who else has these!

someone: loki is a irredeemable villain

someone else: no he’s my smol bean who has never done anything wrong ever

third someone: he’s a villain but he’s kinda being dragged into becoming a hero

tom hiddleson: he’s misunderstood

me, shoving the agent of asgard comics in their hands and crying: please….no comic elitistism here….but PLEASE read just this……..for an accurate insight into his character…….

Soooo, I have been thinkin’~ [ a dangerous pass time, I know~] [[Possible Spoilers maybe, probs not]]


It really takes three people to pilot the Falcon in a fight. You have the Pilot, the Co-Pilot, and then someone who goes down to the BIG GUN. 

So we know for sure Chewbacca is the Co-Pilot….

and I am assuming Rey is the Pilot~ actually WAIT WE DO KNOW THIS




Then who is down on the BIG GUN???? IT Ain’t the Porg and it most likely isn’t Luke and it isn’t Finn cause he is driving something on the ground…



Kylo???? MAYBE???


Out of curiosity i checked my art tag and i’ve made around 360 art posts in 2.5 years, and some of them are photosets, and now i’m just asking myself why do i feel like i don’t draw enough dhjks

Quick theory: Panto exists because of Scott Boreton

Somehow, sometime, young Scott Boreton imagined himself as a brave handsome hero, the greatest swordsman in a fantasyland. Somehow, this projection of himself came into being in Wendimoor as Panto Trost.

We know Scott had “issues” when he was younger, he has dyed pink hair, he turns out to actually be a sweetie but with some anger issues towards his absent mom.

Who else has an absent mom? Panto. What would a boy trying to escape his own reality imagine himself as? Maybe a pink-haired hero? Greatest swordsman in the realm? With a cute boyfriend to boot?

anonymous asked:

hello :) do you know of anyone else who, like you, has uploaded a save file? i’m trying to find someone actively working on brindleton bay (and has finished all the other worlds). thank you!

Hi Anon! There are some other save files out there, but offhand I don’t know of anyone who has done ALL the worlds. :) The one by @lilsimsie​  would be the closest; it includes every world except FH and BB (but I’m sure she’s building stuff for BB) - Simsie’s Starter Save File. Otherwise the only other save files I know of are the ones in Lana’s CC Finds tags - S4 Worlds and S4 Worlds Save.

I should also mention that there’s a collab going on between several awesome YouTube builders to re-do BB - it won’t be a save file (I don’t think), but it looks like a great project so far! They just started releasing videos yesterday. If you’re interested in that, I would check out the Vet Clinic video by SimLicy - it has links to all of the other “Brindleton Baes” collaborators in the description (they’re building and uploading daily between November 20th and 26th). 

anonymous asked:

Got any headcanons for Santana with a calm, motherly female s/o with an unusual or sarcastic s/o? Like someone who's quiet and kind but with a sardonic wit they tend to keep under wraps most of the time?

- Santana is able to look after himself. He’s highly intelligent and he knows what he needs, he probably knows more about how the human body than most people do - and yet, he finds himself strangely attached to this human who cares more about him than anyone else ever has. 
- Knowing how to take care of yourself and feeling like someone is taking care of you, it turns out, are two entirely different things. Santana never really had a motherly influence - his influences came from the fellow Pillar Men, who were not soft and were more concerned with raising fighters than raising people. 
- But now, Santana has a chance to learn more about humans and how their brains and emotions work, and he finds that it’s strangely interesting. There’s a peculiar warmth in his chest when his s/o puts their hand in his, or runs fingers through his hair, or asks him if he needs anything before they go out. It’s nice to be thought of.
- It’s nice to know he’s on their mind, like they’re on his. Santana didn’t think he’d ever need romance, but when his s/o presses her lips against his and he feels warm and safe and right, he reconsiders. Perhaps a little romance isn’t all bad. 
- And when her wit is revealed, Santana can’t help but be delighted. It serves as a reminder that humans are creatures of more interest than he gives them credit for; that there’s more to be discovered beneath the surface. 
- Santana is excited to learn everything he can about his s/o, carefully and intimately and thoroughly. 

anonymous asked:

Hey so could you please explain to me what Borderline personality disorder is and what the symptomps are? And like what could cause it? I feel like I could have that because for example I always snap at people when someone says something "wrong" and get angry and begin to lowkey scream. And when someone who usually texts me smileys and then doesn't I feel like they are mad at me and I did something wrong. Thank you!

