#( movies are art and art is subjective anyway )

[squidthusiast]

Tfw your beautiful girlfriend explains all the Alien movies’ plots to you before she goes to bed.

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

A Woman Painting a Man – Artemisia Gentileschi // Vision – Jacek Malczewski // Barbie (2023) – Directed by Greta Gerwig

[misterfaggins]

Book designs for the ringbearers (in order)

[ID: two sheets of full-body character designs for Smeagol/Gollum, Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam, lined up in that order. Each of the hobbits has curly hair, large round pointed ears, and large feet covered in thick curly hair. The first sheet has a light blue and yellow background and depicts the characters before they took possession of the ring. The second, set against a black background, shows them some time after.

Smeagol is a fat, freckled white hobbit with medium length dark hair and sea green eyes. He is crouching comfortably with a smile on his face. In the second image, Gollum is bony and emaciated, his skeleton visible through his skin. He has large, bulging, luminous eyes reminiscent of a blind deep sea creature. His fingers are webbed and his mouth filled with many sharp, pointy teeth. He has thin strands of curly hair.

The first drawing of Bilbo has medium-dark skin, short, neat black hair, and brown eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips, looking impatient. He is dressed in casual clothes. The second Bilbo has long, graying hair that reaches well past his shoulders. He wears traveling clothes complete with a navy blue cloak. He smirks back at the camera.

The first image shows Frodo as a tall, white, chubby hobbit with short dark hair and brown eyes. He smiles happily, a healthy blush on his cheeks. The second Frodo has long, scraggly hair pulled into a messy ponytail. He is emaciated, too-big shirt hanging off his shoulders, with sunken eyes and heavy scarring across his chest in a circular radius from where the ring rested. He's covered in dirt and blood. He stares into the distance with a hopeless expression.

Sam is a short, tan, fat hobbit with short red hair, freckles, and brown eyes. He smiles up at Frodo. In the second image, Sam is a little thinner, skin more pallid. His hair has grown longer and unkempt and he is covered in dirt and blood. He has a slight scar where the ring rested against his chest. In both images, Frodo and Sam are holding hands. End ID]

[razorfst]

so i saw b.orderlands last night and in my opinion it is being overhated. is it a perfect movie? no. it's an action comedy off of a loot and shoot video game that had no plot really to begin with in the first game so. it is not a 1:1 of the game and was never advertised as such so idk why people expected it to be. it was a fun time, i thought it was funny. it's def like an average but fun film to sit and watch. also florian was great, abs everywhere.

[carsickcrow]

i need to start applying to colleges and stuff and the good news is i’m actually motivated to do so. hopefully i’ll be able to go visit the two schools i’m considering that i haven’t been to before soon. and then i need to figure out my portfolio..actually i should probably start that now ish. i definitely have enough art made and i can add stuff if i make anything good in class in the next month or so. but i should start narrowing down what pieces to include and making sure they all have titles and writing down their measurements and materials and organizing all of that information….

[snazum]

me trying to stroll thru the ted nivison tag on tumblr for some sick art X READER, IMAGINE, OTHER THINGS I CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAME OF EVEN THO IT'S QUITE LITERATLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME XDD

[pennyserenade]

i’m so jo march it hurts and the very worst part about it is that i didn’t even know about jo march until i was nineteen years old. isn’t that so fucked up

[todayisafridaynight]

whoever told me to watch Taboo i have to shake your hand cause okita being all ‘i might not like gay people but i love a good story’ has been my favorite thing for months now

[midnightcowboy1969]

I cannot describe how much I hate this letterboxd “review.”

[askshivanulegacy]

Thankfully, you can watch the original any time you want ! Incredible. Amazing how a new adaptation of something doesn't affect the original at all, but only provides a new option for people who do want to check it out.

I wonder if there are other noteworthy media adaptations that keep happening over and over and over throughout the decades that we should cancel just on the principle that they've been adapted. EW. Shakespeare, probably. Phantom of the Opera. Every play ever because you definitely can't recast or even run it more than that first time. Audio books for sure. Anything dubbed or even subbed from the original language? Yes definitely, because they won't be exactly the same. Even normal subtitles are problematic because they're often slightly different from the real production. Come to think of it, which is more real, the script of something or the way the actors changed the wording to fit their impression of the character? Book to show? Hell no. Sandman is clearly shit, no one better bother with that one. Oh, and translations of any original book. Sure hope everyone is planning to become rapidly multilingual to read original classics. Even the Bible! I know tumble won't argue that one, but I have to point out that the translations are problematic AF.

