#exodus ensemble

[dvrknessabides]

Jumping in with the Exodus Ensemble, an interactive theatre experience, I had fun documenting the troupe as they rehearsed their new adaption of Hamlet in Santa Fe.

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

five - vicious

// four // six // masterlist

Pairing: frank x reader (exodus), billy x reader

Word Count: 6,600

Summary: It all boils down to killing Russo, but what happens when he comes to her? Y/N confronts him in the last place she thought he’d be.

The boys wanted to go after Jake again. You figured he would have nothing new to give you. You doubted Billy gave his crew whatever address he was slumming it at so you didn’t go with them. Curtis promised to keep an eye on Frank but you waved him off. You didn’t quite give a damn in that moment.

You wanted Billy. You wanted to tear him apart, watch him beg for mercy. You had thought that more feral, vicious side to you had faded, but it seems Billy was still able to ignore some sort of emotion in you.

Funny how that worked out.

You went back to your apartment instead. Part of you wanted to go back to the trailer and check on Amy. You wished you could call her at the very least. You hoped that Frank hadn’t gone back, or if he had, that he had gained some control over himself.

You showered, put on comfortable clothes, and packed a duffel. You shoved a suit into it, with a mask and a set of Bites. You buried a belt armed with shock discs, smoke pellets, and three blades into the bag. Your ensemble wouldn’t be complete without your pistols, so one in the bag and the other tucked into the side waistband of your shorts. You stood with your long sleeve top in one hand and your vest in the other. Last time you faced off with Billy, you wore neither. Just the protection of your bureau issued vest.

Did me no good last time.

You tossed your long sleeve towards the bag and kicked the vest under your bed. While you enjoyed the safety and subtlety of the vest, you knew you needed all the protection you had against Billy.

Your mind also flashed to the man from Ohio and how ruthless he could be. If he caught you when you weren’t expecting, no protection could put you in serious danger.

You knelt and picked up the vest before switching your loose shirt for a compression shirt. You slid the vest on and hid it beneath a borrowed Columbia Law Graduate pullover. You also slipped a blade into the hidden sheath under the back of the vest, just in case.

You grabbed your duffle and a few other overnight items and headed to your car. You picked up some food and drove back to the trailer.

After a little while of you and Amy, Curtis showed up and soon after came Dinah. It stayed that way through the night.

“Kid! It’s Frank.” His voice came from outside the trailer the next morning, waking you instantly.

You sat up quickly and squinted in suspicion. He certainly sounded calmer than the day before, but that wasn’t enough. You felt out his emotions and found no trace of panic or lack of control from before. Instead, he seemed level-headed and committed. You kept a hand on your knife handle just in case.

“Y/N?” Dinah asked, rubbing her still closed eyes.

“Look alive.” You kicked her foot as you got up. 

You stepped out and blocked Frank’s entrance, which earned you a quirked brow. He gave a quiet scoff and went to reach past you for the door but you smacked his hand away. You saw the hand in his pocket shift and noticed the slight glint of a handgun.

“And you wonder why I won’t let you in.” You commented flatly. “Guess I brought a knife to a gunfight.”

“C’mon, princess.” He rolled his eyes.

“Do you really think I’m gonna let you near her after what you did yesterday without so much as an apology? Or even acknowledging you crossed a line.”

“Apology? For what, huh? What she did was stupid! If it was anybody else-“

“But it wasn’t!” You cut in firmly and you knew your eyes were showing all of your anger. You wanted them to. “It wasn’t anybody else, it was you! It was one of two people that she’s supposed to trust. You’re supposed to protect her, not scream in her face and talk about her head getting blown open.”

He made a noise of disagreement and went for the door again.

You sighed inwardly and caught him by his wrist. You twisted outward while you sidestepped him and put your other hand at the base of his shoulder. You pushed your foot against the back of his knee and forced him to a kneel. He groaned in annoyance but didn’t fight back.

“You are bigger than her. You are scarier than her. You are more dangerous than she will ever be.” You said tightly. “You don’t get to do what you did and not care.”

“Seriously, Y/N? Goddammit.” He grumbled.

“What if someone did that to your little girl? You’d knock their head off. Leave it in someone’s bed like the Godfather.”

Frank said nothing.

“Amy is looking to you and me to protect her.” You continued. “You go in there and make things right or I will kick your ass all the way to Homeland and let Madani turn you in.”

He nodded so you let go. You opened the door and ushered him in, following quickly behind. There was no formal apology but you could tell Amy still trusted Frank enough. But you didn’t miss how close she sat to you on the couch. 

The grief distracted you. Suddenly, you weren’t angry at Frank anymore. Not when he was clouded by that thin blue gray fog. He spoke about his wife, how she knew who he was and loved him anyway. It made you think of your relationship with Matt and you dropped your eyes when you realized how awful you treated him.

He still loved you, right? Not that you ever deserved it

“I’m not like you two.” You looked back up and saw Frank looking at Dinah and Curtis. “I can do things you can’t. Whatever that makes me…” He looked at you. “It makes me.”

“Makes me, too.” You mouthed and he nodded quickly.

“It has to end, Frank.” Dinah tried and you kept the eyeroll to yourself.

“Who’s gonna end it?” You spoke up, drawing her attention. “You? Brett? Let’s say you take Billy to jail and manage to lock him up, great. Man from Ohio is still coming after her.” You gestured to Amy.

“These people, they won’t stop. They can’t stop. They don’t give a shit about your law.” Frank continued.

“So what the hell am I doing carrying this badge?” She asked Frank and then turned to you. “Why do you carry yours?”

“I gave up my badge.” You confessed. “I chose the mask instead.”

“You still carry it.”

“And it’s not worth a damn.” You snorted a laugh. “After my last round against Fisk and his tactful destruction of my partner, it became nothing more than a title and a decoration on my belt. There’s no weight to it anymore.” You shrugged.

“Why take it in the first place?”

“Same reason I went to Columbia, I wanted to help people the right way. But Dinah, in my experience, you can’t help everyone that way. Someone has to bend… You have the chance to stay a good cop. You know what you have to do.”

“What are you asking?”

“Let us be what we’re meant to be.” Frank answered.

He gave you a questioning look, silently asking if you were with him.

You had gone back and forth so many times on whether or not Exodus is who you were meant to be. She was the Widow of Hell’s Kitchen, yes, but she was more than that. She was your creation. She grew and adapted and changed with you. She took down empires for Dreykov and then returned to take down Dreykov himself. She was still consequence personified but she was also humanity. Necessity. She wasn’t what or even who you were, but she was a critical part.

You offered Frank a nod of confirmation.

“I died at Billy Russo’s hands that night.” You said flatly and you felt all eyes on you, gazes of concern or pity burning against you. The memory ignited a buzz under your skin, every injury from that night reviving throughout your body with a refusal to be ignored. It made you sick but you swallowed the bile crawling up your throat. “He looked me in the eye and didn’t recognize what he’d done… Жизнь за жизнь... Билли Руссо умирает.” (A life for a life… Billy Russo dies.)

“Atta girl.” Frank mumbled and nodded. You doubted her knew what you said, but he got the gist.

Frank didn’t speak Russian. Never cared to, even after he and Y/N grew closer. But what he did know was that there were two general reasons she went to her first language. One, she was trying to intimidate. Or two, the reason she used it now, she was pissed off. Fed up with the games and the situation as a whole. She wanted an ending almost as bad as Frank did.

“What about me?” Amy asked in a small voice. “You guys go after this Billy guy, who’s supposed to…”

“I’m not new to two front fights.” You patted her leg. “No matter what happens, I promise you, you’re gonna survive this. I’ll do everything I can. So will he.”

“Okay..”

That day, you went with Frank to do a little digging while Curtis stayed with Amy. Your head stayed on a swivel, eyes darting down alleys and looking a few blocks ahead. You watched for that stupid hat the man from Ohio wore, any sort of cheap halloween mask, or the black scribbled plastic mask Billy hid behind. Luckily, there was nothing.

At least you hoped that was a good thing.

You had swapped your bulletproof and pullover for a zip-up to seem more civilian.

Your interactions with the bartender gave you a good starting point. You ordered a drink first and starting small talk before Frank came up and got to the point.

Hesitantly, she told you about the place they called Valhalla, but you didn’t miss the look she shot towards a man on the other side of the bar.  She said it was like a dialed up frat party and that made you gag slightly. She gave you a quick brow raise and said that if you were blonde, you’d be exactly the type they invite.

Unfortunately, that gave you an idea and you knew you had an old platinum wig hidden away somewhere. You kept that little idea to yourself.

You caught the vague address she gave. Queens, north of 14th.

You left a fifty on the bar and followed Frank out. He dropped the dismembered thumb in a shot glass and you gave a flirty wave of fingers as you passed the man. You could feel the daggers he was staring towards your backs as you walked out.

You also didn’t miss the group that followed you out.

“We’ve got shadows.” You said quietly, putting your hands in your back pockets. The move served as a cover to check the back of your belt line and your fingers grazed your handgun. No blades and that was your own misjudgement, but the gun would work.

“Figured as much.” Frank draped his arm over your shoulders and began to guide your steps. “You got yourself handled?”

