without-a-safety-net

Friends.
With fingers searching
the places that past lovers
bled dry with their touch.

Friends.
Wanting to be wanted
but not wanting to want.
Trying to shake the ghosts
that still linger and haunt.

Friends.
Talking every day,
understanding the deepest parts
of one another, without offering
to be a safety net. 

I cannot decide if all of this makes us
more than or less than
friends.

—  // Where is the benefit? // S.K.K. // May 24, 2016 //
This Isn’t Love

MASTERLIST

Word count: 1,911

A/N: Not requested, but felt like writing this.

This Isn’t Love

I locked myself into the apartment after a long day at the studio. I was worn out and extremely tired, so all I really needed was a good sleep.  

“Hey baby” I called out, stepping through the door.

“Hey Shawn” y/n mumbled back at me.

I walked in and found her sitting on the couch, in a rather dark lightning, just starring out in the room.

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Parking Ticket - Dick Grayson x Reader

Prompt: Soulmate au with Dick where when you touch your soulmate for the first time you see their most vivid memory and one day you trip while passing officer Grayson in the street and he catches you but you see his parents death???

You’re having a shit day, the kind of day where the entire world seemed out to get you. Yeah, it was that kind of day.

It all started when you woke up and realized that your phone charger died in the middle of the night, taking your phone down with it. You woke up an hour late for work and found yourself hurrying to get your ass out of bed and on your way. The universe decided to fuck you over again when a construction crew had closed the street that had the parking lot that you were allowed to park on and was rerouting all traffic. At that point you decided fuck it, you’ll just park in a two hour parking space and move it during your lunch break, hoping to god that you didn’t get a parking ticket.

The next bit of fuck-youness the world threw your way was the wrath of your asshat boss. He laid it into you for being late and loaded your plate with a fuckton of work as punishment. Your day at work was one of the worst in your memory and it was only half over. You went on your lunch break as soon as possible and left the building to move your car to a more legal spot.

Just to fucking spite you, you got to your car just as an officer was writing you a parking ticket.

“Oh my god! Please! I was just about to move it!” You cried as you ran towards him. You hoped that this man showed you pity but you doubted it, judging by how your day had gone thus far. The officer glanced back at you and dear lord was he handsome, so there’s that at the very least.

“I’m sorry ma’am but this is a two hour parking zone. I have to write you a ticket.” He explained calmly.

“Please …” You pleaded looking down at his name tag, “Officer Grayson. I’ve had the shittiest day you could possibly imagine and it’s not even done yet. Can I get a little bit of sympathy here?” You asked reaching out to still the hand he was using to write your ticket. Instead of seeing his look of sympathy or at worst annoyance you were thrust back into a memory that wasn’t your own.

You were at some sort of circus, you think. You stood high above on the trapeze platform as the crowd cheered loudly from down below.

“Ladies and Gentlemen it is my honor to present to your for your delight and delectation … the FLYING GRAYSONS!” The ringmaster announced from below. Suddenly the spotlight shifted over to the young couple standing at the edge of the platform in front of you. They smiled brightly and waved at the audience before the man took hold of the trapeze bar and began their routine. Soon enough the man’s wife joined him in the air, gracefully flying between the swing of the bars, as if they were born to be in the air.  A small dark haired boy sat cross legged on the platform, happily cheering on his parents but clearly desiring to be up in the air with them. Maybe one day …

Everything seemed to be going flawlessly until you caught sight of the taut line wobbling mid swing. Your eyes focused in on the fraying line but you were powerless to stop what happened next. The line broke and the young couple started falling without a safety net to catch them.

NO!” The young boy screamed reaching helplessly out to his parents but it was too late.

The scene faded away and you were thrust back into reality with the handsome officer staring at you wide eyed. You pulled you hand away from him and wiped the stray tear from your eye.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized, not really knowing what to say. He had been that boy from that memory, and if you were seeing his memories that would mean … well that would mean that your day wasn’t complete shit after all. This poor man who had seen too much in his life is your soul mate

“It’s alright.” He dismissed. “You know what? Forget this.” He said crumpling up your parking ticket and offered you a smile. “Would you like to go out sometime?” He asked. You nodded and took the crumpled ticket from his hand along with his pen.

