All of you unbelievers who unfollowed @clown-names just because they “stopped existing”. I was one of faithful few. The ones who shall take a clown car straight to heaven and jest before god…..the clown.
i’ve seen so much criticism of thirteen reasons why and i’ve also seen so many glowing five-star reviews praising it for its narrative maturity so i was like, okay, i should give it a try and form my own opinion, and i made it eight boring-ass minutes in before the lead boy used the words “han solo” in a sentence and the lead girl replied, “woooooooooow, you’re a real nerd aren’t you? :) i like it” and i just. have never smacked the back arrow so fast in my life.
I think it's pretty clear Savitar is Hartley Rathaway, personally. With Flashpoint, Barry unknowingly undid his actions from 2x17. Then he was just lying about everything else. The real reason he knows so much about what the team is doing/will do is because he hacked into their frequency and Eobard's cameras, which the team never removed. /shitpost
Okay but Hartley as only one Savitar. Savitar secretly being all of the Rogues together wearing the Savitar suit (which gives them the speed power). Savitar as the literal embodiment of three kids standing on each other in a trenchcoat.
Hartley steps out of the suit in front of Killer Frost and she’s all “we’re doing this.” And then Mark steps out and she blinks. And then another person, maybe Shawna. Frost is getting concerned. “How did you all fit in there?”
It’s like a clown car. Lisa is stepping out now. Bivolo is trailing behind.
“This is weird,” Killer Frost steps back.
“Help us,” Hartley asks. “Help us troll the Flash.”
You gotta consider that Gabe's costumes look cool, but are totally not okay for military actions. Like, everyone needs to look like they are apart of a group, and the current overwatch uniforms look like a ragtag group of heroes, not an officially sanctioned military group. I'm just imagining Reyes Making a bunch of cool costumes and then Morrison yelling at him because they don't even have the overwatch symbol on them and civilians think they are terrorists or comic nerds!
Oh I completely agree their costumes are good for cosplay and renfairs and probably not an organized military branch. Which is actually great, because it means that either
1) Gabe has seriously no idea what is acceptable workplace attire thus the later reaper costume
2) Gabe knows exactly what acceptable workplace attire is and does not give a single fuck
or 3) Gabe made the outfits for the halloween party next year but everyone misinterpreted their intention and started wearing them in actual operations, and now he is simultaneously mortified that his clearly over-the-top halloween costumes are now available for public scrutiny and elated since organizing this goddam clown car of a military branch drives the upper management insane
“This is stupid.” Nico di Angelo said, peering into the overflowing car.
“Just get in!” Percy said from the front seat.
“Where?” Nico asked, seriously doubting the legality of the sight before him.
The demigods thought it would be great fun to go to a concert… in one car. That’s why Nico was standing on a curb, glaring at a car with Percy and Reyna in the front. Will, Jason, and Annabeth in the back. Piper siting on the floor in the back and Thump thump! Leo in the trunk.
Will opened his door, “We’re going to be late, just sit on my lap.” Reaching out of the car, Will grabbed Nico by his hips. Awkwardly pulling him into the Clown Car. Ignoring his protests, Will shut the door and told Percy to drive.
Nico sat on his boyfriends lap, head smacking the top of the car when they hit a bump, pondering how it was possible to hate a group of people so much.
Named after the Greek god in charge of driving the sun across the sky every day, Phébus motor vehicles operated out of Paris from 1899 through 1903. While eventually manufacturing voiturettes, it began with the much-heralded motorized tricycle shown in this poster. The figures are common characters in the commedia dell’arte, wherein Pierrot unsuccessfully seeks the affections of Columbine. Here, though, he has found a new love: Phébus.
A long sigh left your red painted lips as you watched the man you loved. The loud thump of music blocking out any kind of conversation he may be having. Not that it matters. You were more interested in his actions, his body language. You were angry, jealous even. His arm was placed softy on a brunette’s shoulder. You were used to this by now. At least he invited you this time and didn’t leave you home wondering where his green haired ass was. But you had grown tired of the entire thing. Your legs swung playfully along to the music, as the bartender finally brought your drink over. You downed it, slamming the glass down.
“I’m done.” You mumbled to yourself before exiting the club and going home. You lay in the dark, waiting for his return. The later it got the more impatient you became. Eventually you fell asleep on the sofa, still dressed.
A strong buzz awoke you from your slumber. You checked your phone. It was him. Another sigh followed but you picked up.
“What J?” You growl down the phone. His words were slurred but you could make out that he wanted you to go get him. You checked the time. Three am, was he serious? Why did you keep letting this happen?
“Fine.” You agree. Instantly hanging up. Off you went to pick up the man himself. As you pulled up to the curb, an intense feeling in your gut. Nothing but anger. Where was he? You had to park and go find him. He was in the back. He smiled his famous smile as you approached.
“Ah y/N….finally you’re here, come to daddy.” He patted his leg but you remained stood. His head tilted rather like a puppy confused.
He chucked to himself.
“I said get up.” You yelled it this time. And his hands went up in surrender, rising to his feet. He stumbled slight but you didn’t help him. Just walked back to your car. The clown prince of crime following behind sluggishly. You get in and wait for him to catch up, he slid into the passenger side. Foot down on the peddle, you begin driving. You don’t say anything to him. He didn’t deserve it. Not that he normally did. He was a dick most of the time but there was just something about him that kept you with him. Kept you hung on his every word. The Joker rambled, his words hard to make out amongst his intoxication. You missed what it used to be like. The Joker had always been weird and a little rough but he treated you better than now. Now you didn’t even seem to exist in his world unless he needed a lift home. No longer were you treated like his queen, more like his maid. You’d still been sleeping together but with the way he acted around other girls the thought that he was cheating was always in the back of your mind. You pulled up out side the house.
“We’re here, now get out my car.” You say calmly. Eyes forward. Hands tight on the steering wheel.
He chuckled once again. Was this all amusing to him? Wouldn’t surprise you.
“Such aggression coming from the pretty kitty.”
You choose to ignore him. He fell to your lap, looking up at you with those beautiful blue eyes. You refused to look down.
“What’s up doll? Does someone need a nap?”
Of course you were tired. He’d woken you up to collect his drunken ass. You yawned but didn’t respond.
“Come on princess, off to bed.”
You push him off your lap. Leaning over to open the passenger door for him.
“I’m tired of this J. Get out of my car and go to bed, you’re drunk like always.”
He actually listened which somewhat surprised you. He slammed the door behind him. You glance at him but drive away. You weren’t sure if this was the end of it all or if it was just the built up anger talking and you’d be back tomorrow. Either way you were done caring for him. He can deal with the hangover on his own. Heck he can deal with everything alone if he was gonna kept doing this to you. You were tired and you were going to get a peaceful nights sleep for the first time in ages even if it killed you.