one more because of reasons

(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.

The moment in Wonder Woman with the glasses had me cracking up for more than one reason. First of all, because Steve is like, “She’s still too distracting. Here,” and has Diana put on the glasses and then Etta goes, “Ah right, the specs. Put them on and suddenly she’s no longer the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” Then Diana looks in the mirror and seems to like the glasses. So the scene is funny in and of itself but it’s also a slight dig at Superman and Supergirl and their ridiculous glasses disguises hahaha.

8

Q: Can we talk baby goats and how that completely blew up?  How everyone loves you holding baby goats in the show?

Travis Fimmel: Oh, did they really?  Oh, that’s funny.  I don’t know if I’ve held a goat.  I held a lamb one time, it was a lamb.  I dunno, I just walked past and I grabbed one.  I needed something to hold because the two girls sitting next to me weren’t very happy with me.  It got comforting that way.

10

Some more of those expressions! I’ve been on a bit of a lineless kick lately so that’s been…happening…

I think this is the last of them, guys! If anyone didn’t see their ask, then either tumblr ate it or it was a repeat of one I already did ^_^ Thanks for everyone who sent some, they were good practice!

How else can I say it
but like this?
Like a fever, I burned
and then broke.


How else can I say it
but like this?
Like the dawn, I broke
and then rose.

—  Nathaniel Orion G. K.

Markiplier Gothic

-The lucky flannel has returned. The lucky flannel will always return. You cannot seem to destroy the lucky flannel. No matter how many times you steal it and burn it in the woods behind your house, it always makes its way back to him. You have tried to warn him many times, warn him that the luck comes with a price, warn him that the flannel will one day demand that all debts are paid; he has not heard your warnings, or perhaps he is ignoring them. Either way, you sadly conclude, it is too late. He is too far gone now.
You stop trying to steal the lucky flannel.

-“Herb lore,” you hear one, solitary voice chirp. It is a voice you do not recognize.
“Herb lore.” Responds another.
A cacophony of voices suddenly surround you. “Herb lore, herb lore, HERB LORE!” They chant, although not quite in unison.
You do not know where these voices are coming from, nor do you remember when you started chanting with them. With each passing repetition, you forget a little more about the life you lived before herb lore. You keep chanting anyway.

- @markiplier uses a slightly different voice for approximately 4 and a half seconds in a video. By the time you click away and open a new tab, Tumblr has created a character out of this voice. They have named him Kevin. Kevin now has four ask blogs and twelve fan blogs, seven of which have some variant of the phrase “protection squad” in their usernames. One of them is dedicated solely to NSFW KevinxAntisepticeye fan fiction. It already has 300 followers.

-Every once and a while, you hear the Ancient Ones howling outside your window in the middle of the night. “COLA AND MEAL PLEASE, NO BREAD,” they shriek. You do not know what this means. You are too afraid to ask.

-“Markiplier’s fanbase is a bunch of 12 year olds,” you hear them say. You look around, but you can’t see any. You realize that you can’t remember the last time you saw a 12 year old at all. What does a 12 year old look like? How long have you been older than 12? Were you ever 12?
You turn to the person nearest to you. It is a middle-aged man. He has a wife and two children. He works in accounting.
“How old are you?” You ask.
“12,” he replies.
You scream.

-“Subscribe for More!” reads the cheerful font at the end of the compilation video. It is not a suggestion.

-A blonde woman in an alien-themed sweatshirt passes you in the grocery store. As she walks around your cart, her arm brushes against a six pack of Corona.
“I CAN’T DRINK THAT, OR I WILL LITERALLY DIE,” a voice booms, the noise crackling in the air like lightning. The woman glances at you and you nod, confirming that, yes, you heard it too.

-“Shares are a little low this month,” he tells you. Something about his tone fills you with a strange, primal fear. You share his videos with your friends. You share them with family. You write the URLS on pieces of paper and staple them to trees.
“Shares are a little low this month.”
You’re positive it’s a warning this time.

-You go on a date with Markiplier. “You look so familiar. Have we met?” he asks. You decide not to tell him that you have. You have done all of this before. You have always been on this date with Markiplier.
There are now two Markipliers. You are holding them both at gunpoint. You know that the one on the left is the real one, because you have done this before. You have always been doing this.
You shoot the one on the left anyway.
Afterwards, you go out for ice cream.
“Bonjour!” The man behind the counter smiles. His eyes are not yet filled with quiet desperation. He must not know about the time loop.
You go on a date with Markiplier.

I was talking to my mum once about why she thought homosexuality was wrong/a choice and she told me that it was partially because the bible says that “confusion comes from the devil” and that whenever she heard LGBTQ people talk about their experiences with figuring their sexuality out, they said they were confused at some point. 

At the time, I didn’t know what to say to that. I had only recently come out to her, and I was still trying to find the best way to explain everything. But now I realize just how fucked up that statement is, because the confusion doesn’t come from liking someone of the same gender, it comes from adults demonizing that attraction. 

If a kid grows up in a household where being gay/bi/pan/etc. is normalized, then if they ever feel attracted to the same gender, or more than one gender, there isn’t any reason to be confused, because they haven’t been told that it is wrong. When I figured out that I liked both boys and girls, I was confused because I had been lead to believe that only one of those attractions was valid and that I wasn’t supposed to feel the other one. And when the feelings wouldn’t go away, I felt lost because it was supposed to be a choice. 

