like this is not serious

Why is it that so many C/helley fanfictions feel the need to make GLaDOS the villain somehow, yet ChellDOS fanfictions don’t ever seem to make W/heatley the bad guy?

It’s almost like they have to demonize GLaDOS and erase all her development in order to make W/heatley look better.

Originally posted by gameraboy

guys i think i accidentally downloaded the entire tim wright wiki page???

Dear mansplaining morons who think "Batman could totally win a fight with Wonder Woman"

Are y'all high?

Bruce 

- an average human dude
- has no superpowers to speak of
- trained fighting for like, 10, 20 years tops
- uses fancy but breakable human-made gadgets

Diana

- literally a deity
- “only a god can kill another god”
- trained fighting for 500 to 2,000 years (depending on who you ask) under Antiope, the greatest general in the history of a legendary warrior race
- can fly
- can literally level a building with a single punch
- can control lightning
- able to take punches by someone capable of crumbling a gun with their bare hands
- can toss a tank with her bare hands like it’s nbd
- has magical weapons originally made for & owned by gods

Being a man doesn’t give you the ability to defeat a deity who’s trained for centuries under the best of the best, has magic powers, and magic weapons, you twats.

Being a man doesn’t make you better than a deity.

What Does Colorism Look Like?

- Songs that praise light skin by devaluing & disrespecting dark skin

- Telling children to “stay out of the sun” because you don’t want them to be darker

- “”“Preferences”“” for light skin 🙃

- People with light skin being listened to more often than people with dark skin

- Light skin being associated with beauty & intelligence in and outside the black community while dark skin is associated with aggression and ugliness

- Favouring family members with light skin immediately over those with dark skin

- Media depicting acceptable blackness as light skin

- When actors/actresses with dark skin are cast, their roles are often loud, aggressive, ghetto, etc

- Or casting actors/actresses with light skin to play characters with dark skin instead of just fucking hiring somebody with dark skin

- Dark skin being the punchline of shitty “jokes” about how nobody could love dark skin

- “We all niggas to the whites” being said to shut down conversations about colorism

- “I don’t realize that talking about colorism isn’t dismissing the struggles I face as a black person, so I’m going to derail conversations about colorism whenever I see them and not bother to learn about it” 🙃

- When the above thing happens people with light skin always think they in the right because colorism teaches us that we’re smarter than people with dark skin and by default right

- Tbh somebody with light skin could just be breathing or doing something mediocre and they get praised to high heaven, which goes back to the idea of light skin being so over valued in our community

- Half of us ain’t even all that we just light

- Makeup catering to people who are white passing or have light skin

- People with dark skin being told they can’t wear certain colors/patterns

- I can guarantee we (light skinned people) salty when a woman with dark skin gets more attention than us because colorism is so pervasive it’s taught us that we’re better and deserve more attention automatically

- Language differences: in daily conversation people with light skin are less dehumanized and more respected than people with dark skin

- I really believe if I wasn’t light I would not be able to do this project because nobody would listen to me. I’m not even saying anything new or inventive, I’m just repeating what people with dark skin have been saying

- If any of this is outta line I’d be more than happy to be corrected by somebody who has experienced/experiences colorism 😊

(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.