#challenge fourteen

[justplaggin]

14!skk very much REAL

[its-your-mind]

*deep breath in*

the fears 👏 have always 👏 been (in one way or another) 👏 parallel 👏 to 👏 desire 👏

let me explain.

so many of the statements given by actual avatars center around some sort of need that was met by their entity. Lots of them even had a positive relationship with the fear that drove them.

Jane Prentiss is an excellent example - the Corruption has always been about a form of toxic and possessive love, but she personally has a deep desire to be “fully consumed by what loves her,” and finds a perverse joy and relief at allowing herself to be a home

Jude Perry is another - she fucking loved watching people’s lives be utterly destroyed. The Desolation only offered her a power of destruction on a grander scale, and then gave her a more intense rush of joy as she did its work. When she tells Jon that he needs to feed the Eye before it feeds on him, it’s almost as an afterthought; she was happily feeding the Desolation long before it burned her into a new existence.

Simon Fairchild. Every time that old loose bag of bones wanders into the picture, he is having a fucking EXCELLENT time playing with the Vast. He loves showing people their own insignificance, and he loves luring them into situations where he can throw them into the void as he smiles and waves.

Peter Lukas (hell, the whole Lukas family (except Evan. RIP Evan.)) hated. people. all he wanted was for them all to go away, to leave him alone. The Lonely only fulfilled that desire.

Daisy, Trevor, and Julia, all devoted to hunting those things they deemed monstrous.

Melanie, holding tight to that bullet in her leg because on some level, she wanted it. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like it fit right alongside the anger and spite that drove her to success.

Annabelle Cane first encountered the Web when she was a child, running away from home in order to tug on her parents’ heartstrings in just the right way to have them wrapped around her little finger. Later on she volunteered to be the subject of an ESP study. Hell, she’s the one who dangled the “Is it really You that wants this?” question over Jon’s head in S4.

And that brings us to Jon, beloved Jarchivist, the Voice that Opened the Door. Ever since he was a child targeted by the Web, he was looking for answers. He joined the Magnus Institute’s Research Department looking for them, he stalked his coworkers in search for them, he broke into Gertrude’s flat and laptop out of desperation for them. And when he realized that all he had to do was Ask to get truthful answers to his questions? It was only natural for him to jump at that opportunity.

Elias told S3 Jon that he did want this, that he chose it, that at every crossroads he kept pushing onwards, and the inner turmoil that caused was one of the focal points for Jon’s character through the rest of the podcast.

There’s a certain line of thinking in many circles about the power of the Devil: he’s not able to create anything new. All he’s able to do is twist and warp that which was already present, making it something ugly and profane while still maintaining the facade of something desirable.

Jon didn’t choose the Eye. But he did wander into its realm of power, exhibiting exactly the qualities it was most capable of hijacking and warping to its own ends. Jon didn’t choose the Apocalypse. But Jonah picked at him little by little, pointing him towards each Fear individually. Jon didn’t want to release the Fears. But the Web tugged on his strings just so and laid a pretty trail for him to follow until he reached its desired conclusion.

Jon didn’t choose ultimate power, or omniscience, or even his own role as Head Archivist. But he said “yes” to the right (wrong?) orders and kept on pushing for the right (wrong?) answers. He wanted to succeed at the work he had been assigned. He wanted to protect his friends. He wanted to rescue them when they were lost. He wanted to prevent the apocalypse, to save the world. He wanted to know why he was still alive, when so many had died right in front of him.

The Great Wheel of Evil Color that is the Entities might not fit as neatly into categories in this universe - maybe there was no Robert Smirke trying to impose strict categories on emotional experiences, or maybe the ways they manifest in the world has turned on its head (goodness knows many of them have been showcased and blended in some very fun and new and horrifying ways so far) - but their fundamental foundations seem to be the same. Hell, in episode one we learned that there had been enough individual incidents to create a distinction between “dolls, watching” and “dolls, human skin.”

Smirke’s Fourteen isn’t going to be relevant as common parlance, RQ said that already, but I don’t think that means the Fears themselves (and their Dream Logic-based rules) are different - I think it means that the levels of understanding, language used, and personal connections among people “in the know” are going to be entirely unfamiliar

[respectthepetty]

If the finale of We Are isn't just Pun and Chain's wedding, then what have I been witnessing for sixteen episodes?

Call me Streuselkuchen the way I'm surviving off of CRUMBS!

