#he gets sick

[ranarenee]

Bnuuys and tortols!!!1,!

[prettyboykatsuki]

isagi….baby. pookie you dont wanna know so dont ask questions you can’t handle the answers to 💔

he goes into ur insta comments from 96 weeks ago nauseous when guys r commenting “picture creds 😎”

[ideologyofone]

Do you think we’re soulmates in another universe?

[symphonyofsilence]

Let the poor man rest.

[wanologic]

reminder to take care of your loser human body

[notherpuppet]

Good morning 🍎📻

[stealingpotatoes]

the illness post is still getting notes (???!! <3) and that means people are still telling me to get better soon, which is really nice but im gonna be too powerful if i get any better

[arsenicpanda]

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S (2023)

[arr-jim-lad]

i cant even properly explain how it emotionally affects me when my cat comes up to me for cuddles. small creature walks up to me, a giant, in search of a gentle touch, because he trusts me completely. that is what love is. that is what the universe is built for. i want to cry

[mrdespondency]

lee's turn in the little shorts

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

"All your life, you've been rejected by this world."

"You have nothing down there."

"No one who cares about you."

[prlssprfctn]

Dick is a type of person who gets very (even more than usual) dramatic when he falls sick. His attention span reduces to zero, he is in the middle of writing his will, and he is constantly over-bored, bothering everyone with random calls or by spawning behind their backs out of nowhere.

(It doesn't help that Bruce is paranoid, and every time his kids get sick, he is like in full-time helicopter mom mode as if they are actually about to die in a second, but that's beside the point.)

When Tim gets sick, it is a catastrophe. He is so stubborn about everything that he ignores half of the house. He doesn't even tell others he is sick until he coughs out his lungs or something, and when they finally realize it, he is battling for the right to get everyone off him, because, hey. Nothing happened. He is fine.

If Damian gets sick... It is the cutest thing ever. He becomes so clingy. He comes to put his head on someone's lap or curls on their chests. He huffs a lot too, and mutters something, but he loves to sleep and be hugged, when he is sick, and that's the most charming shit ever.

When Jason gets sick?

Everyone expects him to be the most troublesome person in the world. Because, well, it is Jason. He kicks everyone away, when he is poisoned, he rarely asks to patch him up, unless things go to rough, and he can be flippant as hell when he feels too vulnerable.

But then, Jason actually gets sick, and everyone is an awe, because he is so quiet? His voice becomes smaller, he does whatever Alfred asks him to do, he takes all medicine without throwing a tantrum or asking to sweeten it with something else. He accepts anything, really.

Because when he was a child, long before Bruce found him, he had no place or time to be sick. His mother needed him. He needed to take care of things, he heeded to continue acting like he was fine, like he didn't need help or medicine — he walked around with a fever, and spend restless nights coughing out his lungs.

But then Bruce came. And he was finally allowed to rest. Explained that he needs to be taken care of, and someone in this manor, always will do that for him.

So, when Jason stumbles in the Batcave in the random night, sniffling and trying to suppress cough, Bruce is not surprised in the slightest. If anything, he welcomes him as fast as he can, before Jason can overthink what he did (out of pure instincts, really) and leave again.

Jason came, because Bruce taught him that.

As simple as that.

[chloesimaginationthings]

You think FNAF Pit Bonnie has William’s memories?..

[beastlyidiocy]

when the 𝑓(𝑥) = 𝑎𝑥³ + 𝑏𝑥² + 𝑐𝑥 + 𝑑 😋

[squidsmeister]

dungeon meshi is my favorite road-trip comedy film

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.