because of the reason

anonymous asked:

Don't average kids just discover their straight more easily than gay kids discover they aren't straight anyway? Most gay kids spend their childhood years assuming their gay crushes are just thinking someone is cool, mostly because they have a mom and dad, so that means they wanna imitate their parents to a degree as part of regular child development. Then during or after puberty, the difference between liking someone a lot and being attracted to them becomes too distinct to be ignored. That's h

did macklemore kill them before they could finish this ask 

7

😔 request • in which jealousy happens because jungkook is spending time with another idol & things take a dark turn 💔 

 (i may continue this in another set of texts… we’ll see 😅) 

bts fake text requests open 💌

so i’m watching the magicians and what should pop up, but this establishing shot

of Havemeyer Hall, the lab building I work in, masquerading as a convalescent home?

The two ground floor windows on the far right are literally my lab? There’s a nonzero chance that whenever this shot was taken I was sitting on the other side of that window?

anyways, that’s weird

Even in a world of heroes Los Santos is too corrupt for any true good to prosper. The Supers who come to fight the good fight soon fall, retreating from an unwinnable battle, being brutally murdered and made public warning or, worse, plunging fast and hard into the ever growing ranks of villainy that rule the city. And really, is there anything more dangerous than a villain with a cause? A baddie with all the self-entitled righteousness of a former hero, the taste for glory, for public deference, for power.

It’s not like there are rules, no handbook for the Powered to follow, checkboxes for being good vs being evil, no set destiny determining that one must be one or the other but things always seem to play out in the same way. Humans aren’t half as complex as they’d like to believe, all follow the same broad paths sooner or later; the ones who hide themselves away, the ones who take what they want, and the ones who think to stand up and protect their idea of justice.

When the Powered came into the public eye there was fear, jealously, there were calls to register, to lock up the powerful, demands to go to any extreme to ensure the protection of the Non-powered. Not all Powers are equal, for every terrifyingly notable gift there are dozens of negligible abilities, little more than party tricks or cosmetic changes, but most Non-powered didn’t care to see the difference. The lack of rhyme or reason scared them, the fact that unknown powers may have manifested in anyone from a childhood friend to a nephew, a nun to a super-max criminal, newfound supremacy with no regard for class or wealth. Many of the Powered were talented beyond belief, some stronger than anyone could deem reasonable, but the Non-powered would always have numbers and the ever reliable quality of hating anyone who was different.

Overall it was handled poorly, even in areas not screaming for imprisonment or execution, places where Powers were seen as gifts, amazing and awe-inspiring, society simply lacked adequate infrastructure to support so many new abilities. Prison cells were no longer adequately applicable to all people, some were now immune to necessary medicines, the limits of human weight and strength had gone out the window and airspace no longer belonged solely to machines. Worse though was the fact that there was nothing in place to protect the Powered from the hateful masses, nothing to help identify and channel the newly Powered into appropriate support and education programs, nothing to mitigate the growing tensions and unease. And, yes, nothing at all which could combat the inevitable pushback, fight off the onslaught of Powered coming for law-enforcement and society alike, not just actual criminals but also mismanaged children and the inescapable furious retribution from regular Powered when it all goes wrong.

It was a dark time, Powered persecuted without cause or mercy and Non-Powered constantly looking over their shoulders lest they be the target of rebel vengeance, a world-wide uproar which eventually gave rise to the Supers. Because there were of course Powered who believed in justice, who wanted to help, who stood up to stand up against their own kind when things got dire and led the charge to bring peace and understanding between Powered and Non.

So things eventually settle, an uneasy truce, but there will always be those who use their Powers for their own benefits, society be damned, just as there will always be the do-gooders using their Powers to police how others behave. It of course takes the general public no time at all to start referring to them as Heroes and Villains, the comparison too close to ignore despite the general lack of spandex, but there was never going to be such a clean division.

Clearly those who think it’s simply black or white have never had to define the Powered who were scouted for shady corporations or government wet work, never had to draw the line between political or military ‘heroes’ and vigilante ‘villains’. Clearly those people had never been to Los Santos, where the heroes could be just as bad, could be far, far worse, than the villains had any hope of being.

It’s all well and good for the villains in Los Santos, at least a while - better to have the heroes get on board than have them chasing you down and ruining your every plan -  but it’s getting a bit crowded to be honest. It’s hard to stretch your wings as a bad guy when there’s no one left to push back against, when on every job you trip over half a dozen bozos running their own gigs. When the levels of depravity some of these assholes stoop to start giving all the regular villains a bad name.

So, something has to be done, and if the good guys can’t hack it, the bad guys are going to have to. Or at least that’s how Ramsey sells it when he’s dragging a pack of semi-reluctant crooks together, cherry picking powers and personalities to build what will be an undeniably formidable crew so long as he can get them all onside. Considering Geoff’s gift of telepathy and thought implantation, limited though it may be, getting everyone to sign up and play nice with one another isn’t quite as difficult as one would expect.

Some of his choices are crooks he’s already worked with, Powers tried and tested, those who Geoff trusts more than anyone else on earth. Most notably of these are his ever faithful right hand, Jack, who manipulates wind and weather, and the ineffable Lindsay with her flaming wings. Then there’s Matt Bragg’s technological genius, Trevor’s ability to defy notice and walk unseen, Steffie’s unearthly level of multi-tasking and information analysis, and the host of loyal Powered friends they bring to the table.