“I’d love that. I have to get back to work now but here’s my number.” You said scribbling down your phone number on the paper and slipping into his pocket. You were just about to turn around and head back towards your work when he called out to you

“Hey wait! You may be my soul mate but you still can’t park here!”

anonymous asked:

Non-jackass answer. Why do you think they're just friends?

Non- Jackass? Fine.

Time. Location. Disparity in life experience.

Time: I’ve said this so much I’m tired of hearing myself say it. Outlander. MPC. Maintenance of personal fitness status. Need for solitude. Where is this spare time to keep up with a relationship 8 time zones away? Relationships require a certain level of attention and I can’t see where he has the time or emotional energy to spare, especially for one so obviously high maintenance when it comes to attention.

Location: Scotland. Los Angeles. 8 time zones. 5000 miles. FaceTime and Skype can only do so much.

Disparity in life experience: One grew up in a spotlight being told she was special. Other people clearing a path for her,leading her to where she is today, has fostered a sense of entitlement. She has a great deal of pride and isn’t willing to work hard when she knows there is an easy soft way. She didn’t have to struggle or suffer consequences getting to where she is as an adult. The other grew up a loner in a broken home with very little means. He has struggled and toiled clearing his own path in life fostering a sense of humility. He worked hard on his own without a safety net to be where he is today. He leads a life of gratitude and generosity. He’s a giver. She’s a taker.

On The Edge

Summary: While Sam and Dean try to beat Lucifer to Cas and Kelly, you’re left behind with Crowley who isn’t acting like himself. 

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Word count: 6975 (Honest to Chuck, I was shooting for 3k)

Warnings/Tags: Season 12 Spoilers (if you haven’t watched the finale you can technically still read this and come out with the general gist, but you’ll definitely be missing out on some things), smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), foreplay, ummm, filth? (Jesus, how did Crowley come out with tamer tags than Gabe?) a little bit of everything as far as feels go (fluff, angst, humor)

Written for my 100/200 follower celebration  

Requested by: @devilsnevercry1388
Quote: “This must be what going mad feels like.”
Kink:  Surprise Sex

Author’s Note:  The poetry Crowley uses is from Part II of Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  They are my absolute favorite lines from that entire piece and just jumped into my head as I was writing this.  

Special thanks to: To my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62, aka my Jedi Master wise in ways of the force and the comma.  You don’t just catch my mistakes, you help me bring to life what I’m trying to convey and I am grateful you know what my wordy ass is trying to say ;)   I also want to thank the lovely @blondecoffeecake for keeping my muse fed and helping me take a direction in this story when I got stuck.  Oh, and extra thanks for the future crack fic.  Probably coming around Christmas.  

Tagging everyone at the end 

The world sits on the edge of a precipice, the Winchesters scrambling to keep it from toppling over.  You, on the other hand, sit back at the bunker, arguing with a rather pissed off Crowley who does not like having his hand attached to the furniture.  Not that you blame him.  You’d be a little miffed if your friends got a little stabby as well.  

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell Dean not to leave you with the king of Hell.  You might as well be telling him that one day Sam will die.  It skitters across his radar before he deftly bats it far out into the stratosphere where reminders of his own mortality have taken up residence.  For the most part, you’ve been able to avoid any close, direct contact, but everyone’s luck has to run out sometime.   

You just hope yours is the only one that does today.    

The problem isn’t that you don’t like Crowley or you think he’s a danger.  It’s that you don’t know how you feel about him.  The last few years have been especially confusing, the boundaries blurring between ally and enemy, and he’s taken to walking that fine line of cooperation until it benefits him to step off again.  The uncertainty puts you in dangerous territory, walking something equally as thin and fragile and you don’t know anyone in their right mind who would want to star in a tightrope act without having a safety net in place. 

Yet, out the door your friends run, though you can’t be mad at them.  Not only are they trying to stop the devil and save the world, but leaving you behind is their way of protecting you.  Leaving Crowley, however, is the one thing they are doing to cover their own hides, and you can’t blame them after the secrets the demon has kept.   

Though it does leave you with a royal pain in the ass.    

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Meet some of the residents of Victorian Slum House, who spent 3 months living in a 1860s tenement in the heart of London to experience life without a safety net, living and working as their ancestors did.

The Potters have roots in the East London neighborhood of Bethnal Green. Grandmother Heather Sr.’s great-grandfather James Windsor lived next to the Old Nichol —Victorian Britain’s most notorious slum— and became an advocate for socialism who regularly spoke at London’s Speaker’s Corner. His younger brother Walter Windsor became a local Member of Parliament in 1923.

