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dfroza · 10 months ago

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

for january 17 of 2024 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17, accompanied by Psalm 28 for the 28th day of Astronomical Winter (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 17]

A prayer of David.

Listen, O Eternal One, to my cry for justice.

These words of mine are true—turn Your ear toward me.

Announce that I am free of all the charges against me—only You can see into my heart to know that to be true.

Treat me with fairness; look at me with justice.

You have searched me—my heart and soul—awakened me from dreaming and tested me.

You’ve found nothing against me.

I have resolved not to sin in what I say.

The path violent men have followed,

I will not travel. Violence is not my way.

Your ways and Your voice now guide my journey.

I will press on—moving steadfastly forward along Your path.

I will not look back. I will not stumble.

I am crying aloud to You, O True God, for I long to know Your answer.

Hear me, O God. Hear my plea. Hear my prayer for help.

Put Your marvelous love on display for all to see.

Liberator of those who long for shelter beside You,

set them safely away from their enemies, ever welcomed by grace.

Keep close watch over me as the apple of Your eye;

shelter me in the shadow of Your wings.

Protect me from the wicked who are poised to attack,

from the enemies swarming around me and closing in quickly.

Like clay baking in the sun, their hearts have hardened;

arrogance spills from their mouths.

They’ve tracked me down like quarry.

They’re surrounding me

and are poised to throw me down into the dirt.

Like a lion—crouching in the brush—they are ready to tear me apart.

Like young lions in their hiding places, they are poised to strike.

Rise up and confront them, O Eternal One! Make them pay.

By Your sword, set me free from my wicked enemies!

May Your rescue find me here.

By Your hand, save me from my enemies, Eternal One.

Save me from men whose hopes are rooted in this world.

But as for those You cherish,

may they feast on all You have set aside for them;

may their children never be in need;

may they have enough so their children will inherit their wealth.

But as for me, my hope is to see Your face.

When I am vindicated, I will look upon the holy face of God,

and when I awake, the longing of my soul will be satisfied in the glow of Your presence.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 28]

A song of David.

Eternal One, I am calling out to You;

You are the foundation of my life. Please, don’t turn Your ear from me.

If You respond to my pleas with silence,

I will lose all hope like those silenced by death’s grave.

Listen to my voice.

You will hear me begging for Your help

With my hands lifted up in prayer,

my body turned toward Your holy home.

I beg You; don’t punish me with the most heinous men.

They spend their days doing evil.

Even when they engage their neighbors in pleasantness,

they are scheming against them.

Pay them back for their deeds;

hold them accountable for their malice.

Give them what they deserve.

Because these are people who have no respect for You, O Eternal,

they ignore everything You have done.

So He will tear them down with His powerful hands;

never will they be built again.

The Eternal should be honored and revered;

He has heard my cries for help.

The Eternal is the source of my strength and the shield that guards me.

When I learn to rest and truly trust Him,

He sends His help. This is why my heart is singing!

I open my mouth to praise Him, and thankfulness rises as song.

The Eternal gives life and power to all His chosen ones;

to His anointed He is a sturdy fortress.

Rescue Your people, and bring prosperity to Your legacy;

may they know You as a shepherd, carrying them at all times.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

This Davidic psalm pleads with God to spare him and repay his enemies. It would be difficult to locate this psalm in any one event. During his life David faced many threats from different enemies; not only were these threats from outside his realm, but some of his most difficult challenges came from inside his own family.

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honkhonkrichard · 4 years ago

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Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil. If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT: "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!" "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

#anyways #Stan #stanley uris #Stan uris #mine #Murder Theory #honktheory #thats a tag now I gues ??#pw #analysis #meta

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bluewinnerangel · 4 years ago

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can you pls explain the tweets that happened on sept 28th 2013?? i just saw someone say it got debunked but i didn’t know that??

Oh god ehm. I'm sure this has been covered. I think I mention it in a post I linked earlier today, so maybe you saw it there? That in turn links here too. But I'll give it a go to debunk from scratch...ish.

Putting a cut in because I'm really good at annoying people with long posts <3, but here we go:

I am late to the party so anyone that was actually actively following the events at the time feel free to chip in.

These tweets happened on/around sept 28 2013:

Harry's tweet is a lyric from Joni Mitchell - My Old Man. The tweet is the line that describes how they do NOT need to be married, which I mean would be counter-intuitive to tweet after just getting married. The song is a really cute lovesong, and says they don't need to be married to be together/their love to be real, (which hits different if you're not legally allowed to get married):

My old man, he's a singer in the park He's a walker in the rain He's a dancer in the dark We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall Keeping us tied and true no, my old man Keeping away my blues

He's my sunshine in the morning He's my fireworks at the end of the day He's the warmest chord I ever heard Play that warm chord, play and stay, baby We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall Keeping us tied and true, my old man Keeping away my blues

Louis' and Ash' tweets? I mean? Yey I just got married so I lost my voice? Sad face? Again that would be a... strange joke to tweet.

El's also just... could be anything, if anybody knows the context of that one be my guest.

Anne's was live tweeting during the X-Factor and clarified that too

Ed's best friend got married on a Saturday before articles published this info on October 6th 2013, those articles saying it was yesterday, so October 5th. So I guess that makes it not a proper debunk, but I mean what makes more sense: 1) Harry and Louis getting married on September 28th, Ed tweeting about it, then having another best friend get married exactly a week after, not tweeting about that, but attending it publicly, singing at it, bladieblah. Or 2) his tweet was about this best friend Jake, the article is wrong and this wedding was actually the saturday before that on sept 28.

Last and most obvious one:

They were in Perth, Australia that day where same-sex marriage wasn't legal back then. (x, x)

But to me none of that even matters because Harry clearly really loved this theory a little bit too much, and entirely unhinged on its 2 year anniversary, screaming about anniversaries, dancing the single ladies dance on stage, aggressively serenading Louis, and whatever else we have missed. And it's not like oh oopsiefloopsie what a funny coincidoink because #2YearsOfLarryMarried was trending and articles about it were floating around. I don't think this is the first and probably not the last headcannon formed by the larrie-fandom that most likely wasn't true, but then they liked it and ran with it anyway. Especially Harry lol. And then ofcourse not to mention the many years worth of 28-insanity that followed and is still getting more and more ridiculous today, how Louis is now the one that has publicly claimed it, and how Harry has been subtly dropping 28ths everywhere for years as well, although ofcourse these 28's don't have to relate to the 28th of September.

But then there's Harry again putting this Hollywood area code on instagram (may 2015) which people quickly linked to the date (9/28). Yes it's a zipcode. But also yes nearly everything these lil shits do seems to have double if not triple meanings. It's just a boat. It's just his doncaster football number. It's just a hollywood sign. I'd say he's aware of the impact of that sign he posted because then we have him using it again on a shirt years later (on >>september 27, 2019<<) You can't see in the pic but the teenytiny text on the shirt is an adress, 6367 Selma Ave., Hollywood 90028:

There's probably more shenanigans at or around that date through the years but this got long enough I think.. Hope that helped!

#28 #september 28 #did I just add that whole 2nd half just so antis aren't going to want to reblog this #yes #yes i did #gayvinci code #debunked

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atruththatyoudeny · 4 years ago

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Monthly Reads | November 2020

Happy 28th! Here are all the fics I read this month and the one I’m (still) currently reading - a whooping 365k fic! And as always: all my love for all the amazingly talented authors this fandom has ♥

❖ Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die | louloubaby92 | a/b/o - past sexual abuse - angst - 111k ''You still want me?'' he asks, voice thick. ''Yes,'' Harry's answer is absolute, almost defiant. ''But my hands are empty,'' Louis shakes his head. ''I've got nothing to offer you.'' ''I don't care about that. Do you see my hands?'' Harry asks before he cups Louis' face. His touch is gentle. He's always gentle when it comes to Louis. ''When I'm not holding you, I feel empty, but like this,'' he presses closer until their faces are inches apart. He caresses the apple of Louis' cheeks and that's when Louis realizes that he's spilled tears and Harry's wiping them. He didn't even notice; too busy looking into Harry's kind, kind, kind alpha eyes. ''I feel like I'm holding the world and I don't feel empty anymore,'' Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him. Not Harry though; stubborn as he is, he doesn't back down, not when it comes to Louis.

❖ an island without waves | tofiveohfive | getting back together - angst - post friends with benefits - 5k Louis feels unreasonable. Less than a month ago, his consciousness was clean, not a hitch in his step. However, since the day the smallest seed of doubt planted itself in his mind, Louis keeps second-guessing himself and his choices. Every time he turns a corner, there’s some variation of Harry’s essence waiting to haunt him. A smell, a sound, a flavor, a color. Something Harry had mindlessly left behind. Something Louis is certain Harry would love if he could show him. Harry is in everything. He’s everywhere. An AU inspired by Niall Horan's songs: Everywhere | San Francisco | Still

❖ can't believe i captured your heart | millsx | break up - implied/referenced charcater death - domestic fluff - toxic relationship - 22k Harry wants Louis to teach him how to ride a horse for a date. Louis wants Harry to break up with said date. Or, the one where Harry is in a toxic relationship and Louis is there to get him out of it.

❖ Want It Flowing Through My Streams | screwstyles | Tennis AU - a/b/o - strangers to friends to lovers - 30k Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

❖ pull me back together again (the way you cut me in half) | 28sunflowers | post-break up strangers to lovers to exes to lovers - cheating - angst - 26k When trying to figure out who the love of his life is, Harry’s brain brings back a specific name from his past. That’s why, a decade after a messy divorce, Louis opens his door to find his ex-husband standing on the other side, asking for a second chance. Or a This Is Us AU starring Harry as Kevin and Louis as Sophie, but I selectively choose to use only some parts of what's cannon on the show.

❖ Pride and Peace | BrklynVan | canon compliant - hurt/comfort - fluff - angst - The X Factor era - 4k Louis stays off of social media and mostly out of the public eye as much as he can. So, when his publicist calls him at 7 AM to tell him that Harry Styles is releasing a Rolling Stone article in which his name appears many times he doesn't know what he is supposed to feel. “I got an email from Harry Styles’ team today about a piece in Rolling Stone. You are mentioned a few times and Mr. Styles wants your approval.” Louis can feel his heart drop and sudden panic makes his head feel heavy. He is quick to calm himself down and realize it could just be about their time in One Direction. “Ah, like music-related and shit?” He asks in hopes she will confirm it’s only about One Direction and he can go back to sleep. “Some parts, yes. I have sent it over to your email. Just to get an idea, It’s a..- its dropping for Pride Month.”

❖ sunflowers, sunshine, and you | soldouthaz | enemies to lovers - slight angst - 28k Sunshine county is small but mighty and Harry takes pride in knowing nearly each and every person that lives inside of it. For nearly eleven years now he’s been sheriff, and not one of them he’s ever regretted settling down here. He knows the road names like the back of his hand, knows the people and the animals and the way the world works here. In all of the time he’s been here, not a thing has changed. So, all things considered, when he starts seeing a beat up pickup truck roaming through town with plates he’s never seen before, Harry, to be frank, jumps on that like a fly on fresh dog shit.

❖ wake the morn and greet the dawn (with hearts entwined and free) | mixedfandomfics | selkies - mysthical - scottish folklore - implied/referenced homophobia - attempted kidnapping - ableist language - 21k It was a great storm that sent Harry ashore. Grandmothers professed they had not seen its like in a generation, and fathers lost their sons to the sea.

❖ Gimme Some Sugar | nonsensedarling | mutual pining - fluff - humor - no smut - 14k Louis is scheduled to work an overnight shift with Harry, the hot new pastry chef, to complete a special order. Into the late hours of the night, they bond over music and the ability to make each other laugh like no one else... which makes it harder and harder for Louis to hide his crush. Maybe it won't be so bad if he can't. * Or an AU inspired entirely by a manip of Harry with highlights.

❖ Meant To Be (Arse First) | Anonymous | soulmates - soulmate-identifying marks - fluff - meet-cute - bad jokes - humor - 5k Zayn groans in response, and Louis can hear the slow rustle of his bed sheets in the background. “Is it another ‘you woke up in the back parking lot of a Tesco’s with no pants and I need to come get you before the cops do�� panic or more of a 'I can stay in my bed and lend you an ear’ kind of panic, because I drank a lot more than you did last night, Lou.” “Uhh,” Louis replies eloquently, “more like an 'I have two giant, blood red handprints on my naked arse, and no, they aren't from a good shag’ kind of panic.” ------ Or the one where your soulmate mark appears on your body where they first touch you and stays there until they touch you for the first time. Aka the one where Louis's soulmate must like bums.

♦ Hiding Place | alivingfire | friends to lovers - soulmates - soul bond - canon compliant - mutual pining - slow burn - slow build - The X Factor era - 365k Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual. From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance. Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #monthly fic rec #monthly reads #completed fics #larry fics

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gendercraft · 3 years ago

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Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Seven: Miles]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

Miles’ shoulders nearly popped out of their sockets as he gripped the ledge.

He thanked God for his sudden interest in mountain climbing, awakened by his urban exploring as a teenager, as he swung his body to the slide, carefully scaling the ledge. If he fell, he’d break his leg, at best. His muscles screamed as he moved. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue until he made it to the next open window. He listened carefully.

Dead silence.

There was nowhere else to go. If the twins were still there, they would kill him. He grinded his teeth and forced through the strain in his muscles to swing himself over the ledge.

The twins were gone.

Breathing heavily, Miles allowed himself a moment of rest.

There was a broken window next to him that led into a security room. He glanced at the sheet of paper on the counter.

MURKOFF CORP. P.G. MAINTENANCE MEMO

Proper Purge Gate maintenance is crucial to PROJECT WALRIDER security. Please refer to Murkoff Corp. Maintenance Manual MMPSMM180286 or seek guidance from a supervisor with the proper security clearance.

