#one sheet movie poster | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hussyknee · 1 year

Note

i'm so confused rn, can you explain the goncharov thing?? i get off tumblr for five minutes

(Edits closed as of 28 Nov.)

Lmaoooo

Nah I getchu. So this post has been circulating for like two years:

Link to post.

But yesterday, it had inspired someone to do this:

Link to post.

Next thing I knew there were fake Letterboxed reviews.

Goncharov moodboards. Really good ones.

Link to post.

Meta analysis. So many fake meta essays. Disturbingly good ones. And of course the memes. (Edit: HAVE I SAID THIS SHIT IS DISTURBING)

As you can see, the myth just started to grow, characters and ships and tropes being added one after the other, almost bizzarely without contradiction, until there was enough of shape to the whole thing for people to start posting fanfic about it on AO3. "No beta we die like ice-pick Joe" is already a tag.

Link to post.

It was hilarious in the beginning, but the way it's developed within less than a day, kind of like it's being willed into existence, is freaking me out a bit. We're toying with powers beyond our comprehension. 😂😂😂

Link to post.

Of course, there could be an ulterior motive as well.

Link to post (tags mine).

Edit: guys, please tag these posts "unreality" so people with disassociation issues can filter them out (not this one, this is an explainer). <3

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

Edit 2: Aparently the boots in the original post are actually referring to a movie called Gomorrah that came out in 2008, directed by Mateo Garrone, based on the Scampia Feud. And other people had also been making posts about the fake movie for a while before the poster took off.

found by @thepotch

Edit 3: Explainer: why did those boots have this movie on them anyway?

Edit 4: Alt text added to all images courtesy of @valentineish ❤️

Edit 5: Turns out tumblr has done this kind of thing before. Nine years in this hell place and I had to have "Squiddles" and penis smp explained in the replies.

Edit 6: This post collects the Lore so far.

Edit 7: Lynda Carter (real one)/ earns more/ Tumblr cred.

Edit 8: Holy shit y'all we have the theme music. With sheet music. And it's on Spotify!

Edit 9: THERE IS A TRAILER WITH THE THEME MUSIC

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

I made this post 18 hours after the movie poster went up. Closed edits 27 hours after first posting. So all of the above happened within 45 hours of the movie poster going up.

Edit 10: Google document live-compiling all the lore so far (Day 3)

Edit 11: Masterpost of Goncharov soundtracks (Day 3)

Edit 12: Entertainment news articles covering the Gonch-posting (real) (Contd from yday)

Edit 13: The music from the masterpost all compiled into a 31-minute original score with video edits on YouTube (edit: unfortunately taken down)

Edit 14: Staff's Goncharov art showcase for Tumblr Tuesday

As of closing on Day 3 there are 371 works in the AO3 tag.

-----

Updating with Day 3 shenanigans I missed yesterday:

Edit 15: Goncharov TV Tropes page

Edit 16: Ethics of Gonchposting

Important PSA 1 (how to reduce harm to Tumblr's neurodivergents)

Important PSA 2 (reality affirmation, anti-bullying)

Important PSA 3 (why you should stop trying to vandalise legit information sites)

Edit 17: Character lore from beezlebub whose poster they originated from

Edit 18: What we know about/ Director Matteo JWHJ0715 (#unreality)

Edit 19: Link to post with screenshotted and described NYT article (scroll down) and this golden exerpt from BuzzFeed: 💀

(alt text included)

End of Day 4 there are now 485 works in the Goncharov tag on AO3

----

Didn't get to update this on Day 5, so these are the Day 5 doings:

More trailers!

Trailer 1 (My favourite)

Trailer 2

Trailer 3

Trailer 4

I also just found out about the Goncharov Game Jam.

It appears this opened a day after after the meme took off.

Goncharov was first entered into Wikipedia between Day 4 and 5 (attempts to vandalise it with fake info don't count, incidentally – please knock that shit off) under List of Internet Phenomena. This was then expanded into its own Wikipedia page at the end of Day 5 because, according to the talk history: "the topic now meets the notability threshold for its own artice due to significant coverage in The New York Times and other sources cited." We're on Wikipedia, people!

And then we made The Guardian half a day later. So while the meme is definitely dying down to embers by now, it still stays winning.

YouTube channels with episodes on the meme:

InformOverlord (4:30)

Lessons in Meme Culture (2:43)

End of Day of 5 there were 511 works on AO3, and End of Day 6 (today) there are 556.

🚨BREAKING 🚨 from Martin Scorsese's daughter's TikTok (real actual)

tw: unreality:

We did it you guys!

Clarification: Francesca Scorcese asked her Dad about the meme and Martin played along. Please reblog this PSA to help Tumblr people with psychosis. Thanks.

Final edit: Day 8. Media reactions to Scorcese's TikTok (everyone from Forbes to Vulture). That one Tumblr user who said they'd do a screenplay if their post got notes has promised to shoot a single scene, but please don't be dicks just because you reblogged it; leave them alone until they get around to it themselves. As of end of Day 8 there are 609 works in the AO3 tag. I love all you lunatics. Peace! ❤️

#goncharov 1973 #reasons i can never leave this hellsite #we've ascended from pirating criterion movies to straight up manifesting them into existence #get on our level twits #knee of huss #goncharov #tumblr lore #tumblr memes #tumblr culture

62K notes · View notes

conceptalbum · 1 year

Text

#hangman #sam upton #film #cinema #movie #poster #design #artwork #caspar newbolt #version industries #peter stormare #annabeth gish #film poster #movie poster #one sheet #egg #lizard

1 note · View note

acelvrr · 1 month

Text

Op characters + their rooms (modern au)

pt.1 ft. Ace, zoro, law

Ace

- whoooow it stank

- LED lights are always on blue cuz my mans always in his feels.

