butilikemyhats-blog-blog

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Indefinite Hiatus

Alright, so in case there's anyone who still pays attention to this blog, I'm not planning on coming back to it any time soon. Roleplaying on Tumblr stresses me out, and I never feel really satisfied with the plots it creates - I've been RPing here since 2011, and kept trying because it seemed like nobody wants to RP anywhere else anymore, but I've never really enjoyed it. Skype is my preferred medium, and if you'd like to write with me, you can reach me at IndolentPipe there.

That said, I'm leaving my blogs up as archives, because they both contain posts I am still fond of. Who knows, maybe I'll end up coming back to them someday, when I get desperate enough again. We'll see.

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avannaamatus:

   Dorian was too caught up in thinking to see the hug coming, his eyes snapping open in surprise. Skinny arms were wrapped tightly around his torso before he could say a word, and he found that he needed to say none at all. He could feel a face pressed into his chest, the embrace desperate and warm. 

   And then Cole stepped away, the brim of his hat purposefully shadowing his eyes once more. Dorian only smiled, as he had not been hugged in a long time, and he placed a hand on the spirit’s shoulder.

   "My little hideaway is always welcome to you if ever you need somewhere quiet," he offered. "I’m sure that listening to people in the tavern all day must be taxing. I hope that it may prove to be a comfortable getaway for you. There are those who find your company and your voice somewhat comforting."

Cole nodded, grateful - he liked the library. It was calm, and quiet; the hurts there were muted by the stories filling heads, people distracted from their daily problems by those of characters real or fictional. 

"Thank you, Dorian. I will visit when I can." Cole smiled vaguely at the mage; shuffling his feet side to side once more, awkward beneath his gaze. "I will be -- alright, now." 

Notions || Closed RP

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OutOfCompassion;;

My Cole muse has been so uncooperative lately. :( I'll get to replies soon everyone, promise!!

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Play with us! Join with your URL

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OutOfCompassion;;

Happy Munday :') Photos of lil ol' me below the cut!

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twicebound replied to your post “OutOfCompassion;; Reblogs nsfw memes onto wrong blog SHIT SHIT SHIT...”

[ OMG thank god tbh ill be honest i was side-eyeing that so hard lmfao ]

ironbovine replied to your post “OutOfCompassion;; Reblogs nsfw memes onto wrong blog SHIT SHIT SHIT...”

{ I was wondering }

[[ I'm laughing adn crying at the same time 

I'm so embarrassed I THOUGHT I WAS ON NERAMANA'S BLOG,,,,since I was just spamming replies there,,,,,,

I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I've never reblogged a nsfw meme before tho jfc ]]

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OutOfCompassion;;

Reblogs nsfw memes onto wrong blog SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT --

[butilikemyhats-blog-blog]

OutOfCompassion;;

Bedtime;

Drafts: 0 Starters: 8 Memes: 0

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antivanambassador:

"It’s quite all right," she said, having calmed down almost immediately once she saw who it was. A tinge of guilt washed over her. The boy was probably only trying not to disturb her as much as possible. But still, ground rules had to be laid. "I would appreciate it very much if you could knock on the door before entering. And wait for me to say yes before you come in, of course."

Josephine frowned as she thought hard—did they have horn balm? She couldn’t remember. There had been too many requisition lists and each of them had been far too long. “I—” She massaged her temple with one hand. “You can try asking the apothecary, or the mage healers, or the kitchen cooks. They might have some in stock.” She regarded him curiously. “May I know why?”

"The Iron Bull's horns itch, he can't sleep - shifting, scratching, searching - it makes him angry, in the morning." Cole tried to explain, frowning a bit. "He snapped at a serving girl. It hurt him too. He didn't want to." 

Such simple things could make a world of difference in the right context; the spirit had searched high and low across Skyhold for this particular gift. His brow furrowed, concerned. "I have looked. He is the only one with horns."

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fadehierophant:

      Surely not all of Skyhold’s pain healed.  For Solas still holds on to his own, a constant weight barred in jagged edges, hidden within the deepest corners of his mind.  Still, he feels relieved that Cole’s inherent nature seems unchanged.

"I see.” Stormy eyes angle down, briefly frowning. “My apologies Cole.  I admit… I may sometimes fear the worst.” 

The elven apostate does not hide the fact that he dislikes the idea of Cole becoming more human.  With time, corruption would slowly gnaw its way into mind and soul.  For human’s at their very core cannot resist man’s greatest temptations; greed, pride, selfishness, cruelty… or even apathy, in Cole’s case, would be a detriment.   

"Please, walk with me.” With his head held high, Solas folds hands behind his back, setting into a slow stroll. "Do you like it here, away from the Fade?”

Cole paused, and then followed a few steps behind Solas; he trailed fingers along the rough-hewn stone of the wall, lingering for the briefest of moments when he found a vine pushing its way through a crack.

