#Doom Vader

[victusinveritas]

James Earl Jones, the revered actor who voiced ‘Star Wars’ villain Darth Vader, starred in ‘Field Of Dreams’ and many other films and is an EGOT winner, died this morning at his home in Dutchess County, NY. He was 93.

Read about his life and legacy here: https://tinyurl.com/3bf8zn25

[renif]

hunt for the apprentice

[bruceandmary]

I think doing voice for animation is... is probably acting in its most purest and ancient form. It's a bit like... the Greek form of acting, in the ancient Greek. where they had masks on. In our case, the mask is the animator's drawings, you know.

The Making of the Lion King.

Rest in peace, James Earl Jones.

[demigoddessqueens]

Rest in the most ever loving peace James Earl Jones, you’ve more than earned it and will be missed by all generations 😭💞💕😢💔

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[crusaderguy]

Dudes would rather take on hordes of enemies instead of getting therapy.

[izunias-meme-hole]

[ben-talks-art]

Iconic Big Baddies

[patched-up-pants]

It is I, patched-up-pants, and I bring you some patched-up pants! These were not my first, nor will they be the last, for I have already begun works on yet another one, but they are most certainly my favourite pair to date. Although they took months to sew alone, I still enjoyed adding each and every one of the patches, except anything around the crotch, like the Siouxsie eyes, vice squad, or hole - that portion is the devil. The base itself is a pair of slim-fits I bought in Cropp so long I cannae even remember how many years it's been, while the patches have all been locally sourced (read: fabric purchased at a small, local fabric store) with the exception of one, which I had on my first jacket at, like, 15yo.

I am not full of certainty as to whether these can truly be referred to as 'crust' pants, for not only do they lack the singularity of being veiled solely in crust punk bands, but they additionally possess pieces related to topics outside of the punk scene, or even music entirely. Some are completely without theme actually; say, the ones on the cheeks. There appear images pertaining to manga, like Berserk, or MahoYome, various genres of punk, as well as metal, politics, especially on the bottom in the back, and even some more light-hearted tunes like Minami and Yorushika. Naturally, there are also ones whose entire vision is based more on the placement, rather than the substance of the patch itself, and those are all sexually charged to at least a noticeable degree; Analogs written right above the asshole, the target right On Top of it, Hole slightly below, or the Eyes right on the crotch, though those only become visible should the legs be spread a decent amount. If anyone believes these to be childish/immature, please, refrain from making that opinion known.

Also yes, the eyes are in fact ripped, and so is the Hole patch, however, that's a little more hidden.

[grigori77]

James Earl Jones, RIP

Just heard the heartbreaking news, one of the greatest, most awesome and all time INCREDIBLE actors of all time, as well as one of the sweetest, kindest and most selfless human beings ever, has passed away. The seemingly immortal James Earl Jones, one of the most famous actors of his generation, well respected on both big and small screens AND on the stage for over SEVEN DECADES, respeonsible for portraying some of my favourite screen characters ever ... this might be the one that hurts me the most this year ...

Of course, like everybody, he will FOREVER be most closely associated with Star Wars, as the voice of probably the greatest screen villain of all time, Darth Vader.

But he was also King Jaffe Joffer, the father of Eddie Murphy's wayward prince in Coming to America and its sequel ...

The Counter Culture author Terence Mann in the magnificent Field of Dreams, as well as ...

NSA Agent Abbott in director Phil Alden Robinson's next film, the underrrated suspense thriller Sneakers ...

Simba's dad Mufasa in The Lion King ...

Jack Ryan's CIA boss and father figure, Admiral Jim Greer, in The Hunt For Red October, Patriot Games AND Clear & Present Danger ...

Lt. Luther Zogg in one of my favourite screen comedies of all time, Stanley Kubrick's Dr Strangelove, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying & Love the Bomb (his VERY FIRST big screen role) ...

and, of course, MY very favourite role that he EVER PLAYED, the role I will always MOST FONDLY remember him for, one of my very favourite ever screen villains, the dastardly ancient wizard Thulsa Doom in Conan the Barbarian.

Oh yeah, and also those brilliant and thoroughly hilarious Sprint adverts in which he and Malcolm McDowell would read out inane social media posts with the utmost gravitas as though it was Shakespeare ...

The man had an AMAZING RUN, and he is guaranteed to go down as one of the all time greats, beloved around the world and destined to become one of the true icons of the 20th AND 21st Centuries, remembered LONG after his passing. But he's STILL gone far too soon ...

James Earl Jones, January 17th 1931 - September 9th 2024. Rest In Power.

[magnusbae]

You chose your enemies. You chose your consequences.

[generously-general]

I'm sorry that my blog has become a Gravity Falls repository as of late (lying) but also. Listen. Hear me out. Ford Pines exists and I love him

[minathered]

Just Saw The News

RIP to James Earl Jones.

One of, if not THE most iconic voice in cinematic history. I can't think of anyone in my life who wouldn't know a line spoken by him. One of the all time greats. The world is a little darker without him in it.

[emma-dennehy-presents]

Rest in Peace, James Earl Jones. I can not put into words how much this man's work touched my life.

[burningfudge]

Same vibe.

[juhnkit]