#harlequinade

[rwbyvein]

Harlequinade: Offering

Jessica: I crossed dimensions just to see you.

Pyrrha: I defeated the Brothers in the afterlife to be here.

Ilia: I... uh... okay, I'm not as powerful as they are, but I can give you something they can't.

Pyrrha (curious, challenging): Oh?

Ilia: I can give you my lesbian gold star.

Jaune: *intrigued*

Pyrrha: *bicurious*

Jessica: If... if make out with Pyrrha first, would that... I mean?..

Ilia: You can't get a gold star just by being bicurious.

Pyrrha: *still looking at her salaciously*

Ilia: You have to be a lifelong lesbian.

Pyrrha (to Jessica): Mayhap bronze?

Ilia: It's not about effort, as it's entirely possible to be a lesbian, and a complete failure at being a lesbians. Look, the point is, I've never felt anything like this with a man other than Jaune. It changed who I am at my very core.

. . .

Ilia: I can also throw in race-play.

Pyrrha: *even more curious*

Jessica: Yellow play.

Jaune: I... I'm not... I mean...

Jessica: Green lanterns lose their powers to the colour yellow.

Jaune: . . .

Jessica: What did you think I meant?

Jaune (nervously): I... I didn't...

Jaune: *looks at Jessica and Pyrrha*

Jaune: I'm honoured, but...

Jaune: *looks at Ilia*

Jaune: She's just so cute.

Pyrrha: I just want to eat her up. I would like to propose a compromise.

Pyrrha: *looks at Jessica and then Ilia*

Pyrrha: Some of us will have to compromise more than other.

Jessica: *incredibly nervous*

Ilia: That's not exactly a drawback.

Pyrrha (giddily): Then, are we agreed?

Penny 3.0: I don't mean to interrupt, but...

Jessica: And how exactly did she come here?

Penny 3.0: Oh, she's been a fantastic friend.

Jessica: In... the afterlife?..

Pyrrha: I'm sorry, but were kind of trapped. Forced to watch as you wage your war.

Penny 3.0: She's not complaining.

Penny 3.0 (to Jaune): So, anyway I can be compromised as well?

[lovelyballetandmore]

Marcus Morelli | The Australian Ballet | Photo by Tristram Kenton

[klaunee]

[OC] Harlequinade

[arcadegh0st]

Things coming in the mail soon:

My luck has been unhinged lately.

But I have had a few things end up upside down like buying a pink whipped magic jsk only to see someone else list the whole set for the same price right after I paid (and thus cannot back out lol).

Someone backing out of their offer to sell me their magical milk cats jsk, find and buy one elsewhere and then they decide they wanna sell it to me after all…? (i guess this isn’t bad luck on my part but it still sorta sucked and I felt bad having to say no after the fact)

I still got a bunch of taobao stuff on preorder and to pick up from a friend tomorrow that I forgot about so I’ll do a photoblog of that tomorrow 🥰

[houppellande]

Muscadins costumes from “Harlequinade” - by Robert Perdziola

[diagonal-queen]

instead of both constantly pursuing columbina, harlequin and pierrot should have just banged each other instead. literally all of their problems would have been solved if they just had gay clown sex

[countess--olenska]

Costume design for Columbine in Harlequinade, by Robert Perdziola.

[crypticpawpoems]

The Harlequinade's Beginning

I came expecting to deal with the insane.

I never thought I’d become one.

“Dr. Harleen Quinzel?”

“Call me Harley; everyone does.”

I’ve always been fascinated with the human mind

And the most colorful are those of the insane.

I walk and hear a tune, a haunting tune that at the same time

Sounds like it could be heard at a carnival.

I pass. He winks. I stop and look and blush.

Who is he? What secrets does he hold?

His looks are interesting, almost comical.

His face like snow, his hair like a trimmed hedge, his smile like a running red river.

“Be careful,” she warns me.

“He’s dangerous,” she tells me.

“The most difficult mind to crack,” she says.

Really? Interesting, very interesting.

In my office, all new and cleaned, waiting for an inhabitant, me.

Something is waiting for me on my desk,

Catches my eye glittering in the moonlight.

A rose.

A simple, single, red rose.

From J. From J? But how? J must mean him.

I’ll discover his meaning at the source.

I go back. I go back and see him, J, the one who made me blush.

“How did this get into my office? You must’ve gotten out of your cell.

I’ll alert the guards, you know.”

“If you didn’t care, you would have done so long ago,” he says.

