“My daughter, she tells me when she grows up she wants to be a singer or a comic. I said ‘Well, baby, if you wanna be a comic, you gotta be a writer. But don’t worry, you’ve got tons of material: Your mother is a manic depressive, drug addict. Your father’s gay. Your grandmother tap dances and your grandfather eats hearing aids.’ And my daughter laughs and laughs and laughs and I said ‘Baby, the fact that you know that’s funny is gonna save your whole life.’”—Carrie Fisher (via mybodywakesup)
The problem with shipping a niche ship: you read all the fanfiction in one afternoon and if you want some more you have to write it yourself.
The problem with shipping a popular ship: 16,835 results on AO3. You start playing with tags and sorting through it, full of determination, confident that with so many fanfics you’re bound to find something you’ll like. Two hours, 30 instances of awful writing, 8 squick-outs,13 wtf AUs and 157 just plain uninteresting later you have to rush back to the canon to even remember why you liked the ship in the first place.
The problem with a popular ship: there are 6,285 fics similar to yours and you can’t help but compare your writing with others
The problem with writing a niche ship: you write only for yourself + your best friend who’s either your enabler or just feels sorry for you
I know this is utterly ridiculous to think in a time like this, but I feel like my Animorphs tumblr friends would understand. Ever since last night, I’ve had a line from the Andalite death ritual in book #18 stuck in my head on a loop. “My life is not my own, when the People have need of it.” The People have never had more need. My life is not my own. It’s time to devote it to protecting freedom, in any way I might.
also about that comment on yeerks smothering each other: i’m pretty sure one of the really big social problems yeerks faced was that yeerks in their natural state cannot individually murder each other. they’re softbodied aquatic invertebrates. they have nothing to murder each other with.
killing a yeerk would be a group effort: they would either have to bury a yeerk in the silt of the bottom of the pool and guard him for days, or slowly push a rock on top of that yeerk until he’s crushed, or by group effort isolate and then shove the yeerk out of the pool on to dry land and keep him there until he dries out. these group efforts would be exhaustive and require extensive, determined coordination. basically, yeerks have only ever executed each other.
unfortunately, yeerks gain the capacity to murder people in the space of… a day. a week at the outside. monday: no yeerks had ever murdered anyone. friday: they’d shot like three andalites and were starting in on shooting each other.
yeerks are not emotionally equipped to understand murder. they understand death, and predators, and maybe even socially-mandated execution. but a species with no real form of organized warfare or interpersonal violence gets its hands on guns and spaceships and goes basically fucking nuts. think about it: humans know we can fuck each other up. all our cultures acknowledge and regulate our capacity— and our desire— to kill people we hate.
yeerks don’t have that. yeerks have never had that. they suddenly get that and they go fucking nuts. roughly fifty years later they are still fucking nuts, only even more so because they’ve locked themselves into this completely unnatural, artificial social situation— a highly regimented life of total war— and any yeerk with a host now has the capacity to kill. and they kill each other a lot. their whole ranking system boils down to ‘who is allowed to kill who’. esplin 9466 gets an andalite body but still has a yeerk’s mind, a yeerk’s total lack of… control, awareness, something, and he just fucking starts chopping heads off and never slows down.
the ultimate fridge horror of the animorphs, i think, is that the yeerks themselves are child soldiers: terribly young people in a terrible situation, born into a war they didn’t start, forced to use alien technologies that mutiliate their sense of self, their capacity for pain, their ability to relate to noncombatants, even their fellow combatants. the first victim of the yeerk empire was the yeerks themselves.
Carrie Fisher was important to so many people. she was important to me. I wanted to meet her.
