Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?
A/N: I’m a sucker for these “fake relationship” stories ;))
Y/N pulls the phone from her ear, her frustration drawn out in the creases in her brow.
“Well?” Dean asks, sat opposite her at the library table. Before him lies an open lore book, on a page about Nordic gods and how to kill them, and his cup of coffee sits dangerously close to the irreplaceable relic. With Sam out doing some shopping, it’s just the two of them at home, trying to dig up some info that might be useful for future use.
Pinching her brow, the young girl shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“Yes.” She says, trying to sound convincing, but its of no use, because the elder Winchester has known her long enough to see past her facades.
Living together for nearly five years now, calling her his best-friend even feels like an understatement. They got to know each other a while back through a hunt involving a Tulpa in California; Y/N’s kill, but the boy’s happened to jump in on it and help out. Surprise surprise: a friendship sparked, and ever since then, the relationship has flourished greatly.
To Dean, Y/N is family, just like Cas or Charlie or any of the other members of their little rehabilitation program they’ve picked up over the years. And with that, he knows—well enough—that despite her efforts to dismiss it, something is nudging at her mind.
“Obviously not. You seem like you’re about to explode. What is it?” He shuts the book and leans forward. Y/N still looks exasperated; still tries to act like she isn’t, and fails terribly. When she finally lifts her gaze, her expression is that of defeat.
“It’s my sister.” She says mournfully. “She’s calling me about her wedding coming up this month, and wants to know if I’ve been signed up to the family news letter that allows me to see all the updates on things like which floral arrangement we’re going to have. Surprise surprise—I’m not.”
“Damn.” Dean says plainly, still not seeing the reason behind her chagrin. Y/N rolls her eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but the smile that she suppresses says otherwise.
A sardonic laugh escapes her. “Yeah, damn indeed.” She rises from her seat, downing her coffee. Dean glances at his, then stretches it across to her. She finishes it in a single glug.
“So….what now?” He leans back in the chair. “You don’t know the floral arrangements? Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I don’t know anything about this wedding, Dean. I don’t know where it’s gonna be, I don’t know who’s gonna be there, and—until I few seconds ago—I didn’t know I’m going to have to be in Boston next week. S/P/N mentioned it in the newsletter but….” Her voice drifts off and she folds her lips into a straight-line, shrugging.
“What’s in Boston?”
“The wedding, apparently. Who even gets married in Boston? Yuck.” Y/N scowls.
“Your sister, apparently.” He almost rolls his eyes. “Right, so…go to Boston. Show up for the rehearsal, see your family, have fun, and then get back here once everything’s done.”
Dean explains it like it’s so easy. To him, it is. Wedding prepping can’t take more than three weeks, can it….? He wouldn’t know. He’s never had the chance to even be part of a wedding, but he assumes that that’s an appropriate estimate.
But, from the way Y/N bites her lip and averts her gaze to the floor, a look teetering between guilt and embarrassment on her face, maybe he’s wrong.
“Yeaahhh….” She draws out, skeptically. “Uhm…about that. It’s not as easy as it sounds…”
“Uhm…?” He quirks an inquisitive brow.
“I…sorta…told them that I have a date to the wedding and,…” Y/N gestures in the air, but doesn’t finish her sentence.
Dean watches her with a knitted brow, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come, until realizations strikes. His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o”.
“Yeah…” Her cheeks are dusted with a feint blush and she looks away.
Dean doesn’t want to say it, but he can’t help but think how cute it is—really cute. The only thing that can compete, he thinks, is the way her eyes disappear into her cheeks when she smiles.
As embarrassing as it is, he has almost an entire list like that about Y/N; things he thinks are adorable about her, things like her laugh, to he way she’s so awkward around big crowds, or how she has an undeniable obsession with space. Little things. Cute things. It goes on and on, infinite and growing each day, the more and more he gets to know her…but he’ll never admit that.
Because he can’t.
Because Y/N is family, and she’s just a friend.
“Well…is it like a must to bring one along? You could always just tell your family that you guys…broke up? Maybe he cheated. Maybe the love fizzled out.” Dean offers, shrugging.
Y/N looks at him with an un-amused expression. “Great thing to mention right before a wedding.”
“God, I don’t know.” Getting up from his seat, he rolls his eyes. He shuts the book and a gust if dust billows from it, then fixes it under his arm.“You’ll figure it out. It’s you.”
Y/N doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she looks to the floor, arms crossed over her chest.“Well,…there is something I thought about doing, but—God, I don’t know. What if, like—” She finally looks up.
Dean waits for the bombshell he knows she’s about to drop with a cautious, furrowed brow,
“—I asked Sam?” She finishes, her expression hopeful; her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s squinting slightly. The elder Winchester feels the wind get knocked out of him at hearing this.
His eyes widen. “Sam?”
“Not to actually be my date!—just to fool my family for the two weeks. Do you think he’ll go along with it?”
“I don’t get it—why don’t you just—“
“I can’t tell them I don’t have a date, because I already told them that I do. Going back on my word now will just make me look ridiculous, Dean. Just…”Y/N sighs and shuts her eyes. Dean can read the desperation in her features. He bites his lip, contemplating Y/N’s offer.
Sam, going on a date with Y/N. The idea is so ludicrous, so unbelievable that it sounds completely silly, like imagining pigs fly or anything of the nature. He can’t bring himself to even picture the two of them together, but…
He then feels something stir in his gut at the thought, a warmth, a….jealousy?No. Hopefully not. It’s been ages since these feelings have managed to surface. Now is not the time for a return. The elder Winchester quickly suffocates the feeling and averts his attention back onto his friend.
Before him she stands, imploring y/e/c eyes, a sweet smile stretched across her face and hands clasped together. She looks like a little girl, so young, so desperate. The elder Winchester doesn’t want to say no. Even if he did—with puppy eyes like those—how can you?
“So you have to have a date to this wedding?”
Dean thinks for a moment, raking his eyes over Y/N’s face that speaks mountains of uncertainty.
“You think he’ll say no, huh?”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?” Confusion floods the young girls face as she unclasps her hands. They fall to her side. Dean gulps trying to level his voice to a more confident tone.
“I’ll be your date to your sister’s wedding.” He repeats, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. His hands go cold, throat tightening.
Y/N’s face speaks volumes of surprise. “You’d…do that?”
“You’ll really do this?” She asks eyes wide. “A whole two weeks in Boston? With my family?”
Dean shrugs. For some wild reason, his heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweating, and he tries to stave off all the anxiety that begins to bubble within his gut. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Dean,” Y/N’s voice is stern all of a sudden. You can tell that she’s just as taken aback by the proposal as he is, but is trying not to show it. “If you say yes to this, I don’t want you to half-ass it? This is a real big deal for me, you know?”
“Look, do you want a date to this wedding or not?”
Y/N then bites her lip, contemplating. The elder Winchester’s eyes never leave her as he watches, waiting for response, until she finally agrees.
“Okay.” She says. A small smile then twitches on her lips, and Dean can see she’s trying to suppress.
“ Okay. Awesome. I’m gonna call S/P/N and see if there’s anything more I need to know yeah?” She asks. He nods.
“Sure.” Dean says. “It’s fine with me.”
