#dc comics fandom

[babblingbookends]

Dick lays like a beautiful princess and Roy lays like a cartoon character who just had an anvil fall on him

[the-fyre-flie]

Bruce Wayne has a massive bounty on his head at all times, multi millions of dollars constantly hanging above him when he goes out in public. Thus, he has his own personal guard when going to galas or charity events. Is it a conflict of interest that his personal guard is made up of his children and coworkers? Probably. Does he care? No.

Socialite 1: Is that... Nightwing? In a suit?

Socialite 2: It is! Who is that next to him? Red Robin?

Dick and Tim, with blazers and sunglasses over their normal costumes, trailing after Bruce the whole night, trying not to giggle at the absurdity of watching Bruce 'Batman' Wayne nearly spill the entire punch bowl on himself:

At first, the public is concerned that a billionaire can "buy out" vigilantes, but it doesn't take long for someone to just... ask Nightwing to guard them for a night, and he agrees, not asking for payment. This eventually becomes little kids asking for Robin to 'guard them on their way to school' and folks begging Batman to 'guard their dog for the week' (Since when did The Mission become pet sitting???) (Obviously, he agrees, tho the little yippy pomeranian gets taken to Wayne Manor for the week instead, and Ace gets a temporary new friend)

A hotline gets set up so that anyone who feels unsafe can call a number and have one of the Bat Family members walk them home. It gets used a lot by drunk college students, women, and kids who stayed up past curfew.

Scared little kid, barely able to reach the payphone, using their last quarters: Um... I n-need.. Robin.. p-please.. I'm really scared... its really d-dark... my house is far away...

Damian, who is already in the area, beelining towards where the call came from:

[mystiquevoid]

Take Me For A Ride, Baby

pairing: biker!jason todd x reader

synopsis: you were curious about bikers before, but you are pretty sure they just became your weak spot after meeting this handsome, green-eyed stranger at the gas station

content: fluff, meet-cute, tough exterior n soft interior jason, reader thinking of riding him for a sec, but c’mon, who wouldn’t in this context

“Hi, um, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could…” Jason watched you—the cute girl who had approached him at the gas station—do a revving motion with your hand. Didn’t even say it out loud; just moved your fist and looked at him with those big eyes.

Through the dark visor of his helmet, you couldn’t see the way Jason was squinting down at you. And still, you felt like you were being scrutinized. Now, you regretted not getting ready properly. I mean, you had just wanted to go get some gas. You would’ve put more thought into your choice of clothing if you had known that you’d end up seeing a biker there; one with broad shoulders that filled out his leather jacket impressively. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, though, as you’d randomly thrown something together this morning.

Taking in your adorably curious face, Jason found himself wondering what a sweet girl like you was doing walking up to a guy like him. He was well aware of what kind of first impression most people got of him. After all, he was a big guy with an even bigger motorcycle.

But you didn’t look intimidated by his stature at all. If anything, you just seemed a bit shy asking him for permission to lay hands on his bike. So with a nod, he gave you the okay. In real time, he saw the sheepish expression on your face melt away and in its stead witnessed a spark of excitement light up in your eyes.

He watched you attentively as you took a few steps closer to his bike, and reached over to the handle. You were about to twist it expectantly, when Jason stopped you with a chuckle. Eyes lifting to look at the attractive stranger, you were worried that you had done something wrong already without noticing it.

“Not like that. You need to twist it towards you, all right?” Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment, but his gloved hand simply came to rest over yours.

When he guided it in the right direction now, the bike’s engine roared to life loudly. The vibrations of the motor sent your heart tumbling into a frantic rush. To say you were impressed would have been nothing less than a blatant understatement. Jason could practically see stars form in your eyes. “You’re a fan of bikes, huh?” He huffed in amusement. His gaze drifted over your side profile as you nodded. You were pretty. Really pretty.

“Y’want to go for a ride?” The question left his mouth before his brain could catch up with what he was suggesting. It was unlike Jason to make an offer like this to someone he didn’t even know. He did it anyway, so that had to mean something, surely. Lifting his visor, he peered straight into your soul now—no kind of glass acting as a form of separation between you two.

You turned your head to look at him, and for a moment, you were just staring at him—soft lips parted. Clearly, you were as taken aback by his offer as he was. And also by those uniquely vibrant green eyes, but hopefully that wasn’t something the dark-haired biker would know.