I read that she would’ve liked people to report that she drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. so – that’s what happened. she drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra, bc space stuff.
theres a new product by verzion called “hum” that allows your parents to track your car and places you go, if your parents are controlling like mine please check under your steering wheel to make sure that they havent installed this
here is what it looks like installed:
you can read more about it here, and here- this excerpt sums up what information Hum will send:
“a car’s owner will be able to get notified on their phone when the vehicle leaves a pre-determined area or drives faster than a set speed… [Hum] will enable location tracking and a driving log, which measures travel times, engine idle times, and average speeds.”
People in abusive relationships, please check your cars.
I also accidentally befriended a pro Widowmaker by the name of Belpheagor. She kept landing headshots on me and after like the 6th time I wrote in the chat, “Widow plz” because I know from prior experience that it tends to work.
She wrote back, “Mercy I’m sorry, but I have to.” After that she only landed body shots on me, but she was definitely more hesitant to land any shots on me.
Later, I was going around the back of the point to try and get to someone and I ran point blank into her. She stared at me through her scope for a few seconds; I “Hello!”ed to try and pull on her heartstrings. She shot the Pharah coming up behind me, gave me a look, and then grappled away.
She wrote in the chat, “Did you see how I didn’t shoot you” and next thing I know I had a friend request from her.
2017, understand that, given the shit you have inherited from your immediate predecessors, you are considered guilty until proven innocent. You carry this burden.
I’m here for “intimidating” girls. The “I thought you were mean when I first saw you” girls. The girls with “Resting Bitch™” faces. The girls that scare the men that try to catcall them. The girls that stand in their strong ass opinions. The girls that take no shit and get called a Bitch™ for it.
I love y'all and I hope y'all have a good day today.
and this, emphasized for black girls
My nickname around town used to be Miin the Bitch and I wore it with pride.
Sooooo, for the sake of pain, can I have a Nat/Clint fic for the OTP song thing for "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park
*cackling* All right, let’s play. Trigger warning for…Red Room shit. There’s more of this story, of course, after the events of the last scene, but I felt like this was a good place to end it.
Bring me home in a blinding dream, Through the secrets that I have seen Wash the sorrow from off my skin And show me how to be whole again
‘Cause I’m only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see
She is very small when she learns what they mean, the words inscribed
over the curve of her hipbone. Not the
words themselves—they’re not Russian, not even the right alphabet, her parents
say they’re French and she wonders
what it means. But they are her soulmate,
her parents say. Someday, somewhere,
someone will say them to her, and that will be the person the universe has
created just for her.
She smiled and traces her fingers over the words, over and over, and
wonders who it will be.
And then her life catches fire and burns to ash, and she is taken away
by a tall man with a solemn face, and given a new name.
Natalia grows up, and learns, and fights, and bleeds.
do you ever watch something and think “this was written by a man”
i was up late night watching an episode of criminal minds fairly recently, for lack of a better thing to do. in the opening scene there are these two girls getting into their car in like a supermarket parking lot, not very well lit, in the middle of the night. another car drives up right behind theirs and won’t move out of the way so this one girl is like “im gonna go see what this guy’s problem is” and gets out of the car, in a poorly lit parking lot, to confront a man who was behaving aggressively to them.
so that was the precise moment i realised that episode was written by a man.
I was watching an episode of CSI where the entire reason they were going forward with the case was that ‘no woman would wear a bra this expensive without also wearing the matching panties’. What porn logic is this? I was, at that moment, wearing the exact bra the Jane Doe was wearing and fuck no I didn’t spring for the matching panties. Even if I did, I wouldn’t wear them as often as a bra. Panties I wash daily. Bras? Not so much.
But in CSI World, police resources were being mobilized on how irregular it would be for a woman to wear a $36 bra, but not caring about how she would look in just underthings.
Never mind not matching, but that they think $36 is expensive for a bra is probably the number one sign it was written by a man.
I just said the phrase “he doesn’t seem like the brightest knife in the toolshed” to myself which after a moment of thinking about it is a perfect mashup of “doesn’t seem like the brightest bulb in the box”/”he doesn’t seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer”/”he doesn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed” which are three completely independent sayings that all mean the exact same thing.