He’s right. Can he see into my eyes? Into my soul?

No one has been able to do that before.

It makes me edgy, uncertain, paranoid even, but touched.

“Harley Quinzel,” he says in a silky voice, as smooth as clear waters.

“Mix it up a bit, and you get Harley Quinn!”

“Like the clown character, I know. I’ve heard it before.”

It wasn’t the first time and certainly wasn’t the last.

I didn’t have time to be mocked, made fun of, so I started to walk away.

He called after me, “Wait!”

So I heard him out, and I’m glad I did.

“You’re someone who I feel like I can relate to,

someone I could share my secrets with.”

And that was all it took, all it ever took, for me to become intrigued.

How could I say no

to the opportunity to unscramble the most challenging mind in the asylum?

Was it just because of that? Maybe...maybe not.

The sessions were slow and long, and I remained professional.

Bit by bit, story by story, he chipped away at me.

His tales made me laugh so hard that I cried.

Others made me shed a tear out of pity.

He told me of a caped hero dressed in black who always foiled his plots and plans.

In time, I came to hate the dark hero, too.

Every story, he would come in and interrupt my angel from having his fun.

He had such a rough childhood, and all he wanted was to have fun, enjoy himself.

As much as I’d hate to admit it,

I had fallen in love with my patient.

“Do you think that’s crazy?” I said to him.

“Not at all. You’re a woman of business, and you just needed to unwind and have a good time.”

He and I had switched places, and I was so blinded in love that I didn’t realize how he had craftily wrapped me around his finger.

“Thanks, Doc,” I said,

“Anytime.”

Night vanished and morning came and the first thing I noticed was that he was gone, escaped, all alone in the world and vulnerable to harm.

I was frantic, emotional, on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to come home.

The day passed and night came again.

He returned, but not how I would’ve liked.

I pushed, shoved, elbowed my way through the other doctors to get to him.

Beside him was the ebony justice that he and I despised so much,

Who I loathed even more now that he brought my angel back in such a battered and beat-up state.

I caught him when he fell, held him, comforted him.

Then they dragged him away, away from me, away from my support, away from my love.

In despair, I visited him later after he had been bandaged up only to find him weakened and hurt.

I had to do something, had to make a stand, a change, a difference.

I was done looking back, back to the past.

The time to act was now, to do something I would never ever regret for the rest of my life.

I would give my angel his Harley Quinn.

The toy store had just the right items to break him loose.

The funniest toys were turned into the most deadly weapons.

The clerk soon found out as his unconscious body fell to the stone-hard floor.

As soon as I had nabbed that mask and costume,

Harleen Quinzel had died, and Harley Quinn was born.

Now back in Arkham, I felt changed.

No longer would I roam the halls as an inquisitive psychologist,

But as a deranged criminal.

Under the cover of night, I silently took out any guards in my path until I returned to his cell.

It was risky planting a bomb on the glass and I almost doubted myself if not for his face, the look of his glorious face.

Tick, tick, tick, BOOM!!!

He was awake when I appeared, my astounding introduction now revealed to the entire world seemingly by this very act.

“Knock, knock, Puddin’! Here’s your new and improved Harley Quinn!”

Not only did I act differently, I spoke differently, too.

No more business, no more professionalism, no more rules, just fun, fun, fun!

The car was ready to go and he laughed and laughed all the way out of there and with each chuckle came a surge of happiness within me.

This would be the start of my happily ever after.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Follow on TikTok @crypticpaw.official

[v-thinks-on]

At centre stage stands Harlequin patterned in diamonds like panes of glass stained in brilliant hues, a dark mask over his eyes, and baton in hand. His gestures are broad; wave of stick, turn of head, pirouette of legs. Yet, his movement is fleet, dodging and taunting the bumbling Pierrot, and dancing with the lovely Columbine.

With his baton, he transforms the scene from parlour to avenue to sprightly woods, and the players from maids and gentlemen to lords and ladies or even to birds and beasts. He traipses through walls and weaves in and out of sight in impossible leaps and bounds.

Yet, for all his trickery, his face remains impassive, except perhaps a knowing look in his shadowed eyes. Each movement is deliberate without hesitation, each step lighter than air. He is a man of mystery, yet in familiar form. His lips hide countless secrets, yet he will never say a word.

(Read More on AO3)

[twistedtummies2]

Year of the Bat - Number 12

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “Life used to be so placid! Won’t you PLEASE put down that acid?! And Say That We’re Sweethearts Again!” Number 12 is…Harlequinade.