Miles scoffed and tossed it aside. Hopping back into the hall, the blood led him to a locked door labelled SHOWERS. He’d have to find the keycard.

The decontamination chamber was broken, jerking a few inches closed then back open, the lights all off. Miles brought up his nightvision, coating his world in green, and stepped through into the equally dark hallway. The hall led to a walkway around another cellblock, blocked off by a railing and a grated screen.

“NO!” Someone below yelled. “ARGH!”

Miles shut off his night vision and pointed his camera to the lit cell block, where Chris Walker held a Variant up by their neck. He pulled, slowly, his muscles straining, until the skin around the man’s neck tore and blood spurt everywhere. Walker held the head up high as the body slumped to the ground.

With shaking hands, Miles pulled out his notebook.

I can’t shake Chris Walker, the big ugly fucker who likes ripping off people’s heads. I hear him muttering about security protocols, containment. What if he’s not the problem? What if he’s trying to fix it?

At the end of the hall, he found the keycard on a dead security guard. He snatched it without touching the body and hurried back to the showers, where the reader beeped and let him inside. He brought up his night vision again and crept through. He wasn’t in the showers quite yet, instead an L-shaped hallway where lockers at the base of the L. As he moved towards the stem, open windows let in the thundering rain on the right side, on his left another grated wall. He got about halfway down the stem when one of the twins stepped through the darkness into the night vision. His machete glinted in the moonlight.

Miles stopped. He took a few steps backwards.

Thunk. Thunk.

Footsteps. Behind him.

Whoosh! He leapt out of the way just as the machete jabbed where his torso had been. Cornered between the twins, his heart slammed against his chest, his breathing coming out in huffs.

Motherfucker. The only way was…

Somehow, he found himself jumping out of another window to escape these… monsters. He caught himself on the ledge and nearly slipped on the rainwater, gasping and dangling his legs.

Bracing his feet against the brick wall, he got a hold of himself.

“My god. He vanished.” Leftie’s dry purr sounded through the window.

“Vanished without a trace.”

“I detect sarcasm.”

“It was my intention.”

Miles strafed across the ledge, trying not to look down. Not that he could see in the darkness. The only sense he managed was the cold rain against his back.

“He thinks we’re assholes.”

Yeah.

Miles scaled the side of the building. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. His hand slipped against the rain, he hung by the fingers on his right hand.

“Or stupid.”

He groaned through his teeth as he slung his arm back over to grip the edge. Sweat and rain mixed. He made it to the next open window, and he just had to pray they wouldn’t see him swing inside.

“Let’s pull him in and slit his belly open.”

Miles gripped the ledge of the window. It took all his strength not to groan out as he dragged himself inside. He fell to the ground with a soft thump.

“Wait. Just a moment.”

Get up. Get up, Miles. Get up.

He couldn’t move his arms.

Come on Miles, get up. Before they see you.

“What is it?”

“I heard something.”

He couldn’t get up. He flipped onto his back and pushed himself with his feet. If they saw him, maybe he’d get a few seconds headstart while they laughed.

He made it to the end of the hall, which turned left, and flipped onto all fours, starting the run from below and slowly straightening up as he gained momentum. He used his wet keycard to get himself into the next hallway, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t feel safe stopping. Through another grated gate, he found a room with large tiled flooring and two large cells.

And a chair in the centre. A chair with arm and leg restraints, a hole in the centre of the seat, and straps to the back. The wood was polished with blood.

On the table, there was a piece of paper—a death certificate.

Please find attached a copy of the DEATH CERTIFICATE for RUDOLF G. WERNICKE, Murkoff Psychiatric Systems subcontractor no. 148616. No surviving family.

Length of residence in city or town where death occured: 0 years, 7 months

How long in U.S., if of foreign birth: 55 years

...

Birthplace: Germany

Date of Death: February 28th, 2009

I hereby certify:

that I attended deceased from June 4, 2003, to February 28, 2009

that I saw him alive on February 27, 2009, that death occurred on the date stated above at 4:11 AM.

So despite being unequivocally dead, he still had a large enough effect on this place to bring it down from the inside. Was it just his research, his experiments? Were they that ‘good’ that they couldn’t die with him?

Miles couldn’t help but believe the whistleblower would have more information. They had to meet. They had to put the story together, together.

How could he find them?

The patients. Someone would have to know. They could point Miles in the right direction.

The patients that weren’t trying to kill him, at least.

He left the room and continued carefully through the halls until he found another security room. About three quarters to the back of the room, there was a desk below an open air vent. Slamming the button to open the decontamination chamber, he was barely paying attention. Then the grunts came.

Chris Walker stepped into the chamber, green gas surrounding him like whispering snakes. He pounded on the glass, once, twice, CRACK! Miles gasped and whipped around. He sprinted to the closed door, only to yank at the handle uselessly. Blood roared in his ears. It locked behind him?!

He checked the other door, behind the desk, as the glass shattered. Locked as well. “FUCK!” He kicked it as hard as he could, not that that did anything besides maybe break one of his toes, and turned around.

Walker climbed through the empty frame, broken glass digging into his skin and sticking there, huffing and snorting like a bull. He stood like one too, arms ready to catch Miles if he tried racing past, sat in a horse stance. Miles couldn’t get to that window. He couldn’t open the doors.

He was trapped.

Walker charged him. His footsteps thunked, shook the ceiling, slow and deliberate. Miles leapt out of the way as Walker swung his arms out. Miles looped around the desk, ran for the window, only for Walker to grab him by the back of his shirt. Miles choked against the neck, flailing and thrashing uselessly.

Walker held him in the air by his throat. One hand gripped his hip. He was being pulled apart, skin stretching, straining, his vision turning black, his eyes watering. He flailed and kicked and thrashed and flailed until—SMACK! Walker dropped Miles and held his now-bleeding nose. It reawakened the pain in Miles’ toe, but he ignored it in favour of leaping onto the desk and into the air vent. It led him back into the hallway. Walker slammed on the door, and it was ready to come off its hinges.

He made a dash for the decontamination chamber. It was close, he could make it.

Swinging the grated door open, he charged through. Fire erupted from the chamber. Miles’ eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn’t stop moving, not with Walker right behind him. Maybe he could avoid the flames. Maybe he could—

“FUCK!”

Just as he reached it, it exploded, sending him flying through the nearby window and plummeting to the ground in the cell blocks. When he hit, it knocked all the wind out of him, nothing but strangled screams tearing from his throat.

Something had broken his fall. Something had saved his life.

With a choked sob, he looked down at the pile of mutilated body parts he’d landed on top of.

#outlast revisited #outlast #miles upshur #camerashipping

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henryobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

I Took You Home - The Apartment

Summary: Reba has stepped out of her comfort zone and taken a very inebriated Henry home to her apartment. Unfortunately or Fortunately he still thinks she’s Lucy.

Word Count: 1743

Warning: Hand Job, Stimulation, dub consent, drunk actions.

A/N thank you for the excited responses to this idea.

A/N what would you do in this situation?

Previous Chapter one

As Reba drove, she occasionally glanced over at the sleeping form that was taking up a large part of her little Civic. What was she doing? Reba was not a brash person in fact the majority of her life apart from one little blip 10yrs ago was well ordered and spent in complete independence of a partner. However, each time she looked over, saw his chest rise and fall, and the gentle murmuring coming from his lips....... "Shake out of it, Reba" she reprimanded herself, putting her focus back on the road.

Arriving at her apartment block she pulled into the underground parking. Her car now idling she looked at Henry again, what was she thinking she hasn't entertained a guy in 10yrs let alone a drunk one. But here they were, and she was not going to leave him to sleep this off in her car. Knowing her luck, he would vomit everywhere and be left with the stench for months reminding her of this idiotic decision. Bolstering her resolve, she got out of the car and headed around to the passenger side door. Please let him have sobered up just a little bit she thought as she opened the door.

Looking down at his handsome face she placed a hand on his shoulder and said " Henry, wake up were here" He mumbled something unintelligible and then tried to undo the seatbelt. After a few tries, it was obvious that his hand-eye coordination what not working. Reba chuckled softly at his childish attempts as he continued in frustration to push the button down. Leaning into the car she placed her hand over his, stilling the action. He leaned his head into her hair as he mumbled "Sorry Lucy" the action and the close proximity of his body to hers sent shivers down to her middle a strange sensation that both excited and terrified her.

Once he was released from the bounds of the seatbelt Reba took his arm and encouraged him out of the car. Standing he still swayed unsteadily on his feet, using her shoulder for support, she somehow kept him upright as they walked to the elevator. Her apartment was on the 28th floor and by the time they reached it Henry was looking green, she quickly opened her door as Henry stammered "I'm sorry Lucy I'm not feeling great" Thankfully she got him to the hallway half bath before he began heaving into the toilet. Feeling sorry for the tall man she gently rubbed circles along his lower back hoping it would help ease some of the misery he would be feeling. They stayed there for a minute before he seemed to have finished emptying what sounded to her like the entire content of his stomach.

Grabbing Henry a glass of water she held it to lips, looking him over glad everything had made it into the bowel she asked "do you think you can stand? "he looked at her and with the smallest of nods took her hand to stand. Reba once again acting as a stabilizing force helped him down the hallway into her small but comfortable living room. At first, she thought she would just help him to the couch but looking at it now in relation to his tall frame she knew he would be pretty sore in the morning if she did that. So instead she continued to the door off the living room that lead to her Bedroom. At this moment she bemoaned the choice that she had made to only rent a single bedroom apartment.

Walking the two of them to the empty side of her queen size bed she sat Henry down. Thinking that he could just sleep in his clothes she turned around to get a spare pillow from her cupboard. As she turned back, however, she found Henry fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He was mumbling again something about protecting his shirt, not wanting wrinkles. Reba at this stage started to chuckle again, how could anyone in this state of inebriation be thinking about wrinkles. The Cute look of concentration on his face and the small pout that was forming caused compassion to overtook her senses as she watched him repeatedly try to undo his buttons with no success. He shot her a pleading look, his blue eyes pulling at her heart.

Sighing she knelt in front of him and started to undo his shirt. His warm large hands reached out settling onto her waist. Reba was trying hard not to look up at him for fear of him kissing her again. So instead focused hard on each button, he leaned his head forward against hers "thanks Lucy" he whispered, she groaned at that statement, dam when he wakes up in the morning, he'll be in for a shock.

Sliding the shirt off his shoulders she stared in shock. His shirt had been hiding a secret as she stared at the perfectly sculptured muscles. This guy can't be real, can he? She almost reached out to touch the 8 pack before catching herself. Shaking her head, she stood stepping out of his hold and turned to go find a coat hanger so he would not have wrinkles in the morning. Thinking she could help him lay down now she turned and almost dropped the hanger as Henry stood his jeans in a bundle on the floor and the only thing covering his body, a pair of boxers. Blushing she turned around trying to find somewhere to hang the shirt.

She heard the rustling of sheets and when she looked back, he was facing her side of the bed thankfully covered by her thick duvet. She made sure that he was tucked in, unable to resist she ran her fingers through his hair causing a deep purr to vibrate from his chest at the attention. Startled by his response and embarrassed by her actions she bent picking up his jeans to distract herself. Anyway, If he was precious about his shirt she should at least hang up his jeans as well.

Settling them on a hanger she went to leave the room thinking she would sleep on the couch. But a deep pleading voice halted her. "Don't leave Lucy, please. I don't want to sleep alone. I thought you forgave me" Sighing Reba fought with herself. Surely, he's too drunk to be able to do anything, also how often would she have a hunk of a man semi-naked in her bed. What would the harm?

Reba gave up the internal fight, he seemed so lonely what would it hurt for just one night. Switching off the light in the living room she walked to her side of the bed. Nerves jangled about her body as she changed into her comfortable PJ's and slipped under the covers. Shifting slightly, she Whispered "good night Henry" hearing only a mumble she settled herself to sleep.

Reba's eyes flew open seconds after closing them as a hand sneaked over her waist and pulled her into a hard muscular body. Settling his face into her neck he whispered "There that's better. Night Lucy" Eyes wide not sure what to do she held her breath until Henry's breath evened out into a steady rhythm next to her ear. Repeating the now all too familiar mantra to herself what would it hurt, she relaxed her body allowing herself to enjoy the feel of warmth emanating from the sleeping man behind her. It took a little bit of time especially as the soft snores began but eventually, Reba fell asleep.

Moaning Reba awoke to a set of lips gentle but more insistently kissing her neck. The sensation tingling through her body and pooling in her middle. Trying to remember the night before she instinctively moved her hand over her body to feel the one behind her. Her hand landed on something hard and long causing a moan to vibrate from the kisser's mouth. She enjoyed the feelings generated by the kissing. Still, she was not willing to let this develop into anything more as he probably thought she was still Lucy. The taught muscle in her hand started to twitch as she subconsciously began squeezing its hot length. This was only the second time she had felt one and if his moans were anything to go by he was enjoying her touch. Realising she was unwilling to stop what was happening she relaxed and leaving her hand where it was hoped that by controlling that action nothing else would occur.

As she relaxed in her sleep hazed mind she felt her bedmate start thrusting up into her hand, increasing the moaning into her neck. The length in her hand pulsated as she increased the tension around it with the hand. His hand that had until now been securely wrapped around her waist moved its way down and with delicate fingers found her sensitive heat. This caused Reba to respond in kind with a moan her own tension building and burning with unfamiliar sensations. The kisses, thrusting, and dexterity of fingers found a rhythm that increased its intensity until Reba felt before she heard the expanding and warmth within her hand followed by a groan, as his body rigidly curled into hers as he rode out his orgasm. The sensations left burning terribly between her legs as his body relaxed troubled her and left her feeling uncomfortably wanting more.