Stranger danger should have stopped you from agreeing to something so reckless, especially in a crazy place like Gotham City, but much like Jason, you weren’t acting like yourself at the moment. “I… I mean, if you have the time.” Luckily for you, he had an extra helmet with him.

After Jason explained the basics of what you needed to know, you found yourself on the back of his bike. When he sensed that you hesitated to hold onto him, unsure of where to put your hands without crossing some sort of line, one of Jason’s hands reached backwards to grab yours and place it around his midriff.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he ordered, but his voice was terribly kind. Then he snapped his visor back down, and you were off onto the road.

It was exhilarating; hearing the raucous vrooming sound of the engine, feeling the wind whip past your bodies.

You felt more alive than you ever had before. A thrilled little laugh came from you as you allowed yourself to enjoy the ride. Only now did you realize that you didn’t even know this stranger’s name yet. You had been too caught up in your inner monologue panicking over how bad of an idea this probably was.

When Jason sped up to overtake a car, you closed your eyes momentarily and rested your head against his back. Oh my god, this was as terrifying as it was fun.

The longer you two drove, the more your nerves began to ease into pure, unfiltered joy. You were growing more comfortable by the minute—your hands traveling along his abdomen and holding onto him tighter. At one point, your hand was pressed against his pectoral, and if you hadn’t been so swept up in the moment, you would’ve been able to feel the rapid, thumping beat of his heart.

Once you two stopped at a red light, the man you’d been clinging onto turned his head so that you could hear him better. “You good?” You might not know much about this stranger, but one thing you knew for sure: he was painfully considerate.

Jason started out driving not too fast, paid attention to your body language the whole ride through, and only began speeding up upon noticing that you had relaxed a bit. In other words, he made sure you felt comfortable the whole time, and now he was also checking in on you verbally. You were surprised by how well this was going considering how unsure you’d been about this choice.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you spoke loudly in the hope of your voice carrying over the cacophony of traffic noise around you. With a growing grin, you added, “More than fine, actually. This is crazy!” Jason was thinking of a reply when the stoplight turned green, effectively interrupting your conversation.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you leaned into him, arms wrapped around him securely. Hands holding onto his front, you took notice of the warmth that seeped through the material of his black compression shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder how many days a week this man must have gone to work out to be this fucking ripped. Even from afar, it had been impossible to miss his size, but actually feeling the hard planes of muscle hidden beneath his clothes gave you a different kind of impression on just how built this man was.

Time flew by quickly. When Jason eventually dropped you off at the same gas station that he met you—he felt like it would be creepy to ask you where you lived, and your car was parked there anyway—the adrenaline was still pumping through your veins like a river of ecstasy.

Your breath was erratic as you warned him that you would get off the back of his bike now, just as he had told you to. Communication was key between the driver and backpacker. You wouldn’t want him to lose balance and let the bike fall to the ground. He likely wouldn’t have made a fuss about it, even if you did, though.

Standing on your own two feet after the addictive feeling of speeding through the streets with him felt weird. Your shaky fingers began fumbling with your helmet, and mere seconds later, Jason stood right in front of you. Noticing your struggle, he silently helped you. Your blown eyes were locked on him the entire time as he slipped it off your head. With him this close, you could smell the dizzying scent of his cologne: leather, musk, and something irresistibly warm that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It smelled almost like gunpowder, but you doubted that with how sweet this man had been to you. Either way, he smelled absolutely to die for.

You ran your fingers through your hair to fix it, and Jason watched you closely. The corners of his mouth tugged up into an amused smirk. Fuck, you were too cute.

“Thank you. That was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” You sounded so gentle, so sincere in your gratitude. It wasn’t even a big deal, really, nothing that demanded much effort on his part. Still, it clearly made you happy, and he found himself feeling unreasonably accomplished by that, which was stupid, because he didn’t know you.

Jason should have reminded himself of that. He didn’t.

After he took off his own helmet, you could finally take a good look at the entirety of his face, and it was actually embarrassing how affected you were by it. The gorgeous green eyes you had seen before, but his dark, perfectly disheveled hair alongside the faint, jagged scar on his face piqued your interest in the man.

He was gorgeous, undeniably so.