You know, fanart counts as adaptations of original works, too. Wow, so does fanfiction!! Especially the ones of Avatar, like. How dumb could those people be? The original was good already. It was told in a good way and you can just watch it. Stop making more. Somehow, more of something makes the original worse!!! Somehow.

Cancel it all. Tumblr said no adaptations.

🙃

Tumblr will be out there trying to police every inconsequential piece of your life. They will tell you what to think and what to decide is good or bad, without having ever seen it themselves. Thankfully, the "you don't need that because XYZ is better," argument isn't truth and doesn't actually mean anything. It's not even an opinion because the person hasn't seen it.

The adaptation will probably be just fine. Like everything else Tumblr has whined about. 😂

why do you even want a live action adaptation of avatar. it's good already. the story was told in a good way and you can watch it. you dont need it again but worse.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[maniculum]

One of the things I’ve noticed working in a bookstore is that a surprising number of people are completely unfamiliar with the normal way books are organized.

(I mean, in the part of the store where we keep the used books, I frequently have to assure people that the books are organized at all, but that’s because we have way more books than we have shelf space and there’s no way to handle that without it looking a bit of a mess.)

On one hand, we get customers who are apparently a completely blank slate in this area. I frequently have to walk people through, like, “Okay, it’s organized by subject / genre, then by author. Oh, ‘by author’ means in alphabetical order by the name of the author. No, their last name.” (Most of the people I give this talk to are, I think, college kids — it’s a bit strange to me that you can reach that age without knowing how bookstores work, but then again, I can kind of see how these days it’s possible to mostly get your books online where you just use a search function.)

One customer responded to the above explanation with “oh, it’s the Dewey Decimal System!” and I had to be like… no. Similar in broad concept, yes, but the Dewey Decimal System is a very specific thing (involving… decimals) and it’s really only used in libraries, not bookstores, because it kind of requires you to label the spines of your books, which bookstores generally don’t like to do for obvious reasons.

On the other hand, we also get customers with pre-existing incorrect assumptions, which are so often similar that I think they’re being imported from other media (though I’m not sure what).

People seem to expect the organization of Fiction to be much more granular — e.g., “where’s historical fiction?” “oh, that’s just in with general fiction.” I think some of that comes from movies (people ask where the “rom-com” section is, and that’s definitely a movie thing), but I’m not sure that’s always the reason.

(Admittedly the fiction organization is a bit more granular in the Used Books area than it is in the New Books, but that’s because there are certain genres that we get tons of from people selling us their old books, but we don’t buy enough of on purpose to justify giving them their own section in New Books.)

At the same time, people have the opposite assumption about Non-Fiction — i.e., they expect there to be one singular section labeled “Non-Fiction”, which is not the case. I’ve had multiple conversations that go like:

Customer: Where can I find non-fiction books?

Me: You’ll have to be more specific.

Customer: You know, non-fiction.

Me: [gesturing at the signs hanging from the ceiling that say things like “science”, “philosophy”, “art”, “history”, etc.] All of these are non-fiction in their own special way.

I try to be nice about it, but I don’t think I always succeed, just because I’m so often legitimately surprised and confused when someone just doesn’t know How Do You Books. I’m getting used to it now, but I’ve been working there for almost five years, so there’s been quite a long adjustment period in between.

Anyway. Just some observations.

[luvleyk]

.・。.・゜✭・ Pervert

|CW: G!p Bada x reader, corruption kink, vaginal sex, fingering and a bit of cunnilingus, just Bada being a perv and taking li'l innocent reader's virginity

|A/N: lots of y'all were asking for g!p, perverted, roommate Bada, so here... All in one fic, your welcome 😞 (y'all are wild fr.. But anyway.. I'm spoiling y'all so-)

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Having a roommate has its perks; one, you had someone to have you accompany with. Two, have a share when it comes to rent. And three, hmm... Let's just say... Someone who just wants to entertain themselves by fantasizing you. And that's Bada, your roommate and also your classmates on that one subject in performing arts.