The room was filled with the sounds of hearts pounding and lungs gasping for air and nothing more until a gruff deep voice whispered "Thank you Lucy" before soft snores began again. Shit, Reba lifted the sleeping arm of her body and moved to the bathroom. She looked at her face in the mirror. "What are you doing??" a tear made its way down one cheek as she realized no matter what, she was going to be humiliated this morning. The only thing she could think to do was cook a good hangover breakfast that might make up for the fact that she had to face the stranger in her bed.

Next Chapter Three

A/N what would you do in this situation? have you ever wondered how to control what was happening while being out of control? What will Henry do when he realizes this is not Lucy's apartment?

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake @justrae9903 @willkatfanfromasia @daddys-littlewhitegirl @cavilladdict @lebguardians @theblondetumbleweed @snowbellexx @radaofrivia @geralttheewitcher @acdd22 @thullyana @fanfictionaddiction99 @beckythfc1882 @heyheyharry @sauve-et-libre @shy-violet-soul @elliepower @msamericanrebel @minion-of-the-lord @xxxkatxo @oh-for-fic-sake @omgkatinka @pterodactylterrace @ruthoakenshield @inanna999 @libbymouse @witcherfan @enchantedbyhiddles

#drunk!henry #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fic

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edenofmonsters · 5 years ago

Text

xenophobia | one.

xen·o·pho·bi·a | [zen-oh-foh-bee-uh]

definition:

extreme or irrational fear of strangers or foreigners or of anything that is strange or foreign.

subject:

bogeyman | xavier

notes:

originally documented january 28th, 2018

4,000 words | 01 part | s. f. w.

family friends ask you to babysit their son, zach, but the night becomes increasingly disturbing from unnatural occurrences playing out by an imaginary friend he insists is real.

*✧🌙✧*

“Again, thank you so much for agreeing to this last minute,” Lucy breathes out, tugging on her coat in haste at her husband’s ushering. You watch her struggle to get her other arm through its rightful sleeve for a second before you snatch the other end which keeps escaping her grasp. The display earns a chuckle from Samuel who snaps around to tap in his shoes when his wife tosses a glare his way. You can’t help but smile a little. “You’re a lifesaver; I don’t know what we’d do without you."

You offer a modest shrug in response to her praise. “It’s no problem at all, you know I adore Zach.”

She beams, despite having heard your declaration a handful of times in the past. “Have I ever told you how great of a mother you’d make?”

“Lucy,” Samuel stresses, although amused at your knee-jerk reaction.

You can only manage an embarrassed laugh, waving her words away. Thankfully, Samuel reminds his wife they don’t have all the time in the world to get to their three day getaway.

Lucy finally gives in, mumbling about men having no patience, a remark you choose to ignore while Samuel gives an indignant "Hey!"

“Alright, as usual, you have both of our numbers for emergencies; the kitchen is free reign, so you're welcome to make whatever you find in the pantry and fridge; and since it’s a Friday night, Zach can stay up until 10 p.m.”

You salute playfully, bidding the couple a good night afterward. “Understood. Have fun on your vacation,” you call out to them. You wait until the taillights disappear far into the road before locking up the front door, glad to close off the mid-winter air.

As soon as you swivel around, you find Zach standing in the entrance hall, waiting for his parents to take their leave to make an appearance. Staring up at you, he bears a wide, knowing smile. From where he stands, you can see him jittering with excitement. In return, you raise an eyebrow and crook a smile in challenge, already anticipating what’s to happen. In record time, the eight year-old ball of energy shoots off into the depths of the house. You follow him, mocking the roar of an animal eager to rain tickles on his belly.

You allow the boy his fair share of running before you swoop down to seize him into your awaiting arms. The momentum sends the two of you flying straight into the living room couch, thankfully. No need for accidents this early on. Upon immediate landing, your hands begin their merciless attack on his sides and belly, prompting Zach to violently squirm and howl.

“What do you say?” you taunt, getting him just under his ribs and pulling an ear splitting screech from his little lungs.

“Please!” he begs, pushing at your hands which are much stronger than his.

You instantly stop your torture at his cry, unable to help the infectious mirth spilling from your own mouth. “Okay, I’ll stop, but only because you asked nicely.”

“Thank you,” he giggles.

“Alright, time for dinner.”

“But I’m not hungry yet.” He pulls the puppy eyes, folding his arms and jutting his bottom lip out in hopes of convincing you with his childish charms, which would be hard to argue against if you were anybody else. That kid can be a clever little thing when he wants to be. Fortunately, you’ve been caring for him since the cradle, so you’ve built up quite the resistance.

“Eat first, play later,” you reaffirm, leaving no room for argument.

While you handle the dangerous parts, you task him with stirring and plating the food. You place used dishes in the sink to wash later when you notice Zach filling a third plate. Curious, you opt to observe the boy build a mountain of pasta, emptying half of the extra in the skillet.

“Zach, there’s only two of us eating.” You come up beside him but don’t stop him from his mission.

“No,” he begins, finally setting the serving spoon away and admiring the piled plate, “my friend is eating with us, too.” He beams at you, but confusion knits your brows together at his statement.

“Did you invite someone from school?” If that was the case, Lucy would have told you.

Zach shakes his head, blonde strands swaying. “He lives with me.”

Ah, an imaginary friend, you conclude. Although, you think it’s odd for a boy his age to still have an invisible pal. “Oh, I see. What’s his name?” you humor, grabbing the plates to set on the table, reluctantly letting him take the third one.

“Xavier.”

With impressive reflexes, you catch the other end of the platter when the contents begin slipping forth, tilting it up properly and taking it from Zach to place it across the others. “What’s Xavier look like?” you ask.

“He’s black, super tall, has long arms and legs, eyes that light up in the dark, and he has sharp teeth.” He sounds so exuberant you almost dismiss the rather monstrous description.

You’re no expert, but this Xavier sounds nothing like the silly, made-up creature of a child, he sounds like a nightmare. But then again, every child’s imagination does differ, so you decide not to think too much of it.

“Hm, he sounds scary,” you say, pouring water for you both.

“Nope, Xavier is really nice. He protects me when I sleep.”

You smile, brushing away a tuft of hair from his eyebrows. “He does sound nice. Okay, let’s eat.”

“Can we play hide-and-seek after?”

“‘Course, but you gotta finish all your food first, buddy.”

Once finished, you take your dishes, ready to wash up. You reach for the third, untouched plate, but Zach protests.

“No, wait!” He snags onto your arm. “Please leave it out for Xavier. He’s really shy, so that’s why he didn’t come eat with us.”

You purse your lips for a moment, contemplating whether to continue playing along or not. You wouldn’t dare disappoint him so leave the plate as it is. “Help me clean up and I’ll leave it out for him. How’s that sound?”

Zach’s already in the kitchen, calling for you to hurry up. You laugh at his antics, relieving his worries by making way to him. Some time during the chore, a breeze rolls over your nape, inducing a shiver. You don’t remember cracking open a window. Zach’s chatter distracts that thought and it’s forgotten.

Suddenly, he turns sharply to his left, tossing his head nearly all the way back and looks into the air. Your face shifts in faint concern as you watch him nod intently at seemingly nothing. After a moment of silent conversing, he turns back to you. “Xavier says he wants to play with us, can he?” he asks.

You glance to where the boy was directing his attention to seconds ago. “Sure,” you say, albeit hesitantly.

He jumps in success, sending droplets of his still wet hands everywhere. “Yes!” You force a smile, trying to ignore what just happened. “Xavier says you should be the finder the first round,” he says, glancing back over to where his friend is supposedly standing.

“Whatever Xavier says,” you agree, wiping your hands dry. “I’m counting to ten, okay?” You shield your eyes and begin counting. You hear Zach giggle, calling for Xavier to follow after him. At the last moment, you peer through the gaps of your fingers and catch sight of the blonde boy’s hand out, like he’s clutching another and pulling them forth. You swear you see another set of fingers around the little ones, but you blink and he’s gone. Shrugging it away, you refocus.

“Ready or not, here I come,” you announce to the silent house once reaching ten.

You sweep through the rooms upstairs, peeking into closets, under beds, between furniture. When you come up with no signs of Zach, you decide to head back downstairs. Your feet touches the last step, and you hear shushing from the living room. Grinning, you quietly tiptoe toward the soft noise.

Your eyes lock onto the bay window curtains that sway the slightest. Cautiously, you approach to grab one of the folds and jerk it back with a “Gotcha!” What greets you is emptiness. You blink rapidly, expecting Zach to be there. There was no mistaking the curtain movements; it was so obvious and clear that you couldn’t chalk it up to paranoid imaginings even if you wanted to. Then another breeze, almost like a wisp of breathe, hits your hairline. Gasping, a hand slaps over the area of raised hair and you whip around to nothing.

Relax, it’s just the heat. Yet you’re suddenly on edge, the silence an overwhelming substance in the air. You’re tempted to call the game off but hear the patter of feet from the kitchen. That is definitely Zach. With a sigh, you trail after the noise, glancing back at the alcove. Still nothing. Maybe you were seeing things. You stow your worries away for now, tearing through the kitchen, only to come up Zach-less.

“When did you get so good at this?” you ask out loud, more to yourself than him. Naturally, there’s no response. There’s only the bathroom left, so you check in there. You poke your head into an empty shower. Did he go upstairs?

So you go back up and hear a resounding thump and shuffling from the guest’s bedroom while you pass by. You slide up against the door, turning the knob in a slow twist and prepared to catch Zach in the act of scrambling for a hiding place. Then you hear a crash followed by Zach’s yelp from downstairs and you pause. Knowing you didn’t mistake the sound from the guest’s bedroom, you barge in.

Again, nothing.

A splice of jarring fear clinches you, making it impossible to breathe. “What the hell?” You reel from the doorway, as if the room’s come alive and is about to devour you. Your eyes dart everywhere, seeking the source of sound. Nothing. Your insides constrict at the aspect of the undisturbed room.

Zach’s cry of your name draws you away from the ominous enclosed section. If it had been an intruder, he or she wouldn’t have had time to hide and the window would be open. It was only you and Zach in this house.

And Xavier, you faintly think to yourself, shutting the door with vain hope that it might close off the impending aura brewing within.

You retreat from the door and sprint to the boy without a backwards glance. One comfort session with an ice pack to a skinned knee later, you question Zach on his imaginary friend.

“Where was he hiding?” you ask, putting the first-aid kit away.

“In the guest’s room,” he replies.

A fist closes around your throat. “Yeah?” you croak out.

“Uh-huh. He likes hiding under the beds or closets. That’s where he sleeps in my room.”

Speaking of sleep. You glance at the clock, seeing it’s nearing 10 p.m. “It’s almost time for bed, buddy. Let’s go wash up first, okay?”

You direct Zach to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. Paranoid, you watch him ascend the stairs, fearing that something might jump out from the guest’s room and snatch him; however, when he passes by with no incident, you release the breath you’re holding. While waiting, you remember the third plate left out for Xavier. You tell the boy to wait for you and go clean up, almost not wanting to leave him out of your sight.

The plate is empty.

You don’t move, seemingly cemented to the tiles as you eye the ceramic with streaks of sauce. Hardly breathing, choking on dread, you check the trash bin. There’s no pasta and leftovers are packed away in the fridge. Zach wouldn’t voluntarily do that. Icy terror slams into you, weakening you so that you cave in and grasp the counter for support.

“Is this a joke?” you whisper to the air. You refuse to touch the plate, backing away from it like it were a ticking time bomb seconds away from triggering.

You don’t believe in the supernatural, but the events playing out are beginning to make you doubt that notion. A tide of nausea drowns you, blistering into a cauldron of interweaving black and white vertigo that leaves you shaking. You need to be with Zach, now. Fleeing from the scene, you burst into his bedroom. He’s tittering beneath a hand like he’s been exchanging secrets. At your arrival, he brightens up.

“Can you read me this story? Mom started it yesterday night, but didn’t finish,” he asks, already with a specific book in hand. Instead of complying, you sit across him and gaze over his innocent features.

Maybe you’re being ridiculous, maybe you’re overthinking. There’s no way Xavier’s real. You repeat that over and over again, like a mantra that might save you from who knows what. Ghosts? Marginally calming your jumbled nerves, you pick up the book and begin reading him to sleep even though you wish for nothing more than to haul Zach and run out the front door. As the story progresses, you also lose yourself within the words, urgently seeking out a distraction. Zach is already hovering between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness before you can finish, but you can’t help the question that falls from your lips.

“Did Xavier eat?” you ask, voice quivering with mounting fear.

The boy nods, yawning. “He said dinner was great. Can we make him some pancakes tomorrow? He likes it whenever mom makes them. I think that’s his favorite food.”

He prattles on and on, but your mind is stuck on his first words. “Aren’t you a little too old for imaginary friends?” you whisper, wanting to hear him agree more than anything.

His initial joy melts into puzzlement. “But Xavier isn’t imaginary.”

You slowly shake your head. “I can’t even see him.”

“He’s real, though. I don’t know why not everyone can see him. But it’s okay; I think Xavier still likes you a lot. He says you smell really nice, which is kind of weird. It makes him sound like a dog, right?”

You nearly fold into yourself, on the verge of panicking. Miraculously, you gather the strength to hold your place. You sink your teeth into the fleshy inside of your lip, fighting the urge to ruin his fun by reaffirming your disbelief of Xavier.

“Zach…” Defeated, you sigh heavily, feeling everything weighing you down.

He then points behind you. “But he’s right there; look.”

Your blood bursts through your veins, sending your heart wild in overdrive. With an agonizing pace, you turn, turn, turn and come face to face with twin white orbs against a black figure. You stop breathing, eyes growing to a painful size, and a scream rips from you. You recoil away from the monster that’s also backed away at your violent reaction, and you reach for a startled Zach with intentions of fleeing downstairs.