“Always do.” You patted the gun at your hip that you grabbed from your duffel before you two entered the bar.

Admittedly, you didn’t like walking into a fight without some sort of protection for your torso. You’d gotten so used to having either a vest or your long sleeve that you felt vulnerable without it. However, there was comfort in knowing you were walking into it with Frank at your side.

“You assholes lost?” Frank asked plainly as you two came up behind the group.

One of the men faced you, scanned both of your faces, and laughed.

“Yeah, we were looking for five million dollars.” He said smugly. “And it was stupid enough to show up on its own.”

“What are you talking about?” You took a step forward.

“Someone’s had enough of his shit.” He pointed to Frank. “There's a bounty on your heads.”

“Didn’t realize he was that well-funded.” You muttered to Frank who gave a sound of agreement.

“Where’s the girl?” The man asked.

“What girl?” Frank answered quickly.

“Someone wants you two and some kid. You’re gonna take us to her.”

“No kid.” You shrugged, both hands hitting your hips. The move seemed casual enough but it was purposeful, putting your hand right on your gun. “Who wants us?”

“Listen, bitch, there two of-“

You didn’t let him finish the sentence.

You pulled your gun and fired quickly. The first shot landed in the frontman’s shoulder, then you shot the man behind him to his left. Frank took out two on the right and you dropped to a kneel. You shot the middle man in the back row and then turned to shoot a fourth man’s knee. The finishing shot came from Frank and you grabbed the frontman’s pant leg.

You yanked hard and he fell to his back with a loud thud. You flattened a knee against his chest and using the barrel of your gun, pressed into the bullet wound. He cried out in pain and you clicked your tongue in disappointment. You withdrew your gun and placed it in the man’s open mouth instead.

“When I move my gun-“ You commanded sharply, your accent wrapping around your words like a blanket. “-we’re going to have a nice little chat, hmm? But if you scream, I blow your brains across the pavement. Got it?”

He nodded furiously and you nodded. You hopped up and let Frank drag the man to lean against the wall.

Your implant pinged and you tapped to ignore it, leaving your phone to buzz violently in your pocket. You positioned the heel of your foot against the bullet wound while Frank stood at the man’s other side. There was less than a second between the first set of rings ended and the next began. Angrily, you pushed off the man, causing him to scream out in pain. You pressed the scar and stepped away, your gun clattering to the floor.

“This better be good.” You sneered.

“It’s Billy.” Dinah said. You could hear the panic in her voice but it wasn’t enough. You were working a lead, and you needed more than that for you to abandon it.

“Not good enough.” You countered.

“He was in my apartment!”

“Unfortunate.”

“Seriously?” She scoffed, sounding near tears. That made you feel a bit bad. “Is it gonna be unfortunate when he shows up at yours? He said he had someone else to visit and I highly doubt he’s got a lot of friends.”

“I’ve moved.”

“So just because you think you’re safe, you don’t care. What about the person living there now?”

“He’ll be fi-“ You began to argue but the realization smacked into you.

If Billy remembered you, asked for you specifically, he had to remember your relationship. Some piece of it, at least. Within those pieces, there was a chance - who knew how big of a chance? - that he would know exactly who Matt was. Even if he didn’t know, it was dangerously likely that he could figure it out.

If Billy could figure that part out, he’d very likely kill Matt for it. Especially considering the fact that Matt would for sure fight back, if not throw the first punch for what he’d done to you.

“How long ago?” You asked, even though it felt like the air was knocked from your lungs.

“Funny that you’re worried now.” She scolded and your hand tightened into a fist. “Who lives there that you care so much about?”

“Goddammit, Dinah, I will sock you in the jaw so hard you’ll eat through a straw for the next fucking year.” You sneered. “How long ago did he leave your place?”

“Ten, twenty minutes maybe.”

“Jesus Christ.” You muttered. “And you’re just now telling me?”

“I’m sorry that I needed to process what the fuck just happened to me.” She spat back.

You groaned loudly and pressed your scar hard, harder than necessary when it only affected you. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Frank looking at you while the man beneath him had his eyes closed and was groaning in pain. You mouthed ‘He’s going to Matt’s’. He nodded to you and reached forward to retrieve something, but by the time his hand was moving, you were already on the move.

Wordlessly, you ran.

You couldn’t remember a time you ever ran that fast in your life. You knew you must’ve looked crazy, sprinting down New York streets in broad daylight when there was no immediate threat, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t stop, not when there was an immediate threat to you. 

Billy going to Dinah’s apartment was one thing. It was something you could realistically sweep under the rug as not your problem. But saying he had someone else to visit, it took you only a second to realize and your stomach dropped.

“Matt, for the love of God, don’t be home.” You said to yourself as you climbed the stairs. “Please, please, please.”

You were near breathless by the time you reached the apartment floor. You were fiddling with your key ring, searching for Matt’s key, when a hand grabbed your arm and pulled you against the wall. You yelped in surprise but a second hand covered your mouth as their body pinned you to the wall.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked quietly and you shoved the keys back into your pocket. “Are you alright?”

“Oh my god.” You breathed in relief, though your voice was still muffled by his hand. You reached up to move it and he let you, though the questioning expression didn’t leave. “Tell me you haven’t been inside.”

“No, I was about to but I heard your voice.” He squeezed your arm slightly. “I heard…”

“Panic?” You filled in and he gave you a nervous chuckle. You hadn’t heard the sound in so long. “Yeah… Honestly, I was so scared. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest right now.”

“It sounds like it.” He agreed. “Who’s in there, Y/N? Who’s coming after you?”

“He did come here…” You spoke in quiet shock. You had expected it, yet knowing he did made your chest tight and that hollow echo of old explosions that plagued you when you two were together began to rumble.

“I can hear his heartbeat. He keeps mumbling to himself.”

“If I tell you who he is, can you let me handle it?”

“Y/N…” He sighed. “You don’t have the to-“

“Matt, if you go in there and he connects the dots as to who you are, he’ll very likely try to kill you. He’ll probably try to kill me when I go in.”

“Sounds like a good reason to not let you go alone.” He made a move towards his front door.

“It should also stand as a good reason to trust me.” You tried, grabbing his jacket sleeve to stop him. He didn’t turn to face you but his head dropped with a sigh. “It’s Billy Russo.” You confessed.

“Why is he here?” His voice reached that gravelly tone that usually paired with his vigilante persona.

“Looking for me, probably. I’m sure you’ve seen all about his hospital escape and the ReadyQuick check place.”

“The Return of the Punisher and Exodus: What Does it Mean for New York City?” He recited the headline to you. “Yeah, Foggy was telling me about the news story the other day. I’m guessing that’s why you haven’t called.”

“Right now, it’s more than just Billy. I will tell you everything regarding him and I but you have to let me get him out of your apartment.”

“How is this fight gonna end any different than last time?” He finally faced you. “He put you in the hospital, didn’t he?”

No, he killed me.

“Yeah, and I put him there for longer. It’s different because it’ll end this time. Completely.”

“You’re gonna kill him?” His brows raised.

“Not here.” You admitted.

He sighed to himself and his hand landed on your side. There was a slight pressure to his touch as his hand moved under your zip-up.

You smiled slightly at his touch.

“You don’t have anything on.” He said quietly, as if it was a secret just for you two.

You deadpanned and shifted your jacket to expose your handgun still at your hip. “If you paid more attention, you would’ve known.”

“If you paid attention, you’d know you don’t have it.”

Your brows furrowed and you looked down, eyes widening in realization. Matt was right. You hadn’t retrieved your handgun. You cursed yourself before meeting his gaze again.

“Doesn’t matter. I have three guns stashed in that apartment and I think four blades.”

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, though he still wore an anxious expression. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I but if I don’t go in there, he wins. If I bring you with me, it looks like I’m afraid of him.”

“Are you?”

“No.” You weren’t quite sure you meant that. “But I know exactly what he’s capable of, and that was before the carousel. Now, I wouldn’t put anything past him… Let me keep you safe this time, Matt.”

He took a deep breath before nodding and stepping away from the door.

“Alright.” He conceded. “But if you need me, I’m right outside.”

“Thank you.” You breathed in relief and reached for the door.

He grabbed your other wrist.

“I missed you.” He said softly.

“I know.” You nodded. “We'll talk about it later.” You promised.

You stepped through the door and every nerve was alive. Every muscle was tense with anticipation and you forced every ounce of control to the surface. You couldn’t falter, couldn’t give any indication that Billy triggered a reaction in you.

He was on your turf now and he wouldn’t have any advantage over you.

You saw his silhouette through the frosted glass of Matt’s bedroom door. Quietly, you went to your first hiding place. Between the fridge and the wall, but the gun was missing. You silently cursed and moved to the second, under the table. Again, empty. Your hand tightened into a fist and you had to refrain from banging it against anything.

“Looking for something?” Billy’s voice came from the other side of the room.

You paused, only to unclench your fist, and stood. You turned to face him and swallowed the lump in your throat, cocking your head as you examined him. You had seen the scars last time you faced him, but somehow, they seemed angrier without the blue tint of your lenses. Your scrutiny made him uncomfortable and you watched his jaw tense, his chin jut out slightly as his head raised in a small challenge.

