#who do they find but the man they’ve relentlessly hunted down for years

[grandapplewit]

AU where Shen Yuan, soon after Binghe falls into the Abyss, loses all his memories of Shen Qingqiu. He assumes that he transmigrated into some no name NPC, and enjoys his life as a rogue cultivator completely oblivious to the Heavenly Demon and multiple Peak Lord’s tearing the world apart trying to find him.

[onewfantaesy]

Maledictus AU

Despite Jongin and Taemin quickly becoming best friends, their brothers still torment Taemin relentlessly. It’s the day after the full moon, and he’s exhausted and sore - side effects of having the transformation only once a month - and they start calling him Maledictus again in the hallway between classes.

But having a Gryffindor Uncle - Minho - has its perks, as Taemin’s learned several not-so-approved spells to use on people who are mean to him. So when he’s around the corner, he sends a nasty jinx Chanyeol’s way. The fourth year has proven to be the meanest of Taemin’s brothers, and coincidentally he funnest one to get back at. He’s very reactive, as the yelps from the jinx prove. Taemin chuckles and bolts down the hall to get to class before they can retaliate.

It seems like they’ve grown bored with simply calling him Maledictus, though, and Taemin finds out the hard way. Because the next morning, he can’t find a single one of his potions. He starts to panic, because maybe he just misplaced them. He still had a week-and-half doses of the potion left, he can’t be out already, and Kibum wasn’t scheduled to send anymore until that Saturday. It’s only Wednesday, he can’t go three whole days without his potion, he just can’t.

He ransacks the entire dorm room, turns everything topsy-turvy to try and find his potions, threatens his roommates for answers they don’t have on who took them or who hid them. It gets him nowhere, and he’s running full speed to the Hospital Wing as soon as he realizes that. Maybe the mediwitch has extras. Maybe she can call Kibum and get more.

Except she doesn’t seem to take him seriously, and tells him he must have misplaced the potions.

“No one would steal your potions,” she says, waving a hand. “Check your dorm room again.”

“But they’re not there!” he tries to tell her. “I need to take it now!”

She doesn’t listen. He spends all day skipping class to search every inch of his dorm and the common room, but comes up empty. His friends and his roommates and his House mates are all concerned, all trying to help, but no one can find them.

“What did you do?” Taemin asks in a dangerously low voice, moving to corner Jongin in the hallway. “What did you do to my potions?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jongin says, his voice going high.

“Bullshit!” Taemin screams. “You took them! You snuck into our dorm and took them!”

“No I didn’t! I swear!”

“I hate you!” Taemin screams in Jongin’s face. “I hate you and I hate you stupid brothers and I hate your stupid family!”

Chanyeol and two of the other brothers arrive then, shoving Taemin onto the floor, calling him Maledictus. Laughing. Taunting him.

“Give them back!” Taemin demands, pushing himself. “Give them back now!”

“What? These?” Chanyeol asks, laughing and holding up an empty potions vial. “Here, take them.”

And he tosses it at Taemin, the glass shattering at his feet. Taemin starts to really panic then, his hands grasping at the front of his robes, his eyes wide and frozen as he stares at the broken glass.

“What did you do?” Jongin asks. When he tries to move to hit Chanyeol, another brother holds I’m back. “What did you do to him!”

“Better run, Maledictus,” Chanyeol says, laughing. “It’s almost sundown.”

Taemin turns then, looking out a window, his whole body turning ice cold when he sees the sun is just about to set.

“And you know what I hear is fun to hunt?” Chanyeol taunts. “Snakes.”

Taemin bolts then, running as fast as he can, anywhere his feet will take him. Chanyeol is laughing obnoxiously, already starting to run after him, and Jongin is screaming for them to stop and to leave Taemin alone.

Taemin screams as his body transforms into a snake, his bones cracking and joints popping, the pain coursing through him a thousand times worse than he’s ever remembered. And Chanyeol’s laugh echoes in the hallway as several students scream at the sight of a giant snake slithering along the castle floors.

Chanyeol and several of the brothers chase Taemin all night, never leaving him alone, throwing hexes and jinxes and slicing spells at him. He couldn’t even go back to the common room, one of the brothers keeping watch in the only corridor that leads to the Hufflepuff dorms. He doesn’t get a moment’s rest the entire night, until the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise. When he slithers into the only open office he can find.

Of course it’s Sooman’s. And as soon as Taemin enters, a bookshelf moves and he Professor is stepping through from his private quarters.

It’s just as Taemin transforms back, and he’s screaming and shaking and writhing on the floor in front of the man he fears the most. Everything hurts. He’s covered in cuts and burns, some of them magical and some just from the stone of the castle floors, and he can’t catch his breath.

“Stop stop stop,” Taemin begs, trying to push himself away from where the man kneels in front of him. “Please. Please stop.”

“Why were you a snake?” the man growls. “You’re supposed to keep that under control.”

“They took my potions,” Taemin cries, still trying to get away from him.

“Who did? Your roommates?”

Taemin just shakes his head, and he noticeably flinches and starts shaking when Chanyeol’s laugh echoes into the room. He can just barely hear Sooman sigh over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“You’re covered in cuts,” Sooman says. “Stay still.”

“No no no!” Taemin screams, moving back against the wall, and he gasps and fumbles for the amulet around his neck. “I wanna go home, I wanna go home. Please, please, I wanna go home.”

“This will help,” Sooman says, and he uses a dropper to put a potion into a large scrape on Taemin’s neck.

But instead of healing it, it only burns. Taemin screams, and he curls up and grabs the amulet with both hands, pleading, “Daddy, Daddy I wanna come home. Daddy, please. Please it hurts.”

Sooman himself is panicking, because this jar is supposed to be a simple healing potion, why isn’t it working, why is it only causing more pain?

Jongin runs in then, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, looking disheveled and panicked.

“Dad! Dad they’re - Taemin!”

And he runs and slides next to Taemin, falling on his knees, bruising them on the hard floor, and using gentle hands to hold Taemin’s head.

“What is going on?” Sooman demands.

“They took his potions and they’ve been torturing him all night and they put me in a body bind and they hurt my Taemin!” Jongin cries, hugging Taemin close.

And the clusterfuck of a morning only gets worse when a distraught Kibum rushes in followed by a flustered Headmaster.

“What the fuck did you do to my son?” Kibum spits, pulling Taemin close and holding his wand out towards Sooman. But Kibum turns back to Taemin when he starts crying more, when he realizes Taemin is bleeding, and he moves back Taemin’s robes and his shirt to find several pieces of glass stuck in his abdomen.

“It’s alright,” Kibum says quickly, muttering spells to take the glass. “It’s okay, Daddy’s here. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Why can’t you just kill me?” Taemin asks between desperate sobs. “I don’t wanna be a snake, I don’t.”

A strangled cry leaves Jongin then, and he dives into Sooman’s side as Chanyeol and two of the other brothers finally walk inside. Sooman holds one arm around Jongin and the other up to keep the older boys back, a stern look on his face. The three older boys all step back, looking nervous now at the sight of their father and the Headmaster, but not daring to run away.

“Kill me,” Taemin begs. “Please.”

“Do you remember,” Kibum asks in a thick, shaking voice, “Do you remember when you first asked me that? Do you remember that day?”

“Yes,” Taemin cries.

“Do you remember how I said I would never, ever hurt you?” Kibum asks him softly, leaning down so his face was next to Taemin’s ear. “Because this is not your fault. You are not bad. You are not evil. You are a very good person who has had a lot of bad things happen to them. You were born with a curse, but that does not make you a curse.”

“I want to be normal,” Taemin begs, not opening his eyes, not moving from where Kibum has him held tight to his chest.

“I know,” Kibum whispers. “I know.”

He holds Taemin for a few minutes like that, rocking him back and forth, trying to calm him down. And when Taemin’s cries turn from desperate sobs into shaking gasps, he runs a thumb over Taemin’s cheek.

“I’m going to put you to sleep now,” Kibum says gently.

“No! No,” Taemin shrieks, a shaky hand moving up to grasp at Kibum’s wrist.

“It’s okay,” Kibum says quickly. “It’s daytime now. You’re not going to turn into a snake.”

“Don’t leave,” Taemin begs.

“I’m not leaving,” Kibum whispers. “I’m just going to put you to sleep so I can get you patched up, so you won’t feel anything. And then we’re going home.”

“Wanna go home now,” Taemin says.

“It will be okay,” Kibum says gently. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”

Taemin slowly lets go of Kibum’s wrist, manages to calm down a bit, and then Kibum whispers the spells to put Taemin to sleep. After he uses another couple healing spells, he holds Taemin tight to his chest and turns to glare at sorry excuse of a family still in the room.

The Headmaster ushers him out before he can say anything he might regret, and he takes the floo in the Headmaster’s office to travel home, Taemin still tucked in his arms.

[retvenkos]

9 years

Tuck Everlasting - Miles Tuck x Rose and Thomas and Anna, angst

tuck everlasting month 2020, day 16

A/N: so, first of all, i changed miles' canon age for when rose leaves. also, in the books miles has 2 kids - a boy, and a girl named anna. i, of course, decided to include her because miles with a daughter would have been perfect - exactly what he needed. the emphasis, however, lies in the word would...

Summary: But time has a way of changing things. Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to wonder what the world had planned for her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would work to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

9 years.

Rose had known the Tucks for 9, long years.

She first met them when the family came into town, having just settled nearby, looking for men to help build their would be home. Even then, Angus Tuck was a self-made man. He knew how to build houses (after all, he had made their first home, before it burned down) and was only looking for help on account of his age. He was nearing fifty and wasn’t as spry as he used to be, so he decided he could use the help of another man - someone young, who could follow directions efficiently. Rose’s brother had fit the description perfectly, and a deal was struck: he would help the Tuck’s with building their home, and they would let him use their horse for farm work.

Rose had met Miles Tuck that day and believed they were kindred spirits, of sorts. He was just as bookish and quiet as she, and while he was blunt and occasionally harsh with his words, his heart was well-meaning and made up for his shortcomings. He was 2 years older than her, at the time, and when the Tuck’s departed, her brother teased her relentlessly.

The next morning, she joined her brother in going over to the Tuck’s homestead, helping Mae unpack her things and cook a large dinner for the men on an open fire. They bonded, speaking of literature and culture, technology and faith. Those days were simple and happy, spent bonding with a family she adored and learning about the world they had come from. There was quite a lot of world, beyond Treegap, New Hampshire, and to hear about it was fascinating.

After a long day’s work, the four men would eat as though they hadn’t seen food in years. They would thank Mae and Rose, praising their cooking, and would have a smoke afterward. Jesse would sneak off sometime before the pipes were pulled out, and Miles would drift away from Angus and Roses’ brother, not caring for conversations of hunting or fishing. Rose would sit beside him, quietly, and start up a conversation with Miles, the two smiling and laughing in the firelight.

When the cottage was finished, Rose helped Mae move the last of her valuables indoors and  sighed. “I suppose I no longer have an excuse to come and bake with you.”

Mae had smiled, and there was something in her eyes that sparkled as though she knew a secret. “As long as Miles lives here, I’m sure you’ll find a reason or two.”

Rose had stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed by the older woman’s words, and Mae said nothing further on the matter. When she said goodbye to the Tuck’s, Rose couldn’t look Miles in the eye.

As they walked home, her brother looked at her with raised eyebrows. Rose shoved him and told him to shut up.

Miles had called on her a few weeks afterward, asking her if she’d like to take a stroll through town. She had smiled, then, admiring the redness in his cheeks and the sincerity in his tone. They courted for a year, and on a beautiful autumn day, they had gotten married.

They had vowed to love each other. They promised to stand by one another and let nothing come between them. They had sworn to be honest with one another, no matter what.

That had been 7 years ago. Rose was 22 and naive to the ways of the world.

Now, staring at her mother, a six year-old Thomas playing on the ground beneath her, and another baby kicking in her stomach, Rose had seen much more of the vast, unexplainable world. Her mother handed her a cup of tea and she sipped at it politely, trying to wonder how to begin.

Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to not believe her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would conspire against you to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

Rose had thought her mother to be too faithful, then - too reliant on the universe working in her favor. Then she had met the Tucks, and throughout the years, she learned bits of their secret.

“Nothing could make me love him less.”

“Of course, not.” Rose’s mother sat across from her at the table, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes heavy with wisdom. “You are his wife, after all.”

Rose nodded. She had never questioned her vows. She loved him and had no secrets. But something ate at the back of her mind, gnawing at her, asking her if perhaps Miles had broken his.

“But you are a mother and every mother loves her child more than anything else.”

Rose looked at her boy - his dark curls falling into wide eyes, his cheeky smiles and soft hands. “I would do anything to keep Thomas safe.” Her hand went to her stomach, and the baby inside moved. “Anna, too.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

At first, there wasn’t much to question. The Tucks had come from out of town to settle, and no one knew their prior family. They joked that youth ran in the family. Jesse looked as though he hadn’t aged a day from when he met Rose, but that was because he was a boy and excitement held onto adolescence tightly. Mae was no younger than her own mother, and yet her hair maintained the same vibrant red of her younger years. Not a single hair turned silver to match the few she had when they first came to Treegap. Rose only ever seemed to get older with time, but motherhood was exhausting and easily deepended wrinkled and added crows feet to smooth skin. If she ever mentioned it, Miles would kiss her, saying she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and Rose would get lost in his love.

After a while, it was their health that Rose found peculiar. Angus and Mae were well into their fifties, approaching that heavy age where the world pulled them closer to the ground in which they would one day lay, leaving aches and pains in the morning, and tiredness in the evening. However, the couple never seemed to be bothered by time, and in the winter, when aches were at their worst and illness swept through the town like a breeze, the family stayed unaffected by the damp that set into their home or the draft that came under the doors.

What had frightened Rose the most, though were not trivial wrinkles or impeccable health. What had caused her to draw away from the family she had always loved and shook Rose to her core was Jesse’s fall.