Only turns them red when he’s tryna get the mood on if u know what I mean 😽

- For your own mental health don’t look under his bed or else you’ll get flashbacks to the Tacos you had last Tuesday

- only cleans his room when you are coming over (his definition of cleaning is throwing everything under his bed)

- has his tv opposite his bed so you guys can cuddle and lie in bed whilst watching a movie

Netflix and chill 😼

Zoro

-Room smells like body spray mixed with a hint of lavender because of his lavender sleep mist

-Basic ass room

Argues that he doesn’t need to decorate it because all he does is sleep and workout in there

- everything is either black or grey

- has more dumbbells in his room than clothes

- Buys a super expensive mattress that ‘helps with back problems’. (he got scammed by Nami)

-then shortly after got scammed again, this time into buying overpriced pillows.

Would’ve only bought one if he wasn’t with you

- Has a framed picture of you on his side table and he gets flustered everytime he looks at it 🤭

Law

- clean freak and also very freaky

- changes his sheets everytime someone comes over

- practically lives at his desk, he’s so studious 🤭

- his desk can get veryyyy clattered and messy

- has a towering bookshelf full of textbooks and other books he hasn’t read yet

- whilst he’s studying he always has candles lit , humidifier on and white noise playing in the background

-He rarely ever switches his ‘big light’ on, always used warm toned lamps and is big on using natural light.

-has a few posters up but nothing too fancy

- you are the only person he actually likes having over

-also has a mirror opposite his bed because he’s freakyy

but moves it before going to sleep cuz he claims he doesn’t want any paranormal activity to take place

(he’s just a nerd that spends wayy to much time on Reddit reading about niche topics)

421 notes · View notes

somekindofpoet · 11 months

Text

Missed Connection 6

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! smut, language

A/N: I'm aware the Barbie timeline doesn't match up but tbh it was so funny I couldn't not do it. I stayed up way too late writing and editing this so there are 100% going to be mistakes here. Heed the warnings above...happy Pride month you filthy animals <3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A stack of papers is slapped on the desk in front of you, the force of it fluttering your hair. Jenna’s hand is on your lap, gripping your fingers tight.

Sam’s office is larger than you thought it’d be, more extravagant. Proof of her success hangs on the walls, degrees, photos of her clients, a picture of her with Obama. It smells like leather and jasmine, and it screams prosperity right in your face.

Clearly, Sam is excellent at her job. Which is probably why she’s fuming right now.

“Have you two seen this?” She asks, gesturing at the stack of papers.

You wince, glance down at the top page. You fight with all your might not to snicker. Jenna’s fans were clever and bloodthirsty. You succeed in not laughing, but as soon as Jenna sees the photograph, she snorts, quickly covering her mouth, her eyes wide and apologetic.

The pages are screenshots of memes from Twitter and Instagram. The top one is a photo mimicking the new Barbie movie posters of her and Ken’s mugshots. The problem? The faces have been replaced. With yours and Jenna’s.

Jenna’s photo is brilliant, possibly one you took from the Met Gala. She’s smiling from ear to ear, looking proud of herself. Above the photo is her name, and below it, in the photoshopped mugshot board, the text says ‘UNDERAGE DRINKING’.

Yours is your actual mugshot, and you’re half amused, half furious that someone dug it up. Your name is above the photo, and on your mugshot board it says ‘ASSAULT’. It’s amusing, but the funniest part is the tweet attached to it.

“Y/N could assault me any day, no one’s blaming you Jenna babe!”

When the screenshot was taken, there were over 300k responses to it. You’re sure that number has tripled now.

Jenna reaches over, her eyes bright with curiosity, and flips to the next page. It’s filled with replies, most of them agreeing with the original tweet. When you see the one at the bottom of the page, you lose your battle to remain collected and join Jenna in her giggling.

“Jenna better be careful. Y/N has an assault charge and she can fuck it up, I can tell. If I were her I’d be extra protective of my pus-“

You don’t get to finish reading it because Sam slaps her hand over the page, glowering at you.

“Oh come on, Sam,” Jenna says between laughs, “they’re so funny!”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, “They’re vulgar, and it’s hurting your image.”

You glance at Jenna, your laughter quickly quelled by Sam’s irritation. She huffs and slouches back in her chair, her hand pulling away from yours to shrug.

“Change my image then.”

Sam presses her fingers over the bridge of her nose, an action you’ve deemed to be her signature move when she’s speaking to Jenna.

“The goal was to avoid the child star gone wild trope, J. You’re killing me.”

“Sam, please,” Jenna scoffs, dropping her arm to rest behind your shoulders, “it’s not like I’ve gone full Miley. Maybe it’s time the world realized I’m an adult now.”