Ladies and gents…let’s discuss Harley Quinn for a bit, shall we? I’ve been saving up the chance to really dive into Harley till now, because I felt it was important to wait till this episode for reasons I’ll go into. Almost without any argument or doubt, Harley Quinn is the single greatest and most lasting legacy that “Batman: The Animated Series” left behind. Of all the characters and concepts that the show fostered or expanded on, Harley is the one who truly broke the mold: an original character made for the series, she started off as sort of that one semi-obscure Batman Villain that only “real fans” who loved the TV show knew about…then started to make her way into more mainstream recognition, slowly at first, and then suddenly with explosive intensity. She’s now got her own TV show, a couple of movies with her as the main character, and more comics than you can shake a stick at, not to mention numerous other adaptations in other media. For me, however, the version from the DCAU will always be the truest and greatest version of her character: the first and still the best. Harley was originally voiced by Arleen Sorkin, and the character was partially inspired by her, as well. I say “partially” because Harley’s truest inspiration – and this is most obvious in her earliest appearances – were the henchgirls that frequently popped up in the 1960s Batman TV Series. (In fact, there are at least two specific henchgirls who I am convinced directly influenced Harley’s character, since both seem almost identical to her.) Over time, the character became more fleshed out and really blossomed into a major player in her own right. In my opinion, the episode that OFFICIALLY settled Harley as a mainstay was this one: “Harlequinade.”

The plot begins with the Joker stealing a nuclear bomb, of all things, and then going into hiding. Knowing time is of the essence, Batman and Robin decide to team up with the person they know is closest to the Joker’s cold, black heart: Harley Quinn. Harley agrees to help the Dynamic Duo out in finding the Joker and dealing with the bomb, in exchange for an early release from Arkham Asylum. What follows is a wild, chaotic ride of hijinks and shenanigans, as the trio bounce around Gotham trying to track down the Joker, complete with a random musical number…yes really.

This, I feel, is the episode that really put Harley on the map. Before this, yes, we knew she was a fun character, and she had a lot of great lines and moments, but she was always in another person’s shadow, whether it be the Joker, Poison Ivy, or even both. This, the Honorable Mention “Harley’s Holiday,” and one other episode I’ll get to later in the countdown really solidified her as a proper character in her own right. We learn more about Harley in this story, with little hints to her backstory and a better idea of her philosophy and motivations. We also get a greater idea of her beyond just being a villain, as she proves to be a surprisingly capable helper and even shows signs of right thinking. She’s not as far gone as the Joker is, she has things she values and cares about that make her more human and sympathetic. You can really see this episode as the start of where Harley would go in later/more recent years, with her becoming less of a villainess and more of an anti-hero: a wild card who can’t always be trusted, but makes for a surprisingly great ally in a tight pinch. It’s not by any means the darkest or most complex story, nor even the greatest look into Harley’s mind and personality we ever got…but it’s a LOT of fun, and one of the main stories that helped to make Harley who she is now, for better or for worse.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 11! Hint: “Why don’t you show them what an overdose can do, Daggett? Why don’t you tell them about ME?!”

[littlebigfodas]

Arlequinado

Agora, de uma forma bem mais íntima do que o de costume, falando bem para quem me conhece, vou explicar o mais claro possível o motivo de eu gostar tanto da Arlequina. Sim, acho que vale a pena, ainda mais que aqui é um espaço em que me deixo despido de qualquer vergonha.

De forma breve, Arlequina é uma personagem do universo do Batman, cuja existência inicialmente se baseava em ter a aprovação do Coringa, o arqui-inimigo do Homem-Morcego. Ela se apaixonou pelo palhaço quando este era seu paciente no manicômio de Arkham, pois ao seu ver, ele havia se aberto a ela diferentemente de qualquer outra pessoa que ele havia se consultado, e também ela na perspectiva de não ter tido a valorização de alguém no campo romântico antes. A grosso modo, a princesa-palhaça não tinha amor-próprio, tinha uma necessidade enorme de aprovação alheia, e dependia disso para viver. A questão é que nunca houve amor dele para com ela, era apenas mais uma manipulação. Essa constante tortura mental, abusos físicos e psicológicos, a quebraram. Quebraram toda a noção dela da realidade, apenas para ganhar a aprovação do seu pudinzinho.

