#i need therapy before i go insane.

[raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m]

Pov: You raise a glass to freedom...

Nom...

[raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m]

both... honestly, both...

[tethered-heartstrings]

hannibal blurred with all of us. I can't see a movie and not think "huh, just like in hannibal" or hear a song and not assign it to hannigram or have a normal functional day without thinking about how absolutely batshit insane and in love they are and how they blurred and changed the boundary between and meanings of love and violence

[p4nishers]

"you don't find comfort at the tva" do u get that THIS was mobius' mindset before meeting loki?? that there was no comfort to be had in his life?? that when he wanted to spare an 8 YEAR OLD BOY it wasn't the right thing to do for the system? he carried that burden, the timelines branching and people dying because of it, all the way to that conversation with loki. i would bet anything it was eons ago for him and yet, that one little moment of KINDNESS burdened him. before loki, there was no comfort. then they came along and suddenly, the tva felt like home. it felt new, it felt lively, it felt real, it felt comfortable BECAUSE loki was there. they WERE home to mobius, after all those eons of aching loneliness. i have no doubt he was kind before loki because that's just who he fundamentally is but he LET himself be kind after loki came into his life. because he felt comfortable enough. and then. loki left him. the tva felt empty again. the food and coffee mobius loved so much turned to ash in his mouth. HE felt hollow and empty. home was never a place, it was always loki. the tva suddenly felt suffocating, he HAD to leave, he had to use the opportunity loki gave him, the chance they sacrificed themselves for.

and there – watching what could've been – he felt the sunshine on his face, and something else too. someone else. it filled him with him hope hadn't felt in a very long time.

[raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m]

So, it was a random day. I was doing the morning announcements with this boy, let's name him LK for now. And so, we started them off normal, "Hey! Blah, blah, blah!" And so there was one last message before we ended. LK said, "There was a... Dino-sour water bottle left on bus so-and-so." And so I was laughing so hard, I was told they could hear me over the announcements. I'm just laughing right now thinking about it. I blame and thank the music teacher for his horrible writing. That is a core memory for life.

dino-soaur waterbottle

@raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m, wanna explain... this

[mattzerella-sticks]

You know what? Maybe it's a controversial opinion but it makes sense why, no matter what Jason does or how he changes or how long ago it was, Bruce will always hold how he has killed people in the past over his head.

We're talking about a man who puts on a cape and cowl every night because of the memory of helplessness he has from being a kid who watched his parents be mugged then murdered in front of him. A man who has control issues. A deeply troubled man who has contingency plans for even his children.

There is nothing Jason can do if Bruce isn't willing to work with him. Not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Bruce and Jason.

The ball is in Bruce's court.

He needs to start putting in the work to forgive Jason, forgive himself for the perception that he failed Jason by 'letting' him become a killer, and change how he sees Jason. Because while he sees his son, Jason? I'm betting he also sees a Joe Chill-esque 'monster' he had a hand in releasing on the world. Doesn't matter that Jason has a no-kill policy now. This is Bruce's problem he needs to fix.

And how does he do that?

Therapy.

[runawaymun]

.

[raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m]

I was called a fag... and a slut. :[

noel i love yewww /pLationic

your so silly your so silly dont listen to that GROSS ASS ANON or the guy on your whiteboard i would vandalize your whiteboard but with hearts and john laurens /silly /pos

Thank youu :/

They insulted my art as well which idc but like..😭😭 they also insulted @raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m .. :(

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[raise-a-gla55-2-fr33d0m]

I found this on Pinterest

(Referencing 1776 if anyone watched it)

[binch-i-might-be]

I need a new tattoo

[alxclaremont]

life update no one asked for: worked 300 hours in a month, started my junior year of college, started therapy, realized i hate my major, and i am subsequently changing my major

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

For the rare coherent, rational thought: it's pretty unlikely this is actually about him or even me. He's sure as fuck not helpin but it's just a smokescreen.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

my version of "i unblocked my ex and i'm texting them" is just "i desperately want this girlie who made up imaginary beef with me a year ago who i've had less than three conversations with and who will not stop vagueing about me on main to dm me so i can bite their jugular with my teeth" and i think that's so real and sexy of me.