Shazeda Haque is a single mother raising her children Shazeda and Saudii. Shazeda says it’s hard raising two children alone in the 21st century, and she can’t comprehend how it must have been like for women in the Victorian era. 

Andy Gardiner will be the house’s rent collector. After an accident in 2004, he had his leg amputated and is open about how difficult this was. He wants to experience what life was like in the Victorian era for people with disabilities, whose stories he feels are underrepresented. 

Get to know all the residents of Victorian Slum House when the show premieres Tuesday May 2 at 8/7c on PBS.

Learn more about the show

I want to say fuck off to palatability, to being an easily swallowed-digested-shat crip, fit for your consumption -
I want to stop being consumed by you and your abled gaze -
I want to stop needing your abled consumption. 

You give me these fucking respectability politics like I want them, “if your kind all looked like you, it wouldn’t be so bad to see you in public” - 

My kind.
Crips with middle fingers raised high to your pity sigh. Crips sneering through your nosy little side stares. Crips failing your tests over and over and over - we’ll never pass, we need to pass, fuck passing, we’ll never pass.
My fucking kind.
Crips sucking dicks in hotel rooms. Crips working corners downtown where you won’t walk at night. Crips selling services you give for free - but… not to us. Not to my kind. 

Your kind…
you want to fuck us but you don’t want to want it but you really want it. Bodies like this aren’t for fucking, why do you want to fuck bodies like this so bad? Why do you want to fuck bodies like this so bad? Fuck bodies like this. Fuck bodies. 

My kind.
Crips who give too many fucks but want to give none, want to give nothing to you, want to say fuck you and fuck it - crips who fuck to survive and will tell you ten times an hour cuz word of mouth brings the customers. Crips without a safety net beyond the netting of our stockings and damn is it
unstable at best
and an expectation-invitation-explanation of violence at worst. 

Fuck
your kind,
pining to fuck
my kind
over til we fit in your mouth, tucked in your cheek for the times you want to pat yourself on the back,
or want us to pat your backside - when no one’s around, of course. 

Maybe if there was less of your kind out in public sounding like you - tongue in cheek, “didn’t mean it like that” -
there were laws before, around my kind going outside -
ugly laws, unpalatable crip bodies unfit for your consumption so your kind buried them,
but now us undead descendants don’t want your consumption anyway,
we’re done with it,
with you. 

The imagination really is most alive when it is not in control of things; flying through the air without a safety net below to catch it. To live surrounded by wonder means the unknown and the dangerous also surround you as well
—  JONATHAN CARROLL
BBRae Week: Day 4

Goodbyes vs Lips/Kisses

Woops, I did both. 


Raven felt strange.

Unfamiliar territory was a foreign concept to her these days thanks to growing up along with the Titans, and yet, she had never known this feeling before.

It wasn’t for lack of experience, though; she’d certainly had her fair share of relationships throughout the years, and had thus become accustomed to certain roller coaster aspects of such romances.

Yet, somehow, things with Garfield Logan were always different.  

[follow~, follow~, follow~ the cut! for more!]

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anonymous asked:

Lol even the speaking in general terms of affection/endearment is a romantic trop:P Lots of couples you know are gonna eventually get together do it, and it's for the reasons you stated; feeling are dangerous and scary. But i agree, i struggled with why Cas was being mlnd-controlled yet again (running out of ideas, writers?) but i look at it now as just part of his character arc. Loss of agency, loss of sense of self, ties into his inner struggles arc. And it will take a lot this time.

Yeah, because he’s sort of been emotionally adrift since s9. He may not have chosen to tear out his grace and become human, but it happened to him anyway. He was tossed to earth without a safety net and circumstances conspired to make it a rather horrible experience.

But then the only way he could continue to be useful (and not end up dead at the hands of angels) was to steal grace and become an angel again, that was also NOT HIS CHOICE. He did what he had to do.

But ever since then he’s been sort of coasting along, sort of unable to reconcile what he’d experienced as a human with this sort of “not quite an angel, not quite a man” situation he’s been in ever since. Even after getting his own grace back, he’s still never felt like he was 100% restored to that state he’d been in before he lost his grace.

