#she just cant admit that shes in pain and is vulnerable and has weak moments 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[medicalunprofessional]

doomed balding yuri strikes back

[youngpettyqueen]

cant stop thinking about Jadzia sending Worf to check on Julian after he gets hurt in Revenant so I decided to do a quick little scene of it for a writing cooldown

Difficult as it is for him to move away from Jadzia, Worf knows an order when he hears one. Forcing himself to comply, he draws himself up to stand, and turns and heads towards the fallen doctor at a jog.

Worf hasn't been acquainted with Julian for long. He's hardly spent any time with the doctor- this mission has been the most spent he's spent with him since his arrival on Deep Space 9. He's found Julian to be a loud man, nearly incapable of silence, with a quick tongue and a smile that never seems to leave his face. He hasn't been particularly fond of the man, and finds his unending energy and bantering to be irritating for the most part.

Now, though, Julian is none of the things he usually is. When Worf reaches him, there's no witty remark to greet him. Julian doesn't seem to notice him. He's sitting against the wall, curled at the torso, his hands tucked against himself and hidden. The only sounds that escape him are ragged gasps and whimpers of pain. There's no bravado or smile here, just a wounded man in the throes of agony.

Worf kneels before him. "Doctor Bashir." He says, his voice quiet.

Julian looks up at him. His eyes are wide, his expression anguished. The damp sheen on his cheeks doesn't escape Worf's notice. "Commander-" He chokes out, "Jadzia, is she-?"

"She is alright," Worf assures him. A lie, for certain, but if there's another thing he knows about Doctor Bashir, it's that he will abandon his own needs without hesitation in order to help a patient. And right now, he's the one with the wounds that can actually be treated. Jadzia's pain runs far deeper, beyond the physical, "What is the nature of your injuries?" He asks.

"My hands," Julian says, shaky-voiced and struggling, "The phaser, it e-exploded right in my hands. It- it hurts," He admits. Vulnerability is not something Worf has seen so far on the doctor, and he finds it to be an aching sight, "God, it hurts so bad..." He whimpers.

Worf doesn't doubt him. "Let me see," He bids, holding his hands out. Julian hesitates, and he adds, "I will not harm you, Doctor. I only want to assess the extent of the damage before calling for medical attention."

Julian's pain-bright eyes dart over his face for a moment. Then he swallows hard, and uncurls himself enough that he can lift his arms. He holds his hands out slowly, his arms shaking badly, and Worf is as gentle as he can be as he takes the doctor by the forearms and draws his damaged limbs closer so that he can take a look.

His hands are, in a word, mangled. Even a cursory glance tells him the damage is extensive. The gloves of the arcsuit are completely gone, and the sleeves are torn away till just past the doctor's wrists. Splotchy burns mottle Julian's skin red and pink and raw, extending from his fingers down to his forearms. Worf carefully turns his hands over, and finds the picture is the same on the underside of his arms, and that there are deep lacerations in his palms and across his fingers.

He remembers hearing Julian scream. Loud and shrill, the sound of pure agony. Now he understands why.

Worf gives the rest of Julian a quick glance. There are other tears in his arcsuit- higher up his arms, at his chest, at his neck and face- but he doubts those shallow wounds can even be felt compared to the raw agony of his injured hands. Even so, they must be treated.

"You will require a hospital," Worf tells him, "I will take you to be transported. Can you stand?" He asks.

Julian nods weakly. Worf doesn't need to be asked to help; he shifts his position and gets an arm around Julian, easing him off the wall. He hooks his hand underneath Julian's arm and pulls him up to his feet with ease, his other hand supporting the doctor's injured hands, keeping his arms steady. Julian leans heavily against him, his knees weak and unsteady beneath him as he struggles to stay upright.

Worf supports him easily as they start to move. He keeps Julian tucked securely against his side, offering balance and support as he continues to tremble like a fawn. He moves him quickly past Jadzia and the fallen Nemi Vess, knowing that if Julian sees them, he'll forget all else, including himself.

"Worf?"

Worf looks around for the exit. "Yes, Doctor?"

"P-Promise you won't tell anyone I cried?"

Worf pauses. Looks down at the doctor, trembling and small against him. Julian looks up at him, and he's smiling, but that smile doesn't meet his eyes. Like he's trying to make a joke, but he means what he says too much.

"There is no shame in acknowledging pain," Worf tells him sincerely, "But if it will comfort you, then I will not tell anyone. You have my word." He vows.

Julian chuckles. A wet sound, halfway to a sob. "Remind me to- to thank you, once we're back at the station." He says.

Worf gets them moving again. "There is no need for thanks," He replies, "I am only doing my duty. You would do the same for me." He reasons.

"Humour me." Julian implores him.

"Very well," Worf agrees, if only so they won't argue. The doctor very much loves to argue, no matter what state he's in, something else he'd learned fairly quickly, "Now, save your strength." He bids him.

Julian nods, drooping heavier against Worf. He holds him steady with ease, supporting his slight frame as if he weighs nothing at all. Should Julian's legs fail him, Worf will carry him, as he would any wounded comrade. Until then, though, he'll support him in his endeavour to walk. One agonizing, unsteady step at a time.

[castiels-majestic-wings]

Sixth Sense - Chapter 4

Paring: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,761

Warnings: Character Fake!death, injury and violence.

Posted: 10/01/2021

A/N: This one is based on 'Thor: The dark world'

Thor had taken you to the best healer in the palace. Odin had asked questions but Thor thought it best to let you explain. You had passed out not long after you left Loki’s cell. You had been unconscious for two days before finally waking up. You stirred before sitting up, the nurse making her way to you.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?” Your nose wasn’t hurting as much, you assumed they used some sort of magic to heal you. Looking down you saw bandages surround your waist. Had you started bleeding? Looking at the nurse you saw how small she was. About 5’5, small face, short blonde hair framing her face, and her dark brown eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fine. I need to speak to Loki.”

“Thor insisted that you rest”

“Well, it’s his fault I’m injured in the first place!” You swung your legs over to dangle on the side of the bed.

“I’m sorry? He didn’t tell us the cause of your injuries. I-I assumed Loki-” You glared at her.

“Loki didn’t do shit to me. Thor threw a punch at him and I took it. That’s all.” You gaze fell as you hopped off the bed. Ignoring the pain on your waist.

“Where’s Thor?”

“Thor has returned to Midgard. He didn’t say where but-”

“Thank you. But I need to check on Loki.” The nurse knew not to interfere Thor had said you were stubborn, so she let you leave. Walking around the palace you decided to go to Heimdall. He could see over the realms, you had to find out what Thor was doing. Making your way to the Bifrost you saw his figure ready to open a Bifrost. Thor must be returning soon.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Heimdall didn’t need to look at you to know you were there. A giggle escaped your lips as you walked closer.

“I should, but it doesn’t mean I will.” Stopping next to him, you looked up at his figure. “Where’s Thor? I was told he returned to Earth”

“Yes. He went to find Jane after I lost sight of her.” Heimdall seemed lost. He had never lost sight of anyone before.

“Jane? Wait, you lost sight of her? But you see everything within the 9 realms”

“That is why Thor was concerned for her. I assume the convergence has opened portals to places even I cannot see”

“Can you see her now?” Heimdall ignored me as he opened the Bifrost. Thor and Jane appeared as Heimdall removed his sword.

“Thor! When I’m done with you I swear- Jane?” You stopped noticing the brunette stood next to him. “The- Thor, she has, power within her. It’s the same energy as Loki’s. It’s dark- powerful.”

“You can see it?”

“Yes, but her body can’t handle it for long. Her aura is fluctuating. Her body is fighting it. It will kill her if you don’t remove it.”

“Thor-” Jane sounded timid. You realised your mistake after you spoke but it was too late.

“Jane, humans cant hold powers like that for long, I don’t know what it is, but it’s not meant for humans to wield. How did you get it?” As you were walking to the palace again Jane and Thor explained everything they could. Your tactician senses were kicking in. You knew a power like that would draw in enemies. If it was hidden for so long, you knew it was dangerous. You sensed it. Thor had told you to rest. He said he would take you back to Midgard as soon as he could, but for now he needed to help Jane. That was before the attack. How didn’t Heimdall see it sooner? You didn’t know, but you knew something bad was going to happen. Thor had you with Jane, out of the way. Safe. After the attack, you found out that Frigga had died defending Jane, or at least the illusion of Jane she used to deceive the Dark Elf. The funeral was held later that night. You knew Odin sent a guard to tell Loki of her death. You wanted to check on him, see how he was doing. You knew he loved her, even if she wasn’t his real mother. She raised him as her own. He must be broken.

After her funeral, you had been told to stay put until you can go back to Midgard. You obliged. No one was in their right mind after the loss of their queen. You couldn’t exactly fall asleep until Thor came to you. He needed your help. You followed him until you made it into a room, under the castle, unknown to most of the palace. Heimdall, Sif and the Warriors Three were there. They had a plan to save Jane. Thor walked you through it. When the time came he asked for my company to see Loki and get his help. You were the only one who knew Loki’s true self. He would listen to you. When you entered, you knew it was an illusion, you saw Loki’s aura, but it was against the wall. Not the figure you saw standing there. He didn’t want to show how vulnerable he was.

“Loki enough. No more illusions” Loki removed the illusion and the room was trashed, and there sat Loki, right where you sensed him. He was broken, more broken than you had ever seen him. His hair was tussled. He no longer wore his elegant clothing. The furniture was scattered around him. Things were broken and out of place. Yet the way Thor spoke at him. He didn’t care. He no longer believed him to be the brother he grew up with. He wouldn’t even answer his questions. You got mad. But let him continue either way. Loki then hid his feelings again. Before we left. Getting ready to escape. You walked behind them. Loki was messing with Thor using his illusions. You had to admit it was funny. But you were worried about his wellbeing. Being able to look so, normal. So, mischievous. After seeing how broken he was you didn’t understand how he did it. But you knew you shouldn’t ask. Sif escorted Jane to our meeting point. Jane began speedwalking as Loki went to introduce himself she slapped him. You stood forward but was held back.

“That was for New York” A mischievous grin appeared on his face before he replied.

“I like her.” You huffed but didn’t think anything of it.

“Okay, now that we’re all here- let’s get to that ship” Guards appeared as you spoke.

“On my command” Thor got ready to attack before Sif intervened.

“I’ll hold them off. Take them” She nodded her head to you and Jane. You walked with Thor not before noticing everyone’s threats to Loki. You made it into the ship and Thor had tried to control it, but he was being aggressive with it. He didn’t have the patience. You leaned over him and looked at the console. You pressed what you thought was the engine. The ship started. Thor looked at you confused as to how you guessed it, while Loki looked proud.

Thor had turned the ship hitting every column in the area, but one.

“I think you missed a column.” Sarcasm was dripping from his voice. While you giggled Thor growled.

“Shut up.” Thor had started flying the ship, very unstably. Loki knew he wasn’t capable.

“Look why don’t you let me take over? I’m clearly the better pilot”

“Is that right? Well. Out of the two of us, which one can actually fly?”

“Boys! Now is not the time! We’re being attacked!” You looked at Jane, she looked bad. At that moment she fainted.

“Oh, dear. Is she dead?”

“Jane!” Thor yelled, hoping she could hear him.

“I’m okay” Her voice was weak as she raised her arm slightly before it fell back to the floor. Loki looked behind us noticing the guards ships approaching.

“Now they’re following us.” The ship shook as you heard weapon fire.

“Now they’re firing at us” Loki wasn’t helping Thor’s patience but he was at least making me laugh in such a dire situation.

“Yes thank you for the commentary Loki it’s not at all distracting” His voice was strained, but rough. He manoeuvred the ship around avoiding whatever buildings he could but he hit a statue at its neck.

“Well done. You just decapitated your grandfather” Thor growled lowly before you made it over the waters. The ship was unstable, you had no idea how you were going to get put in this.

“You know, this is wonderful. This is a tremendous idea! Let’s steal the biggest most obvious ship in the universe and escape in that!” Loki raised his voice showing his frustration. “Flying around the city, smashing everything in sight, so everyone can see us. It’s brilliant Thor! It’s truly brilliant-” Thor then pushed him out. You heard his scream and got angry.

“Why did you do that?!”

“We must jump Y/N”

“Ju- You want me to jump?!” Thor had picked up Jane and stood next to the open door.

