#-y and consistently

[a-dragons-journal]

I have a "type" (not a label user) that I'd like to know more about... it's of a fictional character (as much as it pains to say that), but it's a very Intristic identity, it's less "I found this character and now identity as them", it's definitely more "this part of me has always existed, i just needed to discover it". I've had this for years now. I've tried getting rid of it.

you could say I'm very alike them, but i say they're like Me, not the other way around. I'm not them, they're Me, because the former implies my identity came After discovering them.

I've Always been drawn to scenery, locations, language, clothing etc that's associated with or is the same as this characters source long before discovering them. My ideal appearance and home mirrors this character and their source. If I could wear their cosplay 24/7, I would, and I often do, because it's the most I ever feel like Myself.

I'm not spiritual, hell, i have a fear of that, but because of this almost past life-ish nature of my identity i label it as "quasi-spiritual". But I'd like to know possible mundane or psychological reasons for this. The idea of my identity actually being spiritual all along scares me though.. I don't know what to think. I've got past life readings twice before, different times different people, and they both said the same exact thing! and it kinda aligns with this character...

Maybe it's not that big of a deal and I'm over analyzing again lol. It's in my nature after all. I was hoping an alterhuman blog could help me out with this... Thank you for reading :)

So, I obviously can't answer any of this for you for sure, but I have some thoughts.

First: Truthfully, it's hard for me to come up with a lot of solid purely-mundane explanations for all of this, but I'm sure they're there. My best shot: Past life readings might be similar because they're in some regard based on you, and from a purely mundane perspective, it's possible the readers are picking up on aspects of your current self and extrapolating upon them, which logically might lead them to similar answers. It's possible that your experiences lining up with this character really is just coincidence - if you encounter enough characters in media, odds are that eventually you're going to trip on one that's very similar to yourself - and that doesn't make the label of "fictionkin" any less accurate, because what is that word if not shorthand for "this character/species is very similar to my experiences, so much so that it's easiest to get across my experiences by simply saying I am them despite any small differences they might be" anyway, regardless of the why-explanation that any given individual may attach to that?

That aside, and I realize this part is not answering your question, but I think it may be worth examining in the process of questioning this: Why does the idea of this being something spiritual scare you so much?

To be clear: this is not me saying I think it is, or even that you have to accept it as a possibility or anything. But if you're up for it, then examining that question, assuming you don't already know the answer (because you very well might know and just not have wanted to tell me, which is totally understandable), may give you some insights not just into this, but into a lot of your own rationale for things, which I think is good practice to have a good grasp on. If it is something that ends up making sense to you best through a spiritual lens, why would that be bad for you? ("Because it would contradict my previous beliefs in a big way" is a valid answer here, by the way, just one that then invites more questions, such as "am I letting my biases prevent me from changing my beliefs based on new information, and if so is that also a thing that might be happening with more important things, like political beliefs and whatnot, or is this just genuinely not convincing enough evidence for me?")

Anyway, existential crisis induction aside, other people got further mundane explanations for anon's experiences here?

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

what if. readerbot met Eclipse. and Eclipse, who is both Sun and Moon combined, also had both Sun and Moon's collective love for readerbot all stuffed into one big stupid silly baby brain. and what if Eclipse also had absolutely zero self control and immediately turned into a pile of big soft mushy love dovey feelings as soon as he made eye contact w readerbot. and meanwhile readerbot, who has not been clued in on the fact that Sun and Moon are both head over heels for them, was struggling hardcore to process the unstoppable stream of Eclipse's pure unbridled love being beamed directly into their brain with zero filter whatsoever. like what if tho

(eclipse accidentally kills his staffbot spouse by being a teeny tiny little bit too intense, thats what)

[forsworned]

🗯️hush, don't think you've made it under my skin

pairing: exhusband!simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

cw: nsfw, like the wording is pretty filthy, cunnilingus,

: ̗̀➛ masterlist

You stir in your sleep, the rustling rustling outside your window barely registering as more than a whisper in the dark. But then you hear it again, this time louder and more deliberate. Without a second thought, you're shooting up out of bed, your fingers are now closed over the cool metal of the handgun under your pillow as you slip out of bed. Your heart thuds out of your chest as your feet touch the cold hardwood floor, and make your way to the window.

The muzzle of your gun brushes against the curtain, pulling it back to take a gander at your backyard. The night is still, and a breeze passes over, caressing the trees and their branches. But something darts in the corner of your vision and you're cocking your gun as you scan the area a second time. But it's quiet again, too quiet for your liking.

