f u finals

(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.

svt meets f(x) :: performance unit as serenity red light

pic cr [x]

other units :: vocal unit :: hip hop unit :: bonus

anonymous asked:

Prompto just wants a pretty picture of you with a pretty flower. It's such a rare opportunity to see that side of you.

Fine. Here.

shit his fucking smile

anonymous asked:

Ignis crushing on chubby Prompto, and totally wanting him to know that it's ok that he has slight soft spots on his body, like his thighs, his cheeks, and his stomach. I just want Iggy to show Prompto he loves him even with some extra yumyum on his bones.

i love you for this anon

(i also realize that this went from crushing to full out established boyfriends BUT I GOT A LITTLE WILD OKAY IM SORRY)

warnings: nsfw-ish! (non descriptive)

him? //

he’s soft in all the (wrong) places. despite his best efforts his stomach is still quite pudgy, is noticeable when he wears unflattering outfits. his love-handles bounce when he jumps, spill over his belt when his shirt is tucked in. the skin of his underarms still wobble and shake when he waves, his thighs are still thick and mushy and rub together when he walks. his calves are too wide, his cheeks are too chubby, his butt is too big.

prompto can scarcely understand how he manages to snag a boyfriend like ignis. who’s tall and well sculpted, from years of combat training, who appears fashion forward and prepared to model for photographs at a moment’s notice. his understanding is even worse when he lies across said boyfriend’s bed, room thinly lit by request, and listens when the man calls him beautiful.

“no,” prompto says, voice the only thing small about him, and he can barely feel anything other than the frantic flickering of his heart. “i-i’m not, not really…”

and really, what else is there to say? ignis sits back on his heels, giving prompto amble space to move if needed to. to leave, or to run. he’s made it clear that prompto’s comfort is important, and it’s yet another thing that prompto cannot understand, how a person can be this sweet to a person like him.

“i’m afraid i must disagree,” ignis says softly, “you are absolutely gorgeous.”

no. not him, with the soft stomach and flabby arms and fat thighs. not him, who couldn’t wear any outfit without outlining the parts of him he couldn’t lose with just dieting and running alone. when prompto replies with nothing but a low noise, choked in his throat, ignis settles himself next to prompto instead. slowly, he places a hand on prompto’s side, at the hem of his shirt where it’s riding up. his thumb touches the small strip of skin visible and–

“may i?” he asks. prompto nods. his hand slips under, and prompto shivers. despite everything, he remembers how they ended up in this exact situation, right here, and it makes him feel (wrong.)

ignis touches his side and nothing else, rubs circles that are surprisingly soothing. he watches prompto closely before pushing the shirt up slowly, bit by bit but never removing it. prompto knows it’s for his comfort. the thought itself is nice.

with his eyes shut he can’t see ignis’ reaction. to his soft belly (wrong) or the stretch marks, running along his sides (wrong). seconds pass in silence before there’s a huff of air, ignis exhaling softly, and then fingers begin to run across his skin. his stomach jumps, and he knows he’s shaking but can do nothing to stop it.

“i truly think you’re beautiful, prompto.” ignis speaks like he’s breathless. when prompto hazards a look up at him, his gaze is focused, watching the movements of his own fingers across prompto’s pale skin like he’s witnessing something wonderful and precious.

it feels him with an emotion he can only describe in the warmth flooding him suddenly, from his ears to his toes, biting away at the anxiety settled into his bones.

with express permission, ignis uncovers him, bit by careful bit. the man kisses him all over; his throat, his stomach and sides, down to his inner thighs. his touch is gentle, and it’s a sort of intense attention that prompto has never experienced in his life and would be hard-pressed to avoid. prompto hears in low, desire laden whispers, that every piece of him is divine.


the flabby skin, the miscolored stretch marks, the rolls of fat that poke out? that give when touched, that wobble when shaken?

prompto does not understand, not even as he comes undone under ignis’ fingers. he only thinks, in a haze, that if this was how the man he looks up to the most could see him, that maybe he could try to see too.