“Trust me!” You looked at him questioning everything. But you knew he was your only way out. You and ran towards the door, closing your eyes as you leapt out the door. You fell until someone caught you. You then felt the thud of Thor’s landing before opening your eyes. You looked up and saw Loki facing you. He placed you down, struggling a bit with the cuffs but he tried not to show it.

“You lied to me. I’m impressed” Loki smiled in Thor’s direction. Proud of his brother’s deception. Loki started piloting to his secret passageway for us to escape. You sensed many people coming your way. You turned around and saw another Asgardian ship approaching.

“More ships incoming!” Thor and Loki both turned to confirm your inquiry. Loki began to avoid the ship’s attacks while you ducked. You forgot your weapons back on earth. You didn’t think you would need them. Loki turned the ship suddenly heading toward a mountain.

“Loki?!” Thor seemed like he knew what Loki was doing, but you feared he would kill you all.

“If it were easy, everyone would do it” Loki seemed calm. He wouldn’t risk his life over this, He knew what he was doing.

“Are you mad?”

“Possibly” Thor held on to Jane while you held onto the side of the ship. The ship became unstable as he went through the passage until the ship made it to a different planet. You didn’t know where you were but you knew you would need a weapon of some kind. A gun, a dagger. Anything to protect yourself. The ship was gliding to our destination. You had calmed slightly. Seeing Loki’s aura pulse, however, made you concerned.

“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins”

“No Loki, you’re body is already reacting to just being near it. It would not only consume you, but it might kill you. God or not.” Your eyes narrowed towards him, he knew you were serious.

“How is she?”

“She’s holding up alright. For now”

“She’s strong in ways youd never even know”

“Say goodbye”

“Not this day”

“This day, the next, a hundred years. It's nothing. It's a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready. The only woman whose love you've prized will be snatched from you.”

“And will that satisfy you?”

“Satisfaction is not in my nature”

“Surrender is not in mine” You couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Your mind was focused on the other entities nearby. You tried to count them. You tried to control the power you had, Jane had sensed them to. The aether within her woke her up as dark elves entered the realm. She whispered the name of their leader. Malekith. You exited the ship following the brothers. Loki was still in chains. He lifted his hands, gesturing to his brother to remove them.

“You still don't trust me brother?”

“Would you?” Thor rolled his eyes as he freed Loki of his shackles. He rubbed his hands together before speaking quietly.

“No I wouldn’t” He conjured a dagger stabbing Thor. Your eyes went wide. This wasn’t Loki. Not the one who opened his heart to you just days prior. Thor was thrown off the hill and rolled down. Loki jumped down, ready to attack again while talking to Thor. As Thor summoned Mjolnir, Loki cut off his hand. Your hands covered your mouth in shock. You couldn't believe he would do that. Loki picked up Jane, and held her tightly making sure she couldnt leave his grip. He was bargaining with them. You ran towards them focusing on Thor’s hand, but it was still there. You could see the aura around his hand. It was an illusion. Making Malekith think that Loki was on their side. Malekith removed the aether from Jane. As she fell to the ground Thor yelled towards his brother.

“Loki! Now!” With a flick of his wrist the illusion faded and Thor’s hand reappeared. Loki shielded you and Jane as Thor tried to destroy the aether. Afterwards there was a giant force that would've injured you greatly if it wasn't for Loki. After the smoke cleared you looked up and saw the shards of the aether. It wasn't destroyed, but crystalised. As you three stood up, Malekith absorbed the aether. Making him more powerful than ever. He left for his ship while the others attacked. One of the aliens activated a grenade and threw it at us. Loki pushed you out of the way as it detonated, becoming a black hole, that was sucking him in until Thor flew past and grabbed him. You knew you needed to help. You might be a tactician but you were also a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. You were trained in combat.

“Loki! I need a weapon!” He considered the possibilities before conjuring another dagger and throwing it in your direction. Loki and Thor had the big guy. You had the grunts that were left. You held the dagger in your dominant hand before charging the grunt. You slashed at it’s chest before it jumped back dodging your attack. It attacked you and stabbed your stomach. You almost fell but you needed to finish this, You knew you had to act like Natasha on this one. You wrapped your legs around its head before flipping it onto the ground head first. Which knocked it out cold. You looked around trying to find the others when you saw a red beam destroying the last enemy. Seeing Loki on the ground made you panic. You tried to run over to them as Thor held Loki to his chest. You started crying, thinking of the worst. You made your way over slowly, jogging as fast as you could with the stab wound. Once you got there, you heard his last words.

“I didn’t do it for him.” Loki shut his eyes, as his breathing stopped. You waited for his aura to disappear. But it didn't. Once someone dies, their aura is no more. But his was still there. With tears streaming down your cheeks you narrowed your eyes. He wasn’t dead? But why was he faking it? You didn't know but you knew you had to find out.

“Thor! He has the aether! The conversion is upon us! We don't have much time!” Thor looked at His brother grieving. But he knew he had to fight for the 9 realms. For earth. He found a way to get to earth but insisted you stayed behind in Asgard until it was safe. You would have insisted on going with him but with your injuries, you would be no help. Using Nat’s move probably wasn't best suited for them, but you had to help. You agreed to return to Asgard with his help you made it there safely on your own. Once you got there your head felt heavy from the blood loss. You almost fainted then and there. But you were stubborn. You wouldn't let your body fail you. Not right now. You began walking the long distance over the bridge, keeping pressure on your wound. Ready to return to the palace you were determined to make it. You made it halfway before you saw soldiers heading toward you. Letting your body fall, you knew you couldn't take much more. You passed out before you were picked up and taken inside.

Taglist: @lovermrjokerr @lord-byron @lucywrites02 @violetica @quirkyreaderwriter @prettysbliss

[dognoselover]

Bloodstained Hands, Ch 2:

Kakashi shot awake in a panic, gasping for breath and covered in a cold sweat. His hands were trembling, and, for a long moment, he was disoriented. This wasn’t his room, or his apartment. Where were his pictures of his team? Or Mr. Ukki? Even his body felt wrong. But then, suddenly, Kakashi remembered where he was. When he was.

“Kakashi!”

His eyes widened at the sound of the sweet, sing-song way his name was called. No… It couldn’t be. Throwing himself from the bed, he rushed to the front door, ignoring the way his skull flared painfully and how he stumbled. Panting, he slowed as the front door came into sight.

“Kakashi, I know you’re in there. You didn’t show up for training today. Minato-sensei said you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I should bring over something for you to eat…”

“Why do you even bother?” Came a loud, familiarly obnoxious voice. Dread rose in Kakashi’s chest, threatening to consume him. “You know he’s not even going to answer the door.”

Unbeknownst to his teammates, the Hatake was only a few feet from the door. He could sense their chakra, weaker than he last remembered it, but still there, strong and steady. The wound in his heart begged him to open the door, to wrap them both in his too-small arms and beg for their forgiveness. Yet, he couldn’t find the strength in him to move, paralyzed by fear. The darkness within him too easily reminded him that he was the reason for both of their deaths. If anything, he should push them away. He should push them far, far away, and then maybe then they would be safe from the destruction that he caused everywhere he went.

Obito and Rin were freshly fallen snow, and Kakashi was soaked in their blood, trying to keep it from dripping from his fingers with every breath.

“See?” Obito broke through his thoughts. “I told you he wasn’t going to answer.”

“Hush!” Rin scolded. Kakashi silently approached the door, using every ounce of restraint that he had finely honed during his decades as a shinobi. “Kakashi, please, talk to us.”

His voice came through low and hoarse, like a hiss. “Go away.”

Unfortunately, his acknowledgement of their presence only encouraged Rin. “Kakashi!” She exclaimed. The happiness in her voice tore at his soul like savage claws, and everytime she said his name his resolve crumbled a little more. “I brought some miso soup, since I know it’s your favorite… It has eggplant, too! I-”

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“Oh. Alright…” Rin trailed off, and Kakashi could hear the dejection in her voice. Of course, if Rin was upset, Obito felt the need to jump to her defense.

“Why do you have to say that, Bakakashi?” Obito shouted. “You’re always so mean, and Rin was just trying to do something nice for you-!”

ooooh this is a cool section !! i’ll do my best to give a Good DVD Comment on it but i wrote it... at least a year ago so LMAO

the chapter begins with a nightmare and that nightmare ends with rin saying kakashi’s name when she was killed - and i liked the transition of her, in real life, saying it to him to wake him up. and kakashi’s freshly time traveled, so he’s disorientated and confused af. 

meanwhile, obito and rin are... concerned out of their minds. kakashi? sick? missing training? he must be dying. so of course they’re going to go check on him. but kakashi hasn’t actually seen them yet. it’s his first interaction with his formerly dead teammates (save for minato).

and he’s just confused, especially awoken from a nightmare like that, and his most significant memories of them are of their deaths, and he’s just not ready. not ready to accept this is his reality now, not ready to lock eyes with two people he failed so spectacularly and pretend like everything was normal, like he was his bratty 12 year old self who didn’t care when actually he cares so so much.

this is also the first time we see a theme prevalent throughout the first half of the story-- what does kakashi do different? does he hold them closer or push them father away? savor their presence or protect himself from another possible failure-- their possible deaths, again?

he just doesn’t know right then, so he pushes them away. he doesn’t have a solid plan of action and that scares him. he doesn’t know what he’s going to do and he can’t show them all this emotion that he has-- emotion that he’s not even used to dealing with himself --because if they see that emotion then they’re going to know something’s wrong and then they’re going to press him. press him for information he doesn’t have and isn’t ready to give. he just... doesn’t have any answers. and with kakashi the way he is, a strategic genius since he was a toddler, i imagine not knowing what to do is frightening. he’s always been quick on his feet, with a witty retort or a plan of action and here he’s got nothing. nada. the obvious tactical solution is to retreat until he does have a plan.

so he pushes them away. or tries to. rin is wholeheartedly concerned for him and wants to express that in a way kakashi would appreciate -- something practical, like a meal -- and she’s undeterred by his expected backlash. her concern for her teammate far extends the severity of his words, which she’s used to by now, and his barbs aren’t so much as barbs to her. she recognizes it for what it is: a defense mechanism. she also knows that he just can’t keep closing himself up but that’s pitted against her politeness and fear of upsetting him, which is why she gives up relatively quickly after kakashi insists that they leave.

obito, on the other hand, is vulnerable. he’s concerned for kakashi for once, not seeing him right now as a rival but a teammate in need-- because when, ever, has the prodigy kakashi seemed so human? --and when kakashi uses that vulnerability to push him away, obito gets understandably angry. he’s defensive of himself for being vulnerable, which was obviously a mistake since kakashi didn’t take the olive branch, and it presents as defensiveness of rin, even though she can well enough handle herself. why rin, though? well, we could just put gender roles into place and say something outdated like “he was protecting her” from someone she.. didn’t need protecting from. but in reality, he gets defensive over rin because he can’t get defensive over himself. saying that he didn’t like kakashi’s response is the same as admitting weakness, and 12 year old kakashi caught scent of weaknesses and exploited them like a bloodhound on a trail. and obito wants nothing more than kakashi’s respect, to see him as an equal. so if he shows that he’s concerned, that he’s hurt, kakashi would just see him as a crybaby plus some. since he wants to avoid that, shifting his protectiveness onto rin is the next best option.

ultimately it just presents a team dynamic that i thought was... fitting. obito and kakashi still clashing, right off the bat, as if nothing had changed although everything had changed. putting a bigger strain on their first true meeting. it’s all kakashi trying to juggle time traveling and his not-dead dead teammates and all this unusual physical pain he has in his left eye, while at the same time obito trying to handle kakashi and rin trying to handle the both of them.

i could honestly ramble about this a whole lot more -- i’ve already written a fuckn more in depth analysis of my own damn writing than i was expecting (why cant i do this on my college essays) -- but i think that about sums it up. can you tell i like introspection a whole lot? :)

[thelittlehansy]

How many things Hans share with domestic abusers ?

I just cant count the number time i read that hans remind them of their toxic abusive ex. Hans has already be link to "domestic abuser " in fanfic.  in some modern AU fanfic  i read Hans beats anna because you know...he is the villain. I also saw that there was some fanfic where Hans rapes anna and elsa 🤢 because you know....he didnt even kiss anna but he would totally do it because yeah....he is the villain.