Just as you begin to reinforce the window, your home alarm blares deafeningly into your eardrums, but before you can even move it shuts off. That makes your blood run cold.

There's a creaking on the floor below you. Your hands begin to tremble as you stealthily leave your room, and tiptoe down the stairs, checking every corner as you do. The sound of your heart thudding against your chest is pumping loudly in your eardrums. There's movement in the kitchen and a...crunch? Like someone's crunching on chips?

You stand up from your crouched position, swiftly stepping out and positioning yourself behind the figure in an attempt to disarm them in the dark, but you're gently rectified. Your form is pressed between the counter and a familiar feeling burly body, your hands bound behind your back and the warm breath that tickles your neck makes you melt a little.

"Hey, lovie," he breathes out, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Goddammit, Simon." You grumble, not even bothering to wriggle out of his grip.

"Not bad." He sets your gun on the counter in front of you and you sigh. "If I were a second off, you'd have done me in."

"What are you doing here?"

He releases his grip on you and leans his back against the counter as he uses the hem of his sweater to pop the cap off his ale and takes a swig of it. He's nonchalant and unbothered by your building irritation.

"Jus' thought I'd pop by." He shrugs.

Your eye violently twitches. "Pop by? Simon, you scared the fucking bejeezus out of me! You can't just pop by whenever you feel like it! You're lucky that Isla is with her grandparents this weekend."

He can tell you're upset, fuming really, but he sighs instead of arguing with you. The one who got away, his beautiful ex-wife. He cups your chin with his rough hand and tilts it upward. "I know that."

Instinctively, your pussy throbs at his touch. One thing about Simon is that almost anything he did got you riled up.

He sees that little shimmer of sexual arousal in your eye and there's a smirk that forms, stretching the scar on his pale pink lips.

"What do you want?" You whisper.

"Was hungry." He smirks, popping a chip into his mouth and your brows scrunch in vexation. And that really gets him going.

You grit your teeth. "Hungry?" You sharply exhale. "I should gut you where you stand."

Simon picks up the bag of chips and throws another crisp in his mouth. "Like to see you try."

But then slowly, after analyzing him enough, you begin to realize what he's doing here. He's not drunk, no no. You'd have smelled the booze on him instantly. He just plain misses you.

A wolfish grin etches into your face as you fold your arms across your chin. "You miss me."

He stops noshing on the chips slowly and narrows his dark eyes at you. "So what?"

You blink, taken aback by his response and he's back to munching on the snack, your snack. "So what? You're in my freakin' house!"

"Well, I do pay for it." He gives you a blase eyebrow raise. You grab the chips out of his hand and carefully roll them up, clip them over and stuff them in the snack cabinet. "Whoa, there, dovie, relax." He puts his hands in the air, licking the salt off his lips.

"Get out." You turn to him with a disgruntled expression. He searches your eyes for a moment. You don't really mean it.

"You don't mean that." He steps closer to you, and you reflexively step back until your back hits the counter and he's entrapping you. His body towers over yours, overpowering you in every single way possible. His breath hotly fanning over your lips, as he dips his down to you.

You swallow thickly. "Yes, I do..."

"You dont." He sursurrates, cupping your cheek and slowly capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. Your brows furrow in desire and ambivalence. It's like you're fighting demons, wanting to give in to your throbbing pussy's needs, but wanting to shove him away and send him back to his apartment.

But you're quickly tossing that out of the window he just came in from and you grab his face, feeling the blonde scruff on his cheeks. He lifts you onto the counter, one hand grips your neck and hair, and the other slides up your thigh and under the waistband of your boyshorts. He shudders at the feeling of your sopping wet folds. "My God, [name]. So wet."

"Shut up." You mutter, and he grins down at you.

"With pleasure."

And then he's on his knees, peeling away at your undergarments and shoving his head between your succulent, plush thighs and to your weepy cunt taking you in as he pleases. A sharp exhale that melts into a creamy moan, escapes from your throat and man does that make that man ravenous. He's sloppily supping you up and licking up every drop of you like you're some nectar from the Heavens Above.

"Oh my God—!" You choke out before your orgasm rushes over you and you're arching your back, and bucking your hips into his mouth as you ride out your high. Of course, what's a little eating out without some overstimulation. You cry out against him and wriggle out of his vice-like grip, nearly smacking him to get off of you and he lets go of your clit with a loud pop. He's chuckling at you, pussy juices coating his cheeks, chin, and lips as he lovingly gazes up at your panting half-naked form.