The second you take off, Xavier darts from its position and chases after you. You don’t make it far, only to the beginning of the stairs before it jumps in front of you, thwarting your plans for escape. It stands to full height, looming over you by, what looks to be, three whole feet. It looks exactly like described: tall, long limbs, black with glowing eyes, and a mouth that splits its face, showcasing a row of sharp maws. What Zach failed to mention was its colossal frame that ripples with intimidating muscles. Its body is grotesque and unlike anything you’ve seen before, as if it attempted to mimic a human but failed and resulted in something horrific. And, gods, does it look the manifestation of raw fury.

Xavier growls at you, rigid and in the position to lunge should you make a movement. You back into the banister, arms coiled around the boy.

“W-what are you?!” you demand, trembling and overflowing with crippling terror which burns your eyes with tears. Xavier only releases a guttural, alien sound that rumbles from its throat, inching closer to you with a wicked snarl contorting its entire face. “Stay away; don’t you dare come any closer!” you threaten in a pathetic attempt to ward it off.

Zach wriggles in your tight hold. “Wait, Xavier won’t do anything; he’s not bad, I promise!” he cries.

“Zach, that’s…I-I don’t know, that’s a monster, can’t you see?!” Never once do you take your eyes off the being.

Xavier takes another step with a menacing hiss, and you flinch. Just then, the boy slips from your clutches and sprints to the creature. It welcomes him into its arms, protectively cradling its companion and holding him away from you. “No!” you jerk forth but freeze when the monster bares its teeth at you with a blood curdling screech that makes you back down. You stumble away, tripping on your feet and arms out to defend yourself.

“Xavier, stop!” It immediately obeys, hovering over you. “She didn’t mean it, she just got scared. She’s really nice, you saw it, too. I love her, and if you hurt her, I won’t forgive you.” Xavier bristles at the claim in disbelief but doesn’t make a move. “Let go of me, please?” It hesitates, but does as its asked.

You quickly scoop Zach up, cautiously eyeing Xavier and waiting for it to try anything. It crouches on its haunches, naked muscles swelling and coiling and imprisons you with its arms on both sides of you. A thundering growl reverberates from its body, like some warning sound. You’re surprised it hasn't broken the banister yet.

Zach, seeing the obvious tension, speaks up. “Please be nice to each other, I like you both a lot. I don’t want you guys to get hurt.”

“Zach, but he’s, its…” You lock eyes with the creature, shriveling up from its predatory stare.

“Just because he looks different doesn’t mean he’s bad,” Zach chastises.

And just like that, shame scorches you. Even a child knows better than you. Sighing, you shift the boy so he’s equally between you two but still keep a hand on him. Reluctantly, you say, “You’re absolutely right. I can’t judge anyone just because they don’t look like me; I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “You have to say sorry to Xavier.”

Swallowing through the grip on your throat, you face the creature who’s looking at you expectantly. “I…I’m sorry, Xavier,” you murmur after a stifling minute, earning a smile from Zach.

“Xavier, you say sorry, too, for scaring her.”

You don’t expect it to be able to speak, despite its mouth, but you certainly aren’t prepared for when it leans forward despite being so near already. Your faces are unbearably close that you feel its breath. You don’t move a muscle, anticipating whatever Xavier has in store for you. You watch it part its teeth and unfurls an elongated tongue in horror. Tense, you hold your breath as Xavier angles its head and lodges its face into the juncture of your throat. You jerk back, hitting the rods preventing you from moving. The monster wraps its enormous hand across your chest—huge enough to span beyond your width—to keep you in place, but you have an inkling suspicion that’s a display of power and dominance than anything else.

A strangled protest of a sound warbles from your lips, afraid he might bite out a chunk of your neck. Instead, it nuzzles into your pulse. A sort of purr releases from the being while it strokes its nose and cheek further into your jaw, like an attempt at imprinting. It’s not as bad as you dread until its tongue comes into play. The hot flesh laps the column of your throat without any qualms. You shriek, pushing it away with all your strength, which is nothing against Xavier. Somewhere among the heat of its tongue, purring, and tight grip, Zach giggles.

Xavier is still slathering the entirety of your neck with the flat of its thick muscle that can wrap around your throat whole, while you’re fighting the urge to recoil in disgust at the thick saliva painting your skin. You’re surprised it isn’t toxic and burning through. Involuntarily, you tilt your head away to avoid its tongue, only to give it all the access it could want to the side of your neck. Gleefully, Xavier playfully gnaws on the skin. Nothing enough to break it, but enough to prick and make you scream in alarm, fueling your fear of being eaten.

“Okay, apology accepted!” you shriek out, fighting to escape. Thankfully, it lets up with a final nip. Positive you’re thoroughly traumatized and about to faint, you remind Zach of his bedtime.

“Aw, but I’m not tired anymore,” he pouts. He turns to Xavier for help, who only shakes its head.

“Come on, Zach.” You stand, mentally exhausted, and lead the boy back into his room. Xavier is on your heels. Again, you feel its breath, eliciting a terrified shiver.

You tuck Zach in, read him another story, and collapse into the guest’s room, leaving both doors open. Xavier slipped under his bed earlier, presumably sleeping. Initially you wanted to stay with Zach, but it seems the monster has been here for some time, and if it had intentions of hurting the boy it would have done so already. And you can’t rid of the image of it protecting him from you of all people.

You curl into yourself, letting the flow of emotions get the better of you. You cry. From relief or fear, you aren’t sure. A settling weight at the end of your bed slices through the moment and you bolt up with the comforter clutched to your neck scrubbed tender and raw. In the mesh of the darkness, you can see Xavier’s outline as it sits on its haunches once more. Neither of you do anything, heightening the pressure that makes you restless.

Finally, you’re brave enough to question him. “What do you want?”

Its head tilts, glowing eyes ever unblinking. Deliberately, Xavier crawls toward you. Even with its slowness, you let out a keening pitch and throw yourself against the cushioned headboard, predicting the worst now that Zach’s away. You can’t formulate any words that may halt him. Instead of heeding your rejection, it advances right into your face, inches away. The proximity drives you to tussle out of the bed, but it's frighteningly quick. Xavier’s hand shoots out to capture you before you have the chance to break away. It drags you onto your back, pinning you there, and towers over you. Your breath comes out in short pants as your hands fly out to any part of it to hold it back.

“Please,” you gasp, an onslaught of tears blinding you, “please, don’t hurt me.”

Xavier shakes its head in negative. You still whimper, though, thousands of scenarios sprouting within your mind. Once again, it slowly descends its face toward you, only stopping when your noses are an inch apart, spurring a soft cry from your trembling lips. For the longest time, the monster does nothing but appraises you with such a staggering intensity you’re glad that you’re not standing.

You’re on the verge of lashing out, but a single finger strokes from your temple to your chin. Its touch is so startling ginger you find it hard to believe it’s from the same creature that was moments away from harming you earlier.

It rasps out a gravelly, “No crying.”

You’re so shell-shocked that all you can do is nod.

“Good. Night night,” it whispers, feathering its finger over your tear streaks.

Your eyes flutter once. “Good—good night,” you whisper back. The second it slithers into the darkness and out of your temporary room, you curl back into the fetal position, wondering what happened. That night you fall into a fitful sleep.

*✧🌙✧*

to be continued.

*✧🌙✧*

thoughts:

the entirety is 20,000 words, and thus i don’t want to split this into five parts, nor do i want to post a single chapter with this much content. i haven’t tried it before, but i fear i may break tumblr if i attempt it. instead, i will provide a link to my ao3, where you may read it in all its nsfw glory. a tremendous apology to those who have been waiting for its return. this if for you, my little monster lovers: archive of our own

resources:

monster masterlist by thespelia

encyclopedia of monsters by thespelia

#terato #exophilia #monsters #monster love #monster romance #monster boyfriend #horror #romance #bogeyman #boogeyman #oc: xavier #writing

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lawrenceop · 5 years ago

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Holy Land Retrospective - Day 1

A JOURNEY OF FAITH: INTRODUCTION

One year ago, on the feast of Divine Mercy, I made my way to Heathrow airport after Mass, for my first pilgrimage to the Holy Land. This journey, organised by 206 Tours, was an answer to my prayers. Until recently I did not feel ready nor worthy to walk in that place where “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14). But shortly after I returned from studies in Washington DC, I felt this yearning to see the Holy Land, and so I prayed for the opportunity to go, and I left it in God’s hands. Two weeks later, an email arrived inviting me to serve as one of a team of spiritual directors on a unique pilgrimage to the Holy Land in the company of Jim Caviezel, and led by the wonderful Fr Donald Calloway MIC. Truly, God is provident, and his generosity exceeds our asking!

Divine Mercy Sunday 2020 was the 28th of April, and I flew out on a night flight after a rather gruelling round of questions at the airport. At one point, I did not think I would be allowed to board but I kept clutching my Rosary and saying prayers silently. I entrusted all to Jesus who, it seemed to me, had arranged this pilgrimage for me at this opportune time, just after the Easter Octave.

On this nine-day pilgrimage, I took 1453 photos on my phone, and I shared the best of these on Facebook as we went. I often find that this is the best way to share my experiences with my family and friends. I also had my DSLR camera with me, and I took 1416 photos with my camera. I have been sharing these photos on my Flickr page, posting on liturgically appropriate days. For example, on the feast of the Annunciation (25 March) I shared this photo of the site of Mary’s house in Nazareth where the Word became incarnate in Our Lady’s womb.

Now as the liturgical anniversary of this wonderful pilgrimage comes round, I wanted to relive those days; to give thanks to God and Our Lady for this trip; to remember the places we saw, and the people I met; and to reflect theologically and spiritually on this pilgrimage with the aide-memoire of the photos I took. It shall be a novena of sorts.

For, in what follows, for the next nine days, I will post no more than nine photos a day (sometimes fewer), and I will choose photos taken on my camera only, and which I have not already uploaded to Flickr. Clicking on the link for each photo (links are all in red text) will take you to the Flickr page where you can see the photo in larger sizes. This exercise is meant to help challenge me to look at the entire photo collection again with fresh eyes. I hope it will help you, too, to see the places associated with Christ and the mysteries of our salvation. Thank you for joining me on this journey of faith.

ARRIVAL IN THE HOLY LAND

I arrived at daybreak in Israel, on the Monday of ‘Low Week’. The drive to Jerusalem took about an hour, and my eyes soaked in the landscape before me, the topography that Jesus had also looked upon; the dusky green foliage; a field heavy with wheat and ripe for the harvesting (cf Lk 10:2). And we went across hills and through rocky ravines, going from the seaside city of Tel Aviv to the ancient hill-top citadel of Jerusalem. As we approached the words of Psalm 48 resounded in my mind: “His holy mountain rises in beauty, the joy of all the earth.Mount Zion, true pole of the earth, the Great King’s city! God, in the midst of its citadels, has shown himself its stronghold.”

Green wooded hills gave way to white stone as various dwellings and buildings were perched on the hills, and soon, I saw banners with the lion of Judah on them: we had arrived in the Holy City of Jerusalem. But, above all, that first morning in the Holy Land, I noticed the light, as photographers are wont to do: as the sun rose, the skies turned pale blue, and the light grey clouds were tinged with gold and orange; it seemed to me a divine light, full of promise.

We didn’t have anything planned until the evening, so I had the whole day to explore. Tired from the flight, but too excited to sleep, I went and had breakfast in the hotel – the food, throughout this pilgrimage, was delicious and healthily Mediterranean, with many salads, fresh produce, and honey from the comb. And then, I went to explore this most ancient and unique of cities: Jerusalem, the abode of peace! My first stop was the Holy Sepulchre, and I went without any cameras. It’s important, where possible, to just be present in a place, to look and observe, and take in the experience through every sense. Only on subsequent visits would I use my camera to transmit what I had first contemplated.

PHOTO 1: This was taken from the rooftop of the Christian Information Centre, just within the Jaffa Gate, which was about 10 minutes walk from our hotel. From here, one has a panoramic view from the edge of the Christian Quarter. We are looking at the complex that constitutes the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and beneath the large dome is the Aedicule, which is the structure that enclosed both the Empty Tomb of Christ as well as the spot where the angel had sat upon the stone which had been rolled away from the opening of the tomb.

Now after the sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the sepulchre. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. (Mt 28:1-2)

Looking at the Holy Sepulchre from this angle, I notice that the church is flanked by two minarets, and to the right of this shot, the Temple Mount with the Dome of the Rock is prominently visible. As always, the three Faiths which regard Jerusalem to be a sacred site, are always present and very evident; the three photos I have chosen for this day demonstrate this. And yet, here, in this photo, beneath this dome that crowns the Holy Sepulchre, is the centre of the world. For here, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God and universal Saviour, all creation was redeemed and is for ever transformed.

He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be pre-eminent. For in him all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Col 1:18-20).

PHOTO 2: I met some of my fellow pilgrims from this large group (we were about 240 in total!) in the Holy Sepulchre, and they wanted to visit the Western Wall next so I went with them. Here, the monumental stones impress upon us the grandeur and antiquity of Jerusalem. In fact, everywhere, we walked upon ancient slabs of stone, and I was always aware of the history of the city, and I wondered how many millions had walked those same paths as I was now on; who else had seen these buildings and pilgrimaged to these place? In places like Jerusalem it seems like all of humanity has passed through it, and I am humbled – aware of my paucity in the face of the enormous procession of people who have been here over the millennia. The stones of the Western Wall were already here when Jesus came to the Temple; when he came here as a boy and was found teaching in the Temple they were just a few decades old. Looking upon these walls, and indeed, upon the walls and gates of Jerusalem, such as the Jaffa Gate which I entered every day, I would think of these lines from Psalm 122: “I rejoiced when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the LORD.” And now our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem... For the peace of Jerusalem pray, “May they prosper, those who love you.” May peace abide in your walls...”

