life full of torture

since i bought the world of thedas volume 2, naturally ive spent a lot of time going over fenris’s page. its made me think a lot lately about how absolutely heart breaking varania’s betrayal is in act 3

of course theres the fact that shes the only connection he has to his past life, his only family within his grasp, and she rids him of any possibility of that part of his life being positive. to think he was so excited to have something.

but leto gave up so much for his family? of course he couldnt have known that he was going to be subjected to a life full of awful agony, rape, and torture but he mustve known that it couldnt have been great if danarius was willing to grant a boon. and there were many things he couldve asked for, selfish things, but all he wanted was for his family to be happy. he was willing to give up his very life and personhood for that. 

such is life that it didnt work out for varania and his mother when they were out of slavery but she really throws it in his face. implies that everything he went through was for nothing

theres a line that got me: “Leto carried some apprehension about Danarius’s ritual, but was comforted by the knowledge that his sister and mother were free and happy.”
we dont know how old he was when he underwent the ritual, but its likely that he wasnt any older than 18. he couldve been a kid and there was no way that making the decisions he did was easy. but he thought it was worth it, for the sake of his family’s happiness

anders also has the nerve to imply that fenris is angry because hes jealous of the fact that varania is a mage, not because she told him he deserved his life of torture, asked for it, told him that his self-sacrifice was worthless and he shouldnt have bothered

but no matter how much it hurt, through his sister’s betrayal (and potential death) and danarius’s death, he finally has a clean slate. there are no longer any ties to his past life. a weight has been lifted and itll take him awhile to straighten out but at long last, he can build himself a new life and become whoever he wants to be

No but you don’t understand

Remus spent 12 WHOLE YEARS thinking Sirius, his very best friend, the carefree guy that somehow always kept him sane, the furry black dog that playfully barked at him and accompanied him whether it was full moon or not betrayed and murdered his two other best friends

And he’s so angry and bitter and sad and he can’t even think about all the fun things they did those 10 years together because it tears his heart apart and he refuses to let anyone near him, not only because of his condition, but also because he’s convinced he can’t trust anyone, EVER

And so year after year he keeps adding walls because this time nobody will rescue him from his lonely life, his inability to keep a joob, the everlasting torturous full moons

And then in one night he learns that it’s not been Sirius. It’s never been Sirius. And Siriius stares at Remus when he lies on the ground in the Shrieking Shack and in that one second Remus needs to trust the man he learnt to hate for 12 solid years. He needs to break down those carefully built walls for someone who once was his best friend - and they need to rebuild that friendship all over again

Remus still has trust issues and keeps reminding himself Sirius is the good guy now and he’ll never tell Sirius that those hollow haunted eyes break his heart every single time and it makes him want to run away but they actually meet quite a lot in the caves where Sirius hides with Buckbeak. And in those anxious, hungry-filled long days, Remus and Sirius both learn to love again.

Three Little Words

Warnings: angst, car accident, blood, death

Word Count: 2158

Summary: Imagine that you are driving in the Impala with Dean, and you get in a really bad car accident.

A/N: I didn’t have a request for this one, but I felt like doing a really angsty one, full of feels. So prepare yourselves.

Metallica, of course, was blasting through the Impala’s speakers as Dean sped down the road. It was just you and Dean in the car, as Sam had caught hold of another case, which he insisted he needed to thoroughly research into, meaning he stayed back at the Bunker, while the two of you went to investigate a case nearby.

But as you sussed out the victims of a supposedly winged creature almost killing them, you came to the conclusion that they were just stoned hippies who were seeing all kinds of crap in the darkness. So no case at all. Just a small town trying to make headlines.

You were on your way back to the bunker, sighing every couple of minutes because you were getting weary and tired, as it was the late hours of the night. A headache began to pound in your temples, so you turned to Dean, who was thoroughly enjoying his music selection.

“Hey Dean!” you practically shouted through the music, “Could you please turn it down? I’m getting a headache.” He looked at you for a few moments, before registering your words, and turning the volume down.

“Are you getting soft on me now?” Dean smirked, as his attention went back to the road, “Can’t even handle a little Metallica?”

You laughed, “Shut up,” giving Dean a punch to arm. He brought his attention back to you, “Is that how it’s going to be then?” He started tickling you, in spots he knew you were weakest. You starting giggling, batting his hand away from you.