"God, I hate you." You seethe, but there's really no malice in your tone and he knows that.

"No, you don't, dovie." He gets up and kisses the top of your forehead, grabbing the ale and makes his way toward the window he came in from.

"He-ey!" You blurt out, trying to to collect yourself from such a delicious orgasm. But he's already halfway out the window, and you're left standing there gawking at him. When he's fully outside, you feel like your body has gone rigid from shock as you watch him walk away.

"Wha—where are you going?" You call out. He turns around to you with a smirk.

"Don't worry'll be back."

And that's enough to make your cunt start dripping for more.

divider by: @cafekitsune

[mekha-draws]

what if... godhood ascended mass grave, but smol

[deceptiveshadow]

Two?! Two Bloodmoon doodles.

[cccotard]

purple ish saras

[maplefiasco]

For @catws-anniversary / April 2 - Bucky Barnes / Prompt - ghost story

[chrissiewatts]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEXANDER GABRIEL CLAREMONT-DIAZ

- 27th March 1998

[backpackevil]

H e y

Participated in @jezzleyjezz dtiys (on insta anyway) :**

Based on the song Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In! by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

+ Actual dtiys

Love it

[intermundia]

(Star Wars: Crimson Reign #3 - The Archivist)

the concept of jedi as celebrities is so interesting to me, mostly because they're monks of an order whose philosophy is grounded on egoless service and humility. one jedi should be roughly the same as any other when sent on a mission, because the jedi serve the force. there may be slight differences in methodologies, yes, but fundamentally, they're not there to make a name for themselves as anything other than as representatives of the jedi order.

but of COURSE it makes sense that the galaxy would be obsessed with them. a mysterious group of wizards who use flashy swords and make peace through persuasive words and heroic deeds? of course people wrote books about them, watched shows about them, adults gossiped about them, and kids pretended to be them when playing. so the question of how all that knowledge was wiped away within a generation is a good one, and the comic presents a good answer:

(Star Wars: Crimson Reign #3 - The Archivist)

the earnest goodness of the jedi comes across to many as sanctimonious. they're too responsible with their power, too cool and restrained. they don't lash out with anger on behalf of those they love, you know? they don't smile enough, too serious. they're seen as the embodiment of "we have food at home" energy. the reality of the canonical order as gentle and joyful, surprisingly playful and open, isn't sexy enough to redeem their moral authority.

based on my inbox and the way people respond to some of my posts about the jedi, the resentment that this engenders in the population of the GFFA feels very real. there is actual HATRED directed toward this fictional group, irrational and out of all proportion. the comic suggests that people jump to hate those who make them feel guilty and self-conscious, because lashing out absolves yourself of confronting the reason you secretly know you'd be judged and found wanting, and that seems accurate.

i would insert a thousand examples here of the jedi not deserving this reputation, but the canon behavior of the jedi doesn't matter, the galaxy cheered as they died anyway and lots of fans love to hate on them. the mere concept of them and their philosophy is enough to alienate people, and i think that's a shame, but understandable. i'll love them enough to make up for it haha

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

OCT. 17 — KINKTOBER ‘23

KNIFE & GUN PLAY WITH JASON TODD

ktober m.list

tags: fem reader, blood, gun play isn't gorey, penetrative sex, cum play for a second, possessive jason, reader calls jason daddy once, (if i missed any pls message me!)

jason hesitated only slightly when you had mentioned having rougher sex. took a beat to read your face one night after dinner when the topic was somehow brought up, a tilt of his head and arch of his brow following.

it wasn’t like the two of you were purely vanilla when it came to your bedroom tendencies. you started by asking jason to choke you, your hand placing overtop of his to press harder—clearly nervous of his strength and your limits. then, jason tested out slapping… and with the way your pussy clenched around him, it was safe to say there was a green light in front of that too.

but… when you were playing with the switchblade that the man kept in his pocket when you had run the blade over your fingers gently, and the words, "i wouldn’t be upset if you used this in bed," fell from your tongue, jason could only smirk to himself.

"want me to put a lil’ tattoo on you princess?" he asks, holding his hand out in asking for the blade, to which you hand to him. you nod with a grin, lifting up the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. the soft flesh of your upper thigh being exposed, your fingers running over the skin. "right here," you say, the skin right under the hem of your panties being traced with your fingertip.

you look from the skin between your hip and thigh to jason who’s sat in front of you, his eyes darkening as he looks at your skin. the hand that’s not holding the blade grabs the soft flesh, squeezing it and giving it a little tap.