"I had to forget it, when I made myself more," The words were quiet, hesitating. "But I can help more like this - it's better. I understand more than the spirits we encounter," Continuing to move, he studied everything around him - everything but the elf.

"But...I know," he hesitated more, now - sometimes it was hard to find the right words, especially with someone who had as complex emotions as Solas. "I am not real. I tried to be, and I hurt my friend. I am glad he forgot."

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firexmirrors:

Garrett chuckled and polished off his ale, setting it aside to be refilled on the barmaid’s next walk around the room. Quiet, awkward types like Cole got trampled and pushed aside by louder personalities — Garrett was unsurprised by his confession. It was probably no fault of Cole’s own, either, just an inability made by predispositions.

"You’re not an average kid, are you, Cole?" Garrett asked after taking a moment to absorb the boy’s words. They were accurate, too accurate, but Cole wasn’t the type that the people looking for him would hire. Well… not him, not specifically. “You’re right,” Garrett continued. “No one’s looking for me. But they’re looking for my sister, and I am the best way to get to her.” Still, he relaxed somewhat, and finished his food a little slower than he might have.

"No - I am not a kid," Cole agreed with half of the sentiment, his lips quirking up into the barest semblance of a smile as he settled back a bit into his seat. It was good, he supposed, to sit somewhere so crowded - to get used to the cacophony of hurts. He'd need to learn to withstand it, to be better at helping.

"No one here is looking for her, either," Cole sounded certain of that fact, fingers fidgeting again, picking at the grain of the table's wood, pulling up tiny splinters. "Champion, cheeky, charming - is it fate or chance? They know her story, but not yours. You are safe here." He repeated the words - it was likely he'd soon make the man forget who said them, or that they were said at all - leaving only the lasting impression of calm. But he'd enjoy the company a moment longer.

Hurt

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sanctusvinctum:

A smattering of laughter, a gentle squeeze to his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

The water ran clearer now. One last change would be more than enough. She set to work and almost missed it when he spoke again, arms straining as she tossed another bucket of water over the railing. “Nothing wrong with that, Cole,” Sylph said when she returned, adding a fresh pitcher to the basin. “Makes you one of the good guys.”

"Yes," Cole agreed, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Good. I want to be good." He mumbled it more to himself than to her - his entire time in the physical world had been him trying to figure out just what that meant. Being good seemed like such an intangible concept. "It's harder, here - things get weighted down. They don't change."

( ✲ ) - - . Soiled

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avannaamatus:

Dorian did not try and force himself upon the spirit when he pulled away. He listened to the words cascading from Cole’s mouth, the pain in his voice obvious to anyone with working ears and working eyes. The way he shook like a leaf in the wind. The mage felt his heart sink at what he said.

"Cole…" he murmured. "You did this…?"

He let the meaning of each word sink in. Slowly and carefully, he approached Cole once more if only to still his hands. “Those people are not here right now,” he said softly. “Focus on what is in my mind, nothing else.”

Dorian thought about Cole, about when they traveled together. The boy appearing behind enemies about to cut him down, the mage distracting them from the knives behind. He thought of their talks, about the extremely personal things that Cole asked in the middle of nowhere, about all of the questions he asked in fact, and how Dorian could not bring himself to hate the boy for it.

He hoped that he was getting his feelings across, most of all.

Cole breathed deeply, closing his eyes as Dorian placed his hands over the spirit-boy's - slowly, gradually, his trembling stilled, although the memories of fighting weren't his favorite - they were something. Something besides the fear, the disgust, the hatred he had felt pressing towards him. These feelings were caring. Friend.

"Thank you," the words were hardly audible - it didn't matter, though, because the next moment Cole was hugging Dorian, arms wrapped tight around the man and face pressed into his chest - solid, real. Like warm eyes and quiet words and long talks - it felt like safe, like home.

Cole was probably getting blood on Dorian's clothes, but he didn't realize until after he'd pulled back - gaze dropped to his feet once more, sheepish, almost embarrassed by the suddenness of his action.

He hadn't hugged anyone in a long, long time.

Notions || Closed RP

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fadehierophant:

      There would never be an escape from sorrow.  For the world a wicked place full of heartbreak, pain and suffering.  For a spirit of compassion, anguish would always trump joy.  The hurt would swirl and coalesce into a ceaseless, monotonous, shrill.  It would be enough drive any living soul mad.  The fact that Cole could no longer hear them unsettles Solas.  Or perhaps Cole’s immersion among Skyhold inhabitants had taught the spirit to live with the screams.

      “Do you believe them gone, or do you believe you no longer hear their call?” For one vastly different than the other.  Cole has changed, just as Solas has.  This world no longer familiar.

  “I am pleased you find it good Cole, but you cannot lose sight of who you are.”

