Blind, Not Brave. –

          ❝This shouldn't have happened to you.❞

          Alana meant it when she said it. She didn't intend on sounding contrite. She aimed for sincerity. That was the thing about her – she always meant what she said. Her poor heart hurt went out to Maggie. Really, it did. She chose to remember the now cuffed suspect as the soft-spoken shopkeeper from a small town that could've been home.

          She wanted to tell Maggie that everything would be alright and to brush back those strands of blonde hair now dull from detainment. But Alana couldn't. So she clenched her hands and let them rest on top of the table. On top of the paper trail.

          There were a billion different outcomes. None of them sounded right. They ran along the lines of “you were a lure” or “your husband used you.” But you loved him. That one chastising thought kept her from saying the harsh reality of the situation. She can't bring herself to say any of these things. She wasn't Jack Crawford. She wasn't Will Graham. She wasn't Hannibal Lecter. She was Alana Bloom.

          And with cases like these, she struggled to keep her voice level. She spoke quietly, as though it was the two of them alone without a two-way mirror and a group of FBI agents watching them from behind the glass.

          ❝I can't catch him without you.❞

Depends on my mood. XD Sometimes I never want to log on again, sometimes I think I can’t survive without it. In both cases it’s the people that make me mad as hell or keep me here... I like the way tumblr seems always in motion but stays the same. I like that there is so much creativity out there in all kinds and forms and I love getting to know new people. I like that you can freak out about a show or an actor and people will be like “IKR?!?!?!?!” and that you get to learn so much about other countries and people. I like that you can hang around here all day and never have the feeling that you’re missing out on something. 

4 is answered in the previous ask! c:

13) Do you have someone really important to you? If yes, using song lyrics, what’s one thing you want to say to them?

Yes.

The lyric:

We'll head south, just hold my hand now. I feel like I'm casting off my clothes and I'm running through the snow towards the sunset and I'm always with you.

It was a whole new world through the windshield, a curtain of hazy smoke thick and curling all around Marty as he drove down the road. Grinning, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He had no limits to where he could go or what he could do. Nothing to hold him back from getting out of this town and taking to the highway, and before he knew it, gone a thousand miles away across the country. The possibilities were infinite, and he was made more aware with every hit from his bong he took. Sucking in another lungful, the earthiness swelled sweet and true inside his chest, the burn warm and slow.

Oh yeah, I’m feelin’ it, he thought, until a figure darted out in front of him, made androgynous and indecipherable from the shadows — and pale headlights washed over a silhouette which had Marty swerving to avoid contact. Cue a squeal of tires and a series of loud, shocked expletives as he skidded across the asphalt and into the other lane. Marty was only lucky that they were in the middle of bum-fucking-nowhere so that there was no sign of any other approaching vehicles within sight.

❝Ahh shit!❞

❝Want one?❞ Marty asked in his usual friendly, tranquil sounding voice. He figured it was only the right thing to do given the circumstances. His latest selection of joints were all especially beautifully made, and it almost seemed a shame not to have someone to share the wealth with. So far everyone else had turned him down. A small smile tweaked his lips as he held out a pre-rolled spliff. ❝It’s on me.❞

      He gave the basement a lasting, sweeping scan before leaving. A place of shadows, dust and death; it was here that he felt most comfortable doing his work. And yet his heart seemed to drum faster with each step he climbed. The same crushing thoughts kept racking his mind over and over and over: What will she think of me? How will she react? Will she love me after this?

      At the end of his climb, he opened the door to find his wife waiting where he knew she would be. She knew about his secret, but would she become his accomplice? Will she be able to do it?

   “ Are you ready, honey? ”