"'jason’s'… how does that sound?" green eyes meet yours, his demeanor changing to one of those that says he's ready to pounce on you at any given second. "mhm, mark me up. wouldn’t be your first time," you nod with a laugh, pulling up your top to show one of your boobs, a dark purple love mark sucked into the skin from two days prior.

jason tilts his head in thought, questioning if he should hold out on telling you his desire that followed yours. the desire that has just reached the front of his mind, a thought that only a questionable vigilante who's killed hundreds would have. his eyes trailed over your body as he does so, to which you scrunch your eyebrows. "yes?" he holds a momentary finger up at you as he silently walks away, making his way into your bedroom without a word.

a few minutes go by, your attention is turned to the television until the man walks back into the room. nothing has changed about him, besides the fact that he’s holding a hand behind his back. one end of jason’s lips is tugged upwards despite the nervousness to reveal the idea he was keeping away from you.

he takes a seat, sweatshirt bunching up around his hips as he brings his arm forward. now your eyes widen—excited and nervous yourself. the hesitation is understandable, as any other sane person would most likely make a run for it.

the shiny, clean metal was one you’d only seen when jason had come home from being the red hood. when he had come off of patrol and you were in the rarity of being awake at the late hour of the night, watching him strip himself of his vigilante clothing and tools. the tools he had hidden in the back of your shared closet, several locks attached as a safety measure.

the mechanism that your boyfriend had used hundreds of times—either to take a life or to severely hurt another. now, holding it in front of you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"why not both?" he asks, turning the gun to show you that the safety is on, continuing to open the slots where bullets would be found and showing that it was clear of any possibilities of harm.

while jason was around guns and every possibility of weaponry on a daily basis, you weren’t. but, you weren’t opposed to the idea, and the way your heart rate quickened and your underwear started to get wet was proof of that.

with wide eyes you nod and stand up to take jason’s hand, leading you to the room that you were normal to experimenting in.

you both were quick to strip yourselves of clothes, your mind occupied with ways that you could make use of the gun, finally landing on the one thing that you know jason would like.

on a carpet in front of your bed, you fall to your knees on the ground below you, hands sitting pretty and expectantly on your thighs. wide eyes watch your boyfriend smirk at the way you’re ready for him, finding his space in front of you, standing tall and proud with the gun still in his hand.

if jason hadn’t cleaned his guns religiously, you wouldn’t dare to put the one in his hand anywhere near you—god knows what would lie on the surface of it. but, jason took care of them as if they were his prized possession, the same way he took care of you.

so, he places the gun in front of him, right where his cock would usually fall if you were to suck him off. instead of him, though, your tongue slips between your lips to find the tip of the gun, letting it lay flat against the underside of the cool metal while his cock stands proudly behind it.

his eyes stay pointed downwards, watching the way you wrap your lips around the cold metal. while his face doesn't read anything but focus, his internals are going off the charts. his cock hard as a rock while his heart beats faster and faster in anticipation. anticipation of watching you suck his gun, and his cock, and fucking you with pretty metal touching your throat and scarlet running down your thigh from his idea of a tattoo.

while your soft lips left a salivated mess on the tip of jason's pistol, you decided to bring a hand to his member. thumb running over the tip, pleased to feel his pre and following suit in running down his length, beginning to slowly jerk him off. a soft smile tugging your lips when you watch his breath hitch in his throat from the contact.

like a flick of a light switch, jason's throwing the weapon to your bed with a shake of his head. helping you stand up with a hand holding your throat, forcing a choked whine to leave you because of the strength of your boyfriend. your eyes go wide when he leans down to face you, grip still holding the soft skin that coats your neck.

"i'm gonna give it all to you tonight, sweetheart. don't worry about that pretty head of yours, okay?" he questions, throwing you on the bed and finally releasing you, allowing you space and time to catch your breath while jason takes his time crawling between your legs that you oh-so gladly spread for him.

it should be a crime to be as wet as you are due to the minimal contact your boyfriends had with you. hardly laying more than a hand on you and dripping onto the bed without care, eyes meeting his dark ones and watching as he grabs the gun once more.

only this time, his confidence is at a high. all hints of hesitation leaving his body and the action of rubbing the opening of the gun between your folds is done selfishly. of course, he knows it feels good with the symphony of whines and moans you sing for him, but he can't help but to indulge in the sight alone. dark eyes watching the way your cunt flutters, begging to be penetrated rather than teased with the metal.

jason's hungry for everything you give to him.

