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me after playing arkham asylum for an hour: i am trying to be patient but the lord is testing me
me after playing arkham asylum for another hour: i tried to be patient but IT WAS WORTH IT FOR JOKER MAPS
He stood a head above his fellow countrymen, both literally and figuratively. In comparison to the woman before him, Reaver appeared almost KING like– Everything about him practically screamed pride and arrogance. Lady Amalthea was most certainly eye catching and of pure elegance, but it was REAVER whose presence commanded attention.
Giving a bit of a chuckle, Reaver would sway ever so slightly; elevating his chin as he did so in an attempt to make himself appear even taller.
“Because, my dear Lady, you don’t seem to have the faintest clue as to who I am! And we simply cannot have that!”
She saw him cock his chin up, noticed every little tweak and adjustment he made to heighten himself in the eyes of everyone who passed him. It didn’t impress Amalthea even slightly - the image he really projected, of a man who’d follow a stranger who wasn’t familiar with his face, was almost counteractively pathetic. He was trying, though, that much he could say for himself. No trace of this crossed her face, though; her eyes remained patient, her composure still.
“Tell me, then: I fear I have no way of knowing otherwise.”
“Mmm, no. I’m afraid not. No other man’s features are nearly beautiful enough to find themselves upon my walls– That one in particular is of me.”
“ For a portrait that old...so the gossip must be true, then; you do have immortal life?”
youmaggots replied to your post:me after playing arkham asylum for an hour: i am...
one time i wrote batman and it was the hardest thing ive done
i think this is why i constantly teeter totter towards writing the joker
because i can neither be the batman nor write the batman
me after playing arkham asylum for an hour: i am trying to be patient but the lord is testing me
She shimmered.
The figure of an ordinary woman stood swimming in that mess of moonstruck hair - soft, thin body, forlorn lilac eyes turned far from any indoor commotion to the nearest window. No drop of blood she spilled would look different from any others, no pulse would feel outwardly strange…not even the mark upon her forehead, spectacular as it was, was beyond the realm of human comprehension.
But she did what no ordinary woman could do, in a way that no one could define; as she stood, still and silent as the darkest hour of night, she shimmered, and only one person caught the damning act.
She shimmered.
The figure of an ordinary woman stood swimming in that mess of moonstruck hair - soft, thin body, forlorn lilac eyes turned far from any indoor commotion to the nearest window. No drop of blood she spilled would look different from any others, no pulse would feel outwardly strange…not even the mark upon her forehead, spectacular as it was, was beyond the realm of human comprehension.
But she did what no ordinary woman could do, in a way that no one could define; as she stood, still and silent as the darkest hour of night, she shimmered, and only one person caught the damning act.
The Hobbit 1977 and 2012 parallels
@bravesthobbit you’re not allowed to talk to me unless you use 1977 icons
i’ve decided
She shimmered.
The figure of an ordinary woman stood swimming in that mess of moonstruck hair - soft, thin body, forlorn lilac eyes turned far from any indoor commotion to the nearest window. No drop of blood she spilled would look different from any others, no pulse would feel outwardly strange...not even the mark upon her forehead, spectacular as it was, was beyond the realm of human comprehension.
But she did what no ordinary woman could do, in a way that no one could define; as she stood, still and silent as the darkest hour of night, she shimmered, and only one person caught the damning act.
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