Cole could sense concern radiating from the elf, and he turned slightly to glance sidelong at him. "Not everyone. Just them. My friends." He said the words softly, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

"They don't hurt anymore. Not because of me. It is good." He repeated, letting out a slow breath. "They have forgotten. But I haven't. I know why I am here, Solas -- I will not forget again." He assured him, turning around on the stone wall and hopping down onto the battlement.

"Thank you. I am well."

[butilikemyhats-blog-blog]

avannaamatus:

   "That is good."

   Dorian inspected the wounds on Cole’s face, leaning forwards as he tried to get a better look in the dimming light. The blood had dried before, but now that the twine was being removed beads of red speckled his white skin. It would hurt like hell for a while, but if he used the right salves and left it to heal then it would be fine. The damage looked much worse than it truly was.

   The mage took a handkerchief from his robes, the embroidery of a name just barely visible in the dim light of evening. A small canteen also came from his belts and he quickly wet the cloth before approaching Cole once more. 

   "I’m going to clean it," he stated carefully. "We would not want it to become infected, now would we?"

   With steady hands and gentle wipes, he brushed the dried and fresh blood away from their wounds. Cole was obviously trying to keep his pain hidden, and Dorian did his best not to agitate the hurt any more than he needed to.

   "Would it be insensitive of me to ask how this happened?"

Cole was quiet for a while as Dorian cleaned the injuries on his mouth; he didn't quite meet the mage's gaze, twisting a piece of string between his fingers.

"My fault." There was pain behind the words, but his lips continued to move, unbidden - he couldn't stop the stream of words once they were freed.

"Shut up, stop talking, how many times do I have to tell you, the demon is speaking again, be quiet be quiet be quiet -" The spirit trembled a bit, shoulders curling inwards as he ducked his head, away from Dorian's gentle touches, into himself.

"Too much, words pressing, pulling, prying -" His voice cracked, and he coughed - his mouth still thick with the coppery taste of blood. "Couldn't stop them. My hands aren't my hands, twisting, tearing, through and together --  tied and tightened."

Notions || Closed RP

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fadedtouch:

     An enveloping silence surrounded the two, only but the distant sounds from the upper levels resounded. It was a peculiar question, yet one with a simple answer. “No, Cole. Dreams cannot be controlled, it comes naturally and is fixed. There are barring circumstances—” Inclining his head to the side, his eyebrows knit and eyes now peering at the boy; Cole’s inquiries had brought another matter to his attention, one that had piqued his curiosity.

"You recall the time you spent in the Fade, when you dream?" Bemusing, a spirit who can dream; a thought that he would subsequently ponder on—for now, he aspired to help the spirit in any way possible. His anxiety would suggest that the contents of his dreams caused him distraught, not the act.

Cole hesitated, before nodding. "Yes, I --" he worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment as he figured out the words. "I see things. I don't like them. I don't want to." His voice was soft, betraying the underlying pain. 

"Varric keeps telling me I need to sleep more. But I don't want to, if it means dreaming." His eyes were downcast, fingers tugging at loose threads on the edge of his shirt; he couldn't stand still, uncomfortable with Solas' gaze upon him. "Please."

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rebelllum:

              "No. You don’t.” A spirit shouldn’t try to be more than what they were. Doing such invited perversions of the ideal for which they stood —— allowed for people to take the spirit and… twist them into something they weren’t. Force them to become the very opposite of what they were meant to be. Like he had with Justice. ( And how hollow the admission left him, sometimes. As though there were NOTHING inside at all. ) 

              “I wasn’t trying to help. There was… more to it, than that.” Ideals, causes and effects. The thought left the taste of Chantry ashes on his tongue, in his throat, in his nose. For a moment, he had to hold his breath. Just a moment. Everything could hinge on a moment. 

              The way the man — spirit, Cole — looked at him left Anders uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of cold gazes behind the slots of polished helmets, and the sneers he heard as a suggestion underneath even that. He wanted to look away. He didn’t. Anders trained himself to ignore fear because fear was a poison that could stop him from accomplishing what needed to be done.

              “I wanted —— I was trying to change things. For people like me.” 

Cole frowned a bit when the mage claimed he wasn't trying to help. That...didn't follow. Not with the glimpses of memories and feelings the spirit got, not with any of it.

"You wanted to make it better." The words were soft, breathless - Cole's hands turned over and over each other, unable to hold them still. Picking at the edges of dirty nails, at callouses and scabs, there was always something moving.

"That is helping." There was a ghost of a smile on the spirit's lips, now - it felt wrong, like he didn't quite know how, but he understood. Or he tried to. He wanted to understand, wanted to help. "Like the one with fiery hair. She killed the elf and called it a necessary loss, called it mercy - change needs to happen, this is the only way -" The rush of memory hit Cole like a wave.

It hurt.

"You were angry. You aren't, anymore. Are you?"