do you think fourteen has a breakdown one day about just how much time with donna he lost. it was that easy, the whole time, for the metacrisis issue to be resolved, and instead of him ever figuring that out, he lost years and years of a life he could have had with her. he stood on the outskirts of her wedding. he wasn’t there when she was pregnant with rose and wasn’t there when she had her. he wasn’t there for a thousand little moments where he could have made her laugh. every time she looked for him without remembering who she was looking for could have been a time he was standing next to her. and he’s never going to get that back. time machine at his fingertips and yet somehow the one thing he never has enough of is time.
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i hate being a mentally ill adult actually. i hate that there’s always groceries to be bought and housekeeping to do and work in the morning i hate that we have no space to feel it all i hate that we walk around acting normal. there are so many people i know who are clearly deeply unhappy with their lives and we make silly little jokes that allude to it but sometimes i want to grab them by the shoulders and scream ‘i know you are miserable!! we can’t keep living like this!! this is why people break!!’ im sick of this drudgerous apathy i want us all to be dramatic like when we were teenagers i want us to sob together and scream bloody murder at each other and tell each other we want to kill ourselves not as a funny post-ironic joke but because we all feel like that sometimes!! i want us to get fucked up on god knows what til we can’t open our eyes i want us to take care of each other instead of always taking care of ourselves i want us to be vulnerable i want us to hold each others hands in the ambulance!!
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do you ever come across a tumblr user and you go look at their blog and youre like. hmmm. i know how statistically unlikely it is that this is Will Campos. but it Could still technically be Will Campos
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I finally listened to the latest episode of the silt verses ("latest" meaning "it came out in january, I've just been really busy") and I don't want to be negative but I liked faulkner better when he was unhinged. No more pseudo-therapy or painfully honest conversations for these characters, they need to march to their doom being lonely, unfulfilled, and tragic.
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grimm – batman: legends of the dark knight #149
[ID: a panel sequence of young Dick Grayson just two months after his parents' murders. He's sulking at the dining table in the grandiose Wayne Manor. The dinner is taking place in front of a lit fireplace that causes the entire room to have a soft, bronze glow to it. The table itself is long and decorated and Bruce Wayne is sitting on the opposite end of it. Alfred Pennyworth prompts, “More mashed potatoes, Master Dick—?” But Dick is too busy thinking about a young criminal he ran into when he snuck out earlier. He quietly mutters the taunt she told him, “‘Spoiled brat in a circus suit’—?” Alfred asks, “Was that a yes or a no?” The pouting child brusquely tells him, ”no,” which causes the butler to clear his throat. Dick begrudgingly corrects himself, “No thank you, Alfred.” Alfred responds, “As you wish, Master Dick.”
But Dick is already uttering another taunt under his breath, “‘Lap of luxury’!” Bruce leans forward slightly and asks if everything is okay but Dick dismisses his concern. He excuses, “I'm... I'm not very hungry, Bruce. Is it okay if I go to my room?” Despite his obvious qualms, Bruce awkwardly smiles and replies, “Uh... Of course. Certainly.” Dick gets up as Alfred tells him the food will be in the refrigerator if he gets hungry later but Dick just ‘uh-huh’s him as he walks away. With the child upstairs, Bruce immediately stands up and paces. He stops in front of the fireplace and stares into the blaze as he monologues his worries, “Maybe this was a mistake. What in the world made me think I could raise a boy? I don't know the first thing about it! I've always been a loner! I don't have the knowledge... or the disposition... to make this work.” Alfred wryly asks, “Are you addressing the fireplace, Sir—or me?” But Bruce stresses his demur without looking at him, “His parents are dead, Alfred! What gives me the temerity to believe I can replace them in his life?”
Alfred solemnly reassures, “I asked myself the same questions once. What in the world did a butler know about raising a young man who'd just lost the two people he loved most in the world? But strangely enough, Sir—I adapted. I learned. I learned because I wanted to... Because I cared. And... despite some difficulties along the way—I think the young man in question turned out splendidly. And I think Master Dick will too.” Bruce doesn't say anything but he his eyes closed in thought as Alfred talks before looking at him with a soft smile. He straightens his posture when Alfred finishes and puts his hand on his shoulder, silently grateful for the man's fatherly reassurance and support once again. END ID]
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