come to the asylum

Lincoln and Trump

1860 Political Cartoon Showing Lincoln “ridden on a rail” into the Lunatic Asylum

by Saṃsāran  

Lincoln comes in at number one as the greatest president we ever had on most lists of presidential greats. We must remember that most of Washington and the world for that matter thought that Lincoln was a well-meaning dolt who did not belong in the White House. When Lincoln was first elected the London Times called him “the original gorilla”. He was not formerly educated, nor was he a polished gentleman. He was tall and gangly, wore ill-fitting suits and spoke with a high pitched western drawl. Every member of his cabinet was certain that they were more qualified for the presidency. Lincoln was an amazing speaker who, like Trump, had a way of reaching the common voter. 

Lincoln also used executive orders. He suspended the right of habeas corpus meaning that anybody could be thrown in jail indefinitely without redress, something profoundly unconstitutional, and then threatened to jail the entire U.S. Supreme Court. He also used his executive powers to free the slaves in the Confederacy. People called him a dictator and said that he wanted to be the first King of America. 

Yet, Lincoln differed from Trump in one major respect. He was humble and willing to accept personal slights from his ministers and his cabinet. Once after being snubbed by General McClellan Lincoln said to an aide “If he will win battles I will hold his horse.”. Trump has no such qualities. 

Also Lincoln was a quick study and a prodigious worker. He taught himself the law and he taught himself how to wage war by taking books out from the Library of Congress. By the time of his death even the snobby London Times hailed him as a great man who would live forever in the halls of history,

I’m afraid that The Joker might be right about me. Sometimes I…question the rationality of my actions. And I’m afraid that when I walk through those asylum gates…when I walk into Arkham and the doors close behind me…it’ll be just like coming home.
—  Batman, Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

The day you become aware of your idiocy, the day you are aware that you are an idiot, your idiocy will start dissolving, because that awareness will bring you out of it. Idiocy is unconsciousness; it will start dissolving with awareness.

Psychologists say that a madman will become alright if he realizes that he is mad. A mad person never knows that he is mad, he thinks that the world is mad.

Kahlil Gibran has written that one of his friends became mad, so he went to visit him in the mental asylum. The friend was sitting on a bench in the garden of that asylum. Gibran sat down near him and said, “I am very sorry to see you here.”

The friend looked carefully at Gibran and said, “Sorry for what?”

Gibran replied, “To see that you had to come to this mental asylum.”

That mad friend started laughing and said, “You are mistaken. Since I have come here I have found the company of sane people. Outside all of them are insane; I am fortunate to get rid of them. You think this is the mental asylum? No, the mental asylum is outside these walls. Only a very few wise people live here.”

An insane person cannot understand that he is insane. If he had that much understanding he would not have gone insane. If he understands that he is insane, then insanity will disappear.

If at night in your sleep you realize that you are dreaming, then the dreaming will stop. To dream it is necessary that you do not remember that you are dreaming. In the morning you will remember it when the dream is over. As long as you are dreaming it will seem real to you. But if right in the middle of the dream you remember that this is a dream, it will be over.

Gurdjieff used to tell his disciples that before breaking big dreams they should learn how to break small dreams. This big world is an illusion, a big dream; you cannot break it till you break the small dreams. How can you stop the day-dream when you cannot stop the night-dream? So Gurdjieff used to tell his disciples that while going to sleep at night they must go on reminding themselves that whenever they start dreaming, at once they must remember that this is a dream. It takes about three years to break the night dreaming. For three years continuously, every night while going to sleep, if you go on thinking, contemplating, meditating on this thought then that moment comes - that fortunate moment - when suddenly you remember that this is a dream. And this remembrance breaks the dream and consciousness even enters the sleep. From that moment dreaming stops.

Then there is no more dreaming.

Only after this you can wake up in the big dream - this dream of the open eyes is the big dream.

The night dreaming is personal, private - alone. It is absolutely private. A husband cannot call even his wife into his dream. Even a friend cannot call a friend into his dream. This dreaming is alone; nobody else can participate in this dream.