PHOTO 3: The various ‘Quarters’ of Jerusalem run into each other, and although we approached the Western Wall through the Jewish Quarter, we returned to the Jaffa Gate through the Muslim Quarter and via the Holy Sepulchre at the heart of the Christian Quarter once more. Here is a typical street scene taken in the Muslim Quarter, although it was less crowded than usual. Shops line the street, with shopkeepers calling out like sirens to entice you in. But what caught my eye was the texture and size of the stones beneath our feet, and the way the bright sunlight was filtered through the awnings above, and the patterns of shade and dappled light on the ground.

The Lord is your guard and your shade; at your right side he stands. By day the sun shall not smite you nor the moon in the night. (Ps 121:5-6)

"For love of my brethren and friends I say: "Peace upon you." For love of the house of the Lord I will ask for your good." Amen. (Psalm 122:8-9) Tomorrow: DAY 2 - Gethsemane and Ein Kerem.

#Holy Land #retrospective #reflection #travelogue #faith #photos

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dfroza · 2 years ago

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

for january 17 of 2023 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17 (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year) accompanied by Psalm 28 for the 28th day of Astronomical Winter

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 17]

A prayer of David.

Listen, O Eternal One, to my cry for justice.

These words of mine are true—turn Your ear toward me.

Announce that I am free of all the charges against me—only You can see into my heart to know that to be true.

Treat me with fairness; look at me with justice.

You have searched me—my heart and soul—awakened me from dreaming and tested me.

You’ve found nothing against me.

I have resolved not to sin in what I say.

The path violent men have followed,

I will not travel. Violence is not my way.

Your ways and Your voice now guide my journey.

I will press on—moving steadfastly forward along Your path.

I will not look back. I will not stumble.

I am crying aloud to You, O True God, for I long to know Your answer.

Hear me, O God. Hear my plea. Hear my prayer for help.

Put Your marvelous love on display for all to see.

Liberator of those who long for shelter beside You,

set them safely away from their enemies, ever welcomed by grace.

Keep close watch over me as the apple of Your eye;

shelter me in the shadow of Your wings.

Protect me from the wicked who are poised to attack,

from the enemies swarming around me and closing in quickly.

Like clay baking in the sun, their hearts have hardened;

arrogance spills from their mouths.

They’ve tracked me down like quarry.

They’re surrounding me

and are poised to throw me down into the dirt.

Like a lion—crouching in the brush—they are ready to tear me apart.

Like young lions in their hiding places, they are poised to strike.

Rise up and confront them, O Eternal One! Make them pay.

By Your sword, set me free from my wicked enemies!

May Your rescue find me here.

By Your hand, save me from my enemies, Eternal One.

Save me from men whose hopes are rooted in this world.

But as for those You cherish,

may they feast on all You have set aside for them;

may their children never be in need;

may they have enough so their children will inherit their wealth.

But as for me, my hope is to see Your face.

When I am vindicated, I will look upon the holy face of God,

and when I awake, the longing of my soul will be satisfied in the glow of Your presence.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 28]

A song of David.

Eternal One, I am calling out to You;

You are the foundation of my life. Please, don’t turn Your ear from me.

If You respond to my pleas with silence,

I will lose all hope like those silenced by death’s grave.

Listen to my voice.

You will hear me begging for Your help

With my hands lifted up in prayer,

my body turned toward Your holy home.

I beg You; don’t punish me with the most heinous men.

They spend their days doing evil.

Even when they engage their neighbors in pleasantness,

they are scheming against them.

Pay them back for their deeds;

hold them accountable for their malice.

Give them what they deserve.

Because these are people who have no respect for You, O Eternal,

they ignore everything You have done.

So He will tear them down with His powerful hands;

never will they be built again.

The Eternal should be honored and revered;

He has heard my cries for help.

The Eternal is the source of my strength and the shield that guards me.

When I learn to rest and truly trust Him,

He sends His help. This is why my heart is singing!

I open my mouth to praise Him, and thankfulness rises as song.

The Eternal gives life and power to all His chosen ones;

to His anointed He is a sturdy fortress.

Rescue Your people, and bring prosperity to Your legacy;

may they know You as a shepherd, carrying them at all times.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

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fernwehbookworm · 5 years ago

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Woke The F*ck Up- Chapter 24

April 28th, 2018

Lena tries Kara’s cell one last time, scanning the room as panic grows. After five minutes, she had grown irritated, after ten, worry had begun to gnaw at her, now it had been fifteen and Lena had called Kara four times while asking patrons and bartenders alike if they had seen her. No one had. The bartender waved her in the direction of the manager's office. It was locked and dark. The schedule posted outside the door said he was off today. Finally, Lena gives in and calls Alex, cringing as it rings to voicemail. She calls again immediately.

“What Luthor?” Alex asks irritably, clearly being interrupted and sounding a bit breathless.

“K-Kara..” Lena’s eyes dart around the bar again,

“What about Kara?” Alex bites through a gasp.

“She… she…”

“Lena, what is it?” Worry starts to tint Alex’s voice.

“She’s missing”

“What do you mean?”

“She went into the bar for my jacket and never came back. No one has seen her. She’s just gone. She won’t answer her phone either.”

“Are you sure she isn’t doing her night job?”

“And just left me standing on a sidewalk, alone, drunk, in front of the bar?”

“Shit, your right. Okay. Stay right there. Sam is on her way to get you in a Lift and take you back to the hotel. Don’t go anywhere alone. I’ll head into work and see if we can pull security feeds.”

“Okay. Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m worried.”

“Me too. But let’s try to keep level heads, okay?”

“Okay.”

April 29th, 2018

Kara’s head throbbed; man, she drank way too much last night. Then she remembers she didn’t drink at all. Her eyes snapped open and immediately shut under the harsh fluorescent lighting. The fuzzy images of being drugged in the manager's office pull at the edge of Kara’s brain but she can’t make out the face of whoever it was. Kara moves to sit up and rub her eyes, something heavy clanks as she lifts her arms.

“What the…”

Manacles clasp around both wrists with a heavy chain, another chain leads to between her legs and the manacles around her ankles. Already the skin of her wrists was tinged red with irritation. It takes effort for Kara to focus her eyes through the pounding of her head. She’s in a small, bare room with only one light above her. The stench makes her think it used to be a janitor's closet of some kind. A harsh mixture of chemicals and mildew. Kara groans and rubs her temples. The door bangs open, making her wince and shrink away from the noise.

“Marvelous, you’re awake. I was worried that my dear Corben here had used too much.” Kara looks up at the voice sending chills through her. She knows that voice. She’s heard it before. From Lena’s hotel room.

“Veronica,” Kara growls out.

“Wonderful, you do remember me.” Veronica’s smirk sits like poison in Kara’s stomach. Instead of responding, Kara just glares at the woman lording over her. The figure behind her steps into the light as well. A man Kara had beat in the ring a couple of times, John Corben. He was the best of the underground fighters until Kara showed up.

“I’ve heard that you were the strong silent type. Always just showing up to a fight, collecting the money, and leaving without a word, isn’t that right? Andromeda?” Kara stiffens at the use of her alias.

“Yes, that's right. I know who you are. That’s why your here after all.” Roulette continues, unprompted.

“You see, no one ever leaves my games. There is only one way out of my service and no one ever takes it. So you see, my dear Andromeda, this is not something you can walk away from. You will fight for me. Then, if you live through your trials, your skill sets will be sold to those willing to pay for them.”

Kara somehow finds it in herself to laugh. This was a stereotypical villain rant that made Kara think of a bad movie or comic books. Veronica looks at her with disdain.

“What do you find so humorous?”

“Just this whole ‘You will work for me, or else’ spiel. Very good Veronica. Very Good.”

“Oh but my dear Kara, you will work for me or else. You see, I know your whole life now.” Kara stiffens at that, thinking of her other, other alias.

“I know where your gym is and where all your employees live. I know where your sister’s apartment is. And yes, I know where Lena Luthor is staying currently. Also, I know where the girl is, what’s her name? Ah, right. Ruby. She’s currently at a sleepaway camp in England. So yes, you will fight. You will win. You will win or die trying. Then, if you live, I will begin selling your services to the highest payers. Unless you want something to happen to those closest to you.” With every word, fear lances through her heart. The only hope was that Veronica seemed not to know about Power Girl.

“Veronica, please. Don’t do this.” Kara begs.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Veronica wiggles a finger at Kara.

“Its Roulette to you. Now, Corben, get Andromeda ready for her first fight. Try and escape and I think I’ll start with that lovely front desk girl at your gym. The pretty little blonde one.” Veronica leaves with a flourish.

Kara digs her nails into her palms and swallows past the lump in her throat. This was unbelievable. She was happy. Everything was going perfectly. Then she was so focused on making sure Lena was safe that she forgot to check her own surroundings. Kara groaned inwardly as she thought of the ‘I told you so’ that she would get from both Lena and Alex. Her thoughts are interrupted by Corben throwing a bundle of clothing at her face. He then bends down to unlock her manacles.

“Change. Don’t try anything. We have cameras and men everywhere. I’ll be right outside.”

Kara sighs and looks at the clothing in her lap. Basically identical to what she used to wear in fights. Blue boxers shorts, a sleeveless blue hoodie, and a dark blue face mask. Black tape was also in the bundle for her wrists. Kara sighs again and begins to dress, at least Veronica seems to want to keep Kara’s identity secret.

Lena hugs Sam tight as she picks her up. They head back to the hotel and Sam forces Lena to sit on the couch while she whispers encouraging words and they wait for Alex. It’s hard. Lena feels dread seep into her chest. The past year of her life running in circles through her mind, over and over again. Something is nagging at her but she can’t figure out what. The only possibility is that some criminal or someone had figured out that Kara was Powergirl. Lena’s mouth tasted dry and like bile as she fought the urge to be sick. Panic raced through her veins as Sam sounded like a droning in her ears. It could have been hours or even days before Alex knocked on the door. Sam got up to let her in and hugged her tightly. Then Alex sat in front of Lena on the coffee table. Lena’s watery gaze met Alex’s distraught one.

“It’s not good. The footage was corrupted. We think whoever targeted Kara paid off someone in the bar to get in and out unseen. One of our tech guys found the van used for the abduction and was able to trace it back through traffic cameras to a street corner about two miles away. This is all we could get.” Alex produces a folded paper with a picture printed on it. Lena squints at the sheet, trying to make out the grainy facial features.

“Fuck.” Lena whispers.

“What is it?” Alex asks.

“I think… I think that’s John Corben.” Lena manages, flashing back to drunken nights in Veronica’s private back offices of her clubs as the man stood silently by. No doubt hearing the sounds Lena made while in those offices. She wasn’t embarrassed then but she was now.

“And who is that?”

“He’s Veronica Sinclair's personal bodyguard.” Alex visibly winces when she says Veronica’s name.

“I take it Kara told you everything then?”

“Yup. But why would she want Kara? Does she know about Powergirl?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think Powergirl did anything to interfere with Veronica’s business…” Lena trails off, remembering what one of her businesses’ was.

“Lena?” Alex waves her hand in front of Lena’s face as she zones out. Lena shakes her head and looks at her.

“Alex, do you know what Kara’s alias was in those fight clubs?” Lena asks slowly, putting the pieces together even before she knows the answer. Alex looks shocked that Lena even knew that.

“I...uh… yeah, she went by Andromeda.”

“Dammit, Kara!” Lena stands to pace and run fingers through her hair.

“What is it?” Alex follows Lena as she paces.

“Andromeda was Veronica’s biggest moneymaker. When she disappeared, Ronnie was pissed. Like didn’t even want to have hate sex, pissed. She swore to hunt down whoever it was and force them to work for her again. She rattled on and on about more and more illegal jobs and how she would target her family to make sure she couldn’t refuse. It was scary. And now, now she has Kara and obviously knows who she is. And now Kara is God knows where being forced to do illegal things just so Veronica won’t hurt me, or you, or your mother. And-”

“Lena! Breath!” Alex stops Lena’s frantic pacing by grabbing her shoulders. Lena jerks to a stop by the strong hands on her upper arms. Alex’s eyes are fierce.

“So you are saying. Veronica Sinclair is behind the underground fights?”

“And gambling clubs, and around forty percent of the drug trade. She goes by Roulette.”

“Dammit, Kara!” Alex groans and begins pacing herself.

“Okay. Well, that’s more than we had. Let me make some calls and reach out and figure out where the next fight is.”

“Don’t bother. I know where it is.”

“What? How?”

“Veronica still wants to win me back in her own twisted way. She sends me invitations to her private viewing box still. It’s so one-percenters can watch the fights and pick from her muscle for higher, and indulge in other activities.”

“Wait, like actual invitations?”

“Yeah, wait hold on.”

Alex sat on the couch next to Sam who had been letting Alex and Lena work through things. When Alex leans forward on her elbows and lets her head hang between her shoulders, Sam starts rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. Lena disappears into the bathroom and rummages around.

“You’ll find her. I know you will.” Sam whispers, Alex relaxes under her touch.

“Here!” comes a triumphant cry from the bathroom. Lena reappears with a crumpled paper as she shakes of a tissue and a floss string. It looked like it used to be nice. Gold trim and black calligraphy.

“It’s just an address, downtown in the warehouse district.”

“Perfect. I’ll get a team ready.”

“We can’t just charge in. Not until Kara is safe. Veronica may want to have revenge but if I know her, she will settle for simply killing her.”

“Lena, I am a Federal Agent. My priority is Kara’s safety. But this could be big. Roulette has been a mystery in the FBI for a long time. The DEO has even been consulting on it. This needs to be called in. Undercover team first, well, address first.” Alex holds out a hand. Lena starts to hand it over but hesitates.

“One condition. I come with you. Undercover.” Lena clutches the address to her chest, out of reach.

“What? No! It’s too dangerous.”

“Either I go with you or I go alone.” Lena raises an eyebrow in defiance. A solid five seconds pass before Alex relents.

“Fine. Give me the damn address. I’ll text you when and where to meet me.” Alex stands and takes the proffered paper. She heads to the door, stopping when Sam grabs her hand. Sam presses a hard kiss to her lips. Alex kisses her back with surprising passion.