And just people imagine the worst about what if hans succeed into marrying anna.  So lets back to one of my favorite things.

List 🤓🤓

This times how many signs hans share with abuser in the movie ? i took an article on the web about the subject.

1-CHARMING.

“Initially, he showers his woman with praise, adoration, and attention. His courtship is sweet and intense filled with phrases such as, “I can’t live without you.” He quickly pushes for an exclusive relationship or engagement.”

Yes he is charming ! There was love at first sight this is  very much possible hans said things describe above maybe he even means some of them because again...that scene when he is alone smile smitten  by anna under the boat. The only difference is that there was specific reasons about the fact that he ask quickly Anna to marry him he didn't have times the gates were going to be closed and he could said goodbye to his key to the throne this is why he propose so fast to anna. So the comparison with abusive relationship and what is describe above dont seems really honest as they was an explication to his behavior if he could have times to seduce her during a long time ,  he would have done it  i think (?) one the thing we know about him is that he is a very very patient person.

2. JEALOUS.

“He views other men as a threat to the relationship and accuses you of flirting with everyone from his brother to the mailman. “I know you are looking at him.” The irony is that he often is the one who is cheating.”

Behavior never show in the movie we dont know how he would have reacted to kristoff presence. when his show his "true colors" hans show us that he dont cares about anna and that   she is last of his worries.

X

3. MANIPULATIVE.

“This man is very intelligent. He knows how to detect your weak spots, and he uses your vulnerability and past pain to his advantage. “You were abused as a kid because you are so ugly.”

He never said such an horrible thing like what is described above but...he is smart he us manipulative he did use others people vulnerability ! So very much positive !

but again there is still these problem  about hans being manipulative ? ..who put totally in question hans manipulation in the movie toward anna and seriously put doubt about how much he actually manipulate anna.

 His smitten smile when she left also present in kids book who tell “ hans is smitten by the princess”  the fact that anna called him lunatic and not a liar in the book a  frozen of shadow. and hims admitted he did not manipulate her at all in a frozen heart

4. CONTROLLING.

He wants to know where you are going and who you are with at all times. He may check the mileage on your car or follow you to the grocery store. He often refuses to allow you to work because you might “meet someone.”

Behavior never show in the movie again once hans reveal his true colors he show us that he dont give a damn about anna.

X

5. A VICTIM.

“His poor choices are everyone else’s fault. When he loses his job, gets into a fight, or a business deal falls through, it’s always because of the other person. He is never at fault. “You make me hit you.””

Behavior never show in the movie when he reveal his true colors we dont know.

X

6. NARCISSISTIC.

“The whole world revolves around him. As the “little woman who is beneath him,” it is your job to meet his every need. He is the master; you are the unworthy slave. It’s invigorating for him to know that everyone around him “walks on eggshells.””

Behavior never show in the movie with anna or with the others people  also we dont know.

X

7. INCONSISTENT.

“Mood swings are a common trait for an abuser. One minute he seems happy and sweet, the next he is pounding his fist.”

Honestly i will not say behavior not show in the movie but more contradictory behavior hans really knows how to stay calm , tolerate frustration and Someone like that would have never succeeded  to did what hans did. I think He will act more like the duke of weselton if he had mood swings.

X

8. CRITICAL.

“No matter how hard you try you will never be able to satisfy this kind of man. He thinks nothing of degrading and verbally assaulting you. “You are a stupid, fat, disgusting tramp. You can never leave me. No other man would have you.””

Behavior not show in the movie at all.we dont know if we cant satisfy hans or if he degrade others people and verbally assault them. Then  again he left anna at the end he didnt tell her "no man expect me would want you" but the contrary he break her heart and leave her.

he said to anna that she was desperate for love and was willing to marry him just like that which was true and also an opinion shared by both Kristoff and Elsa and the audience.

the part when he said “you are not a match for elsa” he was responding to anna.

So thats left us with only one thing the “ oh anna if only there was someone out there who loved you”. and trying to deduce that from  this line Hans will said to anna the kind of stuff describe above is....extremely exaggerated. Behavior not show in the movie

not enough evidence.

X

9. DISCONNECTED.

His main goal is to isolate his victim from family and friends so that you are totally dependant on him. “Your family causes too much trouble for us. I don’t want you seeing them anymore.”

Again behavior not show in the movie he never tried to isolated anna when he show his true colors hans dont give a damn about anna anymore. Even the argument between the sisters was not intentional on his part anna arguing with elsa was far from being his goal since him what he wanted was elsa benediction and anna behavior was the last thing that he needed and just the fact that he wants to kill elsa as we all know is in order to be king not to isolated anna from her family. 

X

10. HYPERSENSITIVE.

The slightest offense sends him ranting. Everyone is out to “get him.”

Behavior never show in the movie  there was the moment with the duke of weselton  but the duke was not even criticized Hans but anna and Hans reaction was to assure his plan.

so we only have hans responding to anna that not this is her that is a not a match for elsa during his betrayal scene. So again based yourself on that and deduce “omg he is hypersensitive” is...exaggerated. We need more evidence. So in the end we just dont know again !

X

11. VICIOUS AND CRUEL.

A significant number of abusers harm children and animals as well as a partner. Inflicting pain and intimidating others is what gives him power. “I’ll kill you before I’ll let you go. If I can’t have you, no one will.”

Behavior not show in the movie he is able to show kindness to animals as he show it with Anna horse. We dont know about hans relationship with children and his whole relationship with animals. 

X

12. INSINCERELY REPENTANT.

He will swear to never “hit you again.” But unless he receives professional help and strong accountability it’s very unlikely that he will change.

Behavior never show in the movie the betrayal scene.

X

IN CONCLUSION : , we dont know. we just dont know if Hans had a behavior similar to domestic abuser with their girlfriend/spouse and if Anna would end up in a abusive relationship with him. 

honestly (that’s  only my opinion ) but judging by his behavior in the movie , his plans , his desire i think Hans would not have been an abusive Husband but an Absent Husband only interest by his job and not his queen since the start even if he liked Anna at some point his big dream to be king is what is the most important to him.

So  again  the only thing he has in common with domestic abuser is that he is manipulative but even that...hans manipulation on anna...is put in question everywhere in the beginning of the movie...books...vid��o games where it say he has a crush on her.All of the rest we just dont know or he saw contradictory behavior.

Hans never show us to be jealous , controlling, possessive, physically abusive , oversensitive , blame others and play the victim , oR inconsistent.  and even based on the movie we just cant affirm that hans is someone that verbally insult person since he never show that behavior again in the movie.

So hans acting like a domestic abuser is as true as a headcanon for someone who will like the idea of him being one. 

We just dont know how would have been his marriage with anna. All of this assumptions about hans characters to me really as based on the fact that we compare abusing someone and someone trust and put them in the same case.  This is not any better but this is believe  are two very different things. 

 i also have read lot of time woman said " hans was nice to anna and then show his true colors" then they compare that to abusive domestic relationship. But the thing is that an abuser once he show you his true colors he began to be controlling, jealous, physical abusive , emotionally abusive. Hans once he show his true colors. he leave anna he abandon her the comparaison is not very great here since in the end Anna yes would have trust issues but did not  suffer of abusive relationship victims suffer. 

We also learn think about Hans in his backstory in the frozen Franchise so yeah we dont have confirmation this is canon to the movie but this is very much canon to the frozen franchise and officially publish and approve by disney : He was not an abusive child.  he never abuse people on the contrary he was abuse by his father and brothers both physically and emotionally.  (the majority of people dont reproduce this behavior once adult but reject it) he Hates violence and is someone peaceful. He is not controlling over person but situation. He has all his life being bully because he is not cruel  and hates his father view on social darwinism and how he treat their citizens. He is used to criticized and be called a disappointment. He also dont play the victim. again the only thing confirm by his backstory is that he can be manipulative.

so i m gonna finish that post with that gif who show us that Anna is not scared of Hans. something again that rarely or just  dont have in domestic abusive relationship in real life.

[mommydragon-of-all]

2,4,8,18, 32,34,35, and 36 for Soren!

100 OC Asks

~

2. What is their voice like?

Right off the bat with a question i cant fully answer. How do you describe a voice?… Well, in DAI he rolls with the Male British Voice but it’s not really how i hc him…. Hmm… Well, it’s like, i guess on the deeper side but not that much - unless he drops a few octaves for… reasons. It got a certain purr to it, that also gets evident when drops deeper. On average, as he usually speaks in a loud and cheerful manner, sounding higher and clearer, you don’t really observe those deep tones his voice gains when he’s speaking relaxed or sleepy or seductive and such. That tingling purr is easily shifted to bone shaking growl territory though when he is angry and/or out for blood. yeah he’s an animalIf this gives you some idea….

~

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? 

Oh boiii, he got MANY. Yet few that he isn’t fast to admit and let people have fun on his expense, often even laughing at himself with them. But there’s one thing that comes to mind that he tries hard to change in stories.

He used to have very long hair, the exact dark blood red of their mother’s and he had pride in it, thick and strong and brilliant like hers, tied high with her ribbon the smol twins found around where she died (long heroic and tragic story). When his long hair comes up in stories or other chatting he admits that he had “lost it” a few years ago, and if pried further he only says that it was to a sharp dragon spike and fire.

His sister tells a completely different story than what people usually assume from that though, if you are worthy and buy her a drink for it XD

What actually happened is that he rolled into the campfire in his sleep, and his sister fixed his remaining hair into a passable shape with her dragon spike knife, hands shaking from laughter.

You know how he sleeps XD. Brain out cold, body moving around like an octopus, drawn to warmth. Touch is the only sense that has live connection to his brain and can sound the wake up alarm. Having a fire going is a big hazard, he learned the hard way even before the hair incident. On the fateful dawn this happened, his sister kept second watch as always, keeping one eye out and one on Soren, pushing him back under the small tent with her boot when adjustment was necessary. (when alone he ties his belt to stuff and sets traps that pain-jolt him awake if triggered). Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, no big or off movements far and wide, some birds waking, a fox sneaking by, Soren half curled on the tent post, nice and tight… A perfectly average quiet morning. Cold and humid, irking her since her watch started, by dawn the languid, teasing dance of the campfire’s thin flames didn’t help her bladder either. So she just figured she could take two minutes to take a piss. WRONG. In that two minutes Soren got brushed by a small breeze carrying the warmth of the fire, he pooled off of the tent post and unconsciously slid and rolled towards its source….His sister jumped back to their small clearing to Soren’s… well… blaring alarm, pants still halfway down, with a blade out, magic flaring, ready for anything… except for the sight that greeted her. Soren screaming curses in 6 languages while wildly rolling around in the damp high grass, head and shirt on fire.Oh how upset he was, and pissed XD And as he was muttering under his breath and fuming all day his sister poked him constantly with comments that his head appears to be smoking, does he need some more water, and the like.By next evening he was laughing with her, but tried all sorts of bribes to keep her forever silent about this incident. Naturally, he couldn’t succeed.

He soon got so used to his short hair that the newer grew it out again, not having to keep it in mind during fights and climbs and stuff not to mention its weight and maintenance proved to be a nice bonus. Plus he found his new looks easy on the eye. Some cut forms changed sometimes but length not really.

Part of why he doesn’t tell the truth is that he does not want ppl to figure his big weakness of sleep rendering him dead to the world, and not just completely vulnerable, but also endangering himself with his crawling around. Some rogue he is XD But proven friends always get the story from his sister eventually.

~

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

He ate all kinds of dishes that appear around Thedas as he grew up almost constantly on the road, so there were many that other parts consider weird. He finds this a curious thing. One normal dish to a coast of Antiva is a completely disgusting monstrosity to a mountain town in Nevarra, and so on.

But from an outside point of view the answer may be something like raw worms and the kind he a few times had to resort to for survival.

Or something completely different, considered weird, that he regularly does: eating predatory animals and even some monsters…. Often raw. Its actually his favorite. (can be blamed on all the blood magic work on his body, at least the craving of fresh blood, and the fact that he gains the most energy from meat, and he needs a lot of energy to run his boosted systems. He is kind of accidentally shaped towards a predatory animal by being enhanced. Nobody knows for sure how much this is the woken primal drives and how much just plain weirdness though XD)

~

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

Soren LOVES music. He enjoys all kinds of skilled performances, likes to sing too (average singer but got that pleasant purr going for him), but his favorite thing about music is the merry atmosphere it can create and the dancing.So, the upbeat good vibe bits. He loves how people light up from some good music and dancing and he loves to dance, be it a fast paced loud group activity or a sensual slow glide. heck his fighting style is sort of a dance too Music should keep the spirits up, he thinks, and he is pleased to see that it often does. Its like a form of magic in his eyes, and we know how he loves magic… and people… and warming hearts.

