I Just Wanted To Inform You How Much Of A Lesbian I Am For Your Fem!andreil, They’re Gorgeous.

SOMEBODY I FOLLOW ON INSTAGRAM POSTED THIS AND IM SCREAMING NDAEFDFIZXBNLDFD

If you’re writing the dynamic between the Batgirls as “fun guuurlfriends who have sleepovers and do each other’s nails” instead of “exhausted mom tries desperately to keep her chaotic daughter and said daughter’s EVEN MORE chaotic best friend/ambiguously gay life partner from getting themselves killed”, you’re doing it wrong. 

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

Is it just me or is this Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano, like.... young-ish mentor who is totally ridiculous but also helpful while teaching Ahsoka to murder people....

The only thing that doesn’t fit is that Ahsoka totally thinks Anakin’s a dope.

No more wise old mentors. From now on your mentor options are

1. old mentor that turns out to have at least the same amount of chaotic dumbass energy as the protagonist

2. mentor that is the same age or younger than the protagonist and is only in the position of mentor because they have experience with one specific thing, but in every other respect they are just as young and dumb as the protagonist is

Batfamily at festivals & parades headcannons!

“Hang on a minute, where’s Dickhead?” Jason said, trying and failing not to look frantic as he searched the crowd getting ready to pull some shit if his brothers just been abducted in front of him. “Wait-“

Dick’s on the main float, somehow, standing next to three pretty ladies grinning and waving a feather boa at the crowd who’s screaming in delight in response.

Damian being forced to try street food - “this filth can’t be any better than Pennyworth’s food no matter what you say.” - and becomes addicted to churros, ordering exactly six batches in the space of twenty five minutes.

Cass and Steph throwing confetti at the crowd and starting a Mexican wave that spans the whole stand in spectacular fashion.

Bruce meeting Commissioner Gordon whilst in a compromising talk with Jason about revealing identities as he spins a pistol on his finger in front of a crowd of kids.

Explaining that is very interesting, including Jason having an uncle who is a ‘Texas ranger, who is very keen to pass on his tricks’ as well as ‘having an up to date permit, I assure you.’

The family had watched Texas Ranger on the television that morning, to Bruce’s chagrin, and the theme tune was stuck in his head. Gets mercilessly teased about his on the spot thinking by Dick and Steph.

The kids begging Bruce to get a float for the next parade.

Ends up relenting after a massive headache that only gets worse when he wakes up to a kid next to him - he wasn’t sure who, at that point - whispering ‘float, float, float’ under their breath. (It was Steph, who doesn’t even live at the manor).

Wins the best in show, because Bruce’s daredevil ragtag bunch of children have created a float on BATMAN AND HIS ASSOCIATES, compete with costumes and flower versions of their alter egos that has Bruce permanently on these anxiety pills.

Tim, Duke and Jason playing who can shout the loudest at a Pride march.

Cass’s dancing landing her in one parade, and the family all coming out to support her with massive, home painted signs.

“Come on Bruce, lighten up.” Duke munches on one of Damian’s churros that he’s nicked, earning a particular loud hiss that has people’s heads turning. “It’s a festival. It’s brightly coloured fun. Turn that frown upside down.”

Moments later the festival camera panning to Bruce, who slaps on a rather stressed looking smile as he realises that he’s lost all seven of his children in four minutes and thirty eight seconds. A new record, on their part.

Tim taking some bomb ass photos, ending up being recruited to take photos of the parade by some high end executive. When he realises that it’s Tim Drake-Wayne he’s been ordering around, almost dies.

Jason getting arrested. It happens every time, and Bruce still has no idea. “It must be a running gag,” he confides to Alfred one day after having to retrieve his son from the police station from a cake rights march - whatever that is - “because I have no idea why else he would do it.”

Alfred only nods because he knows exactly why, and his ward, who is his son all but in name, might be worlds greatest detective but has the thickest skull when it comes to anything remotely emotional.

The whole family being lit up with fluorescent necklaces and bracelets. A picture ends up in the Gotham Gazette, and Clark Kent makes sure that Bruce knows that he’s cut it out and saved it for a ‘rainy day’. How he got hold of it, Bruce isn’t sure.

Dressing Damian up in an elf suit for the Christmas parade works only with bribery of new swords. He’s on about fifteen new now, if his counting is correct - and it is, Damian is never wrong - “which will materialise or else there will be trouble, Father.”

Part 2! 

Part 1

SOME FALL DRINKS DOODLES, HAPPY PUMPKIN MONTH! 

Han is all “there’s to much Vader in him,” without mentioning that there is too much Vader in Leia too. 

Like, Bail Organa, bless his poor poor soul, tried to politician the Vader out of her. He tried SO FUCKING HARD. 

But the fact that she abandoned politics to be a General in the Resistance says a lot about her similarities to Anakin Skywalker. 

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

People allergic to peanuts: keep peanuts as far away from me as possible or I'll die

People allergic to shellfish: no shrimp pls I don't wanna die today

Lactose intolerant people:*while eating ice cream* the weight of my sins drags me closer to hell but I sit in a throne higher than God's