

Plot-wise, it's just okay, but actorly it's a great pleasure. I love Davis when she plays roles that are not so in-your-face showy, with the proverbial "snot out of nose" crying (see this year's Air too). Here she's more steely but also vulnerable, as the wife of a (seemingly) dead criminal, who is coerced into paying his debts and aims to complete a job that originally he planned. There are some plot twists and turns, sometimes impressive and well staged, but it's predominantly an actor's film. Kaluuya stands out as the most evil person alive.

#filmafterfilm #widows #steve mcqueen #viola davis #michelle rodriguez #elizabeth debicki #cynthia erivo #daniel kaluuya #brian tyree henry #carrie coon #colin farrell #robert duvall #liam neeson #ann mitchell #jacki weaver #lukas haas

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weclassybouquetfun · 9 months

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A few weeks ago Sony Pictures announced changes to their slate.

We could have spent cuffing season with Aaron Taylor-Johnson as KRAVEN THE HUNTER

this October, but now, we now must wait for August 2024 (also pushed out - SPIDER-MAN: BEYOND THE SPIDER-VERSE, the GHOSTBUSTERS: AFTERLIFE sequel, the John Cho/Katherine Waterston horror film THEY LISTEN, BAD BOYS 4 with Will Smith and Martin Lawrence).

But the press push was already in play prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike so we still get ATJ (no, not Anya Taylor Joy) content.

I want to break Aaron Taylor-Johnson-bread with Brian Tyree Henry.

ATJ (again, not Anya Taylor Joy) explains his past roles.

youtube

-The interviewer keeps pushing the speculation that Taylor-Johnson will be the next James Bond. As much as I love Aaron, I have my pick.

MAKE BOND SCOTTISH AGAIN.

Jack Lowden can play suave, he can be a charmer, he can be rakish, he looks good in a suit,

Granted, not this one.

This one.

He can do action and his hand choreo is on point.

Give him his things, Barbara Broccoli!

#Youtube #aaron taylor johnson #kraven the hunter #comic book movies #jack lowden #james bond #007 #brian tyree henry #lemon and tangerine #aaron johnson #nosferatu #robert eggers #marvel characters #sony pictures

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mannytoodope · 3 months

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Bibby: Get you ready for Hollywood. That reminds me, hey, did you see that basketball player that hit all them people at the club in that invisible car? That thing is on YouTube. Paper Boi: Yeah, man. I know about it. - That is the funniest vi...

Bibby: You got to see this shit. I got to show you this.

Paper Boi: Yeah, man. Bibby: This here is funny.

Paper Boi: But I ain't got to, I ain't got to, I already...

Bibby: You got to watch this. You need to watch this, trust me. Yeah, watch that right quick. I'ma use the bathroom, though.

Paper Boi: Man, where you go...? Bibby: Let me just...

Paper Boi: Hey, Bibby, man. Somebody...Somebody calling your phone, bruh. Raindrops, peach emoji?

Bibby: Hello? What you doing? Don't do that. Don't go through that. Hello? Baby, baby, baby, what are you yelling for? I'm on my way! I'm ten minutes... I'm on 85 right now, I promise. Promise to God, I'm on 85!

Paper Boi: Boy. What are, what are you doing? -Bibby: Leaving.

Paper Boi: Leav...? Man, Bibby, you can't leave me here with half a haircut, man. Look at this thing, man. Come on now!

Bibby: It's cool 'cause you coming with me.

Paper Boi: Come on. Bibby, I ain't going...Man, I ain't going nowhere till my hair gets cut, bruh.

Bibby: Come on, man. Listen, my girl, stay five minutes around the corner. I'll cut you over there. We'll be right back. Paper Boi: Why, man? We already in a barbershop, bruh.

Bibby: Hey. I know you don't want nobody else in here to cut your hair for your billboard, do you? You trying to go to Hollywood now. Do you want to be on the poster, or do you want the cat on the poster?