When she thought about it later, she remembered how the sunlight seemed to bend around him like a halo, the branches falling with him like wings on his back - like an angel, her mother had said. Or, she said, in a quiet tone, like Icarus. A Greek tragedy - too reckless for this life, too young for his experiences.

Jesse should have died upon hitting the ground; a fall from that high, with his body hitting branches as he fell, his head bloody and his limbs lying at odd angles when he landed on the ground should have killed him. He was Icarus, after all, plummeting towards his grave. When he did not, the Tucks were relieved and Rose was, too. But she also had a mind that told her of mortal wounds - those injuries that people do not survive.

Something was broken that day, and it was not Jesse’s body.

Thomas had been four, then, still a toddler that needed a father to show him the way. Rose was still uncertain, in those days, believing in Miles and those vows she had made more than anything else in the world.

That was 2 years ago. She was 27 and growing fast.

Was she grown, now?

“What do I do?” She looked at her mother for guidance but already knew she did not want to hear her reply.

Amongst the Tucks was a fallen angel. They were no longer in God’s grace.

“You already know what must be done.”

“But I cannot.” Tears were welling into Rose’s eyes and she pushed them back, not allowing them to fall. Thomas had stilled in her games on the floor and stared at his mother, eyes wide and full of wonder. “I can’t leave Miles… I can’t leave my husband.”

“You’re not leaving Miles.” Her mother put her hands on top of Roses’. “You’re leaving The Adversary.”

“No...” Rose fell to the ground and wept. Thomas grabbed her skirts, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. “They’re good people.”

“They’ve been claimed by evil.” Rose shook her head, but her eyes were filled with fear. “You have your children to think of. You must leave.”

“Where will I go?” Rose asked, her voice cracking, her head bowed.

Her mother leaned down to pick Rose off of the ground. Rose was sobbing still, her body shaking with effort, her breathing laboured and broken. Her mother smoothed her hair and let Rose cry on her shoulder. Thomas hugged his mother’s legs and patted her pregnant belly.

“Go to the Lord, Rose, and pray. It’s all you can do.”

…

Rose stared at the empty page beneath her and willed herself to write something down. She had loved Miles for 9, long years. She had been by his side all the while, never once believing him to be something dark and sinister.

When Jesse had fallen, Miles had been right there, calling out his brother’s name, holding the boy’s body to his chest. When Jesse’s eyes opened and he coughed up blood, the deep red dripping down his chin and staining his shirt, Miles had carried him to their home with tears of relief in his eyes. He had borne the burden of almost losing his brother, determined to not let anyone else suffer.

Rose had borne the burden of knowing that he shouldn’t have survived.

To the Tucks, Jesse’s prolonged life was a miracle. But Jesse’s life was heavy on Rose’s conscience - like a curse.

It was only fair, now, that Miles shared in her burden. A letter was the only way he could ever know the reasons for why she would do what she intended. Miles knowing why would explain her actions and the guilt of what she was to do would be his, as well.

She was going to explain herself - like a good, honest woman should. Honesty was one of her vows to him. Miles may have kept secrets and cast her in shadow, but she would shed light on her action and give him the honestly she promised one last time.

Rose was 29, now, and time was stealing away her life, one day at a time.

She could not wait any longer for another explanation to arrive. The rumors in town were insidious. The Tucks were an unnatural family. There was no other way - no other path she could take.

Rose looked at the grandfather clock that she had been given as a wedding gift. In only a few more hours, light would start to fill the house. She had to go, now. There was no time for explanations or apologies.

Rose stood and crept to where they kept their money box. She took what little they had, and prayed that the Lord would provide the rest. She turned, one last time, to look at her husband, pain in her eyes.

He was still 22, the same as they day they met, no changes made to his mortal body. He did not look like the evil he was supposed to be, but evil was a master at deception.

Her baby kicked and Rose held back a sob.

Stealing into Thomas’ room, Rose prayed to the Lord. She prayed for guidance, for strength, for something to make the bile in her throat lessen, something to make her actions feel like less of a betrayal.

Thomas woke at his mother’s touch, and she told him they were leaving. He asked her if papa was coming and a tear slipped down her cheek. She bent down to look him in the eye, and when she spoke, her words were thick with sorrow, but clear and low. “Not now, Thomas. We will see him again, one day, but not now.”

He didn’t understand, but followed where his mother led. Their footfalls were quiet, with the grace of God guiding them outside and into the night.

Rose had a destination in mind - somewhere Miles would never find them, somewhere where she would not see him at every street corner and in the aisles of a store. She thought of her life with him; her mind combed through those 9 years in a moment's hesitation and lingered on her mother’s words, spoken with gravity.

You already know what must be done.

Rose held Thomas’ hand in hers, the other resting on her pregnant stomach. Inside, the baby put her foot to where her mother held her. She knew what must be done for her children - there was nothing that was too difficult, nothing too unthinkable when done in their name. She prayed that one day, when she told Thomas of all that had been done, that he would not hate her for her actions, done in his name.

She did not look back at the farmhouse as she left. She had to leave Miles behind her. Still, she closed her eyes as she traveled into the night, the wind stinging her cheeks, damp with tears, and thought of the man she had met in Treegap, 9 years ago.

“Forgive me.”

[preservationandruin]

Rhythm Of War Liveblog Part One, Part 1 (Chapters 1-2)

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On to Part One of Rhythm of War, after I finish screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. Actually, we can’t wait for that, I’m never going to be done screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. 

Our POVs are Kaladin, Shallan, Navani, Venli, and Lirin--so Kal’s family is coming back to prominence, I guess. It’s a short update, but I gotta go to work. 

Lirin talks about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight, Syl lets loose an “I told you so” first thing, we see a new and terrifying variant of Fused, I come up with a new, more accurate name for the Sons of Honor; Veil finally gets kidnapped; I start getting philosophical about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight; and Kaladin organizes an airlift. 

Epigraphs for this part seem to be a lecture that Navani gave on how to trap spren in fabrials, so that’s cool.

Alright, so our timing here is a year after the fall of Alethkar, and Herdaz has been next on the Voidbringers’ target list. They’ve been fighting the entire time, but the voidbringers have intensified their assault and now refugees are pouring into the villages in Alethkar; Lirin is insisting on examining everyone as they come in, making sure that he can find people who need treatment early. The leader of Hearthstone now is Brightness Abiajan--from the name, I’m assuming she’s one of the singers. 

Also, apparently someone is coming through this line today that Lirin is anxious about. Abiajan comes to talk to Lirin, wondering if he has no compassion because he’s so numb to others’ suffering--he explains that he has to numb it to survive as a surgeon. She mentions that he set her arm, once, when she was a child. Also, hilariously, Abiajan says that plaguespren cause plague and that the idea that it’s improper sanitation is superstition. 

Laral, Kaladin’s childhood friend, is helping out now, determined. Apparently the person that Lirin is worried about is a Herdazian general; Lirin does see him as responsible for much of the current strife for continuing to fight; however, he’s not going to turn him in, and instead has contacted Kaladin to come pick him up while Laral helps Roshone make a distraction. 

Lirin’s condemnation of continuing a hopeless war as something that just gets people killed and is stupid (”Heroism is a myth you tell idealistic young people. It got one of my sons killed and another taken from me”) makes sense and is deeply sad. It’s also a good second perspective on the fact that so much of Roshar’s narrative has been about being forced to choose between two bad options and having the resolve to find another path or stick with the honorable thing--Lirin here is a reminder that that’s not always an option and sometimes makes things worse. “I obey the person who holds the sword to my neck, General, same as I always have.” 

Heroism isn’t always an option. Heroism can get you killed and hurt the people around you. You have to be willing to take responsibility for that in order to try heroism, and that’s some of what Kaladin has had to struggle with, too--the fact that he can’t protect everyone and that his actions will lead to death sometimes.

Also, shoutout to Roshone for actually making a distraction here, good on you buddy. Anyway Lirin noticed that the parshmen always focus on what appears to be the person being seen to rather than, say, the people carrying the litter--probably because they’re used to the people doing those menial tasks being unnoticed and unspoken to, and have absorbed that norm of society? I don’t know, but Lirin is exploiting it. 

Oh man, someone has visited Hearthstone, someone who Abiajan refers to as having blessed them, and she demands that Lirin come with her and that nobody leave the town. It’s one of the Fused, and it’s interrogating people about Kaladin--and they noticed that Kaladin was there, and Lirin notes that he barely recognizes Kaladin anymore, referring to him as the “harsh man Kaladin had become.” 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, just let Kaladin babysit people this book, let him rest, he deserves it. I mean, what’s happening is him having to fight again, but he deserves rest.  

Cut to Kaladin’s perspective, Syl is delivering an “I told you so” about them being spotted, which is so relentlessly on-brand. Kaladin notes that he’s not looking at Lirin to avoid giving Lirin away, and also because “he knew what he would see. disappointment. So, nothing new.” 

HEY. SOMEONE LOVE AND APPRECIATE KALADIN STORMBLESSED PLEASE HE’S DOING HIS BEST. 

Meanwhile,  Kaladin is learning the different “orders” of Fused; he’s mostly dealt with the shanay-im, “those of the heavens,” who share the flight of windrunners. Apparently Jasnah posited there would be ten orders, logically, and Dalinar--offering no explanation for how he knew--said it would only be nine. I mean, at this point if anyone knows Odium it’s Dalinar. 

Also, this Fused has learned not to do single combat, which is Kaladin’s normal mode of dealing with them. I wonder if the order they’re modelled after affects their behavior--honorspren create windrunners, and agreeing to a one-on-one duel is a very honorable thing to do. Maybe there’s more connection there than either side wants to realize. 

Ok, so what we know about this new Fused: 

Teleports via shooting their spren forward, then forming a new body of voidlight and stone where they end up. 

Probably elsecaller-linked (teleportation and then forming things out of energy) 

Favors exploiting teleportation to allow for a grappling fighting style and sneaking into blind spots extremely quickly (big rogue energy) 

Teleportation ability is extremely costly, can only be done three times before needing to recharge on Voidlight. 

Does not teleport instantaneously; the spren-travel can be outrun, as Kaladin does by lashing himself forward five times (so, approximately five times the speed of gravity on Roshar, which is not gravity’s speed on earth, is faster than them; they’re considerably slower than light, even though that’s what they look like)

Can’t transport objects/make them from voidlight; clothing is a hair wrap and weapons are fragments of their skin

He leaves but tells Kaladin to watch for him; it also seems like Kaladin’s depression is coming back. Syl shows up to talk to him, wearing a different style--she’s been taking fashion notes from Adolin, which is hilarious. 

Meanwhile, Veil is wandering around the Sadeas warcamps, irritated that she hasn’t been kidnapped yet, or even mugged. Also, Veil and Shallan are apparently teaching Radiant to appreciate humor, which is great. Adolin and his soldiers are apparently backing her up for this hopeful kidnapping, which is reassuring--I’m glad she’s not going it alone, although she’s very competent. She’s pretending to be a merchant who has a way in past Dalinar’s tariffs and is also implying he doesn’t have the authority to demand them. 

Ooh, specifically Shallan is hunting the Hypocrite’s Association, which is what I’m calling the Sons of Honor for the moment I guess. For a moment, while they’re doing accounting, Shallan starts having a bit of a memory come back; Veil suggests it might be time to remember everything, but Shallan shuts that down. 

Apparently, in the grand tradition of Sadeases not knowing when they’re beaten, Ialai is plotting treason. Ialai, how did that go for the last two Brightlords Sadeas? I’m begging you, quit while you’re...behind, honestly. But still alive. Anyway, the wine was drugged--finally--so they have officially been kidnapped! 

Back to Kaladin,  Syl is trying to convince him that it’s easy to sleep, he just has to lie down and pretend to be dead for a few hours (oh, Syl, honey, you’re trying to help but that’s not...that’s not it) but Kaladin is noting that it feels like life is strangely disconnected for him, like it keeps going for everyone else and he’s in stasis. 

Chronic depression is a bitch. 

Syl cheers him up by doing a terrible Kaladin impression, though. I love her. Kaladin goes back to talk to the singers, telling them that there’s a shelter half an hour to the east and telling them not to fight if they don’t want to die. They, of course, fight, which Kaladin doesn’t like; it’s very Alethi of them, though, to throw themselves forward. 

Again, we’re back to whether or not there’s heroism in fighting a fight you can’t win. Even with Ialai, kind of--continuing to fight against Dalinar when she can’t win it. Hopeless fights are all well and good when your protagonists do them and it works, this part seems to be pointing out, but what if they fail? And how does it feel to be on the other side of them? 

Anyway, the others retreat, and Kaladin gets to meet with his mom and baby Oroden (who pronounces his name as “Gagadin;” i’m gonna CRY). Syl always appears to Kal’s family. Also, apparently Kaladin was dating Lyn, which is wild because I’m almost positive based on her appearance last book that she’s gay as fuck, and she broke up with him. Also, Syl and Hesina are ganging up on Kaladin and it’s great. 

"It’s demonstrably unfair that I have to deal with both of you at once,” Kaladin said. 

Meanwhile it also turns out that the Radiants haven’t been supporting Herdaz because they saw it falling as inevitable, but it’s continued fighting against all odds. Another perspective: is it alright to abandon others fighting a fight that you assume is impossible, when it could be winnable with your strength? 

Also, apparently the Mink likes to sneak away from his guards without letting them notice, and he’s done it again here. That’s pretty impressive, I’ve got to say, although Kaladin is aghast at the idea of leaving one’s men behind like that (of course). 

Also, Kaladin organized one of Navani’s platforms to essentially airlift out all of Hearthstone. Trying to save as many people as he can, even still. 