With his grace now sort of layered atop his human feelings, I think he’s felt torn. The grace may have given him access to his “original factory settings,” his original purpose and need to serve, to have a mission. But now he’s still got that full understanding of Free Will that he hadn’t lost when he took on that grace again.

It’s been a major conflict for him. He’s felt divided, still with that impulse of loyalty to Heaven, yet the more he’s become a true part of the Winchester family the more he really wants to be there. But he doesn’t really understand how, because the grace part of him is crossing his circuits, I think.

He’s still relating to them as a guardian angel, as a protector, and not someone they feel equally protective of.

And here’s where my other anon comes in to more plainly state what I’m trying to get at here:

Castiel’s deep need for faith, purpose and a clear mission is nothing new really. He has to have a cause to believe in, something to enable him to fight and survive. For the Winchesters to become true family for him he has to let go of them as an obligation, a mission, a cause. And that scares the crap out of him because he doesn’t know how else to love them, if he doesn’t bleed what use is he? I think Cas’ biggest hurdle isn’t TO love, but letting himself BE loved and all that comes with it.

Because that’s pretty concise. :D

Church of the Poison Mind (Trixya) - Dahlia

This is going to be multiple chapters of just me crying, being emo, and typing entirely in italics. Thank you so much from the bottom of my smol bean cinnamon roll heart to all of the ANGELS who inspired me and kept me going, it literally would not have been possible without Lale, Matilda, and BromeoandJooliet!!!  Feel free to drop by my side-blog DahliasForKatya and say hello! Thank you!!! More parts coming soon

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starcrossedmelons  asked:

(1) SM has this love for not killing her characters off. I'm not saying she should kill everyone but who writes 4 books with an 'epic' showdown that ends in no main characters dying? Whose death do you think would have made an interesting twist to the story? I think Charlie's would've shaped Bella, maybe realize how precious life is, that even if she lives forever everyone can't. Maybe even Nessie's? if she died when she fully matured? It would have been bittersweet but an ending where the

Cullens& tribe are on good-ish terms w/o an imprint would’ve been interesting. I’m hesitant to say the Cullens since SM’s idea of one true love means their partner would be alone forever but what if Carlisle died. Aro, mournful despite beingthe opponent. The pack, losing the one Cullen they all seem to tolerate/respect. The Cullens of course, esp Edward and his father/son ish relationship. And Esme. I like the idea of everyone coming together for her, loving the one who’s gift it is to love


I honestly thought she was going to kill off Carlisle, because there’s that bit at the beginning where Bella is learning about the Denali story and she has some comment like “I couldn’t imagine the Cullens without Carlisle.” That seemed like a foreshadowing to me but apparently was not lol

Now he’s my fave and I wouldn’t want him to die, but in terms of narrative and theme and character, he’s the obvious choice. In any sort of coming-of-age story the mentor figure usually dies or leaves so that the younger characters came come into their own without that safety net.  Also, his death would be an interesting way to address the souls issue in that he believes they have a shot at heaven.  There could be some real meaningful discussions, or even via the various gifts (Edward, Alice, Jasper) they might get a glimpse at some sort of afterlife as he dies.  (Edward seeing “the light” through Carlisle’s eyes before his consciousness fades out, Alice seeing some vague afterlife-y future, Jasper feeling profound peace, whatever). 

Charlie and/or Renee’s deaths could have been interesting, too (I think in an early draft for the movie when it was just very loosely based on the book one or both of them died? I can’t remember now) and really, they’re going to be something Bella will deal with eventually.  Now that she’s a vampire she’s going to outlive her parents much more dramatically than children typically do, and with vampirism/immortality being so natural and normal to her, I think their deaths are really going to be tough on her. She’s going to feel like an 18/19-year-old losing her parents even if she’d really be 60 or whatever when they die. And Nessie, growing up in a world of immortals or almost-immortals (the wolves) death is going to be a harsh lesson. 

self isolating into tiny friend / support groups where everyone’s sleeping with each other which means the moment that drama occurs in the friend group it gets magnified by that friend group also being the people you depend on in some capacity because we live in a society without a social safety net and where the concept of mutual aid is only slowly being introduced is queer culture

Batmom Origin Part 2: The Ally

Prompt: Batmom Origin Part 2 requested by two anons and @tgwltw

Tagging: @doctorwhoandrory

A/N: Okay, finally finished it. Please enjoy. But before we start I have to ask: Who here present wants to punch Zucco?