~

32. Pet peeves?

Huh, another hard question. A LOT of things tick him off, and he is hot-blooded with a short fuse when it comes to things he has a displeasure for. (a similar trait of the twins but sister dislikes moooore stuff XD) Mostly things of the rich and ignorant and the festering scum. …But also like, sitting at a tavern’s counter and witnessing a pig say some disgusting slur or abusive shit etc to the servant has his fist instantly replying to it in their stead. No prelude. So I guess those things can also be considered here, tho I honestly newer quite grasped the full meaning of this English expression.

~

34. Least favorite food?

Green stuff. Let the animals eat weeds, he’ll eat the animals.Oh and if something doesn’t have meet in it, it is not real food. If it has at least a decent amount of sugar, then it’s at least a snack.

~

35. Least favorite color?

That is something he doesn’t really think much of, but would probably answer with “some muddy nonsense”. Basically anything that looks dirty, faded, washed out or muddy. It reminds him of the dirty alleys, rundown shacks, the old, stained and thrown out rags he more often than not had to wear growing up and he HATED it, like he hates poor quality and crude stuff, and poverty in general.

~

36. Least favorite smell?

Well, bad odors obviously, but that seems like a too obvious answer so.. least favorite…hmm

Too strong stenches, even if it was meant to be pleasant. Like flowers that ooze like no tomorrow, or someone wearing a bucket of perfume. His heightened senses can’t handle it, makes him kinda nauseous, besides it masks a lot of things he could read from a person’s scent at any given moment. He doesn’t like not knowing things he is used to be able to.

It may be an interesting thing to mention that he also absolutely loathes the scent of food going bad. He picks up on it much sooner than normal senses would, long before it’s considered not good to consume anymore. This puts an extra strain on his feeding problem, with him needing to consume at least the double of what an average man of his build needs for a day, always needing to get fresh stuff.

 Thank you ever so much for the ask!  >*^.^*

[askthetriokzt]

Kodo’s Quirk

So there are 2 main things to Kodo’s quirk. The vines at her neck and the flower on her head, both of which have feeling though one is far more sensitive than the other. Her quirk could be classified as either Mutant and Emitter, though I would learn more towards Emitter personally.

The Vines.

The nubs on either side of Kodo’s neck are actually a pair of vines that have a max reach of 15 ft (50 meters) each and can be moved independently of each other. While they lack in raw power, they can still be used in a number of ways such as: striking, vaulting, grabbing, entangling, and climbing. As stated, the vines aren’t that strong, only about the same amount of strength that Kodo has herself, though by wrapping around something multiple times or using gravity or momentum, the vines could increase their strength. Kodo has an extreme level of control and mastery over her vines, to the point where they’re like an extra set of arms for her. Little to no thought is needed, just completely natural at this point. The vines, while smooth and soft to the touch, are actually quick tough and thick, able to take quite a bit more abuse before getting damaged, far tougher than her own skin, though still having a limit. Kodo is far from a tank or a wall. There are drawbacks though. She can fully feel with them, and that includes pain. If a vine gets too damaged, Kodo will just immediately have it retreat back into her neck for both safety and to heal (both her flower and vines have regenerative properties but are rather slow and finicky.) but could leave her vulnerable. 

The Pollen.

The flower on the side of her head naturally produces pollen of varies colors, though only 3 actually do anything but her opponents don’t need to know that. Kodo is immune to her own pollen but will always prefer to wear a pair of goggles for her Hero Costume since the stuff still stings if it ever gets into her eyes, which is way more often than she’ll ever admit. While the flower can produce many different colors and kinds of pollen, it can only spew out 1 at a time, needing a moment before it can switch over to a different one. By now, Kodo has a pretty good handle of her pollen, in the past it was a struggle to make it spew out the pollen consistently. Though she loses control from time to time still, such as when she’s startled (fear-induced-pollen) or a sudden sneeze. Keep your distance if Kodo is ever sick.

Green: Sleep Inducing. Needs to be inhaled or enter the bloodstream to work. Yellow: Causes muscles to tense up and (if a large enough dose) can even cause full embolization for a short period of time. Also needs to be inhaled or enter the bloodstream to work. Red: HIGHLY Explosive. When coming in contact with a spark or a high enough heat, the pollen will just combust and explode (smaller and weaker scale of Bakugo’s quirk) Other: Sometimes, just to throw someone off, Kodo will have her flower spew out a random color of pollen and she just watches them eye the pollen with fear and hesitation.

Drawbacks: At the end of the day, its all just pollen. While Kodo can put it to good use, and often stores a good amount of them in little pouches, its still just pollen. Gas Masks and Wind users just make it all useless. And while Kodo is immune, her allies arent. That and she isn’t immune to the fiery explosions that the red pollen causes, so its always a risky move to make.

The Flower

The final and most recent addition to Kodo’s quirk. Naturally, her flower absorbs sunlight and after a while of feeling like she was lagging behind her friends, Kodo decided to try to see if she could, somehow, use that. And long story short, she did, though it took a LONG time and plenty of trial and error and a LOT of messing up and frustration. By taking the sunlight that her flower absorbs, Kodo can condense it and channel it until its a ball of light and energy, and can use it as a long-range projectile. While the attack isn’t very strong, its still pretty useful, especially when most dont even expect to see it coming. At first, the process of making one took far too long for it to ever be considered battle-ready, but Kodo has been slowly chipping away at the time needed for it, and now its at a far more manageable speed. That and she can stockpile a decent amount of them. A few good hours of direct sun for her flower can create at least a dozen of her light attacks with only a few short moments of charge up. Though once the stockpile is run out, then she has to either deal without the attack altogether, or take the time to create the attack, which can range from 34 seconds in harsh sunlight, to even a few minutes or nothing at all in bad or low sunlight.

As for the drawbacks, its still an attack in the making. Granted is far more consistent and reliable now than it was during the early stages, but it still has its moments of either fizzling out or being difficult to aim properly, resulting in either failed charge up or missed shots. That and she needs sunlight in order to make it. So if she runs out during the night, thats kind of it. And she cant use her pollen while charing up or forming the attack.

Overall, while Kodo’s quirk lacks in raw power it makes up for it in spades with its versatility. Though it does give Kodo a major weakness, the cold. She’s far more sensitive to the cold than the average person, and if her body gets too cold for too long, it will cause her and her quirk, to feel rather heavy and can even prevent her from using her quirk altogether. And if the cold gets worse and persist, it can cause her body to go into a hibernation-like state. Guess its a really good thing that one of her friends has a fire quirk and is naturally quite warm.

[silent-of-spirit]

Tagging @ladylike-foxes by request

Introducing a new OC (Well, not new to me... she’s been around for a long while, just never announced. New to you though!) 

This piece is heavy on the emotion, like... heavy. Also I am INSANELY proud of it and the way I was able to convey a lot of abstract concepts that I usually can’t articulate. (Also the fact I wrote at all is kind of a fucking miracle.)

Please please PLEASE let me know what you think of this. I have a LOT of feelings for these two, and if you like them, I would LOVE to write more of them and their incredibly interesting dynamic.

Trigger Warnings: PTSD, Dissociation, very brief vague mentions of suicidal thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, annnnnd I think that’s it? Just wanted to be safe.

Faye Amell x Fenris - 4,870 Words

When first he meets her, he assumes she is Hawke – and looks to have been bested by a bear. She sits quietly in the foyer of the Amell Estate, hands clasped primly in her lap while Bodahn fusses over a basin of water nearby. She is caked with dirt and filth, limp branches tangled in her dark hair, and he thinks to comment on how uncharacteristic it is of her to care.

That is, until Hawke herself storms through the front door behind him, tailed closely by Anders and her brother. She greets him by way of a curt nod and breezes past, wrapping the woman he now knows as a stranger in her arms.

“Faye,” she breathes, relief and concern making the name feel heavy in the air. The woman does not react; she merely gives Hawke a blank stare that seems to be weighted with sorrow and uncertainty – as if she is not even sure the woman holding her is real. He cannot pretend to guess why.

Anders and Garrett had been huddled in some secret correspondence, but now the former stepped forward, signaling Hawke to step away. She does so, albeit reluctantly, and Fenris is left wondering why they treat this girl like a wounded animal. He watches the scene unfold in confusion, book forgotten in his grasp. He looks to Garrett, to Marian, seeking some sort of clarification – but they have eyes only for the dirty woman in their foyer and the mage who looks upon her with fondness.

It is different from the way he looks at Marian. There is no heat or reverence lingering beneath, but instead what appears to be a brotherly affection. Odd, Fenris notes, but he finds himself unable to muster the curiosity to ask why, his disdain for the man tempering any words he may have uttered.

“Well, if it isn't a lost Amell that found her way home,” Anders says. The words are gentle, careful, but hold an unmistakable familiarity. The mage offers her a warm smile – one of the few Fenris has ever witnessed from the man. “Did you finally sprout wings and fly away from that awful place, little sparrow?”

The words seem to spark something within her, turning her from placid statue to a woman with life and fire, a myriad of emotions crossing her face in the span of a breath. Confusion seems to be at the forefront – and fear – but they quickly fade as she surges from her chair and wraps her arms around Anders' neck, a choked sob tearing its way from her throat. He returns her embrace, stroking her hair while whispering soothing nothings.

Fenris again looks to the twins, questions plain in his eyes. Hawke finally meets his gaze, nodding toward the door to the library. He follows with a furrowed brow, hesitant to speak amid the strange tension hanging around them like a shroud. She closes the door behind them, leaning her head against the wood as she exhales a shaking breath. She is so rarely rattled, ever the pillar of strength and snark that keeps them all afloat. It bothers him – a strange sort of unsettling itch that rests in his mind.

“Explain,” he says, the word more clipped than he intends. He clenches his jaw against the brief flash of guilt. He does not know what is going on, and he hates not knowing.

“Our cousin,” she whispers, “We grew up together. Her parents were... unkind. She stayed with us often – became a treasured member of the family.” She turns, but does not look at him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Amells are not known for their family values. One summer when we were ten she just... didn't come back. Her parents had her carted off to the Circle.” She pauses, searches his face as if gauging his reaction to yet another mage in their midst.

“She is in a sorry state,” he says instead, crossing his arms.

“I'm surprised she's not worse off, considering the circumstances,” Hawke says, brow furrowing at the blank look he gives. “Y-you don't know what happened at the Ferelden Circle Tower, do you?”

He scoffs at the question, feeling almost insulted. “I do not make it my business to keep up with the affairs of mages,” he nearly spits.

She purses her lips, giving him a sour look. “It was overrun by demons. Mentors, friends, templars – those who survived were made to bear witness to their horrifying transformations into abominations. To kill people they cared for, even while they struggled with keeping the demons out of their own minds.”

He cocks a brow. “Demons that were no doubt invited by one of their own. They were weak.” She reacts so quickly that he doesn't even have a chance to defend himself before her fist connects with his cheek with enough force to send him staggering back. The pain blossoms a moment later, leaving him breathless with its intensity. He spits a bloody glob onto the floor, eyes filled with fury and shock as he clutches his cheek.

She glares back, unrelenting even as her knuckles swell and color. “I do not argue your stance on mages, as it is justified,” she pauses, seems to take a breath meant to collect herself, “but do not dare diminish what she had to endure. The horrors she was forced to face – within and without – very likely would have broken even me. You claim to respect my strength, so let that sink in.” Her gaze would cow a lesser man – likely make them lose their bladder – and though he stands his ground, even he has to admit that he hopes never to be on the receiving end of it again.

But he is too angry – too proud – for her chastisement to fully take effect. His cheek throbs, and he feels the blood well in his mouth again.

“You should go,” she exhales, seeming to shrink in the wake of it. She moves to reach for his face, but reconsiders and draws back, pain and guilt plain in her eyes. Just as quickly, her mask snaps back into place – the one she wears to hide her vulnerability. For some reason, it hurts more than the blow she struck.