You wanted to find out more about Jason, wanted to see if he had other scars or birthmarks hidden beneath the fabric of his protective gear, wanted to ride with him again. Of course, the more debauched side of your brain couldn’t help but think of wanting to ride him too, but that unfitting thought was quickly banished into the back of your traitorous mind. Even briefly imagining that with him right in front of you, fuck, that was a horrible idea, worse than climbing onto a stranger’s motorcycle.

“Any time…” Jason trailed off, a subtle inquiry of your name. Snapping out of your thoughts, you giggled at his smoothness. The man, who had died and come back to life, swore he felt something that he’d never felt before. An odd sensation of warmth spread through his chest. Illogical. Entirely unfounded. What was up with him?

You told him your name softly, and Jason repeated it back to you like he was testing the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. “Jason.” The curt response would have seemed aloof, if it weren’t for the evident interest shining in those emerald depths of his. “Well, thank you then, Jason,” you said with a sweet smile. Your heart was pounding wildly against your ribcage, and you knew that that wasn’t just the aftershocks of residual adrenaline.

Internally, you wondered if you should ask him for his number. Then you cringed at how awkward it would be if he told you no, if he said that he had a girlfriend and this was just him trying to be nice earlier. “Okay, I should—” You didn’t even finish your sentence, because he spoke up at the same time as you did, “Could I—” The air between you seemed static as you nodded at Jason to say what he wanted to first. “Could I get your number?” All right, girlfriend theory debunked then, you guessed.

He cleared his throat, trying to tamp down the tension he had created with the intense, deep timbre of his voice. Jason licked his lips before adding, “So we could… do this again, you know. If you’d like.” Wait, was he shy?

Jason didn’t want to come on too strong or make you feel like this was him expecting your number in return for his favor. It wasn’t like you owed him anything! He wasn’t an asshole like that. But you didn’t think that anyway.

The smile on your face broadened into an even more radiant one, and Jason had an inkling that he would grow to love this grin of yours. “Sure, I would love that. Maybe we could go to the library next time.” You inclined your head downward and chuckled bashfully, realizing how unspectacular of a place that sounded like. Leave it to you to suggest to the hot biker you met to go to the freaking library of all places. “I mean, if you don’t find that too boring. My aunt runs a library. I help out every once in a while, so I like the quiet there.”

Jason might have just found the woman of his dreams.

“No, no, I don’t find that boring at all,” he said, and when you lifted your head, you could tell by the look on his face alone that he meant what he said. Your eyes darted across his pretty face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip like that could contain your giddiness.

Jason might have been the man of your dreams too.

He gave you his phone, and you couldn’t believe that this was actually happening to you, as you typed your number into the phone of the handsome biker you met only today. The owner of the prettiest green eyes and the most attractive voice you ever had the pleasure of beholding. And he liked to read, apparently. It was like this man had stumbled right out of a romance novel.

Handing his phone back to him, you looked up at Jason through your eyelashes. “Call me.” Such bold words, yet coming out of the mouth of a sweet thing like you, they didn’t sound half as provocative as they should have.

Oh, Jason was definitely going to call you.

em’s masterlist | jason todd masterlist wc: 2.2k request: no

˙⋆✮ a/n: this was inspired by sth that happened to me this week lol. lowk don’t like ts, but i’ll post it anyway, bc i don’t want to scrap the fic. and also again, this is a drabble that turned into a one-shot. like, ugh, guys, i cannot write short stuff for the life of me 😭😭 this isn’t even acc long to me, but it’s definitely also not drabble-kinda short ykwim

taglists down below! to be added to one, check out... taglist

all my works: @sxphr2 @champagnesbiggestproblem @slut4hotppl @6000-fandoms @starr-jazz @therealmoonstone

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jason todd works: nobody here yet…

[vetckkie]

˖ ࣪౨ৎ˚₊ MDNI. not proofread

bruce wayne doesn't know how to be exes. doesn't know how to act like an ex husband, doesn't know how to function without you either. its just been 6 months since your divorce. you both decided it was for the best, something about him focusing on crime rates in gotham rather than focusing on you, his wife. and no, you didn't just sit back and take the neglect. god, no. you put the divorce papers on his desk, the noise of the folder hitting it echoing as a slap, and? well..he respected your decsion.

but he also missed you, terribly. missed that fire. and so after making up some pathetic excuse of coming over to your apartment to 'drop something you left', he was now on your bed, having you spread out on all fours so prettily, his cock teased your swollen bud from behind, leaving you whining.