Jenna’s arm over your shoulder and her fingers softly grazing your back through your shirt have you entirely distracted. It’s been a week since you confessed your crimes to her, and you’ve been practically inseparable since. She worked with Sam, and they chose to post a photo of the two of you to her Instagram, casually announcing your relationship.

Since then, the internet and the media have exploded. It didn’t take long for the tabloids to publish your rap sheet, but luckily Sam had a plan for that. The day your misdeeds were printed, a ‘mysterious’ leak was also posted about why you had an assault charge. The large media groups tried everything they could to scold Jenna for dating you, but her fans went absolutely feral for you.

So feral, Sam was worried it was getting out of hand. Hence the meeting in her office.

“J, your mother is going to actually murder me. And you can kiss any teen movies goodbye,” Sam says, pulling the papers back toward her as she notices you eyeing them again.

Jenna nods, “That’s fine with me. I don’t want to play sixteen-year-olds anymore. And you don’t work for my mom, you work for me. I’m sure she’ll love Y/N when she meets her.”

You blink hard, gulping at the thought of being introduced to Jenna’s family. Luckily she’s too focused on Sam to notice your nervousness.

Sam sighs, “You’re right, I work for you. So I’m telling you, we need to do something to get them off this,” she gestures at the pictures, “and on to the next thing.”

“What do you have in mind?” Jenna asks, leaning forward with interest.

Sam scratches her chin, “Not sure yet. But I’ll call as soon as we come up with something. Until then, please, for the love of god, keep it PG.”

You can tell Jenna wants to fight her on that point, so you rest your hand on her knee, coaxing her down. She glances at your hand, biting her lip. Looks over at you and nods at Sam.

“Fine, PG. Got it.”

Sam eyes you warily, “And you?”

You frown, taken aback, “What about me?”

“PG, understand? No funny business, no brawls-“

“Sam!” Jenna exclaims, but you smile and squeeze her leg gently.

“I understand. These hands will remain inside the car at all times.” You say, lifting your hands to show Sam your palms.

She narrows her eyes at you. You can’t tell if she’s fighting a smile or if she wants to strangle you. Probably a bit of both, you figure.

“Alright, go on then,” Sam flips her hands at you, shooing you both out of her office.

The minute you’re in your car, Jenna is pulling you over the center console, her lips practically fused to yours. The last week consisted of several dates, a lot of kissing, and some heavy petting, but you hadn’t had sex yet.

You both agreed to take things slow, especially after the background check mishap. But it was becoming exceedingly difficult, especially when every touch caused both of you to jump into overdrive.

You pull back, and Jenna whimpers, her arms still tight around your neck. It takes everything in you not to lean back in, not to crawl into the passenger seat and strip her down, paparazzi be damned. But you promised Sam, and you’ve already done enough to tarnish Jenna’s good girl reputation.

You chuckle, press a quick kiss to her pouting lips, “We promised to keep it PG.”

She pouts harder, allowing you to pull yourself a little further out of her grasp, “What if I had my fingers crossed?”

Her sulking makes you really laugh, shaking your body with giddiness, “I would not be able to sleep at night if I knew your mother might see pictures of us having sex in the car on the streets of Hollywood, Jenna.”

Her expression lights up, her fingers trailing down your arm igniting goosebumps on your skin, “So you were considering it, though.”

Your eyes widen, you shake your head, “No…I…uh.”

She quirks a brow at you, her smile telling you she sees right through your mumbling.

You drop your head, smiling bashfully, “It may have crossed my mind.”

A full smile breaks across her cheeks, her dimples on full display. You know your eyes must be something close to pitch black at the sight, your mind subconsciously trying to take in as much of the image as physically possible. She leans back in her chair, still smiling, pulling your hand into her lap as you drive away from the curb.

You’re anxious to get home, the promise of a movie night on your mind—the possibility of moving your relationship a little faster even more present.

There’s tension crackling between the two of you the entire drive back, unspoken but understood. When you lead her into your front door, you’re half expecting to be shoved onto the nearest horizontal surface. It may have happened, too, if not for Mr. Burton.

The second Jenna walks through the door, he comes bounding off his shelf, his black tail held high, and his ears pricked up. The cat had fallen for her, he seemed to enjoy her even more than he tolerated you. It would make you jealous if it weren’t so damn cute.

“Mr. Burton!” Jenna cries out, scooping him up and holding him on his back like a baby.

He purrs happily, pressing his head into her chest, his front paws curled under his chin. You’ve never seen him so docile. It makes you laugh softly, earning a glare from both Jenna and the cat.

“Don’t laugh at him,” she says, “he’s just a baby. Aren’t you?”

He meows on cue, and it’s enough to make you roll your eyes and leave them in the entry way. You settle into your couch and turn on the tv, flipping through apps and searching for something good to watch. It’s only noon, but you had no other plans, so a movie sounded like the perfect way to spend the afternoon close to Jenna.

She carries Mr. Burton into the living room and delicately places him on his cat tree with a kiss on the top of his little head.

“I think he loves you more than me,” you say, feigning irritation, but your soft smile gives you away.

Jenna curls into your side on the couch, smiling triumphantly, “Of course he does.”

You gaze down at her, “Can’t blame him, I guess.”

She wraps her arm around your waist and rests her head on your shoulder, “What’re we watching?”

Your cursor hovers over the Scream franchise, “Let’s watch this one.”

