White people be thinking that because they had a black friend in fucking junior high that it exempts them from being racist.

@mudwoven​ ;  *twerks on steve's lap* happy birthday zaddy DONT BLOCK ME PLEASE

    𝙹𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙲𝚁𝙰𝚆𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚇𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚂.  he listens with one ear plugged with wax—odysseus sailing past the sirens, only he is deaf both to danger and insight.  he will underestimate hannibal lecter, and it will be his downfall.  it seems nothing bedelia has to say will change this; she wonders why he bothered to puncture the delicate blister of safety she’d constructed for herself if he had only planned to heed every other word she says.  resentment and irritation flare under her breast—she had forced herself to answer his call, had brushed aside her self-preservational instincts and returned herself to hannibal’s sphere of influence, only to be party to another one of his victories.

    bedelia hopes she is mistaken, but doubts that is the case.

    her head angles gently, gaze latching onto jack’s.    “i was content with what i had made for myself,”    she says evenly, picking through her words with care.  though her diction may betray her general malcontent, she is careful to maintain a mask of inscrutability.  to insinuate dissatisfaction rather than grant it free rein.  it is easy to do so.  second nature to show caution in revealing the truth of her feelings; she has long since learned the necessity for it.    “that anonymity is... lost to me, now.”

    whatever hope she’d had of evading hannibal is in the past.  bedelia does not doubt that her efforts have already spared her life, but a great feat achieved once does not lend itself to repetition.  her presence here has returned her to the heart of the maze, and the walls have shifted around her; to find her way out once more, she must choose a different route.  it has already been proven that such a retreat as she attempted is traceable; if jack crawford can find her, then hannibal lecter can as well.  she had been confident, before, that removing the temptation would be sufficient—that dangling herself just out of reach would force him back onto his heels.  now that his match with will graham and the fbi is drawing to a close, the entirety of his focus is liable to turn back to her.

ROMANCE  IS  EASY ,  RELATIONSHIPS  ARE  HARD .       between the pair lie a mountain of failed dynamics   :   for Thor ,  a sibling he couldn't reconnect with ,  a father he couldn't emulate ,  a mother torn trying to keep this family together as they drifted   ;   like trying to catch an ocean in your palms .     Natasha perhaps feels different ,  perhaps the same   --------------   their stories diverge and intertwine at different points ,  after all .

romance is easy .   romance is impulse ,  is desire ,  is fleeting sensations that come and go and leave you dizzy as you try and comprehend your stance on the world .   does its simplicity hold us back    ?       Thor wonders ,  toying absent - mindedly with his emptied glass ,  watching the light reflect and refract through the vessel .

❝       do you wish to ,  someday     ?     or is that a fantasy long acquired and forgotten by those in this line of work    ?      ❞