Ela de fato achava que toda aquela opressão era demonstração de afeto, de alguma forma. Ele a jogava fora, mas quando ele precisasse de algo, bastava apenas uma migalha para que ela voltasse a ele. E, sempre, esperava uma mudança pois o que ela mais queria era ser amada. Não tinha nem uma visão do que era ser completa sem ter um terceiro. E toda essa violência deixou sequelas, tão extremas que são percebidas a olho nu. Remixou a visão dela da realidade, e tudo ficou mais difícil.

Mexo nos meus porta-retratos empoeirados na galeria mental e percebo como os via distorcidos. Aqueles aos quais me submeti um papel de arlequim, de bobo-da-corte, me fizeram ficar ali. Ou melhor, me fizeram acreditar que eu estava ali. Me sequestraram debaixo do meu nariz, para ocupar um papel de bicho de pelúcia para abraçar ao final da noite para que não se sentissem sozinhos. E foda-se se me apertassem demais, eu não estava vivo mesmo, não iria reclamar, né?

E daí vejo a identificação, a lamentável identificação. Porém, hoje, assim como ela, houve uma emancipação. Não dependo do meu “pudinzinho” para viver. Mas, sigo, assim como ela, sozinho e com muitas sequelas. Completo, sim, mas com sequelas. Entender que a essência pura e genuína de alguém aberto ao amor não pode ser apagada por alguns “pudinzinhos” é difícil, confesso. Mas o mais difícil é entender o que é um “pudinzinho” e não ser atraído pra ele.

O gosto no início chega a ser nostálgico, pois ele te fez se sentir vivo. Te tirou da sua zona de conforto, e botou tudo ao limite do precipício. O amor eufórico; o amor bandido, é o que dizem né? Aquilo se tornou o padrão, e quando o corpo e a mente se deparam com algo que não te mantenha em estado de alerta e sobrevivência, é algo “sem graça”.

Já perdi a conta de quantas vezes conheci alguém e disse “ah, ele é um amor mas não sinto aquele ‘fogo’ por ele, sabe?” Ou seja, ele não é um “pudinzinho”. Se ele não me faz refém da situação, não tem emoção. A síndrome de Estocolmo não me deixava ver o quão saudável uma relação poderia ser. Sabe aquelas “borboletas no estômago”? Então, elas são do mal.

Mas a nossa palhacinha também teve uma descoberta: o grande foda-se para o que estavam esperando que ela fosse. “Queriam que eu fosse a menina de ouro? Pois então…”. O quanto isso isso foi libertador; jogar o esperado para o alto; esmagar essas cabeças invisíveis que gritavam o que eu tinha que ser… como foi bom.

E parece que por mais que houvesse uma morte da personalidade do antigo eu, aquilo virou uma festa. E sempre, para cada renascimento, há uma morte. Então o que nos resta é aproveitar. Como ela mesma diz: “let’s put the ‘FUN’ in ‘FUNeral’!”

E, acredite, foi difícil entender esse apreço pela personagem. Foi difícil admitir. Houveram vezes em que eu me negava em admitir que era fã da Arlequina, pois era como admitir o quão invadida minha cabeça era, e o quanto eu era envergonhado por isso. Mas não, hoje o orgulho de estar livre dessas amarras é o que move todas as acrobacias aéreas que enfatizam como encaro cada censo hetero-normativo ridículo e circense.

De fato alguns sequestros aconteceram, me roubaram, mas isso não me define. Eu arlequinei, mas faço valer cada uma das minhas cicatrizes.

[theartisticendeavor]

Original Art - Harlequin (1962)

Art by Vigil Finlay

[lovelyballetandmore]

Derek Drilon | The Joffrey Ballet

[slugbutter]

being home sick has made me realise how fucking dry youtube has been lately. maybe i need to play with the algorithm a bit, maybe i need to reset my attention span- but at present? a wizened ol' timeline, have i.

[isawhitney]

Pierrot

Parrot, pale, wraith-

Like I turn to face

The mirror with a

Human trace of

Love, betrayal,

Nothing. Oh,

Pitiful Pierrot,

I tell my phantom

Form, oh wandr’ing

Minstrel thou,

You know you

Are not enough to

Ache. Now I run

Each gloved hand

Over glass, glossing

Copperplate - I am

Too poor for silver.

I am lack, an empty

Place at table,

A black spot on

The Eris apple that

Pulses with rot.

All white, my corpse

Finger finely probes

The mirror. Cold,

As my lady is

Warm. Hard, as her

Skin is supple. White,

As is my face and

Dry unseeded love.

Enough.

[theamazingtechnicolordreamcock]