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day fourteen

"taking care of eachother while sick"

little tight on time (thanks to The Devil Doesn't Bargain editing), so this one is a little shorter, but I could have so much fun expanding this one into a lengthier sickfic <3

Evan wakes up later in the night, shivering violently as a cough wracks out of him. 

“I got you another blanket baby,” Tommy murmurs as he shakes it out over Evan. The blonde whimpers as it comes down on him but does nothing to make him feel any warmer. Tommy shifts back around the bed and gets in on his side, pulling the blankets back to climb in. 

“Still co-old,” Evan stammers, trembling. Tommy scoots closer and pulls him in wraps his arms around Evan. 

“Better,” he asks as he rubs his hands up and down his back. 

“A little,” Evan rasps. He snuggles tighter against Tommy, still shivering. 

Tommy lets out a long breath, continuing to move his hands up and down on Evan. His skin is hot to the touch and his fever is climbing, which Tommy supposes isn’t that surprising, given that it only started a few hours ago. Still, the rate at which he’s spiking is concerning. 

“Eddie picked up some provisions,” he murmurs. Evan doesn’t reply. 

Evan falls back out fairly quickly, but Tommy stays beside him. He’s sure they’re just getting started with whatever virus is setting in on him, and the last thing he wants to do is leave him unattended. Even so, he eventually nods off himself. 

His eyes shoot open sometime later to the sound of retching. Evan is coughing so hard that the coughs are shifting to dry heaves, curled over on the side of the bed facing away from Tommy. 

He leaps from the bed and circles it quickly, finding the waste bin he’d grabbed for Evan earlier in the evening and lifting it for him as the blonde continues to cough, strained whines coming out of him at the pain it’s inducing when he finally manages to get a breath. 

Tommy frowns as he perches next to him, running a hand down the back of Evan’s head. Evan looks up at him wearily, eyes glassy from the strain of coughing. 

“Baby,” he lilts, stroking his thumb along the back of Evan’s head. He’s still so warm. 

Evan blinks a few times as he sits there, clearly still struggling to be awake. 

“Can I get you anything,” Tommy asks, sliding his hand around Evan’s head to feel his forehead. Evan shakes his head, but then grabs the wastebin suddenly, his eyes going wide as he starts getting sick. Tommy shakes his head, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Evan is loath to stop it, buckling forward with each new wave that comes. He manages a whimper in between a round of waves, only for his stomach to recoil again a few seconds later. 

“Let it out,” Tommy murmurs to him, alternating between rubbing his back and stroking the sweat off his forehead. It takes almost a full minute, but eventually, Evan is able to let up. Tommy sets the bin aside briefly to grab Evan’s water so that he can rinse his mouth out. He lifts the bin once more for Evan to spit into before helping him lay back down. 

“I’m gonna go rinse this,” he tells him, running a hand along Evan’s forehead again. “Think you’ll be okay for a minute?” 

Evan nods, tugging the blankets higher around him. 

“Usually comes in rounds,” he murmurs as he reaches for a tissue on the nightstand. “Should be fine for a while.” 

Tommy stands then and heads to the bathroom, dumping the contents in the bin before rinsing it and returning to their bedroom as promised. He places the bin beside Evan again and then picks up the thermometer, turning it on and pressing it to Evan’s temple. 

“Eddie pick up chloraseptic spray,” he rasps wearily. 

Tommy glances up at the pharmacy on his side of the bed. “I think so. I’ll look in a minute.” 

The thermometer beeps a few seconds later and Tommy lifts it, shakes his head. 

“Over a hundred and three now,” he tells Evan as he places it back on the nightstand. He rounds the bed once more and starts shuffling around the supplies he’d left out from Eddie’s delivery. Sure enough, he finds the spray. He starts pulling at the wrapping on it. “Think you can tolerate this without getting sick again?” 

Evan nods, managing to lean up on an elbow when Tommy passes him the spray. Once he’s gotten it in, he passes the bottle back to Tommy before laying back down, letting out a soft sigh as the analgesic starts to kick in. 

Tommy settles back in bed with him then, letting Evan curl up against him once more. 

“I feel like someone shoved me in Oscar’s trash can and then threw me down a flight of stairs,” he murmurs nasally. 

Tommy chuckles. “Too much Sesame Street with Jee, I think.” 

“Shut up,” he replies. 

Tommy leans down, kisses his forehead. “Go back to sleep, grouch.” He pauses for a moment. “I love you.” 