Part 1





    Ellen laughed next to you and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, joining right in. The clown in front of you smiled and took a bow. Leaving you he ran off to join the other performers, the show would start soon. “If the whole show is like that I’ll defiantly come here again a few times before they leave town again.” your friend turned to you with a grin after catching herself.
    You could only agree. It had been a surprise when Ellen had invited you to go together to the Haly’s Circus, but you were glad you had said yes. The two of you had met through work and had become fast friends, in fact she was your best. And this circus was amazing. Around you was a crowd of smiling faces. Excited children laughed with their parents. Clowns passed out balloons. When you stretched your head you could see the elephants that were on the other side of the tent. This was the best time you had in a while.
    Grinning you pointed at a small stand selling candy and drinks. “Should we get something before we go inside and sit down?” you asked, which Ellen agreed with happily. Quickly you made your way over there. Ellen got a bag of popcorn with her drink, while you voted to get cotton candy with yours. Turning around you were about to walk towards the tent entrance when you nearly ran into someone.
    Bruce chuckled, stopping you at arm length to prevent an accident. “Y/n.” he smiled. “What are you doing here?”
    “Girls-Day-Out.” you said, positively surprised to see him. “And I could ask you the same.” Remembering your friend you quickly introduced her. “Bruce, this is my friend Ellen Yin. Ellen, this is Bruce Wayne.”
    The woman gave him a nod, looking curiously between him and you. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne.” she said politely. Living in Gotham she of course knew who Bruce Wayne was, everyone did. A playboy -even if he was now said to try moving away from that image- that helped a lot of charities, the owner of WayneCorp and therefore the provider of more than half of the jobs in this city. She wondered how you got to knew him. Sure Gordon and a other officer named Benett were friend with him, but she couldn’t help but wonder how you got to know this man. Then again, despite you being her partner at the force from her first day she hadn’t know that you worked with the bat till her option on him changed and she decided to side with him.
    “Pleasure’s all mine.” Bruce returned the gesture. “You’re Y/n’s new partner, aren’t you? I heard a lot.” He turned to you and gave you a half-grin. “If I would have known you were to come I would have invited you to come together.”
    “Perhaps next time.” you offered.You wouldn’t mind in any way. 
    “I will take you up to that.” he promised, his eyes lighting up a bit. It was nice to see him like this, you wanted to see that look on his face more often. He turned to the boot for a moment, ordering some popcorn and a coke, before returning his attention to you. “So you’re the cotton candy type.” he teased looking at your snack.
    “What do you mean, ‘cotton candy type’?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you go to the circus, you have to get the whole experience. Seriously, you and your popcorn.” Making sure she understood you were only making fun, you threw Ellen a quick look. She rolled her eyes at you good-humored. Bruce laughed at you.
    “Whatever you say.” he shook his head, not able to wipe that grin off his face. When you pouted, he laughed. “Really I don’t see what the big deal is.”
    “It’s less of a big deal.” you defended yourself. “But how often do we have a circus in Gotham in the first place. So if we get the chance we should use that and get the whole thing, right?” He was only grinning, picking up his popcorn. Getting an idea you pulled a piece off your cotton candy. “Okay, here.” you said, offering it to him. Bruce hesitated surprised at first, but then accepted, eating it. You smiled triumphantly.
    “We gotta go inside.” Ellen spoke up. To say the truth she felt a bit uncomfortable, the display between the two of you making her feel like a third wheel. You nodded in agreement and say goodbye to Bruce, leaving with Ellen to get a good seat. “What is going on between you and Wayne?” she asked as soon as you were out of earshot.
    “What do you mean?” you asked back. “We’re friends, that’s all.”
    Skeptical, Ellen studied you. You really seemed to have no idea. She sighed. “Just promise me you be careful.” she said, earning a strange look from you. “Wayne is known as a playboy, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Still, thinking back to what she had just seen she wondered if he would hurt you. Then again, she once overheard Mrs. Gordon claim the man was a pig. Either way, you were her best friend and she didn’t want you to end up with a broken heart over some guy. Besides she had really thought that there was something going on between her and Batman, so she didn’t know how to act when seeing you with another man.
    But you waved her worries off. “I know. Really, there is nothing going on between us.”
    Managing to catch a good seat in the first row you waited for the ringmaster to open the show. It was amazing. Jugglers, clowns, and a knife thrower. Next was a girl doing an act with a elephant and an animal tamer with his tigers. Till finally…
    “Ladies and Gentlemens, boys and girls, children of all ages -I present to you the fearless Flying Grayson!” The crowd cheered as the light landed at the two acrobats, a man and a woman, high above them. These were the big stars of the Haly’s Circus and everyone knew they were in for a treat. “As always performing their daring feats without the safety of a net!” They started doing their act on the trapeze. Before long the lights also focused on a young boy that was up there with them. “And now the youngest member of this amazing family.” the ring master introduced him.
    Then it happened. Before he could get into the act and jump out to catch his mother’s hands, the boy froze suddenly and looked at something above him. Not a second later the supports came undone. Both his parents fell, nothing breaking their landing. The crowd screamed.
    Instinctive you jumped over the ring railing to get to the fallen couple, Ellen following you. You knew they were dead before you checked the pulse. Closing your eyes in defeat, you were vaguely aware of Ellen talking to the shocked circus people. She explained that you were both from the GCPD and called Gordon on her phone. Your eyes opened and looked up to were the boy was kneeling on the small podium, starring down shocked. “Y/n, were are you going?” Ellen called after you when she noticed that you were getting up.
    “I’m going to help that boy down.” you explained not stopping. “He’s in shock. Even a experienced acrobat would have problems coming down in that state.” No boy should have to watch his parents die. Climbing the latter up to the podium, you tried to lose as little time as you could. When you reached the top, you found the boy sobbing bitterly. It made your heart clench. Gentle you laid an hand on his shoulder, kneeling next to him.
    Young Grayson looked up at you, his vision blocked by his tears. Hiccuping he tried to hold them back, but they wouldn’t stop. Wordlessly you pulled him in your arms. No sound left his lips as he screamed for his parents, pushing his face into your chest and clenching on to you. Your arms tightened around him. You let him cry, focusing just at being there for him. Whatever words were the right ones at that moment, they failed you then and there.
    So for a long while you said nothing. Your eyes met Bruce’s  down in the audience, but you looked away. Softly you rubbed the boys back to calm him down. The crowd left at the same time your colleagues from the police arrived and started asking questions to the witnesses. Nobody rushed you to come down, but you knew you had to eventually. You waited till the forensics covered his parents’ bodies before you decided it was time. At least he would be spared to see their dead bodies up close.
    “Can you tell me your name?” you asked carefully to get his attention. You didn’t pushed him to answer you, waiting till he was ready to do so.
    His shoulder shook a little, before he laid limply in your arms. “Dick… Grayson…” he said, so softly you barely heard him. Slowly he looked up to you. “Mom and dad… they’re- …aren’t they?”
    The look in his eyes was breaking your hard. You hated doing this, but you nodded. Dick already knew, but this made it real. He hid his face in your shoulders again, looking for comfort. Any kind of comfort, even if it was from a total stranger. Holding him close you shed a tear.