So what I’m getting at is I think despite the absolute literal nonsense the meaning still holds and I now plan to say that for everything.
I usually say “doesn’t seem like the shiniest rock in the garden” because the look on people’s faces is hilarious.
This is the best photo I can find of him, you guys. I’m sorry. You should all draw fanart of him because he’s the best. And you know I wouldn’t make such a claim without hard evidence to back it up.
He was born a slave on a Virginia plantation. The year was either 1748 or 1760. Seriously, fans of Hamilton think they have it hard with his age having two years of uncertainty. Try TWELVE.
The name Armistead came from his owner, William Armistead. William Armistead was apparently “a man of strong peculiarities, a gentleman of the old school, wearing knee buckles and retaining English tastes.” (source) Despite his English tastes, several of his sons fought in the Revolution; one of them was killed at the Battle of Brandywine.
We don’t know very much about Armistead’s youth, but I think it’s fair to say it sucked. However, we also know that he learned how to read and write at some point. This would come in handy later.
In 1781, the war came to Virginia. Cornwallis was wreaking havoc and Lafayette, outgunned outmanned etc., was desperately attempting to annoy him without being captured or crushed. It was apparently at this time (at the age of either 21 or 33) that James Armistead asked for and received permission to join Lafayette’s command.
Conditions for former slaves under the British were significantly better than under the Americans. (Witness, John Laurens’ extreme difficulties trying to get a black battalion approved by South Carolina’s legislature. Meanwhile, the British were offering emancipation to slaves who would fight for them. They were using them as cannon fodder and manual laborers, but still.)
James and Lafayette hit it off. Lafayette was an abolitionist, and he quickly realized that James had qualities (e.g. he was literate and quick-witted, but, being black, was also likely to be overlooked) that made him suitable for intelligence work. And, as he wrote to Hamilton around that time, “I shall work devilish hard for intelligences.” (source)
James crafted a plausible story for himself: that he had escaped a cruel owner and wanted to join the British for a shot at freedom. The first person he convinced of this story? BENEDICT FUCKING ARNOLD.
Let that sink in. Benedict Arnold, infamous turncoat, who knew exactly what to look for in a double agent because he had been one himself for two years. Who was only caught because John Andre got himself captured! And Arnold never suspected a thing. And I QUOTE, “Arnold was so convinced of Armistead’s pose as a runaway slave that he
used him to guide British troops through local roads. Armistead often
traveled between camps, spying on British officers, who spoke openly
about their strategies in front of him. Armistead documented this
information in written reports, delivered them to other American spies,
and then return to General Cornwallis’s camp.” (source)
Are you impressed yet? I know I am. IT GETS BETTER.
At this time, Lafayette’s forces were extremely underfunded and bedraggled, and the state of Virginia wasn’t exactly doing its part to supply food/ men (thanks, Governor of Virginia at the time Thomas Jefferson). There were times when it got precarious. Good intel helped Lafayette stay a step ahead.
After Arnold got reassigned James started spying on Cornwallis instead. You know where this is going, right? Cornwallis decided to encamp on this peninsula called Yorktown that is totally not famous at all and wait for the British fleet to come up and take him and his troops away. Lafayette encircled him by land.
This whole time, James was sending Lafayette intelligence about Cornwalls; his mood, his supply situation, morale in camp, the health of the men, how the fortifications were arranged. How did he send his messages, you ask? Dead drop? Smoke signals? Strategic petticoat patterns?
He. Fucking. Walked. From camp to camp. Time after fucking time. (source) How he talked the British into being okay with this, I have no idea, but he somehow did it. Presumably, it was his hard and incredibly risky work that let Lafayette know that Cornwallis was determined to wait for the British fleet to arrive (hint: it wasn’t coming) and that many of his men were sick with malaria (which Lafayette also caught because this part of Virginia was swampy af) and various other fevers. In other words, they were sitting ducks.