But this big dream is collective, public. It is very difficult to break it because it is not only yours, it is everybody’s, collective and joint. But if the first dream breaks, then that remembrance can break this dream also. That remembrance is enough. Even while awake one should be able to remember that this is a dream. Just think, if somebody has cursed you or called you names and you remember that this is a dream, then it will be impossible for you to lose your temper. If anything valuable of yours breaks and you remember that this is only a dream, you will not be unhappy. If your wife or husband or son dies, then it will be difficult to remember that this is all a dream, but if you can do so then your agony will disappear.

The person who has realized that this is a dream becomes a buddha, a jinna; neither death nor life is able to waver him. Happiness, then, does not seem like happiness to him and unhappiness does not seem unhappiness. This is the ultimate wisdom: neither happiness nor agony affects you!

—  Osho
Imagine: Being locked away in a secret asylum, waiting patiently for Mister J to come take you back

It had been weeks since I had seen the light of day. They thought that throwing me into some hole will help me realize that rolling through the streets of Gotham with the Joker was a bad idea for everyone involved. Little did they know I was just counting down the days until they let me out of this shithole.


I had only been here for a little over a month and I had gotten beaten and verbally abused. I tried to play nice with them and the doctors tried to get through to me but when I refused to take the medicine they prescribed to me (for reasons that linked back to my childhood), they began to get physical. Every night they would strap me down to a gurney and inject me with whatever they damn well pleased. And nobody gave it a second glance because I was the Joker’s girl. I was the Princess of Gotham City. I was always right there behind him whenever any mischief went down. And once they realized this and realized that I had no intentions of changing who I was and who I loved, they didn’t give a fuck if they were helping me. One less piece of shit that walked the streets tormenting innocent civilians.


I knew I would be able to leave this shitty place soon. This wasn’t Arkham Asylum, it was some rundown top secret place on the other side of town. And once Mister J found out where I was, he bribed (or threatened, I didn’t care which) one of the guards to deliver messages to me. The guard was a spineless jellyfish that quivered at the sound of Mister J’s name. He was terrified of Mister J. And he was always exceptionally nice to me for this very reason; because he knew that when I got out, and I was getting out, that the Joker would wreck the hallways and paint the walls of this facility with the blood of anyone who treated me badly.


I picked up his most recent note and reread it using the moonlight.


“I’m coming for you soon. Be ready”


I smiled to myself and held the note close to me. It was only a matter of time until I got to breath fresh air and sleep next to the man that held my heart. Since Harley had gotten taken away, I was all he had. He didn’t mind however, being that he felt something for me. He didn’t know what, he just knew he couldn’t live without me.


I curled up on the dirty mattress and closed my eyes, patiently waiting for the day he swoops in and steals me back. He was coming for me very soon, and the doctors and the nurses at this facility had a rude awakening. A storm was about to rage through and they had no idea.


(Hi yes hello so sorry it took so long but I finally wrote something and I’m going to be working on the requests very very soon I promise!)

(It actually felt really nice to write something again so I hope you all enjoy it ❤️)

(Sorry if it’s a little messy but I am a tad bit rusty 😅)

Come to daddy Joker x Reader

As said in my previous post it love the joker from suicide squad so of course I had to write a fanfic ;3 hope you enjoy.

Pairing : (Jared Leto) Joker x Reader

Warning : guns and a little something in the beginning

Plot : the Reader and Joker are inseparable and when Batman takes the Reader to an asylum Joker rescues her .


Come to daddy.

You were laying on a king sized bed bask down . He was on top of you biting and kissing your neck roughly. A moan escaped your lips that only made his smirk widen . “Tell me what you want baby ~ scream for me ” the green haired man purred as his cold hands wend up your shirt and over your hot skin. Another moan escapes your lips but before you can say anything you opened your eyes to see a white ceiling.

God why .

How did this happen to you.

You were craving his touch. You needed it . You wanted it . You wanted him .

2 months.

Two months since it happened.

Since you were taken away from your king of laughter.

