noxexistant

[noxexistant]

#this scene was so dumb #this movie sucked #this movie was garbage but-

Then don't reblog it???? I cannot keep reiterating how annoying it is for op to read these tags. Why are you reblogging things you don't like or enjoy? Keep your reviews off gifmaker's posts unless you are sharing the love and appreciation for what people are creating.

[noxexistant]

Great Depression-era Christmas card on recycled paper (via here)

[noxexistant]

Hey Library Kids & Book Lovers, This Knit Vest Pattern Is For You - It's A Borrowing Card! 👉 https://buff.ly/4fTAIOm 📚

[noxexistant]

Mal's Teen Wolf rewatch: Lunar Ellipse (3x12)

[noxexistant]

LADY AND THE TRAMP (1955) Dir. Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson And Hamilton Luske

[noxexistant]

jack kelly is 5’9” on a good day. he’s all awkward angles and not-quite-right proportions, limbs he didn’t quite grow into, stilted by starvation. he holds his body fat in strange places when he gains some — nothing quite fits inside his body, least of all his brain. his arms are thick and strong but without much tone, littered with scars from cuts and grazes and burns. the muscles in his back, around his shoulder blades, are visibly lopsided from his bad arm, and they stretch and strain as he pushes himself too far. the skin there is scarred too, little lopsided moons — full and half and crescent — from cigarettes and cigars. his own night sky. he picks at his nailbeds and bites the skin back til they sting and bleed. when he needs to know he's real, he'll press the heel of his hand to where the bridge of his nose never quite healed from being broken too many times, and he'll let it ache like a bruise. he keeps his hair in braids, tight cornrows against his scalp wound by medda when she's got the time, because it's safest like that, can't have fingers buried in it to pull. he’s got paint in every colour buried in the grooves of his work-worn hands. his eyelashes are long, eyes so dark that even sunlight won’t wash them amber, but a deep brown like rich watered soil. he smiles like it’s easy — he looks like his brother when he smiles. he only cries on his own. he’s read his favourite cowboy dime novel so many times he could probably recite it, even without the well-worn pages in front of him. he smells like dust and fresh air. like stolen cigarettes and rooms that aren’t his. his boots have a little height to them — he can pretend he’s taller than 5’9” with them on. he can pretend he’s a lot of things.

[noxexistant]

Dress, late 1800s

[noxexistant]

there needs to be a niceys block button that says i have nothing against you i am only curating my experience and then a toughies block button that i dont know kills them with spikes

[noxexistant]

“katherine sucks she should’ve never been written, sarah’s so much better” “sarah’s so boring and barely a character, katherine’s so much better” newsies fans truly cannot handle more than one woman before you start getting scared

[noxexistant]

The original Broadway production of “A Streetcar Named Desire” opened at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre in New York City on December 3, 1947. Directed by Elia Kazan, the play starred Marlon Brando, Jessica Tandy, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden. #OnThisDay

[noxexistant]

babygirl i’ve got ocs you don’t even know about

[noxexistant]

this year has been at least a decade long

[noxexistant]

Heathers (1989) dir. Michael Lehmann

[noxexistant]

“So you and Snyder.”

Oscar pulled a face at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped on his drink, something amber and strong. A whiskey he usually couldn’t afford but she said she’d pay if he actually agreed to meet her.

She sipped at her cola as she waited for an answer.

And he made her wait.

Rolled the drink around on his tongue and lined the glass up with the cardboard placemat before he spoke.

“What about me and Snyder?”

“You work with him.”

He snorted and she frowned. It felt too much like being laughed at.

“You worked with him during the strike.” She corrected.

“Common enemy. and if you were gettin’ paid what I was you’d do the same.”

“I think your relationship with money is more dire than my own, but I’ll note that down.”

He brought his glass to his mouth again, a scoff rather than a laugh this time and that made her feel better about the whole situation, a clawing back of control despite the dingy pub he’d suggested they meet at, table sticky and stained and the smell of alcohol and sweat and working men.

She knew it was a home comfort of sorts for him, even if he wouldn’t admit, an attempt to try and exert some kind of control while talking about a trauma; something at his own pace, in his own stomping ground, while being biting and mean. A collection of behaviours she’d predicted and expected, only to be proven right about.

All in all, Defensive.

She expected nothing less. Jack got defensive too, when he didn’t want to talk about things; Sharp in a way neither of them were familiar with.

Oscar relaxed back in his chair and it creaked at the movement.

“Snyder’s up himself, like you. Fuckin’ Rich folk.” He paused. “But he can be decent. He likes me well enough, and when he hires me an’ Mo for a job we do what he asks, and we get paid. It ain’t complicated.”

“The dynamic of your relationship isn’t just employer and employee though is it.”

“What?”

“I mean. You and your brother were in the refuge for several years. That’s why we’re here-“

“And so fuckin’ what. The way you survive in there is bein’ on Snyder’s good side. And we were.”

“So you weren’t victim to him then? The beatings, and the lack of food. Jack told me about boys who all but froze to death, and solitary-“

His drink slammed down onto the table loud enough that she jumped. Gaze shooting up from her notebook to him again. His brows furrowed and scowl etched out across his face.

“Christ. Real nice list you got.”

She ignored the gruffness of his tone.

“I thought you were on his good side.”

“Learned to be. I’d rather beat up some kid to keep ‘em in line than be sent to solitary.”

Even as he spoke she noticed how is expression shifted, something from drunk and vaguely amused at her discomfort, to closed off. Guarded.

“I’m sure solitary was difficult for you, considering your claustrophobia.”

In the weeks they’d been gradually getting to know eachother the innate fear his presence tended to cause had faded, with every fast quip and unintentional, rare, nicety she’d gotten more comfortable around him.

That was all gone now, with the way he looked at her, gaze dark and cold and hazy enough to be drunk in a way that was scary, that same glint in his eye that promised violence and hurt the way it had when he’d gone after her friends with baseball bats and Snyder in his corner during the strike.

“Who the fuck told you that.”

“Jack.” She said shortly. “He said you were in the refuge together for a few months. That the-“ she cleared her throat. “That the claustrophobia was an open secret.”

Oscar’s hand gripped his glass so tightly she was scared he’d break it, knuckles white with the pressure and serving to make his gashes and bruises look worse against the pale canvas of his skin.

“Kelly should learn to shut the fuck up before I make him.”

She was silent for a moment, listening instead to the sounds of clinking glass and crass, rough voices, and drunk laughter.

“Well.” She said, voice tight. “You were always going to attack him again eventually. At least now you can say you have a reason for it.” She let the silence sit longer, turned back to notebook.

The bark of a laugh was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“Yeah alright.” He took another swig and she could smell the whiskey. I’ll tell him you said so.”

[noxexistant]

drawing/art bases with the worst drawn wheelchair you’ve ever seen in your life. “how to draw wheelchairs” posts full of inaccuracies and classism. many such cases.

[noxexistant]

blue, through kaye donachie’s reminiscent paintings.

[noxexistant]

"Representation for authentically disabled people is already quite minimal, so to have the opportunity and make a point of it, especially in a huge project that’s beloved by so many people, that’s incredibly important, especially in terms of sending a message to other projects that it’s possible to include disabled people in your casts."

MARISSA BODE as NESSAROSE WICKED, 2024 — dir. Jon M. Chu