While Dean was getting you back, the Impala slowly drifted into the other lane. A small truck going at full speed honked its horn to get either of your attention. Dean’s eyes snapped back to the road, and in a desperate attempt to get away from the truck, he swerved the car to the side. But it was too late.

You heard the smash of glass and the crash of the truck into the side of the Impala, which was the side that you were seated on. The Impala was pushed backwards due to the impact of the collision. Luckily, the truck had braked completely so it didn’t collide with the car again.

Silence. The silence afterwards was when you registered what just occurred. You realised your eyes were closed, which you didn’t remember closing in the first place. You slowly blinked your eyes open to the scene around you. Your head was lying on the dashboard, your head pointed in Dean’s direction. You took in his appearance. He was conscious, thank god, and taking in his surroundings just as you were. His eyes connected with yours, and they instantly lit up with fear. Dean slowly lifted his head up, before hastily trying to unbuckle his seatbelt, (which luckily unbuckled with ease).

You tried to do the same but you couldn’t. You physically couldn’t. Your body felt exhausted and weary, and you could feel the warmth of blood trickling down your forehead. Dean noticed that you were struggling. He quickly leaned over and cupped your head in his hands. You felt an immediate pang in your neck, which initiated a chain reaction of overwhelming pain to overcome your entire body. You cried out in pain, with tears trickling down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, hey Y/N,” Dean comforted with watery eyes, “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to get an ambulance to come and pick us up, okay?” You tried to stifle a small nod in response. He looked up, out of the front window (at least what was left of it), and called out for the truck driver to call an ambulance. Then Dean’s attention was immediately back on you. You could hear the murmurs of the man calling for assistance. And that’s when it began to fade.

Fatigue overcame your body, and your eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier. You tried to keep them open, but it was becoming a harder battle as every second passed. Dean noticed your eyelids beginning to close.

“No, no, no, come on Y/N, you gotta stay with me. You have to keep your eyes open. You have to keep them open Y/N.” He gave your head little shakes in an attempt to keep you conscious. Dean continued to reassure you, but his voice was slowly fading out. You could see him yelling at you now, but it just sounded muffled. Your eyelids became too heavy to keep open any longer. Darkness overcame you, and you blacked out.

The ambulance arrived minutes after you fell unconscious. Dean frantically jumped out of the Impala, and ran around to your side, ignoring the throbbing in his leg, before opening your door. He turned your head to face him, despite your unconscious state. Ambulance officers scrambled out across the scene, most of which ran to the Impala. Dean was desperately trying to keep it together, but almost lost it when the officers asked him to move away, so they could exit you as quickly and as gingerly as possible.

Dean could do nothing but watch the officers carry your limp body onto a gurney, before following it to the ambulance. They strapped you into place, as the ambulance sped off down to the hospital. They also lay Dean down on a gurney next to yours, as they observed Dean’s leg dripping in blood, which he hadn’t taken any notice of as he was running on adrenalin.

Connecting all sorts of tubes to you, they set up a heart monitor to stabilise your condition. Dean didn’t take his eyes off you, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath.

It killed him to see you like this. He didn’t understand how someone so bubbly and fun and beautiful and so full of life, could look so tortured. It killed him to see the girl that he cared for, slowly slipping from his grasp. But what killed him most, is that he never even told you those three little words. Those three words that he wished he could have told you months ago, but could never bring himself to say.

In what felt like minutes, the ambulance jolted to stop at the hospital. The doors flew open, and you were wheeled out first, leaving Dean behind calling out your name, struggling to get out of his gurney to which he was strapped. As he watched you go out of sight, Dean slammed his head against the pillow in defeat.

It had been three hours since you were admitted into the hospital. Three hours since you were taken into surgery. Three hours Dean had been waiting, for you.

He had been cleared for any major injuries with his leg, so he got by with a few stitches. Oh how he wished it was you who was just getting stitches. Instead, you were battling for your life.

Dean had called Sam as soon as he got to the hospital. Dean didn’t say much to him, except that they were in a car accident and were at the hospital. He couldn’t find any other words to describe the detail of what happened. He just didn’t want it to be real.

Sam arrived within the hour that he was called. He stayed with Dean in the waiting room, exchanging very few words. Neither of the brothers had broken down yet, as Sam was staying strong for Dean’s sake, as Dean was just barely holding onto his tears.

A male doctor walked into the waiting ward, “Um, anyone for Y/N Y/L/N?” Both brothers instantly shot out of their seats and made their way over to him. Sam spoke, “Um, yes, how is she?”