[clockwork-storyteller]

A Prophecy of Shadows

              ↳ a wip introduction by @clockwork-storyteller

❝ Our story begins in the land of Altisora on the 90th year in what was called the Age of Light. It certainly wasn’t the best of times, but it was certainly better than what had come before. It was better because the invaders from the Dark Realms had been confined within the Shadowwake. The Dark Realms had been trying to invade Altisora under the leadership of King Regevis. He wanted to make this world his own as well. The people of Altisora had been fighting back for decades, but had, thus far, been unsuccessful. Eventually, the gods of this world, whose names had been long since forgotten, stepped in. The people had forgotten about them in such a time of darkness, and they were quickly losing their power. So, they decided to save their people with what little power they had left. They gave their power to the people. Well, some of the people. 

The gods gave them the power to see beyond the mundane. They gave them the ability to see the future. ❞

BASIC INFO

title // A Prophecy of Shadows

genre // high fantasy; epic fantasy

pov // third person limited; multiple characters

status // outlining

themes // found family • destiny • free will • abuse of power • fighting against the darkness • lies and deception • love despite the darkness

SUMMARY

Seers wander the lands of Altisora, holding the power to see the future. But these Seers do not walk free. They are hunted by the three largest political powers in Altisora: The Layann Empire, ruled by Empress Rhea, The Kingdom of Sorgiia, ruled by King Azel, and The Allesani Territories, ruled by Sovereign Reyle, in an effort to keep their power. But as one Seer runs across Altisora in hopes of survival, they deliver one last prophecy. One that would change the fate of Altisora. 

For some context, years ago, the creatures from the Dark Realms had invaded Altisora. But with a gift from the long since forgotten gods, the Seers were given their power and thus contained the invaders into the Shadowwake. The Shadowwake is ruled by King Verebris, a mysterious and calculating ruler. 

Now, back to that big prophecy. The prophecy that stated that 3 heroes would rise up and take control of the Shadowwake. This prophecy was delivered in 3 parts, the first in Layann, the second in Sorgiia, and the third in Allesani. The towns in which each part of the prophecy was given to believe it to be about them, about one of their people. And neither of the towns know that there is more to the prophecy.  

Zell, from the town Sidécera in the Layann Empire, has been trained since birth to take her place as the hero from the prophecy. She, along with another member of her town, could fit the descriptors given in the prophecy. The two of them undergo a series of trials over the course of three years. At the end of those trials, the two will fight to the death. The survivor must be the only one worthy of fulfilling the prophecy, and Zell has decided that she will win. After all, she told herself that she’d ask out Ari, that cute flower seller at the market, if she survives. 

Hasea lives in Ulties, a city of hatred and fear. Everyone who was around to hear the prophecy has either left or died by the time it could be fulfilled. The prophecy has been a beacon of hope to everyone in Ulties. Well, everyone but the possible hero, that is. King Azel sent a troop of his cruel guards down to Ulties to patrol for the pirates rumored to be roaming the Southern Coast of Sorgiia, but Azel has an ulterior motive for sending those guards down. Hasea knows she could be the hero, but she also has bigger problems to worry about. Her and her older sister Bella need to help feed their family, and they can’t do that if Hasea’s off saving the world. 

Kair is the son of a prominent military leader, stationed in Teniris, one of the largest military towns in Allesani. Kair never knew about the prophecy, because Teniris is the town where the Seer who delivered the prophecy was found and killed. Kair does have a significant weight upon his shoulders, despite not knowing about the prophecy. He is expected to take over his father’s position as soon as he turns 21. But when Kair is invited to stay and study in the Sovereign’s palace, he can’t exactly say no, can he? And he can’t leave behind his best friend Ordza, who’s always dreamed of studying to be the Sovereign’s Chief Arcanist, can he?

And while these 3 heroes are walking right into their destiny, whether they like it or not, revolution is brewing across Altisora. A Seer’s Rebellion, to be more specific. This rebellion is led by Kiran, a young seer who hopes to end the public executions of their people. Kiran’s goal is to train a new generation of Seers. One who will survive, despite being hunted. But the seer’s rebellion is getting some unexpected help. Leonn Iborris, the son of King Azel, has been confronted with a terrifying realization, and would rather help the rebellion against his family than acknowledge the truth. 

CHARACTERS

ZELL: (she/her) Zell, one of the possible heroes of Sidécera, is strong and fearless, but only because she has to be. Zell has been raised since birth to be a fighter, but she wishes that she had the chance to just exist as Zell, not as the woman who will fulfill a prophecy. Despite being a fairly solitary person, Zell craves a close companionship that is hard to find when everyone sees you as a mythical hero instead of just a person.

ARI: (they/them) Ari has grown up working in their parents’ flower shop in the market of Sidécera, but they want more than anything to leave. Ari has never felt any real connection with anyone in Sidécera, and has been aching to let down the resilient walls they keep up day in and day out. But Ari will wait for the right moment to finally escape. They’ve gotten good at waiting, after all. 

HASEA: (she/her) Hasea is a cunning young woman, but she wishes she was anything but. Having to lie and steal to feed her family for years is exhausting, but Hasea knows that she doesn’t have much of a choice. She likes to dream that she could be the hero in the prophecy, though. No one is really considered important in Ulties. No one except for the hero, that is. And Hasea would love to be a little important, just once.

BELLA: (she/her) Bella has never hated Ulties the way most people do. She’s never hated having to steal to survive the way that her younger sister Hasea has. Whenever she lies to save herself or steals to keep her and her family alive, it makes Bella feel like she she has some control over her life, a feeling that’s fairly uncommon in Ulties. But she wishes she got to choose who to protect. She loves her sister, but has always been stifled by the obligation to protect her family just because she was born to them.

KAIR: (he/him) Kair has never had a shortage of responsibility. Raised by a prominent military leader, Kair has been taught since he was a child to prioritize his Sovereign over anyone else and forsake his own thoughts and feelings for his duty. But despite these lessons ingrained into him, Kair continues to care. He is kind in a world where that is one of the most dangerous things to be. Kair is a relentlessly optimistic man, despite his looming future.

ORDZA: (she/her) Ordza is an ambitious woman, which is especially foolish for someone in her position. As Kair’s tutor, she is expected to teach him and nothing more. But still Ordza wants more. She dreams of training to be the Sovereign’s Chief Arcanist, but she knows she has no chance. But still, Ordza wants more than what she’s been given. She wants the option of choice, rather than accepting how it is and refusing to want better.

KIRAN: (they/them) Kiran is a good and strong leader, and though they’d like to say it’s because they love leading the Seer’s Rebellion, that would be a lie. Kiran does love leading the rebellion, but they also deeply understand the need for such a group of people like them and the gravity of what they’re doing. As they’ve led the rebellion for years, Kiran has never had much of anyone to rely on and has bore the burden on their own. But when an errant prince decides to help, Kiran begins to rethink their reluctance to rely on others.

LEONN: (he/him) Much like his father, King Azel of Sorgiia, Leonn is a headstrong man. Just not in the way his father would want. Leonn is strong in his beliefs, which is good for a future king, but not when those beliefs differ so drastically from those of his father. Despite his high position, Leonn has very little sway over the governing choices of his father, but he stilly tries. He decides to help the Seer’s Rebellion rather than confront a harsh truth about himself. 

VEREBRIS: (he/him) Verebris is a child who was thrust into a war he wanted no part in. After the death of his father, Verebris prematurely inherited the throne of the Dark Realms, but he was quickly overthrown in a coup and used as a pawn in a game of politics. He wishes he had the power to take back his thrown and stop the injustices being committed by his people, but he knows that he’d be killed without a second thought if he tried. And and imprisoned king is better than a dead one, isn’t he?

RHEA: (she/her) Rhea is a manipulative Empress, to say the least. She is a woman who is comfortable in her power and makes sure everyone knows not to try and take it from her. Rhea is known for her political assassinations, a method she used to keep her subordinates in line. She has no qualms about lying to further her own goals, but would much rather flaunt her wealth and power in some extravagant manner than put in the necessary work.

AZEL: (he/him) Azel, much like Rhea, is a king who loves his power and will go to extreme lengths to prevent it being taken from him. He is a man who has had lots of power his entire lire, and has become quite fond of the feeling of being in complete control. Azel is also a stubborn man, but that same quality that is so positive within his son has caused him from losing Sorgiia quite a few political alliances.

REYLE: (they/them) Reyle is a cunning and calculating ruler, but in a way very different than Rhea. The Allesani government does not allow extreme amounts of power to go to the Sovereign, so they figured out how to use more power than they are given. Reyle has a talent in convincing people to accomplish their goals for them, which has allowed them to have more control over their people than one would assume. 

Tag List (reblog or ask to be tagged/removed): 

[rueitae]

