#cam helping out

[godsfaultycreations]

one drawing of señor hueso (featuring leo annoying him) for the Rise August Art Challenge!

@rise-august-art-challenge

Day 11 - Señor Hueso

hueso has had enough of leo's shit. no turtles were hurt in the making of this drawing

[umbrellacam]

oh no, now I'm imagining Dick opening jars for 14-yo Tim during Prodigal

Tim doesn't even think to ask him at first; his dad wasn't at home often enough for it be a habit, and like hell was he gonna ask the older boys at boarding school to open stuff for him like he couldn't do it himself :/ and while staying at Wayne Manor, well, with Alfred around the jars were without fail already open by the time they reached the table.

so when it's just the two of them, fending for themselves both on Gotham's streets as Batman and Robin and in the Manor's kitchen as Dick and Tim, it doesn't occur to Tim to ask.

Dick watches him wrestle with the jam jar like it's Killer Croc for a long minute, chin propped in one hand and eyebrow raised in amusement. Then he just reaches over and plucks it out of Tim's grasp with a casual, "Here, kiddo. Let me."

now, Dick could tap the jar against the edge of the counter, all around the stubborn lid. or he could run it under warm water. or gently twist his warm hands round and round the metal rim to heat and loosen it that way. teach Tim all the standard tricks of the jar-opening trade.

but for some reason, he doesn't.

instead, under Tim's startled, expectant gaze, Dick finds himself taking firm hold with the vise grip of his trapeze artist hands, flashing the kid a showy grin, and just twisting with a hard flex of muscle.

the loud pop isn't half as satisfying as the beam of admiration on Tim's face.

Dick should feel silly. jeez, it's not like he suplexed a Rogue right in front of the kid or caught him out of a 10-storey fall or anything.

(who's more ridiculous - Tim for being impressed by so little, or Dick for feeling so undeniably smug about it?)

(is his life seriously such a mess that wowing the baby Robin with feats of basic domestic competence counts as a win? seriously? get a grip, Grayson.)

"yeah, yeah - I loosened it up for you!" Tim laughs, but when Dick hands him the jar with one hand and scrubs vigorously through his hair with the other, he can still see his little brother's pleased smile as he attempts to duck away.

so Dick keeps doing it. Tim always insists on having a go at it himself, first, but shoving stubborn jars at Dick with that expectant look quickly becomes automatic.

it's a Thing. like many Things about Tim, it could easily be annoying, but somehow it manages to be endearing instead.

maybe that's just how little brothers work.

Dick does teach the kid how to do laundry and fold clothes and replace broken windows and cook basic meals for himself because he's not about to do all the work in this big old empty house, but he never does teach him how to open stuck jars.

[civetside]

more funny doodles!!! this time harrow nova version

[ayatotiddies]

Going absolutely feral guys

Just got so many new Rafe ideas 😩

[afreakingmilkshake]

what if i made a samurai morpho gijinka. what then huh. and what if it were actually a monstrous shapeshifting shadow creature that can change into many forms, including its samurai form that it uses to reap souls on the day of judgment.

[gaytobymeres]

Benoit Blanc's similarities to other fictional detectives

Specifically Holmes, Poirot and Columbo because I'm most familiar with them and saw many of their characteristics in Blanc.

Impeccable clothes - Poirot

Cigar - Columbo

Post-case slump - Holmes

Eccentric - Holmes, Poirot, Columbo

Detection as a means of helping people, not just for the sake of solving crimes - Holmes (and Poirot and Columbo to a slightly lesser extent)

Fun name – Holmes, Columbo, Poirot

Referred to by surname (almost) all of the time, even by close friends/partners – Columbo, Holmes, Poirot

Kindness to and deep respect for vulnerable women – Holmes, Columbo, Poirot

Said to be the best detective in the world – Holmes, Poirot

Fun American accent – Columbo

Hates rich people who abuse their financial influence – Holmes, Columbo, Poirot

Polite – Columbo (of course Holmes and Poirot can also be very polite but I don't feel like it's a defining characteristic for them the way it is for Columbo)

Rude to mean rich people in a way that is so polite the horrible rich people don’t realise they’re being made fun of/talked to rudely – Holmes, Poirot

Politeness and diplomacy that is often pushed too far and they explode into explicit anger – Holmes, Columbo, Poirot

Drama in resolution – all three to varying degrees, but especially Poirot

Understated and affable – Columbo

Involved in self-contained stories – Columbo, Poirot, Holmes (though a couple of Holmes stories do link closely to previous stories)

Uses the word 'afoot' – Holmes

Gay – Holmes, Poirot (I'll let you decide if this applies to Columbo)

[demon-mochi]

“There Was a Little… Accident.”