LGBTQ kids feeling confused has nothing to do with the devil, it has to do with society telling us that who we are is a mistake and that our feelings are possible to ignore/avoid.

4

Jon Bernthal in The Accountant [requested by: @thevagabondboy]

8

…I wonder if that was actually a good decision to make there, Kuroo

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3

All’s fair in friendship and espionage.

A big angel with his beautiful smol angel. 

I swear I’m doing the devil’s work here since there still isn’t enough deckerstar fanart for my liking. I shall make more until more artists do the same. 

more fun taz animations! still getting the hang of looping them in just 24 frames

“lets make headcanons that ‘fix’ the sexism of the sixties" 

or lets not in case they get popular and people new to the fandom confuse your headcanon for irl canon, and instead lets openly talk about the sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, and all the other bigotry ingrained into the show because of the time period and environment it was written in, ya know, like adults.

like, stop fucking ignoring the problems and actively address them. Especially in a show that is ABOUT moving beyond and learning from our bigotry and prejudice, actively criticizing it can help future series or movies also learn from the problems and fix them.

Instagram Aesthetic
Descendants Main Five + Auradon Students

sorryfreudianslip-deactivated20  asked:

i would LOVE to hear your thoughts on dear evan hansen if ur up for it i have v strong feelings about it and most of it is disappointment

let’s get the two big bullet points out of the way first:

  • ben platt absolutely deserved the “best actor” tony he received; his work as evan is the one of the most raw, all-in performances I’ve ever seen in a musical. four for you, ben platt. the cast is great across the board, actually, and the accolades they raked in aren’t misplaced. 
  • dear evan hansen should have at least lost the “best new musical” and “best music” tonys to natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812. even if I thought DEH was a complete success (I don’t), its themes of adolescent alienation, mental illness, suicide, and family struggle have been covered equally well by other musicals, including bare and next to normal. the score also isn’t anything new. the songs are fine, with some edging into very good, but again, I give you next to normal. it’s not that DEH is bad, it’s that it’s not breaking any new ground, and that’s what these particular awards exist to honor. 

anyway, now that that’s taken care of. 

My issue with dear evan hansen can be summed up in one sentence: it pulled its punches. this is a story about a kid who’s so socially anxious and desperate for recognition from his peers that he inserts himself into the life of a family who just lost their son to suicide. the first act understands how inherently fucked up that is for everyone, it follows Evan as does his best to soften the blow of loss for the Murphys, and then watches as that lie helps him fall ass-backwards into everything he ever wanted. it understands that despite Evan’s feelings of isolation and his attempts at kindness, he still has a bit of a nasty streak. he doesn’t pull the plug on the ‘me and Connor were so close’ charade because everything it got him feels so good; the girl of his dreams, parents who are always there, the world seeing him as valuable and important. Connor Murphy’s suicide gives Evan the chance to reinvent himself, and reinvent he does. his motivations are twisted up and sad and ugly, and even the “best” thing he pulls off - the creation of the Connor Project - only enters his head because he’s afraid of losing the pull that his connection to Connor gives him. Evan sees himself in Connor, and siphons off people’s anguish to soothe the pain of no one having noticed his own suicide attempt. once you’ve walked your protagonist to that point, you’ve created an emotional and thematic narrative that’s far too messy to be tied off into an uplifting bow. unfortunately, that’s exactly what the show tries to do

the second act teeters on the same tightrope the first walked easily, effective at times (showcasing just how good at bullying Evan’s become when he rejects his own mother + his only friend in favor of the life the Murphys have offered him), less so at others (there’s a late-stage emphasis on pile-on culture that doesn’t go anywhere thematically). It’s not until the end that the show collapses into empty platitudes and pop psychology, knocking the teeth out of what until then has been a vicious tangle of hurt and resentment and grief. when Evan comes clean, we’re supposed to believe that all he ever wanted was to be loved, because his Dad Left, and his Mom Was Absent, and No One Noticed Him. this, despite the fact that we’ve seen Evan be desperate and oily throughout, ingratiating himself with the right words that lean on the right places, going so far as to lie to a girl about what her abusive brother thought of her so he could make a clean breast of how much he liked her. 

this doesn’t make Evan a bad character; on the contrary, that little knot of meanness and desperation is what makes him such a good one. but the show refuses to commit to what it’s created. when he finally tells the Murphys the truth, their reaction of horror and betrayal is exactly what you’d expect–and then the next (and final) two scenes are: 

  1. Evan’s mom cradling her son and telling him that she Should Have Been There More. 
  2. Zoey Murphy fucking agreeing to see Evan again in his orchard of lies

Because it’s fine, you know? It’s been a year since Evan nested into her family’s loss like a raccoon in an attic, and he did get people to kickstart an apple grove for her brother’s memory, so it’s basically like it never happened. People came together over Connor’s death despite Evan’s motives, and it helped the Murphys let go and move on and heal and oh my godddddddd am I going insane? am I the only person who thinks this is the tiredest, most knee-jerk ~closure~ bullshit they’ve ever heard? a breathtaking emotional wound can’t be handwaved away, and certainly not offstage in a cheap time lapse. ugh. if they wanted this ending, Evan should have confessed near the top of the act, and the story should have spent the next 45 minutes earning its neat, uncomplicated little cherry on top. 

I guess at the end of the day I’m annoyed at this show. it starts as something interesting and difficult and very very human. it ends as something that’s had all the poison milked.