“Mhm.” He knows he is, because the smile that breaks through Y/N’s authoritative face then is something definitely worth the decision. Her cheeks indented with dimples, she smiles, shaking her head, and then walks out to make the call. On the way out, she makes sure she butts her shoulder into his, just for fun. Dean lets out a nervous chuckle.
She’s gone. The empty library is silent, and that’s when his heart starts to thud.
Over and over, like a vicious doldrums. The silence only accentuates the sound of his rapid heartbeat, as the elder Winchester allows in a deep breath. His eyes flutter shut, and the anxiety begins to melt away gradually.
fun ideas: victor nikiforov opening a skating school in hasetsu, but he doesn’t just teach kids who want to become professional, he also works with adults and elders who just want to skate for fun!! so new families and young people move to hasetsu and revitalize the city, but the older population that already lives there takes a bus up to ice castle twice a week, and 60 year old women pretend to lose their footing so victor nikiforov will guide them by the hips for a few laps around the rink.
yuuri and victor in the bath in the evening recounting their day; victor is rubbing yuuri’s feet, poor yuuri who is not a morning person, who gets up at four am to coach minami kenjirou and leo de la iglesia. “minami landed his quad salchow today,” he says, sinking into the tub a little deeper as victor slides his thumbs down toward his heel.
“wow!” victor says. “the juniors did well at their afternoon practice, and then i let mrs. yamanaka grab my ass for two minutes while she pretended her ankle was bothering her.”
“i was such a fool to marry a notorious playboy,” yuuri teases, and victor presses a kiss to his big toe.
Kameko, wife of Saizo the Fourth and mother to Kaze and Saizo the Fifth.
A traditional Hoshidan priestess with an air of quiet elegance and grace, she has an insatiable wanderlust within her. She settled down with her husband and two sons, but started traveling again after her husband’s passing. She cares deeply for her sons and is worried especially over Saizo, who she feels is too consumed with revenge over his father. With a calming and warm demeanor she is quite likable, but she still has a secret grief over her husband’s death.
Why Taylor Swift Is The Greatest Living Songwriter (Under 60) Taylor
I recently found myself at a BMI Awards dinner where the song publishing rights organization was handing out some career achievement awards, the first of which went to the classic ‘60s team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. And then they gave one to Taylor Swift, in one of those cases where they have to name the award to the person it’s being given to because it feels a little too uncomfortable to give the standard “lifetime” award to someone in her 20s. In her speech, Swift gave props to her elders: “I first wanted to say to Cynthia Weil, to Barry Mann, and to Carole King, you, the Brill Building, your legacy, are the reason we do what we do. Many of us in this room can’t dream of accomplishing what you guys have accomplished.”
Except she already has. And (heresy alert!) more. Swift is a rightful heir to the Brill Building tradition, with all the mastery of pop craftsmanship that entails, but she’s also the finest contemporary inheritor we have to the confessional singer/songwriter throne. She’s Barry Mann and Bruce Springsteen, together in one silver metallic mini dress-wearing package. That’s why I say Taylor Swift is our greatest living songwriter—under-60 division, just to be safe. But I digress.
I am glad I’m alive in the prime era of Taylor Swift the same way I felt glad to be alive in the half-century of Dylan and Springsteen and The Beatles and Costello. I’ve leaned forward into my first listens to 1989 and Red the same way I thirsted for the on-sale moments of The River and Nebraska and Imperial Bedroom and Time Out of Mind. These are the moments — all too infrequent in the 2010s, if you’re a recovering rock snob — that you live for as a music fan and especially singer/songwriter aficionado: the opening of a magazine you subscribe to, in which the editor-publisher has promised to bleed onto every page in some fashion. You look forward to admiring the craft and you want to know that you’ve been handed the next six months’ or year’s worth of earworms all at once. But most of all you want to feel you’re about to make that passionate connection with a deep-feeler who knows you better than your own best excuse for a best friend.
Where Swift is most like the great confessional rock writers, and least like the Brill Building set, is in her propensity to fill her songs with seemingly stray details. If you’re writing by the books, you learn early on not to include random asides that throw listeners out of the commonality of the lyric. But Springsteen, Dylan, Costello, et al. have faith that, whatever is lost in relatability by including something specifically autobiographical is a gain for fans who know that that weird minutiae confirms the rest of the emotions as authentic. When Swift interrupts Out of the Woods to mention “Twenty stitches in a hospital room/Remember when you hit the brakes too soon,” that’s about as un-Brill as Bruce talking about Crazy Janey and Greaser Lake. But the specificity of the bridge makes the universality of chorus more meaningful, even if the unstable relationship you’re being reminded of by the song didn’t involve a visit to the ER. It may seem peculiar to the 21st century that we can confirm who the significant others in Swift’s songs are by picking out lyrical details about eye colors or fire signs or scarves and checking them against her exes. But is finding out whether All Too Well was about Jake or Harry that terribly different than the thrill of figuring out whether Dylan’s It Ain’t Me, Babe was about Suzi or Joan, but with Google taking the place of waiting years for a biography?
The position that Swift is Actually Quite Awesome is not nearly as controversial among the older white guy set than it would have been a few years ago. You only get a B for courage now, not the former A, if you speak up at a cocktail party and say, “No, I don’t mean it’s good for what it is, or she’s a positive role model for my daughter or a gateway drug to Courtney Barnett, I mean she is truly the shit.” (Crickets may still ensue, mind you, if no longer outright shaming.) You can attribute this in part to Ryan Adams, whose album-length cover version of '1989’ did a fairly excellent job of indie-splaining Swift to people who only needed to hear that her songs could be rearranged in the styles of The Smiths and Elliott Smith to sign off on her. As much as I enjoy Adams’ '1989’, it falls just a little short as reinvention, or revelation: You kind of sense him wanting to get credit for being the first to discover that Swift’s frothiest sounding songs all have minor chords and melancholy under the Max Martin-ization. The real problem with Adams’ interpretations—which is not a fatal problem, given how good Wildest Dreams sounds as an R.E.M. song—is that he doesn’t really have that much use for the words, given how uninterested he is in emphasizing particular words or phrases and how he throws away some of the best lines. (To be fair, this is pretty much Adams’ approach toward his own lyrics, too.) Not that with Swift the lyrics are everything, when she has such a gift for melodic delights and surprises… but, yeah, the words are kind of everything.
Going back to Swift’s 2006 self-titled debut now, it sounds a little primitive, in retrospect. Which is fine: “primitivist” is exactly what you’d expect or hope for from a girl who released at 16 an album of songs she’d mostly written at 14 and 15. No one should sound 30 as a teenager, unless she’s Fiona Apple. (Hearing Apple’s eloquent teen jadedness when she was a freshman artist felt as impressive and spooky as Captain Howdy’s voice coming out of Regan MacNeil’s mouth.) At the time, it was a widely held assumption that co-writer Liz Rose was the brains of the operation. But you couldn’t help but notice that the best song on the album, Our Song, was a solo Swift composition, penned before she had access to the best song editors Music Row could offer. It sounded utterly conversational , establishing Swift’s knack for writing in complete sentences in a way that sounds completely diaristic and completely musical. It embraced both metaphor (“Our song is the slamming screen door”) and the meta (being one of those songs that is self-conscious about how it is, in fact, a song). It was winsome, guileless, and juvenile—in the best way—on top of being freakily expert for a song written by an underclassman for a school talent show.
