Japan, the country with some of the most fucked up pornography and the penis festival
Where the vagina is basically illegal to talk about
So she did a bunch of art featuring 3D sculptures of her vagina, including this kayak, and was put in jail for it
She was indicted again in December on obscenity charges for selling vagina art to crowdfund for the kayak and could spend two years in prison
In Japan, women’s vaginas are treated as though they are men’s property. The trains here usually display pornographic advertisements. As a woman, I find that blatant objectification to be humiliating. I’m disgusted by it. My body belongs to me. So, with this project I wanted to release the vagina from the standard Japanese paradigm. Japan is lenient towards expressions of male sexuality and arousal, but not so for women. When a woman uses her body in artistic expression, her work gets ignored, and people treat her as if she’s some sex-crazed idiot. It all comes back to misogyny. And the vagina is at the heart of it. The vagina is ridiculed. It’s lusted after. Men don’t see women as equals—to them, women are just vaginas. Then they call my vagina-themed work “obscene,” and judge me according to laws written by and for men. [x]
She plans to turn her trial in to a manga comic. She seems pretty sure she’s not going to do any jail time but if you’d like to help her pay for her inevitable fine and court fees, you can check out her online store. There are little glow in the dark vagina characters.
Wow I’ve seen this reblogged a ton of times without seeing the whole going to jail part.
Here’s a recent article about her from July of 2017. It looks like she did some brief time in jail, and is currently still working on this artistic effort, as well as trying to raise awareness about a new terrorism law and the jail/prison system in Japan.
- Jim and Molly don’t actually break up and Moriarty also chooses the route of MH&MH Fake-Suicide Services. After their first meeting Molly comes home and just sort of slowly meets Jim’s eyes and says, “I think I may have a crush on him,” but Jim’s rather unexpected response is a, “Oh, thank God. Me too,”
AU where Molly reads the Sherlock Holmes books and is smitten by his brilliancy. One day, in a hurry, she makes a quick medical note on the last page of her worn out favourite, an old copy she bought in a tiny book shop. When she checks it days later, there’s another sentence there which is not her handwriting.
What is penicillin?
Molly’s understanding of reality will never be the same.
They start…talking. She watches him write the words, soon the most beautiful sight in her world.
For weeks they discuss medical problems. By now he prefers her advice more than Dr. Watson’s and her heart sings whenever she thinks about it.
Eventually, the written cross-reality conversation become more personal. She just has to know if this is real, feeling that she’s beginning to drown in him, in this, whatever this is. She asks him things that aren’t in the books, stupid things, what is favourite colour is (to which he only replies that he’s a grown man), what his fondest memory is of his childhood.
He talks about Redbeard and, dear Lord, it sounds all so real, his pain, his grief.
She believes it all. Maybe she truly has gotten mad.
I have never spoken to anyone about him, not even Watson.
She shouldn’t feel special…but she does.
She shares her dad with him, how he suffered through his sickness, so many chemos, all the pain in vein. She’s never shared this with anyone, how much she had suffered with him, how angry she was at the doctors, how this is the reason for choosing medicine as her own path, how she’s fallen in love with pathology along the way.
She asks him of Barts. He tells her about the morgue in his world and when she actually finds the old rooms deep down in the cellar, she is more confused than ever.
As an experiment, I have carved my initials into the stone. See if it’s there.
It is. Dear Lord in Heaven, it is. Her fingers slide over the rough S and H. She weeps, not knowing why. But there is longing in her now, such a need to be with him and such an ache in her heart that she isn’t.
She calls him Sherlock from now on. He never comments on it. They are both so confused and fascinated by all of this. He tells her to leave a message for him, so she carves her initials next to his, fighting the urge to add a + between their names and carve a heart around them.
She really is mental.
But by God, he finds her initials.
This is all insane.
I left something for you. Behind the stone.
When she returns, the brick is loose. Breaking several nails she pulls it out of the wall. Her heart stops drumming when she finds a pipe, new and polished. A pipe he has touched and put there, for her.
You said your father smoked and how fond you were of the smell of the pipe, so I deduced it to be likely you picked up the habit.
She smiles and caresses his written words before she thanks him and tells him no, she didn’t, she’s a doctor and has seen too many smoker lungs to be in the least tempted, and that he should stop if he wants to live a long and happy life.
Boring
Is it, though? Doesn’t he want a family at one point? She blushes as she writes the question.
I take it you’re married, then?
Her heart skips a beat and replies no, she’s still waiting for the One, and wonders if it makes him happy that she’s single, that he hopes that she is thinking of him when she speaks if the One.
Good. Watson just got married and doesn’t stop tittering on about the bliss of married life.
Mary Morstan. Molly gasps. She’s read all the books, she knows she is going to die. For almost an hour she stares at the page, contemplating whether she should, if it would destroy this impossible connection to his time/reality/dimension/whatever.
Biting her lip, she hasitly starts scribbling, praying that this is not some big, world destructing mistake.
Even though it is never explained how she died, Sherlock and Watson manage to save her.
How did you know?