He watches her retreat into the foyer, ushering the girl toward the washroom. He sees the way she reaches for Hawke, such wonder and reverence in her gaze amid the tears. Distantly, he wonders how long it has been since she could trust her own mind. He dismisses the thought and stalks out of the house.

***

When next he meets her, she is propped against the dog in the foyer, nose in a book as Marian and Garrett discuss plans over the table. Varric is already there – as is Anders, he notes with great distaste. They all discuss their next moves, the state of the city, reports from Aveline, and through it all Faye is silent. Even when directly addressed, she responds only with a nod or shake of her head.

And it is the same over the next several months, bordering on a year. She is silent, small, and prefers to remain unacknowledged, nose always in a book.

So she startles him the first time he hears her speak. She is in the library when he arrives, scribbling something onto parchment at the desk. Hawke won't be here, he knows, away on some mission. But his empty mansion seemed to press in on him, prodding at memories and thoughts he would not have see the light just yet. Independent study, Hawke called it, with her usual cheery smirk. Gives him something to do, she said. So, here he was, leafing through books in search of something close to his skill level.

He forgets he is not alone when he huffs in displeasure at yet another manifesto hidden in the pages of Hawke's library. He lets it flutter to the ground, heart leaping to his throat at the voice that suddenly sounds behind him.

“You dislike Anders.” Her voice is whisper-soft, but with an underlying grit that tells of her long silence, throat struggling around the words as it tries to remember how to speak. He isn't expecting the melodic cant, almost resembling the tinkling of bells. Then again, he didn't expect much of anything, so used to her silence he naturally assumed she was mute.

He clears his throat, tries to quell the shock. “I dislike mages,” he corrects. He waits for her to turn, to spew vitriol and anger like Anders – or to brush his misgivings away with jokes and humor like Garrett. He expects her to react like a mage, and the last thing he expects is for her to react like Marian – solid, reasonable Marian who sees both sides, then tells everyone to stop fucking bickering, Maker have mercy. I'm surrounded by children.

But she does.

“That's understandable,” she says without ever turning around or otherwise acknowledging him at all. She continues her scribbles, and he is silent – unsure how to handle the situation. She must register his confusion, because she continues, her words sounding heavy and forced – out of practice. “You are surprised I think so?” The quill clicks as she lays it on the desk and finally turns to face him. He realizes he's never truly seen her before, nose always tucked in a book in a corner somewhere.

Why he mistook her for Hawke that first day, he doesn't know. They share only a passing resemblance. Hawke is all sharp angles and smirks, mischief forever present in the quirk of her mouth, raven hair sloppily cut close to her head and out of the way. Faye is softer, lacking the distinctive edges in her face that the Hawke twins share. Her lips do not hold the same mirth – settling in thought instead of mischief – and her raven hair falls in thick waves down her back, streaked through with thick lines of grey that don't suit her age. She is thoroughly freckled, spots lightened from the lack of sun, but still obviously present – and likely the most striking difference between the two. Though perhaps it could also be their eyes. Both the same shade of that bright Amell blue, but Hawke's are bright and fierce, resembling glittering ice and holding the same chill. Faye... hers resemble the ocean – boundless, deep, a well of emotion and memory that thoroughly unsettles him. He feels like she is peering into his very soul, and he has to fight the urge to hide from her quiet scrutiny.

Hawke watches and hears, but Faye sees and listens. He finds he does not like this revelation – doesn't... trust her, or anyone really. Marian is the one exception, and even still he has his limits.

He watches, wary, and finally remembers to answer. “Perhaps,” It is spoken so simply, but the edge is undeniable. She does not waver in the face of his distrust, merely tilts her head as she regards him.

“You have faced much anguish at our hands.”

He clenches his jaw, unbidden. Of course Hawke would talk to her family, but he finds he does not want this woman – this mage – to know. She is an unknown in a tumultuous sea that already threatens to drown him at every turn.

He hates not knowing.

At his silence, she turns back, and the scratching of her quill fills the room again as he leaves.

***

She is in the library again, and apparently tearing it apart. There are books stacked on every conceivable surface, with barely enough room between the piles on the floor to navigate. Simple perhaps, for her... tiny little thing that she is. The shelves are nearly bare, and he is both shocked at the sheer volume of pages in the room and thrilled that the shoddy organization finally seems to be receiving a solution. She does not look up when he enters, though she never does. He supposes he is the only one to visit the library regularly enough that she just assumes it is he.

“Marian left a book for you by the fireplace,” she says. Her voice is stronger now, more practiced in the months since she first spoke. The gentle melody of it is soothing in a way, though that can be said for her entire countenance. There is nothing brash about the woman. She always seems to carry a quiet serenity that he envies. He burns hot and fast, quick to anger, quick to retaliation, ever seeking control. Hers seems as effortless as a stream – gentle and ever flowing, impossible to provoke.

But beneath it she seems hollow and fragile as cracked glass. He knows it to be there, having seen the same in himself. Fear drives them forward, keeps them alive, but it also keeps them from living.

He hates that he can see their similarities. It seethes beneath his skin, forms into anger; anger at her, at Danarius, at Tevinter and magisters and mages and circles and his Maker-damned life. He burns with it.

“We are nothing alike,” he hisses, seeking a reaction, something, anything that will allow him to lash out – to feel something – anything besides fear and uncertainty.

She does not even look at him.

“Are we not?” Her voice is level... unafraid of his fury. She continues cataloging, as casual as if they are speaking of the weather instead of the storm that threatens to break from him.

Anger... anger is easy. It can be used, controlled, molded to purpose. He craves the burn of it – craves the way it buries his fear, even if only for a time. He wants this, and she simply carries on as though it does not even matter. He wants to scream, to hit, to destroy, but he feels his anger slipping from grasp in the face of her ineffable calm. What reaction could he get? She would give him nothing.

Nothing.

“We are both slaves, Fenris. We may be borne of different masters, but the chains that bind us are the same.” He meets her eyes for only the briefest moment, but that is all it takes to see everything. The emotions she carries, the fears, the doubts, the horrors, the memories... what he sees is a direct reflection of the tumult that rages inside him also.

He doesn't want it – want this – common ground with a woman he can barely tolerate, and most definitely doesn't trust. He shakes his head and denies the camaraderie she offers, quashing the rising feeling in his chest that tells him he does not have to suffer through this alone. Alone is what he does best. Alone is where he is safe. No one can see the pain that haunts him. To allow them would be to dig his own grave.

Not even Marian knows the depths of his damage. His best friend knows nothing and this... this mage presumes to offer him solace.

Faye, a distant part of his mind gently corrects. He quashes that too.

Her face does not change as he leaves, but he knows how empty she feels. He doesn't want to.

***

Another year wanes, and Hawke's library, that mage, begin to become permanent fixtures in his life. He finds he prefers the days she is at Anders' clinic, away from her prying eyes that see too much. He revels in that quiet solitude, and yet at the same time he notices her absence in a way that confuses and infuriates him. He can count on one hand the amount of times they have spoken in this last year – since that day his anger failed him.

She never pressed, seeming as content in her silence as he, but occasionally he would walk through those doors, and she would be waiting with a book in hand. She would hold it out for him to take without a word, the intent clear in what remained unsaid.

I think you'll enjoy this.

And he would take it with a strange sense of begrudging gratitude, settling into the chair he claimed as his own. She seemed to be the only one in his circle who did not push him to speak or act, but merely let him be... and the comfort he found in that simplicity terrified him. They would sit in their opposite ends of the room and lose themselves in the words that danced across the pages, and occasionally she would write, the scratching of her quill as she modified Hawke's replies to correspondences or worked in a battered journal the only reminder of her presence with him.

He didn't – doesn't – like it, the feeling that settles into his bones. He cannot find a name for it, but it is unnerving, the way it stirs.

He begins to notice how uneasy her serenity truly is – sees how she uses it to hide from herself. An errant thought months ago made him wonder if she was tranquil, so many of her mannerisms reminiscent of the few tranquil he met. He sees now that it is an effort on her part, not to feel. He sees the way she tries to train herself to imitate it, to block out the world, to block out her heart and mind and commit with single-minded focus on whatever was requested of her. He wonders if she truly desires tranquility, and feels something stir at the thought. Do her demons torment her so?

He hates not knowing, but when it comes to her, all he wishes is to never see deeper – to never know what the depths of her soul hold. With her, he doesn't want to know.

But that tiny niggling part of his mind that seems to only react insofar as she is concerned tells him that he does. He doesn't like it. Her. It. This.

***

Another year passes, and he finds something that resembles contentment. He tries not to delve deeper, ignores the writhing mass just beneath it. There is routine. He goes on missions with Hawke, allows his rage to cleanse itself with every body he cuts aside, he plays cards at the Hanged Man and drinks too much and laughs, but it is always hollow. He finds himself in Hawke's library more and more often, unable to fight the draw he feels to the woman who practically lives on those shelves.

He hates that.

He ghosts through the days, waiting, seeking, coming up empty, even his rage unable to fill the void that yawns within him any longer. He has buried his hurt and his fear, refusing to look upon them. He is numb.

And when finally - at long last – he plunges his fist into Danarius' chest and clutches his still beating heart... he feels nothing. He has wanted this  far longer than he can remember. He should be elated... he is free.

But he isn't, and he feels nothing as he stares at the organ in his palm.

He doesn't like it.

His allies celebrate his freedom all around him with drinks and wild cheers, and the Hanged Man is bustling with life and noise but as he stares into his mug, there is nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

He falls into Hawke's bed seeking release, connection, something he does not have a name for, but he does not find it. He loses himself in her body, in that moment, and then so suddenly he remembers, and the pain that rips through him makes him long for that numbness again. Marian is confused and hurt, but he leaves anyway, unable to face what she had awoken. He tells himself it would have been crueler still to stay, to let her believe he feels something for her that does not really exist.

The darker voice tells him that using her was the most cruel of all.

He allows it to tear at him, allows the anger and fear and pain back in, and he screams. He destroys what little remains in Danarius' – his – mansion but finds no relief. He cannot bring himself to go to Hawke's home, cannot face his guilt at what he had done. He lets the pain rip him apart over and over and over again, agonizing over what he saw, what he knew, what he believed, what he lived. He welcomes it, and yet even after denying its existence for so long, the release of it does nothing to soothe his soul.

He wastes the passing days in his mansion, screams, allows his rage to blind him. He keeps asking himself why, why, why. Why can he not heal? Why can he not move forward? What is the point of this hollow existence, void of genuine connection and feeling. He is so angry.

And he is numb.

He doesn't know how to face the demons that plague him, buried now so deeply he wonders if he will ever be able to dig them out. He doesn't know how to allow the breaking of his walls, how to shatter through the forged steel they have become. He buried everything for so long as he ran, and now that it was finally over, now that he was free, he was unable to dismantle his own defenses. He is still a slave, bound by chains of his own making and he hates it.

He is hiding and he knows it, ignoring the persistent knocks at his door because how can he explain to people who will never know how he suffers?

No one knows how he suffers... save one.

He is restless, pacing for hours as he tries to decipher the need inside that he can't name, aware only of the aching loneliness that plagues his steps. He curses, throws a bottle at the wall, finds no pleasure in how it shatters, and finds his feet leading him down a familiar path of their own accord. He pauses before the door of the Amell Estate, cursing himself for ending up here, wonders how to answer the questions he know he will be hounded with. He almost turns, but his body seems to act on its own, chasing a need that he could not find. He watches as though at a great distance as his hand reaches and raps thrice. It opens immediately, Hawke standing on the other side with a look that suggests she had simply been waiting for him to knock.

A lump rises in his throat, and he can't breathe, can't think, he can't, and he doesn't know how to respond when she simply wraps him in her arms. But his eyes catch movement over her shoulder, and he raises his gaze to meet one of striking blue, deep and boundless as the sea. In her eyes he sees it...

Understanding, true and pure, the kind only one who has suffered as he has could ever give.

Somewhere within him he feels that wall crack, and it is enough to flood him with feeling – anger, sadness, fear, hopelessness, loneliness – and he finds that he can answer all of Hawke's questions, steeled by a force he never knew he needed, found in the person he least expected.