She's a very attentive and nice, maybe that's what you thought about her, based on how she acts when she's around you. But what if? She's different when you're not around? Freaky, delusional and a pervert??

She would imagine you beneath her, your cunt sucking her cock so well, juices dripping on your thighs, you mumbling incoherent words for her.. Mm.. That must be heaven, but not really... Unless she's touching you, for real..

Sometimes, if you're not looking, she would check you out. Memorizing each of your details, from the smell of your hair, your eyes to your curves and thighs. Oh how she's desperate to be squished by those thighs of yours while she's eating you out like a starved person.

She shook her head when she heard you calling out her name and asking something that is related to the subject that you're studying. She would stare at you for a bit before chuckling slightly and teach you a bit about the subject, giving you a recap..

"If you need help with something else.. Just ask.."

She said. Of course she meant otherwise, but you're too naive to understand. And that's what she likes about you. So easy to corrupt, so pure, naive and innocent.. Her cock throbbed at the thought.

Compared to her, you're much more sane if I say so... You're few inches smaller than her, have this bubbly personality and fashion style.. You're just in the vanilla, type.. Said Bada.. While she's just.. In the opposite.

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One night, you came back to the apartment, late due to the school project that you're forced to stay at the library for a few hours just to finish it..

"Unnie... I'm back" you called.. It became a habit to greet each other when you both got home or whatsoever. You saw her get up from the couch to greet you... "There's the little rabbit.. Why so late?" She asked while tilting her head, feigning innocence..

You sighed in response... "I had to finish this one project on history so I got forced to stay in library" you groaned as you take off your shoes and she helped you with your bag..

"Ohh... Project, that kinda sucks" she said and you just nodded as you flopped down on the couch, laying down on your stomach.. She went behind the couch as leaned towards the headboard, looking at you intently, silently checking you out.. Even tho you're wearing a sweater and a tight jeans, she can still see how beautiful your body is. And how badly she wants to hold your hips while fucking you from behind.. "How about you take a rest and forget that li'l project of yours?"

She suggested as you looked up at her.. "Don't worry, I'll help you, yeah?" She added so you just nodded as a response.. You slowly get up from the couch and sit, you watched her walk around it and now facing you.. "So.. You must be tired, li'l rabbit.. Hungry? I cooked dinner for us since I expected for you to go home late" she sits on the floor, in front of you as she gently massages your feet..

"I'm fine.. Not that hungry tho... I'll eat later if I'm hungry.." You replied before a soft hum escaped your lips, when Bada soothe the tensed muscle..

"Hmm.. Alright.."

She continued massaging your feet before glancing up at you, seeing how you look at her with such innocence, makes her riled up with desire..

You two were now watching a movie, you suggested it at first after she's done and she quickly agreed. Maybe because she had plans while you're distract. But in any case. She loves spending her time, with you.

After a while, you're attention was focused on the screen. And for her. She can't take it anymore. She slowly leaned towards you, planting a kiss on your head, to your neck. You shivered in response, as to which she continues. But you quickly stopped her when you realized that she's getting too intimate...

"W.. What are you doing, unnie...?" You stuttered as she smirked before playing with your hair as she leaned a bit more closer... "Y/n-ah... You know how I've been wanting to just taint you, to corrupt you here and there. Until you could only remember was me.." She said, until you're laying flat on the couch. She grabbed you by the ankle, causing you to yelp as she pulled your hips closer to her..

You're grown adult, but when it comes to this sort of things. You're completely clueless, not knowing what to do next... And Bada, was willing to teach you more. "I don't... I don't think this is a good idea—" you shivered as you felt something against your clothed core...

You felt your cheeks burn as you watch her grind her growing arousal against you.. "Fuck..." You heard her cursed... "You know how I've been fantasizing this shit and you're here saying that this isn't a good idea?" She asked as loomed over you.. You suddenly feel a burning sensation between your legs and it felt weird. You gulped as you looked up at her.. "Mmn... Just want to take this li'l rabbit out of its tiny hole.." She muttered. Her gaze was went to your face, down to your body. It made you feel so small... Like a prey that has been caught by the hunter..

A shiver went down your spine, when you felt her calloused hand went under your sweater, squeezing your hips as she leaned down, planting a kiss on your neck before gently nipping it. Making sure that you'll grow sensitive and became a mess before she even fucks you into oblivion..