That stupid Batman though you were kidnapped and were held captive. Truth was . You were never kidnapped.


It happened about a year after the “ suicide squad ” thing . You were just walking home from work with Chinese take out in one hand .

It was a hard day. You never liked how live was . Sure it was fun at some point, but mostly dull and boring. You wanted something exciting.

That’s when you saw there was a loud explosion near you . You wanted to see what’s up . You wanted excitement so here it was .

You carefully walked to a jewellery shop that was now being robbed. You walked a little closer, curiosity taking over you .

And you were not as carefull as you thought as you heard a click of a gun behind your head . “Now there there little girl, don’t move and you don’t get hurt. HEY BOSS ! we have some visitors ” he said before a man stepped out of the store’s now broken window. He was at least a head taller that you .

He had pale white skin and pale blue eyes . His bright green hair and red lip added to his slightly avant garde look . A smirk was on his face that also revealed silver teeth . He hand multiple tattoos too . He was wearing a black tux with a white shirt that had the 2 top buttons lose , exposing his chest .

“Well well well ~ look who we have here ?~ ” he said with that same insane smirk . “And why is a little girl out so late ? Don’t you know that bad people are out at night ” he said now pointing his own gun at you right between the eyes . “ Aren’t you scared ?” He asked with a chuckle .

“No ” you say surprisingly calm . “Really now , and what if I shoot you right now? ~” “don’t really care , life is too boring and dull anyway ” you say .

It was true . You wanted more . You didn’t want to be a copy of someone who just sleeps , eats and works .

“Is that so ? ” he asked, his smirk widen. “And how about coming with me ? I could use an extra pair of hands ~” he said lowering his gun .

You thought for a moment. You knew who he was . The King of laughter himself, Joker . He was feared and wanted . A murderous psychopath. He did things whenever he wanted and where ever he wanted and however he wanted . And he was asking you to join him …

“ What are we waiting for?”

His smirk widen again with a laugh as he led you to the car .

And that’s how you met the Joker.

After that night you were inseparable. Where ever he went you were right by his side . No matter how dangerous. You became his most prised possession. His favorite toy . His doll . As time went on you found your self falling for the insane man .

He gave you what you wanted and you loved every minute of it. He made life colourful, like you always wanted. It was never bearing or dull anymore. And you loved it as much as he did . He treated you like his queen and soon enough he also had a thing for you . And that’s how you came to be .

You and J ruled over the city with not a single care in the world. You were just as crazy as him at times and he found it absolutely amazing and sexy .

But of course all fun ends at some point.

Batman crashed your amazing party at J’s club. In the end you let J escape and you got caught and put in to an asylum.

“It’s way better for you this way ” bats said .

As if .

It was hell in purest form .

You hated it . Things beceme dull again. And not having him around just made it worse .

You let out a sight and got of of the cold floor of you cell . Got it was cold. And dark .

You missed your king . You wanted to go back home . But you knew it was just a matter of time. Sighing once again you sat in one of the corners of your cell . This will take a while .

You fell asleep soon enough but woke up to …. wait …. gun shots ? Could it be … and at that moment the door to your cell was knocked out. You stood you and smiled . In the doorway stood the Joker with arms spread out to you . “Hey there sweetheart ~ come to daddy ” he purred with a smirk.

You ran to him hugging him tightly. He picked you up and started walking. “Don’t worry darling ~ in about an hour I will make up for your time apart ~” he whispered in your ear .

Oh how much you loved this crazy man .

anonymous asked:

Jerome Valeska prompt please? "Come over here and make me"

Originally posted by capshark

Arkham Asylum was filled with the kinds of people you don’t want to mess with. Every person in here had done things far worse than anyone could imagine. You sat, trying to read the two day old newspaper, and tried to block out the sound of the inmates. A few were arguing, two were physically fighting, most were just sitting with occasional chat and one was whistling.

Jerome Valeska. That was his name. The whistler; the red head; the one always cracking the jokes - he was a bit of a joker. He knew how much his whistling annoyed you and he loved to see you angry. You’d tried your best to ignore it but after hearing that same stupid song four times, you couldn’t.