bruce speaks first "missed you baby.. missed this pussy." he speaks in that gruff voice of his. the voice you've heard so many times before.

you roll your eyes, the very same fire he fell for in the first place, "prove it then."

and that was it. bruce pushes into your wetness, you groan at the stretch as he bottoms out with a groan. the delicious fullness of it all coaxed a moan out of you as the filthy sound of wet skin slapping echoed throughout the room. his head repeatedly hitting that sweet spot, feeling like ecstasy. you could feel the veins, feel every pulse, feel every little drop of pre cum that dripped from his sensitive tip. his arm comes up, wrapping around your waist as he pounds into you from behind, hands working their way up to your tits. "gonna marry you again" bruce grunts in your ear while fucking you into oblivion.

bruce wayne doesn't know how to be exes. how could he?

⋆˚࿔ᝰ.ᐟmain m.list

[supermenz]

more from this universe

Jon: Sometimes I think that it's weird how your sister's dating one of my dad's alternative versions. Then again, it's probably the least weird thing about them dating.

Damian: I mean, he does threaten to reset the universe again whenever father won't invite him to barbecues.

Dick: And when he's not invited to League missions.

Tim: And when we don't ask if he wants to come to game nights.

Cass: And whenever I tell him that his girlfriend should find someone more suitable.

Jason:

Jason: I don't know he looks pretty chill to me

[asexual-goddessss]

I just really like them and like projecting my own sapphic experiences on them 🥰🖤🥹

Just a rough - slightly hideous - sketch nothing serious

[motelbabyydoll]

Omg can you please please do older bf/sugar daddy Bruce I absolutely love ur work

Older bf Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Sorry for my absence, life has been beating me up (quite literally), but I am back in full swing. As always, the age gap is legal, I feel the need to mention it. cw: fluff, age gap, insecurities (?), smut in part 2 summary: Bruce takes you out on a date for your birthday, but when people begin to look at you wrong he takes matters into his own hands.

part 1 | part 2

You weren’t completely sure how your arrangement with Bruce had begun, but somewhere between flirty conversations at events and muttered hellos in passing, the two of you had fallen into a steady rhythm. What started as a simple acquaintance had blossomed into a relationship.

So now there you were, standing on the street outside of your apartment, phone in hand, carelessly scrolling as you waited for his car to show up. You heard it first, roaring from down the street, and then you saw it— saw him, as he rolled the window down to greet you— park in front of you.

He got out of the car and jogged towards you, embracing you once he got to you.

"How's the birthday girl doing?" He spoke into your hair, breathing you in.

"Better now that you're here." You mutter, face smushed against his shirt.

He led you back to the car, opened the door and helped you settle against the seat before jogging back to the driver's seat.

You rested your head against the car window, watching the city streets, the night lights, the traffic go by. Bruce's hand laid steadily atop your thigh, his touch warm and grounding. He squeezed your flesh periodically, as if to remind you he was there.

"I got you something, but you'll have to see it later, 'kay?" He mumbled, looking over at you, the red light of the stoplight made his sharp features stand out, his gaze almost aggressive.

"Then why tell me now?"

"Because I don't want my girl thinking I'm not spoiling her. I'd just...rather do it somewhere private." He winked at you before hitting the throttle again once the lights went green.

The first thing you noticed when you walked into the restaurant was the low lights and the soft jazz music playing. Then, you noticed the people—couples having dinner, just like you and Bruce—except they didn't look like you, not really. The women were middle-aged, dressed in classy pearl-colored dresses with tastefully painted nails, their skin pulled taut and diamonds adorning their wrists. Their husbands looked just like your boyfriend.

Bruce had assured you many times you belonged there, but standing there, waiting for the maitre'd to come over, in your high heels, red dress on hugging your waist, you couldn't have felt more out of place.

He squeezed your hand arrhythmically, brought it up to his lips, kissed your knuckles. When you did nothing in response he looked over at you, one brow raised in concern. You didn't meet his gaze, to engrossed in a staring contest with a woman in some other table. Way to spend your birthday.

Once the maitre'd got back to where you stood he excused his absence and led you to your table, in a secluded booth, away from prying eyes. Bruce had always valued privacy, more so when he started dating you, the backlash came almost instantly after your first public appearance together, and then never really stopped; you'd learned to ignore it, Bruce did the best he could to help you avoid it.