[burningembers91]

On Display - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to Freak of Nature

Synopsis: When you break your routine, the Salesman is forced to break his.

A/N: I'm still not sure how dark I want this to be. I mean, he's obviously certifiably insane, but I also want him to retain some likeability.

Warnings: 18+ only, The Salesman is a stalker, the MC has been crying.

Something was off. He sensed it the moment he sat down and spied the empty chair that was usually occupied by your perfect frame. You were never late, and today it was 4:08pm and you were nowhere to be seen. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his molars grinding together as his temples twitched. He didn’t like it when things didn’t go as expected. It was one of the reasons he liked you so much; you were predictable. He knew exactly where you’d be at all times, but today you’d thrown him off his schedule.

You always finished work at 3:30pm sharp. You took 15 minutes to have a catch up with your colleagues, 5 minutes to freshen up in the staff bathroom and then 10 minutes to walk from the school to the coffee house. He’d seen you through the staffroom window, had seen you smile as you spoke to your colleagues. Cursing himself, he adjusted his position on the park bench, smoothing down his grey blazer as he tried to abate his rising anger. He’d had such high hopes for you. You’d done everything exactly the way he'd wanted until today. Of course, you had no idea what it was that he wanted because you had no idea he existed, but that was the beauty of it. He could test you out from afar before deciding whether to approach you. You were so nearly perfect, but today you’d let him down.

He took another look at his watch: 4:11pm. He was a patient man, but even he had his limits. He knew you didn’t have any other plans today. The handy little tracker he’d implanted in your phone one day at the coffee house when you’d been in the bathroom gave him full access to your phone. Your diary was clear, as it always was on a weekday. So where were you? He checked again, staring at your blank calendar as seething rage consumed him. Why, why did you have to break your routine?

His hands began to shake, and he closed his eyes, taking deeps breaths as he counted to ten. Therapy hadn’t been a complete waste of time; he’d learned a few coping mechanisms to help when he felt himself losing control. There had to be an explanation for why you weren’t here. Something must have changed.

Reaching 10, he opened his eyes. And there you were. Your eyes were red, your makeup smudged with tears. You’d been crying. He’d never cried before, could never understand why people did. Nothing in life was worth crying over as far as he was concerned. But something had obviously upset you. Was it your boss? He knew from your work emails that he’d been giving you a hard time. Maybe he needed to pay the man a little visit…

He watched through the window as you dumped your belongings in your usual seat, haphazardly wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, which only smudged your mascara more. You looked beautiful like this; so vulnerable and soft. He wondered what you sounded like when you cried, whether your sobs were soft and gentle, or whether your body wracked with the tears you shed. He hoped you weren’t an ugly crier; it would be such a shame if you were. He needed to get to the bottom of this, needed to find out who had done this to you.

Picking up his briefcase, he marched into the coffee house. He needed to be careful about how he approached you; the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. Not after he’d worked so hard to learn everything about you. You were the next in line to order, and he slotted himself behind you with a quiet ease. This was the first time he’d been this close to you, so close he could touch you. The familiar scent of your perfume wrapped him in a comforting blanket. Of course, he’d tracked down the scent and bought himself a bottle, spraying it whenever he couldn’t be near you. You were shorter than him, as he’d expected, but perfect in absolutely every way. He chastised himself for the anger he’d felt for you earlier. Someone else had made you late, had made you cry, and whoever it was would pay.

“One latte please,” you said to the barista, your voice hoarse with tears. He clenched his fist at the sound of your voice, the usual melodic tones now scratchy and gruff. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all. “Please.” He stepped forward without thinking, his default smile plastered to his face. “Let me pay.” You looked up at him, your red rimmed eyes filled with confusion. He watched you take in his appearance, watched the tip of your tongue dart out to wet your lips. He fought to control himself as he watched you, wondering how it would feel to for him to do it, to run his tongue over your lips before biting down until you moaned at him to stop.