The doctor looked at Sam and Dean with a grave look as he said, “The injuries she suffered in the crash were quite major. She has been lucky to hold on this long. Unfortunately, her condition has only worsened. Her heart rate is slowly decreasing, because of the amount of blood loss experienced.”

Dean couldn’t speak, so he just continued to observe the doctor for any signs of good news. Sam noticed Dean’s lack of speech, so he asked, “So what does this mean? Can we see her?”

“It means that her heart could give up at any moment, and there is nothing we can do about,” the doctor continued, “You can see her in room 126, just on the right.” The doctor gave both brothers a sad smile and a nod before returning to the surgical ward.

That’s when Dean ran. He sprinted to the room 126. Sam stayed behind in the waiting ward, because even though you and Sam were best friends, he knew Dean needed his time alone with you, while you were still breathing. Even if it was only for a few moments.

Dean watched each room number flit past him until he approached the bold numbers reading: 126. He breathed to regain composure and prepare himself to what he may see, before finally entering your room.

He saw you lying there, connected to all sorts of machines that were trying to keep you alive. He saw the way your chest was moving up and down, but not in the way it usually should. It was going much slower, and gentler.

Slowly, he made his way over to your bedside. He pulled up a chair, and sat down right beside you. Your upper body was propped up, so the blood that was still pumping through your veins could circulate your body. Your face looked drained of colour; sickly white with purple splotches of bruise from the beating your head took.

Dean couldn’t handle seeing you in pain, not when he himself was alive and healthy. That’s when the first tear was shed, which slowly ran down his cheek. He hadn’t cried the entire night, but was always close to breaking point. And seeing you like this was his breaking point.

He desperately grabbed your hand for some form of support as his throat wracked with sobs. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, and he knew that you may never wake up, so he began to speak, still clutching at your hand, unable to look at your almost lifeless face.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed, “I have no idea where to start. I could maybe start with how perfect you look every morning in the warm glow of the sunshine. Or I could start with the way you laugh so hard that you literally fall to the ground in laughter. Or even the way you…” He stopped suddenly, when he felt movement in his hand; your fingers gently squeezing around his.

Dean looked up to see you slowly blinking your eyes open. You parted your lips, breathing out softly, “Hey Dean.” Dean smiled through his tears, as he brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

You managed to stifle a small smile despite the aches of pain that were all over your body. You tried to speak again, but could feel the shortness of breath in your lungs. You tried not to show any panic, so you attempted to breathe slowly in and out, to conserve what little air you knew you had left.

Dean coughed to clear his throat. He needed to tell you everything, just as he was doing so before. But most importantly, he needed to tell you those three little words he’d kept to himself for so long.

“Y/N, I need to confess something. Something that I’ve been holding back for a long time. I know I’m not one for chick flick moments, but I have to do this. Y/N, I…” His speech was interrupted by the sudden beeping of the heart monitor beside you. Your eyes began to widen, as you could feel your inability to breathe.

Dean let go of your hand, reaching his hands to your face, cupping your head in his hands, just as he had done before in the Impala. You continued to struggle as you attempted to gasp for air, shaking in the process.

“Come Y/N, you gotta stay with me, you hear?!” he assured forcefully, “You are not going anywhere, not on my watch, not today!”

The shaking stopped.

The heart monitor’s constant beeping came to a single long beep.

Dean watched the life drain out of your eyes, as your whole body became limp.

He just stared into your eyes, hoping and wishing that you would smile and tell him that it was all a joke. But you didn’t smile. You didn’t even blink.

Dean slowly closed your eyes, as silent tears rolled down his face. He brought your forehead to his lips, gently kissing your delicate skin. He then brought his own forehead to yours, and just held it there.

He just sat there in the silence of the room, before whispering, “I love you.”

And there it was. Those three little words.

I’ve read many concerned posters’ thoughts about how Eleven shouldn’t be rushed into boys or a relationship because of the sheer amount of mental, emotional, and even physical turmoil she’s lived with her entire life.

And I agree. Eleven has lived a horrific life, full of manipulation, torture, and darkness, a life that no one, let alone a CHILD, should EVER have to lead. Eleven deserves light and love and comfort, peace, support, care, HAPPINESS!
And she found that with Mike Wheeler. And he found that with her too! THAT’S why I love them together. That’s why I ship them. Not to rush Eleven into a relationship, but to reunite her with the person who brought those things into her life. They were there for one another and it is my sincere belief that they will continue to be, especially as El works through the repercussions of her former life.