Pinned Down

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

Pikelavar today! Inspired by @defendersofaurita dragon Meklavar

~~~~~

Pike slips silently into the cave, fully on guard. He doesn’t mind the darkness, his eyes allow him to see better in the absence of light than most. 

Though he can see just fine, he’s still on edge. Each step that should be second nature takes precious ticks longer. 

But extra cautious he must be, for invading a dragon’s lair means walking the thin line between the treasure of a lifetime or certain, grisly death.

Pike wouldn’t even be here if not for… if the lives of his niece and nephew weren’t on the line. 

“Bring me the Jewel of Jitan,” Bentok tells him with a smug, knowing smile - the knowledge that Pike is trapped. The crime boss sits back into his large throne-like chair and gently pulls little Nadia closer to him and strokes her ears. She’s terrified, tears staining her cheeks as she sobs, tail curled up and eyes shut tightly as if to pretend none of this is happening. 

Pike feels sick, unable to do a thing for his niece, nor his nephew, struggling in the arms of a nearby guard, lest all of them die here and now.

“As long as you succeed, the children will be in safe hands.”

Pike’s breath hitches at the memory. He must do this. The kids are counting on him, and he’s the only family they have left… the only family he has left. 

The floor moves. Pike holds his breath as the dragon stirs, stretching its feathery wings and relieving an itch on its belly with razor sharp claws. Pike is afraid he’s messed up and his late brother’s children will be doomed to a life of slavery with his death. 

But the dragon simply slumps over on its other side, snorting out a bit of flame, remaining deep in slumber. 

Pike only lets himself relax after a full minute of draconic snoring. 

He’s even more careful as he stealthily walks deeper into the cave, heart pounding in fear. His stomach is uneasy until he sees one object he’s very familiar with - a gold coin. 

A trail of them leads to the most glorious sight he’s ever seen - the dragon’s treasure room. 

Piles of gold litter the large cavern, and goblets of silver and jewels of every color cover every square inch. There are suits of armor, tapestries, and mechanical marvels he’s only heard rumor of when he sneaks into castles. 

Pike slaps himself, which he regrets because the rings he wears hurt. “Get your head in the game! Nadia and Sylvio are counting on you!” he whispers harshly. 

Treading softly over the treasure he keeps himself focused, using a discerning eye from years of thievery to try and find the item that Bentok seeks. He’s heard talk of it in darker circles, mages after it for its magical properties. Pike could hardly care, to him it's simply the key to freeing the kids. 

His tail stands on end when he reaches the back of the cavern. On a pedestal is a diamond the size of his fist, clearly special enough to deserve a spot of honor. Pike lets out a sigh of relief as he reaches out and takes it into his hands.

“You’ll be out of his hands soon, guys. Be brave just a little bit longer.”

Then the breath is knocked from his lungs.

In an instant he is face first in a pile of gold, hard jagged treasure pokes uncomfortably into his belly and cheeks. He gains leverage by putting his arms under his chest and tries to stand… but a massive force pushes down relentlessly on him.

“A thief? How dare you try and take what is not yours?” the dragon hisses and huffs. “I suppose I should expect no less of humans, much less a man.”

Well, that cleared up a few things. 

“I need only borrow it, lady dragon!” Pike gasps. “I can return it to you, just as soon as my niece and nephew are safe, I swear it!”

The dragon is silent for a few terrifying moments before rolling him over onto his back with the flip of a claw. She keeps one heavy on his chest as he gasps for breath. 

Her four horns form what looks like a crown, feathers dressed her wings like a robe over her scales. The claws… just as sharp and dangerous as he’d expected as the one on him begins to get uncomfortable, breaking his skin. 

Her eyes piece his soul just as much as her claw digs into his skin. They are angry, and looks so… so…

So human. 

“Mortal excuses are getting more pathetic by the day,” she growls. 

Arching her head back and breathing in, Pike whines in terror. She’s going to roast him to death!

“Please don’t! I’m not lying!” he begs.

She breathes on him, a thick smog that makes him cough, desperate for air. “N-no!” he struggles, not caring the claw drags down his chest, tearing his shirt in two and leaving a thin line of broken skin. “I can’t - he’ll never let them go.” he cries, skin crawling at the thought of Bentok trapping his nephew in a cage and treating his niece like a lap cat. 

When the smog clears and he still draws breath, he dares look back up to the dragon who still has him pinned. 

She no longer looks at him in contempt, rather one of pity.

“You tell the truth,” she says - more quietly than he’d ever expect. Releasing him, she steps back, eyes drifting to the distance, mind clearly elsewhere. 

Pike slowly rises to his knees, now feeling the stinging pain in his chest. “What did you do to me?” he asks, because magic was not his expertise and dragons were very magical. 

She does not look his way. “A truth spell… I saw the young ones from your eyes I-I am sorry… I too would do anything for my family.”

Gulping, and feeling a bit more bold now that he isn’t under threat of death, he takes the Jewel of Jitan from where it lies haphazardly on the piles of gold before standing. 

No sooner than he does, he’s wrapped in claws, arms pinned to his sides. He meets the dragon’s stony gaze. 

“But I cannot let you leave with the Jewel of Jitan,” she says definitively. “It is my duty to see to it’s safety. It has far more power than you know, disastrous when in the wrong hands. Especially one who would enslave children.”

Pike growls. “Then you know why I can’t just leave them there! I’m the only hope they’ve got! If I don’t bring him this hunk of rock I—” he chokes, then hardens his resolve, “you might as well kill me because I couldn’t live with myself leaving them to that fate.”

The dragon considers him for several long moments, more than he likes, as he lets her know by struggling in her grip. 

Eventually, she sets him back down.

“I will rescue your niece and nephew,” the dragon says, stunning Pike to stillness, “but in return, the three of you must live here. I cannot let definitive knowledge of the Jewel leave this cave, the world depends on it. Do you understand?”

What hope Pike feels when the dragon began talking turns to rage. “So we go from one prison to another?”

The dragon bristles, eyes narrowed in distaste. “You can choose me, who will gladly educate the children and perhaps one day let you all go should you earn my trust, or they stay with the man who will keep them as slaves, never to see their uncle again.”

The entire situation angers Pike still… but dragons are protective, and this one is definitely not evil. If true to her word it won’t be the worst life for the kids, and he can keep an eye on them. In any case, she's right, better her than Bentok.

Pike takes a deep breath, feeling just as trapped as when he was given his mission. Though he has no choice, he searches her golden eyes one last time for hope and truth. “You’ll really save them? And keep them safe after? They won’t just be a-a shiny toy for a few weeks?

The dragon looks almost offended he would even think that. “You have my word. On my name, Meklavar Forestguard, I swear to you and your family will be treated like people.”

He knows a dragon’s name is sacred, and for him just to know it seals his own fate to stay here. Slumping, he lets the Jewel of Jitan loose and it falls to the ground between them. “It’s a deal, Meklavar,” he says as strongly as he can. For Nadia and Sylvio. “The name’s Pike. You’ll have my blade for life if you save them.”

Meklavar grins, big and toothy, almost smug. “Let’s go hunting for organized crime scum, Pike.”

[ywiseul-blog]

hey ! you can call me nox ( they/them, 18+, cst, shooter for bts + girl groups ) & this is my quietly broody son, iseul ! i’m really excited to be here. i love stardew valley & harvest moon a lot so this is a basically a rp dream come true for me ! he’s a baking major & assistant librarian who still doesn’t really understand the farming life, despite living in yangwon for five years now. i’ll work on his bio soon, but for now here’s his stats page��& acceptance post which gives a little insight about what kind of person he is. under the cut you’ll find both a list of wanted connections ( mayhaps i’ll make a fleshed out plots page one day ... don’t count on it :/ ). if you want to plot feel free to hit the like button & i’ll fly to your ims immediately. or you can ask for either my discord or twitter if that makes things easier ( it definitely does for me ) !

wanted connections:

exes (any gender is fine. i love ex plots so please! it can be friendly or angsty. also i am willing to have iseul be the issue in the relationship because he can be rather ... prickly)

hookups (whether on a regular basis or an one night stand type thing. but the location would have to be on your muse because iseul still lives with his parents JKHGDFLKJGHD)

hey maybe a plot where our muses are trying to smash and they have to find out that iseul still lives at home? just for the laffs x

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

probably the one person who immediately made iseul feel comfortable when he first moved here, his ride or die, the best buddy (must have live in yangwon for at least five years)

childhood friends and/or childhood crushes (for people who used to live in seoul)

someone break down his walls he needs to OPEN UP

talk to him about fantasy! world of warcraft? elder scrolls? dnd? he’s here for it

same goes for horror/the paranormal. while he’s a sensible, logical kind of guy he’d definitely be up for any ghost hunting shenanigans!

his cooking class guinea pigs (he’s good at cooking but even he can have his mess ups sometimes)

maybe a sibling type relationship? he’s distant but he’ll be soft with anyone younger than himself. or maybe an older muse wants to curve his serious attitude and treat him like the kid he actually is

a bad influence (he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and also just needs to get out so please)

library regulars (give me overdue book fee comedic plots like your muse trying to flirt their way out of paying or things of that sort. also iseul being a nag about your muse being on the computer for longer than the allowed two hours. or just him ignoring your muse because he’s too wrapped up in whatever podcast he’s listening to. maybe your muse wants podcast recs from him!)

one-sided pining (i don’t mind who has the caught feelings)

mutual pining

enemies?!

maybe some bickering about his pro joja stance

someone he can bond with over former city life and how much they miss it (that sweet 4g, fast wifi speeds, the bright lights or anything else)

maybe a bullying/pranking type plot? he is a cushy rich boy nerd so. always down for him being relentlessly teased!

study buddies? maybe he tutors your muse and he gets to brag about just how much better your muse’s grades have gotten

some simple life-esque plot where your muse is determined to teach iseul about the farming lifestyle and he utterly fails at all of it

yangwon book club?!?!?!?!

anything you might be able to think of FDJKDKHGDSLKGJD

info dump:

his parents are well off and a little uptight but they love iseul and he loves them. he’s one of those overachievers who’d do anything for his parents. and they’re those people who nag out of love and maybe don’t give iseul the full praise he deserves. he doesn’t hold it against them but he definitely yearns for their constant approval

because of this iseul wears a constant image of feigned perfection. around them he is proper and upstanding, though on the inside he’s rather pessimistic and definitely still hurt over being hoisted from seoul and put in this middle of nowhere town

his parents would be shocked to learn that he curses let alone has any sort of negative thoughts about the life he’s been given. they grew tired of the hustle and bustle of seoul and wanted to retire somewhere quieter, but iseul merely longs for it years later. yet he refuses to leave because he wishes to be near them (his loyalty is ridiculous)

is he bitter? oh yeah absolutely. will he ever let anyone become aware of this? NOPE

books have always been a comfort for him and he loves being surrounded by them hence his current job position. it’s not something he wants to do forever (his true love is cooking) but it’s definitely better than the other options in yangwon. the thought of doing physical labor makes him shudder

he does more book collecting than actual reading especially in adulthood since he doesn’t really have the time for it anymore. but he loves getting different editions of his favorite books, like a different press or published in another language. this is usually what he gets for his birthday or other holidays

podcasts are his preferred form of entertainment. he listens to them constantly at work though he’s not supposed to. he’s gotten in trouble a few times for not paying attention closely enough / straight up ignoring customers, but he blames it on being an airhead, which he is absolutely not (insert video compilation of jungkook zoning out here)

if he gets less than eight hours of sleep a night he will just be a zombie all of the next day. and he’s an old man in that he gets sleepy around nine pm every night

he enjoys learning about people and their secrets but he refuses to open up to anyone in the same way

he’s absolutely pro jojamart sorry yangwon nation :/ he won’t keep quiet about it either so good luck getting him to shut up about it

he knows absolutely nothing about farming despite having lived here for a good chunk of time now (he thinks cows are really cute though)

his favorite flavor of anything is birthday cake. if it exists he wants it

he hates coffee (strangely enough though he loves cafes and will gladly hang out in one any time) and mostly lives off water and juice. maybe the occasional glass of wine when he’s feeling frisky

while he’s not the most considerate person he loves showering people he considers himself close to in baked goods for any reason possible

his opinions are black and white. he never stands in the middle on an issue. the only thing he’s not 100% sure of is whether he believes in ghosts or not. he definitely wants to but can’t fully get behind the logic of it

nothing gets on his nerves more than people who keep books for longer than they’ve checked them out for or when they hang out on the computers for longer than two hours. expect a glare if you do either of these things

he gets lonely a lot but he’s too stubborn to do anything about it

he’s absolutely afraid of commitment and having to express deep emotions to someone but he does crave affection (cuddling and kissing mostly) constantly

he likes to gossip about the people who come into the library and he loves to make up little fantasy lives for them because it keeps him from going insane at work

he acts very uptight about everything and loves to seem like he’s never had any kind of fun in his life but show him a cat video and he’ll immediately soften up

he’s a chaotic bi and all beautiful people of any gender makes him flustered but he tries not to show it (this usually fails)

he doesn’t have much dating experience and he’s too embarrassed to use things like tinder

he’s probably too much like his parents, old-fashioned ideals and all but he’s doing his best!

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2018 Day 2 | Another Universe AU

- (Endverse, Djinnverse, Purgatory etc)

Revenge of the Subtext | @mittensmorgul Rating: Explicit Word Count: 80,064 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Canon Divergence after 10.20, French Mistake style AU, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Humor, Smut, Crack, Light Angst, description of canon-typical violence, Supernatural Convention, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Human!Castiel Summary: Things are finally settling back down to normal since Cas gave up his grace to cure Dean of the Mark. Well, as normal as their lives are allowed to get. Sam relentlessly finds new cases to work, one right after the other; but Dean thinks they need a break to let Cas have some purely human fun, for once. It’s true they had a difficult time readjusting to humanity at first, but Dean thinks Cas deserves to do more than ride around in the back seat and follow them on monster hunts. Then again, Dean’s a little bit scared to ask exactly what Cas would want, just in case it doesn’t include spending quite so much time with him. And with Sam (of course). Sam’s been tracking a series of odd occurrences in Laramie, Wyoming for the last few weeks that looks just enough like a case to finally convince Dean they should go check it out. Whether they like it or not, the goddess responsible for the weirdness in Laramie takes an immediate interest in the three less-than-perfectly-happy hunters who’ve stumbled into her town.

He Who Made the Lamb | @alxdiamond Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,193 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Reconciliation, Angst, Future/Implied Canon Character Deaths Summary: When Dean gets thrust forward into a vision of ruin, he disrupts the careful equilibrium of apathy and resentment that has become the norm between his future self and Castiel. In a moment of respite at the end of the world, a broken shell that used to hold an angel and a desperate leader who lost everything but his cause find absolution in a bond that, though tangled and frayed, has never severed.