Even the ringers who Geoff’s not actually trialled have been vigorously investigated, carefully selected from the hundreds of possible Powered criminals in Los Santos. He’d built up some rapport with the foreigner, Free, who’s been running with two other Powered, a little crew he won’t leave behind, not that Geoff actually wants him to. He was after Gavin’s power, inherent luck and the manipulation of probabilities an indispensable quality in his endeavour, but he’d be a fool not to snatch up Gavin’s friends while he’s at it. Jones with his control of heat, of fire and ice, and Dooley’s ability to change his own density at will makes the pair near indomitable in a fight, an unquestionably powerful duo to have in your corner. And last, but by no means least, was the terrible Vagabond, the corrupted healer who takes people apart from the inside out, a living nightmare even in Los Santos. Ryan was by far the hardest to win over to the cause, but once he’s in Geoff knows they’re golden.

It’s quite a line-up but even with that security there is no scattergun approach, Geoff’s done his homework, has villains and ex-heroes categorised by the danger their powers pose and the difficulty in taking them down. The first few jobs are so quick and ruthless the targets have no time to see them coming, to prepare proper defences, no chance to combat the array of abilities they’re faced with. From there word gets out, but while they lose the element of surprise they’re still in the unique position of being united; it’s so rare for those who are Powered to truly combine forces, rarer still in a group of more than two or three, and without any backstabbing or infighting Ramsey’s collection have found themselves to be near unstoppable.

Between them they have the best plans, horrifyingly efficient fighters, have infiltration, manipulation and extermination completely covered. Hell they even have a preternaturally skilful wheelman to get them all the hell out of dodge when things take a turn. Perhaps best of all, though, is the fact that to some degree they have the support of the city; law enforcement, struggling Supers and civilians alike, who’ve noticed this new group shaking up the powers that be in the underbelly of the city. Who might not all be actively helping but certainly aren’t hindering, stepping back and giving Geoff and his people free reign to finally fix up the wicked city.

So for a moment they are beacons, a spot of light pushing back the darkness in Los Santos, persevering where others have been crushed, relentless in their quest to take out the worst elements of the city. It is, of course, difficult to be swayed from the right path when you were never on it in the first place, can’t fall from grace when you never had any to start with. Ramsey’s gang seem invulnerable to the filth and corruption of Los Santos simply because the darkness was in them all along, their goals have never been anything close to altruistic.

Some still believe, see only what they have intentionally been shown, think Ramsey’s crew vigilantes, perhaps too harsh, too violent, but only out of necessity, the strong hand of justice the depraved city of sin has been crying out for. They think the attacks will cease once the city has been cleansed, cheer on their counterfeit champions right up until the moment they finally realise that they’ve been played, that Ramsey and his gang of reprobates will never be the good guys.

Because no matter what the idealists would like to believe, no matter what other crooks might sneer and spit, no one who’s paying attention could truly think Ramsey’s crew had gone light side, not by a long shot. They take down other villains, yes, but not in ways the so called good would approve of, not peacefully, not humanely, not even remotely quick, clean or painless. They take down other villains, sure, but for their own benefit, for their own power and greed, their own amusement. They take down other villains but they don’t spare the cops. They take down other villain’s but they aren’t saving civilians, aren’t restoring peace, they don’t return stolen goods or misappropriated funds, don’t seek to inspire children or bring safety back to the streets.

When all the Powered formidable enough to have half a chance of beating them have been overthrown, Ramsey and his crew are right there to see their plan through. They’ve not been cleaning up Los Santos so much as they’ve been claiming it, taking full control over the city that has been thought for so long to be utterly untameable, all the while ensuring there will be no one left to challenge them. An empire built on fallen bodies, tacitly approved by the masses, a violent take over sold under the guise of justice. And in that they have found a whole new way to be devious, a fresh take on villainy, giving hope to those who’d thought themselves hopeless only to dash it all away again. Those false heroes, those reprehensible Fakes.



Main Crew Powers | Support Crew Powers

anonymous asked:

Falsettos has changed my life through giving me a musical family. I have loved musical theatre with all my heart for about a decade now, and this is the first musical I've found that is truly about a family desperately trying to figure it out, which is validating and comforting and gorgeous in unprecedented ways. None of us will ever have all the answers, and the show explores why and how we to answer them, and that's perfect.

This is amazing. I really, really love and appreciate how no one really knew exactly what they were doing and how they were just stumbling through life day to day. You like… never really see that? And it’s so realistic and just comforting to watch.

Just a reminder that I’m an Adult™ and if that makes you feel uncomfortable feel free to:

  • unfollow me
  • ask me to unfollow you
  • block me

I won’t get mad or anything. It’s important to make sure you feel comfortable and secure.

Kiss of life

2

I imagine the family skate was….A Lot for Jack.

Would you consider professional flirting a power? Idk

Zen’s the guy you’d go to if you need some help in hand-to-hand, blade-to-blade combat. Replication is his main thing, and it comes in handy when tackling the bigger, badder villains. The clones however, only possess his base proficiency at combat and flirting and none of his other powers. He also has a sporadic Psionic Intuition, which allows the team to see glimpses of the future (psychic dreams anyone?). Albeit fleeting, Zen tends to be extra sensitive to the bigger-scale, future-altering, history-making events. He might not be able to see how well you’d do in a test, but he’d definitely see Godzilla rising out of the water a couple days or weeks before it happens, so don’t worry. :D

Adoptive Muscle Memory is less of a power and more of a skill he developed. Quick perception and hella body-eye coordination allows him to study your moves and learn them with time. Short battles are of no use to him, but if the duel is extended or you come back for a rematch, then watch out bc he’s probably got all ur moves figured out. 

Yes, I did the math and estimated that his sword would be about 0.84m long in proportion to his height, which I think was about 5″9. I’m extra that way.

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.