Two years later (Swift’s follow-up albums have always been two years later, up until now), she came up with Fearless, which was so much more accomplished that it won her the Grammy for Album of Year, the first time that’d been accomplished by a record made by a teenager. But looking back at it now, you can see it was the only time she ever really marked time, stylistically, as a record-maker. The breakthrough that mattered was 2010’s Speak Now, which was her first real “pop album” (at least for those of us who pay attention to content and not the officially mandated tropes that insisted that honor belongs to '1989’). Just this once, she wrote the entire album by herself, in a rather deliberate F-you to everyone who figured she’d been propped up by Nashville pros. Similar auteurist turns by pop and country artists with points to prove have not always gone so spectacularly but Swift used the opportunity not just to defend but to diversify, as great writers and investors will. This DIY show of tour-de-force ran the gauntlet of effervescent girl-group pop (the title song), Evanescence goth-rock (Haunted), cheerful neo-bluegrass (Mean), girl-on-mean-girl pop-punk (Better Than Revenge), and even a token transitional single in the country-folk style of the first two albums (Mine).
'1989’ is the masterpiece of her career so far
'Speak Now’ also incidentally included the most searing, stark, boldly confessional song by a major artist since John Lennon’s Cold Turkey. (Hyperbole intended.) This was Dear John, a slow, epic-length missive to a love-'em-young-and-leave-'em type that was jaw-dropping in its vulnerability and rage. Never mind the lucky stroke that apparently had the rock star who used and discarded Swift being a guy really named John; Swift does like her literalism, so she probably wouldn’t written a public dear-John letter to a Tom, Dick, or (even) Harry. It’s a ballad that creates the illusion of the artist having vomited onto the page—for those of us who like that sort of thing—but actually belies a severe level of craft beneath the bile. The song rises to an emotional victory, as Swift goes from paying witness to “all the girls that you’ve run dry (that) have tired, lifeless eyes 'cause you’ve burned them out” to being the one who “took your matches before fire could catch me, so don’t look now: I’m shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town.” Compare this to the other great fireworks song of 2010, Katy Perry’s, and there is simply no pyromaniacal contest.
With 'Red’ another couple of years later, she bid a fond F-you to her own previous F-you and reintroduced co-writers to her stable, now adding Max Martin and Shellback as collaborators on a choice trio of songs, as if to say: I dare you to knock this block off. Aside from the handful of tracks with those guys, though, 'Red’ felt more like a classic singer/songwriter album than anything she’d done before or certainly since. It was all about lost love, and hardly for the first time, but now Swift was jettisoning her “better than revenge” approach to achieving payback in song and taking equal responsibility for relational failures, and it was all very sensitive and self-examining and enlightened. So when I got my first listen to the determinedly frothier '1989’ a couple of years still later, I lamented the loss of the previous album’s hard-fought breakthroughs in songwriting maturity.
Lamented it for about two minutes, that is. '1989’ is the masterpiece of her career, so far, and that’s not withstanding the thick gloss of candy coating that covered the whole endeavor now that Martin was fully on board as guiding executive producer as well as hands-on guy on about half the tracks. The meme favored by some critics, that Swift had sold out on us with all this interference by the reigning kings of the pop machinery—and after all we’d done to defend her as an artiste!—was misguided even by the usual standards of stick-up-one’s-ass bias and entitlement. It may seem counter-intuitive, for those of us who usually live and die by singer/songwriter yardsticks, to say that '1989’ is Swift’s most mature album, when there is barely a guitar anywhere in earshot for the singer’s tears to fall upon. But as it turns out, it is possible to talk intelligently, walk in rhythm, and chew bubblegum at the same time.
Yes, '1989’ is a less outrightly emotional album than any of its predecessors. Swift herself has said it’s the first time she wasn’t writing in the wake of a heartache. And that’s part of what makes the album so seasoned and smart. If all the previous albums were her “breakup album,” '1989’ is her maybe-we-are-ever-getting-back-together album. It’s about being just a little bit rueful about past relationships—in a less world-ending, drama queen-y fashion than the take-no-prisoners approach that admittedly made a lot of us fall for her in the first place – and largely about that impulse to reconnect, even as you sit by the phone and consider what a terrible idea that would be. She’s thinking back on a breakup that wasn’t that traumatic (possibly one with Harry Styles, if we’re to take the cheeky title of Style literally), and considering every negative and possible angle to rekindling an old flame. As a result, a lot of the songs on '1989’ are about mixed emotions, which are by and large the hardest kind to write.
She understands more brilliantly the power of dynamics — that even the most grandiose song can benefit by suddenly getting completely naked for 40 seconds.
And here is where we quote another great pop writer, F. Scott Fitzgerald, who famously said: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” Swift is showing us that first-rate intelligence when she encapsulates the divisions we all experience as we find the good and bad in people, lovers and otherwise: “You always knew how to push my buttons/You give me everything and nothing.” “Ten months sober, I must admit/Just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it.” “This love is good, this love is bad/This love is alive, back from the dead.” As the CEO of her own corporation, Swift has had a lot of time to think about risk/reward ratios. Grappling with that in matters of love is part of her giftedness and increasing talent as a writer.
I think again of the congratulations Ryan Adams got for bringing out the sadder emotional undercurrents in '1989’’s material. He deserves some of it, but it’s not as if Swift didn’t make that a fairly easy discovery. Bad Blood is the most blatantly confectionary song on '1989,’ with a sing-song-y quality of the chorus makes you think Avril Lavigne, if you’re making comparisons. But would Avril, or any other pop star you can bring to mind, have interrupted the beats and chants for a lengthy, virtually a cappella bridge that brings the mood down with its warnings about bullet holes and living with ghosts? It’s akin to the hyper-produced song on her previous album, I Knew You Were Trouble, where Swift puts an end to all the dubstep to very quietly wonder, almost sotto voce, whether the object of her affections ever loved her, the other girl, “or anyone.” In the big beat era, she understands more brilliantly the power of dynamics—that even the most grandiose song can benefit by suddenly getting completely naked for 40 seconds.
Blank Space, meanwhile, shows Swift to have under-heralded skills as maybe the greatest comedy writer since Eminem. As probably everyone who wasn’t completely divorced from pop culture in 2015 knows, Swift wrote it as a sort of spoof of her own image as a serial romancer (which is to say, a girl known for dating about half as many partners as a typical guy her age). When she says she’s got a blank space “and I’ll write your name,” it’s understood that she means she’ll write an excoriating song about the dude later on—she’s in on that joke. But amid the nearly Randy Newman-esque humor and exaggeration, there’s a real undercurrent of pain and possible self-knowledge. The time limits that come up in lines like “I can make the bad guys good for a weekend” and “Find out what you want/Be that girl for a month” don’t sound like they’re being played strictly for ironic laughs.
She is maybe the greatest comedy writer since Eminem.
Is she a spokeswoman for a generation? You might be on thin ice using that kind of phraseology for someone who spends so little time writing outside of the relational realm. But Swift does have an understanding of impermanence that seems uniquely millennial. She’s talked about how she looks at the length of her parents’ marriage and no longer takes it as a given she’ll find a lifetime partnership, which would probably come as a surprise to the younger Swift who wrote Love Story. But she finds a haunting beauty in what we might call planned obsolescence. “Wildest Dreams” pulls off the particularly tricky time-traveling feat of looking ahead to a future in which you’re looking back to the past… and of being intensely sexy and rueful at the same time. “You’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down,” she sings. “Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around.” That moment when you’re in the heat of passion, leaving your body just long enough to realize you’ll be nostalgic for it someday? If you’ve ever experienced it, you probably never thought somebody would nail it in a song.