Our Bruises, Each Pristine | @cenedrariva Rating: Explicit Word Count: 35,326 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Implied/Referenced Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Croatoan!Dean, Emmanuel, Enemies to Lovers, Amnesia, Healer!Castiel, Endverse Summary: Dean couldn’t remember the time Before. The people. The outbreak. Being bitten. There was nothing but the feral pleasure of the hunt, the symphony of years of screams echoing across his mind. So what if he couldn’t remember? It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. So why did Emmanuel—compassionate, sharp-tongued, incandescent Emmanuel—make him want to remember?

trying to keep you | @candybarrnerd Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,995 Main Tags/Warnings: Mentions of interrogation/torture, Praise, Cleaning, cleaning body and soul, Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, endverse Summary: He reaches out for Dean’s wrists, using the grip to pull Dean’s hands from his pockets, and up to inspect. As he expected there’s still traces of blood on his hands. They’ve been washed, but it’s still there, under his nails and in his cuticles. “Cas—” “Don’t,” Cas interrupts him. He doesn’t know what Dean is planning on saying, but knows nothing good can come of it. Cas drags his eyes back up to Dean’s face, and this time Dean looks at him, eyes locking on each other. “Just let me take care of you.” Dean is a man possessed with a goal, the goal to get the colt back, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Cas’s only goal is to make sure the man he knows is still there when the dust settles.

Dream On | @50shadesofsubtext Rating: Mature Word Count: 9,103 Main Tags/Warnings: Djinn, Alternate Season 10, Mark of Cain Summary: Dean jolted upright in bed drenched in sweat. Fucking Djinn. He looked around the room and saw the picture of his mom under his lamp, guns and knives adorning the wall, and took a breath- he was home. He cautiously slipped out of the covers, grabbed a knife, and creaked the door open. Peering down the hall, he took one silent step out, then another. He didn’t know if this djinn granted wishes or fed on fear, so he needed to get a feel for this world, and he would be ready for whatever happened. When Dean is trapped in a djinn dream, he tries to find a way out, but soon questions if that is something he really wants.

This is life that’s so thankless | @the-grace-of-fallen-angels Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2081 Main Tags/Warnings: angst, end!verse, Dubious Consent, Somnophilia, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Substance Abuse Summary: Just some Dean/Cas end!verse angst and sex

Don’t live in the past |  @the-grace-of-fallen-angels Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,928 Main Tags/Warnings: porn, angst, violence, S&M, end!verse Summary: In the year 2014, Dean and Cas have an ‘arrangement’. They sleep with any women they want as long as they are the only guy for each other. Till Past!Dean shows up, whom Cas likes, a lot. When Dean discovers Cas broke their arrangement, he becomes consumed by jealousy and possessiveness, hitting and claiming Cas as his own. Cas gladly takes all the pain if it means he can finally have Dean all to himself.

Almost | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,963 Main Tags/Warnings: spn usual violence, vampires, blood, hurt!cas, djinn dream Summary: Dean finds himself in more and more different situations that always end the same way. He almost kisses Cas. Will he manage to do it in the end?

The Roman Mistake | @firefly124 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,957 Main Tags/Warnings: post-13x10, french mistake-esque Summary: Jack and Kaia rescued Dean and Sam from the “bad place,” but home isn’t safe yet, so he sends them and Cas somewhere else while he deals with Asmodeus. Why he picked Rome in a universe like the one Balthazar sent them to is more than Dean can figure out, especially since he and Cas are busy answering questions from … fans.

Sounds Like The End Of The World | @envydean Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,783 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Omega!Castiel, Alpha!Dean, switching, PWP, Sounding Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,  Bittersweet Ending, Drug Use, Established Relationship Summary: Dean may be an Alpha but he takes at being submissive to Castiel like a duck to water.

[wanderingaxiety]

Peasant Quotes

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He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Peace

Home

King

All men are by nature equal, made all of the same earth by one Workman; and however we deceive ourselves, as dear unto God is the poor peasant as the mighty prince.

Plato

Nature

God

Men

Every marriage tends to consist of an aristocrat and a peasant. Of a teacher and a learner.

John Updike

Teacher

Marriage

Aristocrat

A peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away its pork. What is significant, and is so difficult for the urban stranger to understand, is that the two statements are connected by an and not by a but.

John Berger

Difficult

Stranger

Pig

I want there to be no peasant in my kingdom so poor that he cannot have a chicken in his pot every Sunday.

Henry IV

Chicken

Poor

Kingdom

Scratch a Russian, and you'll find a peasant.

Milla Jovovich

Find

Scratch

Russian

They're thinking of turning the peasant into an educated man. Why, first of all they should make him a good and prosperous farmer and then he'll learn all that is necessary for him to know.

Nikolai Gogol

Good

Man

Thinking

I mean, my people were very, very simple. They were peasant people, you know?

James Earl Jones

Simple

People

Know

I believe in reincarnation. In my last life I was a peasant. Next time around, I'd like to be an eagle. Who hasn't dreamed they could fly? They're a protected species, too.

Lee Trevino

Life

Time

Fly

The peasant must always be helped technically, economically, morally and culturally. The guerrilla fighter will be a sort of guiding angel who has fallen into the zone, helping the poor always and bothering the rich as little as possible in the first phases of the war.

Che Guevara

War

Angel

Rich

My wife was the first art collector in the family, and I didn't become interested until around 1973. The first important artwork we bought was a Van Gogh drawing of two peasant houses in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer.

Eli Broad

Family

Art

Wife

They eat the dainty food of famous chefs with the same pleasure with which they devour gross peasant dishes, mostly composed of garlic and tomatoes, or fisherman's octopus and shrimps, fried in heavily scented olive oil on a little deserted beach.

Luigi Barzini

Food

Famous

Pleasure

What motivated me? My mother. My mother was an immigrant woman, a peasant woman, struggled all her life, worked in the garment center.

Al Lewis

Life

Mom

Me

I cook a little bit. I make a Hungarian dish called chicken paprikash that's out of this world. I'll give a heads-up to all of your readers that it doesn't have to be between Thai and Mexican every night. Toss some Hungarian in every once in a while. You will not be sorry. Good, solid peasant food.

Adam Carolla

Good

Food

Night

You know most of the food that Americans hold so dear - things like hamburgers and hot dogs - were road food, but even before they were road food, they were peasant food.

Alton Brown

Food

Hot

Road

We must always remember that the Chinese revolution was not a peasant's revolution, but one of the extreme Right.

Salvador Dali

Remember

Always

Revolution

We want to overthrow the imperial power not because it is Manchurian but because we want republicanism... We republican revolutionaries can never have the notion of becoming emperors after the revolution, like all the peasant rebels did in the past.

Sun Yat-sen

Power

Past

Never

There is but one stage for the peasant and the actor.

Henry David Thoreau

Stage

Actor

I don't ever want to be like a peasant. I want to always be all right. But motivation is fans - not your kids, your mum, none of that. All of that matters, but number one is your fans.

Young Thug

Fans

Always

Right

That a peasant may become king does not render the kingdom democratic.

Woodrow Wilson

King

Kingdom

Become

I am an African-American woman of dark skin tone, and there are very specific roles that are usually given to African-American women of a darker hue. Let's start with 'Once on This Island': peasant girl. Let's go to 'The Color Purple': young girl, beaten. Let's go to 'Ragtime': Her baby's taken.

LaChanze

Women

I Am

Skin

The earth is the earth as a peasant sees it, the world is the world as a duchess sees it, and anyway a duchess would be nothing if the earth was not there as the peasant sees it.

Gertrude Stein

World

Earth

Nothing

For an Italian peasant a telegram from anywhere is a wondrous thing; and a cable from the terrestrial paradise of America is not lightly to be disregarded.

Howard K. Smith

Paradise

America

Anywhere

I come from a long line of below-stairs maids and gardeners. Good ol' peasant stock. My mother and her sister made a quantum leap out of that life. Then I made another quantum leap.

Julie Andrews

Life

Good

Long

Remember the valiant Iraqi peasant and how he shot down an American Apache with an old weapon.

Saddam Hussein

Remember

American

Down

I am a peasant from the Auvergne. I want to keep my farm, and I want to keep France. Nothing else matters now.

Pierre Laval

I Am

Nothing

Want

The poor peasant here hives under conditions quite different from those of Russia. Though often terrible, they are not as appalling as they were there.

Herman Gorter

Poor

Russia

Terrible

If ever there was a slamming of the door in the face of constructive investigation, it is the word miracle. To a medieval peasant, a radio would have seemed like a miracle.

Richard Dawkins

Face

Door

Radio

I like army boots, I like peasant skirts - sometimes together! So I do know that I have odd taste.

Mayim Bialik

Together

Sometimes

Know

I like Sicilian food. It's real peasant food.

Raymond Kelly

Food

Real

Like

I do not have voice for Russian music; I cannot be cute little peasant like in operas of Glinka or Rimsky-Korsakov. I am now never in Russia; I am Austrian citizen. But definitely I am Latin!

Anna Netrebko

Music

I Am

Cute

There aren't many great passages written about food, but I love one by George Millar, who worked for the SOE in the second world war and wrote a book called 'Horned Pigeon.' He had been on the run and hadn't eaten for a week, and his description of the cheese fondue he smells in the peasant kitchen of a house in eastern France is unbelievable.

Sebastian Faulks

Love

War

Food

I am for poetry that is admired by peasant and aristocrat alike.

F. Sionil Jose

Poetry

I Am

Aristocrat

To me, the most critical thing in agriculture is investing in the peasant agriculture, transforming peasant agriculture.

Jakaya Kikwete

Me

Agriculture

Critical

The whole world feels that it knows Francis, not so much because he follows Francis of Assisi but because he is always himself. We have seen him pay his own hotel bill and heard that Francis called Buenos Aires for a pair of ordinary black shoes, like John XXIII, who preferred stout peasant shoes to the traditional papal footwear.

Eugene Kennedy

Black

World

Shoes

The Breton peasant is said to have a hard head. He is obstinate and resists outside pressure to alter his creed or his customs.

Sabine Baring-Gould

Pressure

Hard

Outside

I remember I once went to a nutritionist who said I come from good Russian-Jewish peasant stock, which means I can hold a potato in my body for a week, if need be.

Jennifer Jason Leigh

Good

Remember

Body

Border collies predate the British Kennel Club. They've been bred consistently for 100 years. They're the last working dogs in the world, with some minor exceptions. Bench shows, dog shows have ruined the other breeds, like the hunting dogs. Border collies are peasant dogs, and that's protected them.

Donald McCaig

World

Dog

Bench

The knish is a classic example of peasant food evolving into comfort food and even sophisticated fare.

Gil Marks

Food

Comfort

Comfort Food

You go to Europe, and they have their very wealthy elites, and then everybody else is, you know, a couple of steps above a peasant, basically.

Ann Coulter

Know

Go

Europe

There are two classes of women in Soviet Russia. There is the professional class, which has taken the place of the nobility and includes government officials, artists, doctors, composers and writers as well as former members of the old nobility whose sympathy is with the Soviets, and also the peasant class.

Elsa Schiaparelli

Women

Government

Sympathy

Tolstoy didn't know about steampunk or cyborgs, but he did know about the nightmarishness of steam power, unruly machines, and the creepy half-human status of the Russian peasant classes. In 'Anna Karenina,' nineteenth-century life itself is a relentless, relentlessly modern machine, flattening those who oppose it.

Elif Batuman

Life

Power

Know

Most people, throughout history, haven't learned one language to the exclusion of another. You learn to speak differently to a peasant and to a shoemaker. You speak differently to your mother, who comes from Burgundy, and to your father, who comes from Swabia.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for friday, October 16 of 2020 with Proverbs 16 and Psalm 16 accompanied by Psalm 25 for the 25th day of Autumn and Psalm 140 for day 290 of the year

[Proverbs 16]

People go about making their plans,

but the Eternal has the final word.

Even when you think you have good intentions,

He knows your real motives.

Whatever you do, do it as service to Him,

and He will guarantee your success.

The Eternal made everything for a reason.

Even wrongdoers fit in His plans; troubled times await them.

He abhors arrogant people.

Make no mistake about it! They will be punished!

The penalty of sin is removed by love and loyalty;

and by devotion to the Eternal, evil is avoided.

When people make good choices, He is pleased;

He even causes their enemies to live peacefully near them.

Better to have little and stand for what is right

than to become rich by doing what is wrong.

People do their best making plans for their lives,

but the Eternal guides each step.

The king makes a decision under divine inspiration,

but he must never render an unfair judgment.

The Eternal requires that business be conducted honestly;

He wants fairness in all your dealings.

When kings commit evil, it is despicable,

because their thrones should be built on justice.

Kings admire those who tell the truth;

they adore those who set the record straight.

A king’s rage signals that people will die,

but whoever is wise will pacify him.

If a king is smiling brightly, life will be granted;

his favor is like a cloud swelled with the first spring rain.

How much better it is to receive wisdom than the riches of gold

and to gain understanding over some silver prize!

The highway of the just bypasses evil;

those who watch where they’re going protect their lives from sin.

Pride precedes destruction;

an arrogant spirit gives way to a nasty fall.

It is better to be humble and live among the poor,

than to divide up stolen property with the proud.

Those devoted to instruction will prosper in goodness;

those who trust in the Eternal will experience His favor.

The wise at heart have a reputation for understanding;

pleasant words make the lips more persuasive.

Understanding for those who have it is a spring of life,

but it is pointless to try and instruct a fool.

From a wise heart flow careful words;

wise words make the lips more persuasive.

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb:

they drip sweet food for life and bring health to the body.

Before every person lies a road that seems to be right,

but at the end of that road death and destruction wait.

People work to stay alive,

pressed daily by their need to eat.

Good-for-nothings conjure up evil ideas;

their conversations fuel destructive fires.

Perverse people stir up contention;

gossip makes best friends into enemies.

Violent people try to recruit their neighbors,

wanting to lead them down the vile path of evil they have chosen.

Body language can expose a person’s intentions:

whoever winks the eye is planning perversity;

whoever purses his lips is intent on evil.

Gray hair is a crown of honor,

earned by living the right kind of life.

It is better to be a patient man than a mighty warrior,

better to be someone who controls his temper than someone who conquers a city.

We may try to control the roll of the dice,

but actually, the Eternal decides what they will determine.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 16 (The Voice)

[Psalm 16]

The Golden Secret

A precious song, engraved in gold, by King David

Keep me safe, O mighty God.

I run for dear life to you, my safe place.

So I said to the Lord God,

“You are my Maker, my Mediator, and my Master.

Any good thing you find in me has come from you.”

And he said to me, “My holy lovers are wonderful,

my majestic ones, my glorious ones,

fulfilling all my desires.”

Yet there are those who yield to their weakness,

and they will have troubles and sorrows unending.

I never gather with such ones,

nor give them honor in any way.

Lord, I have chosen you alone as my inheritance.

You are my prize, my pleasure, and my portion.

I leave my destiny and its timing in your hands.

Your pleasant path leads me to pleasant places.

I’m overwhelmed by the privileges

that come with following you,

for you have given me the best!

The way you counsel and correct me makes me praise you more,

for your whispers in the night give me wisdom,

showing me what to do next.

Because you are close to me and always available,

my confidence will never be shaken,

for I experience your wrap-around presence every moment.

My heart and soul explode with joy—full of glory!

Even my body will rest confident and secure.

For you will not abandon me to the realm of death,

nor will you allow your Holy One to experience corruption.