Throughout the dinner you felt their eyes on you, like phantoms poking at your skin, vipers biting at your flesh. You knew the looks you were getting without even having to turn your head.

Bruce held your hand on the table, his fingers, curious, played with your rings, your acrylics, your bracelets. He failed to notice the way your heart sped up and your eyes found solace in your lap, the way your palms began to sweat and your cheeks reddened. At least you weren't fucking crying, you thought, but then the waiter brought a birthday cake, and more eyes were on you, and you swore you were happy but god could people mind their business?

Bruce noticed after taking a photo of you, trying your hardest to smile for him, he was so happy, smiling softly under the low lights of the restaurant, his gaze sticky and thick like caramel— and then he noticed, your smile faltered for a second, your brows knit with discomfort as you tugged on your clothes, your hair, the stupid napkin on your lap that wasn't smooth enough, why wasn't it smooth enough.

"Hey," His deep voice broke you out of your worries, "let's leave. I'll get the check, you wait in the car, how does that sound?"

"Yeah, fine. Sorry, I just—"

"—got overwhelmed, I know. I know you." His voice was authoritative and sweet, in a way that made you feel protected, safe, like you could just let him take the lead and you'd get to where you needed because he always looked out for you.

You got up from your chair, gathered your stuff and exited the restaurant, trying your hardest not to break in there. The tears came as you sat in the car waiting for Bruce. You saw him move around the establishment, talking to servers and the maitre'd, from the stern look on his face it seemed like he was arguing. He always did that, got into passive aggressive arguments to defend you.

And then he walked out, winking at you, smirk on his face.

"Bought the place. We'll do some...staff rearrangements, change some of the rules...ban a few people, maybe next time we'll be able to actually enjoy our dinner in there."

Your tears dried down almost instantly, sobs replaced by giggles. "B, that's so reckless! You can't just buy a restaurant because someone in there looked at me wrong." "Yes, I can," He hummed. "It's your birthday." He argued.

Bruce had never been one for bold displays of affection— you sometimes swore he had the emotional range of a wet wipe— and he found that spending his money was a way for him to demonstrate he loved without having to risk anything. That's why you'd learned moments like this mattered, where he bought a restaurant out of spite for all of the clientele, threatening to ban them if you wanted to dine there again.

But what you liked the most was when he wasn't trying to prove he could love, when he simply did it. When he took pictures of you when you were sleeping or eating, or sitting in the yard drinking coffee in the morning, pictures he took to remember how his heart had done a little flip when he saw you like that.

When he struggled trying to post them on social media, because you looked so beautiful the whole world had to know. His usually deft fingers, so smooth when it came to Batman technology, felt too big, too heavy for instagram.

The car ride back to the manor was quiet, his hand traced small circles on the flesh of your thigh all the way. He was at your side, picking you up into his arms immediately after parking the car and killing the engine, apologetic look on his face.

"I really wanted it to be a good birthday for you, sweet thing, I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck as he carried you upstairs.

"B, don't say that, it wasn't bad. I was with you."

Once he got to the bedroom he set you down on the bed, beside a pink box with black bows on it— your birthday present, lingerie. How on brand for him— but his gaze was stuck on you.

His hands caressed your ankles before he helped you kick off your shoes, finally looking away from you, offering the pink box to you by setting it on your lap.

"You don't have to wear it tonight, we can just put you to bed and leave it for tomorrow, but I thought you'd look beautiful in that." He whispered on your ear from over your shoulder.

You nodded silently and undid the bows, opening the box to reveal a black lace matching set, pretty soft pink bow at the front of the panties.

"I'll go put it on."

"Okay." He kissed the exposed skin of your back, and tapped you in the ass once you'd gotten up from the bed.

────୨ৎ────

co-written with @cherrycolaheartss tags: @laceyfaeryy, @resting-confused-face

[wysteriadragon777]

Sinestro, Hal Jordan, and the Case for Canonical Queer Coding

I finally fucking did it.

I made my master post character analysis of Sinestro's queer-coding and his relationship with Hal Jordan in canon media and comics. These are just my thoughts from over the years and I'm mainly just posting this for my own reference tbh lmao! The analysis with canon reference can be found below keep reading.

Hope you enjoy!