“Valeska!” You hissed, glaring at him from over your newspaper.

He grinned, “And they speak!” He clapped his hands together, “Thought you were ignoring me there, gorgeous.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scoffed, looking down at the newspaper again, reading about the chaos that was happening outside these walls.

He began to whistle again, never faltering and never taking his eyes off of you. You clenched your jaw, trying not to let him win but he’d already won, “Shut up!” You yelled.

Jerome grinned, “Come over here and make me.” He was smirking at you, watching you with a dangerous spark in his eye, wanting to know what your next move would be.

You folded up your newspaper, watching him with a smirk, before standing up and walking over to him, “Is that why you whistle?” You asked him as you stalked over, “You want my attention?”

He gave a shrug, “What can I say, doll, I like you. Now, why don’t you shut me up?” You stood in front of him now, smiling down at him. He began to whistle again, waiting for you to kiss him or something, and you were going to give him something. You leaned down with a flirtatious smile while raising your hand which held the newspaper before smacking the back of his head with it, as hard as you could manage.

His whistling stopped abruptly and the other inmates fell silent, “There,” You smiled, “Perfect.”

You walked back to your seat and Jerome began to laugh, that maniacal cackle that he so often did, “Oh, I like you.” He murmured, “I really like you.” 

[Oh god, I’m SOBBING at the final episode of Asylum. And I’m not even halfway through. I never thought I’d cry over Jude when I first started this season and now I can’t stop sobbing. And I know that more heartbreak is coming.

Like fuck I’m glad I didn’t skip Asylum and gave it a shot. Some things triggered/upset me, but most of it didn’t. I LOVED Murder House. But Asylum is so much better to me. It’s just so emotional and in depth.

God, and I’ve had so many people say Coven is the best like how can anything be better than Asylum? So many interesting characters and individual stories. PERFECT character development in just 12 episodes. Especially with Sister Jude.

Sorry for this rambling I’m just in tears because Jude in the last episode is the most heartbreaking thing ever.]

Mind Palace

Sherlock x reader

Note:So this is my first insert, even more, the first thing I wrote in English that wasn’t for school, so yeah, I might sound a bit weird but hey, who cares x) I just wanted to thanks @prettyxlittlexwriter for beta-reading it, like, thank you very very very much, I seriously owe you on that one, otherwise I probably would have never posted it and it would probably be exploding with mistakes, thanks :D If anyone wants some more, I could try, just ask me, I’ll see what I can do :)

Enjoy!

“Get out. I need to go to my mind palace.”

And here he was again, kicking everyone out because of his damn mind palace. He even did it in the winter. He once expelled everyone out because they were ‘’too noisy’’. John and Mrs Hudson actually had to come down and ask me to give them asylum for the next hour or so… And I thought of moving into the third floor flat… second thoughts, good thing I stayed in the basement.

“Y/N?” asked John.

Lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t moved an inch. John was leaving the lab with Dr. Stapleton, explaining to her what was actually going on and why she was being kicked out of her own lab that she had so kindly lend us for our investigation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for him.” I was the only one silent enough to stay when he did this. It wasn’t the first time I saw him doing it, but it still was something fascinating to witness. Standing there, his eyes still opened, blind to the world, seeing things no one else could, even going as far as moving them around his head.

If anyone walked in at this very moment, they would have seen him as a mad man (which he probably was after all…), but his every movement still seemed to have a certain precision and… grace. To me, it always appeared as if he led an orchestra. His head turning left and right, hand shifting invisible things through the air. I was hypnotized by his every moves.

Careful not to distract him, I slowly moved around the table, getting behind him and squinting, trying to figure out what he was thinking about. ‘’Liberty In’’… It had to be related to that phrase, we were just talking about it right before he kicked everyone out.

Playing the game, I started digging though all I could find related to the words Liberty In, making a list in a corner of my head.

Liberty… Freedom to do what you want or to go where you want? Liberty => Freedom? Statue of Liberty? 