He finds that Hawke is not hurt by the circumstances of his parting, says she knows it would never go further, that she is in love with Anders – and he feels biting relief at the knowledge of it, so stark and profound – a keen reminder of how long he had not felt anything of the sort. She is hurt that he stayed away, she says. She was ill with worry, and when her questions threaten to overwhelm him, he finds her eyes. They anchor him and hold him steady, give him the strength he needs to respond in a way that Hawke could understand. He cannot tell her everything – doesn't want or need her pity and the confusion his words would cause. He cannot understand what roils within him, much less attempt to find the words to describe what he feels. Feels. So long he had been numb, that just this crack that allowed emotion to trickle threatens to consume him. He is tempted to seal it back, to revert to safety and familiarity, but again he looks to Faye and remembers the different sort of hell that lack of feeling had prompted.

He doesn't understand the hold she has over him, the way she can save him from drowning with just a glance, the comfort, the relief he finds he has been lacking. And looking at her, he realizes for the first time since his self-inflicted isolation that he does not feel lonely.

It is terrifying.

And more terrifying still when Hawke comes pounding on his door in the dead of night, eyes wild and scared.

“She's gone,” The words are barely out of her mouth before he is through the door.

“What happened?” He cannot hide the urgency in his tone, struggles with the residual confusion it leaves in his mind. He is panicked, unsure, something tugging inside of him with an insistence that leaves him breathless.

“Demons found a way into the house. We killed them, but they seemed to trigger something in her and she bolted. I don't know what to... I can't-” Her voice is tinged with desperation, tears welling in her eyes. He stops and grabs her by the shoulders, turning her to face him.

“We will find her,” And he says it with such conviction that the panic bleeds from her face, replaced with something like realization. He doesn't know what to make of it. She says nothing, but pulls away and runs toward the road to Lowtown. He watches her go, turning the moment she is out of sight. He ignores the thunder that rumbles ominously above, letting his feet take him to where he knows she will be.

Faye.

He doesn't recognize the feeling that swells in his chest, coupled though it is with fear. It is unsettling, though not unfamiliar. So often he had felt it in these last years, inexplicably drawing him to the mystifying woman who has ensnared his mind so completely. It was but an itch before - so long ago he can hardly remember – but now it tears through him like wildfire, threatening to consume him in the blaze.

I'm coming.

He does not heed the rain, ignoring the way it plasters his hair and clothes to his skin. She is alone. She is alone and breaking without knowing how to do so. He remembers the torture of it – how he almost ended himself simply to escape the pain of needing release and not being able to find it. He remembers how he could not crack that wall on his own – he needed her. Her understanding, her pain, her acute knowledge of the exact torment that plagued him. She gave him strength, allowed him to see that he was not alone in a world that seemed so very empty. With a single look, she reminded him how to feel, that he did not have to struggle alone. He doesn't have to. She doesn't have to.

And the fire blazes. He knows it's not real, but he swears it is guiding him, leading him, pushing him to her – the only other soul who can truly understand his battered heart, and the pain and fear that so damaged it. He can feel her.

He is rounding a hedge in the Chantry gardens, and there she is, tucked in a dark corner in hysterics. He doesn't pause, doesn't breathe, doesn't dare to think, simply moves until he is falling to his knees before her, pulling her into his embrace. She clutches him desperately, shaking and sobbing in his arms. He pulls her closer still, closing his eyes as he rests his chin on her head. His heart is pounding; he feels dizzy and sick but she's safe.

She is safe.

Somehow that is all that matters.

She is all that matters.

“I'm here,” he manages to say, choked though he is with emotion. He smooths his hand over her hair, presses his lips to her head. “You are safe. You can let go.”

And she does.

As she shatters in his arms, he feels that wall crack again. All at once he knows. He knows he can heal. He knows she can too. A day at a time, brick by brick, they can dismantle the walls that keep them trapped. He knows it will take time and pain – it would mean facing down the darkness and memories that torment them – but she is here, in his arms.

And that is all that matters. He can face the coming storm.

That's when he realizes what that consuming fire truly is – but he is no longer afraid.

[cookieswriting]

What Matters - Ch. 4

Rosaline found herself drifting between sleep and waking not long after checking the poultice on Benvolio’s abdomen.  His back would need to be checked when the physician and apprentice returned, as she was unable to turn him on her own and unwilling to risk injuring him further.  He’d been still for some time, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was in fact still alive.  Shaking herself to stay awake, Rosaline took a moment to consider their relationship.  So much had changed in the short time since they’d met; where she’d once hated the sight of him, she had since come to rely on his companionship.  She’d been so sure of his ill character then, blinded by her hatred for his family’s name, that it had taken some persuading for her to see the goodness in his heart.  If ever she’d attempted to apologize for her behavior, Benvolio had laughed, brushed it off, and reminded her that he’d been no better.  

The lady was returned to the present when her betrothed began to moan softly.  She looked up, checked his bandages once more, and realized that his discomfort was the result of an apparent nightmare. His distress quickly became more pronounced, and Rosaline stood quickly to tend to him.  Her hand settled carefully on his bare chest (had his state not been so dire, such would certainly be inappropriate...and enticing in a way she was not yet used to associating with her betrothed), and she pressed down when he started to fight her restraint.  “You are safe, dear Montague.”  His pulse pounded wildly under her touch.

“Rosaline!” he pleaded, hand coming around her wrist as his steel blue eyes snapped open.  Despite his weakness, his fingers were tight and he nearly succeeded in dislodging her.  His gaze, full of fear and desperation that stole her breath away, searched the room frantically before meeting her own.  In a beat, relief took over and his grip loosened.  His hand slid down her wrist to cover her fingers, holding her hand against his chest as if to reassure himself she were real.

“I am here. You are safe…” she hesitated, remembering the look in his eyes. “We are safe.”  As he returned to full awareness, Benvolio winced and pressed his free hand to his bandage.  His breath continued to shudder, and Rosaline felt tremors begin to wrack his body.  She reached up and stroked his jaw, heart aching for his pain and grief, desperate to soothe him.  Slowly, his breathing began to even out.  “Are you with me?”

Those stunning blue eyes fluttered open, clearer than she’d seen them since before the attack.  “Yes, Capulet,” he breathed tiredly.  She stilled the hand on his face, allowing it to cradle his jaw.  Benvolio leaned into her touch, staring at her as though he were afraid she’d disappear before his eyes.

“Did you see the attack again?”

“No,” he murmured, fingers reflexively tightening over her hand.  Rosaline stroked his chest with her thumb, canting her head to the side in silent question.  Her betrothed took a slow breath, and she was surprised to see the sheen of tears fill his eyes.  As she waited for him to speak, Rosaline wondered if he would be so candid with his emotions were he not in such a weakened state.  Benvolio lifted her hand from his chest and slid his fingers between hers, and Rosaline had to fight back tears of her own.  She was unsure if she’d be able to bear her betrothed returning to his respectful distance when he was healed and able to leave the safety of her room; the vulnerability he’d shown since initially waking up had created a whole new level in their relationship to which already she felt accustomed.

“I...I dreamt of my cousin, and Mercutio, and Juliet...even Paris, and Tybalt.”  He sighed and lifted his free hand from his injury to stroke her arm as he continued.  “They all, one by one, fell off a cliff and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Romeo was the last to fall, and he tried to pull you along with him. Finally I could move, and I caught your hand. My cousin too held fast, though, and I lost you as well to the darkness.” A single tear slid down his cheek.  Rosaline brushed the tear away, and waited for him to continue.  “I would not be able to live with the knowledge that you were lost to this horrible feud because of me. In all of the bloodshed that we've seen in this summer, you are the one who need be spared. You didn't want any of this and yet you were dragged into my disaster. For that I am truly sorry.”

Rosaline gave him a sad smile and shook her head.  “It is my fault that you lay here now, wounded as you are.  My aunt admitted to hiring men to kill you...and I fear it will not stop.  It is you, Benvolio Montague, who has been forced into the middle of a fray you did not choose, who has done no wrong save fight to protect those he loves.”

“You mean fail to protect them,” he retorted, voice laced with a bitter melancholy that frightened her.  “I was meant to guard my cousin with my life, had vowed to do the same for Mercutio...the Lord knows how often those two got themselves into trouble...and yet I am the one left breathing.”  His eyes dropped in shame.  “I cannot count the times I found myself wishing that I had joined them in death in the days...weeks following the tragedies.  I was left utterly alone, and had to read my uncle’s blame every time I looked in his eyes.”

Though she was not genuinely surprised by his words, the thought of him following through with his wish twisted her heart.  “My dear Benvolio, what happened to all of those we have lost is not to be on your shoulders.  I can say with utter certainty that neither Mercutio nor Romeo would wish for you to join them so soon.  You will never be alone again so long as there is breath in my lungs,” Rosaline vowed.

Benvolio stared up at her, something akin to awe in his eyes.  If asked at a later time, she would swear that there was some force that drew them together until their breath mingled; it certainly wasn’t a conscious decision. When the physician and his apprentice walked in just a beat later, both parties jerked backwards, the Montague with a low groan.  Rosaline felt heat rise to her cheeks, and a twinge of disappointment in her belly.  She glanced down to her betrothed, and knew when she saw the blush on his own neck that she was not alone in her feelings.

“F-Forgive us, milord, milady.  ‘Tis good to see you alert, Sir.  Lady Rosaline, I trust, as you did not come to fetch us while we slept, that there were no complications since we last assessed him?”

“No, Sir, I have recently reapplied the poultice to his abdomen, and found no sign of infection or fever.”  Benvolio watched her with a slight grin, and Rosaline pointedly did not look at him.

“Excellent.  I do not wish to have you turn onto your stomach, Sir Montague, as the effort to turn back over may prove excessive in your current state.  If we can position you on your side, the poultice can be applied and left to dry, then you can return to your back if you so choose.”  The man in question nodded, preparing himself for impending pain.  Rosaline leapt to her feet, hurried around the bed and lowered herself down beside him carefully.  When she could not find a comfortable and beneficial position while upright, she laid herself on top of the blankets and settled onto her side next to Benvolio, who was watching her with wide eyes.  

“Are you ready, Montague?” she questioned, trying to ignore the twitch in his lips when her voice wavered.  He nodded, clenching his jaw and reaching out for her hand.  Rosaline took it quickly, nodding over him to the physician and settling her other hand on his shoulder.  As the men across from her pushed, she pulled, ensuring that Benvolio need not strain himself and pull at his injuries.  He grimaced as she released his shoulder, clearly fighting a moan, and sweat appeared on his brow. Rosaline reached forward and caressed his skin tenderly, eyes trained on his as he clenched them tightly.  “The worst is over.  Are you ready for them to continue?”  He opened his eyes and nodded sharply.  She mimicked the gesture to the physician, and returned her focus to her betrothed right away.

“Thank you, Rosaline.”

As the physician worked, Rosaline whispered to him of more peaceful times, of memories she’d shared with Juliet, distracting him from the pain as much as she could.  They worked quickly, and Benvolio only flinched a few times before they were finished.  “The wound is healing well, I would like to examine it again in a few hours.  In the meantime, if you need anything we shall be in the foyer.”  Rosaline smiled warmly at him for giving the hurting man privacy now that he was awake...for giving them privacy.  The physician bowed to her, and both men took their leave quietly.  Benvolio squeezed her hand lightly, bringing her gaze back to him.  

“How do you fare?” she whispered, not daring to speak any louder in the minimal space between them.  She knew propriety demanded she get up, put space between herself and the man she was engaged to marry, particularly knowing how close she’d come to kissing him before the physician.  She knew she should release his hand, stop touching him...but it felt as though if she were to move, breathe, speak too loudly, the moment would shatter, and she was not prepared for that to happen.

“Well enough, my lady.”  His voice was low and rough, and make her pulse quicken.  He turned his hand just enough to settle his first two fingers over the pulse in her wrist, and his grin was a mix of affection and hunger.  She barely had time to ponder the intense shift in their bond before he was overwhelming her with a heated kiss.  

She truly should have stopped him the moment their lips touched, and yet...she truly did not care to.  In the slightest.  Rosaline responded eagerly, shifting closer to him until her elbow unintentionally grazed his wound and Benvolio spasmed. “Oh! Oh, Benvolio, forgive me!”  The lady clapped a hand over her mouth and rolled onto her back, turning her head to look at him.  His face, twisted in a grimace, was alight with mirth.  

