one of the reasons why I enjoy Ali Hazelwood's Bride is that after the hero gets the heroine off for the first time, he (a werewolf) tells her that she "smells like she just came" and she's like well I did so that's nice and he's like no you don't understand now I need to eat you out it's my culture
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imagine going somewhere that you know you might not come back from. imagine leaving behind half-formed friendships and the facimile of your old ones, hand in hand with ppl who want you dead, because its the right thing to do. imagine you don't come back, just like you anticipated, except thats not entirely true. you dont survive, but some force stops you from leaving in peace; it leaves your body lifeless because it has no use for you besides the terror your mind can inflict on others, but it just won't let you die. imagine one day, you're free from the mental prison you've been trapped in. you wake up, but you're still not alive. you're cold and empty and no one looks at you the same because they can't stand to look at you. it hurts because you can't do anything but hurt people anymore. imagine you had no choice in this, except you did, didn't you? its all your fault because you were too curious, too naive, too prideful, too stupid. its all your fault, just like you always thought, and now everyone agrees with you. imagine they wish you hadn't woken up, and you can't help but agree with them. and yet, you do everything in your power to save them all, while you still have people left to save. because you're still you, even if your friends see an animated corpse in your place. you hold onto your humanity with white knuckles and gritted teeth because its all you have left of yourself. and you still lose by the end because you were set up to fail since the beginning. because you are jonathan sims, and the world has no sympathy for you
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I can literally never ever complain about not feeling loved ever again because my dog just jumped out of a fucking second story window because i was in the yard without her. And its not even that shes a stupid dog shes incredibly smart she just has insanely bad risk assessment to the point where she thinks the potential detriment of jumping two stories down through a lilac bush and over a canopy could not possibly be worse than having to go another five minutes without me ..... she is a loser but she is MY loser <3
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the man who falls – secret origins (1989)
[ID: Two cropped comic pages of Bruce Wayne as a child after falling into a cave and being ambushed by a swarm of bats. There's multiple narration boxes over the pages:
Page One: a three panel sequence of Bruce being rescued by his father. In the first panel, Bruce is screaming with his eyes squeezed shut in fear. He has his fists clenched in front of him and is wearing a reddish pink turtleneck sweater. The narration says, ‘Again, he shrieked — not in terror, but in despair...’ In the second panel, Thomas Wayne is shown from behind in a low angle. He's wearing a red sweater similar to Bruce and is holding a flashlight as he jerks Bruce into him. Above them is bats surrounding them and the broken wood floors that Bruce fell through. The narration continues, ‘The arm curled around him, muffling his voice, and his cheek rubbed against the rough wool of his father's jacket... He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to be away from here—’. In the third panel, they're standing outside. The narration reads, ‘When he opened them, he was in the area behind the mansion, in the pale light of the autumn afternoon, and his father's words pounded at him—’. Thomas is kneeling down in front of Bruce in front of the hole he fell in. He's gripping the child's shoulders as he scolds him, “Idiot! I told you never, never to go off alone. Didn't I? Didn't I?” Martha Wayne is behind them with her hand on the side of her face as she looks at them with relief that Bruce is okay.
Page Two: Martha is defending Bruce as Bruce has his head down. Thomas is still squeezing Bruce's shoulders as Martha tells him, “Thomas, he's frightened.” Thomas replies, “He damn well ought to be. He could have been killed.” Martha replaces Thomas's spot in front of Bruce, kneeling to gently place a hand on his upper arm and using a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. Bruce is standing with his fist still clenched and grimacing as Thomas angrily says, “He's got to learn.” Bruce is shown in a low angle, looking up at his mother with wide eyes. The narration continues, ‘He listened to his father's boots crushing the dead grass, and when he could no longer hear them, he dared to ask:’ “Mommy, was I in hell?” Martha soothes, “No, baby, that was just some old cave. You're safe now,” as she hugs him. His cheek is pressed against hers and she has her eyes closed as Bruce still looks uncertain. END ID]
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imagining uncharged roy angst…like him miraculously trying to be a better man despite it being completely against his intrinsic nature. kinda pathetically trying to bond with his wife and his son when they’re near the mirror and just completely failing at it. trying to be effortlessly charming like his counterpart but it ends up looking fake and creepy and manipulative. only being able to live vicariously through smart roy when he receives physical affections. constant little reminders of why he’s the one stored away and trying to convince himself it’s unjustified. is that in character at all?
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i think you’re one of like 5 people i’ve seen who actually likes the hermes casting choice omg
ajsdfjnsknj i'm being so unironic right now i'm gonna get so much joy out of watching that man prance around in dumb little winged shoes delivering magic mail. I think he's going to be a delight
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What if I was your servant and you promised me a better life and I believed you and then you used me and resented me I saw you at your worst and I held the attention of someone you loved despite the fact you treat them like shit and so you took out your anger on me all the cruelty in the world and as I suffered you sat back with a cup of tea and smiled and you killed your beloved in front of me just to prove a point that they belonged to you and all I can do is watch and then when you just can’t stand the sight of me anymore you cry loud enough for the world to hear you that I’m the dangerous one, a wicked seductress, a witch, and I burn and burn and burn and you go home and laugh, relieved of this burden, the world sings your praises yet you are nothing but alone and miserable and I crawl my way in i appear in your mirror I breathe down your neck you bleed all my blood and you drown in it and it’s funny really how for someone who’s supposedly so evil all I have to do to provoke you is stare with honest eyes and that sight just pushes you over the edge and you have the fucking audacity to scream, plead for help, to actually sob about it like you’re the victim like you’ve always been the poor little victim and you tighten your rope and breathe your last breath and I embrace you from behind and drag my teeth across your neck and dig my nails into your chest and you wait for it to fade to black but your eyes refuse to close and I squeeze over your heart and feel it beat faster and faster and we laugh together and we both know I can see how pathetic you really are and I just keep holding you tighter because I don’t want to know what’d happen if I let you go I don’t think I could ever take my eyes off you again and you could’ve apologized to me even once but you never fucking did and you never will and the world will always see you as the beautiful tragic victim, the hero this town needed, and when they think of evil my face will always be the one they see every fucking time and so I refuse to let go and let you go on believing you’re a saint, committing every atrocity imaginable and using my name to do so, you’re going to hell with me and we will burn and burn and burn and we’re literally both girls 😳🙊🙀
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