I’m not trying to say that without Mike, Eleven would never have found those things. Look at Benny. Look at Joyce. Both showed her love. But Mike and El have a deep bond of friendship and love because they were the ones who were there for each other through the horrors of that week in November 1983. This bond was founded on an unconditional and mutual desire to protect and care for the other person. That desire was joined and augmented by friendship and then love. These three things are the reasons Mike and Eleven will continue to share that deep bond. And never mind that they are twelve years old; why aren’t twelve year olds allowed to experience those feelings? Because they do experience them and their youth should not be cause to ignore those important and valid feelings.

Whatever it is that the both of them will have to work through, the important thing is that they will always be there for one another. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I’m here for.

The Freak Show


He was in his cell like always. People came and went. Visitors and staff. Some children where in the crowd. They couldn’t be older than 10. How old was he even? He didn’t know. He was in here for all his life and all the memories he had were full of torture and days without food. At least he had his friends, he thought. They were snakes. Real snakes. Not like him. He was human. Okay part human and part snake, or so he guessed. His skin was like that of a real snake thought. And that’s why he was here. Because he was ‘abnormal’. Because he didn’t ‘fit in’. He was ripped out of his thoughts by a child, not older than 5 maybe 6. It looked at him like he should do something. Then it screamed and knocked wildly on the glass. Wordsworth hissed at the child. But it didn’t stop. The man in the cage noticed that the snakes grew distressed. So he walked over and put a hand on the glass. The kid stopped and began to cry. At least it stopped screaming now. The child ran to their parents and if looks could kill he would be dead by now. He didn’t care thought. He crawled back to the other side of the tiny room and tried to sleep.

A few days passed and there was a show planned. A freak show. He would have to go on a stage and perform with his snakes. It wasn’t the first time so he wasn’t nervous. In truth he felt glad that he could finally leave this cage for once.

The day of the show came and he performed. It was a dance with the snakes. When he was finished he heard applause. But something felt strange. It felt like someone was looking at him from a distance. He brushed it off as nervousness.

Sometimes I get annoyed at the little to no options I have eating out then I remember that the animals we are defending have absolutely no choice in being born into a life full of routine torture, enslavery and premature, organised slaughter.

It really puts everything into perspective.


“Im Not Picture Perfect” - Calum Fluff

Another follow, another like. Once again your heart broke a little when you were innocently checking Instagram to see Calum more interested in the model figures of hot blondes and sexy brunettes than your not so perfect weird selfies and cute doggy pics. You were a world away from the pictures he had all the way down his time line, sure it was just pictures, just a look and a double tap to “heart” it, but it hurt. It made you insecure and paranoid, scared to look in the mirror and conscious of every shape and curve of your body. It made you doubt every time he had told you how beautiful you were, taken a second glance when you entered the room and times you caught him staring. Before this had all started you felt all the worlds he told said you were, but now doubt and worry was present inside and you couldn’t help wonder if you were not good enough anymore.

“Babe? Babe?…Y/N?!” Dropping the phone from your hands you looked up to meet a set of concerned warm brown eyes. So caught up in overthinking Calum had came home to find you in the same position he left you. Yet now there were now unknown tears pooling under your eyes. Panicking you did your beat to blink them away as he dropped onto the sofa beside you wrapping his arms tightly round your frame. Cringing up at his touch, he felt it pulling away.

“Babe?” Sounding hurt, maybe just as hurt as you felt go he seemed nervous like he was scared to touch you again, instead leaning down he picked up your phone turning it over so his eyes met the screen. Grabbing it off him you stood without looking at him, too embarrassed of your insecurity, too scared to look at him.

“Y/N…” You were aware of his footsteps behind as you sobbed trying not to cry, climbing the stairs and ignoring his calls as they became only a mumble in the background.

“Baby…please.” Reaching your shared bedroom you stopped in front of the mirror forgetting the boy who followed and began to feel sick comparing yourself to the many girls you’d studied. Tangled hair tied in a bobble, pale skin and bare faced. You’d made no effort this morning as these days nothing you did was enough to meet the standards. One of his sweaters drowned your body, your legs covered with a pair of skinny jeans. You were the complete opposite to those girls, tall, tanned, bikini ready. Their eyes bright and bodies toned, happy and full of life whereas you felt dead taking in your own sight. Tortured, you’d spent the last few months taring yourself apart, till you came to now, a bubbling mess who’s insides churned with self consciousness and self hatred.