Furthermore, Armistead was the ONLY SUCCESSFUL SPY in Yorktown. All the others were either a) caught or b) unable to get good information. (source)
Seriously, if we were making Hamilton lines more accurate, we should change it to, “How did we know that this plan would work? We had a spy on the inside, that’s right JAMES ARMISTEAD!!!”
After the war James wound up a slave again, because life is incredibly unfair. There was a bill that allowed emancipation of slaves who served as soldiers during the Revolution. Can you believe the sheer levels of dickery it must have required for people to argue that this didn’t apply to James, because he had been a spy and not technically fought? He’d put his life on the line every damn day!
James petitioned for his freedom. Lafayette wrote him a letter of reference to support his case, because really, it was only fucking fair. He won his freedom, changed his name to James Armistead Lafayette, and settled down on a farm, where he had a giant family and died in 1830 (or 1832?) at the ripe old age of 70, or 72, or 82, or 84.
OH WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT THE CUTEST PART, although this story is apocryphal and I can’t find a good source. Lafayette returned to the U.S. in 1824 as an old man to tour around, visit old buddies like wacky ol’ TJeff, preside over shit being named after him, and generally be applauded and gushed over and adored from all sides. Apparently he was sitting in a carriage, in the middle of a parade in his honor, when he spots James in the crowd and LEAPS out of the carriage and hauls the guy into a bear hug. Which, okay, maybe it never happened, but my heart wants to believe it’s true.
In conclusion:
1. James Armistead Lafayette was an utter badass
2. Lafayette could have been captured playing cat-and-mouse with Cornwallis in Virginia without him.
3. The Patriots might not have recognized Yorktown for the golden opportunity it was without him
4. The Battle of Yorktown could have been lost without him.
5. Tell your friends, tell your family.
6. If he’s not in Turn eventually I will lose my shit.
7. You should all write fic and draw art about him and then tag me in it so I can reblog it
If writers took every bit of writing advice that was in the format ‘Don’t use X part of the English language’, all English fiction would read like Spot the dog
Haha okay, the teacher I have for YA Lit is amazing. I had her for Sci-Fi Fiction before. But the thing is she was given this class five days before it started since she’s taking over for another teacher.
If they’re going to reference the comic books in later movies regarding Scarlet Vision, I kinda hope it’s that time Wanda punched a girl in the face shouting ‘nobody gives my husband a lap dance except me!’ whilst Vision looked on scandalised.
do you ever just kinda wonder what your selling point as a human being or friend is? like, what was the point at which people were like: hey, I’ll keep this human
do you have feelings about hozier/take me to church/from eden/his whole deal??
Here’s what I wrote about Hozier in 2014
Hozier’s music is this masochistic gospel blues offering to some profane woman-god of whiskey and rough love who probably blows cigarette smoke in the shape of the snake who tempted Eve and I am so here for it.
I essentially stand by it. If we’re going to do the “my significant other is my religion” thing, I want it to be Hozier. He like…gives it a nuance and depth I have hitherto not seen.
From Eden is EXCELLENT and I am very picky about my ficticious depictions of Satan. From Eden is kind of like…the Satan in all of us? The Satan washed up on your front doorstep at 2 am hurting from his own mistakes but not yet ready to ask for forgiveness Like:
Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Just putting this out there cause I’ve had about twenty asks calling me a ‘total fucking weirdo’ a ‘deluded fangirl’ and a ‘brainless tumblerina’ for shipping Vision and Wanda:
PLEASE IMAGINE THE FIRST TIME AN ALIEN HAS ONE OF THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS DIE
‘so hey, that was a great funeral, cool outfits, always glad to learn more about your culture and stuff. So, when is she coming back?’
‘She- she’s not coming back’
‘Yeah, not as Megan, but when is her replacement coming back?’
‘We’re- not hiring anyone new for a couple weeks???’