[weekend-whip]

Hand slipped

[rarestdoge]

I have a love-hate relationship with drawing on notebook paper punts him

[daisychainsandbowties]

thinking a normal amount about a treasure planet au. Beatrice on her solar kiteboard, doing the daredevil flip sequence framed against the setting sun and then getting hauled kicking and screaming back to her parents’ house in manacles with a defiant expression on her perpetually dirt-smudged face.

climbing out the window at the first opportunity to go down to the dockside inn, making nebulous plans to steal her kiteboard back but ending up down at the edge of the dock staring past her boots and into the mists. gripping tight to the wood beneath her as she looks up at the sky and dreams of anywhere but here, of stealing a skiff to get off this planet. a reluctant twinge at the thought of going alone.

Bea with all her star maps and her intricate knowledge of spaceships and their solar sails and how to navigate out there where the artigrav net is all that stands between you and floating through nothing, forever.

startling when she hears the familiar sound of someone booking it down the pier on wooden crutches. night has already started to speckle the sky above, and as she listens to the thunk of the crutches on the pier, Bea thinks of the complicated metallic lattice she has on her desk at home, partly disassembled because she’s still trying to work out parts of the engineering. Ava’s birthday is in a month.

she has to stay that long, and then she’ll leave. she will.

turning to watch as Ava races towards her with soup stains on her shirt and messy hair jammed flat beneath a ‘pirate’ hat she bought off of a traveling salesman last year. the tricorn wobbles precariously on her head as she moves. Beatrice just waits, a slight smile on her face.

there are bruises high on each of her arms, from the pincer-like grip of the police bots, manhandling her away from her kiteboard to snap manacles around each wrist.

she rubs at the skin there, but ignores the bruises.

when Ava arrives, a little out of breath, Beatrice holds up a hand so she can help herself down onto the pier. there’s no water beneath them, only a few hundred meters of empty air and curling mist.

Ava keeps one hand on Bea’s and the other on her shoulder, letting the crutches clatter down between them as she sits.

“Mom says you got arrested again,” Ava says cheerfully. “She says they’re threatening to send you to prison.”

Beatrice shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind it, so long as my parents did not visit.”

Ava’s fingers are covered in bright red band-aids, from chopping vegetables all day with her poor hand dexterity. Beatrice watches the colours blur as Ava punches her in the arm, right on the bruises. “Liar, I know you’d miss me.”

her arm throbs painfully, but Beatrice’s expression is carefully neutral as she responds. 

“I might.”

she stays with Ava that night, both of them reading her old book with its floating images of ships and canons and pirates leaping from vessel to vessel. Captain Flint, materialising out of empty space to steal away gems and gold, “the loot of a thousand worlds.” Ava traces the projected lines of the solar sails with her fingers as they flicker into being. 

Beatrice has repaired the book over and over, making the colours brighter and sharper. the tiny shapes of pirates all made up of light. Ava has the book open on Bea’s chest as she lies next to her, legs all entangled in the sheets they’ve kicked off because the night is so warm.

she seems oblivious to how Beatrice’s breath hitches at almost every touch.

they’re almost asleep when they hear the explosion, a ship crashing into the cliff-side, tumbling over and over before they hear the pop and hiss of heated metal. a bloom of smoke outside the window.

Beatrice gives Ava a piggyback ride down the stairs just before Ava’s ‘mom’, Suzanne, emerges with her pulse-rifle primed, hair loose around her shoulders.

they stumble into the yard and discover a pirate, a robot, still bleeding from a wound in his abdomen, crawling from the wreck of his ship. Beatrice heaves a shard of twisted metal away from him and finds the surface slippery with blood.

behind her, Ava sways a little, shivers in the cold air, but she’s still standing when Beatrice turns back to her.

the dying pirate tells them almost nothing useful. he’s half-mad, cluching at Beatrice’s shirt until the seams tear at the collar, then turning to Ava. he fetches out a lockbox from his ship, blood spilling onto the ground at the movement. unlocks it and takes odd sphere from inside.

it drops into Ava’s palm as he rasps, “Whatever you do, don’t let them find it.”

then he wheezes, shudders, stills.

they stare at him, Ava’s free hand finding Bea’s, holding tight.

“Is he… dead?” Ava’s voice in the silence and the dark.