He coughed, ridding the overly erotic image from his mind. He’d pictured you in a thousand positions, in a thousand different scenarios, but somehow the simple act of you licking your lips had put him into overdrive. He was struggling to concentrate, losing control of himself. He didn’t like to lose control.

“Thank you,” you finally said, your perfect eyes meeting his. “That’s very kind.” He smiled at you, brushing past you to pay for your coffee, adding his own order. The smell of your perfume was overwhelming, memories of long nights spent inhaling the scent he’d sprayed on his pillows as he pleasured himself to thoughts of you.

What was happening to him? He could feel his stomach dropping, feel a wave of nausea pass through him. Is this what panic felt like? “Would you like to join me?” you asked, taking your coffee from the barista. “Yes,” he managed to say, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead as he followed you and that damned perfume trail to the seat by the window. He was in over his head. He needed to get away.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said to him, as you sat down. “You like to sit on the bench.” You pointed to his usual vantage point, eyeing him curiously. “Yes,” he smiled, “I like to sit and watch the world go by.” He hadn’t realised you’d noticed him; you were always so engrossed in your work. There was that stomach dropping feeling again, but this time it was accompanied by the most delicious feeling, like his stomach was fizzing. His shirt felt too tight, his tie a little too snug around his neck. What the hell was happening to him? Was he losing his edge?

“You like to people watch?” you smiled, “so do I. It’s why I sit here. I find people fascinating.” He was trying to concentrate on what you were saying, but your mascara-streaked cheeks were such a distraction. He wanted to wipe them clean, to remove the inky black stains that spoiled your perfect skin. He wanted to lick away the tear streaks from your face, to tie you down and fuck you until the tears you cried were for him.

You watched him, maintained eye contact as you waited for him to speak. He was so lost in his thoughts that he couldn’t remember what you’d said. “You’ve been crying,” he observed instead. “Why?” You laughed nervously, wiping at your makeup-stained face. “Oh, just ex-boyfriends,” you laughed, “nothing serious.”

Nothing serious?! In all the meticulous research he’d done, there had been no mention of an ex-boyfriend. How serious had it been? Was he still in the picture? Evidently, he was, if he was still able to make you cry. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he managed to say, barely clinging to his polite persona. He wanted to tear this man apart, whoever he was. He wanted to make him feel agonising pain in every inch of his body. You were his, and his alone. He managed to maintain his composure for the rest of your chat, his mind drifting between your perfect features, thoughts of fucking you until you begged him to stop, and thoughts of ripping apart the man who had made you cry. The time was approaching 6:00pm. You’d be heading home soon, to cook some dinner and watch some Netflix, or read a book. He’d have to be content to watch you from the restaurant across the road, your figure outlined in your cream curtain against the soft glow of your lamps.

“You know,” you turned to him as you pulled your coat on, “you don’t have to watch me from the window. If you wanted to talk to me, you could just come and sit down.” You smiled slyly, and left the coffee house without a further word. Never in his life had he been left speechless. He thought he knew you, thought he had you all figured out. He’d spent months learning all there was to know about you. He knew the names of your parents, knew how much money you had in your bank account, knew the name of your first-grade teacher, but you’d blindsided him in a single sentence. You knew he’d been watching you at the coffee house. You knew and you chose to stay in that same spot and let him stare at you every day. You knew what you were doing when you sat in front of the window at 4:00pm each afternoon. You were enticing him. You wanted him to play with you. You put yourself on display for him.

As he followed you to your apartment, a good few meters apart so you didn’t catch on, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, after all this time he’d finally met his match.

[icarusplease]

Oh my god I have so much to do tomorrow summer is already so insane

I have to plan a surprise baby shower, plan a surprise work anniversary gift, plan a work regional party, still do all my regular work, and go to LA this weekend, planning a cross party next month, planning a birthday party for two months, going to Portland that month, planning the logistics of my birthday, prepping for Halloween budgeting, and just trying to survive jdhdhdh