* hey thanks to all who wanted their muse drawn, i had fun trying to doodle them. tagging is a hassle but the ones who liked will be able to find their url scribbled real quickly on the drawing of their muse and can see them in the tags ! :^)
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* hey thanks to all who wanted their muse drawn, i had fun trying to doodle them. tagging is a hassle but the ones who liked will be able to find their url scribbled real quickly on the drawing of their muse and can see them in the tags ! :^)
axedhearts
//I just had the worst mental image, why do you do these things
au where jason is a 10 inch stelletto,,, wearing 10 inch stelletto’s
@axedhearts / 💗
can you hear that? the sound of lovebirds twittering over harley’s head? the crinkling of pink and red cellophane being fluffed around flower vases? the shhrrrip shrip shrip of crepe paper being viciously rent from its anchors on the walls and ceiling, all but destroying her carefully-constructed surprise for the two teenage minute mart employees who just need a little extra push to realize their crushes are mutual? the-- wait a minute, what?!
her decor! her lovey-dovey vibes! her cupid of crime shtick!!!
“-- hey!!! i worked hard on that! yeah, i’m talkin’ t’ you, jerk-wad--”
Harley and Harry, please
send me a platonic relationship and i’ll tell you:
who steals french fries off the other’s plate: mmmmm i wanna say both but like. it’s not because of a fry shortage on either end. harley does it first because she just wants to prove she can and then harry does it back to spite her. chaos ensues
who jokingly moves in for the kiss when someone asks if they’re a couple: harley did it one (1) time and harry literally headbutted her so hard she fell on her ass and saw stars and she hasn’t tried it since
who has to bust or bail the other out of jail: harley? harry probably COULD bust her out but WOULD he. i think not. he’d thank his lucky stars she’s not around to annoy him anymore
who gives the other advice/comfort about dating issues: harley but she only does it when she’s outside a ten-foot radius of him
who shamelessly cheats at games by reaching over to cover the other’s eyes: harley did it to harry once as a joke when there was a sex scene on tv and now he just does it to her ALL THE TIME for NO REASON AT ALL just to be MEAN
who immediately calls dibs on the top bunk: in a bizarre reversal, harley calls dibs on bottom bunk, thus forcing harry to take top, allowing her to kick his bunk all night long if she so pleases
who starts and who wins the pillow fights: harley starts them and then harry wins them because he forgoes a pillow and just throws a lamp or some shit at her smh
who says “your pants would look better on their floor” to the other’s potential crush: harry, but instead of saying that he just tries to murder them in a fit of rage and disgust after seeing how loveydovey she is with everyone
axedhearts replied to your post: the face u make when u know u Fucked Up
//That’s the best face in the entire franchise
when i was little n i watched this ( because my parents for some goddamn reason would let me watch this kind of crap before bed ) i remember i’d always start yellin “scared kitty! scared kitty!”
@axedhearts
Her nose crinkles as she twirls a blade in hand, the sounds of desperate cries for assistance echoing through the abandoned fair grounds. She’d followed a little lamb strayed from the flock, skipping along behind her at an easy pace for the past hour. It was the unpredictable nature of the chase that thrilled Doll Face the most when it came to the hunt, the challenge that adrenaline fueled bravery provided, it made her eventual victory all the more satisfying. And oh how she savored her victories when she’d earned them.
At the sign of movement, however, in a direction her precious play thing had not gone, she halts, immediately sending a dagger flying through the air towards the source. She wasn’t a fan of sharing anything, the rotten product of her father’s favoritism, and it’s apparent in the manner her smile quickly vanishes.
@axedhearts liked for a starter
SELF DISAPPOINTMENT mingles with dread ( what is it with her stumbling on corpses? ) compromised sight is irrelevant, that familiar stench of encrusted blood invades her nostrils, wet carpet under her soles --- cause for instead retreat, small fingers wrap itself around bruised knees, back to the wall, mocha hair in sheer disarray veiling her features. petite body curled up into a corner, honeyed eyes are skimming the perimeter, attempting to use the meager moonlight slipping through agape windows as guide. maybe he left ? maybe SHE snapped & killed someone? nah. she’d never be THAT lucky.