“At least you still look like you, all things considered.” You gestured to his face. “Doctors earned that paycheck, didn’t they?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Can you blame me?” You laughed slightly and threw your hands to the side.

“I wasn’t sure I was in the right place at first.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your stuff.” He shrugged. “Nothing here is yours. But then I found something and just figured you redecorated.” He pointed vaguely to the living room. “I remember a painting and some pictures.”

“Yeah, just wanted a change of scenery I guess.” You nodded carefully. “You remembered more than that, didn’t you?”

“Oh.” He laughed and pulled two handguns from under his jacket. “You mean these?”

You pulled a face in response.

“Just wanted to make sure I had a chance to talk to you.” He reasoned, as if it made perfect sense.

“Or a chance to kill me.” You countered, a new wave of anger burning under your skin. You shuddered slightly and lifted the hem of your shirt to show your bare skin. He swallowed slightly and his eyes raked over your body. “No bulletproofs today.”

“Bulletproofs don’t cover your head.”

“Touche… Why are you here, Billy?” You moved carefully around the couch, refusing to take your eyes off him and your pair of guns in his hands.

You knew there was supposed to be one more gun under the couch. You cut a slit into the bottom dust cover just big enough for your hand to fit in that led to the gun you wedged between the front right corner of the wooden frame. And under the coffee table, a small throwing knife was wedged into the wood at a steep angle that kept it practically flush.

You sat on the right side of the couch and angled your back against the arm rest. You gestured to the arm chair across from you but Billy opted to stand, though he put one of the guns away. Instead of pushing, you put your foot against the table.

“I came…” He spoke carefully, like he wasn’t completely sure how to answer you. “We were together, me and you, weren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You shook your head. You paused for a second, waiting for his eyes to meet yours before you spoke again. “You were a self-indulgent habit that kept me from killing myself during the peak of my self-destruction. I admit that you were a… lifeline when I needed one, but everything fell apart and now I-“

“Hate me?” He cut in with a slight smirk. It was almost as if he knew you would say that, or he wanted you to.

“Yes.” You nodded calmly, lacking the reaction he seemed so desperate for. “But to be fair, I hate every man who’s tried to kill me. You are the only one who managed to do it though.”

“Did I?”

“Technically. My heart did stop at one point that night. It seems adrenaline and open wounds don’t pair as well as people think. You really don’t remember any of it, do you?”

“You know, I.. I envy you.” He pointed the gun at you. “I envy you remembering, knowing how you feel. I should know how I felt about you.”

“About me?” Your head tilted. “I can tell you that.”

He scoffed slightly but you could feel that he wanted you to continue.

“You loved me.” You said and it was the first time you ever addressed that fact since the carousel. “And I respected you, trusted you to a certain degree. I would even say that I did care about you.”

“But you didn’t love me. You lied to me!”

“I did.” You nodded. “And you tortured me for it.”

“I did.” He nodded, though there was a hesitation in his agreement. “You told me you loved me.”

“I didn’t!” You spat viciously. “You don’t feel remorse. You don’t feel regret. Why should I?”

You had an entire explanation you could give. He didn’t deserve it, but you were willing to give it anyway. So you did. Not for him, or any closure to his benefit, but for yourself. To get that weight off your chest.

“Not when we were whatever we were and not whatever the hell you wanna call this now. I knew I could’ve, if circumstances were different. I knew that-“ Admitting that out loud seemed to make it real, that you had been willing to let yourself fall for Billy before he ruined it all. “- but I was just the next one to take your empty words as a promise… Besides, I was still in love with someone else.”

“Right, now that I remember. Matt, wasn’t it?”

Your chest tightened for a moment. You had to refrain from looking towards the door or making some sort of threat.

“Yes.”

“You loved a dead man over me.” He sneered.

“I knew almost everything about that dead man and he gave his life for mine. Something you never even considered.” You countered sharply. “You had your own merits where you and I were concerned, but you would never be the person I needed. Telling you that made it easier for you to torture me, I guess.”

“Torture…” He repeated with a nod, as if that idea was somehow pleasant to him. “That night, the night this happened.”

“Mhmm?”

“You were there. You said I shot you and had you tied up with a taser.”

“Need to see the scar again?” You answered bitterly. “I can’t completely close my hand or extend my wrist due to the nerve damage.”

“Lucky you.” He sneered. “Too bad Frank didn’t help you in time, huh?”

So that was it.

“Frank?” Your brows furrowed. “I didn’t ask anyone to help.”

It wasn’t quite a lie. You didn’t explicitly ask Frank to help, just mentioned that help would’ve been appreciated at that moment.

“No, no, no, no. You don’t do that. You don't do that!” He screamed and angrily pointed the gun in your direction again.

Your leg tensed, ready to flip the table it rested against.

“Cause I know now! I know now!” He continued.

“Frank Castle.” You conceded. “He tell you he did it? That day he found you robbing the check cashing spot.”

“See?” He smiled and it made you sick. “You have all the answers no one else’ll give me.”

“Dinah wouldn’t?”

“No… But maybe that’s why I liked you better.”

“Maybe… But you still didn’t like me enough to take my side. I tried to stop all of this.” You confessed. “I practically begged you to fight with me, fight with Frank. But you chose a man who didn’t give a shit about you and would’ve left you for dead.”

“Just tell me how.” He asked quietly and there was the slightest plea in his eyes. You knew you could play on that and bring him to knees, watch him beg, but you refrained.

“Frank’s family was killed.” You began simply.

You knew your words were going to start something dangerous. You could feel the tension in Matt on the other side of the door, seeping into your own muscles despite your calm display. You could see the uncertainty in Billy. So you spoke carefully, but bluntly. If it came to a fight, so be it.

“You knew, because you had already sold out everyone and everything you stood for. You did it for money and status and some sort of reputation that you thought earned you respect, but it didn’t.”

“No.” He muttered but you kept going.

“Frank found out and he made you pay.” Your voice began to carry your accent. “He went for you, the man above you, and the man at the top of it all. He took the lives of the men who killed his family, all except you.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? You sure as hell couldn’t tell before.” You challenged and his resolve faltered. “You were supposed to remember everything. To live every day in fear and regret and misery because we took everything away from you… But what a disappointment to know you didn’t.”

“We…” He repeated.

“Ты не понял, кто я?” You asked with an innocent smile. “Aw, Billy. I’m not just the woman you were fucking and maybe falling for…” (You haven’t figured out who I am?)

You stood, strategically angling your foot under your coffee table. His brows furrowed in thought and his trigger finger twitched. You gestured to your eyes with one hand but still received an uncertain expression. You sighed and lifted one closed hand, mimicking the raise of your Bite.

“The Mask you’re so afraid of?” You said expectantly. “Exodus?”

Silence.

“You really didn’t know.” You said with a small laugh.

“You think this is funny?” He stepped closer and you didn’t back down. “I dreamed about Frank and about you-“ He spat venomously as he stood maybe a foot away. “-every night. Who did you dream of?”

“I had more important things to focus on.” You said calmly and your control seemed to anger him more. A red hue started to surround him and you smiled. “I’m not afraid of you, Billy.”

One, two, three steps and you were toe to toe. Your foot under the table lifted slightly and you felt your toe nudge the blade’s handle. You stared at Billy with a flat expression as he pressed the barrel of his gun under your chin.

“What about now, hmm?” He asked lowly. “You afraid to die, Y/N?”

“Are you?” Your hand moved quickly and you snatched the other gun from his waistband. In a swift movement, you had it against his abdomen. “I’d say my gun goes off first.”

He smiled wickedly and your stomach twisted into a tighter knot.

“Count of three?” He asked and you didn’t miss the flirtatious undertone.

“Один, два, три.” You counted slowly, plotting out your moves in your head. (One, two, three.)

You took a risk and dropped your own gun. Your free foot kicked it away while you gripped his gun, pushing it away from your face while it went off. You had to keep from flinching at how close the sound was. You grabbed his shirtfront with your other hand and pulled hard with your knee stuck out to trip him up. He slammed the floor hard and you yanked the table leg with your foot and it flipped.

You dropped and grabbed the knife. You faced him again, relieving when he was still on his back. Your eyes found his discarded gun but you knew it wouldn’t last long. You moved quickly and pinned his arms with your knees.

You let fear trickle from your fingers and the yellow smoke created shackles around his wrists and throat. Using the tip of your blade, you traced the scar on his cheek.

“Maybe I cut you open again, huh?” You threatened, letting your accent come at the thickest you’ve ever used it. “Watch you bleed out on the floor. Alone. Afraid.”

“Do it then.” He choked. “You won’t get another chance.”

You tossed the blade and changed your grip, estimating a path to his eye socket. Once it was raised over your head, he jerked his body to the side and you were thrown into the sideways table. The edge of the wood collided with your notoriously damaged rib and all the air was taken from that lung. You stayed draped over the piece of furniture for a few seconds, coughing hard and wheezing slightly as the pain shot up and down the side of your body.

But the few seconds was all he needed. By the time you had enough sense to look, Billy was gone and Matt was rushing to your side. You slammed your blade into the table with enough force to splinter the wood.