Not that you have to be a millennial to be capable of considering how things are likely to end even in the midst of everything going right. I was trying to remember what song the future-nostalgia of “Wildest Dreams” reminded me of, in some weird, roundabout way, and then it came to me: Dylan’s You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go. It’s maybe heretical to compare the bard with this girl from the north country, but not so heretical to say: Great minds wistfully think alike. And we should all feel a little lonely if either of them ditched us.
He’s in the Circle Tower, held in place by a barrier as painful as it is impenetrable, and there’s blood, Maker, so much blood, and he sees the faces of his comrades, his friends, twisted in agony, their screams bouncing off the walls, distorted and desperate, and he’s begging, he’s pleading, for someone - anyone - to stop the madness, and then she turns up, the woman he’s seen before, the woman who drew his eye with her lush auburn hair and gentle brown eyes, except this time her face is a mix of fury and fear, and he’s certain, certain that it is another hallucination made to break him, and he screams to her, at her, but she looks at him in pity…
Kill them all, he says, rage in his voice. They are all blood mages, all of them.
Amell looks at him in horror and sorrow, and whatever he felt for her is twisted into something cold.
She is one of them. He is certain of it, when she convinces the Knight-Commander that the mages are innocent.
And then the scene shifts, and he’s in Kirkwall, and he looks upon the mages with constant suspicion; they’re all dangerous, he knows, he’s seen it. He sees Hawke, raven-haired with fiery blue eyes, and there’s a pull, a something when her eyes meet his… but she is a mage, one of them, and he’s convinced she’s done something to him.
Mages cannot be our friends. They must always be watched. He doesn’t listen to her try and explain the plight of the mages to him - they’re all dangerous, they must be locked away, they cannot hurt the people with their demons - but he does not listen. Will not listen. Cannot listen. He cannot doubt. Doubt is dangerous. At any time, any mage could become a monster. From the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters.
Mages cannot be treated like people. They are not like you and me.
He has many confrontations with Hawke.
It will be up to the mages themselves whether they push us to more stringent measures.
It sounds like you support this. Her face is disbelief and disgust in equal parts.
The Tranquil ritual was created as a mercy so that mages need not be killed out of hand for a threat they might pose. There is an argument to be made for applying it more widely.
Do you think it is easy to contain a mage who truly wants to deal with demons? We’ve done our best. But many mages have made it clear that they view the ritual as no better than death. They want no controls on them at all.
Is he trying to convince himself, or her? He doesn’t know. The accusations surrounding Ser Alrik… he cannot forget. Hawke is a mage, and she has helped his order numerous times. She has stood for the city, defended it, has been willing to give her life to protect it.
His doubts start to grow, no matter how hard he tries to contain them.
And then, it all comes to a terrible end. The Chantry, blown up by an apostate. The Right of Annulment invoked by his Knight-Commander. The First Enchanter, desperate to protect his charges, turning to blood magic.
Meredith going insane.
His Knight-Commander. The woman who had encouraged his suspicions, his distrust of mages. And yet, here she was, filled with hatred and loathing towards the one woman who had done more for the city than the city had done for her.
He stands with Hawke. And when it is all over, he lets her leave, unable to meet her eyes for the shame that he feels.
She is a mage, and she is a Champion. She is more than he is.
He wakes up, heart pounding, doubt and guilt and shame coiled and knotted and tangled together in his gut. He stares at the philter of blue liquid as it gently glows in the dark. It calls him, lures him, promises him dreamless sleep, of rest without nightmares.
He takes it.
The Circles hear of the events at Kirkwall, and rebel. He is unsure whether to blame them or not. For the first time, he understands why they felt the way they do, why they resent templar interference. And yet, he knows that something must be done to protect the people from the havoc that mages can cause.
This time, he has no answers. He does not know what to do. So he focuses his efforts on restoring order. He does the best he can, keeping Hawke in mind as a compass for his actions.
He still feels a great deal of guilt. Perhaps had he seen through Meredith earlier, the tragedy could have been avoided. Innocent lives could have been saved. Perhaps had he spoken up earlier - had he listened to Hawke - the Circles would not have rebelled, and the Templars with them.
And then, late one morning, Seeker Cassandra meets with him.
He has heard of her. Right Hand to the Divine, a woman fierce and righteous. He knows she is working under the Divine’s orders to bring an end to the war between the templars and mages that threatens all of Thedas.
She asks him to join the newborn Inquisition. He will be their Commander, she says, in charge of Inquisition forces.
It takes him less than five minutes to make his decision. He does not believe in his Order any more, and neither can he sit by and watch the world fall apart. Perhaps this is his chance to find something that he can believe in.
He shakes off the lyrium chains along with his Templar life.
But the Conclave falls apart, the massive explosion taking away their last chance at peace. In the midst of all the chaos, a new threat arises; the massive Breach in the sky that spews out demons. He fights tirelessly with his men, trying to protect the villagers of Haven as best he can; yet with the sheer number of rifts in the area he knows it is but a matter of time before they are all doomed.
A miracle occurs. A woman, a mage, with a glowing mark on her left hand. A woman who can seal the rifts. He cannot help but be impressed by her. She is dedicated, fierce, yet kind and caring. It is easy to talk to her; easier still, to forget that she is a mage. Trevelyan, her name is, Trevelyan with the strawberry blond hair and emerald green eyes; she is from the Circle of Ostwick, though she refuses to talk about her time there. He is afraid to ask; afraid to hear that there was someone like Ser Alrik there, preying on innocence and weakness.
She asks him about Kirkwall. There is a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a fear that she will not look at him the same once she hears about what he did. He tries to explain as best as he can, giving her as much of the truth he can bear to confess without hiding his culpability. She listens patiently, her eyes calm and free from judgement.
It amazes him.
She reminds him of Hawke, and Amell, courageous, willing to fight for those weaker than her. Though they converse frequently, she seems aloof with him, and though he understands, it saddens him. For the first time in a long time - he does not know how long - he looks at her as a person first, a mage second. And he wonders if she will ever be able to look at him and not see the Templar.
She allies with the mages, against his suggestions, and for the first time since they met, he is genuinely angry at her, angry that she did not heed his advice, angry that she would put the villagers at risk. He carries on about abominations, and supervision, and it is only when he sees her blank, emotionless face does he understand how his words might seem to her. He attempts to explain, but his efforts are impeded by the Seeker putting an end to their argument.
She does not come to talk to him in the days after.
The Breach is sealed with the mages’ collective efforts, and he is ashamed that he doubted her, Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste. He wants to approach her, to apologize, when the alarm sounds.
Haven is under attack.
She takes charge, a determined, strong warrior, and she is everywhere on the battlefield, fighting the corrupted templars, protecting the villagers, attacking the incoming forces with the trebuchets he had the forethought of assembling. The dragon appears, and… he knows there is no hope.
Steely-eyed, she listens to the young lad. The Elder One wants her dead, he says, but will kill the others anyway.
To hit the enemy, we’d have to bury Haven. She doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say.
We’re dying, he is more blunt this time, but we can decide how.
Another miracle. An escape route.