"such a slut," he begins, locking eyes with you once more, "all wet from a fuckin' gun?" you babble something that sounds like a confirmation, and it makes jason scoff, halting his movements just where you need him; tip of his gun pressed and paused at your entrance. "beg for it."

your cheeks flush, turn red at the demand he makes. but, it's dumb to deny it. dumb to act like you won't fuck the killing machine that was just pressed to the puffy lips of your mouth.

"fuck me with it, please," you say lightly, knowing it's not enough, but wanting to push jason further. after all, he said he'd give it all to you tonight, so you'll make him prove it.

his voice grows deeper, louder and he nudges your clit that begging for attention with the metal, allowing weight to fall on it which makes you squirm under his harsh gaze. "fuckin' pathetic... fuck you with what?"

your eyes roll back, hips rolling forward in attempt to move the dead weight that is the gun and gain some stimulation. but, it's to no avail. your eyes grow wide, swollen lips closing before opening once more. "please daddy, wan' you to fuck me with your gun. gonna feel so good, please please please," you press, and jason eats it entirely. angry red cock spilling with precum, milky streak falling against one of his veins.

"mhm, princess," he says, moving the gun downwards and pressing it to your entrance once more, slowly, eyeing the way your hole swallows the metal that pushes inwards until it can't anymore. the sweet moan is something he appreciates, though he knows the size is only a fraction of his cock that you're used to. but, the coolness of it does enough to feel foreign and good.

with a cocky smirk on his lips, he begins fucking you with the weapon. pulling it in and out of you slowly, but increasing in speed with each thrust he delivers; a big hand holding it with his index and middle finger holding the trigger subconsciously. aiming straight towards your cervix, which he'll touch soon enough.

and he fucks you well. fucks you with an arm that has pretty scars and newer cuts littering the skin. veins starting on the top of his hand and trailing to his forearm pumping blood that's evident in the way his cock is begging for attention. but he wants you to cum once on the gun. make a mess out of it in a way that's unlike anything he's ever experienced.

and once you're arching your back against blankets, moaning his name out in a near yell, and attempting to move a hand between your legs to get him to stop fucking you, stimulation too much, he finally gets what he wants.

jason's perverted thoughts cloud his head when he's slow to pull the gun out of you. looking at the metal that's covered in your milky essence. slow enough that there's a string of wetness that connects you to the weapon, and he could cum from that alone.

but the real finale is when he realizes that your cum is filling the barrel of the gun, filling the once-empty space with yourself. he brings it to your lower tummy, spilling the mess all over you in a manner that's filled with pure filth. proceeding to throw the gun to the side, acknowledging the fact that it's served its purpose for tonight. the pain of his hard-on is finally coming to his attention, and he needs to stuff his pussy.

"how'd that feel, gem?" he questions, moving against covers and watching your half-lidded eyes. both hands pull your thighs up so he can push them back, tip teasing your swollen entrance. "g-good," you whimper, and jason would be lying if he paid any attention to your response. your convulsing pussy is the only thing that has his attention right now, the way you're attempting to suck him whole.

and without warning, he's pushing his entire length between your legs, filling you whole and halting his movements once he's completely surrounded by your soft walls. groaning at the sensation of you clenching around him, but resisting moving his hips the way he wants to.

one hand remains gripping the fat of your thigh while the other grabs the switchblade lying on the mattress beside your pretty figure. flicking it open with his fingers, somehow making it look like an art while he's in the process of doing so. your attention follows it, almost forgetting that you're being stuffed full of jason's cock without movement. unwillingly cockwarming the man.

"remind me, baby. where'd you want my name?" jason's eyes move to meet yours, and without fail, a whimper slips past your lips and he feels the tightness that's close to making him hammer himself into you. but he has the patience and self-control that you don't.

his palm meets yours halfway, letting go of your thigh and letting his hand fall overtop of yours, smoothing over the top of your thigh. in the space that's dangerously next to where he's laid out inside of you, and it makes him more hungry for you if that was possible.

he's transferring his blade to the hand that's closer to the skin where you want it, tracing only enough for your skin to become a shade lighter under the pressure. once again looking up at you, he takes note of the way your lips fall open while anticipation grows in your eyes. it makes him smile wildly, a reminder that you want this. that you're the one who asked for it.