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You gripped on her hair, tugging on it harshly, whining out a moan as she lap out on your clit as she pushed two digits, spreading it slightly to stretch you out.. "B.. Bada.. —" you gasped as you tried to push her away but she didn't budge... "I.. It feels weird... Stop..."

She hummed as she looked at you with her hooded eyes. She looks so drunk. "Mm... Your body was telling me otherwise, bunny.." She muttered as she licked your cunt like it's a dessert that she's been craving for years... Her eyes rolled as she felt your body arched and moaning against her before letting out a guttural moan in response. She soon stopped as she gets up, positioning herself between your legs...

Your eyes widened when she revealed her huge throbbing cock underneath her sweatpants... The thought of that, being inside of you, made you shivered.. Seeing your reaction made her chuckle... "Mmn... Don't worry, I'll be gentle.." Maybe for a few minutes, once you fully adjusted to her.

"I don't.... Think that would fit..." You muttered, enough for her to hear. You slowly move away from her but she quickly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer.. "Don't run away now, we're not even in the most satisfying part.." She said..

You let out a muffled whimper once you feel her rubbing her swollen tip against your entrance before pushing it slowly. A choked up whine, escape your lips as you instinctively arched you back. Tears starts to form as the feeling of her filling your insides, overwhelms you..

A sting feeling started to form as you gripped tightly on couch, muffling a sob when she's fully inside... "Fuck... So tight..." She muttered, rubbing her thumb against your thigh as if she's soothing you... She shushed you, as her other hand went to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that slowly flows down... "I'll move, yeah..? You'll feel so good, don't worry.." She muttered.. You clenched around her as a response and she chuckled.. You jolt up when she started moving in a slow, gentle pace. As much as she wants to fuck you, she had to be gentle since it's your first, and also... Trying to be on your good side, so that she can fuck you again next time.

Her mind becoming daze as her hooded eyes we're focused on how your chest rise and fall heavily, arching your back and your hips bucking. The sight makes her lose all of her self-control. "S... So— fuck... So tight... So good.." She mumbled as her grip on your hips, tightens. She'll fuck you good. That's what her mind keeps reminding her to do. Just you, becoming a mess, moaning her name, and became incoherent...

"B... It feels so weird, unnie" you cried. She quickly shushed you by capturing your lips in hungry kiss. Her hand, that was on your hip went to your leg, slightly lifting it up as she starts to thrust in a fast pace.. The kiss became sloppy, drool starts to drip in your mouth.. Your hands gripped tightly on her shoulder, nails digging through her shirt, causing her to pull away and letting out a guttural moan. Her gaze went down between your thighs, seeing how you suck her cock so well, your warm around around her throbbing cock. She bit her bottom lip, almost harshly, it might get a bruise later. You feel the spongy tip of her cock, hitting the same spot that makes you tremble and cry in pleasure.. Her breath became huffs and puffs, words became incoherent, her vision became hazed, gripping on your thigh, almost tightly as both bodies were blinded by the pleasure..

You clenched around her as you arched your back, as if signalling her that your awfully close.. She let out a muffled moan before chuckling, weakly... "Mm... Close, yeah? Mhm.. 'M too... Me too... Fuck.." She grunted as her thrust became a bit too harsh and deep, seemingly desperate for both of you to cum.

She felt you clenching against her, her balls tightened as listened to your long cries and watches you tremble, as the orgasm courses through you. Heavy breathes escape your mouth as you let out weak sobs while she continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm before she pulled out, resting her cock against your stomach. She trembled slightly as cum starts to stream down from her tip, making a mess. Her hand grip on her cock as she tries to prolong her orgasm, head were tilted up as she let out a sigh before stopping..

Once you gained your composure, you looked up at her, seeing her slowly pulled her sweat pants up as she grabbed a tissue on the coffee table and slowly cleaning the mess on your stomach. You can see a subtle smirk on her face, as if what she did made her proud..

After that, she quickly pulled you for a cuddle, her face were buried against the crook of your neck, leaving a light kisses. You're still dumbfounded at what just happened.. You're still processing everything. You just had sex..! Your mind screamed. Bada noticed your expression which she chuckled. "Did I fuck you good, to the point that you can't process anything?" She asked in a teasing manner.