Paper Boi: A'ight, man.

Bibby: Come on now. Yeah, so...We got to go out the back, man.

#Bibby #Robert S.Powell #Alfred 'Paper Boi' Miles #Bryan Tyree Henry #Atlanta

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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By: Wilfred Reilly and Robert Cherry

Published: Feb 14, 2023

The senseless murder of Tyre Nichols, by five black Memphis police officers, was an undisputed tragedy. But it’s important to judge it in context.

For many on the American political left, the explanation for what happened was simple: white supremacy. Despite the officers involved being black, this was still held up as evidence of the continued victimisation of black men by police officers who too often resort to violence whenever they interact with ‘people of colour’. Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, George Floyd and other BLM martyrs, of varying degrees of actual innocence, have been cited in support of these claims, and have been used to fuel the ‘Defund the Police’ narrative.

This take is wrong. We shouldn’t demonise policing and policemen simply because the annual number of problematic killings is above zero. According to the Washington Post’s excellent database, about 25 unarmed black Americans were killed by police gunfire annually from 2015 to 2018. The figure is only at 25 because of an atypical 37 killings in 2015. Over the past four years, in fact, the number of unarmed black Americans killed annually by police gunfire stands at 12. In contrast, far more police officers are shot and killed in the line of duty each year – 314 police officers were shot and 58 were killed in 2021 alone.

While the left highlights the fact that black Americans are killed by police at two-to-three times the rate that would be expected from their share of the population, it neglects to mention the most glaringly obvious reason for this. Black Americans are a far younger, more urban and more working-class population than are white Americans. Largely as a result of this, they are disproportionately perpetrators of violent crimes. They therefore come into contact with the law more often than other sections of US society. According to recent figures from the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS), black Americans are at least five times as likely as whites to commit murders and nearly three times as likely to commit violent crimes overall.

Moreover, the homicide problem in specifically black communities has grown significantly since the killing of George Floyd in 2020 – with the annual number of murders surging to over 20,000 and black-perpetrator homicides passing the 10,000 mark in both 2020 and 2021. There are now significantly more black (60 per cent) than ‘white and other’ (40 per cent) homicide victims annually, despite the fact that black Americans make up only 12 to 13 per cent of the US population. This entirely new level of blood-letting is the true crisis faced by black American citizens living in struggling neighbourhoods – not the phoney risk of ‘genocide’ at police hands, as BLM claims.

None of this excuses terrible police work, such as that which cost Tyre Nichols his life. However, as Bob Maranto and I have noted, perhaps the most serious problem with the BLM-inspired ‘defund the police’ narratives is that they utterly ignore potential changes to policing that might actually work. Over the past two decades, well-documented police-community coordination in major cities has been effective at reducing the number of black men killed by police, and even the share of black men engaged in violent behaviours.

Over the past decade, many police forces have begun to dramatically revamp their use of force and rethink citizen-interaction policies. Sometimes this has been prodded by federal intervention – particularly after the 2015 Department of Justice investigation into policing techniques in the troubled city of Ferguson, Missouri. As leading criminologists like David Kennedy and Thomas Abt have pointed out, police forces working with community groups have had success targeting a small number of the most ‘at risk’ men in high-crime neighbourhoods. The technique is simplicity itself: offer these potential offenders (and potential victims) strong positive incentives if they begin to turn their lives around, but harsh penalties if they do not.

Memorably, in the summer of 2020, the defunding movement proposed replacing police officers with social workers and community ‘violence disruptor’ groups. It was not entirely wrong about the role social workers can play as part of an anti-crime strategy. However, the activists failed to recognise that these groups cannot act independently of the police. Social workers, in particular, cannot effectively respond to serious situations of domestic or family violence alone – since most are young untrained women and these troubling cases often involve serious criminals armed with guns or knives. Independent ‘peace-makers’ are just tax-paying citizens – they have no access to the databases that police officers use to proactively interact with high-risk men, or any real ‘sticks’ to use to force compliance with the law. Social work and community activism can work only as an addition to better-funded and more proactive police departments, not as an alternative to them.

