#where like

It's like she's trapped in her own ever prison, doomed to watch the world from behind a steel curtain while never, ever being able to participate in it again.

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(Shows picture of utterly morally reprehensible female character people only defend because they find attractive.)

anyway check this out -> @eddies-post-office

“But I should have expected no better, as this is a false country— I have been compelled to see its falsehoods, to see that all of society and law and government and legislation and magistracy and sovereign authority and civil service and penal codes and all the dogmas on which rest political and civil security, can apparently only be summed up as a great farce someone is playing,” Javert’s words began to blend together into an utterly incoherent snarl of rage, “it is all deceit, deceit from on high, from the very forces ‘on high’ they tell you are incapable of deceit, they lie to their servants, so that their servants believe themselves honest when they are simply party to a great lie—and then they put their empty-headed imps of dandies into the uniforms of lieutenants, and they put their saints in the green caps of galley-slaves and brand them ‘forced labor for life,’ and they trick their honest servants into crime by dressing up the true authorities in the costumes of the false, and the false authorities in the costumes of the true! If there is any ‘true’ authority all! If one can trust in anything! If there is not a rift in the very firmament! If it is not all rubbish, waste, anarchy, a shapeless mass, ruin, chaos—If the very ground beneath our feet does not give way—!” “Oh,” Jean Valjean said, stumbling on a loose paving stone; he lost his balance, clutched at Javert’s coat, and dragged him to the side. Javert staggered.  In a moment the two of them had fallen to the cobblestones in a confused painful tangle of limbs. “Hmm!” Javert said, extricating himself from underneath Jean Valjean. Then he rose to his hands and knees and shook the sewer mire off himself, like a dog shaking the mud out of its fur.  “This is why thought is useless,” Javert explained with a wag of his finger, haughtily dropping his eyelids. “See there! I was too busy thinking over some nonsense or other I have already settled, that I did not see the loose stone. You see what it is.” “Ah,” Jean Valjean said, lying face-down on the pavement.

that's hard enough modern day where we acknowledge abuse as a thing, let alone in Victorian times without the language. and drac is also very much a vampire. blorbo ultimate harker jonathan i love you hang in there baby