He awkwardly reached for you, unsure of where or even if he was allowed to touch you. You looked past him though. Your eyes were locked on the short corridor that led to the front door. You were burning with rage, fighting the heavy threat of being consumed by the heat and haze of the red manic outburst.

You wanted to let it take over. To let it guide your body and hands until you finally snapped out of it coated in Billy’s blood. You wanted him dead, more than you ever wanted anyone dead.

“I’m fine.” You pushed Matt’s hands away and stood. However, once you righted yourself, your aching rib ignited again and you doubled over. “Fuck.”

“You can’t go after him, not like this.” Matt reasoned as he stood beside you.

“I’m going to kill him, Matt.” You said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care how but he’s dead. You don’t get to stand in the way of this one.”

“You can’t stand and you can barely breathe.” He urged. “You can’t fight like this. You said that! You can’t possibly think-“

“You’re right, okay?” You snapped. You took a deep breath to settle your racing pulse. “You’re right. I can’t think because when I think, I’m too slow. I need to act, not wait here for something that’s never gonna heal.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Who cares?”

“I do!”

“I have to finish this.” You righted yourself again, wincing but fighting to stay upright.

“Is it worth dying?”

“I did that already.” You said flatly and he gave you an expectant look. “That night at the carousel, he shot through my wrist. I had the Bites on so I was constantly getting hit with bursts. Not only did that fry some nerves, it burned through the bullet wound to the point where, once the adrenaline died down, I bled out so badly that I was medically dead… My heart stopped, Matt.”

He stood there, mouth agape in shock. One hand was on his hip and the other was shoved into his hair, stuck at the top of his head like someone hit the pause button. You waited a second to make sure he was still breathing.

“Dex was there and he got it going again…” You admitted quietly. “He and Frank were begging for me to come back.”

“That’s why you tried ro protect him…” He said in quiet realization. You could tell he appreciated the explanation and finally understood what had happened last time.

All you could do was quietly nod.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered and the thick wave of despair from him sent a welcome chill across your skin. “Y/N/N…”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head and used your foot to right the coffee table. You glanced around for your gun and Matt pointed to the other side of the couch. “Thanks.”

“You can’t keep going like this.” He said sadly as you collected your weapon. “Please, Y/N.”

You sighed slightly and moved closer to him. You reached out and gently took both of his hands in yours and almost immediately, his fingers closed around yours. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. Your eyes closed and you let your head fall against his shoulder.

You hadn’t realized how badly you had missed his touch.

“I’ll be alright.” You promised. “Billy won’t be the one to kill me.”

If anything, the man from Ohio had a better chance, but you wouldn’t tell Matt that.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispered and you didn’t need your abilities to feel his desperation.

Your implant pinged and you considered ignoring it, but something about it felt urgent. You leaned away and freed a hand to press your scar.

“Get down here. We gotta go.” Frank said quickly.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“The kid went to her friend and she turned her in.”

“Shit.” You ended the call and faced Matt.

“I have to go.” You said honestly.

”Please stay.” He gave your hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Wait.” He said quickly. He stepped away from you for a moment and came back, pressing something into your hand. You looked down and saw he had given you your knife.

“What is it?” He asked but didn’t stop you. In fact, he guided your hand to tuck the knife under your belt.

“This kid…”

“A kid?” His eyebrows raised and he dawned a small smile.

“My kid.”

[honeyhotteoks]

into the aurora - chapter thirty-one (ot8)

chapter thirty-one: the nights before christmas 

chapter summary: the holidays are hard, and you finally tell yunho why.

special note: well, we're finally here, in the home stretch of this fic. some things will be revealed this chapter, and i hope you feel like i handled these topics with grace and care. as always, thank you for reading. warnings: discussion of anxiety and depression, past trauma, minor character death (in the past), discussion of grief/loss, allusion to a physical injury but not described in detail, a lot of hurt and a lot of comfort. be warned, this one is a bit of a pain train.

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, smut

word count: 7.1K

(previous chapter) (next chapter) | AO3 | masterlist

please see the end of the post for more notes~

This time of year is almost always impossible. A few weeks before the holidays it always hits, the first whispers of Christmas music, the sparkling lights wrapped around lamp posts. Like a rushing wave it feels like no time has passed at all, like you’re still waking up to find everything has changed, your father’s voice crystal clear in your head. 

You’ve always been able to get through the anniversary of the event itself without too much trouble since it happened in November before the explosion of holiday glitter and cheer, and you always ensure you are busy, intentionally over-scheduled to the point of physical exhaustion. Doing your best to ensure you don't have a single second to think through the things knotting together in your gut. It’s always the holidays though that snaps time back like a rubber band and twists the knife, the inevitable slowdown of work and social life as everyone else pivots to family obligations. A welcome vacation for them and a painful reminder for you. 

It’s always easier to slip away into yourself for the duration of Christmas and the new year when you live alone. It’s a lot easier to ignore the fact that the holidays are continuing for yet another year when you close yourself inside your tiny undecorated apartment. When you moved into the dorms, it hadn’t occurred to you that this would be a problem, but the boys just love the holidays. The apartment is covered in tinsel, a large tree glittering by the window, Jongho humming carols, little touches of red and green everywhere your eyes land. 

When they first start to talk about their holiday plans, you find convenient excuses to skirt around what you’ll be doing. Their break means that they are all traveling home the weekend before Christmas to spend the holiday with their families, something that deep down you are happy for. They need the break, they’ve earned it, but the closer the weekend comes the talk of holidays and families is incessant. It’s grating, and you can feel yourself closing in, stepping back, folding yourself down small and tight to keep it away. You just need to hold out a few more days and then you can finally be alone and let this wash over you. 

Two days before the mass exodus of the dorms, for the first time in your relationship, you tell your boyfriends a real lie. It leaves your mouth so easily – Yes, you were going home, of course. You would see your family; you just weren’t leaving until the evening after they all left. No, of course, they don’t have to worry about you.

You turn the conversation quickly back to them- what had they bought for their siblings? Their parents? Knots turn in your stomach as you listen, but you’re so practiced at smiling along while people talk about things like this. After dinner you excuse yourself, feigning a headache, and slip away to bury yourself under the covers. 

Hours later, when the boys have all gone to bed, you are still lying awake staring at the ceiling. Your mind plays over your last Christmas, your last real Christmas, and you try to shake the feeling off but can’t quite escape it. Frustrated, you pull yourself out of bed and slide open your door. The dorm is quiet, a light still on upstairs but no real movement to indicate anyone is still up and about. You move across the room and gently slide open the glass door that leads to the balcony. The chill hits you instantly, your arms erupting with goosebumps, but you don’t mind it, the cold is a welcome distraction.  

You watch the city for a while, the steady sounds of cars and people creating a comforting din of white noise around you. After a while, you settle back into one of the chairs and tuck your legs tight to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself and leaning your temple against your knees, eyes closed, softly listening to the city, and trying not to think about things, to cry. 

It’s not clear how long you stay like this, but the sound of the sliding glass door breaks your concentration, and your head snaps up. Yunho stands in the doorway, dressed in a pair of thick gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt. 

“What are you doing out here?” He asks quietly, stepping out and sliding the door shut behind him, “it’s two in the morning… and it’s freezing out here,” He shivers, throwing a glance out over the balcony at the starkly cold winter night.

“Sorry,” you say automatically, unwrapping your arms, “did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head, “I was up late on my computer, I came out for some water and saw you,” 

“Ah,” you nod, but there’s nothing else to say. 

“What’s going on?” He is still standing, watching you, expecting you to get up and come inside with him but you don’t, “couldn’t sleep?” 

“Something like that,” you admit and run your hands over your face, swiping at your tired eyes, “it’s fine, you should go to bed and get some rest.” 

A look passes over his features, and he pulls the other chair over to yours and plops down in it, crossing his long legs at the ankles and clasping his hands to rest in his lap, “Something’s up,” he says simply, nodding towards you, “you can talk to me, you know.” 

“I know that,” you answer quickly, “it’s nothing you can help with though,” 

“Mm,” he squints his eyes at you, “I don’t think you’ve had the benefit of my emotional assistance before. I’m quite the advice giver,” 

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and normally you would banter back with him, but it’s not that kind of night and so you just shake your head gently, “I know, but I’m okay really, it’s not something I need advice on.”

He leans forwards, pulling his legs in and leaning his elbows on his knees, angling towards you. “Okay, so you don’t need advice. How about a friend?” 

His warm brown eyes stay on you, his face soft and empathetic, and a deep pang echoes through your chest. You swallow tightly and consider it, the thoughts lodged in your throat and threatening to spill out. You pause just long enough for him to continue, “Something’s been bugging you for days and you’re not yourself. If you’re stressed or if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me or just vent if you need to.” 

He turns one of his hands over, palm open and slightly extended towards you, a careful invitation. You reach out without hesitation, letting his large, warm hand close over yours. You turn the thoughts over in your mind and finally say, “I really don’t like Christmas.” 

“What?” his brow furrows instantly, not at all what he was expecting you to say. “How do you not like Christmas?” 

You look down, that sentence your least favorite every time you tried to explain why the holidays just weren’t for you anymore. “It's a hard time of year for me,” you admit, “there’s something I haven’t told you.” 

