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Being Alone, Batman, and Friends: HIS PARENTS DIED WHEN HE WAS SO YOUNG SHOT KILLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM HIS WHOLE PLANET WAS DESTROYED HE'S THE LAST OF A HOLOCAUST HE WAS RAISED ALONE HE GREW UP IN THE DIRT A KID IN A HUGE MANSION FINDING OUT SLOWLY HOW DIFFERENT HE WAS WITH HIS MEMORIES OF HIS MOTHER AND FATHER A STRANGER DISCOVERING EVERY DAY HOw STRANGE HE WAS HE HAD LOVE, AND THEY TOOK IT FROM HIM НЕ SHOULD BE A KILLER HE HAS THE POWER TO TEAR THE HE SHOULD WANT TO TEAR THE WORLD APART FOR WHAT IT DID WORLD APART AND HE COULD WITH A PINKIE. HIS WORLD. WE'RE IT'S NOT NOT HIS PEOPLE. WE SHOULD BE ANTS TO HIM IMAGINE THAT. ALWAYS BEING ON THE OUTSIDE THE PAIN THAT WOULD COME FROM ALWAYS BEING ON THE OUTSIDE AND YET HE TOOK THAT PAIN THAT SHOCK OF DEATH AND YET HE TOOK THAT PAIN AND BECAME THE SYMBOL OF HOPE AND HE TURNED IT INTO HOPE I HAD THE LOVE OF PARENTS, I HAD MA AND PA THE WHOLE WAY I'M JUST A RICH KID FROM THE CITY I KNEW MY PARENTS I KNEW WHO I WAS, WHAT I HAD TO BE. I HAD A CHILD HOOD FULL OF LAUGHING AND LEARNING I HAVE POWERS. I HAD TO DO THIS ALL HE HAS ARE HIS WITS AND HIS CHOOSES TO I DIDN'T HAVE ANY CHOICE BUT TO BE WHO I AM AND HE DO THIS WILL HE HAD EVERY CHOICE -AND HE BECAME WHO HE IS. EVERYONE WANTS TO BE HIM EVERY KID IS INSPIRED BY HIM HE'S JUST A BETTER MAN THAN I AM HE'S A BETTER MAN THAN I AM. acutelatios: samalexandxr: - He got engaged. He didn’t call me. Okay. That’s his way of telling me… We’re not friends. Not really.   - You can’t be friends with him. Not when you’re… He doesn’t need to congratulate me. Look at me. Who am I compared to him?   - He is who he is. He doesn’t need a friend. He doesn’t need… He isn’t like me.   - He’s Superman.   - He’s Batman. Batman #36 (2017) HOLY SHIT I THINK THIS IS THE NEXT PANEL?
nsfw
Being Alone, Batman, and Friends: HIS
 PARENTS
 DIED WHEN
 HE WAS SO
 YOUNG
 SHOT
 KILLED
 RIGHT IN
 FRONT OF
 HIM
 HIS WHOLE
 PLANET WAS
 DESTROYED
 HE'S THE
 LAST OF A
 HOLOCAUST
 HE WAS
 RAISED
 ALONE
 HE GREW
 UP IN THE
 DIRT
 A KID
 IN A HUGE
 MANSION
 FINDING
 OUT SLOWLY
 HOW DIFFERENT
 HE WAS
 WITH HIS
 MEMORIES OF
 HIS MOTHER AND
 FATHER
 A STRANGER
 DISCOVERING
 EVERY DAY HOw
 STRANGE HE
 WAS

 HE HAD
 LOVE, AND
 THEY TOOK IT
 FROM HIM
 НЕ
 SHOULD BE
 A KILLER
 HE HAS
 THE POWER
 TO TEAR THE
 HE SHOULD
 WANT TO TEAR
 THE WORLD APART
 FOR WHAT IT
 DID
 WORLD
 APART
 AND HE
 COULD
 WITH A
 PINKIE. HIS WORLD. WE'RE
 IT'S NOT
 NOT HIS PEOPLE. WE
 SHOULD BE ANTS
 TO HIM
 IMAGINE
 THAT. ALWAYS
 BEING ON THE
 OUTSIDE
 THE PAIN
 THAT WOULD
 COME FROM ALWAYS
 BEING ON THE
 OUTSIDE
 AND
 YET HE TOOK
 THAT PAIN
 THAT
 SHOCK OF
 DEATH
 AND YET
 HE TOOK THAT
 PAIN AND BECAME
 THE SYMBOL OF
 HOPE
 AND
 HE TURNED
 IT INTO
 HOPE

 I HAD
 THE LOVE OF
 PARENTS, I HAD
 MA AND PA
 THE WHOLE
 WAY
 I'M JUST
 A RICH KID
 FROM THE
 CITY
 I KNEW
 MY PARENTS
 I KNEW WHO I
 WAS, WHAT I
 HAD TO
 BE.
 I HAD
 A CHILD
 HOOD FULL OF
 LAUGHING AND
 LEARNING
 I HAVE
 POWERS. I
 HAD TO DO
 THIS
 ALL HE
 HAS ARE HIS
 WITS AND HIS CHOOSES TO
 I DIDN'T
 HAVE ANY CHOICE
 BUT TO BE WHO
 I AM
 AND HE
 DO THIS
 WILL
 HE
 HAD EVERY
 CHOICE
 -AND
 HE BECAME
 WHO HE
 IS.

 EVERYONE
 WANTS TO BE
 HIM
 EVERY KID
 IS INSPIRED
 BY HIM
 HE'S JUST
 A BETTER MAN
 THAN I AM
 HE'S
 A BETTER
 MAN THAN
 I AM.
acutelatios:

samalexandxr:


- He got engaged. He didn’t call me. Okay. That’s his way of telling me… We’re not friends. Not really.  
- You can’t be friends with him. Not when you’re… He doesn’t need to congratulate me. Look at me. Who am I compared to him?  
- He is who he is. He doesn’t need a friend. He doesn’t need… He isn’t like me.  
- He’s Superman.  
- He’s Batman.
Batman #36 (2017)


HOLY SHIT I THINK THIS IS THE NEXT PANEL?

acutelatios: samalexandxr: - He got engaged. He didn’t call me. Okay. That’s his way of telling me… We’re not friends. Not really.   - Yo...

Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie:

xilast-zurvifferman:

thejorie:

jackbecq:

thejorie:

19leahjade96:

thejorie:

madamekagamine:

thejorie:

gccgrimm:

thejorie:

gucciballs:

thejorie:

peble:

thejorie:

My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

Yes, actually.

you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? 

It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)

They don’t look like they smoke weed.

Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.

Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.

I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 

Well that escalated quickly……

What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*

this dude playin omg 

Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie:...