Genuinely my main thing with the Watcher thing (I watch their stuff but I’d never consider myself a die hard fan) is that I really want to see the back end projections and business plans that went into this. Show me how their math mathed to the point that this seemed not just viable, but an improvement upon YouTube at this moment in time.
I’ve been watching it unfold all day and seeing the comparisons to Dropout, the unfortunate optics of reinstating the “let’s go eat stupidly expensive stuff” show as your first big new thing for the platform while also saying you don’t have money to do the “TV-quality” things you want, all that’s fine and dandy and not incorrect. But I just can’t see how this is financially going to win out.
I wish the boys the best, hope it works out for their sakes, and I hope regardless that one day we get an idea of what the decision making process was. Not the vague “ad revenue ain’t what it used to be” type comments they made in their very not-reading-the-room announcement video, but actual numbers. I’m super interested.
27 notes
·
View notes
oh god hi hello this is guin! from my main! if the whims may compel you, perhaps no. 14) on the cuddle-list? "being calmed by the familiar feeling of the other's body moulding into theirs"
ITS JUST! OOH. its good. "being calmed by" implying perhaps a stress relieved by closeness, or a distance resolved, or simply and transparently enjoying the way they Fit Together. the way this one is also canon to how they reach for each other when distressed. GOD!!!!
(prompt from this post) AHHH HELLO!!!! HELLO!!!!!! and YES this one is SOO!!! IT'S EVERYTHING TO ME!!!! Thank you for the prompt and the excuse to write them... domestic beejhawk relaxation is everything...
Keys in the door—Hawkeye set his book down and leaned over the arm of the couch, craning backwards, letting his head loll so he could see a sliver of the front door down the hall.
BJ stepped through, not much more than a narrow line of work suit from Hawkeye’s upside-down and significantly obstructed perspective.
“Beej,” he called, so he’d be noticed. “How was work?”
BJ kicked his shoes off—Hawkeye could tell by the sound—and came down the hall, pausing in the doorway. He leaned there with an arm up. He’d stayed late at the hospital, had been called away on some sort of last minute consultation or stand-in of which his secretary had only loose details. It had sounded harried. Touch-and-go. Something bad somewhere happening to somebody, bad enough they needed to pull BJ in at the end of his shift.
“Missed you at dinner,” Hawkeye said, when BJ didn’t seem interested in talking about work. “There’s a plate in the oven.”
“Domestic.” BJ kept looking at him.
“Do you want it now?” Hawkeye readjusted, his neck starting to ache. “I’ll sit with you.”
“In a minute, maybe.” BJ dropped his arm from the doorway and touched the underside of Hawkeye’s chin. He shifted, cupping Hawkeye’s face in both hands, and looked at him from a while longer, expression tough to read upside down.
Hawkeye kissed the pad of BJ’s thumb when he brushed it over the corner of his mouth. “If you don’t want me to sit with you, will you sit with me?”
BJ breathed a laugh. His posture softened. “Sure, Hawk.”
Hawkeye pulled him down onto the couch, opening his legs for BJ to settle between, directing BJ to lie against his chest. He kept himself intentionally relaxed, making himself a comfortable place for BJ to rest, arms draped loosely over his back, thighs bracketing his hips only a suggestion of pressure. It was always nice to lie with BJ—reassuring to know he was alright at the end of an unexpected separation, a stressful break from their usual evening routine, and he knew BJ found it just as calming as he did. He inhaled slowly, purposefully, letting his chest rise against BJ’s, their stomachs pressing warmly together. Heat was already starting to transfer through BJ’s work clothes, and Hawkeye’s undershirt.
BJ made a soft noise into Hawkeye’s neck, and relaxed all at once, tension slipping away. He exhaled deeply, audibly, and kissed Hawkeye’s jaw.
Hawkeye kissed his temple. He focused idly on pacing his breath to BJ’s, the feeling of BJ’s ribcage expanding and contracting under his palm, the gentler movement of his torso as he melted against Hawkeye. It was difficult to stay awake—the quiet, BJ’s weight, the comfort of being held were all soporific.
“If I fall asleep,” Hawkeye said, stroking the back of BJ’s head, “wake me up before you eat. I want to sit with you.”
“Fine,” BJ said into his neck, agreeable, going nowhere fast.
23 notes
·
View notes