@lovesdaya

slaughter-house five - kurt vonnegut / orpheus and eurydice - catharine adelaide sparkes / user sawasawako / orpheus mourning the death of eurydice - ary scheffer / metamorphoses - ovid / orpheus and euridice - enrico scuri / talk - hozier / orpheus and eurydice - michel martin drolling

CSS Background Generators | Resources ✨

I am literally one of the laziest people with making backgrounds - either manually or looking for a good image, so I looked online for some generators and thought I would share them here!

haikei - LINK

bgjar - LINK

coolbackgrounds - LINK

meshgradient - LINK

mesh-gradients - LINK

gradienta - LINK

svgbackgrounds - LINK

SVG patterns - LINK

pattern monster - LINK

Hope this helps someone! 💗

800 free Computer Science classes | Comp-Sci Resources ♥

800 free Computer Science classes you could take online right with video lectures!

Link: GitHub - Developer-Y/cs-video-courses: List of Computer Science courses with video lectures

I found this link in a tweet and found the site very helpful! Take full advantage comp sci learners!!!

Have a nice day and happy programming ♥

I'm myopic. So I need my glasses everytime I want to experience how a person with normal eyesight sees things. So, the situation is that to experience equality in terms of sight or vision, I NEED my glasses. It's not an advantage, it's a necessity. But to my father, it doesn't seem that way. He thinks I just need to wear glasses when I'm studying. To him, it looks like a tool to help me do something better rather than something that I need to do things normally all the the time.

I think people with any disability are misunderstood the same way and it's a shameful understanding society keeps about their issues. If only these nuances are understood more precisely, maybe we wouldn't question laws made for people with disabilities, so that they can experience equal participation and rights like any normal citizen, and maybe this world would be a slightly better place.

this is simply the greatest video i have ever seen

i’ve turned into a purple gel pen girl of late

Main pairing: Will Graham × female reader

Summary: Will plans to escape federal custody to gather evidence to prove his innocence but he needs help, more importantly he needs you. So much so, that you don't get to decide if you want to come with him or not.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, mentions of murder, psychiatric facilities and breaking law.

Writer's note: Just a little dark fluff cause I had to write something on Will Graham!

Please don't repost/edit/ blog this story. Do NOT copy my work. Feel free to like, comment and reblog.

The intimacy knowing his mind provided, even a year in his bed couldn't. You do regret not being able to smell him though; the glass between you both hindering the magnificence of his husk, woody smell. He hates it, staying within a place where every day someone's trying to get into his head. And so do you. No matter what they say, you believe Will couldn't have possibly killed them. And it isn't blind belief in him but rather the confidence in your convictions to know his mind.

He doesn't ask it out loud, but his eyes beg you to not judge him- not for the things he says he didn't do. And maybe he knows you believe him to some extents because you're the only psychiatrist he asked for and talks to. You've visited Hannibal too. While you respect the man for his intellect, he has a peculiar aura about him. His charm, insight, love for refined taste in lifestyle and literature- his perfection. It strikes you as odd. You don't believe every accusation Will tossed at the doctor but you do believe it has some truth to it- some story.

It's cold and gloomy to walk in these halls. But you can't really complain, after all it is a psychiatric facility. Your heart beats loud at the prospect of seeing him again.

It was a shock sure- when you recieved word from Dr Chilton that Will Graham requested you to be his psychiatrist and if you're being honest, then probably more shocking than Will getting convicted. Afterall, it's been two years since you last saw Graham. The sessions have been interesting although.

He's already staring at you while you climb down the stairs. His intense stare makes your heart pump faster but you keep your face neutral.

"Hello, Will."

"Dr. L/N."

"How do you feel this morning?"

"Bitter. A little annoying too, possibly. Did you talk to Dr. Chilton about the concept of privacy?"

"He denied your claims.", then offering him a little smirk I mention, "Hoping that he'd stop monitoring our conversations as a professional courtesy or even moral obligation is too much in his case. So, I believe he's still listening in."

Will chuckles and a familiar softness enters his gaze for a moment, reminding you of the times you used to live together.

"Of course, Doctor."

Before your blank mask cracks you push the conversation into safer territory.

"They told me you'd be taken into federal custody this coming Monday?"

"Yes, doc. They denied my plea for insanity."

You observe his face for any clues and you find something you wish you didn't. He can see the moment of clarity, the moment you realise why he's fine with the idea of going to prison for crimes he never claimed as his own despite the evidence against him and he smiles.

You have known for a while that he was leaning towards manipulation. Baiting fish with baits he had never revealed before, you knew for a while that his desperation for someone to believe him, combined with his resentment for the doctor was changing him. But you were sympathetic, you felt it in you that he didn't do it. But now, you're conflicted.

You can't stay quiet. But you have no evidence to support your claim either. Not like you'd give him up just like that. Somewhere within, you know you can't really help him, not with what he really needs the help. It's not his mind that's the issue, it never was. He always has been a man aware of every crook and cranny of his own mind. He was either being framed or he commited every crime in complete concious, but knowing Will like you did, you knew it was the former.

"Will. I would ask you to rethink over your subjective decisions once again."

"I take objectivity in consideration just as much as subjectivity while deciding, doctor. I'm okay with it. Atleast I won't be listened in on every damn second."

His tone is filled with conviction. You know you can't change his mind. Before you can say anything he slowly brings his fingers outside the bars, giving you time to decide if you want to move forward or not. You do. You cover the steps to the bars and reach with your own hand. Shudders go through your hand the moment they touch his.