“I love the first one!”

“No I want to watch the ones I haven’t seen yet,” you say, squeezing her side.

She shoot’s up, reaching over to steal the remote from you. You hold it out of reach, laughing at her terror.

“We can’t watch those ones, y/n. Seriously! I’ll crawl out of my skin if I have to see myself on that screen.”

“Awh come on J, I haven’t seen them!”

She scoffs, reaches across your body for the remote again, “Absolutely not. Watch them when I’m not here.”

You laugh around your words, teasing her, “No, I like to watch Wednesday when you’re not here. Have you seen her? Good god, she’s sooo-“

“If you finish that sentence, I will walk out of this house.”

She’s fully leaning over you now, still struggling to wrestle the remote from your outstretched arm. It’s cute, watching her struggle, or it was at first. Now she’s in your space, you can smell her perfume, and you’re rapidly losing interest in watching a movie. She realizes her proximity at the same time you do, stopping her struggle to turn and look down at you.

The remote hits the floor when she climbs into your lap, her knees on either side of your legs. Your breathing picks up as your heart begins to pound. Her eyes are dark, her lips parted. She blinks once, so slowly it’s like watching her move in half time.

The tension between the two of you snaps almost audibly, and everything gets very hot, very fast. Her hands are everywhere, her mouth on yours, her body pressing into you. You slide your fingers under her shirt, her skin warm on your palms. When she sighs into your mouth, it’s like you’ve just swallowed absinthe, the way it makes your entire body burn.

Her shirt hits the floor faster than the remote had, and your lips leave hers in favor of her throat. She pulls you into her, pushing her hips forward hard into yours. You both groan at the pressure she’s creating, igniting the pace like gunpowder.

Your kisses grow sloppy, trailing down her neck and over her chest. You’ve both abandoned taking it slow at this point. All you want is fast, fast, fast. Her pants are unbuttoned, and your shirt is halfway off your head when her phone rings.

You slow your movements, glancing over to it, buzzing on the couch next to you.

“Ignore it,” she says, breathless and pulling you back to her lips.

It stops ringing, and you’ve nearly forgotten it because she now has your shirt off and her lips on your neck. And it rings again.

She stops her lips and growls into your skin. The effect the sound has on you is embarrassingly immediate. Your fingers press into her sides, trying to relieve some amount of the pressure building in your lower abdomen.

The phone rings again, and she sighs, sitting up and reaching over to grab it. She stays in your lap, and you sit there dumbstruck, watching her analyze the phone.

“It’s Sam, I’m sorry,” she says, rolling her eyes and answering the call.

When she presses the phone to her ear, the skin of her chest is far too tempting to resist. You lean forward, kissing her there as she drops her head back, not stopping you.

“Hello?” She answers, a little breathy. “Sam, it’s not-“ she gasps as your lips travel to the top of her bra, but she still doesn’t stop you. “It’s not a great time right now.”

The hand that isn’t holding the phone runs across the back of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair and keeping you in place.

“Speaker? Seriously can this wait like, a few hours?”

You pull back, your eyebrows raised. A few hours? The thought sends you into a whole other gear. When you start to lean forward again, she pulls her hand from your hair and places it on your chest, stopping you. You look up, and her face is more serious, she shakes her head.

You want to pout, push your lip out like a child at her self control. Instead, you stay where you are, waiting. Hoping the call ends soon.

It does not. She pulls the phone from her ear and taps the speaker phone button.

“Okay, you’re on speaker, she can hear you,” Jenna says, her tone clearly irritated.

“Great,” comes Sam’s voice, “we’ve come up with the plan.”

When neither of you speak, she carries on, “You’re going to Coachella.”

You frown in confusion. What did Coachella have to do with anything?

“I know, my sisters are coming with me,” Jenna says.

“And so is y/n. It’s the perfect way to get people talking about the two of you, hopefully without mentioning the mugshot. And they’ll get new pictures which should put them off on a new tangent.”

All you heard was that you would be meeting the Ortega sisters. Anxiety courses through you, nervousness at the thought of being introduced to the family. Jenna sees it cross your face and rests her hand on your shoulder, her thumb rubbing your neck. She looks down at you, awaiting your answer.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, wide eyed and clearly anxious.

“No,” Sam says, “pack your bags. You’re going home, J.”

——

The entire two hour drive to Coachella, you’re a nervous wreck. Your hands sweat, your heart beats wildly, your mind races.

Jenna being in the passenger seat helps, some. She spends most of the ride assuring you her sisters are going to love you. The other parts of the ride, she’s asleep with her hand wrapped in yours and her head knocking into the window every time you hit a pothole.

When you pull into the hotel parking lot, you gently shake her awake.

“Hey, Jenna, we made it.”

She lifts her head, blinking sleepily. She squints out the windshield, eyeing the hotel.

“Mmkay,” she says, then proceeds to rest her head back against the seat and fall asleep again.

You chuckle, your heart growing at least three sizes at the sight of her sleepy face. You turn the car off and climb out, pulling your bags from the trunk and leaving them near the passenger side. You open her door and squat down, shaking her again.

“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re here. Let’s go get checked in.”

She grumbles, yawning and stretching, “Okay, okay. This bed better be as comfortable as your car.”