For you bring me a continual revelation of resurrection life,

the path to the bliss that brings me face-to-face with you.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 16 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 25]

Don’t Fail Me, God!

King David’s poetic praise to God

Forever I will lift up my soul into your presence, Lord.

Be there for me, God, for I keep trusting in you.

Don’t allow my foes to gloat over me or

the shame of defeat to overtake me.

For how could anyone be disgraced

when he has entwined his heart with you?

But they will all be defeated and ashamed

when they harm the innocent.

Lord, direct me throughout my journey

so I can experience your plans for my life.

Reveal the life-paths that are pleasing to you.

Escort me along the way; take me by the hand and teach me.

For you are the God of my increasing salvation;

I have wrapped my heart into yours!

Forgive my failures as a young man,

and overlook the sins of my immaturity.

Give me grace, Lord! Always look at me

through your eyes of love—

your forgiving eyes of mercy and compassion.

When you think of me, see me as one you love and care for.

How good you are to me!

When people turn to you,

they discover how easy you are to please—so faithful and true!

Joyfully you teach them the proper path,

even when they go astray.

Keep showing the humble your path,

and lead them into the best decision.

Bring revelation-light that trains them in the truth.

All the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful for those who follow the ways of his covenant.

For the honor of your name, Lord,

never count my sins, and forgive them all—

lift their burden off of my life!

Who are they that live in the holy fear of God?

You will show them the right path to take.

Then prosperity and favor will be their portion,

and their descendants will inherit all that is good.

There’s a private place reserved for the lovers of God,

where they sit near him and receive

the revelation-secrets of his promises.

Rescue me, Lord, for you’re my only hero.

Sorrows fill my heart as I feel helpless, mistreated—

I’m all alone and in misery!

Come closer to me now, Lord, for I need your mercy.

Turn to me, for my problems seem to be going from bad to worse.

Only you can free me from all these troubles!

Until you lift this burden, the burden of all my sins,

my troubles and trials will be more than I can handle.

Can’t you feel my pain?

Vicious enemies hate me.

There are so many, Lord. Can’t you see?

Will you protect me from their power against me?

Let it never be said that I trusted you

and you didn’t come to my rescue.

Your perfection and faithfulness are my bodyguards,

for you are my hope and I trust in you as my only protection.

Zealously, God, we ask you

to come save Israel from all her troubles,

for you provide the ransom price for your people!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 25 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 140]

A Prayer for Protection

For the Pure and Shining One

King David’s poetic song

Lord, protect me from this evil one!

Rescue me from these violent schemes!

He concocts his secret strategy to divide and harm others,

stirring up trouble one against another.

They are known for their sharp rhetoric

of poisonous, hateful words.

Pause in his presence

Keep me safe, Lord, out of reach from these wicked and violent men,

and guard me, God, for they have plotted an evil scheme

to ruin me and bring me down.

They are proud and insolent; they’ve set an ambush for me in secret.

They are determined to snare me in their net like captured prey.

Pause in his presence

O Lord, you are my God and my saving strength!

My Hero-God, you wrap yourself around me to protect me.

For I’m surrounded by your presence in my day of battle.

Lord Yahweh, hear my cry.

May my voice move your heart to show me mercy.

Don’t let the wicked triumph over me,

but bring down their every strategy to subdue me

or they will become even more arrogant!

Pause in his presence

Those who surround me are nothing but proud troublemakers.

May they drink the poison of their own poisonous words.

May their slanderous lives never prosper!

Let evil itself hunt them down and pursue them relentlessly

until they are thrown into fiery pits

from which they will never get out!

Let burning coals of hellfire fall upon their heads!

For I know, Lord, that you will be the hero

of all those they persecute,

and you will secure justice for the poor.

Your godly lovers will thank you no matter what happens.

For they choose and cherish your presence

above everything else!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 140 (The Passion Translation)

[splat-dragon]

“Any last words?”

“I am a Son of Dutch.”

the lasso fastened tight around her throat, and she was yanked harshly off of Speakeasy’s back

 The sheriff, looking greatly disappointed and vaguely hurt—they’d been good friends, after all, when she’d passed herself off to him as nothing more than a bounty hunter—fit the noose around her throat

  Dutch rolled his eyes, knocking her hands away as she fussed with her tie; she wasn’t one for dress-up, usually, but he needed someone that could fit into small spaces and none of the men could, other than Javier but they wouldn’t be able to get a Mexican passed the guards, so it had come down to dressing her up like a man. He pulled the tie tight, and she grimaced; he shook his head, amused, loosening it enough she could breathe

 Sheriff Malloy, refusing to look her in the eye, stepped away, standing next to the lever, beginning to address the crowd. The rough rope of the noose scratched at her throat, and she couldn’t help but to wonder how many other people had died at the end of it, only vaguely listening to Malloy as he listed off her crimes, eyes scanning the gathered crowd, more interested in her than him.

  Arthur’s eyes watched Dutch keenly, and he wasn’t the only one. There was an odd sort of pride in Hosea’s eyes, and an adoration among the gathered others, as their leader spoke to them. His voice cracked, rose and fell, and she found herself, too, enraptured. She understood, then, how he had convinced so many to follow him.

 Evan looked up, looked passed them, half hoping to see Arthur, or Charles, Javier or Bill or any of the others, barreling in, masked and ready for a gunfight. But she’d be furious if they did, she’d put herself here saving them, and if they were recognized the whole gang would be put in jeopardy, would be hunted down relentlessly, would have to move far, far away again.

  the heist had gone so, so wrong, and they were running, spurring their horses as hard as they dared. John was bleeding, propped up against Arthur’s back, Old Boy following them loyally. Javier and Bill were yelling, bleeding, too, but not half so bad as John, cracking shots off over their shoulders; she was bringing up the back, covering the rear, letting Speakeasy have his head while she shot lawman after lawman, but there was no end to them

 So, no, it would be better if she was lost to them, if she was hanged, if it meant they were safe.

  they had thought they were safe, had lost the lawmen and taken shelter under an overhang. She’d been catching her breath while they licked their wounds, Arthur wrapping up John’s as best he could; they needed, desperately, to get him back to camp so he could be tended to properly. Evan had been fine, only a few scrapes, so she’d taken watch

  she’d been the first to hear the lawmen, naturally, their hooves thundering on the ground. She could only guess they’d followed John’s blood, she didn’t know, still doesn’t, never will. But she shouts a warning to the others, and they’re on their feet in moments, helping Arthur get John onto his horse, mounting up

  they spur their horses, still exhausted from the frantic sprint, bolting back towards camp. She knows, though, as she sits in Speakeasy’s saddle, that they won’t go to camp. Will circle and dart back and forth, won’t come within a mile of camp until they’re certain they’ve lost the lawmen

  and John doesn’t have that time

  so she whirls Speakeasy around, making sure her pistol is loaded, before digging her heels into his sides. He screams, and surges forward, Evan low on his neck, hoping that she’ll survive this, knowing she’ll come out, at best, badly hurt

  they take a corner, startle the lawmen. Startle them more when, instead of turning or stopping, they charge forward, barreling through them, sending them scattering. She spurs Speakeasy, seeking to gain as much ground as she can while they’re regrouping, turning to fire over her shoulder to make sure she has their attention, and to check that, yes,

  all of the lawmen have taken after her, abandoning their pursuit of the others

 She could only hope they’d take care of Whiskey and Duchess and Merchant and Underwood, that Kieran or Arthur or even both, maybe it would be better if it were both, they loved those horses, would find them good homes, or keep them in the gang, put them to good work. Whiskey, big as he was, would be perfect for little Jack to learn to ride on, he's so slow and sturdy and steady and she was sure he’d put up with the boy. Hoped, maybe, that they’d give Whiskey to Jack, let him live out his twilight years with the kid, leave something to show she’d been with the gang, to show that she’d done some good.

 Evan wished, more than anything, that they had hold of Speakeasy. That he’d managed to get away from the lawmen, fled when she’d been pulled from his saddle. That he hadn’t been so damn well trained, hadn’t stopped and waited for her to mount up again.

 She didn’t know what they would do with him, after, and that uncertainty scared her more than anything. He was a good horse, and she loved him, and he deserved far better than to be some lawman’s workhorse. Deserved, after her death, a lazy retirement of fresh grass and oatcakes, getting fat while carrying around some little kid. Or hauling around a little cart, carrying produce to market. Not being shot at, possibly by the very outlaws he’d helped protect, until he died beneath an indifferent lawmen.

 Shit, she hoped they told Cripps. The old man would have no way of knowing that she was dead, only that she’d never come home. Never wrote him, never told him to move camp again. Not unless her hanging managed to make it into the paper, and he happened to buy that paper. She hoped it did, and that he did. After all, a bounty hunter so notorious as to earn a name from the Del Lobos, being revealed as an infamous outlaw? And being hanged for it, besides? 

 That all hinged on Cripps buying that particular paper though and, considering how far they were camped from a town, she didn’t think he would.

 He knew, though, that she ran with the Van Der Lindes from time to time. Knew the vague area that they were camped in.

 So, surely, if she never came home, he would seek them out? He cared for her, she knew, or at least the income she brought in, the clothes and the furnishings, so surely he would ask them if they’d seen her. Or, at the least, write them? She’d told him their pen-name, how to get ahold of them, just in case, and her never showing up�� well, she’d damn well say that was an emergency.

 So Evan hoped that they’d take him in. They already had Uncle, after all, so what was one more senile old man? Especially one that was at least somewhat useful. If they didn’t, well, she didn’t know where he’d go. Horley and his mistress were gone, so he couldn’t just go back to them.

 She hoped, more than anything, that they’d take him in. Him and Tad, god, they both needed a good home. Tad could help them hunt, after all. He wasn’t too loud, and he was a damn good hunting dog. They always needed money, and food, and he could help them get both. Besides, they had Jack, and a boy, any kid, always needs a dog. And Tad would make a fantastic first dog for the kid. So, really, they didn’t have any reason to not take the two in; they would only be a boon for the gang.

 The sheriff was reaching the end of his speech, although she’d long stopped paying attention and, she saw, those who had lent him half an ear had, as well, far more interested in the outlaw only moments from death. Evan wanted to look to Malloy, to seek some sort of comfort from her friend before she died, but she refused to, fixed her eyes on the crowd. She’d betrayed him, and he likely hated her for it. What right had she to beg comfort, to beg forgiveness, just because she was about to die? At his hand, no less. The man was already hurting, and being made to look into her eyes as she died, whether abruptly as her neck was snapped, or slowly, suffering as she was strangled, wouldn’t be fair to him, and though she was an outlaw she had enough empathy to keep her eyes on the crowd, barely able to hear his speech drawing to an end over the rapid thrumming of her heart. It bounded in her chest, leaping and racing, as though it knew they soon would come to an end, was trying to wring as many beats out as it could.

 “She shows no remorse, and neither shall we.”

 Evan raised her head, gulping around the noose that felt tighter and tighter, watching as the Sheriff tightened his hand on the lever.

 She looked over the crowd, those countless faces that she’d seen so many times, could never put names to. There, the gunsmith, some dull sort of horror on his face as he realized why, exactly, she came in so often to buy ammunition. The butcher she'd dare say she was friends with. The stable-hand, the general shop owner. All people she had met, had known well, but that hadn’t truly known her despite what they had thought.

 “I am a Son of Dutch.”

 No one in the crowd would remember that she said it. They might think about it, sure, for a few hours. Wonder over it, whether she truly was a Son of Dutch, if they were nearby or if she had strayed and wandered. But come morning they’d forget about it, would forget about even her, that brief entertainment they’d gotten from watching her hang long gone. Maybe the butcher, the gunsmith, would remember her for longer, but he, too, would forget about her. And the Van Der Lindes would, eventually, as well. As would Cripps, and Horley, and Flaco, and everyone else she’d ever known.

 Sheriff Malloy would, for sure. At least for a couple of days. Were the Van Der Lindes around? he’d wonder. Finally, though, he’d write it off as the last, desperate words of a criminal, trying to buy herself a few more hours, hours in which she’d be interrogated as to the Van Der Linde Gangs whereabouts, hours in which she could stage her escape.

 In the end, though, she would be forgotten, as everyone was.

 But oblivion scared her, as it did any outlaw. She wanted to be remembered, as any outlaw did, to go out in a blaze of glory. In a gunfight, trying to get away from the law, with money and spoils to bring back for her family. Would have been much happier dying earlier, while luring the lawmen away, alone and in the brush, instead of in front of a bunch of people who didn’t care, who were only there seeking some sick entertainment.

 She needed to say it. That she was loyal to Dutch. That, in the end, her heart belonged among them, far away now, by the campfire, surrounded by the sounds of loud voices and guitar playing, by the thudding of woodcutting and the whickering of horses. With the people who had, somehow, earned her trust and her loyalty. None of whom she had ever told, and so she wanted someone to know. To say it, out loud, if only ever once, this final time, and know that someone would hear her. She was about to die for them, and she could only hope that they-

[spncanonbigbang]

Masterpost 2017

Under the read more you’ll find the list of all the mini and big bangs from this year’s event. Enjoy and see you next year!

| 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020

MiniBangs

Shut Up and Dance, Dean Winchester by Ailuromatron | art by emmatheslayer 8,3k; Teen and Up Audiences; Castiel/Dean Winchester

Dean is not going to think about the way Cas’ sudden withdrawal overlaps with the mental feedback Dean’s been experiencing here. He wouldn’t know what to make of it anyway, whether it’d be ironic or fitting or what. But if Castiel shutting him out turned out to be because Dean is loosening up, letting ideas form in his head more clearly than before—that would burn like a hot blade, and it just doesn’t bear looking too closely. It’s not the only thing tonight that doesn’t bear close inspection for the sake of Dean’s sanity. He damn near trips over his own feet when confronted by the south side of a north-facing Cas—seriously, when and where did he get that pair of ink-black jeans and in what universe is the way they fit his thighs not illegal?—and he’s pathetically grateful for the excuse of a rough patch of asphalt to blame it on when the others turn back to see what happened to him.

Misery & Solace by theackles | art by thruterryseyes 5k; General Audiences; Dean Winchester/Castiel

It’s been a week. One long, painfully numb week. The days went by one by one until Dean didn’t know what day it was anymore. Dean can feel the ache in his bones. He can’t move, he can barely think. He’s gotta get Cas back, even if it means working with Rowena and (almost) killing himself in the process.

A Lesson in Adapting by distortedrain | art by emotionallyunstabl 5,6k; Teen and Up Audiences; Castiel/Dean Winchester

The Winchesters settle into the Bunker and learn to hunt a little less a live a little more.

Fin ad Infinitum (The End Evermore) by AmberAnnh | art by lux-tuli 8,5k; PG-13; Gen

In “The End” Dean got the chance to see the future, zapped to a 2014 where the consequences of his choices had played out. Now, it’s Sam’s turn. Transported from 2009 to 2014, he must grapple with a demonic virus from his past, angels using the remnants of humanity as disposable vessels, the devil in his nightmares, and—perhaps worst of all—why Dean said “yes” to Michael.

If These Rooms Have Memories by KelpietheThundergod | art by malallory 12k; Mature; implied Castiel/Dean Winchester