The question she dreaded ever since she wrote the warning. It takes several days of silence before she is brave enough to tell him that in her world, he is nothing but a story, and she cries, tear drops falling onto the page, smudging the ink, cursing how unfair it is that she fell in love with a fictional character. She wants to run into the old morgue and squeeze herself into the little square hole in the wall so she can be with him.
That’s what gives her the idea to leave a copy of the first book in the stone, leaving a message on the front page.
To me, you are more real than the wind on my face and the stars in the sky
~ Molly
It’s cheesy, yes, but she’s hurting. She wants to tell him how she feels, daring to hope that he feels the same.
But all her hopes are shattered when he writes back.
Who is Molly?
A former lover? he teases playfully.
All this time he thought she was a man. She laughs and cries at the same time as she explains.
She only cries when he doesn’t write back.
*
Days pass. Weeks. Her eyes are always wet, her chest feels numb and empty.
Eventually, she forces herself to stop checking the page, puts the book back on the shelf, behind another row so she doesn’t have to see it.
She goes back to living her life, although it feels wrong, all of it. She doesn’t feel at home here anymore. Not without him.
But she is strong. She refuses to whither away because a man rejected her. She manages, somehow.
She teaches herself to feel normal again.
Almost half a year passes, then she meets Tom. He is the first man who makes her laugh after Sherlock. She likes him. Spends time with him, feels comfortable in his company.
They start dating. He proposes. It’s too soon, not even six months, but she says yes, anyway. She has put her life on hold long enough. She wants a home and a family.
She is picking out a wedding dress with Meena. Ridiculously and of course because life is just like that to her, a Victorian style dress suits her best. As her hand travels down the beautiful lace front, she thinks of him, only him. Wonders what he is doing, if he has deleted her from his mind palace already.
Just when she’s drowning in memories of scribbled words on a worn blank page her ears catch his name. The woman at the cash register is speaking on the phone.
“…an unfinished manuscript, yes. Found by one of his ancestors. They say it was supposed to be the finale. Sherlock Holmes’ love story…no, not Adler. She never loved him and it was only one story…they say it’s some sort of mystery, that the plot doesn’t make much sense, that they suspect Doyle wrote it in anger since the crazy fans wouldn’t leave him alone…I hope they publish it. ‘The diamond in the stone’ sounds interesting.”
The diamond in the stone…
The ground beneath her quakes, her heart stops as she understands.
She starts running. The clerk shouts after her. Meena shouts after her. She doesn’t stop running, to a cab, to Barts, down to old morgue. Breaking the skin of her fingertips, she pulls out the brick with their initials, carelessly drops it.
Tears well up in her eyes as she sees the diamond ring. She cries as she picks it up, smearing blood on it.
Laughing and sobbing she presses it to her heart, then she slips it on her right ring finger…above Tom’s.
She thinks of him only a second, then she starts running again, to her flat. With a swoosh she tosses the first row of books to the floor and hastily grabs his book, the diamond on her finger sparkling.
Molly
Molly?
Molly, please.
Forgive me
Molly…
Her name, all over the page
I have been a fool
I can’t do without you
Please
I left something in the stone. If you accept, come to Baker Street. I found a way.
Come. Be with me. Be my wife.
Dearest Molly.
My beloved.
Through a curtain of tears she reads the instructions. Dear heaven, he really found a way.
Sprinting through the flat she packs some things, mostly medicine, her favourite pj, a bit of lingerie (blushing whilst doing it), some toiletries, his books, some medical books he will enjoy, a picture of her parents and last but not least his pipe. Her big bag is packed but she hardly feels the weight as she slings it over her shoulder.
She is almost out the door when she remembers Tom. She looks down her hand with the two engagement rings. She feels bad, but the choice is the easiest of her life.
Going into the kitchen, she slips off the rings and puts Tom’s on the kitchen table, leaving him a note saying she’s sorry to hurt him. She should write more, explain, call him, but she doesn’t want to be another second without the man she loves.
The trip to Baker Street takes forever, but eventually, she arrives with a fast beating heart. The tourist attraction is closed for the day, thank goodness. Following his instructions, she finds the key hidden beneath another brick, puts it into the keyhole with a fast beating heart.
She unlocks the door. A moment of nausea, her head spinning. Then she opens, steps over the threshold.
Silence, except for the ticking of a clock. Smells of tobacco, baking and wood.
They are pleasant in her nose and she feels…relieved.
Taking a few deep breaths, she opens her mouth, her heart drumming in her chest.
“Sherlock?”
Porcelain shatters, the legs of a chair scratch across the floor. Footsteps thundering down the stairs.
When she finally sees him, standing on the landing, Molly knows she’s come home.
“Molly”, he pants, recognizing her without ever seeing her and he hastes down the rest of the stairs.
He crushes her against him as soon as he reaches her and a laugh bubbles out of her as she wraps her arms around him. The feel and smell of him is so familiar. She is meant to be here, with him. She feels it in every cell of her body.
“Molly, God, Molly”, Sherlock whispers. His voice is unique, rich, but she has heard it inside her head with every word he’s written. He couldn’t have had a different voice.
“I love you”, she says into his camel dressing gown, smiling brightly, pulling him closer.