The words have an immediately sobering effect, and you feel Yunho’s hand still, his opposite one coming to close over the back side of your yours, “Okay,” 

“It’s not a fun story,” you confess. 

He scoots forwards, dragging his chair a little closer and strokes your forearm comfortingly before simply holding your hand in his. “That’s okay, you can tell me if you want to.” 

You nod and look up, meeting his eyes, “I know I said I was going home for Christmas, but I lied.” 

You watch as Yunho’s lips close, and he nods for you to continue, not wanting to interrupt. 

“I haven’t seen my family in a long time,” you shift, clearing your throat a little, always hating this part. “I didn’t want you all to worry about me, or try to make things better, but this time of year just isn’t good for me anymore. I don’t usually like to talk about it,” you murmur, “and most of the year I don’t think about it anymore, but the holidays are hard.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice warm and low. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you shake your head, “you didn’t do anything.” 

“I’m still sorry,” he rests a hand on your knee, thumb massaging comforting circles, “why haven’t you seen them? Can I ask that?” 

You nod and grip his hand a little tighter, “Yeah,”

He waits for you to speak again, nodding once and squeezing you a little tighter to let you know he’s here, he’s listening. 

“Four years ago, there was an accident,” you take a deep breath and look down, you can’t seem to look at him for this part, but you hear his steady breath, and you can feel his gaze on you. “I was seventeen when it happened. I was driving home with my mom and my brother, and we were hit by a drunk driver. They hit the left side of the car head on at a high speed, and I don’t remember much except for waking up in the hospital, but they were both on the left side, my mom driving and my brother behind her. They said it was instantaneous for both of them,” you swallow and unconsciously your hands form light, tense fists, “but I’m not sure if that’s just something that they say.” 

“y/n,” his voice is soft, “I can’t imagine,” 

You’re so grateful he doesn’t say he’s sorry this time. People always say they’re sorry. 

You exhale and say the last part as quickly as you can to get the story out there and over with, “After that my father fell apart, he started drinking and I don’t think he ever stopped. It wasn’t a good place for me anymore, and as soon as I was done with high school I left. I haven’t been home since,”

“Sweetheart,” his voice is soft and gentle. 

“Anyways,” you clear your throat and look out over the edge of the balcony to the city below, “the accident happened in late November, so this time of year is always the hardest.” 

“Come here,” he pulls your hand lightly, leaning back and reaching out for you, gesturing for you to come closer to him. 

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, “I’ve cried plenty and I don’t need you to make it better, it's just one of those things. It’s just the one time of year that I can’t really ignore it.” 

“I’m not trying to make you cry,” He tugs your hand again, “I just want to be close to you, can I be close to you?” 

You feel your shoulders relax. The last partner you told expected you to cry, shocked when you couldn’t and always looked at you like he was waiting for it to happen, looking for confirmation of how he thought you should feel about it. Yunho’s face is calm, collected, with no expectation behind his eyes. You take his hands and let him pull you gently towards him until you’re in his lap and he pulls you in close so that his chin rests on top of your head and his arms curl all the way around you. You sit sideways, your legs carefully maneuvered over the arm of the chair, and your cheek against the warmth of his chest. His heart thuds steadily against you. 

Yunho’s hand runs across your hair, his lips against your hairline, and when his voice comes again you can hear the crackle in it, “You were hurt?” 

You nod against him. 

“The scar on your back,” he surmises, his hand ghosting down your spine. 

“Yeah,” 

“How bad was it?” He asks. 

“Yunho,” you breathe, “don’t, I’m okay now,” 

“I just,” he exhales against you, “I just want to know.” 

You sigh and tell him. “I had a fractured spine,” his hands tighten around you, “and broke my leg, and some cuts and bruises. It took a while before I was out of the hospital, but I’m okay now.” 

It’s unspoken that you could have died too. It’s unspoken that you might have never made it here, that they might have never met you. Time stretches on, and though the air is cold, Yunho’s arms stay wrapped around you and you barely feel it. He kisses your head, and quietly he murmurs, “Tell me about your brother,” 

The emotions well up instantly, a weight pressing in on your chest. A vision of your brother’s face appears in your mind, but the sound of his voice, his laugh, are too far away now and you can’t quite conjure them in your mind. You don’t cry, but it doesn’t hurt any less. “He was two years younger,” you say, “and he was a pain in my ass, but he always helped my mom with dinner and was diligent in school. He was so funny, he used to make me laugh until my sides hurt,” 

Yunho nods against the top of your head and you continue, “He wanted to go to school for literature, and he was good at soccer. He was almost sixteen, and he hadn’t had his first girlfriend yet, but I know he had a crush on this girl from his class. Nari. I think he might have asked her out once, but whenever I teased him about it, he would just go beet red in the face. He liked dogs. He was taller than me by the time he was thirteen, and he really loved American music. He wanted to learn guitar. He wanted to do a lot of things,” 

“I think I would have liked him,” he says softly. 

“You would have,” you tighten your hand against his chest, “he would have liked you too, eventually. He was always suspicious of the boys I was around though,” 

“Smart,” Yunho nudges you softly and you can feel him smiling. 

“He was,” 

“What was his name?” Yunho asks. 

“Tae Hyun,” you murmur, the feeling of his name on your tongue foreign after so many years, “his name was Tae Hyun.” 

“Tae Hyun,” Yunho repeats, committing it to memory. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, closing your eyes and leaning against him. 

“For what?” he smooths his hand down your back again. 

“For asking about him,” you say quietly, “it’s been a long time since I thought about those things.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” He says, the timber of his voice vibrating against your cheek. He kisses you again and shifts, “we should go in. It’s too cold out here and you need to try and sleep,” 

“Okay,” your eyes open and you move to get up, but Yunho’s arms stay locked around you, stopping you from going anywhere. When you meet his eyes, you can see that he had been fighting back tears. You don’t acknowledge it, but after a moment he releases you and you climb off him, rubbing your sweatshirt sleeves across your face and exhaling into the cold night air. He’s on his feet a moment later, his hand once again warm on your back as he draws you inside and quietly takes you back to your bed. 

You don’t talk, but he tucks you back into bed, adding an extra blanket over you, before pulling your bedroom door closed and sliding under the covers with you. He reaches for you and pulls you into his chest, your back fitted tightly against him. He drops a warm kiss against your bare shoulder and tucks his knees up to mold against the back of your legs. His palm rests open against your chest, fingers brushing your collar bones, thumb softly grazing against your skin in a lulling pattern. 

For a moment you think he has fallen asleep behind you, but his voice whispers through the darkness sometime later. “I don’t think you should be alone this weekend,” 

You shake your head softly, “I’m okay, I know what I’m doing,”

He curls himself closer, “I want you to come home with me,” he says. 

“I can’t do that,” you protest, “I can’t intrude on your family,” 

“You can,” he pushes back, “trust me.” 

“Yunho,” you sigh and turn your head to see him over your shoulder, “I don’t know if I can do it, be around your family like that when I’m,” 

“You’d rather sit here alone?” He asks softly, cutting off your thought, “I don’t think I can leave knowing you’ll just be here by yourself, I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it,” 

“Yun,” you sigh, head against his shoulder, “I’ll be okay, I promise.” 

“Please,” he laces his fingers with yours, “please just come home with me. We don’t have to talk about it or think about it, I just don’t want you to be alone.” 

In bed like this, with his warm body around you, the tension in you starts to unravel. You don’t expect him to let this go, he’s always determined about whatever he’s set his mind to, and you can feel that he’s set his mind on this. “What would your family think?” you ask quietly. 

Yunho sighs behind you, dropping his lips against your head, “You’re a friend,” he says, “a friend who needed a place for the holidays. My mother would be thrilled to have another woman around to talk to. Trust me,” 

You turn the idea over in your mind before you say, “I don’t want anyone else to know,” 

“The members?” he asks, surprise evident in his voice. 

“I wouldn’t mind them knowing I’m with you, obviously,” you start, “but it would open a lot of questions about why I’m not going home, and I don’t want anyone else to know yet. I don’t want to talk about it. Everyone would want to try and help, and I’d give it five seconds before someone offers to stay back at the dorms with me. I just don’t want to,” 

Yunho interrupts softly, “You don’t want two days of pity and everyone walking on eggshells.” 

“Yes,” you exhale against him, “I’ll tell them after Christmas, but it’s hard enough that you know.” 

“I won’t make it hard,” he murmurs, “you can talk about it or not talk about it, whatever you want. In the morning things go back to normal, and we’ll just be the last to leave on Sunday. No one has to know.” 

“Okay,” you nod against him, “I’ll come,” 

He sighs deep, exhaling the breath he had been holding. “I know I’m being selfish,” he says, “but I just wouldn’t be able to leave you, I know myself well enough,” 

“It’s okay,” you soothe, “I’ll come with you, but for now let’s just be here. Let’s just sleep,” 

He nods against you and cuddles you closer, wrapping the blankets tight. You fall asleep quickly, his steady breathing behind you guiding you into rest. In the morning you wake tangled together, finding each other under the covers in the early morning light. Without speaking you move together unconsciously, bodies connecting in comfort, his hand over your mouth to stifle your pants and moans as the rest of the house moves around just outside the doors. 