“Be safe,” Sam whispers.

“I’ll be back.” Alex reassures her, “I’m not done with you yet, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Then Alex is gone. Leaving Sam staring after and wondering just what she means.

“Wow, that was… intense.” Lena chimes in behind her.

“Yeah…” Sam says faintly, then she shakes herself out of the trance.

“I need you to be safe too. I don’t like you doing this.”

“What? No kiss to go with that?” Lena teases, avoiding the seriousness of it. Sam just glares.

“Come on, let’s get you ready. What does one wear to a secret underground fight club that one’s ex runs?”

“Oh, God. I don’t even know.”

Lena decided to keep it simple. A long black dress with a slit up to the mid thigh and elegant black Louboutin’s and a silver wrap. When Lena reached out to Veronica about RSVP-ing with a plus one, an hour later the bellhop arrived with a simple white box. The box held two masquerade masks.

Though I wish to see your lovely face, no one else should.

Sam was dressed in jeans and a sweater, she had convinced Alex to let her sit in the surveillance van. Which Lena teased her about having the Agent wrapped around her finger.

“I can’t just sit here and wait for my best friend who may or may not live. At least there I’ll be closer and apart of it.” Sam defends.

“Sure. You're just worried about me. Not a very butch lesbian who is showing her soft side in concern for her sister. That way you can pretend it's not doing things to you.” Lena drawls out. Sam flushes in embarrassment.

“I know it’s not good. I mean Kara is in danger. But the whole, take charge and savior aroura she has going…” Sam trails off and bites her lip. Lena throws a pillow at her to snap her out of it. Lena cackles at her friends startled expression before there is a knock.

“Ass…” Sam mumbles standing to let Alex back in.

Alex is wearing a dark blue dress that takes Sam’s breath away. It hugs her hips in a war that tactical pants do not. The deep neckline interrupted briefly to have a small window just below her breasts and it makes Sam want to just stick her fingers in and tear it open. Sam swallows.

“Hey, sorry. It took too long to convince the director to move on this. It is technically an FBI case so there will be a lot of paperwork later. But we are ready now. Are you two ready?” Alex is too busy talking to notice Sam’s staring.

“Yes, here. Veronica sent these. I’m guessing the rich and powerful don’t like being known.” Lena holds out one mask to Alex. Ignoring her friend's obvious short circuit.

“Okay good. Sam, you can sit in the van, but please do what they tell you. Sam? Sam?” Alex finally notices her staring, mouth slightly agape.

Sam swallows hard. “Yeah, uh. Van. Got it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...uhh… dress.” Sam manages.

Lena grabs her clutch and mask before brushing past the two still standing in the doorway staring at each other. “Useless lesbian.” Lena mumbles.

“Bisexual!” Sam cries indignantly.

“Still useless.” Lena retorts as Alex follows them into the hotel hallway. Sam is about to retort again when she feels Alex’s fingers brush hers and instead twins their fingers together. It’s a small thing but it makes Sam’s pulse race.

Kara doges and side steps as the punch rushes towards her face. As far as she can tell it’s the third fight in as many hours. Her limbs feel heavy and sluggish. Still, she manages two quick jabs to the man’s ribs and feels at least two crack. He wheezes and collapses to his knees. Cheering and grumbling erupt as money changes hands. Kara leans over and puts her hands on her knees before the large man in charge of her comes to show her back to the small closet like cell she is being kept in. There had been a hard bench that was long enough to lay on and a camping toilet added after the first fight. Kara lay on the bench with a groan. A bruise was forming on her forearm from a particularly hard block. All her muscles were screaming at how hard she was pushing them.

“Next fight is in an hour. Here’s water. The VIP’s will be here soon so you better fight like your life depends on it. Because it does.” The man says in a gruff voice, tossing two bottles of water towards her, falling short to skitter on the floor. Kara groans as she bends to retrieve them, a bruise on her ribs protesting at the movement. Kara chugs half the first and uses the rest to rinse the sweat off her arms and face. Then she begins to sip the second and stare at the wall while she counts the seconds to her next fight.

The bouncer takes note of the masks and waves Alex and Lena towards the nicer door. Another man opens it for the two of them. It leads to a dark staircase that they climb and shouting grows louder.

“All teams, check in,” Alex commands into the earpiece. Lena hears the odd echo of her voice directly in her ear also.

“Alpha Team Set. Main entrance clear.

“Beta Team Ready. Roof is clear.”

“Gamma has South Ally clear.”

“Delta has North Ally clear.”

“Copy. Stand by. Remember, we want to capture as many as we can but Veronica Sinclair is the priority. Wait for my signal.” A chorus of “Copy that.” follows and Alex follows Lena into a dimly lit but well-decorated room.

The furniture is lavish with leather couches and regal chairs. Attractive men and women flit from group to group serving a melody of drinks from the bar on one side. Music floats from somewhere, doing nothing to obscure the shouting reverberating through the floor to ceiling windows. Lena’s eyes trail through the room before she drifts over to them. Below is a much rougher crowd of people standing around a makeshift cage as two men circle each other and exchange blows. She feels Alex join her.

“I can’t believe this is where Kara would go. She would have rather been here than with me.” Alex whispers.

“No. This is where she came to release all her anger. This is where she came to be the darkest part of herself. She couldn’t so that with you. But she doesn't need that anymore. She needs you now.” Lena whispers back.

“You’re right. Don’t jump people are watching so I’m going to put my arm around you.” Lena nods and points below, pretending to talk about one of the fighters. She leans into Alex as she slips an arm around Lena’s waist.

“This is one-way glass. We can see them, they can’t see us.” Alex points out. Lena nods, grabbing two drinks from a passing waitress and offers one to Alex.

“No. I have to keep a clear head.”

“Just sip it. It will look weird otherwise. I’ll drink half and we can switch.”

Alex just nods and refocuses below as the match ends. She’s looking for any signs of her sister. Her and Lena continue to whisper observations in order to look as couple-y as possible to the other members of the upper floor. Everyone wore masks and people flirted with whoever nearby. On one table were little white lines of premium cocaine. In another corner was a man dispensing pills like drinks. Veronica was for sure using these events to get rich people hooked on her products. Who better than to get addicted than the rich who could buy it on a consistent basis.

“Well look who finally accepted an invitation. I never thought you would.” A silky voice disrupts the couple. It sends chills up Lena’s spine but she plasters on a smile and turns to her ex.

“Ronnie, dear. How are you?” Lena tightens her arm around Alex’s waist and Veronica’s eyes narrow at that.

“Oh good, just being successful in my business endeavors and wondering why you finally decided to join me, with a plus one.”

“That’s wonderful. Well, this lovely woman is an extra from one of my new music videos. She wanted to see how the other half lived, so I’m giving her the full experience. Plus with the whole kidnapping and helping put my brother and jail with my mother next, I think I could use some more muscle around. Just in case.”

“Well then, it’s lovely to meet you…” Veronica indicates to Alex.

“Jessica.” Ales holds out a hand which Veronica ignores.

“Let me know if you see something you like Lena. I’d be happy to help with anything.” Veronica walks away, swaying her hips to indicate to Lena that she was an option also. Lena sighed and turned away. The ring below was getting rowdy again as the audience prepared for the next fight. Lena catches a flash of blonde under a blue hood. The face is obscured by distance and a mask but Lena would recognize Kara anywhere. Blue eyes flick up to glare at the windows on the second floor, Lena inhales sharply at the split skin on Kara’s cheek and the red stains on the tape on her hands. She’s been fighting a lot, Lena can tell by the slump of her shoulders.

“There she is. We should move.”

“How do you suppose my agents get through that crowd of people, most of which are likely armed? Then get up here to arrest Veronica?”

“Point Taken. What do you purpose?”

“Well, she thinks you’re here to hire muscle. So we watch enough fights to see a selection, then see if you can get a close up look at some of them. Hopefully, we can get them both separated then.”

“Okay.” Lena switches hers and Alex’s glasses, “now go get a refill.”

Alex saunters over to the bar with the empty glass and flirts a little with the pretty bartender while Lena watches as the other fighter is brought out, a bald overly muscled man who grunts and spits. Lena slips into the mask that Kara had so long accused her of using for her singer persona. Alex slips easily back around her, playing the part of the awestruck D-Lister who was getting her dream come true. Lena managed not to flinch as the bell rang and the man let out a war cry and charged. Kara easily sidestepped him and kicked the small of the back, sending him slamming into the chain link fence that separates them from the rowdy audience. He bounces off and right back into Kara’s fist in his eye.

The crowd seems to flinch together at it and then man sprawls on the ground. He tries to stand while blindly swinging and receives a knee to the jaw. His head snaps up before he hits the ground again, unconscious. A little blood dribbles out and Lena fears for a moment that Kara killed him. But then he groans and moves just a little. Two more burly men scramble into the ring to lift the fighter up and take him away. Then another man escorts Kara out by the elbow. And she goes without a glance back.

“Wow,” Alex says softly.

“Wow,” Lena repeats.

“I always forget how badass she is. I just always see that scared little girl that my parents adopted.” Alex waits for a response but all she hears is a loud swallow. She looks at Lena who is clearly flushed and breathing shallowly.

“Lena, god I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you turned on? Right Now? Seriously?” Alex hisses.

“No!” Lena squeaks out, “okay, yes. Sorry, but she did that so casually. It just-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Alex says sternly. Lena just laughs.

“Enjoying the show?” Veronica’s poisonous voice drifts from behind them.

“Very much. Who was that last one? She was impressive. Anything better?”

Veronica raises an eyebrow. She holds a hand out and a drink magically appears by way of a handsome waiter. She reclines in a high back chair and raises an eyebrow, looking Lena up and down. Lena looks away to push a hair off of Alex’s forehead, trying to feign uninterest. She must succeed because Veronica takes a drink.

“Yes, she is impressive. She goes by Andromeda. Undefeated so far but I still have a few fighters up my sleeve.”

“Oh? Anyone I might want to hire?”

“Possibly. I’ll let you decide later.” Veronica throws another wink before standing fluidly and sauntering away again, a queen in her queendom.

That was way too easy. Kara knew it was too easy because the fights had been getting progressively harder. Kara paced her small room trying to figure out why it was so easy. She didn’t break a sweat. The only thing was she had this feeling pricking at the back of her neck, like she was being watched. Which was crazy since she was, all the time. Even now she knew Corben was just right outside the door. Soon he opens the door again and prods Kara back into the ring. She stands alone this time and the crowd quiets.

The air is thick as Kara’s eyes dart about, confused. Her heart drums as adrenaline pour into her veins. The quiet is so loud that Kara could probably hear a pin drop. And then she does. Or the soft shink of metal on metal and her head jerks up. A shadow moves just above the light, then yells follow the shadow down. Kara gasps and flings herself out of the way. Kara tucks and rolls to spring right back to her feet. Twin thuds hit the ground as two men land. One pulls a dagger from the thin mat where he had plunged it in an attempt to catch her off guard.

“Shit.” Kara curses as she takes in the lean muscled men, both brandishing knives, both with murder in their eyes.

They circle in opposite directions, attempting to flank Kara. Kara keeps one on her left and one on her right. She can’t let one get behind her. Does Roulette actually want her dead now? Is she insane? Maybe she’s made enough money in the last twenty-four hours? Or has it been days? Kara has no idea anymore. But maybe Veronica has made enough money that Kara isn’t worth it anymore. A flash of metal and kara has to bat a knife out of the way and step out of the way to put both men in front of her again. She’s so tired that she had zoned out and nearly paid the price. The man stumbles into his partner who catches him to keep him from falling.

Then they both charge and Kara sinks into that space in her head. The one where nothing else matters. Where she can practically see every move before the opponent thought of it. The space where time means nothing, everything moves too slow and too fast. She flips the first man over her back, the second she knocks the knife away and jabs his gut. Then she grabs the scruff of his neck and throws him on top of his companion. They scramble to their feet again, one losing his knife in the flailing limbs. The other lashes out and Kara isn’t prepared for it. The blade grazes her forearm, sharp and burning. Bright red splatters on the ground and over the men’s dirty clothing. Kara stumbles back and grabs the wound on reflex.

Laughter and jeering echo around her as the men get to their feet. Kara takes a deep breath and re-focuses and sinks back into the empty space. Block, punch, spin, kick. Each move only using as much energy as necessary. Parry, punch, sidestep. There is the opening. Grab, twist, squeeze. The knife falls into Kara’s other hand, on instinct she takes it and plunges it right back into the man’s stomach. She ducks under a swing of the other man and steps behind him grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into a fence post, knocking him out. The man she stabbed is gasping on the ground, hands pressed over hole pouring blood out. Kara just waits to be escorted out the ring as the ‘nurse,’ a very loose term for the ex-marine with battlefield medical knowledge, rushes to stop the bleeding. Kara has seen the wound before. He should live. Corben tosses her a half used tube of antibacterial cream and tape. Kara applies it as she walks, tearing the tape with her teeth after tightly binding her bleeding arm. She’s so distracted that she doesn't even notice that Corben shoves her in a different room. A room with all of Roulette’s top fighters. Kara turns back to see Corben smirk.

“Wait here. No fighting. Speak to the patrons and be shot.” And he slams the door shut.

Kara walks over to and unoccupied bench in the spartan room and sinks into it. Making sure her hood and mask are still in place before shutting her eyes, ignoring the other men and women in the room.

“What is happening?” Alex whispers, seeing her sister standing alone.

“Shit. Look. Above her.” Lena points. Alex sees the two fighters perched above the ring in the rafters. Kara’s head jerks up just before they fall on her. They watch the fight unfold, Lena gasping and clutching Alex’s arms as she notices the small sharp blades. Lena can barely breathe for the next ten minutes as Kara fights. She almost cries when she sees the blood sprout across Kara’s forearm. She barely contains another gasp as Kara stabs the man. And bites her lip to stop a cheer when the last man is knocked unconscious.

