Send My Muse Anons Pretending To Be Someone They Care About. The Twist: Make These Anons As Heartbreaking,

Send my muse anons pretending to be someone they care about. The twist: make these anons as heartbreaking, disappointing, or anger-inducing as possible.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

it's always so fascinating and heartbreaking when a character in a story is simultaneously idolized and abused. a chosen prophet destined for martyrdom. a child prodigy forced to grow up too fast. a powerful warrior raised as nothing but a weapon. there's just something so uniquely messed up about singing someone's praises whilst destroying them.

Alfred doesn’t pretend to know what goes on in Bruce’s head, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. And if Bruce is spending more time with the Justice League than normal, there must be a reason for it. And if there’s a reason for it, Alfred will be informed. Hopefully. He knows all too well Bruce’s penchant for secrecy. “While I am sure Master Bruce has his reasons,” he starts, hands clasped behind his back as he looks over at her, “I am also sure that he will inform us of those reasons as soon as he can.” Alfred will be informed. He’s not so sure about her. But he doesn’t say that. There’s no use riling her up again.

@notefinal said: “ Come now, is that any way to talk to me? ” / alfred to gotham

For a moment, she looks legitimately chastened. Draws back, brows furrowing over too-familiar eyes. It's quickly chased away by amusement. Something closer to her normal self-possessed mien. Still, she inclines her head. Slight, but clear.

He may not be of Gotham, originally, but that's only more reason for him to have earned her respect.

"But you agree. It's untenable. It was one thing for him to join them for emergencies, but this?"

GOTHAM 2.03 “The Last Laugh”

He laughs softly at Ennis’ words. “That so?” He can’t quite fathom being the death of anybody, let alone Ennis Del Mar. It’s not something he’s ever considered, and it’s not something he wants to start considering. Especially not now. Thinking about Ennis dying, even if they’re joking, sends a chill through him. Jack may not know much, but he knows he doesn’t want Ennis to die. He also knows that’s probably a big thing to know at this point in their—whatever this is, but he knows it. Thankfully, he’s saved from that line of thought by Ennis moving closer. Jack blinks, his gaze dropping to Ennis’ mouth for a second before he looks up again. “Wouldn’t dream of it, cowboy.”

𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 , 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐃 to die by overconsumption. of jack , at least. he hears jacks' words despite being spoken under his breath. in so many frames of mind , he's sure they could be on the same page. should be. and probably are. ennis thinks on this for a moment. he always does — think before he speaks. too much for his own good. no word comes easily out of his own lips. ❝ you'll be th' death of me then. ❞ he owes him some shard of his own soul , he supposes. this place feels too much their own to admit anything less. he leans over to jack , whiskey in his veins and only half creating the heat he feels there. lips hover some centimeters away from his companions'. ❝ don't make me regret you. ❞

Lock’s eyes narrow. “I own these woods.” He and Mother own these woods. “And I’m not a man. I’m a boy.” He doesn’t like the idea of being a man. His father is a man, and his father broke Mother’s heart. If that’s what men do, he doesn’t want to be a man. His eyes narrow even further as Honey continues to speak. They’re not making any sense. Lock doesn’t like it when things don’t make sense. Lock doesn’t like a lot of things, but he especially doesn’t like it when things don’t make sense.

“I don’t want to give you anything. I want you to leave.” He’ll kill them if he has to, but he’s feeling generous today. He’ll give them time to leave on their own before he kills them. He shouldn’t, but he will.

ONCE BROWN EYES ARE STAINED with yellow. The colour sprinkled through like stars. Soon, they would take another shape. Soon, they would no longer appear human to the eyes of the manboy before them. SOMETHING WITH A SNOUT, perhaps ? Something with teeth sharp enough to tear flesh, for certain. ❝ Man owns nothing. ❞ They snarl, certain of their words. ❝ Only that which they make, but even that is borrowed from the land. ❞

Who are they ? An excellent question. What do they want ? An even better one. Honey tilts their head, and squints their eyes. ❝ They call me Honey, or nothing at all. And what I want is unknown even to me, but I know it is not anything you can give. ❞