‘no no no, you’re not getting what I’m saying- I want to ask her about that book she lent me- can I keep it for another week or two, or does her new version want it back?’
The humans stare at the alien and just. slowly start to figure out what the alien is saying. The alien shuffles nervously, their six spindly legs making a skritching noise that echoes in the cold chapel. Finally, the kindest of the humans takes the alien aside and-
‘hey. so. Us humans don’t come back when we die. Not like you do.’
‘what? No, but you clearly talk about reincarnation, and-’
‘Those are just stories, Six. When humans die, we’re gone. We don’t come back.’
The alien laughs ‘No, see, cuz that would mean that- that would mean. That Megan- Megan is-’ The alien cuts off the hissing noise that is their equivalent of a sob. ‘I have to go.’
The alien spends a week in their spaceship, the only place they can send communication to their Mother. When they come back, their carapace is a glistening new shade of red, and they’ve ended up as a different gender. When the lab adviser asks them how they are feeling about Megan-
‘Megan? Oh, yes, my previous version was very fond of Megan.’ The alien cocks their head, like a particularly thoughtful bird. ‘I suppose that I regret her loss. She was a valuable member of the team.’
The lab adviser lets this be- they are aliens after all. But later, when lab hours are done, the adviser notices Six double and triple-checking all the lab equipment, especially- well. The accident that took Megan will never happen again.
The book is never returned.
Now imagine the flip side: Sevan finds out his human friend is due to have a baby in six months. Six months! He asks, and finds that no, there’s no way to delay a human birth. In six months, a new version of his friend will emerge. Will they still like space operas? What about visiting that smoothie place in quadrant 6? Will they even still want to be friends?
His friend asks him to be visit the baby, after it’s born. Of course, of course he will. It’s the least he can do. There’s always that vulnerable phase after birth when you haven’t got the hang of the new motor controls, and everyone needs a helping palp for the first few months.
The night he hears that the new baby has been born, he wails quietly and recites the qualities of his friend that he will miss the most.
Three days later, he gathers his resolve and knocks on the hatch of his friend’s place. Strangely, the access panel hasn’t been lowered - rude. He’ll make sure that’s one of the first things changed. His friends partner opens the door and lets him in and there - there is his friend,looking tired but well, a miniature copy of herself held in her arms. Imagine his joy when he finds out that not only will he get to spend longer with his current friend, but there will be another friend to get to know!
ah yes they call me “No Queue” Jones because I post everything I reblog at once with no breaks in between and then vanish into the night for extended periods of inactivity
can i just give a special shoutout to all the fedex, UPS, and mail delivery people because they work hard as fuck especially this time of year like my family had a combined total of like 30 different packages in the past few weeks and the delivery people really did #that
imagine being a han/leia shipper in 1983 and you’ve spent three years hearing from the luke/leia shippers how there’s no chance of han/leia happening because han’s probably dead now and besides the empire strikes back literally ended with luke and leia holding each other and staring into deep space so like obviously you’re an idiot for shipping han/leia and you need to get with the winning team… and then imagine going into that movie… and walking out of that movie… imagine that level of schadenfreude and personal satisfaction
not to sound too millennial here but it annoys me so much when I’m at a restaurant and someone I’m with will complain about the service being slow like buddy pal it’s fine it’s not that important
You didn’t waited 40 minutes for a dinner before haven’t you?
i have but i also have, like, real problems
I waited well over an hour for food once at IHOP, because it kept coming out inedible.
We finally asked what was going on, and it turns out that the ONLY cook had been working for 36 hours straight with only a short nap.
I ordered the easiest thing to make, tipped the waitress heavily, and sent her back to the cook with a $10 tip for them, too, AFTER watching the 24-hour restaurant close the doors so that they could send the cook home for some rest.
Yeah, I’ve waited 40 minutes for my dinner, and I didn’t ask for a discount, we tipped VERY well, and sent the cook our best wishes.