"Why did you come, Y/N? We don't have any session anymore, doctor?"

"I-", looking at his face you know why you came, "I know you didn't do this. I wish I could help, but what I can give doesn't seem enough."

Shouts ring from the other end of the hallway, telling you to step back. Looking in his eyes, beautiful blue, you tell him one last thing.

"I know. And I understand."

You know he knows what you were talking about the moment his eyes show warmth and turn glassy.

They escort you out of the hall and you leave willingly, still reeling from the intensity of possibly your last encounter with the man you have loved for so long.

Spending the rest of the week with a restless energy because of knowledge you weren't supposed to have irks you. But you worry if he'll be okay? Or if he'll make matters worse if he failed?

Monday is filled with appointments and sessions for you, leaving you too busy to think of Will. The thought creeps out often from the back of your mind but you push it back nonetheless. He will be okay. It's his business anyway, who can say you had any idea of his potential escape anyway. You weren't his psychiatrist anymore, nor are you his lover. You don't need to worry.

Deciding to spend your lunch hours at home, looking over your garden- you drive home. It's quiet here, like usual. Your fingers tremble from time to time when you think of Will, hoping to whatever god that listens that he is atleast alive and okay.

Walking in through your door, you drop you keys on the counter top, taking off your heels. So lost in your thoughts that you miss his smell as he creeps behind you. Freezing when you hear a gun being cocked, you turn around slowly.

"Will."

If it's a plea or relief, you can't tell yourself.

"Well atleast you escaped successfully. What ar-"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Who'd have believed me?", you scoff to sound believable.

"Jack would've.", his eyes stare you down as if commanding you to tell him the truth. He knows it but he wants to hear you say it. You can see it in his lost eyes.

"I know you're not a killer. I knew escaping was your only option.", looking at his disappointed eyes you can't help but whisper the remaining truth, "And I still care about you, Will."

"Baby-", his eyes water at your admission. The hidden pain all bubbling up to surface. And your heart aches seeing his beautiful face contorted in such a painful expression.

You push his gun aside and bring your hands on his head to bring it to yours. Taking his hand, you both sit on your couch and you tuck his head in your chest as he sobs quietly for all he's gone through the past months.

Minutes later, he's kissing you with a mix of desire and desperation and you comply fervently. Kissing and tasting him like this feels so intimate yet familiar at once, like old times but much more intensified because of the renewed passion and intellectual intimacy. Your conversations with Will these past months have brought you closer to him in a way you never were with him when you two actually dated.

Tugging his hair, you moan into his mouth as he rakes his hand firmly through your hair, down to your breasts. Pressing them firmly but torturously slow he moves you into his lap. Grinding into his lap, you throw your head back as he sucks your chest through your blouse. His pants grow hotter and his grip on your hips tighter as you keep grinding down his covered length faster.

A shrill ring cuts through the lusty fog you both are lost into. You realise it's your phone. Sighing as you peel yourself from his lap while he stares at you with barely controlled desire, you retreat to your discarded handbag.

Taking out your phone, you look at him in panic.

"It's Jack. They know you've escaped. Go! Leave, Will-"

"You don't really believe I just came to ask you a question, do you?"

Realising what he's implying you stare at him in shock.

"Will, No. I can't come. Yo-"

"It isn't a choice, baby.", he slowly picks up his gun as he stands up to walk to me, "I need help and you are the only one who's willing to believe. And after what just happened, there's not just only one reason to bring you with me anymore. You're coming with me."

You sigh in defeat when you see how serious he is. It might take a long while to change his mind. But it seems he knows you'd fight back because next you know he's knocking you on the back of your skull and everything turns black.

Mary Oliver

This scene right here is much more than Steven sitting in despair. It's literally the heartbreak on his face after a fight. The way the mirror is broken it seems it was punched way too many times in anger. Clearly, the baby Bois have been fighting and arguing. Steven is in pain because of his new reality and the possibility of Marc hurting someone meanwhile Marc is in agony over his role in stopping the "evil madman" and protecting both Steven and Layla from konshu.

The way Marc was waiting with a proud daddy smirk on his face, waiting for Steven so that he can tell him first what a good punch he landed and then go for negotiating surrender of his body.

The brilliant way this scene was put together. Brilliantly acted, shot and edited. And holy shit, the eyes on Oscar Issac! This is absolute gem!

Steven is going to be in shock for a long time for this one! The way he was shocked seeing the divorce papers?

"I would never divorce you."

Or the part where he without hesitation stated.

"You seem really lovely. On the other hand, this Marc? He sounds like a twit, right?"

He's is so precious given the way he talks, oh I'm swooning please!

Covered in sweat, nursing whiskey, broken glass, thrown pillows, messy sheets- poor Marc is a literal mess. So much to protect and fight for, so much to live through especially his own demons and nightmares. He clearly needs a good sleep, a little rest. The way he's looking in the mirror and then turning to take a gulp from his bottle, there's no doubt they did have a bad argument. He's as much of a mess Steven is , maybe more so, he just likes to use knives to express it.

Well, I was tagged by @a-map-of-myweakspots For handtag, it was relaxing. So now I am tagging @who-is-this-nerd @a-map-of-myweakspots (thankyou for giving me the luxury few relaxing seconds in 'my havoc of a life🤣') @solareisen @radi-energia