You finally drag her to the counter, shocked at the lack of a crowd around the hotel. No one knows she’s here yet, or you would have been swarmed on your way in.

You wait close behind her, waiting your run to check in. Once the receptionist pushes over the key cards, Jenna hands them off to you, still bleary eyed. She starts to head for the elevators, but you call after her.

“Are you going to wait for me to get my room?” You ask her.

She frowns, jerking her head back, “You have the key right there.”

You look down at the key, look back at her. The puzzle finally falls into place.

“Oh…oh. We’re sharing a room.”

“Do you not want to?” She asks, running her eye with her knuckles.

“I…I…I mean…if you want to then…I’m okay with it.”

She smiles, rolling her eyes playfully, “Then let’s go.”

You follow her like a puppy on a leash through the hotel lobby and into the elevator. She sways, still heavy with sleep. It’s only 9 PM, but she looks ready to collapse. You pull her into your side, letting her lean into you, and she wraps her arms around your waist, resting her head on your chest.

She beelines straight for the bed before the door even closes in the room. You settle the luggage in the armchair and at the door of the bed and wander to admire the suite.

“This place is so nice,” you say, mostly to yourself.

“Yeah, you can appreciate it tomorrow. Come lay with me, I’m so tired.” Jenna whines from the bed.

You turn and see she’s made herself comfortable over the blankets, resting high on the pillows. She stretches her arms out, reaching for you. Who are you to say no to her?

You kick your shoes off and climb onto the bed, letting her pull you over to lay on her chest. She runs her fingers through your hair, humming quietly.

“Thanks for driving. I don’t think I would have made it.”

You snort, “You were asleep before we even got halfway.”

She hums in agreement again, “Car rides are my weakness, I can’t ever stay awake.”

You don’t respond, just smile. Her shirt is soft on your cheek, her nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

“Are you still nervous about tomorrow?” She asks you.

You close your eyes, nodding against her silently. It’s hard to feel anxious when she’s scratching your head, her heartbeat steady in your ear, and her breathing lulling you into a peaceful relaxation.

“Don’t be anxious, baby, they’ll be nice. I promise.”

Your eyes shoot open, your heartbeat ticking a notch faster. You push yourself up on your elbow, picking your head up to look at her. She smiles curiously at you, trying to figure out what caused you to move.

“What did you just call me?”

Her face turns the most gorgeous shade of pink as she realizes what she’d said. She bites her lip, looking a little unsure.

“Do you not like it? I’m sorry I can-“

You don’t let her finish her apology. You’re on top of her in less than a blink of an eye, your lips on hers in a frenzy. She’s quick to respond, her hands sliding up your shirt and her nails scratching at your back. You sit up and pull the shirt over your head. You don’t plan to slow down, but the look on her face gives you a moment for pause.

She looks perfect. Absolutely, perfectly divine. The freckles across her nose and cheeks, the stray hairs hanging in her face, her soft brown eyes, and her lips. Oh, the things you would do for those lips.

Your admiration is cut short when she pulls you back into her, almost rough in her haste. You’re not sure when her clothes come off, somewhere in between your tongue slipping into her mouth and her lips pressing into your neck. It’s all a lust fogged haze, cloudy in your mind until you’re naked and your stomach is pressed between her legs.

You want to go slow, savor the moment of your first time together. You want to go fast, rush into the ecstasy that is sure to come. Your indecision is dissolved when she rolls you onto your back, taking the control out of your hands.

You think you might be dreaming, when she trails kisses down your ribs, her hands gripping your thighs. Normally, you’d feel uncomfortable being so out of control, but the look in her eyes is enough to keep you planted.

She kisses the inside of your leg, looks back up to lock eyes with you, “Is this okay?” She asks, her voice low.

You gulp, nodding. You can’t trust your voice not to crack, so you keep your mouth shut. But it doesn’t stay that way for long.

You gasp when she presses her lips to your clit, and you nearly black out when she licks an exploratory stripe through you. She wraps her hands around your legs, her hands squeezing the tops of your thighs as she licks you, sucks you. She moans between your legs, and you see stars, your fingers reaching down to intertwine with hers.

It would be embarrassing, how quickly you’re writhing underneath her, if you had the wherewithal to care. But you don’t, and your back is arching off the bed, and your fingers are squeezing hers, and your throat is raw from how heavy your breathing has grown.

You’ve wanted this for longer than you care to admit, and it’s even better than you’d imagined. With a breathy sigh, you’re cumming under the pressure of her mouth, turned to absolute putty in her hands. She kisses her way back up your body and you’re flipping her over before the shivers of your orgasm have even left your bones.

Any inclination to savor the moment is burned away by the flames raging in your stomach. You have to have her. Now.

The kisses you trail down her body are hasty, sloppy, hurried. You’ll enjoy the expanses of her skin later, right now, you only have one thing on your mind.

The sound she makes when your mouth meets her is like the origin of the universe. It’s unexplainable, it’s perfect, and it’s all for you. You want to split apart, give her every piece if she just keeps making those sounds.

Her hands are in your hair, tugging at your scalp. You reach up, your palm running up her arm, asking her to be patient while you enjoy her. Your lips wrap around her clit, and you suck. She lifts her hips into you, seeking more from you. She’s unraveled and greedy, and it’s everything you hoped for and more.