Sudden light and sound make him flinch, but then, oh—cartoons! Awesome. Except then, the tall man comes over and takes the button-thingie out of his hand and shuts the cartoons off. “Dean, listen. The witches are gone, and they’ve got the Grimoire. We’re gonna do a spell to slow down the curse to buy some time, and then—” The man cuts himself off and his serious expression turns into one of exasperation. “You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Something Special by Durenjtmusings | art by Busy Squirrel 11,3k; General Audiences; Gen

What makes something special? Special enough for people to pay any price, beyond even their lives? Welcome to Lost and Found, Ltd., experts in finding very, very special things. Things that can be yours if you are willing to trade something very special in return. Well, and often even if you aren’t. [Canon-compliant possible backstory for both characters and objects in Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Ruby, Jimmy Novak, Daniel Elkins, the Impala, Ruby’s knife, Dean’s Colt, Sam’s Taurus, the Samulet and The Colt.]

Exit: Light by hexmaniacchoco | art by quiescentcastiel 22,5k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

Dean, Sam, and Cas are relaxing in the bunker when Sam finds them a case involving three college students who’ve gotten themselves into trouble while playing a summoning game they found online, resulting in a nearly fatal incident. After investigating and figuring out what people are summoning into their homes, they decide to summon it as well in order to kill it. However, things aren’t quite what they seem at first, and a misjudgement of the situation finds TFW with the disadvantage as they walk around a pitch-black bunker trying to search out the creature they’re hunting without mistaking each other for it instead.

Mirror, Mirror by Jerksarehot | art by emmatheslayer 10,6k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

A witch with a taste for human souls reveals a secret to Dean before escaping with a promise to return. The boys recruit some help from Bobby to find a way to track and kill her. Dean must now decide if he should tell Sam the truth and risk losing him, or keep his dark secret and risk Sam’s life and his own soul.

The Night Goes By by indigoneutrino | art by Loracine 8,3k; Mature; Gen

It’s a long night when Sam and Dean first arrive at the prison, separated from each other to be strip searched, manhandled and humiliated before being thrown into cramped concrete cells. The nights that follow are longer.

Some Kind Of Monster by Hermit9 | art by Dmsilvisart 6,8k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

After leaving the Bunker and the Winchesters, Castiel attempts to earn his penance (again) by tracking down the escaped Lucifer. Crowley tagging along is both a blessing and a curse, the silver-tongued devil an asset during the investigations. If only he didn’t drive Castiel out of his mind. Set during and around “American Nightmare” up to “Rock Never dies”

A Mother’s Love by Leahlisabeth | art by kuwlshadow 5,2k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

Mary loves her boys, really she does, but she can’t quite seem to click with Sam. She’ll need to figure it out when a mother’s love is the only thing that can save him from a witches curse.

BigBangs

Always Stuck In Second Gear by ThayerKerbasy | art by dmsilvisart 29k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

After Wendy Vincente spilled the location of her brother’s secret cabin, Agents Beyoncé and Jay-Z had a lead to follow. Tracking Lucifer while confined to a pickup truck wasn’t exactly Crowley’s preferred modus operandi, but at least he was in good company.

and by me, i mean us by puckity | art by winchesterchola 16,5k; Explicit; Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester; Very Light Sam Winchester/Castiel

After what they think was just a routine case, Sam starts feelings things that he can’t quite put a name to. Things that aren’t really his but aren’t not his either. So he does what he always does: runs some tests, collects the data, and starts drawing conclusions. And then Dean does what he always does–comes in and tangles everything, including Sam, up. Timelined in early Season 12, prior to “First Blood” (12.09).

Blue Moon Rising by Treefrogie84 | art by Mayalaen 56,1k; Mature; Dean/Castiel, Dean/Lisa Braeden, Castiel/Dean/Lisa Braeden

Dean promised Sam that he would walk away from hunting, walk away from his family, and live some normal apple-pie life with Lisa. He did his best to do that– pulled the weapons out of the trunk, turned his back on Cas and Bobby, started spending his evenings with Lisa and Ben at Little League practice. But monsters don’t stop hurting folks, Hell doesn’t stop being Hell, and Heaven doesn’t start caring about humanity just because Dean’s retired.

Thunder on the Mountain by Skitty | art by kuwlshadow 23k; PB-13; Gen

A string of strange and seemingly unrelated tragedies are plaguing the Appalachian region. Children disappear. Men go insane. Hikers are mauled by large animals. And always…traveling Northward. Sam and Dean pick up the hunt in a small town outside the national forest. The creature they’re hunting is one of legend, feared by the native tribes that once populated the area centuries ago. With the unexpected aide of a strange woman also appearing to hunt the creature, the boys must attempt to bring it down before they lose their minds completely.

An Even Trade by PaperAnn | art by GlitchedWings 42,7k; Explicit; Sam Winchester/Gabriel

You’d think being relentlessly pursued by a tall, dark and handsome hunter would be an exciting game of chase. Until it wasn’t. Gabriel was growing bored of Sam Winchester’s constant tailing, still obsessed with getting his brother back, even though the Trickster was doing the kid a favor by offing Dean, thank you very much. He had to make this entertaining again, this new merciless killing-machine-Sam was no fun. They entered into a deal: Sam would work a case under the guise of a Trickster to see the reason behind the mischief by serving up a case of Just Desserts. If Sam won? He got Dean back. If he lost…well, Sam wasn’t going to lose, no matter the cost. Except, seven days of living on top of one another made Sam see beyond the monster who ruined him and back to the witty, cute janitor he met at Crawford Hall. There was also the problem of the two men, who were clearly attracted to each other, alone in a motel room for a full week. It was an accident waiting to happen. The puzzle was, neither knew who was manipulating who, if it was all a ploy or real emotions were coming out to play. The only thing both men recognized was something real was happening. And they were running out of time.

Lock & Key by MyShipWillNeverSink | art by Gabedrawz 18k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel

Canon divergent from 9x03. Dean and Cas set off on a hunt as a distraction from the guilt Dean feels for betraying his brother’s trust (again). Things go awry when Castiel falls through a frozen river, and things aren’t at all what they seem.

Build a Home by domesticadventures | art by myukur 20k; Teen and Up Audiences; Dean/Cas; background Sam/Eileen and Krissy/Josephine

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t.

What Went Wrong Yesterday by cinnamonanddean | art by stormbrite 16,2k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

With Broward County in their rearview and a new case in their laps, Sam struggles to come to terms with the six months he spent alone after Dean’s death - and the fact that it never happened at all. And on top of it all, he now has to deal with the feelings for his brother that have been dragged to the surface.

The Heart of Ophelia by anyrei and mugglerock | art by nonexistenz 39k; Explicit;  Dean Winchester/Castiel

Always throwing himself in harm’s way for the Winchesters, Castiel ends up getting hit with a love curse. Under the influence of fabricated emotions, Castiel learns just how dangerous unrequited love can be. And Dean learns what it means to doubt everything he’s ever believed. They have a week to find a way to lift the curse, otherwise the intoxication of “love” will kill Castiel. Literally.

When Words Fade, Music Speaks by Pinkmink | art by Dreymart 16,9k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel

The Brits have Dean running ragged all across the country. When Cas returns from his not-so-brief time in Heaven, Dean finds them a case in New Orleans. It’s supposed to feel like a Winchester version of vacation - voodoo, good food and a simple salt and burn. But the trip turns out to be a far more cathartic release than he bargained for.

Fight or Flight by ellispark | art by emotionallyunstabl 23k; Mature; Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

Just when Dean’s started to feel good about his life — the end is not nigh, and his brother and his angel are safe in the bunker — Sam and Cas start keeping secrets from him. It’s not a big deal, at least not at first. Everyone needs to play some things close to the chest. But when Dean finds out what they’ve been hiding, the bubble of carefree happiness he’s carefully placed around his family finally bursts.

Long Distance by grey2510 | art by Marsjay 18,9k; Teen and Up Audiences; Jody Mills/Asa Fox, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

Losing someone is never easy, nor is having them far away, no matter how often it happens in a hunter’s life. When Jody, Sam, and Dean travel up to Canada for the wake and funeral of Asa Fox, each is forced to confront some truths about family and who is really important in their lives.

Entwined Souls by sweet-sammy-kisses | art by lux-tuli 16,3k; Teen and Up Audiences; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Sam was all prepared to spend eternity in the cage trapped at the mercy of Lucifer and Michael if it meant that Dean would be safe. What no one counted on was Chuck to come back or turn out to be God. With Ellen, Ash and Jo brought back as a thank you gift for all the boys have done Dean and Sam are at a loss of what to do when Chuck announces he is taking the angels back to heaven and closing the gates of hell up. There is one thing the boys both want and that is the one thing they are afraid to go after, each other. But after almost losing each other one too many times they decide to take a chance and now the life of retirement is discovering the next step in their relationship.

Humanity's Angels by Ami Rose | art by sevenspirals 94k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Background Original Characters OT3

To get their minds off of Kelly Kline, Lucifer, and the BMOL, Dean and Sam take a case in Northern Arizona where a rogue angel was seen flashing his wings at a film festival and ranting about blasphemy. They quickly realize that there might be more to this case than they’d initially thought. The angel fits all the characteristics of being a ghost—EMF readings, see-through body, air chilling ability, and all. A local man is found with his eyes burned out like he was the victim of a smiting keeps them in town after salting and burning the angel’s buried vessel in hopes of dispelling his ghost.

Between all of this, Dean is finding it hard to keep his feelings for Cas under wraps. Especially when everywhere he looks and everyone he talks to reminds him of how much energy he’s spent hiding his sexuality from his family over the years.

Will watching the ghost angel’s grieving best friend mourn the loss of the angel he’d loved spur Dean into confessing his own feelings before it’s too late? Will an angel from Cas’s past be able to succeed where Ishim failed? Who the hell has Sam been texting? Will someone please tell Mary what the hell is going on with her sons? Will any of Team Free Will learn to use their damn words?

[jaewvns-blog]

░ ° » VILLAS TASK 004 – FAMILY! 〉

easily an introverted kid, jaewon didn’t grow up with the conventional loving family ( surprise ! ). being the only child, his mother and father wanted everything “perfect” in their lives which included their son. even if it was at the expense of their individual relationships, they were willing to sacrifice his happiness and healthy image of what a family is supposed to be like in order to ensure he would thrive professionally in the way that they wanted. so smash that read more to find out just how awful his family really is !

SEUNG-BIN JEE ( FATHER )

jaewon’s parents were always a duo, withholding strong beliefs that they forcibly fed to jae. his father was the more quiet out of the two, yet the most passive aggressive when it came to expressing his distaste for piano. his focus was education, a stable and reassuring path to success which was brought up every night at the dinner table. his father was the type to drop subtle comments around the house whenever jaewon was near, popping in and out of his room while he practiced piano relentlessly to ask, “why are you wasting your time?” considering his father was a successful and well-known doctor, his biggest aspiration was for his son to follow in his footsteps into a profession of his own choosing. however, when what was supposed to be a hobby turned into jae’s growing fascination, he quickly tried to deter him onto the path that he wanted for jae which turned into elaborate and elevated arguments. there was never any comfort that came from his father, and jae learned fairly quickly that he didn’t share the same relationship that the average son shared with a father. his father shot down any attempts to bond, only leaving for a broken and defeated jaewon whom gave up on all efforts all together eventually. with such foreign emotions at a young age, jae could only be met with the constant furrow of his brows at how calm and collected his father was around other people, offering smiles all around compared to the stone cold gaze that he offered jaewon. it was like his father treated him with a sense of professionalism – a patient whom he would pick and prod at for his own self-benefit. he wanted to have his sons future planned out his way opposed to how his son wanted it to be, each comment serving as an attempt to wither him down until he gave up resisting. his father passed away from lung cancer when jaewon was the age of sixteen, yet jaewon had little to no time to grieve over the man whom was so unfamiliar to him before his mother latched onto his throat – it had only just began with her.

DAIN JEE ( MOTHER )

his mother was very similar to his father, yet more outspoken and forthright with what she thought of piano. typically dain fed off of his father’s comments, quick to back him up with an antagonizing smile. being very manipulative, she always turned the tables on arguments to make jaewon feel like they were his fault for not listening to his parents, making him out to be a disrespectful boy who was ungrateful. she was a majority of the reason that jaewon always kept his mouth shut and took the heat, nervous that she would twist his words into something that he didn’t mean. like his father, jaewon learned fairly quickly that he didn’t share the same relationship with his mother that the average son did. there was a lack of comfort, love, and empathy when it came to her, and her chocolate brown hues were stale with a lack of love when she looked at her son. it wasn’t until his father died at the age of sixteen that dain really turned up the heat, forcing his fathers ideals onto him much more forcefully because of her desire to carry on his memory. she would even go as far as threatening to take piano away if he acted against her wishes, forming his passion into a bait of sorts to bend his will in her own twisted direction. it was like his father had become a trigger for her, dain turning from a mildly ( and i say mildly very very loosely ) sane manipulative person to a harsh and cold human being. she always ensured jaewon that he would merely turn out to be a “lowlife playing piano in some cheap restaurant” along with other hurtful comments. the first thing she said to him in the hospital was, “at least now you can move on with your life.” jaewon is insistent on keeping her out of his life, her efforts to stay in contact slowly diminishing throughout the years as their relationship has grown stale entirely. when his accident happened, his mother was nothing short of relieved and had no problem saying that.

BENJAMIN AHN ( BROTHER ) & TAEMIN/MELODY AHN ( SECOND “FAMILY” )

if you were the ask the only child if he has any siblings, his response will always be “yes.” ever since he was born, jaewon has known nothing more than the reassurance that comes with his relationship to benjamin. the two practically raised each other, being the support system of love and comfort that neither of them received from their parents. they’ve been through thick and thin, yet their relationship has never deterred for a minute. an unspoken bond always ties them to one another, plans for their futures and recollections of their past only solidifying the love that they share. though their relationship has never changed, many aspects of their personalities have, the two of them by each others side throughout it all. they’re a constant – a reliable variable that one another will always have accompanied by the comfort of a confidant, a best friend, and a brother. benjamin is the only family that jaewon has ever known, and though sometimes he gets lonely, he couldn’t ask for anything more. as for the other two ahn’s, jaewon has always seen them as family, though he hates them just as much as he hates his own parents. growing up as neighbors, both of their mothers ( and their similar tastes for manipulation ) made them into best friends. they spent much time throughout the week at one another’s place, practically becoming conjoined homes. their parents fed off of each other as means to make the two boys miserable, believing that it was mere “discipline.” the similarities in their lives only pushed the two boys closer, making them damn near inseparable now. though the ahn’s are people whom jaewon will always hold a similar distaste for, he’ll forever be grateful to have the brother he never got.