A shiver runs through him, then his hands touch her hair, her face, his fingers warm and ever soft on her skin.
He looks at her, his ocean eyes teary, just like hers.
“My dearest, my love…Molly…I thought I lost you. I’ve given up hope, but here you are…here you are, in the flesh. You’re real…Molly…”
She giggles and caresses his cheeks as if she’s done it a thousand times before.
“Sorry I’m late. Work was killing”, she whispers, grinning.
It takes him a second, then he laughs. They can’t stop touching each other.
“It all right. You’re home now”, he says softly and that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Home”, she whispers and then finally he kisses her, pressing her against him, arms holding her tight.
She surprises him by slipping her tongue into his mouth, she can tell by the jolt that rushes through him. She smiles against his full, soft lips, just so bloody happy, and he smiles back before he answers the teasing lick of her tongue with a demanding one of his own.
They end up pressed against the front door, snogging like there is no tomorrow, until a door opens and a squeal erupts behind them.
“Good God, you’re real”, a male voice gasps.
Dr. Watson, his wife and Mrs. Hudson are standing in the doorway. Reluctantly, the lovers break apart. Sherlock is holding her hand as he introduces them.
the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy is presents a romance-style female-focused fantasy adventure, which is rare for blockbuster movies.
- you are Keira Knightley, the high-spirited and ever so slightly spoiled child of a doting father who happens to be the governor
- every man in the world is crazy about you, from the dashing naval officer who asks for your hand in marriage to the handsome young blacksmith’s apprentice who you met as a child and feel a strong bond with to the devilish pirate lord who saves your life and flirts with you shamelessly and you make out with him once but it’s for a good cause
- you have two weddings, one where you femme it up and then it turns all emo when it rains on your wedding day and the groom is dragged off in chains by another guy who secretly has the hots for you and then you have a second wedding where you dress as a man because you’re the pirate king now and you exchange custom vows and witty banter during a sword fight with zombies
I WANT TO KNOW THE STORY BEHIND THIS. I HONESTLY THOUGHT THEY WERE LOVERS.
Okay, okay, so short version:
Joker seduced Harley while he was in Arkham and she was his psychologist. He did so by manipulating sessions to make him seem pitiable.
Harley broke Joker out. Joker was originally going to kill her then, but fans had latched onto Harley Quinn’s new look and she was a fan favorite (mind you as I recall, she was originally introduced in BTAS, and then transferred to the comics later). So she ended up surviving his first murder attempt.
He decided that although annoying she could still be useful (since she’s actually brilliant, and at this point somewhat codependent). This leads to a string of horrific abuses and murder attempts. Including (in the TV show alone) throwing her through a window that is at *least* three stories up, choking her, beating her with a hammer, threatening her with one of his gag guns (which, depending on the gun, may or may not kill her in various ways), and attempting to get hyenas to eat her.
In the comics, it includes starving her, chaining her to a wall in a sewer on top of corpses of “failed Harleys,” poisoning her, leaving her in burning buildings, pushing her into the line of police fire, gaslighting her basically every time he fails to kill her, and the list goes on. When she becomes pregnant with her and Joker’s kid, she leaves for nine months, to her sister’s place, and gives birth there. She doesn’t tell Joker about the kid (and goes out of her way to prevent Joker from finding out). She tells Canary that it’s because Mr. J would be too busy for a kid, but if you pay attention to Harley’s behavior throughout the comic, the clear subtext is “My kid would end up dead or worse if Joker knew about her.”
Additionally, post break up, she notes he was abusive, says it wasn’t love, it was manipulation, and frequently describes it as the worst part of her life.
I’m no expert but I remember one more thing… she said he never noticed she was gone for those 9 months.
THANK YOU FOR CLEARING THIS UP.
Thank you for being super nice to that person for asking for clarification and not like, shaming them for not reading the comics or watching the cartoon series. Like I was expecting them to get torn to shreds for that and was so happy that they weren’t.
This is the first time we see her. She’s talking about the body of man she worked with who just passed away, and who she liked, (“I knew him, he was nice.”) and that Sherlock is about to beat the crap out of. And look at her adorable smile…
#Molly Hooper #Sherlock #nothing mousey about this chick #she’s a badass wrapped in sunshine and hideous clothing choices
Molly’s story is less of a character arc and more of a character discovery.
At long last, The Chosen One has been discovered. Working as a cashier. With no interest in doing anything even slightly more difficult.
yeah because there is nothing more difficult than retail
tbh anyone who works/has worked retail would see the chance to go around saving the world in ways that could potentially kill them as a welcome vacation
“Does the position of Chosen One offer health benefits of any kind?”
“Well, our ragtag gang of world-saving underdogs has a doctor on-team.”
“Do I have to pay her out of pocket, is what I’m asking.”
“Gosh no! She’s an idealist, you don’t pay her at all!”
“Oh! That’s nice. But then I guess there’s no paycheck.”
“I mean, the secret cabal that dispenses our orders does make sure we have enough money to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our secret lair and such.”
“Hourly?”
“Hourly what?”
“Like have you guys ever had to punch a time clock?”
“We once had to dismantle a sinister time-freezing device in the shape of a clock….otherwise no.”