“I think so.”

then, in a burst of light and sound, in a shockwave of displaced air, a ship plummets down out of the clouds, pulling up an instant from the ground.

this second ship looms down out of the sky, pirates dropping from it and suddenly Suzanne is screaming at them to “GET INSIDE” from an upstairs window as she takes potshots at the misshapen shapes swarming down lines of hempen rope.

the air lights up with orange and yellow as explosions ripple down towards the crashed ship, towards the inn. Bea flings one of Ava’s arms around her neck and sprints for the door, Ava holding the sphere (or map?) tightly against her chest.

she sets Ava down gently onto one of the bar stools, runs back to barricade the door. her face is flushed, streaked somehow with engine grease and robot blood, which is black and slightly acidic. 

they exchange a wide-eyed look, too much meaning in it to parse as explosions rock the floor. Ava has both hands clutched around the sphere. 

they both almost scream as Suzanne runs down the stairs in a blur of dressing gown and gun. she has Ava’s crutches in one hand and her rifle in the other. she kisses Ava quickly on the forehead, “Thank the tides you’re safe.” leaves her with the crutches and then goes to fetch an ancient-looking blaster pistol out from behind the bar, presses it into Beatrice’s hands. “You know how to use this?”

“No!”

“Aim it away from your own face.”

and then there are pirates all around the house, glass breaking and fire crackling. Beatrice takes up the rear, pistol pointed at the front door as it bulges under the pressure of pirates flinging their bulk into it again and again. 

they climb out of a window, Suzanne producing a kitchen knife and jamming it into the neck of a pirate loitering uncertainly outside the bolted shutters. there, covered by a tarp, is Suzanne’s old motorcycle with a sidecar attached. lantern-bugs scatter out from under it as Suzanne throws the old tarp away, gestures for Beatrice and Ava to climb in as she covers them with her rifle.

there’s a roar from somewhere in the dark and Suzanne fires a shot, hops onto the motorcycle and revs the engine. then they’re moving, pirates parting before them like the ocean neither of them have ever seen, the vast bodies of water that don’t even exist on this planet.

they seek refuge with Jillian, an archaeologist who frequents the old inn, claiming that she can’t make her coffee taste of anything but soap. she examines the orb, reluctantly passed into her hands by Ava, her and Bea wrapped in an old blanket, sitting by the fire in Jillian’s immense study.

Jillian fiddles with it for an age before sighing, looking almost angry with herself.

“I can’t… seem to make this work.”  

Ava holds out her hand, silent. “let me try,” and Beatrice makes a face at Jillian when she hesitates.

the pirate gave the sphere to Ava; it’s hers. 

it seems much larger in Ava’s small grip. she looks down at it for a while before her fingers start to move, slow but gathering momentum as she presses the little grooves and switches and indents on the sphere. 

until it lights up, showing a map of the known universe, and parts of it that are unknown.

“Is that-” Beatrice feels her words drop away, like the ground beneath the pier where she has passed so many hours sitting with Ava’s hand in hers.

Ava turns to Beatrice, eyes bright as a pair of stars, “It’s treasure planet.”

[godsfaultycreations]

we're back for day two of the Rise August Art Challenge !!

@rise-august-art-challenge

Day 2 - Disaster Twins

today on the menu is donnie throwing pieces of a baguette at leo, who is being chased by seagulls. disaster fr

[birrdify]

hhejheeh hold on ill do stuff for my inbox again after i draw thsi little scenario where smg3 and 4 go ice skating (i know. cold, icey place where it's just the two of them very good idea birdy) for a video ,,, maybe like theres a sponsorship/endorsement thing and they do that for fun idk. 4 brings 3 along because they had a little bicker moment "i bet i can ice skate better than you" or something (yeah they both suck and have little to no experience) and they end up grabbing each other while flailing around LMAAOO "AHHHH SMG4 STOP GRABBING ME" "YOU'RE GRABBING ME!!!"

based on my little ice skating outing w/ my friends earlierX] one of them follows me hii hhello!!! hope your ass doesnt hurt too much from falling !!!!

[biracy]

I have done nothing but make tlt picrews for like two days. I need to be put down posthaste

[tarmac-rat]

The Cog and the Rod

[transsexula]

Every year for the month of October I make a movie calander- one horror movie a day, every day, for the entire month. My problem now, is that after three years of doing this- I'm starting to..... well, run out isn't the right way to put it... but it's starting to feel like I've seen most of the big hitters.

So the question I'm throwing out there is:

Fans of horror, what movies would you reccomend for this year's October watch?

I'm looking for anything and everything. I will watch silent black and white films. I read subtitles and I'm not opposed to hunting down a niche foreign horror/thriller. PLEASE DO NOT GIVE SPOILERS I would like to go into the movies blind (trigger warnings are very welcome, though)

[cementcornfield]

Here's an awful screenshot I took a while ago of Ja'Marr streaming where you can clearly see some of the jerseys he has hanging up. With Justin's front and center 💜