Hi there,

I’m sorry to hear that this is going on! 

The symptoms of borderline personality disorder (BPD) include:

  • Fear of abandonment
  • Unstable relationships
  • Unclear or unstable self-image
  • Impulsive, self-destructive behaviors
  • Self-harm
  • Extreme emotional swings
  • Chronic feelings of emptiness
  • Explosive anger
  • Feeling suspicious or out of touch with reality


With these symptoms in mind, something to remember is that nobody experiences a disorder the same way as someone else who has it. Some people experience all of these symptoms and someone else might only show a few of the symptoms. The degree that a person experiences the symptoms can vary, too. So, if you don’t experience every single symptom listed above, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you don’t have BPD. Everyone is different and no two cases are the same.

As for the causes of BPD, professionals aren’t 100% what causes a person to develop the disorder. They suspect that environmental factors such as child abuse or neglect may be a cause, as well as genetics or brain abnormalities. Like with a lot of illnesses and especially mental illnesses, a person is likely to inherit a disorder if a parent has it. For the brain abnormalities, research has suggested changes in the parts of the brain that control aggression, impulsivity, and emotional regulation. You can read a bit more about the causes of BPD here.

Something that I want to point out regarding the symptoms and causes of BPD is how a lot of these things can have a negative connotation. It’s extremely important to remember that nobody with BPD is inherently abusive. Yes, some of the symptoms of BPD are similar to the signs that an abusive person may exhibit, but that doesn’t mean that everyone with the disorder is automatically abusive or a terrible person. While people with BPD can be abusive, so can someone with any other mental illness. Just know that if you do have BPD, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. The negative stereotypes about people with BPD are not true in any way.

All of this being said, it’s important to reach out for professional help if you think you may have the symptoms of BPD (and even if you don’t, since it sounds like the symptoms you do have are disrupting your day to day life). I can’t say whether you may have it or not since professionals are the only ones who can figure out if you do have it because the symptoms of disorders can overlap so much and they have to rule out other diagnoses. Either way, consider reaching out so you can get the diagnosis if you have it, which would lead you to starting some form of treatment. If you’d like some information on how to reach out, take a look at our getting help page. You can also read about some of the treatment options for BPD here.

I hope this at least somewhat answers your questions, but let us know if you’d like more information! Take care and good luck!


I’m so shooketh right now.

So my friend’s dad- he does a lot of cool stuff, including acting. He’s been in a few movies like Lucas, and he was one of the kids running behind Rocky in Rocky 4.

Because of this, he’s eligible for Sag, which means he can vote on movies for the Oscars.

Because of this, they send him movies in the mail before they’ve come out in theaters.

One of those movies is Star Wars.

Apparently when he saw it in the mail, my friend’s brother cried tears of joy, and watched it immediately. So now he’s seen the new Star Wars movie months before anyone else can.

TL;DR- I know someone who has seen the newest Star Wars movie, and I NEED to get into acting.

“did chris evans actually jump that high to grab onto that helicopter in civil war?”

friendly reminder that chris vaulted with ease over chris pratt after just telling him less than a minute before that he would be able to clear him if he only put his head down.

(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.

call it poetry –

the 150 patchwork characters above your instagram photos and below your profile picture; the 650 words you bled into your common app essay, baptized by midnight tears and shaky fingers on backlit keyboards; the 2 am text you sent your friend when she was sad, which read more like a love song than any top 50 hit; the scribbled words you placed among doodles and integrals on the back of your math test, the ones you almost hesitated to erase before you turned it in. 

call it art –  

that photo of your best friend laughing, even though it’s blurry and his left hand is out of frame; those pancakes, the ones the man at the other booth smirked at you for admiring before eating, laughing harshly before returning to his bitter coffee and significantly underappreciated waffles; the sunsets and sunrises that fill your photo stream, reminders that yesterday was beautiful and tomorrow might be too; the photo of yourself that you can’t decide if you quite like, but can’t delete either, your finger nervously hovering above it. post it. 

call it music –

the laughter of your friends from the other room that makes you smile, even though you missed the joke; the sound of your turn signal clicking, melting into the patter of raindrops on the windshield’s glass; the whistle of the summer wind outside of your old bedroom, the one that promised fairytales and twisters in sleepless childhood nights; the rhythm of your shoes in the empty hallway, reverberating with the sound of your arrival.

it is poetry.

it is art.

it is music. 

it is you.


Daisy Johnson in Agents of SHIELD: ‘What If…’