PARK SOL-BOYEOL & KIM JUMI ( GRANDPARENTS )

though his grandfather passed when he was young, his grandparents have always been a small ray of hope in his life. one of his favorite memories involves his grandfather and how he would set up scavenger hunts for jaewon whenever his family would go to korea to visit, having a plethora of actives for him to complete. those were times in which jae felt the most at piece in his life and the most able to act like a kid given that his parents never allowed that at home. being the grandparents on his mothers side, they’ve always remained mildly in the dark and oblivious to the way that jaewon was treated / the seriousness of his injury. though his grandfather passed away long before his injury, his grandmother was only given a mild and vague debriefing of the incident until benjamin contacted her and told her the real story of what happened to him. ever since then, his grandmothers relationship with his mother has completely tarnished; a family torn at the seams. every once in a while his grandmother reaches out to make sure he’d doing well and insists that he visits. part of jaewon is scared though with consideration that he hasn’t seen her since before his accident.

DANIEL THORN ( PIANO INSTRUCTOR )

daniel thorn, being a well-credited and known pianist, had picked jaewon up from a very young age and made him his pupil. his instructor, his coach, and one of his few friends ( given jae was originally a very introverted kid ) he saw the endless potential in jaewon and his exceptional skills. he was his star student, helping him to flourish and grow to the best of his ability. given the ridiculous amount of hours that they spent together a week alongside all of the traveling that they did with one another, the two of them were so close that their bond appeared unbreakable. if anyone was ever anything close to a father figure in his life, it was daniel thorn. his world quickly came crashing down after his accident, however, words of praise for acing his juilliard audition turning into pleads from thorn to not give up. every visit that he paid to jaewon in order to persuade him into not giving up and working back to where he was was enough to break and crack at his crumbling exterior. he pushed him away and thorn reluctantly let him, reassuring him that he’d always welcome him back and work with him again; a plea to not give up. thoughts cross his mind of thorn all the time, the thought itself upsetting him given how important he was in his life. though his thumb hovers over the green call button, he’s always too reluctant to press it.

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/colin-farrell-nicole-kidman-talk-yorgos-lanthimos-sacred-deer-means/

Colin Farrell, Nicole Kidman talk Yorgos Lanthimos' 'Sacred Deer' and what it means

The name Yorgos Lanthimos may not ring any bells for many moviegoers, but that name brings A-list actors to work on his films as Colin Farrell did starring in "The Lobster." Critics are often undecided about his films and some, like Seattle Times Moira Macdonald had this to say about his latest: "The Killing of the Sacred Deer review: What the hell was that?"   "Yorgos Lanthimos’ “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” is the kind of movie that you watch with two simultaneous emotions: fascination and the desire to leave immediately." His films, which he writes with Efthymis Filippou, are deadpan, midnight-black comedies that carry out grim allegorical absurdities to extreme ends. Characters speak stiltedly in cliches while an intensifying menace envelopes them. Things get weird, and then they get brutal. And yet Lanthimos is not only a regular on the festival circuit (his latest, “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” premiered at the Cannes Film Festival) but he has earned an Oscar nomination (for the script to “The Lobster”) and drawn eager stars like Nicole Kidman, Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone. “The Lobster,” a dystopian satire of 21st-century mating, was even a surprise box-office success, earning $9.1 million in 2016 — pretty good for a low-budget movie in which loners are hunted in the woods or turned into the animal of their choosing. I absolutely loved "The Lobster," and wanted to ask Farrell what interested him to do such a fantastical film. If you've not seen it, it is a must to appreciate the fine actor he is. Farrell had watched Lanthimos' "Dogtooth" a few years prior and found it very disturbing and provocative. That was enough plus a different type of script. "I was confused by the script and a little bit disturbed by it, but ultimately moved by the end of it," the actor said. "Rachel’s character and my character were just so bizarre; I don’t imagine that I’ll ever do a film that’s more unusual than this. Possible, but I don’t imagine." “The Killing of a Sacred Deer,” which stars Kidman and Farrell and features the breakthrough performance of Irish actor Barry Keoghan, opened last weekend with similarly packed art-house theaters. Farrell and Kidman play the parents of a suburban family terrorized by a young man (Keoghan) who’s a vague figure of comeuppance come to force Farrell’s heart surgeon to kill one of his two children as retribution for an earlier sin. Earlier this fall at the Toronto International Film Festival, we were able to round up Lanthimos, Kidman, Farrell (who also starred in “The Lobster”) and Keoghan to discuss their surreal and divisive film, and the peculiarities of acting in a Lanthimos film. Some might assume from your films Yorgos that you don’t have very much patience for small talk. Lathimos: I prefer the small talk to the big talk. I’m not a big talker, am I? Kidman: He’s quiet. He’s an introvert, but not in his filmmaking. Nicole, how did you get in contact with Yorgos? Kidman: I pursued him relentlessly, and he finally gave in. Yorgos: You like saying that. I turned her down for 50 films. Kidman: We had met. We had food together and chatted. That was a nice meeting. Then we had sort of a texting relationship. I was doing a play in London. He told me about the script. I said, “That sounds interesting, Yorgos.” Did you find it easy in describing the film the cast, Yorgos? Lanthimos: Never get yourself into a situation where you have to describe the film. Farrell: “It’s 104 pages of joy!” I loved it. It was remarkably different from “The Lobster,” in tone, but also existing in a grossly idiosyncratic world. It was a mystery to me, as “The Lobster” was. It’s very seldom for me that you get to read writing that is so remarkably unique. The only other time that I had a similar feeling was with Martin McDonagh (“In Bruges”). Keoghan: It was a weird film, a weird script, but I loved it. It’s a different kind of acting, you know? You don’t act in it. It was just a challenge. I think he hates actors, as well. Is it acting? It’s certainly a different kind of performance. Kidman: He doesn’t like “acting,” am I right? He always says, “Stop acting.” Lanthimos: What do you mean? There’s a lot of acting everywhere, all over the place. (Laughs) Kidman: He says, “You’re doing too much. Stop it.” Farrell: The best direction in 20 years of doing this job I’ve ever heard is him screaming from a monitor to an actor: “Stop trying to be so naturalistic!” Lanthimos: Because that’s the worst! You see the effort of someone trying to be like real life. You go, “I’m embarrassed. Don’t do that.” Kidman: I think I embarrassed him a lot. Farrell: It takes habituated behavioral responses and pushes them to the side. It kind of presents subtext as reality and so you don’t have to play subtext at all. It feels to me to be a really honest world. Yorgos, the title refers to Euripides’ “Iphigenia in Aulis.” How related to Greek tragedy do you consider the film? Farrell: He had a genetic disposition to arrive there, and he couldn’t avoid it. Lanthimos: These are matters that we’ve been concerned with since ancient years, but they’ve actually become more taboo. I get a sense that this film upsets people because of the themes and the story. It did puzzle me in the beginning how much people are scandalized by being shown certain situations. It’s even more impressive when you realize that similar stories used to be a more common thing. Why do you think that is? Lanthimos: I think we’ve become very conservative. We elevate as important certain things and then others we consider them taboo, and we don’t touch them. There’s a facade in general that we try to use to seal ourselves from certain things. I don’t have answers but just to poke a certain nerve. Did the experience of making the film mimic the story’s trajectory from comedy to bleakness? Farrell: If you scream into the wind for 12 hours without anyone around, you’re going to be a little bit insane for at least another 12. We almost shot in continuity so it got darker and it got bleaker and it got weightier the closer we got to a decision that’s made in the film. I was depressed by the end. It got under my skin for sure. Keoghan: I’ve not acted since, basically. (Laughs) Kidman: And we were in confined spaces. We were shooting in a (Cincinnati) hospital which is a very strange environment, anyway, to be shooting in. I was walking with bare feet and they were like, “Put your shoes on! You’ll pick up some weird bacteria.” Barry, you’re especially creepy in this. Did you know you had that in you? Keoghan: I kind of did. (Laughter) Especially that spaghetti scene. I was like: “Turn up the creep-mode.”

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar's Pillage 6 FINAL: Okay

Beriphitar's Pillage Chapter 6 - Okay:

The sounds of searching, questioning people torment my ears, but I'm afraid that if I reach up to cover them, my aching body will tumble from the tree branch it lies upon. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to tie myself in a sleeping bag to a high tree branch like I was a resourceful archer, when I didn't even have the vision for how she did it in the first place?

The branch is not even wide enough to turn over, and who knew lying on a round object would make one more likely to roll off? This sucks. At least they probably won't be able to see me all the way up here.

Volunteers and lawmen push through the tangled woods together like the teeth of a comb- a wide toothed comb, however. I can see nothing from my prison of fabric, rope, and leaves, but it is my educated guess that they're spread thinly.

It would take the full force of the town's small population to be spread thick out here. To make the odds better, with how selfish, cold, and apathetic I believe these people to be, they would not bother, not even for a precious human like the one whose camouflaged grave they've probably already unwittingly trampled over. The volunteers, with their untrained eyes, concern me even less than the fat, lazy lawmen.

And then, it hits me in the crotch. This happens when I'm on my back sometimes, when it only seems natural that I should be touching my penis. Against reason, I begin to shuffle my way out of the sleeping bag. If I drop anything, it could lead them to me if they pass by this tree. I scoot out, leaving the bag tied to the tree branch.

I sit up against the trunk, undo my zipper, and take Mr. Happy out of my pants. I'm already really hard. I stroke myself, and it feels absolutely amazing. Unable to resist, I pleasure myself hard and as fast as I can, using my left hand to give extra treatment to the tip of my dick. "Aaahhh!" Within a minute, I spurt semen everywhere with a loud moan.

I feel the world turning, and once my blown mind regenerates, I find myself hanging off the side of the tree branch, tangled in rope. Ugh, I want to leave this stupid tree already. When will the search be over? Who cares about one little female?

I maneuver to straighten my situation out, but I must not have tied the rope as well as I thought, because it comes loose, and I'm tossed carelessly on the ground. I hit hard and with a groan. I try to stand, but find that my knees and one of my ankles are decently fucked up.

I'm so, so tired of all this bullshit. My supplies are left up in the tree. Keeping my ears and eyes alert for any disturbance in the foliage around me, I fight my body, splintering bark, and gravity to get up the tree again. I collect my things and descend messily, exhausted now.

I don't give a shit. I'm leaving these woods. I listen to the dim voices through the thick bushes, leaves, and humus.

I close my eyes to form a picture of the location they're coming from, and set my path so that it doesn't collide with the noise. I knew this wouldn't work, however, and a couple of frayed edges from the spread of seekers brush across me.

Here's where Beriphitar does it again. I lift up the mini crossbow I purchased at some point in my journey, and shoot the 30 year old man right through his neck. While the woman searching with him is wasting time reacting with a scream, I'm loading another bolt.

I fire at her, but she's just gone into flight, so I miss. Fuck. Voices rise in response to her cries. The spider has sensed a disturbance in the web, and is coming to check what's been caught.

Both the brown ponytail woman and I flee, because there's nothing else for either of us to do. I don't even go to harvest my  freshly hunted prey. I'm frustratingly slow, lumbering through the woods in thick winter clothes, and with the bags on my back. I refuse to drop them, though. I've already lost too much.

I look over my shoulder, praying to luck, I suppose, that I don't see those damn orange vests coming in the dank woods behind me. Please, just one more, then this life can end, and my dominant spirit will find a new, free body to reeve in all over again.

The cold air rattles through my sore pipes in shaking, pathetic torrents as I drag my feet forward as fast as I can. I realize with a sense of doom, that I'm going in the direction of the town. I'll be seen for sure, but like I said, just one more. Give me the miracle of 2 minutes and a... oh! That's perfect.

I see luck personified in a female form walking along the path on the outskirts of the wood. She screams as I barrel into her. I pull the writhing, crying girl to my body, and cover her mouth with my gloved hands. "Shut up!" I whisper harshly and hoarsely. "Shut up, and maybe I'll let you live." There is no chance of that, unless someone comes to save her.

She continues to struggle, but I wrestle her down onto the paved dirt. Her feistyness is wasting a lot of my time, so I punch the back of her head and neck until she settles somewhat. I want some fight, don't get me wrong, but I can't handle too much right now. I hear shouts approaching. The sighting of me generated a lot of excitement.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears as I peel the female's tight jeans down her soft flesh. Her underwear digs into her skin as I tear it off. "Please! Please stop," she says, crying hysterically. I pray again no one hears. Just let me get it inside her.

I practically rip my zipper off in my desperation to get my penis out.

Sitting on the back of her thighs, with my hand pressing her head to the packed dark dirt, I stick her like a pig with my dick. I fuck her hard and fast, relentlessly using her ass and pussy to get myself off. I'm still fucking her, begging for one last blow, when from the corner of my eye, I see the first orange vests coming out of the woods for me.

They're yelling things at me, but I'm not looking or listening. My eyes are bound only to the task before me, my wet dick fucking and ruining the reddened, unwilling ass of the crying girl pinned under my weight. Someone is approaching me fast, but I manage it. I manage to keep pumping until I come, and a hard dam bursts inside my balls. The come is still pouring from my twitching dick as people drag me off of the female.

The echoes of wails and accusatory words whirl in the air around me. "Animal." "Crazy." "Are you okay?" "Horrible." It all blends together into human monkey noise. It's meaningless. It's all completed, but they still continue to talk as if something special needs to be done.

Cold metal clicks around my wrists. My arms won't spread from behind my back anymore. Someone hides my penis inside my pants again. I scream in the disturbed faces around me, "Molester!!! Molester! Molester!" until I'm cut off by laughing.

The sound that fills my ears is empty, cold, and hopeless, but it quiets the pointless cacophony around me. The triumphant roar from my chest booms through the open cavern of my mouth as I'm roughly pulled at. I can feel the hatred and hurt in their many clutching hands, the things I've inflicted flooding back against my body.

I cease my final cry of existence, but not because they've told me to. I'm remembering Uorthem. I should've killed him. Strangled him.

I thought that this would've been enough, but a human never seems to have enough, even right after they get their greatest current wish.

My head slumps, and my face blanks. Many such regrets rack me, and shred my heart. I was striding along with the people before, as a graceful loser, but now they have to drag me- a sack of heavy sins and filthy deeds.

I see in my future a strip search, a holding cell, derogation, frowning men and societal scorn, due process, and court rooms.

I only wonder, when in all that, will I be unsupervised with a rolled bed sheet and something high that can hold my weight?

A hundred footsteps pound the pavement. Lights and flashes assault my eyes as I'm crammed into a lawmen's car. So this is how my life winds down, huh? "Whatever," I think, but I still sigh.

So the monster has been caught. Mourning families and general sympathizers will bitterly curse me as the law tries to make me pay. Let them have their moment of unity as a fist, striking down on a piece of particularly concentrated evil in their swarm.

They will never be able to crush it all, not even when they see the dandelions of desire seeding again. It will reset. The joy as the old people recover and/or die, the hatred and the selfishness, and the sadness of the cycle.