Other practical strategies for improving policing can work, too. As Maranto and I note, New York City – perhaps surprisingly one of the US’s very top police departments – simply fires all officers who pick up more than two or three verified citizen complaints, or demotes them to hated jobs, such as in the departmental motor pool. Maintaining a strong, well-funded Internal Affairs division, and even requiring officers to fill out an awkward 40-plus page report every time they unholster a firearm, have proven to be effective violence-reduction strategies as well. The prospect of bureaucratic tedium really can keep officers in check.

It is also clear what does not work to improve policing – the BLM-promoted strategy of reduced stop rates by lower-funded police departments. As Jason Johnson of the Law Enforcement Legal Defence Fund notes, when arrests recently plunged by 38 per cent in New York City, homicides rose 58 per cent – by more than 100. In Chicago, the equivalent figures were 53 per cent and 65 per cent. In Louisville, Kentucky, stops dropped by 35 per cent, arrests dropped by 42 per cent and murders rose 87 per cent. As Travis Campbell of the University of Massachusetts observes, the response of cities to major Black Lives Matter marches does appear to correlate with a slight decline in police shootings, but also with a remarkable surge of 1,000 to 6,000 more annual homicides nationally.

Given all this, what the horrific Tyre Nichols case reveals is not ‘black white supremacy’ but the flaws in the currently popular woke model of how to fix policing. Race doesn’t seem to have played a huge role in Nichols’ killing one way or another. More significant is the fact that the ‘hired from the hometown’ officers who allegedly beat Nichols to death were recruited under ‘dangerously lowered’ standards – two of those involved in Nichols’ death were sworn in back in August 2020, after Memphis Police Department had decided to attract more minorities by lowering education requirements. These lawmen were assigned to an almost irrationally aggressive anti-crime unit (called ‘SCORPION’), which was established precisely because crime had surged so much in Memphis – and everywhere else – following George Floyd’s killing and the Great Police Pullback. A decent man lost his life as a result.

We know what might save 10 or so ‘black lives’ every year from police shootings. And we know that these approaches might also protect a great many citizens from being knocked over the head with a brick by muggers. Yet too many on the left are happy to mouth inane ‘defund’ slogans and push dangerous policies. In doing so, they are harming the very people on whose behalf they claim to speak.

The uptick in violence and deaths as a result of police pullback is also known as the "Ferguson Effect," and has been studied.

"BLM" is a brand name, not a mission statement. They don't own concern for black people any more than Xianity owns morality.

BLM's aims are ideological (and financial), not social. Defending what they do - and maybe even more importantly, what they don't do - with "what, you don't think black lives matter?" is as asinine and dishonest as saying, "what, you don't want to make America great again?" or "but it's a religion of peace!" The Democratic People's Republic of North Korea is neither democratic nor for the people.

For the record, this is a bait-and-switch equivocaton and deception called the Motte and Bailey.

If black lives mattered to BLM, they'd be talking about things that matter to altering the trajectory of black lives that would benefit from those things: literacy and education, neighborhood crime (esp. black-on-black), young parenthood, fatherlessness, and vocational opportunities, especially those that aren't dependent on college.

[ The correct number is low double-digits. And below statistical expectations. ]

#Wilfred Reilly #Robert Cherry #BLM #black lives matter #police violence #defund the police #violent crime #Tyre Nichols #Ferguson effect #police pullback #religion is a mental illness

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davidblaska · 1 year

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Madison is not Memphis

But we have a police monitor anyway! Memphis TN, we have a problem. The police killing of Tyre Nichols looks to be even more egregious than the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis in 2020. But Memphis is more confounding, given that the five police officers were black, like their victim. As is the police chief, as is our chief in Madison WI. Therein lies today’s tale. The usual Defund the…

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#police civilian oversight board #Robert Copley #Tyre Nichols

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gorewound · 1 year

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Rubber is basically a movie you imagined while high as a kite late one night, except it's real.