Appearing in the mirror Calum’s taller frame shocked you out of your own head, his arms reaching out for you. Touching your shoulders he came closer and wrapped his arms around you, his head resting between the crook of your neck.

“Whats wrong beautiful.” Tensing again, you bit your lip at his words your hands fisting with defensiveness.

“Beautiful? Is that what i am? Beautiful?” Whispering, your face was drained of emotion and voice strained.

“Of course you are.”

“Why are you lying?!” Screaming the words you pulled away now facing him as he stood shocked, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I cant do it anymore! I cant be them! Those girls! I cant! Im not like them, I’m plain and boring. I don’t have a bubble butt and highlights in my hair. I don’t spray tan, and double D’s and…i just.” Backing away from him you bumped into the wall defeated. Moving towards you he wore a guilt ridden look, his eyes heavy and watery. Nearing he reached to take the phone from your tight grip, looking at it his eyes closed and he sighed deeply.

“Im not picture perfect Calum, i wish i could be for you but i cant. Im sorry…” Clenching his jaw you watched as he chucked the phone at the opposite wall, the crashing and smash of the glass making you jump. Keeping no distance now he was close enough for you to feel the heat of his body, taking your face in his hands he studied your teary eyes and flushed cheeks before crushing you in a safe, warm embrace. Holding so tight you breathed out feeling him rub your back and place light pecks against the top of your head. Shooing your small gasps he pulled back pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m so sorry, the pictures…they’re just pictures, nothing more. Pointless and stupid pictures. They mean nothing to me, but you on the other hand mean everything to me and i’ve hurt you so much. You are beautiful Y/N, your stunning and every time i see you i can’t believe your mine. You know the difference between your beauty and theirs? Yours is real, so real. Theres is make up and hair spray, filtered and shallow, but yours…yours is natural and effortless, from your messy bedhead and the tired eyes that make you so adorable to your soft skin and evenly shaped body. I might look, but your the one that gives me chills when i catch you fresh out the shower, makes my heart race when you smile, makes me baffled that your all mine, something so perfect is mine..” Taking your hand in his a small chill ran down your spine at his words, a tear falling from your eye as you wrapped yourself around him. Squeezing so tightly because you never wanted to let go, he hadn’t meant to make you insecure. You knew that all along but slowly over time something that started off small ate away at you inside becoming a mass of ugly thoughts of yourself, thoughts that Calum never meant, ones that would kill him to know you had.

“Im sorry…i just wanted to be what you wanted and i just never compared to them, i got scared you didn’t want me anymore…”

“I will never not want you! Don’t you say that, don’t ever think that. Im sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feeling his words so meant and real your heart beat with less pain, starting to slowly ease the insecurity inside all you needed was him to take it all away.

“Its okay Calum…”

“No its not, i did this…but i swear to you i’ll make it right. I’ll remind you every day just how beautiful you are to me, and i’ll never let this happen again. I love you so much, too much to see you hurting. ” Sobbing once more, but this time with relief he wiped the tears away looking into your eyes. Whispering how you loved him back he smiled and stood tall lifting you over his shoulder in the process as he walked across the bedroom.

“Calum…” Voice cracking from being emotional you giggled slightly with wonder of what he was doing. Placing you down on the bed with a small bounce you flicked your eyes up to him who leaned down to kiss your lips making your shiver and smile sweetly into it cupping his face and keeping him near to you.

“I’m going to show you just how beautiful you are..”

Martial arts saved my life as a young girl. Gave me the physical strength and mental will to go through hell back and forth many times. And thus, for reasons outside my control, I turned into a clandestine fighter. As I rose from a life full of neglect and physical torture, I ended up doing a lot of awful stuff from a very young age. 

Now, as a young adult, martial arts have once again saved me: this time not from any attacker, but from myself. An hedonist fighter without ethics. I recovered my mind and was given an opportunity to nourish my heart, rescuing whatever sense of real kindness, compassion and humility I could’ve had buried in my mind. And after all this time, I can finally say I’m stronger now, and for the right reasons.

I still deal with strong guilt issues and painful memories every time I close my eyes as I practice qigong, but at least I don’t turn my head away from them anymore.

I belong here.

And I cannot be thankful enough. 

anonymous asked:


Yes I have a desire to live a life full of experiences but not if those experiences support exploitation, torture and murder of innocent beings. Besides, life experiences for me would be things like skydiving, going to Hawaii or volunteering in India and not eating some dead animal. x