“No, my beloved...it is I who needs forgiveness.  ‘Tis not appropriate for me to jeopardize your virtue, even if we are betrothed.”  He took her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles.  “Perhaps it will be best if you have the physicians come in...you look as though you need rest, and I will now be unable to find any myself with you so near.”  Rosaline bit her bottom lip, grinned when his eyes fixated on her mouth and he swallowed with difficulty.  “Go, Capulet,” he growled.  With a light giggle, Rosaline surged forward to press one more kiss to his eager mouth, and then forced herself up and out of the room without another look.  

If Cerimon or his apprentice noticed her disheveled appearance, neither commented, for which Rosaline was grateful as she hurried to the nearest empty quarters to attempt sleep.  The flutter in her chest and grin on her lips would not cease, and the lady Capulet was sure that she would find no adequate rest until she was wed.

[katekanekatekane]

I feel raw. 

(I also feel kinda sick, so I either am Having Emotions because im getting sick, or I’m Having So Many Emotions that i feel sick so that’s uhhh... annoying)

But old ass stuff has been coming for me lately and it’s a pain in the ass??

Like I read a twitter thread about stalking the other day and jesus christ it shot me right back. I hadn’t really thought about that being stalked had felt like in a long time and it’s so fucking gross. I remember being powerless and terrified and I felt for the woman talking about her experiences, I really fucking did. 

But that’s some old ass shit!!! I haven’t been fully bothered by my old stalker in like 4 years, those experiences are things that I’ve processed and aren’t part of my life anymore. Like... I don’t... need to worry about this..??? WHy must I have emotions about it?? Now??? 

And like... christ

Last night i was tag ranting because I always post on mobile and this site is a joke and i cant do stuff beneath a cut like this on mobile. And I... I worked through it all a little by ranting that way but I NEED to express why last night was so upsetting, but even verbalizing it is super draining and the idea of talking to someone else feels like a burden and I don’t want to put that on the people that I want to talk to... And ugh. Okay, let’s do this.

Last night.

I signed up for a risograph printing class. 

I was excited. 

I waited and splurged on it and I really want to learn riso.

Classes like that are socially scary for me, because new place, new people, new things,  but I wanted to do it, so I went out on the limb. This is also something that a younger, less healthy, me would have AGONIZED about before hand, but the me of today didn’t waste time worrying about ahead of time, because that’s not productive or useful. 

So, I go to the class.

The teacher seems nice.

My classmates seem okay. 3 out of the 5 of us already knew each other, so that makes stuff a little awkward for the other two of us, but whatever.  

I’m making small talk. Again, this is something that a younger me never would have dreamed of. Being brave enough to make small talk with strangers and to start conversations myself is leaps and bounds past the stuff I would have been able to do even a few years ago.

So, the teacher goes over the basics. I’m excited. Nervous, because my work hasn’t been super inclined to sitting down and shooting from the hip lately, but fine.

I start working.

I get excited about my project. 

It’s different than what everyone else is doing, but I think I can make it work, and it seems like a fun thing to make. I’d rather try and fail to do something I find interesting and care about than just bullshit around and make art I don’t give a shit about because it’s easy.

Cool, okay.

So, I’m drawing and prepping longer than my classmates. My classmates were all getting up and starting to print while i was still drawing. That’s okay. I have two hours of class left, I can make this work. 

I prep my different colored masters.

I go up to the riso for the teacher to help guide me through my first print. I’m the last to start.

(also note all 5 of us are sharing one riso, so we’re all taking turns, and other people are inclined to wait around up close by the machine for their turns-- something that is socially kind of a nightmare for me because uhhh I don’t want to be rude and people waiting like that makes me inclined to rush and make hurried choices.)

I grab a stack of paper to print on. I notice, once the teacher has already loaded it in, that the paper is cut and stacked a little crooked, which seems like it could be bad. It’s kinda too late, printing is already happening. I figure, “okay, whatever. It’ll be okay. I don’t mind the colors being misaligned.”

Also, note, I thought I was playing it cool that I was a little nervous and anxious. I was apologetic and stuff, but not anything that out of the ordinary for a new student. But that teacher, bless her heart, was astute as FUCK and in the worst possible way. She kept comfortingly being like “it’s okay” but in a way that showed me that she clearly saw me as shaky and uneasy, even when I was keeping it together pretty well. Or I thought I was keeping it together. So that’s not a Great sign. I don’t love my weakness being visible when I wasn’t trying to be vulnerable. 

I finish printing color #1.

I go back to work on the next level color master. I’m hurrying a little now, the end of class is getting nearer.

Eventually I go up to print this level and the teacher rejects it. It’s the alignment is off. Shit. I wasted all that time and have to start over.

I go back and make another, the end of class is getting TOO close. We have like 30 min. The professor is both hovering a little and avoiding me, clearly worried that I won’t finish. I am RUSHING. I decide to ditch doing a third color. This next level is going to be mediocre and weird, but it’ll be okay. I’m stressing about the time wasted on the ditched layer.

I’m waiting to use the riso with the others. She gets me in between people because I’m so far behind. Which, while nice, puts me on the spot again and doesn’t feel great because I’m clearly the artistic runt of this liter. Which would be fine if it wasn’t being broadcast to everyone else and I wasn’t getting special pity treatment.

We do a test proof. It’s bad. The alignement is awful. But everyone is standing around me and clearly wants to get more of their own prints in and I”m behind and being a pain and clearly getting special pity treatment, I don’t want more special pity treatment or to take more time from my classmates, so even though it’s AWFUL I say to just go ahead and print.

The teacher asks if I’m sure. Her face is full of sympathy and pity and she’s watching me like I’m a wounded animal. She sees the  fragility that I’m trying to hide and I hate it. I know that part of anxiety is always over reading what other people are thinking and feeling but I could SEE it on her and that’s what really fucked me up about last night. It wasn’t just my brain, so I couldn’t just write it off as my brain. This woman was seeing things that I didn’t want her to see, and instead of politely ignoring them for my pride, she was treating me like a fragile thing. 

I say yes to printing because if this moment lasts any longer i”m going to have an anxiety attack.

I go ahead and print and the prints start coming out and look unsurprisingly awful. She knows this. I know this. The others looking on, sympathetically, know this.

She gives me a pity compliment. “Oh, it looks kind of cool like this. This is one of the cool things about printing--” 

All artists have done this. We’ve all tried to be gentle with someone who’s work is a mess and is falling apart and looks terrible but we don’t want to be mean or hurt them so we dig for pity compliments. Pity compliments, while well intentioned are the devil. That makes me feel a thousand times worse than if she’d said “Well, it’s off, but this is your first time. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

I’d rather admit defeat and learn from it than someone pretend something awful is good to protect my ego.

And to make all this worse, the printer starts messing up. It’s grabbing more pages than it should, and misprinting already misaligned pages. She gets me to feed them back through. It does it again. She has me do it again. This is awful. What was already embarrassing and terrible is being prolonged, and each time I get more panicked, which only makes this worse. 

One or two of my classmates join in on the pity compliments. I want to die. I thank them, grab my prints, and bolt.

The teacher stops me, “Are you sure you don’t want to do a third color?”

It’s 10 till the end of class and other people who are WAY ahead of me and clearly want to do their own prints. I say no. 

I don’t want to take more time from other people. The piece is already ruined. She gives me a pitying look. She’s sympathetic. 

Others start printing. Good. Good. 

I went and hid in the bathroom for a minute to take a breath and cut down on social stimulation. I’m trying not to cry. I promise myself I will make it to my car before I cry. I wash my hands and fix my hair and pretend I’m okay.

I made it to my car.

But, okay. I know that, in the scheme of things, that this night was nothing. It was a little mess up that shouldn’t matter. But it hit a nerve.

What is the nerve?

Treating me like a weak, fragile thing. 

I’ve been that weak, fragile person that she saw. But I thought that I wasn’t that anymore. I thought that I knew that I’m not. 

I have come so. far.

But that didn’t matter. How much better I am now didn’t matter at all. 

Me as I am now, to her, was the same as the weaker, more fragile person that I once was. She didn’t see the trembling, or the stuttering, or the sweating that I would have been doing 4, 6, or 10 years ago. She didn’t notice that I tried to make small talk with her to alleviate the awkwardness of last night, and didn’t see how much better that was than the lip biting silence and shuffling that I would have been doing a few years ago.

My strong was her weak.

And she fucking saw me.

That’s the worst part of all this.

If she hadn’t noticed, that would have been totally fine and perfect. Or if I had been reading too much onto her, I could have gone home and been like “nah, that was on me.”

No.

She saw my anxiety and fear and reacted the WORST possible way that someone could react to me and it made me want to disappear.

I would have taken her pretending not to notice. I would have taken her actually not noticing. Hell, I would have taken her being rude or openly hostile and cruel. But pity. JESUS CHRIST, pity. Pity means that she doesn’t think I’m strong enough to handle being treated normally, and that makes me want to vomit. She saw me, and she saw weakness, she saw fragility.

I can scream all I want about how strong and solid I am now, but that doesn’t matter a fucking inch because what she saw is so telling.

Regardless of what I think I am, what other people see when they looks at me shows what the world sees. What those not measuring by growth see. 

And I... I know I have weak moments. I know that I have moments of fragility or open anxiousness or being obviously sensitive.

But this moment was barely on that scale. I was doing pretty well for me. I thought that I was doing okay.

But she clearly didn’t think so.

So that’s uhhhh awful.

And seriously, she was super nice. I’m not upset with her. I’m just upset, and upset with myself.

Nothing has changed, I’ll keep trying new things and pushing and trying to be brave. But this hurt. This hurt a lot.  

I was really knocked down a peg. Didn’t realize that I needed to be knocked down but uuuh apparently I did. 

So

I’m okay. 

I’m just sore. 

But I’m okay.

(Or I will be.)

[sarahburness]

Why I Can’t Always Be the “Strong One” and What I Do Now Instead

“You are not your struggles. You are the survivor who keeps moving forward in spite of them.” ~Lori Deschene 

My mom was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder when I was seven years old. It’s a chronic condition that doctors say can be managed but not cured. The symptoms included manic high energy, depression, delusions, hearing voices, reduced need for sleep, and loss of touch with reality.

There were many times of stability for her, when she was on the right medication, taking it routinely, and attending regular psychotherapy. But if any of these elements were missing, those moments were often short-lived.

She was the type of woman who would speak to anyone in eyesight, make an instant connection, and fill the atmosphere with the kind of joy and laughter that would make anyone think of happy times.

For me, as I knew her well, any extreme traits that did not resemble these were signs that her body was not responding to the medicine and she was having what doctors call an “episode.” These were the times I knew she had to be hospitalized for stabilization. Some episodes were milder than others, but all resulted in my sister and I having to make the tough decisions, for my mother’s well-being, that deep down inside hurt us to the core.

We were like the three amigos, my mother, little sister, and me. We had a powerful bond, and my mother, being a single parent, taught us to be strong, independent, confident women. Growing up, I didn't know that my mom having her episodes would become the norm, and taking her back and forth to the hospital would become routine.

Years later it would never get easier, and each time felt like the first time. Each time I had to put on my armor jacket of strength, suck up my feelings of sadness, and be strong for my mother when she was not able to do that for herself. I had no idea back then that learning how to be so “strong” would eventually be my downfall.

I remember my first time taking my mom to the hospital. My heart raced and my chest filled with so much pressure it felt as if I was about to explode. I was filled with such overwhelming sadness, anger, and helplessness that I couldn't even express if I wanted to. It wasn't the time.

As we sat with my mother in the emergency room, waiting for her to get called back, everything moved in slow motion. Her rage of being taken to the hospital without her initial consent filled my ears with such vulgar slurs and hurtful words that I regularly had to remind myself it was her “condition” talking, not her.

Life can put us in situations where we are forced to be strong even when we feel weak inside. Society will give you the impression that being strong is a good thing. We are programmed to show strength and not express our weakness. It’s almost this hidden outlook as if expressing your weakness will allow someone or a situation to break you, and once we are broken, we can’t put the pieces back together.

We become so good at portraying strength; we fool others into believing that we have everything under control and do not need help. But, as I found over the years of being the strong one and continually putting on my armor jacket of strength, I was doing more harm to myself than good.