Let's break this down and get into Sinestro's design--- not as a headcanon, but as a character whose canon history, symbolism, and emotional center repeatedly point toward queer coding, particularly in relation to Hal Jordan.

This isn’t about claiming Sinestro is explicitly gay in-text. It’s about acknowledging that his most intimate, obsessive, formative, and enduring bond in DC canon is with another man, and that this bond eclipses every other relationship he’s ever had.

1. Sinestro’s romantic history is strikingly limited

Across decades of comics, Sinestro has had very few romantic or sexual relationships, none of which are treated as central to his character:

Arin Sur, his late wife — a foundational tragedy, but long in the past

Lyssa Drak, an advisor he sleeps with in passing

Arsona, a Korugarian officer he held feelings for

And that’s… basically it.

None of these relationships:

Define Sinestro’s arc

Reshape his ideology

Rival his emotional intensity elsewhere

Haunt him the way one relationship does

Because Hal Jordan eclipses all of them.

2. Hal Jordan is Sinestro’s emotional axis

Sinestro has:

Called Hal his truest friend

Called Hal his most hated enemy

Stated their bond is a tragedy because they will always be friends no matter what

Identified Hal as the person who causes him the greatest pain and turmoil

Expressed a desire to teach Hal fear the same way he once taught him will

That isn't casual rivalry. It's intimacy reframed as conflict.

One of the clearest examples comes when Sinestro is confronted by his greatest fear — and Hal Jordan manifests. Not Arin. Not Korugar. Not the Guardians.

Hal.

Fear reveals the heart. And Sinestro’s heart revealed Hal.

3. Mentor, fixation, obsession — the foundation of their bond

Sinestro wasn’t just another Lantern to Hal.

He was:

Hal’s mentor

The Greatest Green Lantern of All before Hal

The standard Hal measured himself against

The person Hal openly admits he wanted to follow more than impress anyone else

Hal has canonically stated that his ambition wasn’t about greatness — it was about being by Sinestro’s side and doing what Sinestro believed was right.

That level of devotion, especially from a hero like Hal Jordan, is not neutral.

4. Violence, restraint, and physicality as intimacy

Sinestro is repeatedly shown:

Choking Hal

Restraining him

Holding him physically still while asserting dominance

Speaking the final word— which Hal does not challenge

This is not portrayed as random brutality. It’s specific, focused, and exclusive.

Sinestro does not engage this way with others.

The physicality reads less as hatred and more as possession, control, and unresolved intimacy.

Imma just drop this here

and

5. “Enemy” and “friend” as the same person

Sinestro has only ever framed one person as both:

His greatest enemy

His closest equal

His most trusted mind

His deepest wound

Hal Jordan.

Love is often described as a sword and a shield — the thing that protects us and the thing that can hurt us most, because it knows where we’re vulnerable.

That duality maps perfectly onto Sinestro’s relationship with Hal.

6. Meta-text matters: casting, creators, and visual coding

Queer coding isn’t just textual — it’s historical and visual.

In Green Lantern: First Flight, Sinestro is voiced by Victor Garber, who is a gay actor

In the Silver/Bronze Age, Sinestro briefly wears a single earring in his right ear, a known queer-coded signal for the era.

That visual detail is later removed as DC moved toward stricter, sanitized masculinity

Queer coding often isn’t erased because it was meaningless — it’s erased because it was too readable.

7. Sinestro does not “spread” his fixation — it is singular

Sinestro does not obsess this way over:

The Guardians

Korugar

The Corps as individuals

Any romantic partner

His fixation is singular, enduring, and personal.

And it’s Hal.

8. I'm shipping them — and it’s character/literary analysis lmao

Sinestro’s emotional core centers on a man

That bond is deeper than any heterosexual relationship he’s had

The narrative repeatedly frames that bond with intensity, obsession, tragedy, and inevitability.

That is queer coding.

My final thoughts...

Sinestro’s relationship with Hal Jordan isn't incidental. Not replaceable. Or mirrored elsewhere in his life.

It's the relationship that pretty much defines him.

And when a character’s deepest fear, greatest pain, truest friend, most hated enemy, and original pupil are all the same man— it’s worth asking why???

Because rivalry alone doesn’t explain that.

But love— complicated, obsessive, tragic love— does. And also Imma drop my favorite panel of them--

Thank you for reading!