If something goes wrong with your restaurant experience, consider that there are real people back there, working under god knows what conditions.
do older generations not get fatalistic humor?? like the other day my friend’s parents were hanging around and we were joking and i was like “well no matter what i can always fling myself off the nearest cliff” and they didn’t laugh then later the mom pulled me aside and was like “maybe you should get some help, sweetie” like stfu?? help? in this economy? i don’t think so, debra
I honestly don’t think they get it as a coping mechanism, they think it’s a cry for help rather than actually helping.
i’d even say it’s past just coping and is also now a category of Stuff Kids Got Used To When No One Was Looking; not everyone using that humor is even covering up something bigger, we just stopped thinking fatalistic = taboo/unspeakable somewhere along the line, and most parents don’t seem to know why or how ~
My boss opened a door and missed me by inches, he said “whoops, almost killed you there!” My result of “Oh, if only.” Led to an awkward end of shift debrief.
This generation shares the same humor as the goddamn Addams Family and the previous generation is the White Sixties Family™ that lives next door and runs away screaming at the end of the episode
When the previous mentality was “suffer through work/marriage then retire” why is it a surprise the next stage is “i might as well end the suffering now”
Interesting fact: the more fucked up the person from a previous generation you’re talking to is, the more likely they are to get this kind of humor. My mother taught me all the fatalistic humor I know, and she needs all the therapy. My dad is only slightly less prone to it (he’s a nicer person than my mom or me).
So…fatalistic humor plays well with depression and trauma, which says some real interesting shit about Kids These Days.
A Christmas Carol is so wild to me because it takes not one, not two, but like four fucking ghosts to convince this dude not to be the biggest douche in the universe. Like, four fucking ghosts came back from the dead, rose from the Goddamn grave to be like, “I came back from the dead because you need to quit your shit.” Fuck. How big of an asshole do you have to be to have four fucking ghosts tell you to stop?
alright buckle up motherfuckers, i’m about to school y’all about this wonderful show called Leverage.
let’s start with the premise: they’re a bunch of criminals who come together to work as a team and to “pick up where the law leaves off.” aka: they do illegal shit to legally take out the bad guys, i.e. framing/ruining the reputation of/revealing actual law-breaking by embezzling rich politicians, dirty cops, corporations doing secret shit on the down-low, etc.
each episode is a different bad guy they need to take down for doing something terrible, and each episode they come up with a different scheme to take them out. the team consists of: the hacker, the hitter, the grifter, the thief, and the mastermind behind all their plots. they’re all thieves at one point or another, they all grift, and they all contribute to the plan, but these are their Roles. i’ll go more in-depth on the characters in a sec.
now, i know what you’re thinking already: “wow bruh this show must be edgy af, being about actual criminals doing super illegal shit???” bUT NO. THIS SHOW COULD HAVE BEEN SO DARK BASED ON THE CONCEPT, BUT IT’S LITERALLY THE NICEST, MOST ENJOYABLE SHOW EVER.
it’s also SERIOUSLY unproblematic????? like to unrealistic levels. like Nate’s alcoholism is treated with respect and not just something he “gets over,” but despite his issues, he’s held accountable for when he’s a dick, Parker is pretty clearly neurodivergent and she’s never!! forced to be anything else!!!! anyway i could go on and on.
he’s the mastermind, he’s brilliant and the genius behind each of their convoluted plans. he’s a jerk sometimes, and grouchy, but he’s got good reason, and he NEVER crosses over into “angsty white man justifies his assholery because of his Issues.” he used to work for an insurance company tracking down criminals and thieves before A Thing happened and he became the Dad of a group of them. he makes bad life choices, so i relate. also his son died and he has a rad ex-wife and he struggles with alcoholism. we love him.