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anonymous asked:

Prompt where Bedelia get high ( like in dolce ) and hannibal isn't very happy about it

Warning: angst ahead. Unfortunately, this was the only way I could make this work in character, I am sorry. (I really am, I don’t like angst.)

Nostalgia

The plan was devised before they reached Florence. Her alibi. Bedelia did not want to leave anything to chance. There was something reassuring in placing the small bag in the bathroom vent. Like a safety net she could fell back on. She was planning to put the drugs to test; she needed to ensure she would still be in control. Yet she kept postponing it, without reason, she convinced herself.

Just as the package she hid within the walls, there was a thought hidden deep in her mind, hoping she won’t have to use it. She tried to banish it, not letting herself succumb to the sentiment, any sentiment, but the only thing that was forgotten was the plan.

Until the day, she knew the end was inevitable.

“You’ve met Inspector Pazzi before.”

“In my youth.”

She made a last attempt to warn him, help him, somehow more heartfelt than before. Her heart suddenly grew heavy. It felt thick and strange, a foreign sensation she could not suppress.

Bedelia retrieved the bag from its hiding place. It felt like a relic from a different era and in a way, it was. Nothing more than perfecting her alibi, she continued to tell herself, as the needle pierced her skin. But as the world in front her eyes turned to haze, the heaviness taking hold of her heart lifted and it was what she truly wanted. Her head felt back as she reclined in the chair.

