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I THREW YOUR SHIT INTO A BAG I PUSHED IT DOWN THE STAIRS
I CRASHED MY CAR INTO THE BRIDGE I WATCHED I LET IT BURN
|Name:||ᴀɴᴛɪʜᴇʀᴏɪᴄ ʜᴏᴛ ᴍᴇss|
|Location:||United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland|
In the moments where she's tempted - and there are moments - she sees herself in her mind's eye like something out of her father's dog-eared bible, old testament, sinking her hands into a place and dredging up animosity and violence and destruction and rage. Things burn. It's that kind of fantasy. It's also a bit quaintly old fashioned, any more, and just because she sometimes likes the idea of pretending to be a war goddess doesn't mean it's a good idea. Stick with bar fights and making fun of Blake's ties and reflecting, now and then, on whether it's nature or nurture that leaves her so unfazed by what she sees from the corner of her eye. Maybe, she sometimes speculates, it's just because he is exactly the sort of prick no one would ever be surprised to discover is exactly what he is.
That's probably what it is.
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