For two days, Yunho doesn’t mention it. He barely talks about the holidays and keeps you pleasantly distracted with movies, work, and making meals, and when talk of the impending family trips arise, he smoothly diverts the topic away before the attention can land on you. 

No one would notice what he’s doing, but you do. 

By the time you’re packed and ready to leave on Sunday, there’s nothing left to do but say goodbye to the boys one by one as they leave for their respective family homes. In the end, you’re left alone in the dorms, the setting sun filtering in through the wide windows. 

Yunho takes his spot next to you on the couch and rests the back of his hand on your knee, palm up and open in offering and you slip your hand in his. “Are you ready?” He asks you quietly. 

“Yeah,” you squeeze his fingers, “your family knows I’m coming, right?” 

“Mhm,” he nods. 

“What did you tell them?” You shift to look at him. 

“I spoke to my mother,” he says, “I told her I was bringing a friend that didn’t have family around this year for the holidays.” 

It was just ambiguous enough to avoid pity, but you hoped they would also pick up on the fact that they shouldn’t ask. You hoped Yunho was clear enough on that. With a sigh you lean against his shoulder, “She’s okay with it?” 

“She’s happy to have you,” Yunho smiles, cupping your cheek to bring you forward for a soft kiss. 

You nod against him before pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ears, “Okay, when do we leave then? Is one of your managers going to circle back to get us?” 

Yunho laughs and shakes his head, “No, baby, I’m driving,”

“You’re driving?” 

“I can drive,” he rolls his eyes, “you know this.” 

“I know it, but I’ve never actually seen it,” you clarify, “I didn’t know your managers would be okay with it.” 

He shrugs, “I live the farthest, and I explained the situation.” 

“That I’m coming home with you?” 

“Yeah,” he squeezes your knee and then hops off the couch, “they just asked that I be discreet and leave after dark to avoid being photographed. It’s not a problem.” 

You glance outside at the now set sun and darkening sky, “It’s a long drive, I can take a shift if you need me to.�� 

He smiles and shakes his head, “Four hours isn’t bad, don’t worry.” 

It takes you another twenty minutes to gather up everything, Yunho carting it all to the car despite your protests and offers to help, but soon you’re buckled into the passenger seat and pulling your hoodie up over your head. Yunho’s concealed well with a cap, a mask, and hoodie pulled up, and as you drive through Seoul you keep things casual and distant. Cameras could photograph you both through the front windshield while you were in the city, so it was just safer to keep a little formality and stay concealed. 

As you finally pull away from Seoul, the highway opening up on your way south, Yunho tosses his hat in the back and slips off his mask, relaxing into his seat and dropping a hand off the wheel to rest on your thigh. You drive quietly and slip in and out of sleep on the way there, the radio quietly playing in the background. By the time you arrive it’s late, and though the city of Gwangju is awake and glittering with Christmas lights and decorated trees, Yunho’s sure his family is asleep by now, so you slip into their apartment quietly using his spare key. 

He’s right, but in the low light you can see how large the space is. Yunho creeps further in, and when he looks down the long hallway he smiles, “My brother’s up,” he whispers. 

“Oh,” you’re not exactly sure what you should do, so you stand in the entryway and wait as Yunho heads down the hall. 

You take a few steps further inside and peek around the corner, and you can see Yunho heading back already, a younger boy the spitting image of him tucked under his arm. 

“y/n,” Yunho says quietly when they meet you in the entry, “this is my brother, Gunho.” 

“Hi,” you whisper and Gunho waves, but twists to look at his brother. 

“So, I guess she’s not sleeping with you in your room?” 

“What?” Yunho’s brow furrows. 

“Mom said your friend could sleep in your room,” Gunho has a pleased smile, “but I think if she knew you were bringing home a girl, she wouldn’t have said that.” 

“Yunho!” your eyes widen, “You didn’t tell her?” 

“Not in so many words,” Yunho smiles at you, shrugging slightly. 

“Oh my god,” 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to have girlfriends,” Gunho observes.

“Don’t,” Yunho groans, “it’s not like that, she’s my friend,” 

“Okay,” Gunho smiles and turns back to you, “it’s nice to meet you, Yunho’s friend, not girlfriend.” 

Yunho pushes him by the shoulder and sighs, before picking up your suitcase, “Come on, you can sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch,” 

You follow him back, waving goodnight to Gunho, and Yunho clicks the light on in what is clearly his childhood bedroom. He’s lived in Seoul since he was a young teen, and most of that time with his grandparents anyways, so this space is like a little time capsule, and you grin at him. “Oh my god, look at you!” You snap up a picture on his dresser immediately, and in the photo of the two boys in their backward caps you can identify Yunho instantly. 

He rubs the back of his neck, a little sheepish all of a sudden now that standing in a place, he hasn’t added a decoration to since he was thirteen. “Well, this is me,” 

“Mhm, I can tell,” you smile at him, teasing. 

“Mm,” he chuckles and with a quick glance down the hall to make sure Gunho has gone to bed he leans in for a quick kiss, “I should let you get some sleep,” 

“Okay,” you give him a fast peck back and he smiles, “Good night, Yunho.” 

“Night, baby,” he murmurs. 

He leaves you alone, shutting the door tight behind him, and you’re alone, surrounded by little pieces of his past. It feels a little like you’ve been brought home to meet your boyfriend’s parents, something so shockingly normal in the midst of what is anything but a normal relationship. You’re nervous about meeting them, but there’s nothing left to do now but sleep. 

In the morning you wake and reacclimate to the new space, and you hear the sound of voices down the hall. You’re not sure if you’ve slept too late or not, but either way you’re desperate to not be rude or inconsiderate the first time you meet Yunho’s parents, and you pull yourself out of bed to get dressed quickly and brush out your hair. At the door, with your hand on the handle, you hear it. 

“He brought a girl home,” Gunho is clearly just teasing his older brother, but your stomach tightens. 

“I was getting to that,” Yunho sighs. 

“You did what?” His mother’s voice isn’t angry, but you can hear the confusion in her tone, and you lean forwards to listen more closely, not wanting to interrupt this moment and make it more tense. 

“The friend I told you about,” Yunho reminds her, “I set her up in my room and I slept on the couch.”

“Jeong Yunho,” his mother scolds and you wince, “did you bring your girlfriend home for Christmas and not even tell me about it?” 

“Not girlfriend,” he clarifies, and you know he hates lying to his family, but this isn’t easily explained to anyone let alone his parents, “but she’s here. Eomma, please.” 

“Not girlfriend, but you’re spending Christmas with her?” His mother asks, a little disbelief in her voice. 

“It’s not like that,” he says, and you can practically picture the face he’s making.  

“Were you careful?” She says and you don’t know what she means until Yunho jumps in. 

“Nobody took our picture,” he groans, “God, you’re as bad as Hongjoong.” 

“You have to be careful with your career,” she answers immediately. 

He’s exasperated, a tone you’ve never heard from him, “I know that, I promise I know, but she’s my friend and I couldn’t just leave her alone at Christmas.” 

There’s a pause and his mother’s voice is almost too low to catch but you do, “Why is she alone? She doesn’t have a family?” 

“Not anymore,” Yunho says softly, and your stomach clenches, “and it’s not something she likes to talk about, okay? So please, no jokes,” you can practically picture him staring down Gunho, “and don’t pry.” 

“Oh,” you hear his mother’s tone softening, realizing what his words must mean, “alright then, let’s meet her.” 

“I’ll see if she’s up,” Yunho says, and you wait until the sound of his footsteps are close enough to the door before you open it. He looks surprised, but smiles widely, “Hey,” 

“Everything okay?” You ask, your voice low. 

“Of course,” he nods, “it’s nothing but her worrying over me. Don’t be nervous,” He pushes you forwards with his hands gently at your back and ushers you into the living room, hand dropping away as you round the corner together. 

His mother is small, only an inch or two taller than you, and beautiful. She’s small and fine, with long black hair twisted into a neat bun and despite how intimidated you are and the conversation you overheard, her eyes are soft and kind, like her son’s. A man stands up from the table behind her and you realize his father is here too, just a quieter presence. Both Yunho and Gunho have at least six inches on him which makes for a charming picture. 

“Eomma, Appa,” Yunho says affectionately, “this is my friend, y/n.” 

They’re overwhelmingly kind, and before you know it Yunho’s mother is smiling at you, “I have baby pictures,” she says, and the rest of the morning is spent pouring over old albums. By the time you’re done you think you know the name of every cousin in Yunho’s family tree and a story to go along with it. 

The plan is that you and Yunho will stay with them through the twenty-seventh, driving back that night so that Yunho and the rest of the boys can pick up their schedules on the twenty-eighth. He and his family celebrate in small ways, you come to find out, the holiday just another excuse for him to get away from idol life and see his loved ones. It’s less tinsel and cheer than you expected, and you’re grateful to not be surrounded by it. 

If you had stayed at the dorms, you’d probably be halfway through your second round of takeout and watching an endless stream of sappy dramas to keep your mind off things. It was what you always did, and it always worked, but you’d be lying if you said this isn’t better. By the end of the night on Christmas Eve, you’re cooking with his mother, and Yunho was right when he said she wouldn’t mind a woman around to talk to. Without the obvious pressure of being brought home as the girlfriend, you avoid the scrutiny of being a potential wife and things are more relaxed than you could have hoped. 