"'s gonna hurt," you whimper, and jason shakes his head, setting the blade on your thigh while his big hand takes your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks. "you can handle it, baby. c'mon, where'd my strong girl go?" a smile pulls your lips upwards. "it'll feel just like that tattoo you wanted, it's like a trial before the real thing." he leans towards you, holding back a groan from the way he pushes himself deeper inside your cunt to do so, giving you a sloppy and messy open-mouthed kiss.

then he's pulling back, blade in hand once more, and beginning to get to work. the whimpers are a symphony to his ears as he presses the sharp tip against your soft skin, cutting his name so pretty in your flesh. his eyes watch the way the deep red liquid peeks through the cracks, beginning to drip down the side of your skin. the hand that's not cutting his name into you is squeezing and rubbing the skin of your stomach soothingly.

his hips moving in small circles, enough to give the both of you something, but not enough to make him mess up his painting.

"so fucking pretty, honey," jason says as soon as he's finished, throwing the bloodied blade on the floor to clean up later. but his eyes are unable to see his finished work of art, and jason isn't one to waste.

pulling out of you with a moan, he leans down to the expanse of your thigh, licking over the blood with his tongue flat. he doesn't take note of how you sit up, your eyes widening at the stinging but warm sensation. you watch the way scarlet red coats his tongue, finding its way to the corners of his lips while he sits back up on his knees.

jason's cock stands tall as he uses his thumb to collect the blood from his lips, dark eyes watching yours as he sucks on his own digit. longer than needed, but he can see you like it; whether it be your fluttering cunt or your eyebrows that furrow. he laughs, knowing he's completed what had to be done in order for you to fully be his property.

because now jason's pretty slut girlfriend can't show her cunt to any other man without reading jason's name right beside it.

🏷️: @harleycao, @idyllcy, @hails227, @aviixol, @hopeannalea, @hearttjason, @roysjason, @blursotongz, @zaxlarza, @wartofart, @loviie-stuff, @nmw-am, @nightjarwings

[psalmsofpsychosis]

going through the batmanverse archives after awhile and— we really need to talk about the way Batman and Joker fight.

There's a form to fighting for offence and defence, your body movements are focused on delivering pain and/or protecting yourself from pain. This involves a sequence of specific positionings and physical orientation, none of which Batman delivers right when it comes to Joker.

It's a bit on the nose at this point to talk about Joker's fighting style when it comes to Batman, what with his knife and the intimate proximity that fighting style creates and all—

But Batman? Batman literally hits like sex. He punches joker's face like he's trying to get past skin and bone and get into his mouth, he fights Joker like he wants to make a dent in him and tear into him, get in him. it's fascinating how in Batmanverse Batman's fights with Joker are a lot like intercourse; upclose and unbearably personal, he's not trying to hurt him as much as he's pushing to get closer and closer to him. He doesn't hit to break through, he hits to break in. And he doesn't get satisfied until he draws blood, what is *in* must come out; he wants to draw the inside out, to see the affect of how he drives Joker over the edge. cum symbolism ensues this brings me to another curious point:

traditionally in the percieved absence of female ejaculation and visible signs of orgasm and conclusion, for a very long time men have been obsessed with making a woman bleed from intercourse. At different points in Batman comics writers have assigned a lot of feminine qualities to Joker, sometimes a bit more than usual, sometimes a bit less, but it's been there consistently through most of his portrayals, so when plotpoints like these

ensue, you start to wonder what is happening here exactly. Very curious indeed.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

somehow, in the betrothed au, SUN, of all himbos, is the most smooth of the three morons. i mean he's a total wreck at most things (baking) but so far he's the only one that's flirted WITHOUT immediately turning into a tiny pile of shame and regrets afterwards. wait he might be the only one thats flirted period, the other two idiots cant even think abt it without almost imploding.

Sun: 1 Moon: 0 Eclipse: 0

[clamoridoll]

personally i didn't mind the original "childish" g3 outfits; it made them look more like 15 year olds, y'know?

[sir-adamus]

i swear to christ it's like these people are proud of their inability to pay attention

[piowasthere]

(I know I don’t really ask for drawings but I want to because I feel like trash and I know I’m going to have a bad day today)

Can you draw me giving a flower to Solar and kissing his forehead? He deserves all the love in the universe right now

hope u'll feel better <3

have these 2 doodles i speedran for u,