Lena flags down a waitress to ask for Veronica to get her a closer look at the product. The woman seems unfazed by the remark and nods. Lena finishes her third drink to still her shaking hands.

“She’s fine. She’s fine. She has faced worse.” Alex mutters, half to Lena, half to herself.

It just takes a few more minutes for a buff looking bodyguard to appears to escort them deeper into the building. Lena grabs Alex’s hand and swings it a little between them to try and keep up the flirtatious pretense. Veronica waits for them outside a door with an armed bodyguard. A large assault rifle in his hands. That could pose a problem.

“Lena, I’m glad to have piqued your interest. Robert, Be a dear and line them up.” The large man nods and enters the room. Shouting is heard before he holds the door back open for the women.

Lined against the wall are the fighters that Lena and Alex had already seen today, many fierce and scared, most underdressed to show off as much muscle as possible. Only one stands as a splash of color in the dull room, head down as she leans against the wall they are lined up against. Her knee juts out from her foot prooped on the wall, arms crossed, the injured one bandaged. When the door shuts, Kara stands and looks up. Dead blue eyes meet Lena’s then Kara stiffens and tears spring to her eyes. They crinkle at the corners as the only indication of the smile behind the mask. Lena’s eyes dart away to appear interested in the tall muscled woman near the middle of the line. Alex hangs back, trying to inch near the man guarding the door.

“These are my best that are here right now. I have a few that are temporarily hired out for jobs.” Veronica stands back, trying to act casual but her eyes dart between Lena and Kara. No doubt worried about recognition. It would look odd if the undefeated champion wasn’t here.

“However, be aware that their record reflects the price of hire,” Veronica adds as Lena circles the very large woman.

“Of course. I’d expect nothing less. Do you have rates and records written anywhere? I would like to know what I’m working with.”

“Yes, of course. Robert, please give Miss. Luthor the List.” Veronica asks her guard as Lena circles closer to Kara.

It happens almost too quickly to follow. As Robert relinquishes one of his hands on the gun to rummage in a pocket. Alex grabs the muzzle and yanks it sharply down while throwing her shoulder into the man, throwing Robert off balance and tearing it from his grip.

“Move In!” Alex shouts. Putting her back to the only exit of the room and training the rifle on its occupants. Robert reigns his feet and makes to lunge at Alex when a blue streak slams into him and into the wall. One quick punch knocks him out and Alex doesn't flinch her gaze away from Veronica as Kara stands. Shouts and running can be heard in the corridor A couple shots of gunfire but it doesn't seem to be a full firefight. Alex is getting a constant stream of updates in her ear as each room is cleared and as many people handcuffed as possible. Veronica tries to protest but Alex flashes her FBI Badge and hands Kara the handgun strapped to her thigh to keep the muscled men and woman at bay who look like they have murder in thier eyes. Lena had moved to stand next to her armed compatriots as they wait for the team to retrieve them.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, are working the Feds.” Veronica sneers from across the room.

“My dear Ronnie, You took something of mine. I had to get it back. Despite how much I hate my family, I am still a Luthor and that simply could not stand. Also a chance to get you behind bars so you can stop showing up in my life. You, are a poisonous snake Veronica Sinclare, always striking when I’m at my lowest.” Lena holds herself proud and above it all. Veronica is about to retort when a quick knock on the door and it is opened.

Agents pour in, in full tactical gear and begin handcuffing each person inside. Alex waving them off Kara and pulling her and Lena from the room. Alex quickly leads the way through the hallways and back onto the street. Assault vehicles and flashing lights of police cars and ambulances add chaos to the night and a tall, dark-skinned man calls Alex over.

“Director. Any casualties?” Alex asks when she reaches him. Kara and Lena still on her heels.

“None. A few injuries. Only one gunshot wound. Many of ground floor escaped but I understand we have Roulette.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good Agent Danvers. Miss Danvers, please see one of our medics for your injuries before signing the release papers. You too Miss Luthor. Agent, I expect you in at eight sharp to fill out all the paperwork for all this as well.”

“Yes, sir.” Alex barely manages to suppress an eye roll as he turns away.

“I’m sorry, they know Kara is Andromeda?” Lena asks.

“We know everything. All right medic, now.” Alex steers Kara towards the truck holding the DEO medic. Kara tries to protest, but at this point, she is too tired to.

Once safely inside the truck, away from prying eyes, Kara pulls down her hood and mask. The medic does a quick look over Lena then begins a much more careful one on Kara. He unwraps her arm and cleans the cut, deciding it doesn't need stitches. The medic turns Kara’s face side to side as he cleans the cuts there as well. But Kara doesn't notice. Her eyes are fixed on Lena. They burn into Lena and The air is tense. Even tenser when the medic asks Kara to take off her shirt to check the bruising on her ribs. Finally the medic has them both sign a release form and instructs them to wait until Agent Danvers returns to escort them home before he leaves and closes the door behind them.

“Hi.” Kara rasps out.

“Hi.”

“You came for me.” Kara states.

“I did.”

“Because Veronica took something that belonged to you?” Kara raises an eyebrow.

Lena clears her throat. “Yes, well… I had to… I mean…” Lena searches for an excuse.

“Fuck it.” Lena lunges forward across the center of the truck to kiss Kara’s cracked lips. Kara winces and Lena tries to pull away with an apology already on it’s way out when Kara pulls the back of her head closer. They stay like that until Lena needs air. She pulls away and sees the deep desire in Kara’s eyes.

“I can’t just stay friends with you anymore.” Lena whispers.

“Me neither. Can we start over?”

“Yes, please.”

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #Singer #Vigilante #au #fanfiction #wtfuture

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thephoenixmagician · 5 years ago

Text

Rhea Orasa || Character Survey

@cela-astral-projection - who presented a really awesome survey I couldn’t help but steal.

This is going to be long, so it’ll all be under the cut!

Basic Questions

First name?: Rheanna

Surname?: Orasa

Middle Names?: Elizeàn

Nicknames?: Rhea (her preferred name), Elize (by Mazelinka only)

Date of Birth?: March 28th

Age?: During the time of the Game, about 24.

Physical Appearance

Height?: 5’ 9”

Weight?: In the 160s

Build?: Hourglass.

Hair Color?: Vivid pink.

Hairstyle?: Usually leaves it down and curly, but might put in the effort to style it with braids or clips on occasion. Only straightens it on the rarest of occasions.

Eye Color?: Left eye is royal sapphire blue, the other is emerald green.

Glasses or contact lenses?: She doesn’t need them, or so she’ll insist. She might squint if something is just a little too far. She should wear them to read books or whatnot, but won’t.

Distinguishing facial features?: Her eyes, obviously. They just aren’t common, even where she’s from.

Which facial feature is most prominent?: Plump-ish lips, they’re a… favorite among the people she’s been with.

Which bodily feature is most prominent?: Her posture. She can’t quite get rid of the habitual sitting up straight and walking with her shoulders squared.

Other distinguishing features?: Stretchmarks on her hips, shoulders, thighs -she loves them.

Skin?: On the pale side. Has freckles, but more so on her cheeks and shoulders.

Hands?: Slender, with soft callouses from the years of grinding herbs and stripping bark. Always keeps her nails relatively short and neat.

Makeup?: She doesn’t mind on occasion. Eyeliner especially really makes her eyes pop. Won’t say no to eye shadow every now and then either.

Scars?: Plenty all over. The most notable of them are the long, thin ones zigzagging across her back from lashings and a branded sigil on her left hip.

Birthmarks?: Has one near her navel, very faint and looks like a heart to her.

Tattoos?: She’s got a few. One is a simple amaryllis flower that she’d gotten to honor her mother. And another in the center of her back is a replica of a magic circle used in rather powerful spells.

Physical Handicaps?: Occasionally has issues with her shoulder, a result from taking an arrow.

Type of clothes?: She’ll wear whatever, honestly, regardless of who it’s meant for. She’d rather be comfortable over everything though.

What are their feet like?: Kinda small, but soft. She’s got a scar on the bottom of one from stepping on glass once.

Race / Ethnicity?: They’re based of Danish or Norwegian for the most part. I haven’t put too much thought into it, really.

Are they in good health?: For the most part. Her mental health isn’t always in the best shape, but otherwise she’s alright.

Do they have any disabilities?: No.

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse?: She uses the word “fuck” a lot. The girl can make even Julian blush with her swearing, but she keeps it in check for the most part. Otherwise, she’ll overuse

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?: She’s learned to be more optimistic.

Are they introverted or extroverted?: Introverted, but she’ll whip out an extroverted persona when needed.

Do they ever put on airs?: No. She’s too blunt. You get exactly as expected with her.

What bad habits do they have?: Sitting very ‘chaotically’ everywhere, no matter if its in a chair, on the table, atop a fence, or wherever she happens to find herself.

What makes them laugh out loud?: She’ll burst into laughter if Faust whispers a suggestion for crime to her. They’re truly partners in crime.

How do they display affection?: She loves to be affectionate physically. Will trail her fingers up your arms and through your hair if you let her. Uses a lot of Latin pet names and presses her forehead to yours, a sign of love and deep vulnerability. Or, she’ll get gifts. Honestly, she’s fluent in whatever ‘love’ language you speak.

How do they want to be seen by others?: Normal.

Strongest character trait?: Loyal as hell.

Weakest character trait?: No self preservation at all. She’s very reckless.

How competitive are they?: She’s very competitive, but she’ll deny it.

How do they react to praise?: If it’s genuine, she’ll melt. On a rare occasion, she might even blush. But she’ll quickly recover and whip out that top energy to give her own in return.

How do they react to criticism?: She’s indifferent, really. She’ll listen to them, say thank you, and move on with how she sees fit. She might heed to it if it’s constructive to her.

What is their greatest fear?: Losing her memories again ties with being buried alive.

What are their biggest secrets?: Her heritage and status as next in line for a throne. Nadia had always known. Lucio figured it out later, but never spoke about it (surprisingly). But for everyone else Rhea left that part out every time when she talked about her past.

What is their philosophy of life?: “Commitment, resilience and perseverance will take you far.”

What haunts them?: The fact she blinded her sister. She’ll never get over that. And her mother’s execution.

What will they stand up for?: Whoever needs it. And she’ll always fight for the people.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?: Outdoors.

What is their sinful little habit?: Will indulge in certain herbs... It helps her relax.

What sense do they most rely on?: Sight

How do they treat people better than them?: Equals.

How do they treat people worse than them?: Equals.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?: Obedience.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?: Her heritage and the fact she’s supposed to lead an entire country.

What is their obsession?: Books and pretty things.

What are their pet peeves?: Arrogance. Loud chewing. Leaving shoes out in the middle of the walkway.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small?: Relatively small. It was just her mother, father, little sister, and herself. She had never met or heard of any other blood family members from either side.

What is their perception of a family?: It doesn’t have to be blood. She considers her friends family. She considers Salasi the Baker her family. It’s whoever she cares about and would do anything for.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: Just Adara, who is 2 years younger.

Describe their best friend.: Which one?

Ideal best friend?: Someone she can be wholly comfortable with.

Do they have any pets?: Do the neighborhood strays she feeds count?

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: As a baby, she was super clingy to her mom. She did not like being held by anyone else, not even her dad until she was almost a toddler. As a child, she was very wild. She was a rowdy little thing that some people would call a ‘tom boy.’ Her parents would call it ‘free spirited.’

Did they grow up rich or poor?: Rich until she moved to Vesuvia.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?: Nurtured.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?: When Asra asked her to go away with him during the plague, she had to break his heart to get him to leave without her. She’d already known she was sick and wouldn’t let him see her wither. She also told him she didn’t love him when he’d confessed, which was a lie.

What are their ambitions?: Be happy and live a full life.

What smells remind them of their childhood?: Lilacs, teak wood, burning sage, pine.

What was their childhood ambition?: Become a battle magician -like her dad was. Or travel the world like Auntie Zira.

What is their best childhood memory?: Before she lost control of her magic the first time, she’d shown her sister an illusion of the constellations in their bedroom. She made them dance and told stories. It’s a bit melancholic for her though…

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend?: No need.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?: No.

How do they behave in a relationship?: Respectfully. She’s always aware of boundaries and never pushes them. She’s wholly committed and they receive every piece of her love.

What sort of sex do they have?: She’s down for anything. And will try almost anything at least twice. She’s a perfect switch and versatile, too.

Has your character ever been in love?: A few times.

Have they ever had their heart broken?: Maybe a few.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?: She’s very quick to act. She’ll try to subdue first, but if that’s off the table… she’ll do as required.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or tongue?: Both, at the same time.

What is your character’s kryptonite?: The people she loves.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?: Assuming no soul is left inside, she’ll save a grimoire of her mom’s.

How do they perceive strangers?: As people, with their own lives.

What are their phobias?: Taphophobia, being buried alive. Claustrophobia, fear of confined spaces.

What is their choice of weapon?: Magic or a blade. Has no issue using fists though.

What living person do they most despise?: Despise is a strong word, but it’d probably be Valerius. She can’t tolerate him for long.

Have they ever been bullied or teased?: Plenty of times as a kid, but had no qualms about knocking someone in the teeth.

Where do they go when they’re angry?: A walk or run. Or, she’ll climb something, preferably a very tall cliff or palace wall. Any physical activity really.

Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job?: Court Magician of Vesuvia, shop keeper, and [redacted cause spoilers]

What do they think about their current job?: It’s necessary.

What are some of their past jobs?: Court Magician, combat medic, shopkeeper, and personal guard to the Count

What are their hobbies?: She collects rocks, pressed flowers, odd trinkets, shiny shiny stuff.