All the colours around her were amplified, the lights melted into rays of gold, stretching along the walls. The lights became brighter and instantly she was no longer in the apartment, but flowing across the dance floor in Hannibal’s arms. The world around them nothing but a blur as he held her tightly, smiling. She had never felt that way before, the exhilaration of living life at the edge, without a safety net. She felt invincible.

He called her name, but it seemed to be coming from afar. Bedelia blinked and the ballroom disappeared; she was back at the apartment and Hannibal was standing in front of her.

“Bedelia, what have you done?” his voice sharp, but she hardly noticed.

“I am fine, Hannibal” her own voice muffled, as though belonging to someone else.

He looked at the unmarked vials, before kneeling next to her. She felt his fingers examining her arm.

“What have you taken?”

“Does it matter?” resignation poured from her every word.

“Yes, of course it does. I care about you.”

Bedelia gazed at Hannibal, his face coming in and out of focus, yet his eyes remained a sharp focal point. Behind the anger in his eyes, she saw true affection. The heaviness returned, denser than before, spilling over her heart and rising to her throat, making speaking hard.

“Do you?” she pushed his arm away and stood up, legs unsteady, leaving the room before he saw the tears filling her eyes.

This was not part of her plan. It should not hurt.

It did.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any head-canons on Riley's mental health?

oh boy DO I anon…i actually am planning a fic where i delve into riley’s mental health, especially during her college years. but to answer your question, i headcanon riley as having depression and a type of anxiety. i’m going to go more into all of that when i write my fic, but i’ll give you a lil bit of it right now. 

so with depression, this is something that i think a lot of the fandom kind of sees her as having, and there are actually a lot of hints in canon that riley suffers from depression. riley has said so herself that she feels invisible, and her actions through rileytown to nearing the end of season 2 are very much of someone who might have depression (expressing that she’s tired in rah rah, a lot of her actions in rileytown, her sleeping in the middle of the day in texas part 3 for seemingly no reason what so ever). so i definitely think that it’s very possible that she has depression to some degree. 

in my own hedacanon, college is when she really starts to show more and more signs, i think through high school, she tries really hard to not let herself get too lost in those feelings that she might have because of her friends and family, but once she’s in college, she kind of just starts to feel really alone and isolates herself. in my headcanon, which in all honesty is based a lot on my own experiences with depression in college, riley sleeps a lot during college and kind of stops eating and spends all of her holed up in her room. 

i think part of the reason this symptoms would get worse is because she’s alone in college, without her kind of safety net of her friends and family, which is very essential to who she is as a person, and honestly, riley bases so much of her self worth on her friends and what she does for them, so i think in college she would start to question what kind of place she has in the world without her friends, especially if she sees them all succeeding in the world and breaking out of her shells. idk i headcanon college as being rough for riley, i love hurting her sometimes. 

along with her depression, i see her also having a type of anxiety. this is something that i headcanon based on riley’s need to please people and do what’s best for everyone all the time, ( “i’m just trying to do what’s best for everyone!!!!” - texas part 3 ) that she get so anxious about pleasing everyone else  and can slip into a kind of bad anxious place when she does something that ends up making someone upset. we’ve always seen that riley does things for other people and has a kind of uncontrollable need to make other people happy, even if it means putting her own happiness on the back burner. 

i also think that this would come into play in college because she would be so used to making sure everyone else around her is doing well, and being happy, especially her friends who are all off succeeding in other schools, that she gets really anxious if one of her friends thinks that something is wrong with her. like she’s so focused on keeping the attention off of her and her feelings that her anxiety kind of kicks in when there’s any kind of focus on her, or what might be wrong. 

like i said though, these are all just headcanons, if you agree or disagree with me that’s totally fine!! sorry this got so long, this is something that i’ve given so much thought to, i’m writing a whole fic about it ajfkdaf thanks for reading this whole thing, appreciate it fam. 

You honestly think talking shit at sixpenceee about her condoning child slave labor is gonna change anything in her country? Ha.

They either work like that or they starve and die. Of course you could make the philosophical argument “Would you rather live as a slave or die like a dog” but it seems that the desire to live is stronger than pride or ideas of personal autonomy in cultures that haven’t been blessed with the isolating individualism that Westerners have.

Their economy is shit, their government is corrupt, democracy is in name only. You have poor poor poor villages with women with no access to birth control and the need to pump out kids to tend to their family’s measly little farm which, big surprise, doesn’t produce enough food to feed all those kids. So what do you do? You either hope someone comes along with an offer to take them to a magical place abroad where they can work, be happy, and send money home, or you do the most desperate thing of all and personally sell them into slavery, sexual or otherwise.