#movies #rubber #lol the tyre is named robert

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 2 months

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience

The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.

Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.

It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.

"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."

He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"

"Probably!"

This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.

The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.

"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.

"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.

"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.

"Lucky bastards."

The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.

Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.

"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.

"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.

"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."

"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"

She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."

"...Mhm."

A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.

They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.

"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"

"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."

"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.

They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"

"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.

"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.

He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."

"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."

"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"

"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.

Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.

"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.

"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."

"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"

"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.

"... Is that Egan's jacket?"

"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."

"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"

"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."

"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"

"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."

"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"

Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."

"Told you!"

Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.

Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.

"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.

"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."

The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.

"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.

"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.

"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.

"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."

"Oh, piss off!"

Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.

Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.

Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.

The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"

"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.

Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"

"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."

She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.

The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.

Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"

Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"

"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.

Frankie frowned. "... You what?"

"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."

She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."

His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."

Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.

As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.

"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."

"And we can't have that."

"Nope."

With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.

"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.

"I fuckin' knew it."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #ken lemmons #pappy lewis #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

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yifeiyay · 12 days

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comms being unhinged 6h spa edition:

"toyota would not do a bull in a china shop – that would be lamborghini"

saying robert kubica still hasn't shaken the f1 driver habit of "whinging on the radio"

"understeer is when you can see the crash coming, oversteer is when you can't"

"tyres have the memory of an elephant"

being so used to praising james calado they forgot it was gio driving

them realising ferrari actually split their strats now after roasting the shit outta them for the imola stinker

#more tba if i hear them #miels liveblogs 2024 #wec #6h spa 2024

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misanocircuit · 2 months

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a mashup of lil Italian MotoGP riders' interviews 🥹 (Marco Bezzecchi, Pecco Bagnaia, Enea Bastianini, Fabio Di Giannantonio, Luca Marini, Celestino Vietti & Tony Arbolino)

Bez: "[the race] went really well, I've raced with an inferior bike which was prepared by Fabiano and I have to say that he's a genius because it has been a really nice race, I've managed to gain some advantage from the third rider and... It went well."

"My name's Bezzecchi Marco, BM bike, BZM engine, I thank Robert for the engine, my team and all my friends, especially Eddy, Pippo, Salvo, uhm... I thanks Loris and everyone else."

Pecco: "[I'm Francesco] Bagnaia, I race with the RMU [bike] in the RMU team, I'm quite happy about the race because at the first turn I was first, I've stayed in the front until the sixth lap, then I got overtaken firstly by Andrea Caravella then by Stefano Valtulini and they have been good too! I'd like to thank my team, Alessandro Rozzi and my parents."

"I am Francesco Bagnaia, I race with the RMU in the RMU team, I thank all of my mechanics, Alessandro Rozzi and then... I wish good to all the mothers for mother's day!"

Bestia: "I am Enea Bastianini on Honda, the race went... Race 1 went quite well and [makes the face of "boh" (meaning I don't know what to say) lol] the tyres slipped a bit at the beginning but then everything went smoothly and... I've tried to catch [Alex] Marzocchi but then I gave in a bit and I've fineshed 3rd..."

"My name's Enea Bastianini, I'm from Rimini, the race went quite well, I had fun, I had a great battle with Stefano Manzi... I race with the RMU bike and I thank all of my mechanics, my sponsors..."

Diggia: "Hello, I'm Fabio Di Giannantonio, ZPF bike, ZPF engine, I've finshed in second place, I did a great race: I started that I was second and I stayed calm and I've finished second. I thank everybody in the team and all of my family."