She whimpers when you lift your head to kiss her thigh, hips lifting again, wanting. Your finger dips into her entrance, and you look up at her. Before your eyes even find hers, she’s already nodding, pulling at you. You push a finger in and ascend, your lips crashing into hers as you feel her tight around you. You give her a second before adding another, swallowing her moans when they leave her mouth.

She feels so good around your fingers, you wonder if it’s even possible that she’s enjoying this more than you. But the way she squirms under you, and her nails raking down your back tell the gospel truth of her pleasure.

She jerks her head away, gasping for air. You lick at her pulse, kiss the sweet and lightly salty skin of her neck. Her chest presses up into yours, her nails digging into your skin, her groaning in your ear. Her orgasm is intense and long, and it has her sighing your name between inhales and exhales. It’s the most moving hymn you’ve ever borne witness to. It’s poetry.

She slumps into the bed, and you’re close behind, falling over on her side. You’re both silent for a while, gathering yourselves and slowing your breathing.

After a few minutes, she rolls over, half her body resting on yours. She presses a kiss to your sternum before placing her hand there and eating her chin on it. You smile down at her, still high on your bliss.

“I’m calling you baby every single day from here on out,” she says, her voice practically a sigh.

You lean down, kiss the top of her head, “Clearly, I hate it.”

She giggles, kisses your neck, and sighs again. She settles in on your side, you can feel her eyelashes flutter closed on your skin. Her breathing evens out so fast you’re in awe at how quickly she falls asleep.

You ruminate on the events of the night, hanging on to every detail as long as you can before you’re falling asleep too.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #missed connection

1K notes · View notes

illustraction · 1 year

Photo

GONE WITH THE WIND (1939) - HOWARD TERPNING‘s MOVIE POSTER PAINTINGS (Part 1/10)

As the Art of movie poster is now nearly non existent, having faded into oblivion, since the studios decided to replace great illustrated Art with insipid photoshopped images and compositions that do not translate any of then emotion of the movie, I thought it would be great to focus one some of the greatest movie poster Artists

Among those giants, HOWARD TERPNING (born in 1927) stands at the top of the pantheon with no less than 86 movie posters created and painted between 1960 and 1973 making him one of the most sought after poster artists of all time.

His name is not known to many but his oeuvre certainly is as his Art graced so many posters for Oscar winning classics.

This 10 part Blog just grazes the surface of his gigantic oeuvre with a selection of my favorite posters of his, starting with the now iconic kiss / embrace painting he created for the 1967 rerelease of one of the greatest movies of all time, Gone With The Wind.

So impactful this image is/was that it directly inspired Artist Roger Kastel for the Han Solo / Princess Leia kiss that illustrated the Empire Strikes Back poster!!!!

Above are posters from Japan and the US (Click on each image for details)

BRING BACK MOVIE POSTER ART!!!

Director: Victor Fleming Actors: Clark Gable, Olivia De Havilland, Leslie Howard, Vivien Leigh

All our HOWARD TERPNING posters are here

If you like this entry, check the other 9 parts of this week’s Blog as well as our Blog Archives

All our NEW POSTERS are here

All our ON SALE posters are here

The posters above courtesy of ILLUSTRACTION GALLERY

#illustraction gallery #illustraction #Howard Terpning #gone with the wind #Clack Gable #rhett butler #Vivien Leigh #scarlett o'hara #Olivia De Havilland #leslie howard #Victor Fleming #movies #Movie Poster #vintage #film #1938 #1967 #Japanese movie poster #one sheet movie poster

20 notes · View notes

weirdlookindog · 9 months

Text

The Vampire Bat (1933)

#the vampire bat #lionel atwill #fay wray #dwight frye #melvyn douglas #1933 #1930s movies #frank r. strayer #one sheet #horror movie poster

50 notes · View notes

helena-bottom-farter · 10 months

Text

Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night 2, 1987

Dir. Bruce Pittman

#80s horror #80s nostalgia #childhood favorites #hello mary lou: prom night ii #prom night #1987 #lisa schrage #wendy lyon #horror films #slasher #supernatural horror #mary lou maloney #she should've been a super villian like freddy or jason #women in horror #bad girls #female antagonist #one sheet #movie poster #vintage posters

3 notes · View notes

kellermandesign · 1 year

Photo

City of God (2002) Fernando Meirelles, theatrical onesheet / movie poster design by Kellerman Design.

8 notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— SEMPITERNAL

SUMMARY : part II of gimme half. vanilla is a basic flavour. but sometimes it’s just the right thing for mornings like this.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), p in v, smut, unprotected sex, fluff

WORD COUNT : 2.2k

A/N : bring me the horizon song title. ah, the second day of January, getting closer to Dean’s bday, it will be the best day of my life or the worst. I have ocd (so does my mom) so idk what’s normal lmao Xxxx

It must have all been a dream.

She would never go to her neighbour’s house. Not when they were supposed to hate each other. Not when it was freezing cold. Not at night. Not close to Christmas…

He was very pretty though, in her dreams. Still, so pretty. Irresistible. Hot. Frustrating. Adorable. A million lovely things. It felt very real. So real.

His lips. All pink, warm, soft, and sweet. His hands. Rough, warm, calloused, and skilful. His skin. Freckled, covered in scars, tattooed, hot. God… she wanted that in reality, too. To feel it against every inch of her skin once more. She especially wanted what’s between his legs.