But they need a distraction.
What of your escape?
She turns away, silent, eyes narrowed and resolute. He understands; he is filled with respect and horror and desperate hope. Perhaps you will surprise it… find a way…
She nods grimly, and leaves with her companions. She turns around at the door, her gaze on him, and starts to say something. A loud crash from the outside catches her attention, and she’s out through the Chantry door, staff ready in hand.
He wonders what she had meant to say as he guides the villagers out of the burning village and towards safety.
Her companions return to join the last of the fleeing villagers.
She is not with them.
She is not with them.
He does not know what to feel. There’s too much to be done, too many people relying on him. Above the treeline, the signal is sent, and… a rock flies through the air, hitting the side of the mountain, and he realizes gratefully that she is alive, only to have his joy dashed seconds later as the massive avalanche rumbles rapidly down the mountain.
She is extinguished, and it hurts him in a way he does not understand, for he had not thought it possible.
It pains him more to know that she would never know how he felt about her.
She turns up, having made her way through the blizzard with a broken body. She is more dead than alive, but she is breathing, and that is more than enough for him.
She leads them to a new fortress, a new start.
She has just been appointed Inquisitor when she comes to see him. He tries to explain, to apologize for abandoning her; it weighs on him heavily, the guilt of sending her to her death mingled with the guilt of all he’s said to Amell and Hawke; it sits like lead in his stomach.
How many were lost? She asks softly, and it is at that moment he knows he is gone, irreversibly changed by her. Despite all that she has been through, all that she has suffered, she is more concerned about those she had done her best to protect.
How was he to resist a woman so caring, so compassionate?
I’m relieved that you - she stammers then, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink - that so many made it out.
He hopes she means what he thinks she means.
He makes a decision.
You stayed behind. He gently grabs hold of her arm as she turns to leave. You could’ve - and he remembers that she very nearly did. I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. His voice holds the weight of the promise he makes. You have my word.
She smiles, placing her hand on top of his. I know, she says, and all is right in his world again.
He will do everything he can to make sure she will never again have to be in a position where she is forced to sacrifice herself.
There is much work to be done; she is constantly out on the field, while he remains in Skyhold, coordinating and training their forces. Yet as busy as his days are, he never stops thinking - or worrying - about her, and to his delight, it appears as though she feels the same. She writes to him as frequently as she can, talking about what she’s seen and done, inserting an amusing anecdote or two now and then.
She in in Skyhold, a rare occasion, when she comes to see him. She is uncharacteristically jittery, and cannot meet his eyes, and he fears the worst. Did he say something in the war room meeting to offend her? Or perhaps something in one of his letters?
It’s a- a nice day, he stammers out as they walk outside on the battlements, then berates himself when she looks amused. There was something you wished to discuss? Her face turns serious, and she looks away; he prepares for the worst, even though he has no idea what it is.
Cullen… I… I care for you, and she breaks off, looking miserable.
He cannot bear to see her like this. What’s wrong?
She looks at him, nervous, apprehensive. You… you left the templars, but… do you trust mages? She adds shyly, Could you think of me as anything more?
His heart soars with hope. He did not think this was possible. How does she not see what she means to him? How can she not understand how much he cares about her? He did not think she would ever come to care for him, a templar…
And yet… I’m still here, she points out, a dazzling smile on her lips.
He gives in.
Her lips are better than anything he - or any demon in the Fade - could ever have dreamed up, soft, pliant, comforting… home. He forgets, completely, that she is a mage.
Now, she is the woman he wants. The woman he never expected to find. And yet, she is here, in his arms, and though they are at war… he is blissful.
But the lyrium haunts him still. The nightmares are worse, the demons darker. He cannot sleep, and when he does, he awakens with a mind so clouded he cannot focus.
It is when Ser Belinda points out that he is about to send a contingent into hostile territory does he begin to fear that he will fail. That he may not be able to keep his promise to her.
So he asks Cassandra to replace him. But she does not.
Instead, Trevelyan comes to check up on him. She is kind, compassionate, everything he does not deserve, and something in him snaps. He lays bare all that has happened to him, all that he has done, his eyes pleading with hers to make the decision for him - the decision his heart does not want to make, but his mind says he should.
She hears him out patiently, letting him vent. And then says something he does not expect.
This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?
His mind calms, and he can think clearly again. If I cannot endure this…
Her eyes are filled with so much love. You can, she says, her voice filled with faith and belief, and in that moment… he knows he can.
Because she believes in him.
She sends him to bed, then joins his side with a tray of food, coaxing him to eat even though it is the last thing he wants to do. Her fingers move to his forehead, and she hesitates, looking at him for permission. He wonders why, then realizes.
She is a mage.
And he has just told her his experiences with them.
She is afraid he will think she is going to hurt him.
He thinks of Amell, who saved him from Uldred.
He thinks of Hawke, who saved him from Meredith.
He looks at Trevelyan.
Another mage, in a long line of mages he has encountered who have been good, and kind, and gentle…
He knows the power she wields, has seen it in action. And yet…
It does not frighten him.
He does not fear she will succumb to demons.
He is absolutely certain she will never hurt him.
He takes her hands, and kisses the center of her palms before placing her fingers on his forehead with a smile.
okay sorry but i have to do this right now since i haven’t seen enough posts about this man.
this post was made during pride month and i’ve seen tons of posts about it. i’ve seen tons of posts talking about how people in the past have suffered for our rights.
but people rarely bring up names of some of these important people. so, i want to talk about one man named Harvey Milk.
Harvey Milk was the first openly gay politician to be elected to public office in California. other openly gay people had been elected into public office before, but they were elected in other parts of the country, not in California. he won a seat at the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and was elected on the 8th of January, 1978 after several years of campaigning, getting more followers each year.
Harvey Milk was a one of the front runners of the gay rights community in America during the 1970s. he was a peaceful man, using non-violent tactics to spread his message of understanding and love. without him, The Briggs Initiative would’ve been passed. The Briggs Initiative was a bill that would’ve made it illegal for gay people to work in public schools in California.
one of the big reasons as to why he got more followers and supporters was because of his way with words. he spoke like any other person in san francisco, but he used these words in a way that filled them with power. here is the last part of his most famous speech, the Hope Speech, as an example.
he was in office for 11 months. on the 27th of November, 1978, Harvey Milk and San Francisco mayor George Moscone were shot repeatedly by former supervisor Dan White. this did not come as a surprise to Harvey. he’d previously recorded his will on tape, quote, “to be read in the event of my assassination.” in it, he said the iconic words, “If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”
the same evening as the assassinations occurred, 25000 to 40000 people joined in a candlelight march from Castro Street, where Harvey Milk became famous, to City Hall. when Dan White was convicted of manslaughter and given the sentence of about 7 years in prison, people were outraged. the White Night Riots begun, a series of riots that happened on the 21st of May, 1979. it’s been called one of the most violent protest by gay americans since the Stonewall riots.
Harvey Milk wanted to shape a better world for everyone. not just homosexuals or heterosexuals, but for everyone, especially the minorities. people of color, the handicapped, the elder, etc. he wanted them to have as big of a voice as anyone else. and he wanted to achieve that through negotiation and non-violent protests. later, he has been called one of the most important figures in the gay liberation movement.
i’ve almost seen nothing about this man during pride month and it’s a real damn shame. because without him, we wouldn’t be able to walk out on the streets, showing ourselves and our pride. so this month, show society your pride with Harvey Milk in mind.