It’s Christmas day when someone finally asks you, the curiosity getting the better of his mother while Yunho’s occupied elsewhere, playing video games with Gunho. She’s made you tea, honey chrysanthemum, and you see the moment in her eyes across the table when she decides she’s going to say it. 

“Your family,” she says, her tone much softer than a moment ago, “they’ve passed on?” 

Your fingers tighten on the delicate teacup, your stomach flipping with sudden discomfort, and you nod, “My mother and brother, yes.” 

“When?” 

“Four years ago,” you sip your tea, glancing away from her empathetic gaze. 

“And you father?” she prompts you. 

You take a deep breath and lift your eyes, “I don’t see him anymore. I know how that sounds,” you shift in your seat, “but he drinks and he’s not himself anymore.” 

She nods and sips her own tea, and you wait for some kind of judgment or rebuke, but she simply meets your eyes and nods again, “Someday he may come back to you,” 

Heat rushes to your face instantly at her words, hot tears pricking your eyes and you swallow hard to try and keep them at bay. It’s so clear to you now where Yunho gets his kindness, his overwhelming openness and lack of conceit. She rests her hand gently on top of yours and you can barely breathe, a flash of Yunho and his faceless future wife being embraced by her flits in your mind’s eye, and tight jealousy knots suddenly in your throat.

“Come on,” she says, standing suddenly and waving for you, “I want to show you something.” 

You blink the tears away and follow her down the hall, past Gunho’s room where he and Yunho are currently sprawled out on the floor, their eyes locked to the game on the television screen. She takes you to a den, a small sitting room with warm lighting and wide windows and kneels in front of a small wooden table covered in white candles. 

She’s quiet for a moment before she sparks a match from the box on the table and lights six candles. Extending her hand, she holds out the box of matches and nods, “If you’d like to light two for them.” 

“Oh,” you’re a little unsure, suddenly feeling out of place. 

She smiles at you kindly, “You don’t have to pray, it’s just to remember.” 

You look at the six burning candles in a line and wonder who she’s lit hers for, but today is hard enough without dredging up more pain, and you get the sense that she means the remembrance just for you. Accepting the box, you kneel next to her and quietly select two candles to light and strike the match. You’re not a praying person, but the whisper of their names in your head feels like enough. The first candle sparks and catches, and so does the second, and Yunho’s mother plucks the match from your fingers to shake it out as you start to cry – a sudden overwhelming wave as you watch the little lights flicker. 

She rests her hand on your arm softly and keeps it there, a steady presence saying nothing, but giving you everything. With the dam broken, it floods from you and you sink lower, covering your face with your hands and letting her single touch anchor you. 

You inhale sharply and you’re trying to recover yourself when you hear his voice behind you both. 

“Eomma,” Yunho sounds upset immediately, knowing within a moment from your place in front of the memorial candles that she must have said something, “I asked you not to,”

His tone makes the tears come quicker, and you swipe at your eyes, his mother squeezing your shoulder softly. “It’s just a candle,” she tells Yunho. 

“It isn’t,” he insists. 

It’s probably the wrong decision, but you make it anyways, getting up off the floor quickly and wrapping your arms around his middle, tucking you face into his chest and shutting your eyes, “It’s okay,” you interrupt him, “it’s really okay,” 

Yunho’s arms settle around you, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head as he looks down at you in his arms, “You’re upset,” he protests, so defensive of you. 

“That’s okay,” you sniff back tears and regulate your breathing against the steady thump of his heart. 

He strokes your hair softly. Buried in his chest you don’t see the look his mother gives him or the knowing hand she lays on his arm, but when you finally ease back down, you realize he’s rocking you slowly and humming quietly in the middle of his family home. 

You pull back and look around you quickly, the room empty except for you and Yunho, and you blush red, “I’m so sorry,” you tell him, swiping at your eyes, “I don’t know what came over me.” 

“y/n,” he smiles a little, “it’s fine, you don’t have to worry.” 

You sigh, a deep exhale, “Thank you,” 

“It’s all right,” he soothes you again, cupping your cheek, “and I should be apologizing to you, I asked her not to pry into your life,” 

“No, it’s,” you search for the right words, struggling to articulate what her quiet reverence for your family and your pain had meant to you. You turn into his palm and press a kiss there, “I think I needed it,” 

“Oh,” his eyes widen a little, “yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, “it doesn’t hurt to remember them like it used to, especially here.” 

“Come here,” he tugs you back into his arms and squeezes you tight, exhaling a deep sigh, “I’m so glad you came home with me,” 

“Me too,”

If his mother has made any assumptions about the way her son held you in the den, she doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s as if the conversation between you and the candles and your crying are fully forgotten, leaving you to return to things like helping with dinner and getting dragged into a game of FIFA with Yunho and his brother. It’s easy with them, light, and you feel like a weight has dropped off your chest now that you’ve acknowledged your family. 

After dinner, Yunho’s parents feign exhaustion and tell you and Yunho that they’re turning in early, but you don’t miss how his father points out a bottle of sparkling wine in the fridge and reminds Yunho quietly that his bedroom and theirs share a wall. 

Yunho’s ears run scarlet, but his parents have disappeared down the hall before he can muster up a response. You pour two glasses of wine while he recovers and you watch him, thoroughly amused by the panic across his face at his parents even acknowledging sex. 

“I don’t know what I expected, but that wasn’t it,” he manages. 

“I keep expecting your parents to give me the third degree,” you hand him a glass of wine and take a sip of your own, “they clearly think there’s something going on between us.”

“That’s probably because there is,” he smiles. 

“Mm,” you lean against the kitchen counter, taking another sip. 

“I feel like they left us on a date,” he chuckles. 

“I think that’s the idea,” 

Yunho thinks about it for a moment, and then hands the glass of wine back to you, “Give me a couple of minutes,” he asks, grinning suddenly. 

“Okay?” You watch him disappear around the corner and when he returns, he has your coats slung over his arm. 

“Are we going somewhere?” You ask.

“Just outside,” he shakes his head, “but it’s freezing out there, so put this on,” 

He helps you shrug into your long coat before pulling his own on and takes you outside on the large patio balcony. It’s softly lit with warm white lights, and though the air is cold, you don’t really mind. 

“It smells like snow,” you sigh, leaning on the balcony’s edge and looking over the city. 

“Yeah,” he exhales a large fog of warm breath and stands next to you, leaning on the balcony by your side. 

“Yunho,” you turn towards him, sipping your sparkling wine, “if we were a normal couple, where would we be right now?” 

He smiles, and you study his profile as he looks out the city, “I don’t know,” he says honestly, “I’ve never dated normally or had a Christmas date.” 

“Pretend then,” you nudge him with your shoulder. 

“Hmm,” he sighs, leaning into your arm and looking down at you, “I could take you to Mudeungsan,” 

“Is it pretty?” You ask him, having only ever heard about the national park, but never visiting. 

“It’s cold,” he laughs, “but it’s worth it. It’s beautiful, especially when it snows.” 

“What else?” 

He overlooks the city again and thinks a moment, exclaiming when he figures it out and claps his hands, “There’s this terrible little restaurant not far from my old trainee academy,” 

“Terrible?” You raise a brow. 

“I mean the food isn’t,” he groans thinking about it, “the food is so good, I miss it. It’s just the smallest place, and it’s only open on random weeknights, I have no idea how it stays open.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “so a mountain walk, and some delicious food at a place with weird atmosphere, I like it.” 

You sip your drinks quietly for a minute, just enjoying being together in a quiet moment without your guards up. Yunho sets his now empty glass aside and sighs, “There’s so many things here I’d like to show you,” 

“Yeah?” You ask, shivering slightly in the cold night air. 

“Yeah,” he says, stepping behind you and moving close to your back, pressing you both together so that he can wrap his coat around you both, cocooning you in his radiating warmth. He drops a kiss on your head and continues, “I have so many memories here,” 

You lean against him, resting your head against his chest, “Tell me about them,” you whisper into the air. 

He holds you close, folding your cold hands in his to keep the remaining chill away, and tells you about his home. He tells you stories of his family, his childhood friends, and his early trainee days – the way he practiced singing and got accepted into a program without his family knowing, proving to them that he could. You sink into his memories and try hard to stop thinking about your own, just for a little while. 

When the cold gets to be too much you go inside, cheeks warm from the alcohol, and he takes you quietly to bed. The house is silent, and you barely fit on his childhood mattress together, Yunho’s feet hanging over the end and your legs tangled together. You wouldn’t dare try to do anything more than kiss, holding each other warmly in the icy evening under the blanket, but you need him here and he stays. 