Were her sheets always this cold? This thin and… not downy at all?

If she could return to her dream. That would be nice. Making friends with her enemy, Dean… Well, making love is more what it was. Very rough, desperate, hot love.

She grumbled sleepily, lifting the sheet up her body. Trying to get her arms warm, to stop the cold from getting through the openings. Something stopped her, something hard behind her, and she didn’t want to wake up.

And wait… why was the window in the opposite direction?

She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room, the beige and white bed sheets that were definitely not hers. The pictures and posters on the walls were unfamiliar…

She sat up on the bed slowly and twisted her body cautiously to peek at whoever was sleeping beside her.

Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped slightly.

Dean.

She shut her mouth and smiled, trying not to laugh at the events that occurred the night before. They were definitely not a dream. For her bravery, she deserved a treat. Maybe six.

He really did look pretty.

Those muscular arms holding his pillow, skin freckled and lightly tanned. The sheets clung tightly to his hips, that tiny, narrow waist of his. So jealous. And… oh, God, he wasn’t wearing anything.

His lips were parted slightly, pink and swollen from sleep, maybe from all the kissing they were doing the previous night. He had the prettiest lashes, so long, thick, curled naturally. What even was he? Those gorgeous freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. His messy hair looked so soft.

Peaceful. Relaxed.

The sunlight made him look even more divine. Honey and gold, a verdant forest, a soft flower in a meadow. Springtime in the winter. That was Dean.

She looked around his room, she was completely naked. Some warm clothes and fluffy socks to keep the cold at bay would be nice.

She opened his drawer to look for some socks, sliding the top drawer out. She blinked at the contents inside. A vibrating cock ring stood out from the other things inside, in rose pink. She chuckled. There were a few candy wrappers, jolly ranchers, unused condoms in the front, a steel gun over books. Cute. There were old movie tickets, a Bob Seger cassette tape, Crime and Punishment, Persuasion, The Lord of the Rings, and 11/22/63. He’s so hot.

She closed it quietly and opened the second one. One half had perfectly folded, plain black t-shirts and the other half had only white t-shirts. She pulled out a black shirt from the top and put it on carefully. She took a deep breath of the scent of the softener that remained and sighed. Yum.

She opened the third and final one. Finally socks. They were neatly organised, folded, tightly fitting in rows and columns. Blue penguin socks caught her attention, but so did the pink ones with otters, the purple ones with avocados, and the green ones with giraffes. Could he get any more endearing?

She picked the boring black ones at the back. What if the fun socks were special to him?

She got out of his bed, walking quietly across his very cute bedroom, and into the bathroom. His very clean bathroom.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Thank God for the shower she took with Dean last night. No raccoon face from her eyeliner this morning. But she was definitely sore. Good sore.

He’s so… hospitable. And a billion other things, too many lovely things to list. She laughed quietly to herself, turning the water on in the sink to wash her face.

Maybe she shouldn’t get too ahead of herself with these thoughts and feelings. Last night was fast, blurry, heated, and emotional. Things could change, she knew that better than anyone. Morning clarity. After sex clarity? Who knows.

It would be impossible not to have marks over her body after the night they had. She turned the water off, gently shook her hands in the sink, and used the shirt to pat her face dry. Curiously, she kept the shirt up, and stared down at her body.

There were bruises on her hips the shape of his fingers. And Reddish-purplish marks on her breasts, sternum, and stomach, even higher up on her collarbone. There were bite marks on her shoulders that stung to touch-

“Sorry about those,” Dean’s raspy morning voice made her jump. She dropped the shirt and crossed her arms over her chest, smiling timidly at Dean. She didn’t know why. After the hot night they had together, being seen naked the next morning should be the last thing to make her this flustered.

“I’m not getting in the way of your secret escape, am I?” He changed the subject, teasingly smirking at her. He pushed himself off the doorframe. Unfortunately, he was wearing a soft grey robe tied loosely around his waist, some grey slippers, and his hair was a cute-slash-sexy mess.

“No…” she replied softly, running her fingers through her somewhat messy hair. It still felt wet… maybe she should have stopped Dean from throwing her into his bed after their shower, but he seemed more than thrilled to bury his face between her legs. God, that stubble on his jaw felt amazing between her sensitive thighs.

“Good,” he mumbled tiredly, smiling down at her.

He was irresistible. She could already feel heat forming between her legs, wetness seeping from her entrance, and her heart pound quickly in the casket of bones the closer he got.

Maybe it was those pretty green eyes of his, the burning fire in his gaze simmering deep within the golden specks. He checked her out from head to toe slowly, shamelessly, devouringly. Why would he have any shame after the night they had?

Her body reacted to him embarrassingly fast. Like two atoms, she ached to be fused together with him. Being in his presence just felt right. It felt fiery, more now than last night, more than when he was asleep. When he was asleep, he was more than adorable, but now… She wanted him on her again.

Her skin burned like acid rain had dripped down over her body, but it was just his hungry eyes. It was the memory of his mouth, his tongue, his lips, and his teeth. All marking her, making her his own.

Her lungs ached for slower, deeper breaths as he sucked the oxygen from the room with that deep, husky voice of his. He left her breathless, with those soft eyes and tender smile.

