inside me there are two lungs. and one liver. one stomach. a few meters of intestine. there's a lot inside me actually
I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.
You know the kind of shows I mean.
The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.
So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.
Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)
(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))
Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.
People tell you this a lot when you’re disabled or when you’re dating a disabled person: “your partner should not be your caregiver.”
It makes sense and is good advice. If you are dependent on any one person for all your emotional and physical needs, it creates the potential for abuse. And there are times when you or your partner might be exhausted or need to unwind emotionally and can’t take on any more tasks, even caregiving tasks for someone you love.
But at the same time, caregiving is inherently going to be a part of any crip4crip relationship. I’m writing this while curled up on the bathroom floor. My girlfriend was the one who brought me my emergency medication and my water because I was too sick to get up, even though our plan was to chill and watch a movie. She’ll probably help me to my feet in a few minutes, once the medication’s kicked in, and will walk me back to the couch. Earlier tonight, I made her dinner, while she lay on a heat pad. This morning, I helped her braid her hair.
It isn’t rotten work by any means, but it is work. And this is the work that our bodies need. Either you can do it yourself or you can’t. And if you can’t, your loved ones can step in sometimes. It isn’t unhealthy or wrong to help each other
Go Lovely Rose! Tell her that Wastes her Time and Mine by Herbert James Draper (English, 1864–1920)
the cruel prince: world’s most serious game of kiss, marry, kill
(you need to view the image or you'll just like the post)
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fuck my stupid gay life i drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was DRY 😭😭😭
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