It is very easy to conform to what your society or your parents and teachers tell you. That is a safe and easy way of existing; but that is not living. To live is to find out for yourself what is true.
After witnessing the violent rage shown by babies whenever deprived of an item they considered their own, Jean Piaget, a founding father of child psychology, observed something profound about human nature. Our sense of ownership emerges incredibly early. Why are we so clingy?
There’s a well-established phenomenon in psychology known as the endowment effect where we value items much more highly just as soon as we own them. In fact, in one experiment, neuroscientists scanned participants’ brains while they allocated various objects either to a basket labeled “mine,” or another labeled, “Alex’s.” When participants subsequently looked at their new things, their brains showed more activity in a region that usually flickers into life whenever we think about ourselves.
Another reason we’re so fond of our possessions is that from a young age we believe they have a unique essence. Psychologists showed us this by using an illusion to convince three to six-year-olds they built a copying machine, a device that could create perfect replicas of any item. When offered a choice between their favorite toy or an apparently exact copy, the majority of the children favored the original. In fact, they were often horrified at the prospect of taking home a copy.
This magical thinking about objects isn’t something we grow out of. Rather it persists into adulthood while becoming ever more elaborate. For example, consider the huge value placed on items that have been owned by celebrities. It’s as if the buyers believed the objects they’d purchased were somehow imbued with the essence of their former celebrity owners. For similar reasons, many of us are reluctant to part with family heirlooms which help us feel connected to lost loved ones. But, sometimes our attachment to our things can go too far. Part of the cause of hoarding disorder is an exaggerated sense of responsibility and protectiveness toward one’s belongings. That’s why people with this condition find it so difficult to throw anything away.
Perhaps there will always be something uniquely satisfying about holding an object in our hands and calling it our own.
There’s no such thing as what you ‘should’ be doing with your life. If you’re not holding yourself back from something you really want to try, and you enjoy the way you spend your day, then you’re a smashing success.
All we think about in the cycle of violence is men. If we miss the oestrogen factor we cannot solve the cycle of violence. We cannot bring peace to the world unless we hold women accountable and morally responsible, particularly for their attacks upon children.
Summary: Dad!Crowley & Daughter!Reader - Crowley comes home to find his daughter playing hide and seek.
Word Count: 1877
Triggers: None, just father/daughter fluff
Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/E/C = Your eye colour ¦ Y/H/C = Your hair colour
Note: So, as promised, a little fluff after yesterday’s angst in Phone Call. This was fun to write so might do more little one shots featuring this duo!
Crowley had been called a lot of
things through his well over 300 years alive, or well… Somewhat alive. Demon,
sure constantly. Bastard, pretty much his middle name. Vindictive, who wasn’t?
Son of a bitch, well, they’d clearly met his mother. King of Hell, soulless,
heartless, crazy… Hell the list went on and on… But father, that was not a
title he’d ever thought he’d hold again.
never suited Crowley. Therapists would likely say it was his own issues with
his wench of a mother, or possibly his lack of a father figure or some similar
obnoxious bullshit. He himself however just believed there wasn’t room for
children in his existence, more now than back then. Emotions were chains and
children were an extra weight on those chains made to slow you down on your
rise to greatness. And he wanted to be great. Roman emperor level great, except of course
without the backstabbing, iron poisoning and inevitable loss of power.
all the stupid souvenir t-shirts said… He’d been there, done that, and completely
screwed up his first child. His philosophy was simple, really. Child-rearing
wasn’t one of those get back up on that horse kind of moments. If you failed
the first time around you shouldn’t try again.
Juliet, his favourite trusted hellhound, brought a crying infant back with her
after reaping the ripe soul of a dealtaker, Crowley was clearly… Well, in a
bind was putting it mildly. The hellhound was somewhat smitten with the baby
girl. Taking a protective stance in front of the child if anyone but Crowley
tried to come near and curling up around her to calm her hiccuping sobs.