Gladiolus Headcanons:

Originally posted by ffxvcaps

  • Definitely a big time snorer. Seriously, it’s like sleeping next to a goddamn bear #Gladdy Bear. How it is he still manages to get a good nights sleep half the time is beyond the rest of the guys. 
  • Will actually live off of nothing but cup noodles if you do not stop him otherwise. Ignis found this out the hard way after stopping by Gladio’s one day and offered to cook. Although he was more than aware of his friend’s strong love for cup noodles, it was obvious after opening the third and fourth kitchen cabinet that he had highly underestimated it. Gladdy, pls, a man cannot simply live off of cup noodles and beer alone. 
  • Despite being the big bad badass that he is, the moment allergies hit, this man is  d o w n. The man can take on a giant ass behemoth and magiket soldiers with no problem. At first it can seem like this guy is unstoppable. That is until allergy season roles around. Afterwards this unstoppable force is reduced to a sniffling, congested and sneezing mess of a man. Because of this, he’s always sure to stock up on allergy meds and kleenexes. He also knows what meds actually work and actually help relieve symptoms. He’ll usually recommend the behind the counter stuff, mostly since it’s usually the only good stuff that actually works.
  • He got stung by a wasp once and was down for the count. It didn’t take long for this mountain of a man to come crumbling down.
  • “Tell Iris I love her.”  “Gladio pls it was just one little sting.” “Remember me, Iggy.” “For the love of Shiva, Gladio, just get up and let me treat it, you over grown man-child.”  
  • Is secretly a big fan of romance novels. Especially the cheesy ones with Fabio on the cover. Yeah, those ones. Though he’ll typically cover them up with fake covers to avoid getting any odd looks. Guy’s gotta keep up some level of reputation. 
  • Two favorite things in the world: cup noodles and camping. Combine the two together and you have one happy ass Gladio. Should his s/o be there with him, the two sharing noodles while being alone together under the stars, and he wouldn’t think of place he’d rather be at that moment. He has his three favorite things all in one, how can he not be happy? 
  • Lowkey likes to sing in the shower. What he sings will depend mostly on his mood, whether it’s some form of rock, country or a song from a musical…
  • Also secretly has a love for plays and musicals. Being a big book worm, he really likes watching some of the plot and character development, and the music accompaniment only makes it better. Secretly buys himself the soundtracks and merchandise. He’d take Iris to a few every now and again, stating it was purely for Iris and to make her happy because she wanted to go see it, and totally for no other reason.  And he totally wasn’t humming the main overture on the drive home. Call him out, and he’ll just say he has it stuck in his head. Yup, sure, whatever you say Gladdy.  
  • Could definitely see him being a fan of Hamilton or Rock of Ages. Just saying.  
  • Definitely a dog person. Loves their loyalty and their overall affectionate nature. Plus they’re great for morning walks and exercise. If they’re able to be trained to fight alongside in battle, even better. Though they’ll definitely either have to be of the short haired or hypoallergenic variety because allergies.

Originally posted by imagine-ffxv


While Miiverse continues to have a terrible community and is overrun with petty children and content that could only be described as “The unholy child of Deviantart and Furaffinity”, the Miiverse stage continues to have great pieces of art that slip through those cracks and impress us every time. Hopefully 2016 will be a better year for the Miiverse stage. (Probably not)

Samurai Jack’s Ending

Holy shit that ending was abysmal. I wonder where Ive seen literally all that shit before?

Girlfriend was actually a shard of an endgame threat

Everyone came together to help stop the big threat

Giant robots were there

The dead best friend comes back as a force ghost

and the most fucking obvious of all




God fucking dammit Tartarsauce, THIS is the finale you wanted?

Well guess what bitch it was already done better, and it had more impact on the viewer too. Fucking hell, now I wish Samurai Jack had never come back. Gurren Lagann had time to build up Nia, she wasnt some stupid boring character with no point, and regardless of your opinions, she WASNT shoved into the show after a decade of waiting for it to have a finale. 


Really fast doodle I did while being unable to chill tf out. I wanna make a ref of a few outfits bc fuckin @secretlycrispybaps did some really cool ones //idfk how to hyperlink or w,e, on mobile???// and I thought it would be neat to steal that idea.

Will fix proportions if and when I go over it digitally sometime in the next week. Wanna do his pj outfit ref too

E D I T https://secretlycrispybaps.tumblr.com/post/163928728031/outfit-1-outfit-2-outfit-3-im-really-inconsistent Thats the idea i stole
A summary of the Hard Rock Tour of NSP

-NateWantsToBattle opened up the show 😍
-Doctor Sungs birthday!!
-Starts the show with Cool Patrol yEA
-Dan finally giving in and singing Ninja Brians renege jam
-butt s t u f f
-Arin getting jealous that he got 3 bras and Dan got 4
-dan doing that heart thing with his hands

It was a really good day yesterday