You rolled over in Dean’s bed, facing the Winchester. He was awake and you were not. The only thing he wanted to do was stay like this for the whole day, but he knew he couldn’t. There were people to save, and things to hunt.
Dean pressed his lips to yours, waking you up with a kiss. He loved doing that and he felt lucky that he got the opportunity every morning. He smiled when your eyes fluttered open. “Morning gorgeous,” Dean mumbled, his voice low.
“Oh please,” you spoke, rolling your eyes. Your voice was still hoarse from sleep. “You can’t think that this is gorgeous.” You pointed at your face, creating an imaginary circle in the air.
“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to [Y/N],” Dean reassured you, pulling you closer to him. There was no space between your body and his. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, moving your hair away from your face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, looking into his grassy green eyes. “You’re buttering me up.” You narrowed your eyes at the elder Winchester. “You want something. What is it?”
“Nothing,” Dean chuckled. “I’m just being honest.” Dean kissed your forehead before he got out of bed.
You felt a little guilty for assuming that he had an ulterior motive. You would find a way to make it up to him.
RH: My mother is a figure skating coach. I followed her to work when I was three years old, and I played around the rink. When I was five, I told her that I want to learn figure skating, and that’s how I started.
KT: There was a skating rink near my home, so at the beginning I went there just for fun. It was during my first grade in elementary school. Then I enjoyed it so much that gradually I started to take regular skating classes, and before I realized, I was already a member of the skating club.
SM: I started skating when I was four. I lived in the U.S. for two years and a half when my parents were studying there. There was a skating rink inside a shopping mall, when I went there, I tried to skate for the first time and I really enjoyed it, so I started to skate.
YH: It was my elder sister who started to skate first. At that time I wasn’t particularly into figure skating, but I was just following my sister and skating with her.
Q: When did you decide to dedicate yourself to this sport and be an athlete?
RH: I was inspired by Shizuka Arakawa’s victory at the 2006 Olympics, since then I started to dream about competing at the Olympics, and I started to train hard to be a skater.
After she won the Olympics, there was a parade in her hometown Sendai, and you were the kid who accompanied her in the parade car. Do you still remember that day?
Yes, I remember I was sitting next to her, and I saw the shining gold medal at a close distance. I thought that was so cool and I was inspired.
KT: After I joined the skating club, I think being an athlete just became something very natural to me, and I never thought about quitting because training was tough.
SM: I kept skating and naturally began real training after I came back to Japan. When I was in third grade in elementary school, I competed at my first international competition. Ever since then I realized I would become an athlete.
YH: For me, an athlete equals to an Olympian, an Olympic gold medalist. When I was around five-years-old, I already seriously thought about winning the gold medal at the Olympics. But what made me want the Olympic title strongly was the battle between Yagudin and Plushenko at 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics.
Q: Did you already have the confidence that you were going to be a top skater in the world?
Tanaka: I still don’t think I am competitive on the international stage, but one thing that inspired me was when Yuzuru won the World Junior Championships. He is the same age as me, and the best among us. When he won the junior title, I thought it was really awesome, and I wanted to catch up with him. So I made up my mind and set my goal to be a competitive skater in the world. One year after, I won the silver medal at junior Worlds.
SM: I didn’t think about being a top skater at that time, but I strongly wanted to go to the Olympics.
YH: Yes! I remember I got the second place at my first ever competition since I started to skate, but soon I won my next competition. I was presented a trophy in that competition, and I lifted the trophy over my head, just trying to imitate what Plushenko and Yagudin always did. It was a small trophy like this size (he pointed to his beverage bottle), and I did it like this (he held up the bottle over his head). It was a small, domestic competition, I think I was five years old, or maybe first grade in elementary school.
Q: Being an athlete is tough, but is there anything even tougher that you hadn’t expected or imagined?
RH: All your time is occupied by skating, I train every day, and it is so difficult to find some time just to hang out with your friends. Also, I need to get up early in the morning, that’s also tough.
YH: The risk of injury is high, and there is no guarantee that the harder you train the better you become, so I think that’s really the difficult part. Also, I think this is unique in Japan, but figure skating is so popular here that I cannot go out easily, and there are paparazzi around, so this is something difficult to deal with too.
(Does training in Canada make things easier?)
Yes, I can get more of my own time in Canada.
Q: What’s your favorite element in figure skating and what gives you headache?
RH: I like the jumps the most. Among all types of jumps, I like toe the most, but I am not good at loop.
KT: I like doing footwork, especially when it fits the music, it feels really enjoyable. As for what I am not good at, compared to those best skaters in the world, I have a lot of work to do on my spins.
SM: I like all elements. But I am not good at twizzles, and I wish I could spin faster on flying camel spins.
Q: Could you share with us the stories or inspirations of your programs this season?
RH: My free skate this season is choreographed by Akiko Suzuki. I want to enhance my presentation, and I think I can learn a lot from her. Before she retired, we were skating in the same rink, and I was always amazed and inspired by her. It feels great that I can continue to learn from her now in this way.
KT: It is a new genre of music (“Federico Fellini Medley”) that I’ve never tried before, so it was really difficult at the beginning of the season, I just couldn’t catch the feeling of the program, and couldn’t show the right facial expression. When I made a mistake on the first few jumping passes, it felt very hard to concentrate on presentation, and hence couldn’t put the program together. But at the NHK Trophy, I did well with the first few jumps, so I carried the momentum to the rest of the program, kept the energy and paid attention to facial expressions. I finally felt I was able to perform this program well.
SM: Tom Dickson recommended the “Star Wars” music to me in the middle of last season, and we started to do the choreography right after the season ended. The music is something different from what I’ve skated to before, but I think it is so cool and I like it.
You are always shy off the ice, is it difficult to skate to something so “cool”?
Yes, I really need to pay a lot of attention to the movements and scale when I skate, and give much more strength than before.
YH: The music of my free skate was composed by a Japanese composer, if I go deep into the story behind the music, it was actually the opening song of 1998 Nagano Paralympics. My mom watched the Nagano Olympics and Paralympics, and then she wanted my elder sister to skate, so she took her to skating class. If you think about it, those Olympics were the starting point of my skating life, so I want to use this piece of music. Also, as I mentioned, it was composed by a Japanese composer, so I think I can continue to present something I’ve learned from “SEIMEI”.
The Olympics really is something special for you, isn’t it?
Yes. On one hand, when it comes to competing at a competition, like in Sochi, I treated it as a normal competition; but on the other hand, I am planning and preparing for the next Olympics, so I guess I have a special feeling for it. Of course, I want to win the gold medal again in Pyeongchang.
Your long program is called “Hope and Legacy”, and you talked about how skaters’ performances can remain as a legacy. Which performance of yours do you think is your legacy?
YH: It was my first novice national championships, which I won. I was very happy at that time, not only happy for the win, but also for my score. It was still under the 6.0 system, I watched competitions on TV a lot, so I knew only those very top skaters in the world could get over 5.5 points, but I got 5.2 for my presentation. I was so happy at that time, and my performance at that competition became my motivation of skating, and it still motivates me now.
Q: What’s your equity in Team Japan? For example, are you the one that laughs the most, or talks the most, or are you the one who likes to give advice and take care of rookies, or are you the one that doesn’t talk at all, etc.