"You took my—"

"I know. So proud of myself" she said, a hint of cockiness can be heard in her voice. You stared at her in disbelief. "I should clean the couch later... There's a bit of blood on it.." She muttered before nuzzling her face against your neck.. "Should we take a shower? Or maybe another round? You know how I've been wanting to do this?" She started to ramble while leaving some light kisses on your skin.. "I love your moans earlier, tho.. I guess I did good, no? Mmn... Can't believe you made that kind of erotic sound, and it's because of m—"

"Okay shut up..." You said once you quickly pulled away and covered her mouth.. Your cheek reddens when she reminded you of what happened earlier.. She didn't remove your hand and just stare at you with those, hungry eyes.

She felt herself getting hard again. And maybe she can fuck you again, in the bed or maybe in the bathroom.

[swordsandholly]

Should I start working on this College AU rugby player Soap x art history major (sort of low self-esteem) reader again?

I’ve been thinkin’ about it. Their story haunts me. Anyway here’s a snippet for you to judge:

You sit in the common grounds on an old, tattered quilt under one of the oaks. You managed to score a good spot today, just enough sun to be warm but not enough to force you to squint. The tree curves in that perfect shape for you to lean back against it. You’ve settled into your millionth re-read of Howl’s Moving Castle. A go to when college gets too hard for your brain and you need something easy to digest. Like saltines on a sick stomach.

A faint call of, “Bonnie!” jerks you from the quiet of your moment. Oh, God. Johnny comes jogging up from a group of his fellow rugby players. If only the way he smiles at you didn’t direct all of your attention onto him, maybe you could have gotten away with pretending not to see or hear him.

As it is, you totally can. You push your sunglasses up onto the top of your head and pluck out an earphone just to sit up on your elbows. “Johnny.”

All six foot of the man comes plunking down onto the grass beside you. “I don’ get tae see ye around campus often. Feels like I havennae seen ye in forever.”

“I work a lot.” You repeat. Why couldn’t the gods gift you with at least moderate conversational skills? “It’s only been, like, four days. You weren’t in class yesterday.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aye… Might have, eh, partaken a bit too much…”

You snort. “As long as you weren’t drinking and driving.”

“I would never.” The response is immediate, his tone unrecognizably dark. A sore spot.

“I’ll give you the notes.” You tilt your head back, changing the subject quickly. The shadows move and the sun begins to encroach upon your spot. It’s nice, actually.

“Ye donnae have tae-”

“I don’t mind.” You wave him off. “We can go over them on study night.”

A loud whistle and a holler echo from the other side of the lawn. Johnny’s buddies are all grouped up, staring. Well, the ones that aren’t actively being distracted by pretty girls are. Your eye meets with the man in the mask, staring each other down for a very brief moment. A shiver runs down your spine as he turns away. Two of the others lean in, snickering while they watch the two of you. It makes your chest hurt in a far too familiar way.

“I think your boys are calling.” You turn back to look at Johnny.

“Och, they can wait.” He shrugs those wide shoulders. Has he gotten bigger recently? “Whit are ye readin’?”

“Oh, nothing, just some kids book…” Before you can tuck it away he snatches it up, flipping it over to the back.

“My sisters read this! They watched the movie a lot. S’about tha’ girl who gets swept off her feet by a dashing wizard, eh?” He grins and leans in. “Remind ye of anybody, bonnie?”

You sit up and scoff, snatching the book back. “Fancy yourself dashing, MacTavish?”

“On occasion.” He winks.

You roll your eyes and mock gag. The man sure lays it on thick. “Well if you read the book you’d know he’s a whiny little brat, so, frankly, yes, it does remind me of a certain somebody.”

Johnny pouts dramatically, only further proving your point. “Got a sharp tongue on ye, hen.”

“It comes in handy.” You chuckle.

“God, I’d be so good to ye.” He says so fast you almost miss it as he grins wide.

You splutter out an awkward laugh, caught entirely off guard. The words sting a bit. He’s joking, obviously. It’s a little cruel. Uncharacteristically so.

Another shout has Johnny rolling his eyes and standing up. “I’ll see ye Thursday?”

“Thursday…” You nod, eyes still wide. You’re sure you look ridiculous.

Mr. Johnny-Sees-All grins back at you with a knowing spark in his eye. “Later, hen!”