In… Expresses the situation of something that is or appear to be enclosed or surrounded by something else? Expresses inclusion or involvement? Inn? Inside? India? Indiana? Indonesia?

What if it was a place? The name of a company, a store, a market or a restaurant maybe? But which country would… Oh!

At this very moment, the answer hit me. Of course it was a place!

“Liberty In-” Sherlock murmured.

“-Indiana. H-O-U-N-D, it’s an abbreviation…” I cried excitedly.
“… for a scientific project!” he finished. I smiled.
“Holmes, you are a bloody genius!”

Note (again): So yeah, that was it,thanks for reading, I hope you liked it ^_^

Obsessive Love- Jerome Valeska (Pt.2/3)

Y/N P.O.V.
It’s been two years since I last saw Jerome.

When he made me take the blame for his mother’s murder.

When he promised to visit me everyday and show his gratitude and love towards me.

I was transferred a year later my arrest from the prison to Arkham Asylum, but not for the murder. It was because I had gone insane while waiting for Jerome to come back. I became more frustrated and his betrayal made me become more mad until I had snapped.

Literally.

I snapped three people’s heads until I was handcuffed and put into a mental asylum. But with rain comes a rainbow. I had found a friend that respected me and was honest with me, the two things I didn’t get from Jerome. Barbara Keen was my new best friend. And my only friend, as I hadn’t gone out of my cell ever since I was locked up in it. Barbara brought me food and for that I was barely grateful. According to Barbara, there was a guy in this asylum that she thought was perfect for me. Apparently he tried to get with her, but she obviously refused, as she still loved James Gordon. Obviously I laughed it off. Why? Because a part of me was still in love with Jerome.

But a year was enough to fall out of love with Jerome. Today I was going to go out of my cell and meet this so called perfect match and see if he was really what Barbara talked him up to be. Also, there was going to be a new guy coming in, so I wouldn’t draw much attention to myself, which I wanted. You wouldn’t expect that, because I had come from the circus, but I had changed a lot.

I took a deep breath before taking a step out my cell and making my way to the cafeteria with Barbara. She confidentially stepped in the room, while I followed behind. I looked at the ground and also at Barbara’s feet as I followed her to the guy she was going to introduce me to. I could hear the new guy talking about how he was going to take over Gotham while the others laughed, but I was too anxious to look up. So I followed Barbara until she stopped.

Looking up, I saw a big, bald ugly guy with dribble coming out of his mouth. I gagged inside while glaring at Barbara. She was such a bitch, doubling over in laughter at my utter disappointment. She ditched me for a group of thugs and I rolled my eyes. Of course she would do that. I turned around and went to go back to my lovely cell, when I full on bumped my head with a guy.

“J-Jerome?” I managed to stutter out in confusion.

Jerome looked at me, shocked, horrified and… remorseful? He went to say something, but was interrupted by a bomb of smoke? Gas? I don’t know what it was, but it made me sleepy and I found myself, as well as the other inmates, dropping to the floor.


A/N Please send me feedback! It would be highly appreciated and that way I can improve my writing skills so I write more of Jerome Valeska and much more;) AND ALSO OMG I’m so sorry this is so short I promise the final one will be much longer!

Broken Handprints

Nobody asked for this and it’s probably literary shit, but I saw this headcanon by @traumatlzed and came up with this angstiness. 


Zuko didn’t know what would come of it, bringing his mother to the secreted asylum, but Ursa had been adamant in her stance to visit.

‘I’ve been gone eleven years,’ she’d said. ‘My daughter was only eight when I kissed her goodbye.’

He’d refused at first, knowing Azula’s fragile progress hung in the balance. The deranged princess hadn’t come far since the psychotic spiral following their Agni Kai, but her dreams had finally stopped haunting her with memories of their long-missed mother.

‘She doesn’t love me. She never loved me. She can’t love me.’ Golden eyes always darted around the room with those words, before settling on his form that wavered in the flickering lantern light. ‘Even you, The Banished Prince, even you think I’m a failure.’