Educational background?: Was trained in various forms of magic by her parents as soon as she could walk, as well as other combat styles with traditional weapons. She was taught other lessons in history, politics, and more to train her to become Queen, too. She learned most of her medical knowledge from Nazali and Julian.

Intelligence level?: She’s wicked sharp.

Do they have any specialist training?: Magic is her main focus.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?: She’ll try any sport for fun; but, again, she’s competitive so don’t be surprised if she tries to kick your ass at it.

What is their socioeconomic status?: Upper-middle, maybe?

Favorites

What is their favorite animal?: All, especially if she can pet it.

Which animal do they dislike the most?: Birds kinda freak her out, just a little.

What place would they most like to visit?: Zadith or Nevivon. But she’s down to go anywhere at any time.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve seen?: The sunrise from the highest cliff in Moonsea. She could see everything painted in orange, reds, and violets.

What is their favorite song?: Song of the Sea - Ashley Serena

Music, art, reading preferred?: Don’t make her pick. Please, don’t make her pick. Her head might explode.

What is their favorite color?: Black and purple.

Favorite food?: Seared scallops.

Possessions

What is in their fridge?: Fruit, certain herbs, beer, and more fruit.

What is on their bedside table?: A book (that’s cycled out after she’s finished obviously), sleeping draught, and the emerald necklace.

What is in their pockets?: Herb pouch, warding charms, stones, small pocket knife, that kind of stuff.

What is their most treasured possession?: A broken necklace. She can’t remember why it’s so important, but she never leaves without it tucked safely somewhere on her person.

Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife?: She believes there has to be something after all this.

What are their religious views?: Spiritual.

Are they superstitious?: Not in the “black cats are bad luck” way.

What would they like to be reincarnated as?: A bear!

How would they like to die?: Doesn’t care. It won’t matter afterwards.

What is your character’s spirit guide?: A bear.

What is their zodiac sign?: Aries

Daily Life

What are their eating habits?: She either eats non-stop, or goes without because she forgets. She’ll make sure it’s at least a balanced meal, for the most part.

Do they have any allergies?: She’s allergic to hazelnuts and bananas. Will still eat them and get calmly lectured for it by Asra or Julian, too.

Describe their home.: Organized, mostly. Everything is in a specific place. She cleans regularly, especially since ‘someone’ doesn’t remember to.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?: Organized clutter.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning?: Morning tea to wake her up and make her less grumpy. Then maybe breakfast of apple and rice pudding.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?: Nap, read, nap again, sex, nap, snack…

What do they do on a Friday night?: Either go out with Julian, pull an ‘all nighter’ with Asra, or whatever. She’s done to go out or stay in.

What is the soft drink of choice?: She wouldn’t drink soda often, actually. So she’d have no preference.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice?: Anything but tequila.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype?: From this list: The Creator seems the most fitting. Let me know if you think I’m wrong.

Who is their hero?: Her mother.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?: She’d have a different costume every year. So a witch, a mermaid, an android (in Modern AU)… She’d never do the same one twice.

Are they comfortable with technology?: In a Modern AU, she’d like to use it quite a lot. It’d be useful to her.

If they could save one person who would it be?: That’s… a hard question.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?: Asra, for sure.

What is their greatest extravagance?: Herbs, books, and stones.

Do they believe in happy endings?: She’d like to.

What would they ask a fortune-teller?: About what deck they use.

#Rhea the Phoenix #arcana mc #arcana oc #oopsies it's a long post!#I wanted to add photos but it wasn't cooperating #character survey

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annonket-blog · 5 years ago

Text

[TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide, Trauma]

There are some things in my life I have come to realise, and slowly I feel I’m starting to understand it...

I experienced horrible trauma in my childhood.

I witnessed a suicide when I was 8 years old.

My life had always been different, no parents, a difficult child, struggling to learn with serious attachment and learning issues.

I’ve always known what the word “suicide” meant ever since my dad committed suicide when I was 2 years old.

I was raised after that by my grandparents, and struggled a lot to do anything. I just wanted to be wrapped up in my grandmothers arms, protected, and safe.

Until one morning, I noticed her bed untouched, on the 28th August 2004. The day my life changed.

I saw things that no child should ever see, never mind adults. I delt with this alone..

A year later I began drawing, Sonic and Pokémon characters to be specific, I would begin creating my own characters, and get entierly lost inside my world...

I created my first character Rain, a purple dragon. This mentally strong and resiliant female, who would do whatever she needed for her Kingdom, no matter the costs, a sweet, caring, loving and protective person, except in the inside, she wanted nothing more to do with her Kingdom, but she knew she had to, because no one else will. She puts others first, and dosnt let her guard down, her walls are so high, nothing can penetrate them.

Beginning to sound like someone?

Another year later came Aechakodis(Aecha),

Created when I was 10-11 years old, 2-3 years after my grandmothers death.

Aecha was created as a place to put all of my negative emotions into, she was suicidal, self-harmed, mentally distressed and didnt want to even exist.

Throughout the years of 10-16 I felt destructive mentally, like I was about to implode.

How can people say they loved me when they killed themselves? Why did they leave me so alone? I want parents. I just want a family.

I had really no understanding to it all, I was so angry with them, I was completely heartbroken.

Something inside me told me “just keep going, its okay” and another side whispered “what if you end up like them?”

I clung for dear life to my defencive “its okay..” blanket.

Whenever I cried - “its okay...” and I would stop crying.

I thought it was perfect.

But I was wrong.

And it has taken me 11 years to realise it...

Throughout my teenage years, all I wanted was help, but I never felt I was bad enough off to ask for help. Teachers turned me away because I couldnt fully open up to them quick enough, I never got to speak to anyone about my feelings...

When I was 14, I’d meet my ex-boyfriend, we were in a Long Distance Relationship, Scotland to Texas, USA, we met up occassionally for the next 5 years, I had my life planned out, I was going to move there, I got accepted into college, and then everything fell apart, I suddenly had no purpose in my life, no goals.

In college, I still didnt really know what my purpose was, I luckily found a Photography course, and thought it might work, so I tried, it didnt really work.

Throughout that time, whenever I got sad, I just told myself “its okay” and stopped.

It sounds sweet and nice and a safe place,

But it was wrong

I suppressed my emotions for over a decade

And now here today, im writing this at 24 years old and everything is hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I always though that throughout my life, I was a happy person, constantly being dragged down by this drakness, when in reality, I have always been shrouded in darkness , trying desperately to grab onto some happiness.

My world gets so dark sometimes all I see is ways to end it, everywhere I look, all the simple and innocent household objects, turning into something sinistar before my very eyes.

And yet, even at the end of this vent... I still dont feel good enough... I am constantly battling my brain telling me I dont need help, and the other side staring death in the face.

But you know what?... It’s going to be okay...

#depression #mentalhealth #mental #health #suicide #triggers #lifestory #depressinglife #depressinglifestory #rant #vent #mylife #fuckmylife #questioninglife #confusion #writing #diary

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studioweus · 5 years ago

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NOTES: This article was originally posted on the 28th of January, 2017. This was when MAS 0094 (now ONEWE!) were properly starting off their careers in the music industry. The article (which is linked as the source) outlines interesting information about their predebut ventures so I decided to translate it if you wanted to know more about their prior activities in 2015! If you wanted to repost somewhere, you’re free to do so - but please take out with credit! There may be minor translation inaccuracies but the idea should remain the same throughout.

Kanghyun (Guitar), Dongmyeong (Vocals/Keyboard), Harin (Drums), Yonghoon (Vocals/Guitar), and CyA (Rap/Bass) are members of the band MAS 0094. The group, who released their first single in August 2015, focused on starting out through consistent busking performances instead of broadcasting activities.

2017 was their year to leap forward from that. Releasing their second mini album 'Make Some Noise' earlier this month, MAS 0094 has advanced to performing in various music stages, all the while showing off their intense skills to the fullest.

Composing a song for the victims of sexual slavery and performing for children with developmental disabilities, I sat down with MAS 0094, who is dubbed as a "concept band," to talk about their New Years resolutions and wishes.

-- Your team name is unique

DONGMYEONG: 'MAS' means MAKE A SOUND. The '0094' part refers to the the members that were born from 1994 to 2000 in that order. It's also always been a dream of ours to passionately perform various songs. Since it's hard for the fans to pronounce, we just ask them to call us 'MAS.'

-- There must have been a lot of episodes [of pronunciation mishaps]

KANGHYUN: The numbers change when we go to events sometimes. There were foreign fans who were like 'Ah so they're called MASU 0094.' Others mistake the 00 (zero zero) as the letters OO in English.

DONGMYEONG: We met senior SHINee Jonghyun on a radio program and he said '[MAS 0094] looks like a jet plane name.' (laughs). Despite the occasional pronunciation mess ups, I'm pleased with the name since it's quite easy to remember.

-- I'm curious to know how you formed this team

KANGHYUN: We originally had three members. The three of us (Kanghyun, Harin, CyA) all went to the same academy and we matched quite well. But we didn't have a vocalist then - all we did was perform with instruments. As my interest in how the music of the band will transpire grew, we met CyA's close friend Dongmyeong.

HARIN: We met Yonghoon at a K-Pop contest at Suwon-si in 2015 where we went as part of a session. He showed off his amazing singing abilities and was awarded a grand prize. We immediately offered him a spot in our band after.

YONGHOON: I was in college at the time. The grand prize was one million won [roughly $850 USD] and I competed to earn the money. I never thought I would come across these guys. They were brave enough to offer me a position in their band, and at first, they were even playing hard to get (laughs). I found out that they were exceptionally talented so I decided to join them.

--In 2015, you released your first song called "Butterfly, Find the Flower." I heard this song was composed for the women who were forced into sexual slavery by Japanese militaries?

DONGMYEONG: That's right. CyA had that idea when he first learned about it in a WebToon. When we heard the story, the members thought about how we could offer our help to the victims.

KANGHYUN: We wanted to give the grandmothers happiness. So we gathered profits made from our busking activities and also found the time to volunteer at The House of Sharing*

[The House of Sharing is a nursing home for the “comfort women” (I do not recommend describing them as such since they’re ultimately victims, and this term seems to carry derogatory meaning with it, thus the quotation marks) who suffered through sexual slavery]

DONGMYEONG: We spent a year busking and then visited the grandmothers at The House of Sharing, and it was the first time we felt that we accomplished our goals. This is something that I won't forget for the rest of my life.

-- I heard you also did other kinds of volunteer work.

KANGHYUN: We also set up a performance for children with developmental disabilities not too long ago. We even met with the MC in person and let him know about the instruments. We get to learn more that way instead of just performing. We promise to work even harder as well.

HARIN: It makes me feel happy whenever I do good work. When you see how much fun these kids have, a smile just naturally appears on your face.

YONGHOON: We also performed for their parents once. Then for some reason, I couldn't control my tears and I started crying. I thought that this was the reason why we perform and do music.

-- Let's talk about the new mini album you released earlier this month - 'Make Some Noise'

CYA: The album has this sort of feeling where we're just messing around together and not thinking about anything else. The title track "Make Some Noise" was created to mimic the kinds of stages you see in rock festivals. That's what we had in mind when the song was made.

DONGMYEONG: As we were preparing for the performance, I wondered "do we have any songs that are exciting?" and we improvised, we felt good about it, and we even recorded it. The company's response was also favourable so it became the title track.

YONGHOON: We've also tried different genres like ballad, jazz, and hip hop. This time around, when we combined EDM with band-style music, we soon realized that it created good synergy. We're thinking of going a bit further with that style in the future. But we won't be sticking with just one genre. Since MAS 0094 is a team that composes its own music, we'll be trying out various things as well.

-- What are MAS 0094's pros?

YONGHOON: I'm confident that we have the most on-stage experience among the rookie groups. We typically busk at Hongdae, Suwon, Hangang Park every weekend. We learned a lot from the senior groups that we've met (No Brain, DAY6, BOL4) on stage.

HARIN: We’ve also tried putting ourselves in the audience's perspective, instead of just thinking about going up on stage. As we see everyone take their seats, we want to make sure that everyone feels comfortable and can see clearly, and that their view of the stage isn't being obstructed.

-- What is the most memorable stage for you?

YONGHOON: I'm afraid it's difficult for bands when it rains. One time, I suddenly got scared when the power [electricity] coming from the microphone shot up.

CyA: The performance in China was also memorable. I felt a new kind of energy and realized the status of KPOP. That recognition was more than when you copy [do a cover] of popular Chinese songs. When we sang Block B and Big Bang seniors' songs, you could hear the audience doing the fanchants.

--This was the first time you've ever done an 'actual' stage [compared to busking activities in the past]

YONGHOON: We have more music show schedules this time around. We're seriously standing in front of the general public. We want to show a stage with a different style and a good performance.

KANGHYUN: We'll be showing you the 'Mannequin Challenge,' which has been popularized nowadays. We've also been preparing for '007' 'Rewind' versions.

--I'm curious to know about your goals.

CyA: For MAS 0094's presence and songs to be known everywhere. I also want to see us go up in the charts. I also want to go to 'Infinite Challenge' as well. Seeing Rose Motel, Chang Ki Ha, and Hyukoh in person would be really cool, too.

-- What kind of team do you want to become?

HARIN: Boohwal seniors are my role models. They've had a lot of hit songs and have been doing activities [together as a band] for a long time. I want us to become great band stars like them as well.

-- What are your wishes for the New Year?

YONGHOON: I wish we could receive a "Band Award" at the end of the year ceremony.

DONGMYEONG: I hope all the members stay healthy. And also, I wish people are filled with happiness whenever they listen to our songs.

HARIN: #1 on Gaon Chart! I want to accomplish that someday, if that doesn't happen this year.

KANGHYUN: I hope we can release a full-length album. With that album release, I also want us to hold a large-scale concert.

#onewe #yonghoon #harin #kanghyun #dongmyeong #cya #translations #there are a few more articles that i'll definitely translate when i find the time to

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