The Lion King: It is impossible to CGI photorealistic lions who can also emote!
Chronicles of Narnia:
the worst is wanting to create and create and create but being trapped in a body that is so so so so tired
my oldest boba fett headcanon, from before i even knew what a headcanon was, is that this man, who regularly whiled away the hours on kamino as a boy reading novels and who has a job that often requires him to do nothing more than stand around looking menacing for hours on end, definitely has an e-reader app installed on his helmet
jokes on you, i'm all of the above!
"people who stay up at night are either insomniac or In love" people who stay up at night read gay fanfiction on AO3 what are you on about?
(Cody meets Obi-Wan for the first time.)
Obi-Wan, offering a hand to shake with a smile: Hello there, my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Though I suppose from this point forward you’ll be expected to refer to me as General Kenobi.
Cody, fresh off of Kamino, with no idea how to interact with other beings, much less one he finds attractive: Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk around again, this time without my helmet?
Obi-Wan: …
i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.
he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.
they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.
when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.
during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.
the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’
Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.
Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.
amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.
every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.
totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself
i've said before that i love the english teacher jason todd headcanon but a similar one i think is very much overlooked is art teacher damian. in fact, i don't think i've ever seen it before. but i think it would be AWESOME hahaha
Damian: *carrying a large box* occasionally, my own sophisticated vernacular does not do justice to a situation . . . so to paraphrase one of my students . . . this sucks ass Jon: *grabs box, then raises brows* i was going to tease you for that . . . but yeah. this thing is freakin' heavy. what is this??? damian: *looking EXTREMELY tired* clay. for my students to make . . . sculputes out of. jon: *weary* why the hesitation? damian: more often than not their sculptures are more bomb than sculpture. jon: . . . ah. how does that work exactly? damian: *staring into the distance* now why would i trust you with the knowledge of how to make a bomb, jonathan.
Damian: welcome to class, students. today we will be participating in one of my personal favorite mediums, painting student: what do we paint? damian: anything but batman. i know you enjoy memorializing vigilantes in your art, but he angered me last night and as such the sight of him would sicken me students: one brave soul: what did he do? daminan: *straight-faced* he ate the last of the peanut butter in the pantry and failed to buy a new jar. now, for the paintings--
jason: *groaning, head resting on the papers strewn over his table* god, my students are so dumb damian: *framing and hanging up art pieces gifted to him by his students* i cannot say i relate, todd jason: *under his breath* fuck you too
damian: *peering over jason's shoudler at grading jason is doing* what is all this? the red marker? jason: *chugging coffee like its a shot* mistakes i have to correct for them damian: *frowns* that is a lot of mistakes. jason: how 'bout you? how'd your students do on their assignment? damian: well, jenn forgot that we'd moved on from abstracts, so her landscape appears as if it has stepped foot out of a picasso rather than the monet it should have been, but i have graded her with the abstract scale rather than the realism given that it was a simple mistake. her usage of tones and textures impressed me, and while the expressionism and irrealism is slightly off-putting in a landscape, i have found it quite pleasing to the eye. jason: i have no fucking clue what you just said but okay
bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
there are many secrets that could be weaseled, tortured, threatened, or bought out of me. but my ao3 history?
Nah. that's between me and my fbi agent, and until i have to answer for each and every sin and crime i have ever committed, it's going to stay that way.
Y’all Cody’s armor in Bad Batch is grey. I haven’t really been keeping up the Bad Batch, but Howzer was also a part of the empire, and he didn’t change his armor color. This is all to say grey painted armor in Mandalorian culture symbolizes mourning a lost love.
like am I supposed to take this information and not think Cody’s mourning Obi-wan? Is this not hashtag codywan hashtag confirmed?? Fellas??
I accidentally hit the send button before I finished typing, but how are you?
hi! I know it's been a long while, just, um. My life's been a little messy for the past few months. I was mostly on here because of fanfic stuff, but got a ton of anon stuff in my inbox about how pathetic my writing was, so kinda was pulling out of that, then things with family and school kind of all blew up at the same time, and my best (and only irl) friend who, well we'd talked about dating at some point, but we kind of broke things off and stopped talking to each other, so. yeah. this a kind of me just taking a quick look around for old times' sake. everything's just a mess right now. if I haven't posted by september, i'm probably off for good, one way or another. thanks for messaging me. i don't really have friends. he was the only one i've really had for the past 5 years. it's... nice. sorry for dumping this on you. i'm just not in a great place right now.
--elizabeth