Truth be told, their father had been the failure— though no amount of repeated promises could convince his sister of that. Ursa, however, believed she could get through, that she could help the girl make sense of the jumbled feelings of guilt and love and fear.

“Just be careful,” he warned as he led his mother towards Azula’s room. His steps felt heavy, weighed by worry for both his sister and Ursa. “She doesn’t like a lot of questions… or sudden movements… I think they remind her of our fight. Just be careful, okay?”

A hand on his shoulder stopped their progress, and kind eyes found his. “Zuko, you don’t need to worry so much.”

“Katara says the same thing,” he chuckled darkly, before explaining. “She comes twice a week, between shifts at the downtown hospital, to heal Azula.”

“Heal? How?”

“Waterbending; there was this guy in Ba Sing Se that she helped. Katara’s trying to replicate it on Azula, but I worry this isn’t the same.”

His mother questioned, “Why not?”

“Azula’s not brainwashed, she’s just— broken.”

Usra fell quiet at that, her padded footfalls the only indication that she still shadowed Zuko through the white corridors of the mental hospital. He said nothing more as they walked, leaving her alone to her thoughts and him with his own.

It wasn’t the same. It wouldn’t work, no matter how much hope Katara held. Whatever Ursa had planned was sure to be a failure, too. Azula wasn’t brainwashed. She faced emotional abuse and torment under Ozai. It was ingrained in her. It was her character, now. It wasn’t some hat trick with lights and monotone words and it certainly couldn’t be undone in a matter of hours, or even months.

Four years later and not much had changed— the palace held a little more blue, a maternal presence returned, and Azula was still crazy. Zuko feared this would only make her worse, a visit from the woman Azula swore to hate.

Zuko halted outside a smooth metal door, nodding a dismissal at attending nurses.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to Usra.

“I am.”


“I’m sorry.”

The words were uttered for the thousandth time, still Azula had yet to blink. She’d been steadily quiet, unwavering and frozen. Not a sigh… not a snarl… nothing came from her but even breaths.

Ursa filled in the silence, swiping trembling fingertips over damp cheeks as she rambled:

“My biggest regret is not taking you with me.” Tearful lashes flicked to Zuko, then back to the crumbled princess. “I should’ve taken you both. The truth is, I believed your father. He promised no harm would come to either of you, but I can’t blame him for my mistakes, can I?”

“You can blame him for a lot of things,” Zuko muttered dryly.

“Abandoning you, though… that was my choice.” Ursa leaned forward, imploring for her daughter’s response, but coming up empty. She settled for placing her fingers over Azula’s, both pale hands now resting in the princess’s lap. “I left you, darling. I left you, and your father hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Ursa looked away, her eyes brimming over with a silent sob that shook her shoulders. Zuko moved to place a hand on her back, but a bitter sneer stalled the room.

“Sorry means nothing by itself.”

The coldest of gold eyes followed the former Fire Lady’s every move, glinting with lantern light and unreadable thoughts.

“Isn’t that what you always said, Mother?”

“I— I did, when you were little.”

The princess smirked, then twisted her hand so it pinned Ursa’s to the white hospital gown. She glared at their joined fingers before snickering at the startled woman. “Is that why you’re here, to spew out excuses as to why you’re sorry?”

“No!” Ursa yanked her hand away, appearing angered and frightened in the same breath.

It was too much. Zuko reached for her. “Mom— We- we can go—”

She shook her head, her movements softening with the memory of the situation’s delicacy. Ursa’s shoulders relaxed with a slow breath. “Azula, no. I’m here to tell you that I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

“Hah! There’s no need for lies, Mother. You’ve always treated me like a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, darling. You were pushed too far and too hard. Instead of control, you taught about power and fear. You only replicated what you saw.” Ursa’s words rushed out, her spirits emboldened by the break in Azula’s stony facade. “And I know I didn’t always show you warmth. I was harsh with you and downright cruel, sometimes, but Azula—”

Ursa tugged her sleeve upward, revealing a light pink stain on her forearm— “I do love you.”