Here are some lessons I've learned since realizing that being the “strong” one is not always the best solution:

1. Don’t isolate yourself from others.

There were many times when my mother's episodes were extreme, and I didn’t want to share my feelings with anyone in my inner circle. I felt like no one would understand what I was going through, and it felt like I was in a battle all by myself. Unlike a physical disease, there are so many negative stigmas that can come with having a mental disorder. The fear of both my mother and I being judged and ridiculed was enough to keep my emotions and thoughts to myself.

During these times being social was the last thing on my mind. I avoided social outings with friends and family like the plague because I felt like I was going through things they wouldn't understand.

The more I isolated myself, the more toxic my mind became. When I was by myself, I would constantly dwell on my negative thoughts. They would race through my mind all day, and it was extremely hard for me to see the positive.

On the days when I did have a brief interaction with my friends, I was no longer the voice of reason but instead the “Debby Downer” who no one wanted to be around. The calls eventually slowed down, and my circle of friends became smaller and smaller.

Contrary to what I believed, when I finally decided to open up it made a world of difference for me. When I told a close friend the details of what I was going through, she said she could sense something was wrong with me and extended her listening ear. Even though she wasn't able to directly relate, she had a close friend whose sister had a similar diagnosis, so she was able to understand my concerns and offer a few stress management tips.

This one little moment speaking with my friend felt so freeing. I was finally able to open up to someone and not feel as if I was in a battle all by myself. Moments like those helped me realize that isolating myself was not aiding my strength but actually adding unnecessary stress.

When you isolate yourself, you tend to feel like you’re in battle alone and forget that it's innate for people who care about you to want to be there for you. Your friends and loved ones will be able to sense when something is wrong and will naturally want to offer support. By opening a dialogue, you might be surprised by how many people can relate in some way.

Even if someone is not able to directly relate, there are hidden messages of encouragement that you can receive when you least expect it. Allowing yourself to be around others during these times can make a shift in your energy, which can help make your days brighter.

2. Don’t hold your feelings inside.

I think one thing many tend to forget is that holding your feelings inside doesn’t make them go away. When you bottle your emotions inside you are allowing the pressure of the build-up to take control of your body. These feelings cause more harm than good. When worrying becomes excessive, it can lead to feelings of high anxiety and cause you to become ill. Stress, according to the American Psychological Association, is the leading cause of some of the most severe chronic diseases.

In the early years of my mother’s diagnosis, I would allow stress to consume my life. When high levels of stress would occur, I frequently became sick. I would frequent the doctor for stomach pains and was soon told that continuing on that path could result in causing a stomach ulcer.

Being “strong” does not mean that you need to keep things bottled up with no outlet. This is an unconscious thing we tend to do without thinking about the long-term effects. It is vital that we allow ourselves to handle the crisis by finding a positive outlet. Meditation and exercise can be great tools to use that will allow you to release the energy needed.

3. Let yourself be vulnerable.

In every healthy relationship, there must be a sense of vulnerability. Whether we’re talking about a romantic relationship or a friendship, vulnerability is needed for each person to be in their truth and for the connection to be genuine.

When you are put in situations where you have to be strong at all times you tend to build a wall up, what I like to call the “wall of protection.” This is a wall that builds over time and grows as you are forced to overcome more adversity.

The more you are forced to be strong and fight your battles, the higher the wall gets. In these moments of struggle, you are forced to take on an intensive militant mindset, figure out the problem quickly, and find the solution. You have no room for errors or mistakes. Because you are the strong one, your mind thinks if you allow a mistake everything will crumble.

I spent years unconsciously pushing people away without knowing it. I was accustomed to handling every battle that came my way on my own. My “wall of protection” eventually turned into this hard exterior that pushed everyone away, including men I was dating. It shielded my soft, playful side and turned me into someone who was a pro at masking her emotions.

How can you have a genuine relationship with no vulnerability? How can anyone get to know you if they only see and understand one side of you? Eventually, that relationship will drift away because it has no foundation to stand on.

By putting on your strong masquerade, you block others from seeing the real you. Without allowing someone to get to know you, including your fears and what makes you happy and sad, they are just getting to know your representative, not your true self.

What if you didn't have to fight the battle alone? By allowing yourself to be vulnerable and admitting when you are going through hard times, you allow yourself to receive love. And love is by far the most prominent weapon one needs to overcome whatever obstacles come his or her way.

About Lauren Marie Williams

Lauren Marie Williams is a transformational business coach for ambitious women and new entrepreneurs. She created a Morning Routine Plan that will help you make a powerful shift in your life in only five days. You can download your FREE copy here www.bit.ly/theultimatemorning.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/why-i-cant-always-be-strong-one-what-do-now-instead/

[misscasper3]

50 Questions To Ask A Girl If You Want To Know Who She Really Is

Found this article online awhile back and finally feel like answering the questions

1. What’s one thing that’s happened to you that has made you a stronger person? Leaving an abusive 6 year ‘relationship’

2. What’s one thing that’s happened to you in your life that made you feel weak? When I was 12 I was kicked out of my parents house which I believe is the start to my fucked up need to be loved and needed by someone else.

3. Where is one place you feel most like yourself? My apartment

4. Where is your favorite place to escape to? The woods or under 5 layers of blankets in my bed

5. Who do you think has had the largest influence on the person you are today? My dad ❤

6. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be? To be able to shut my brain off and cool down. I overthink every detail that someone says or does and I think I create issues that weren’t there. Also Id get a nose job if I could lol

7. If you had one day left to live, what would you do first? Any thought that I kept to myself, I would say it to the people it was meant for and then walk away before the person could respond back. Then, after everyone hates me lol, I would hop on the next flight to Los Angeles, go to the beach, and sit in the ocean until the end of my last day.

8. What decade do you feel you most belong in? I dont see what’s wrong with living in the time I am now??

9. Who are you closest to in your family? Why? Probably my Dad. I lived with him for a long time and he was there for me for every milestone I reached. He always took my side when things went wrong, and always was there for ANYTHING I needed, without question.

10. Who is the one person in this world that knows you best? I couldn’t answer thar exactly. Certain people know certain things about me.>

11. What is your favorite quality about your best friend? She’s there to listen when I need to rant. Even when I’m being stupid.

12. When you were younger what did you think you were going to be when you grew up? A singer for awhile. Then I wanted to be an interior decorator, but I dont think I really understood what the job really was. I just liked rearranging my room all the time.

13. If you could identify with one fictional character (from a book, show, or movie) who would it be? This question requires way too much thought. I have no clue.

14. Do you easily accept compliments? Or do you hate compliments? I dont see what’s wrong with compliments, I just don’t know how to respond sometimes so my words may come out weird.

15. Is your favorite attribute about yourself physical or non-physical? Non

16. What is your favorite physical attribute about yourself? I like my skinny waist and wider hips. *I would have said hair color, but I wasn’t exactly born with purple hair so I dont think that counts*

17. What is your favorite non-physical attribute about yourself? I am understanding. I try to look at the whole picture instead of the current situation.

18. Do you believe in love at first sight? No. You cant love someone truly until you know them inside and out.

19. Do you believe in soul mates? I dunno. I believe some people definitely are meant to be in someones lives for a purpose, whether to teach a lesson and go or to participate and stay.

20. How seriously do you take horoscopes? I dont want to believe that the time and place I was born is supposed to judge my personality/fate.

21. Have you ever been in love? How many times? I have been in love. Twice. The first time I dont think could really count though since it ended up being a Catfish story. Does it count? If it doesnt,then once.

22. What makes you fall in love with someone? when they can make me laugh and forget about my bad day(s). Also if they aren’t judgmental of my actions and they try to understand why I do the things I do. Really like when people aren’t judges of my every move.

23. What does vulnerability mean to you? What has the ability to make you vulnerable? Ugh.. Vulnerable to me means, helpless. Needy. Small. A diary that was opened without permission. Bringing up hurtful times makes me vulnerable. Bringing up stupid things I’ve done, or times I’ve fucked up makes me vulnerable. The people who are the closest to me, who know a lot about my past are the ones that are able to break me down in that way.

24. What’s one thing you’re scared to ask a man, but really want to? why is it such a big deal for you guys to “be the man” in situations. Why do you feel that you have to prove your manliness?

25. If you were a man for a day, what would be the first thing you do? Shave my head with clippers. Its socially acceptable for guys to be bald haha

26. What do you find most attractive about each sex? I really like how guys are just bigger than females. Like big bears standing next to a tiny bunny. The size difference I think. I think its weird if a guy is the same size as me. Girls are obviously more sensitive and emotional, so. I guess I’ll pick that as my answer.

27. What’s one thing you’d love to learn more about? How the brain works basically. Like what makes people do or feel things. The science side behind depression or happy feelings.

28. What is something you’ve never done that you’ve always wanted to do? Travel out of country. Be brave enough to go on a trip alone. Zip line.

29. Why haven’t you done it yet? Mostly money. But I am just nervous for some reason. I think I just dont trust myself to make certain decisions by myself because a lot of times when you go somewhere new, you obviously dont know the area so you’re kind of guessing on where to go, what to do.

30. If money didn’t matter, what would your dream job be? Doing behind the scenes runway hair/makeup, photoshoots. Movies.

31. If you had off from work today, what would you do? I would go to the beach.

32. What was the last thing that made you cry? A fight between my boyfriend and I.

33. What was the last thing that made you laugh? I dont remember exactly.

34. What is your favorite memory? My dad making a speech at my graduation party about how proud he was of me and then he started tearing up

35. What’s the last thing that REALLY embarrassed you? I can’t think of anything that I really cared enough about to make me feel embarrassed.

36. What is your biggest fear? Being a loser in life. Giving up on goals because of my internal battles with myself. Being alone in life overall. I enjoy my alone hours, but I’m talking about fearing being alone IN GENERAL.

37. Do you have any regrets? What’s your biggest one? When I was about 13, 14ish I let my boyfriend at the time tell me I can’t be friends with a certain person. He made me cut off ties in order to stay in a relationship with him.. I regret so much that happened on that day. What I said to that person was hurtful…It hurt me to say those words and I know it hurt that person too. I was literally crying as i was telling this person to leave me alone because I didnt want to say goodbye yet I felt obligated to listen to my then boyfriend for some reason. I caused so much pain to that person that effected things down the road and I can never take it back… And I regret not answering him back when he texted me on holidays. I regret not taking his number when my mom offered it to me. I regret so many things that happened to that person because of me.

38. Have you ever broken a law? If you haven’t what is one law you’d love to break? I mean I’ve got two speeding tickets. I’ve gone in “private property” places just out of curiosity.

39. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done? I’m not a risk taker.

40. Would you have a conversation with a stranger? I do everyday at work.

41. Would you tell a stranger they have toilet paper hanging from their shoe? Or their dress tucked into their underwear? (Or anything else that is embarrassing to be seen in public)? Yes definitely. If that happened to me, I’d want someone to tell me.

42. What’s your favorite joke? Dunno

43. Are you a dog person or a cat person? I love both but lean towards cats.

44. If you could be any animal, what animal would you be? A bird so I can fly wherever I want.

45. What’s one show, movie, or book, you’re embarrassed to admit you enjoy? I used to like Bates Motel.

46. How do you think your parents would describe you as a child? Girly girl. Picky. Hard working (Mom just told me last week).

47. If you could go back to any age or time of your life, what age or time would it be? I was just thinking this in the car. Usually when people wanna go back, they say a happy time. I 100% cannot think of a time that I was so so happy and stayed happy longer than one or two days. Even if I was enjoying myself that day, there was ALWAYS something inside at the end of the day that just ate away at my soul hiding behind the ‘happy moment’.. This thought seriously depresses me.

48. What’s something you believe in that not everyone else does? I believe that when you are with someone, you are not 100% committed if you are okay with looking at other girls/guys and seeing them in a sexual way. Other people say “as long as they dont touch, its ok” or “nothing is wrong with just looking” but I believe it is fucking wrong on so many levels because that is showing desire for someone else other than the significant other. Call me prude or whatever the fuck you want.

9. What’s one thing you would say that makes you unique from other people? My brother told me that I am ALWAYS somehow able to pull myself out of every fucked up situation I’ve been in. Idk, does that really count as unique..? I guess something else would be that I literally put my entire soul into someone when I am in a relationship. I would do anything for that person. Is that unique?

50. What is one thing you feel your life is missing?  I feel like I’ve lost my passion for almost everything. I used to be so sure of myself and proud of what I wanted to do with my life and now its all a big question mark. My life is missing set goals and passion for doing something with it.