Evan sighs, tries to snuggle even closer. “Love you.” 

[esilher]

« We said we'd walk together, baby, come what may That come the twilight, should we lose our way? If as we're walking a hand should slip free I'll wait for you And should I fall behind Wait for me »

If I Should Fall Behind - Bruce Springsteen

[buttercups-song]

Nine showing a nineteen year old blonde the destruction of her home planet after destroying their own home planet 🤝 fifteen befriending a nineteen year old blonde adoptee whose biological parents are a mystery

[impossible-rat-babies]

I haven’t bothered to look into how to fix it, but bc eyrie’s face is asym now their old fangs don’t work

[candycryptids]

Sometimes you just have to make up another funky guy to be insane about. For your health.

[elias-the-corvid]

I've been slowly explaining Smirke's fourteen to my dad and he just asked me "which one would [my pile of clothes] be?"

To which I answered "depends on what you're scared of"

"having so many they cover you?"

"Buried."

So I took this opportunity to teach him that things aren't inherently one fear or another, it depends on what aspect of it you fear most AND that the fears can be combined so that's why actually Smirke's fourteen aren't really perfect we just use them because it's the best we've got and at this point my dad looks slightly horrified, mostly confused and slightly amused.

So I said "and yes I do hate a fictional man, we all do sometimes, in fact I hate multiple fictional men." And closed the door.

[chemical-processes]

cis-het cajun prettyboi

[the-crowbar-was-my-kryptonite]

Inktober Day 14: Castle

“I’m sorry, did you just say that they locked themselves in a castle? With a fire breathing dragon?”

The elderly advisor sighed. He had been showing the Prince portraits of fair maidens for well over three hours, and he was starting to lose patience. Admittedly, it was far simpler now then when he’d done the same for the Prince’s father, the current king. The process had been digitized. It had been a nightmare when they had still used physical paintings. The advisor still remembered having to hoist up massive oil paintings for his Majesty to view, only to have them rejected -- sometimes before he even finished placing them upon the easel.

“As I have advised His Royal Highness, it was unnecessary to even consider this option. This royal has completely given up their title, and now refers to themselves only as ���Mal’. It would be a most unsuitable match indeed.” The advisor flipped to the next slide and began again.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Eliza of the Waterlands is five foot --”

“Wait, go back."

“To Duchess Meredith of the Eastern Wisterian Empire?” The advisor asked hopefully?

“Who? No, to the one you just showed me, Mal or whatever.”

“Sire, with all due respect, I really don’t see what good can come of this. Without a royal title, they make an unsuitable match, and as I indicated, they do not seem to have any interest in marriage.”

The Prince, clearly, had not heard a word of the advisor’s wisdom, and instead met the old man with a hard stare. Reluctantly, the advisor flipped back to the picture of Mal, who was standing sassily in front of a stained glass window. Not only was the titleless royal in both a corset and riding trousers, but they were posing much too wantonly for the elder’s liking.

“They look rather pretty in that corset, don’t you think?” The Prince asked dreamily.

“Phillip, as your advisor, I must advise against this, truly if you’d like to start from the beginning, I am certain that there is some princess --” Prince Phillip held up his hand.

“There is no need to waste either of our time any longer. I choose this one. They do not need a title, for once we are married I will provide them with one. Perhaps we can even summer at their castle, since they seem so fond of it.” Phillip motioned for one of the guards to bring him his armour.

“Now, old man, tell me where I can find this castle.”

All art by @cool_beans_jw on insta. Writing by her weird sister.

[stusbunker]

Hey Stu, Saw your "SIN in CINEMA" challenge in the SPN Pond's Discord server. I hope it's not too late to join! If not, I decided to pick the following: From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are. Thanks!

YES! Never too late to join, no deadline so no stress to you, friend. Do you know who you are going to write for? Or a pairing at all?

Your sin is SLOTH.

Thank you so much for joining in!

<3

[leilaniandonehundreddays]

day fourteen (some years later), smile

i thought

i knew true love

but then i held you close

and breathed in the newness of your

first smile

[icantrecallaskysoclear]

Challenge Day Fourteen: The shows Ultimate Quote/Message >>> God is good, and it is never too late to be redeemed.

(Happy 12 Days of Christmas!!)

[oli-draw]

aaaaaaaaa, I'M FUCKED UP!

(sorry for the checkmate)

Day fourteen: letters and postcards

I love this thorn and what will you do to me?!