According to this article by the New York Times, there have been attempts to outlaw the importation of goods made by factories that used child labor. The response was to fire all those kids who were then left without a job. Naturally, they turned to sex work because they couldn’t return to their village empty-handed, or else they knew there wouldn’t be room for them.

It’s their culture, as well. The enslaved and the slavers think this system is justified and works. “If I’m not hired, I’ll starve, so I’m glad I am employed in this person’s home.” “These slaves are born to be slaves. It’s karma, it’s their purpose in life and by hiring them we are alleviating some of their suffering, and the least they can do in repayment for our generosity is work for us.”

Of course this holier-than-thou attitude can lead to sadism and cold-blooded torture of these slaves at the hands of their masters. This again is culture-based and mostly learned. No one really puts a stop to it, so they continue. These people are objects and property, so it’s okay to slap them around a bit. These kids are unwanted and are most definitely not going to school, so no one is really going to care if they go missing.

Naturally, the idea of independence, entrepreneurship, “inalienable rights”, and democracy are not very much a thing in this country. If anything, pence’s justification is understandable. This is literally her world like how gun ownership is completely accepted in America or how the idea of universal healthcare is a no-brainer to many European countries, or that it simply makes sense that you work yourself to death for the sake of your company and fellow employees in South Korea and Japan.

If you’ve read this and have it in your head I’m defending this person, I’m not. I’m merely highlighting that the fact of the matter is, the West’s idealistic self-actualizing “all men are created equal!” spiel is easily drowned out by the grim and very real cultural and economic forces that rule her country (among other things). Is it wrong to try to justify child labor? Yes, but is screaming at this person going to change anything in the city or town she lives in, or the life of her servants? No. There isn’t anything that’s going to catch those kids if they were given the boot. You can’t say “OH THIS IS BAD HOW DARE YOU!!” without first laying some fucking safety nets so that the people suffering can actually find a safe alternative when they get the boot. Again, whether you think it’s better to live as a slave or die without ever having experienced life (however varied its quality may be) is to me a personal philosophy that cannot be applied to everyone since preservation instincts and culture help sort that debate out in its own way.

Just like Tumblr, to focus on finger wagging and writing off someone as being inherently evil for believing in something that makes sense given context. Again, it’s not right, again it’s horrible and people suffer, but as it stands, it’s reality.

This of course is simply an analysis and attempt at explaining without proposing any solutions but solutions have never been my strong suit, I’m more of an impartial information broker.

Energy Manipulation: Polarization habits (don’t make you a bad person), and how to break them

Often when we do a thing for long enough, we forget bits and pieces when we turn around to teach someone else the thing. So, the energy manipulation posts that you all have been reading may be a tad (read: very) incomplete. That’s okay. That’s why we have addendums. This is a long read. I tried to keep it short, but there’s a lot to address on this subject matter. There are also more exercises in this one post than in any other, so bear with me.

Keep reading

The human heart has a long memory though and remembers what it was like to live through days when it was constantly surprised or enthralled by the world around it. Unfortunately we have been taught control, control, control all our lives by parents, society, and our education. If you can’t control something, then get rid of it or get out of it or get away from it.

Yet we know that both the heart and the imagination really are most alive when they are not in control of things, flying through the air without a safety net below to catch them. To live immersed in wonder means both the unknown and the thrilling surround you, as in a great love affair

—  Jonathan Carroll

anonymous asked:

The thing is though even if Dany is starting to believe Jon, without the North's fealty it's gonna be hard for her to commit to anything without a safety net. Like fair enough she helps them, then what? After she helps them win the war without their fealty and her losing a large chunk of her people in the war how is she gonna take on Cersei when they can just go "no thank you, wars in the south don't concern us, we're independent" than Dany would be screwed and she knows it

Right!? Like ok so she’s gonna fight alongside you and then when y'all are good, you’ll just tell her to piss off? Who in their right mind would be ok with that? The funny thing is though that Dany will end up committing without fealty and it’s Jon who finally offers his title. So all these anti’s saying Dany is cold and heartless and doesn’t give a shit about people are gonna look real dumb when 1. She proves them wrong and 2. Jon pledges to her anyway