The princess’s gaze washed over Ursa’s marred skin. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It’s a scar, and I have a dozen more like it,” she explained, tracing the smeared lines of a young child’s handprint. “When you and Zuko were little, you’d come running in the middle of the night. You were so afraid and worked up, your tiny hands would be so hot, they’d burn.”

“We did this to you?”

There was something in Azula’s gaze that Zuko couldn’t name. He didn’t want to call it happiness, or even relief, but it was so similar to the wide open stares of war orphans. The way they looked at him when he visited children’s homes, the way they clung to his draped robes— he saw that same hunger in his sister’s eyes.

Ursa nodded with a smile, “When you were upset or scared or simply throwing a tantrum. It’s one of the dangers of raising such exceptional firebenders.”

“Exceptional?” The melancholy longing was gone, replaced by a familiar ferocity. “I was exceptional.”

“Mom.” Zuko rushed to Ursa, grabbing her by the wrist as Azula’s temper swelled.

I was going to be Fire Lord! It was supposed to be me! Little Zuzu— fucking Zuzu— ruined it for me! It was me!

Nurses rushed in, holding vials and needles, followed by chi blockers with their fists clenched.

He tugged Ursa harder. She didn’t need to see this. “Mom, let’s go.”

They crashed into the hallway; Usra, a resistant mess of tears and tremors, and Zuko, a resigned picture of defeat. Her fingers dug into his sleeves, panting breaths forced passed gritted teeth.

“Zuko, I- I— don’t understand. She’s—”

He shook his head, wrapping his mother in a weary hug. “She’s broken, I know.”

Boundaries

Originally posted by myloveseokjin


I will have another part to asylum done by this coming Wednesday hopefully!! I’M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT I HIT A SLUMP!!! Hopefully this makes up for it :( I’m starting a new story along with asylum, this story just randomly popped in my head yesterday and I have read other stories similar to this! I hope you will enjoy, and feedback is always welcomed ❤️

Genre- high school au, fluff (smut in other parts)

Word count- 2161

Pairing- Jung Hoseok x Reader

You hear your alarm blaring through your phone speakers, you huff, rolling over to inspect how much time left you have to be lazy but not look like trash for school.

Keep reading

maybe instead of so desperately trying to find “safe places” to resettle asylum seekers who come to australia, turnbull and co. should question why they’re so determined to make australia an unsafe place for people fleeing persecution.

Harley Quinn is not a role model, BUT...

Shes still a bisexual, jewish blonde woman who came from a troubled family and became a psychiatrist in ARKHAM ASYLUM.

Despise coming from an extremely abusive relationship, she still managed to have friends, functioning mental health and a healthy relationship with a woman.

Shes still someone who tried MANY times in the past to redeem. She failed, but she tried.

Shes still an abused woman who got her revenge against her abuser and managed to build a life without him with her own name as a Batman villain.

Shes still one of the only villains who almost killed Batman, despise being written as just a sidekick at the time.

Shes still a villain who has morals and soft spot for children, animals and her friends.

After being in Arkham, after the abuse, after all the times she almost died, after all the pain and all the times she tried to have a better life but it never happened, after dealing with mental health problems, even after getting pregnant in other universe, shes still, somehow, looking at the world with so much happiness and optimism.

And i want that strength. Not to bomb buildings or kill people like her, but her strength. Harley Quinn is not a role model, but shes someone you can learn a lot from.

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"I Give Everyone Who Comes on Our Boat a Hug"
"I usually give everybody who comes onboard our boat, I give them a hug. And then they basically break down because no one has treated them like a human bein...

Kim Clausen is the field coordinator for the Doctors without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) search and rescue boat the Bourbon Argos, in the Mediterranean. Tens of thousands of people fleeing violence have taken the extremely risky boat trip towards Europe this year alone. Many of them never make it. Their search for safety is one of the stories we discuss in Forced From Home, a touring exhibition featuring stories from our field workers, as well as 360-degree video and virtual reality documentaries that show the realities faced by refugees, asylum-seekers, and other displaced people around the world.

Find out more at: http://www.forcedfromhome.com