this one looks better though!

Idk why I haven’t posted it yet since it’s been done for a while, but here’s my picture for a bnha fan project! I chose the movie theme, so I did something based on a poster for Train to Busan!

(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.

On writing
  • Me: Oh I know I'll just write a thing for this trashy pairing haha how fun I'll just make it a straightforward one-shot shippy thing that I don't need to take seriously.
  • Me: *Writes several thousand words of set-up* okay I guess that's fine...
  • Me: *Plans layers of complicated emotional subtext* okay I guess we can have some of that *Writes several more thousand words before getting past the first real shipping scene* uhhhh okay so guess it'll be chaptered...
  • Me: *Plans entire rest of story and realises it's already out of control* goddamit me why are you like this.
2

I really love how Winry has a picture of Ed and Al with Nina

6

Aaron Week 2017
↳ Day 2: Favourite Aaron quote → “I feel stuff for my mom now and for Paddy, but I don’t know what any of it is. And you know why?” (06.10.10)

5

YEP…He’s ALWAYS gorgeous 😍😍no matter what

cr:  @Jinkination

The retirees of the 2017 Singapore GP.

Off to the left, we see some awkwardness. To the right, we have Nando telling the young’uns that a retirement is just another Sunday for him. And in the back, we can see…what I threw together because too many drivers retired from the race and I ran out of room/ideas.

stars

As Bad As the Niffler- Newt Scamander x Reader

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back to writing again, and I’m sorry this is so short. I’m still working on requests and other imagines, but I wanted to put something up since it’s been a bit and honestly, I really missed writing. I love you all and thank you for all the amazing support :)

No warnings, Pure fluff

The frozen air from outside of your shared flat struck Newt as he climbed back up the ladder and out of his case. He cautiously stood back onto the wooden floorboards before clasping his beloved creatures’ home shut. He paused to crack his back and to unstiffen his joints, only to be greeted with the chilling air once more. A shiver rolled down his spine, and he began to walk towards the closet. Carefully, he sifted through his shirts, waistcoats, and a few of your own articles as well, and he stepped back baffled with a hand rustling through his hair.

He could have sworn his gray sweater had been hung after the last wash he finished, and he could have sworn that he hadn’t gone and left it anywhere. Rising out of his thoughts once more, he filtered through his clothes again, only to be met with the same disappointment. Newt rubbed the goosebumps on his arms as his hair started to stand on end from the frigid atmosphere. All he wanted was something a little warmer to wear as opposed to his regular button down, and his coat wouldn’t be as comfortable as the desired sweater. With a sigh, he exited the room and ambled down the wooden staircase to where he could hear you humming along to a soothing record.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he called your name out knowing you were in the room somewhere, “Y/n? Love, this is probably a strange question, but have you by chance seen my gray sweat-,”

Newt strode towards the kitchen, while talking to the floor, but when his eyes finally landed on you, he stopped as his breath was stolen right out of his lungs.

You were seated at the wooden table, the newspaper sprawled out and a blue mug perched in your gentle hands. Your hair wisped around your face as parts of it had slipped from the tied bun atop your head. With lips sipping on the contents of the mug, you peered up to glance at your boyfriend as his own eyes slipped down to the gray sweater you were wearing, which just so happened to be the same size and texture as the one he was looking for.

Newt smiled to himself in awe, as he had never seen anyone more beautiful. The sweater was obviously too large for your frame, as Newt was a giant compared to you, but that made you even more adorable. The way your eyes lit up in surprise at his unfinished question entranced him, and he let out a small laugh at your shocked state. His lips curled into a beaming grin as watched you set the mug back down softly upon the surface.

“I was um….borrowing it?” you phrased, as your intended statement came out as more of a confused question directed towards yourself. This earned you another laugh from Newt, as he began to cross his arms and lean against the door frame with a sweet smirk etched on his face.

“I’m sure you were darling,” he chuckled, “Why I’d say you’re as bad as the Niffler with this thievery.”

You gasped loudly and playfully before dramatically pressing a hand to your chest, “How dare you relate me to such a crime.”

You mocked being offended and Newt stepped towards you, grin still playfully on his face. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and you felt his short stubble gently tickle your face as well. Distracted by the kiss, you didn’t notice Newt start to wrap his arms around you and scoop you up off the chair you were sitting in. Still off guard, Newt took this as an advantage to pepper you with more kisses, bringing you both into euphoria. You wrapped your sweater-paw hands around him, giggling harder than before.

“Hmm I should be annoyed at you for stealing it, but I’ll let it slide since you’re just so adorably radiant in my clothes,” he murmured with his forehead pressed against your own.

He wasn’t lying, he thought you looked astounding, and you were extremely cozy and warm to the touch now, a feeling he was well aware of when he embraced you. Newt lovingly stared into your eyes before capturing your lips with his. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the kiss and felt the butterflied in your stomach, as even after all this time with the man you loved, you still managed to feel as you did on your first date. His hand brushed a few strands of hair from your face, but he was careful not to let you slip onto the floor. He deepened the kiss more, allow the passion you two had towards one another to blossom like a tulip in spring. His earthy scent from hours working in the case before surrounded you, enveloping you two in your own private world of love and affection. Once the kiss broke, you kissed the top of his nose enchantingly, soft as a whisper in the summer breeze.

You looked into his breathtaking pelagic eyes as sorrow swirled in your own.

“I’m sorry Newt, I really am. I shouldn’t have taken it without you knowing. Here I can give it back,” you said while tugging on the sleeved a little more.

Newt cut of your actions with another peck to your rosy lips.

“Don’t worry about it darling. You can even keep it, it looks better on you anyways. But, on one minor condition though,” he proposed.

You responded with a quick kiss to his cheek as your chest rested against his, “And what’s that dear?”

“You come back upstairs to cuddle with me. You’re unusually cuddly and soft right now, and I could use someone to help warm me back up.”

You happily nodded, “Of course Newt. I wouldn’t be able to say no anyways, I love you too much.”


“And I love you by sweater-stealing darling.”

Newt’s grin grew as you then laid your head onto his chest, arms consumed by oversized sleeves still around his neck. He shifted his hold on you and carried you back upstairs to your bedroom so the two of you could enjoy one another’s warm comfort while the chilly air swiftly swirled around in the world outside.

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