RH: There are younger skaters coming up this season, but this is only my third year on the senior circuit and there are more experienced skaters than me, like Asada or Murakami, so I am the one who still tries to learn from the elders during competitions.
KT: I am the shy one and not good at talking. On the contrary, Yuzuru is very outgoing and really talks a lot, sometimes I cannot follow him.
YH: We are all teammates, but at the same time competitors. For example, I am at the same age with Ryuju Hino and Keiji Tanaka who also competed at NHK Trophy, we know each other since we were kids, we are really good friends off the ice, but on the ice, we are competitors.
Q: Yuzuru, Keiji just said you always talk so much that he sometimes cannot follow.
YH: I admit. I really talk a lot, but I am thankful that he is always willing to listen. Just like I said, we knew each other from long ago, so I feel like he can understand me.
Q: How about in the skating club? For Rika and Satoko, there are many younger girls in your rink, do you give them advice?
RH: I talk to them a lot, but we seldom talk about skating.
SM: I often practice with them, and I get stimulation from them, I enjoy skating with them. I don’t always do that, but sometimes I do give them advice. I also have things to learn from them, so I think it is a very good training environment.
Q: What do you like to do off the ice?
RH: I like sleeping and eating. I especially like ice cream, so whenever there is a limited edition or new flavor of ice cream, I will go get it and enjoy.
KT: I like watching movies. Recently I watch a lot of Japanese movies.
SM: I like reading books and sleeping, and I like cooking. I like something sweet, and I like Japanese food. I cook for my family when I have time.
Q: Yuzuru, you are taking university courses via e-school, right?
YH: Yes, but I am too busy training to keep up with my studies. Nevertheless my classes are very interesting. I am majoring in Human Science, it is very broad, and I study a lot about human, about computer science, etc. Recently I am really into Human Bioethics. I’ve thought a lot about “life” in my life so far, and I am also thinking about “life” when I perform “Hope and Legacy”, so studying Human Bioethics helps my skating. Given that I don’t really have much time, I try to take less courses, but study in depth and make every minute out of it count.
Q: One thing I have to ask Keiji, your name “Keiji” (which means “police” in Japanese) is so special. Who gave you the name?
KT: It was my father. He gave me this name because it is very unique, you can’t really find another person with the same name, and he wants me to be a person with strong sense of justice. He didn’t expect me to be a policeman, but I think this is really a good name, and I am glad that people can remember me by this name.
Namjoon bounced on the bed next to Taehyung, causing him to moan more as the plug pressed harder against his prostate. “Damn Babyboy, that was sexy. But I want to play a game,” Joon whispered softly into Taehyung’s ear. “Get in position, all fours. Let’s see which one you do first. Cum or cry,” he chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest.
After my HS Graduation my Mom fucked me silly i had no choice when i looked into her eyes as she asked “Son can u cum in mommy’s pussy next time you slide it in?”
3 weeks later mom sent me a video of her taking a preggo test….. 🙄We are gonna be parents of an incest baby Nicholas!😆😊Son u did it, and soon you’ll be daddy nick the motherfucking incest KING!🇺🇸 Sister shared the vids i had in my secret SD card with Mom. My sister tags me and mom in a link saying" Dead Fathers are trying RIP but widows love Incest 🤗".!? My cousin Shawn thought he would go insane waiting to witness a Son impregnate his very own Biological Mama 👫!! Mom says “Nick you have made your mommy fall in love with you since dad’s passing and i want you to make me your wife and I’ll make you a daddy my son” 💏 As i am telling my mother that we are sociopaths for showing our Incest actions to the Facebook group for Family Members. I exploded balls deep and grunted loudly “Mommy how do you like watching ur Redneck Son inbreed you to get you a grandchild. Mom’s A full blooded Native American I’m half white so incest is my favourite. We live in in grandpas old camper in the Cherokee sanctuary because The Chief believes if are forever craving Incest you must notify the clan elders if you want them to prepare a wedding now or wait until son’s given you his first illegal load of cum oozing into mommy’s whom to inseminate her on his first try. Let me know what you think my Mom and my Aunt Kayla will talk about after i was caught moaning "I’m a sick Motherfucking SON” and sniffing my panties while cumming in his sister Renée’s sexy lace undies. * My sister was sent to the looney bin by her dad apparently our Sibling inbreeding Porn Film angered him but she was released by morning and she started to study About Genetic Attraction and its potential in North Carolina after 5 Phycology Specialists wanted you to show them some examples of “LOVING UR SON” 🤦🤗😇 😌
The leaders of the
cult or Elders were to believe to be very unique and special souls incarnated
in a human body. They claimed to be older than the universe itself, therefore
very wise. They claimed to have unusual and mighty supernatural powers as reading
in individual’s mind, emotions, past and future. They presented themselves as
teachers and mentors in occult and ordinary life, too.
The cult didn’t have
any name. It was an union of people that took Elders as their mentors, teachers
and believed they‘re chosen ones.
The cult was
partially engaged in an occult field, esoteric field, health care, mental care and
apocalyptic precognitions field.
The Elders also owned
a company that made profits from esoteric or occult lectures and teachings.
Everything was my fault. Was I sick? My fault, because I
didn’t manage to keep my energies in check. Something bad happened to me? My
fault, because I let outside energies influence me, I didn’t keep my „shield“ in
check. Did I fail in something? My fault, because I didn’t try enough, I didn’t
use my whole potential, my will wasn’t strong enough.
Negative feelings were a sign saying that I was weak. Being
angry, feeling disdain towards someone or something was said to be only my low
mindset, my unacceptance of the Truth.
Being above good and
I was taught that as Higher Beings we were, or were trying
to be, we have to think and feel as we are above Good and Evil. Many times, I
was a witness of Mr. B and others doing horrible things in the name of Higher
Power, Higher Will. And of course, I was doing the same. Everything that the
elders and we did was justified, no matter how harsh or harmful it was.
All of us were told we are special and we have some
supernatural powers, that they know how to unlock and teach us how to use those
powers. We were told our souls were superior to others. We used to refer to
„average“ people as monkeys - stupid monkeys not realizing and knowing the
I was drowning in the constant feeling of not being good
enough. Wise enough. Skilled enough.
We were made to believe that elders know everything. They
know about your past and your future. They know what you feel and think. They
know when you lie and when you really mean something. It felt as if they know
you more than you know yourself. Most of us would ask them for advice about our
lives, because we felt like they had the right answer. Like they really knew
what was the right thing to do.
There always was an
answer for everything
They had an answer to every question you might have had. These
questions were answered within the belief of the Truth.
This is the only
right way to live
They made you believe that this is the only right way to
live and without it, you’d end up having schizophrenia, cancer, depression,
anxiety and many more specific troubles, such as being alone, possessed by
demons, committing suicide or being killed.
Families and bonds
We were taught that there is no bond between family members
and family means nothing. We were told that we had to pick people and form a
„family“ with them. Of course, we had to pick these people from within the
The Elders always have some advice for you in their sleeves.
Advices about work life, family, health problems, financial situation, etc. It
covered every part of your life, they always had something to say about it. If
you didn’t listen to their advice and didn’t do as they said, you don’t appreciate
what they do for you, you don’t appreciate their time that they spend on you.