All he did was put toothpaste on the brush he gave her last night. He smiled when he gave it to her, his fingers brushed against hers, like jumpstarting the dead battery of a car.

She tried to hide the sharp inhale when she took the toothbrush from him by biting her lip. He seemed to like her reaction, a smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to and neither did she.

She watched him do the same to his own toothbrush and slowly, wordlessly, he started to brush his teeth.

“Cute cock ring,” she told him casually, and began brushing her own teeth. He almost spit out the toothpaste and saliva when he laughed, a very beautiful laugh that made her insides warm and melty like cheese in a burger, or butter on pancakes, or whipped cream on waffles.

She was hungry.

“You looked through my stuff,” he stated, a mouthful of toothpaste still in his mouth. He continued to brush his teeth, staring at her the whole time rather than looking into the mirror. His eyes were sparkling, and not just because of the cold winter sunlight.

“I was cold,” she shrugged, then spit out what she had left before continuing to brush. He spit everything out at last, regarding her with a smirk.

“Guess I shoulda been a better host.” Dean finished brushing his teeth and she did soon after as well, waiting for him to finish freshening up from the doorframe.

“You more than made up for it last night,” she grinned, catching the smirk on his face, the sudden dreaminess that washed over his green eyes. Her insides twisted excitedly and he finally looked at her with those soft verdurous eyes.

“Are you still cold?” He teased when he finished, reaching for her waist and gently tugging her forward, and away from the doorway. She shook her head ‘no’ and smiled up at him. “Too bad,” he hummed, biting his lip. “You chose boring socks,” he pouted, then leaned down to kiss her.

She smiled against his lips. The kiss somehow felt more… warm than last night, and… well, like the birth of a star. Warmth bloomed in her chest, like a flower kissed by sunlight in the morning. It was like being reborn, like breathing the cleanest air.

“I was trying to be considerate,” she mumbled when he pulled away from her lips. He tilted his head with a confused smile, and moved her backwards, leading her back to his bed.

“Considerate?” Dean slowly lifted the shirt, his fingertips teasing her warm skin as he slid it up her body.

“Read my mind,” she whispered, throwing the clean shirt on his desk when it was around her wrists above her head.

“I don’t read minds,” he grinned down at her, pecking her lips. She hummed softly, amused just because he made her smile, and untied his robe. He humoured her anyway, staring at her as she climbed onto the bed, her soft hands moving up his torso slowly exploring, memorising, worshipping. “You… are so cute,” he teased, leaning forward to kiss her again.

She pressed her lips against his, moaning quietly against his mouth. She pushed the robe off his shoulders and he threw it over the small, sage-coloured sofa he had placed by the window that was opened to her house.

“That’s not reading my mind.” She buried her fingers in his hair and began crawling backwards, her warm tongue tracing his plump lips. He cursed softly against her mouth, kissing her back with as much force, and climbed up the bed with her.

“I told you,” he panted, lowering his body over hers once her head fell onto the pillows, “I don't read minds.” She pulled Dean down, closer to her, arms circled around his neck, legs parted for his hips to fit perfectly in between.

“I think you see through me,” she whispered, lapping at the red mark positioned on his pulse, making him moan softly. She couldn’t believe she felt insecure about it at first, but now, it was hot that he could read her, that he could figure her out in seconds. For however long he's been hunting, she had no doubt he was much more clever than he led on.

“You think wearing a pair of what might be my favourite socks will make me… sad?” He tried, barely moving away from her mouth. She snickered upon releasing how ridiculous it sounded out loud, she nodded anyway.

“I’d be upset,” she shrugged, sliding her hands down his back, his taut muscles shifting beneath her hands.

“Exactly why I said you’re cute,” he told her softly, rocking his hips against hers. She shook her head in denial, dragging her lips back up to his. His cock slid through her soaked folds, teasingly nudging her entrance, tortuously rubbing her clit. “You hungry?” He asked, leaning on one arm placed by her head.

“Dirty intent with that question?” She teased, nibbling his bottom lip. He laughed deeply, pressing his cock into her, slowly pushing in.

“Wanted to make ya breakfast,” he huffed, moaning with her when he pulled out gently and pushed back into her warmth. “So… breakfast?” His hand travelled freely down her sides, tenderly brushing against the bruises on her skin.

“Only if you’ll make me breakfast often,” she played quietly. With a husky moan, he slid his hands back up her sides, thumbing her sensitive nipples. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, smiling at her words, the tightening of her walls around him taking him to the brink of delectable release and delirious insanity.

“Only if you’re mine,” he rasped, taking her wrist to slide his hand into hers, pressing it into the pillow, and above her head.

“Yes,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, slipping her other hand into his hair. He lifted his face to stare into her sincere gaze, brought his freehand between their bodies to rub circles on her clit.

“To breakfast or being mine?” Dean inquired, rolling his hips swiftly into her. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close, and drawing his lips closer with her hand clutching the short hair behind his head.

“Yes,” she murmured, drawing a soft laugh from him as she pressed a deep kiss to his warm lips.

➥ summer’s stellar gaze

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797 @laylaackles @fanfic-n-tabulous @kristophalis @mrlonelycat @taylortots-world @evznackles @ohnosy @juicyballsworld

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

dean’s 45th birthday celebration masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction

376 notes · View notes