"Hello, I'm Fabio Di Giannantonio, Honda bike, the race went quite well: the first one because I had a great race, I had fun but I had a contact with [Nicolò] Castellini and I fell... And I ended up eighth; instead the second race went quite well, I'm here in second place, and I wanted to thank my dad who's making some incredible efforts to let me race."

Maro: "I'm Luca Marini, on RMU [bike]; the race went really well, I managed to start immediately perfectly from Pole Position and from the first turn on I got away from the others and, after I've reached a certain gap, I managed the race and it went really good."

Celin: "[the race from] the European Championship has been beautiful because I managed to beat everyone... Quite... Uhm, because I managed to win, getting away from everyone and it has been really nice; here, instead... It has also been easy but maybe there were tougher opponents."

"So, I started quite good in both the starts but then there was my teammate who was there behind me trying to overtake me, but I hold on until the very end and I made it! I wanted to greet... to thank Polini, my dad and my brother who's at home."

Tony: "My name's Tony Arbolino, the race went amazingly, I was third and I started very good, uhm... I was waiting for the mistake of the two in front of me, who were battling it out, and they both fell and I went to win the race!"

"We're here with the winner of the rookie's category." - "My name's Tony Arbolino, I am of the Moto Club Pa- Pasini... Racing... [doesn't know what to say]... ZPF bike... [still has no clue of what to say and gets help]... I got two wins in the Italian Championship... and I thank my mechanic Ugo and my dad!"

#motogp #marco bezzecchi #bez #mb72 #pecco bagnaia #pecco #enea bastianini #eb23 #fabio di giannantonio #diggia #luca marini #maro #celestino vietti #celin #tony arbolino #nostalgia #motorsports #mini bike

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 4 months

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A Wikizilla short on Godzilla Minus One's Oscar nomination, written and narrated by me and edited by @squid-in-a-party-hat. Turns out this site can't embed YouTube Shorts properly, who knew? Anyways, here's all the kaiju Oscars trivia I wrote for the comments:

King Kong has been much more successful at the Academy Awards than Godzilla. They didn’t have a prize for special effects back in 1933, but the King Kong remakes in 1976 and 2005 both prevailed in that category, while Kong: Skull Island was nominated. ‘76 also received nominations for cinematography and sound, and ‘05 won in sound mixing and sound editing.

During the opening of the 80th Academy Awards (2008), Peter Jackson’s King Kong delivered a flying kick to the TriStar Godzilla’s face.

Brad Pitt revealed that The War of the Gargantuas was the film that made him want to become an actor at the 84th Academy Awards (2012).

Japan has its own Academy Awards, which Shin Godzilla dominated in 2017. Godzilla Minus One may fare even better, having picked up 12 nominations to Shin's 10. Godzilla as an awards darling, who would’ve thought?

The 90th Academy Awards (2018) paid tribute to original Godzilla suit actor Haruo Nakajima in its In Memorium section.

Juliette Binoche (Sandra Brody in Godzilla [2014]) is the only Oscar-winning actor to appear in a Godzilla film. Other Oscar-winning or Oscar-nominated actors with kaiju connections include Nick Adams, Demián Bichir, Jeff Bridges, Adrien Brody, Bryan Cranston, Brian Donlevy, Vera Farmiga, Robert Forster, Naomie Harris, Anne Hathaway, Sally Hawkins, Brian Tyree Henry, Samuel L. Jackson, Richard Jenkins, Rinko Kikuchi, Jessica Lange, Brie Larson, John C. Reilly, David Strathairn, Russ Tamblyn, Ken Watanabe, and Naomie Watts.

#godzilla minus one #godzilla #oscars #vfx

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keepthedelta · 3 months

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fernando alonso going "as you wish" when his engineer tells him that he can use all of the tyres to attack is so sexy to me like yes babygirl you are the dread pirate roberts of f1 and i would do whatever you wished 😘

#fernando alonso #dts

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