We were told that the next time, they wouldn’t help us if we needed help. They
basically forced you to do as they say.
Questioning the Truth
Questioning their teachings, the Truth did always result in
group ridicule of the individual, guilt tripping, mocking, emotionally
threating with what my happen if you betray „the only right way to live“.
I was taught not to have any dreams, any desires, any
wishes. I was taught to be just a tool for „the Higher Power, Higher Will.“
I was living in a constant fear of what might have happen if
I wouldn’t live as they say. I was afraid of their supernatural powers they supposedly
possessed. I was scared of the connection they had with the „outside“ world and
that they could easily ruin my life. I believed they could make me sick, they
could manipulate the reality so I’d for example lose my job, etc.
One of the many things we were forced to do was an
introspection. For example, we had to write down all our negative and positive
personal traits, at any time the Elder wanted. For some of us, it was really
difficult to write down the positive ones, because of the low self-esteem they
forced us to have. I remember that for a few times I didn’t write down any of
my good traits and I was mocked because I failed in another task.
The Ego corruption
They constantly forcefully tried to break our egos. They used
to often ask us „Who are you?“ but they mocked and ridiculed every thinkable
answer we gave them. We were taught not to have an ego, not to feel ourselves
as a person that has valid emotions and valid opinions.
Before I realized that I was brainwashed, I used to see
their influence everywhere around. They claimed to have worked with/for police,
politicians, corporations and even celebrities. They wanted us to see how
powerful they were and they used everything they could to support their claims.
The world outside is
We were taught that the world outside is full of evil
people, demons, etc. They made it seem like only with them we could be safe.
When someone said something negative about us, they used manipulation to make them
seem as manipulators, liars, under evil influence, mentally ill or just stupid
Expecting to attend
We were often invited to attend group occult or esoteric
activities which were supposed to help us grow and understand ourselves. When I
refused, I was told that I really needed it and if I wouldn’t participate, I
could end up mentally ill, physically ill or even dead. I was told that I was
already too far and there was no going back. I was also accused of being selfish,
spiritually dirty and doomed.
The Truth was presented as something we can’t understand
while we’re on our path of spiritual growing. At the same time we were told
that the Truth is within ourselves and we should be able to feel it and know
We were told that things like alcohol, cigarettes, marijuana,
birth control pills, antidepressants and any other psychiatric pills are bad
for our spiritual growing. We were taught that the glass of wine can lead us
away from our path by making changes in our thinking and energies.
We used to have Honesty times regularly. They used to sit
with us individually and in something that was called „discussion“ they pointed
out your every failure, your every weak moment, your every mistake you made or
currently making or will make on your journey. They analyzed every part of your
soul, your every thought and feeling. I was told that they do that for my own
good, for my better growth.
The system of falling
The more negative emotions we have to secretly keep inside
and tried to suppress, the more open we were to act as Elders did. I found
myself doing Honesty times with new comers, making them scared and feeling low,
failing in everything and guilty.
Reaching the Nirvana
We were made to believe that with the Truth we could be
completely at peace with the universe.
They made us believe, because we were all special
individuals, that we were nonstop in danger. They made us believe we couldn’t
trust anyone, there were people and forces that always tried to attack us, to
ruin our lives and corrupt us. We were always on guard.
What the cult
experience left me with
Empty visions of future
Feeling constant guilt
Feeling constant fear
Doubts about my choices
Loneliness and isolation feeling
Distrust in society
Fear of joining any other group of interest
Impossibility having dreams, desires and wishes
Difficulty rebuilding family relationships
Fear of their wrath
Fear of constant present of evil
Fear of going insane
Avoiding situations that might remind me of the
Inability to relax
Problem with having any kind of relationship
Changed personality traits
Inability to remember a part of the cult
Feeling detached from others
Inability to understand personal boundaries
Inability to make decisions
Fear of openness
Overtrusting people that remind the former cult
What happened to me
after I left and how I feel now?
There were threats. There was the constant fear for my life,
for my sanity. I had to burn bridges and cut connection with almost everyone I
knew, to be able to heal. I moved away, I didn’t tell anyone my current address,
phone number, email and I deleted my facebook account.
It took me about a
year to start thinking for myself again, to start having opinions again.
Slowly, I’m learning to have dreams and desires again. I learned how to relax
more and how to not be so scared and nervous all the time. I don’t feel guilty
or ashamed anymore. I’m learning how to trust people again and how to stop
overtrust those who remind me of Elders with their way of talking and thinking.
I’m learning how to stop compensate my low-esteem by being too open to men. I
started to have hobbies again and I started to believe in myself more. I still
can’t think about my future, I still feel detached from others… and more. I still have
some work to do.
Imagine laughing when Dean makes this face to you while listening to Sam lecture him over the phone....
You and Dean sat in the motel bed together, hands intertwined as you both watched Dr. Mcsexy in the formal attire you both wore to dinner that night. You had both told Sammy you were going to the bar and didn’t tell Sam when you would be back….
……..Oh did I mention that that was four days ago…..
You and the Elder Winchester wanted a vacation together, which was a rare thing to have as hunters. It was even harder to voice this desire for a vacation alone together since the relationship was a secret, cause once again, a relationship is not a normal thing to see in the life of a hunter. So you just told Sam you were going for a drink, prayed that Cas would leave you alone, muted Crowley’s number and turned off your phone trackers.
Sam called you both everyday, and finally you looked at Dean and sighed, “You should answer it, before he tries to send the law enforcement after us.”
“Ugh, So much for a peaceful vacation.” Dean pulled the small, vibrating piece of plastic out of his pants pocket.
“I am sure he will understand.” You whispered as Dean pressed a button and brought the small rectangle to his face.
“Sam, good to hear from…. Yeah, yeah we are both fine, we were actual just watching tv……” This was when Dean looked at you in annoyance and made the blah blah motion with his free hand, causing a loud giggle to erupt from your lips.
“Yeah Sam, she is here too…..actual we had just gotten back from dinner, and hopefully…. Sam…Sam will you stop yelling at me for three seconds so that I can tell you that me and [Y/N] are dating?”
he was silent for a while and then he answered, “Well Sam if you don’t mind I am going to go back to cuddling with my girlfriend. Bye Sam see ya next week.” Dean rolled his eyes as he hung up
“Well I am sure he took it well.” You answered as he sat down on the bed and placed his head on your stomach as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, your fingers meeting the softness of his hair as you fumbled in the field of hair
“Well seeing how it shut him up, I am sure he is processing it fine.” Dean chuckled as you smiled at him, “Good new is though we can now continue with our peaceful vacation.”
“Yeah.” You whispered, wondering how long this would last in the life.
I might be missing some because like…. have you ever tried digging through 5 years of social media?! And like some of the Arnolds make Google go “this guy played Arnold too! Close enough!” No it’s not, Google!!!
I’m also not sure if the Standby!Cunninghams at BOM!AU have gone on yet.
1st Row: Will Blum, Jordan Matthew Brown, Michael Buchanan, David O’Reilly
2nd Row: John Finley, Lee Slobotkin, A.J. Holmes, Nyk Bielak
3rd Row: Cale Krise, Jared Gertner, Coby Getzug, Brian Sears, Cody Jamison Strand
4th Row: Ben Platt, Chris O’Neill, Conner Peirson, Josh Gad.
Some of them could have a stronger likeness. Some faces are easier to draw than others.