she’s the grifter. she’s a great actress but only when she’s breaking the law it’s a running gag. she’s terrible on an actual stage l m a o. she’s the Mom of the group, and she and Nate are lowkey flirting the entire show. she tells it like it is, but is v compassionate. sassy af. british af. would probably console you about your husband leaving you before stealing your rare artifacts. high-class which shows in the fact that she was primarily an art thief before joining the team. i wouldn’t trust her with my jewelry, but i’d tell her all my secrets, and tbh that’s the best summary of her character that you’ll get.
hooooooooooo boy. where do i begin to describe Eliot Spencer? wel, for starters, he’s the “hitter” of the group aka he beats people up when they can’t sneak their way in or out of a place. or when things go wrong. he’s super fucking badass oh my god??? like i’m pretty sure there’s maybe only one or two times in the ENTIRE. SHOW. that he can’t win a fight?? he also has a Super Secret Dark Past bc he used to be a hitman for hire, which he regrets deeply and is happy to have changed bUT AGAIN!! IT’S NOT A WHITE MALE ANGST THING. he isn’t obsessed with attoning for his actions and his scenes aren’t eaten up with Angst and Melodrama. he also has anger issues, but again, it’s not the same stereotype that you’re used to. he controls it, and he never takes it on on anybody who doesn’t deserve it (aka the bad guys). he gets around with women but he’s not sexist?? he cares about his partners.
also he’s a hardcore chef and will Fite You about food. anyway Eliot is basically the Broody White Man With Dark Past trope turned on it’s head. he’s lovable and sarcastic and could kill a man but would prefer to make you an Omelette Du Fromage or some shit.
this is my baby. he’s a nerd and a geek and I Would Die For Him. he’s basically everything that’s good and pure in the world. the epitome of a cinnamon roll. he’s sweet and gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly–unless that fly is a corrupt ceo personally doing dirty business, in which case that motherfucker is going down with the help of his epic hacking skills. btw did i mention he’s the hacker? yeah. he’s super fucking smart and his sense of humor could rival the sahara desert in dryness. he always makes star trek references and he has a gr8 fashion style and he irritates Eliot to no end, lmao. #platoniclifepartners, tbh. did i mention he’s the sweetest person ever? no? he is.
she’s the thief, and predictably, she loves money and expensive things. tbh she’d probably stab you faster than anybody else on the team would (and has) but also she is smol and needs to be protected. she’s a killer rabbit. she’s an oddball and in the beginning, most of the others don’t know what to make of her, but they grow used to her. she’s nd af, probably autistic, and Does Not Understand Socialization. same, Parker, same. guess what? she’s never forced into acting like somebody she’s not!! when she has to be the grifter for the con job and interact with people, she’s patiently coached by Sophie, who never belittles or mocks her, and explains it in ways she can understand. she’s weird and i love her.
did i mention how unproblematic this show is? i did? well too fucking bad because i’m gonna say it again: this show is so unproblematic. like what i already said with Nate’s addiction and Parker’s neurodivergence, but wAIT! THERE’S MORE.
Eliot hates guns–detests them–and won’t use them, he’s like constantly grabbing the mooks’ guns and unloading them and tossing them somewhere and it’s basically a huge trigger for him. and it’s always respected. also there’s scenes where like in the middle of a job Parker has to change into a costume and neither of men who are attracted to her–Eliot and Hardison–sneak a peak at her. they both look away during that shit and there is like, never any gross sexist jokes about it. or other things. i love it. also any romantic relationship that develops takes season of growth and shit. there’s nothing particularly Gay, but while heterosexual, it’s not Het.
the recurring antagonist is played by Mark Sheppard, a character called Sterling, who is basically a lawful good Crowley.
also one time they stole an entire country.
Leverage is fucking rad, and the concept is amazing and it coulda been so edgy and shit, but it’s literally so pure and sweet and friggin hilarious and about a bunch of people becoming a family and you need to watch it, my friend. now.
like immediately go google a page to watch it i’m not fucking kidding do it.