Yunho doesn’t ask what happened with his mother earlier, he doesn’t push for you to unlock your feelings further, he just stays, holding you without a word when a fresh wave of tears washes over you. He stays until you’re sleeping, waiting for your fitful twitches to settle and your expression to clear, before he slips out and returns to his post on the couch, wishing desperately he could have stayed. 

additional notes: i understand that for some, i may be crossing a bit of a line including yunho's family in this. i have taken a lot of time to only include details that he himself has shared publicly (such as his brother's name) just for authenticity, but i did not make any attempt to find out more information that isn't publicly available. things like his mother's disposition, father's height, description of their apartment, etc. are all fabrications and like always, this is a work of fiction and in no way meant to represent yunho, his family, or ateez in a real way.

i also have made an assumption that yunho may have grown up catholic, given that we know his baptismal name is stefano. while i don't discuss catholicism directly, the scene lighting candles is an allusion to that and to the catholic practice of candle lighting for lost loved ones, though i know this practice does exist in other christian denominations and non-christian religions and cultures. to be perfectly clear, to my knowledge yunho nor his family have never self-identified with any faith publicly, i only know that he has a baptismal name.

as always, i appreciate your continued support on this fic and i hope that you enjoyed this chapter. if you have experienced the loss of a parent or a sibling, please know that you are not alone, and my DMs are always open.

[time-is-restored]

more whinging bc i got negative hours of sleep last night and i need to stay awake somehow lol

cw: discussions of misogyny + abuse

god the more i think abt it the more exhausted i get by the gender politics of ted lasso.

like god i do genuinely think that rebecca's arc in s1 is one of the best depictions of a mean + cruel woman ive ever seen on TV specifically bc it manages to thread the needle so well? like they never tilt her balance too much and doom her to being either totally fucked up + evil OR totally soft and sweet and harmless. and ted's 'divorce makes u crazy' response to her apology STILL makes me crazy wrt the sheer. understanding and empathy there, and she's just. given so much more depth than ive come to expect, especially for an ensemble cast sitcom w a (then) p short run time.

but my fucking god. we literally don't learn a fucking thing about michelle. im pretty sure the one (1) concrete thing we know about her comes in the fucking finale, and it's that she's a teacher for... something. the two most important people in ted's life and we don't know anything abt them! they're literally just empty symbols representing the importance of Family™, and that vacancy does nothing but weigh ted's storyline down!

like, i liked michelle's episode/storyline in s1, bc the blinding novelty of a woman instigating a divorce not being the Actual Devil, as well as a just. generally very empathetic + nuanced take on how divorce shakes out between two ppl who really care for each other, was so 'WAIT TV CAN DO THIS??' that i felt satisfied with that being Her Arc™. divorce happens, life happens, people fall out of love, and it hurts but its ultimately okay. the show, at the time, was ultimately abt a football club and how caring abt that football club helped everyone around it.

but then the show sticks around, and her continued absence just... raises a lot of questions? how did the conversation abt ted going overseas happen? what conversations did they have abt henry? how long term was it intended to be? did money really not factor into it all? like it's one thing for a character's backstory to be vague when it's not really the focus of attention (s1 was ultimately rebecca's story before anyone else's), but when it's the load bearing stone of their '''''''arc''''''' in s3...????

like. god. and then it fucking infects every other woman on the show!

sassy + nora? well sure we'll give you a softball - you can have one (1) scene where a woman is able to resolutely and firmly reject a man asking her out without immediately being seen as cruel or gameplayey (not that the audience will see it that way! she's already a lecherous temptress for them!), but neither of them will ever be able to speak to rebecca onscreen again, even after the heart-wrenching scenes in s1 CLEARLY establishing them as a beating heart of rebecca's arc.

shandy? nope, don't even think abt her motivations/drives, just forget her. simi? LMAOOO imagine a black woman getting a personality beyond righteous anger. jack? three-four episodes, and we learn so little abt her that her conflict with keeley - which SHOULD'VE have been a huge emotional beat - just feels like a kick in the teeth (and while, yes, i absolutely agree that in a real world context, jack's rejection of keeley would be largely motivated by class, in Ted Lasso Land™ rebecca is just as rich - if not richer? - and we're never once encouraged to interrogate her priorities).

barbara's the one that really makes me miserable, bc i feel like on a show with less run time, she could've played REALLY well. she's a great contrast to keeley, has an amazing delivery, and the scene where keeley + her first discuss the snowglobes shows that she has the potential for some really moving vulnerability + pathos. but instead they give SO many of keeley's scenes to characters who ultimately get written out, so when barbara stays it's like... okay? sure? like, i was so stoked that barbara survived the Mass Exodus of side characters that i didn't wanna look the gift horse in the mouth but... wasn't the last thing we saw of her and keeley's relationship like. general resentment + distrust abt the shandy debacle? when did that improve? how???

i don't think i'll ever have enough mental real estate to explain how disappointed keeley + rebecca's 'arcs' in s3 made me, and at least there's the saving grace that. virtually no one other than jamie got a coherent arc this season, so at least it was on some levels an egalitarian screw up. but fuck dude. keeley was just forced to react to bad things that were happening to her, and we got to see her do her job (which, unbelievably, does actually involve things other than being an awkward manager!) precisely one (1) time.

i even like rebecca's arc on paper - i think it's really cool to see a character backslide so intensely in terms of obsessing over and struggling to come to terms w a past relationship, especially an abusive one, bc like. yeah! that shit sticks with you for longer than a season! and beyond that, seeing her regain her sense of self and what SHE actually gives a shit about was oftentimes just as sweet as s1. but her scenes were poorly connected, and she had to carry WAY too much of a burden as the Resident Speech Giver for any of her internal characterisation to make sense. like, sorry, but it's kind of hard to believe a character's Going Through It™ when they have to spent near 100% of their screen time giving Take It From Me, Kid, speeches. and then she's not even given a real opportunity TO fuck up + sabotage her relationships, even when she starts getting really weird w ted! it's all just so meaningless and like nothing that she does is ever going to matter. she never speaks to zava again, we don't get to see her interact w bex or kate, her pleas to ted get COMPLETELY shut down...

but the thing that REALLY makes me sick is this complete lack of interiority absolutely butchers the characters of jade + jane, who are otherwise RIFE with potential. like, jade is a completely unflinching, unapologetic asshole to nate + his family, and that's never interrogated. even in Sitcom Land™, it's more than reasonable to view jade's actions as racist, especially when she doesn't give the same treatment to others (at least not as i recall? honestly i usually watch the taste of athens scenes while peeking out behind my hands, so i could 100% be wrong here). and yet, suddenly, and completely inexplicably, she's charmed by nate. she wants to give him the time of day. she finds him attractive, and wants to date him, and generally take control of his life and force him into a decision that is literally the exact opposite of what he expressed wanting to do. except even that LAST thing isn't allowed to be interrogated, bc god FORBID a woman is enough of a fully realised creation to actually be culpable of the terrible shit they do!

and fucking jane??? beard's so head-over-heels for this woman that the emotional abuse + extremely controlling tendencies don't even make him bat an eye, and we don't get to know anything about her? she's literally just the suggestion of an alluring woman! good at sex! good at chess! fuck you if you wanna know more, even though the show ENDLESSLY hits you over the head with how painful their relationship is for beard - beard who is given virtually no other storyline. like, i literally can't read brendan's refusal to label jane as abusive as anything other than like. that bio-essentialism shit where ppl 'women are better than men <3' so hard that they end up genuinely and wholeheartedly arguing that someone's sex defines their morals - or worse, that their sex is a deciding factor in determining whether someone's actions are good or bad. not context, but a legitimate 'add points if woman, take away points if man' variable.

like that's so feminism 101 it's legitimately almost worse than nothing. that's like getting as far as 'hey so you know how we're all inundated with both implicit + explicit messaging abt what is Valued and Good for women vs men to-' before shoving ur earplugs in and going 'if you are oppressed by society we'll automatically stamp a 'good person' label on ur head and now we don't have to think abt any of our biases + internalised beliefs ever again <333'. the most useless and fucking pointless stand against the patriarchy ever, especially coming from the same show that ENDLESSLY slots characters into the 'loving gf/wife' archetype and then give them Literally Nothing Else. my comrades you have literally just done madonna/whore 2: oops all madonnas! this is not liberation!!!! this is a miserable cage!!!!!!!!!

im just. higgins' wife. mae. trent's daughter and anonymous 'her'. the women at the hotel and the restaurants and the firm and the fucking physios, fuck - dani's gfs! who are they? what do they want? where do they go when the camera stops rolling? can anyone hear me?? hello??? hello???? brendan hunt i am OUTSIDE YOUR HOUUUUUUSE

[blindrapture]

july 4.

the last section of this log was entirely rewritten, from the moment Jordan and Donnie step onto American soil. when I began my rewrite of Act 2, I wanted to start with that part. there were two reasons for this. 1) in all the earlier drafts, touchdown in Atlantic City is where we met a major character. for this complete Act 2 overhaul, I wanted to overhaul the characters as well, and the dynamics of the protagonist 'party.' so we won't be meeting This Character for a while yet. 2) I was rewriting a decade-old story at a much different time of my life, with a lot more lessons learned. I knew, even if I successfully put myself in the old-school teenage Rapture headspace, there was going to be discrepancy between the parts that were Overhauled and the parts that were simply Touched Up. I had to allow for that, I had to allow for the possibility of a jarring transition. having this align with a geographical shift.. felt right.

England in this story is how I saw it at age 16, and I'm totally okay with that. but America is a very different "character." America is where I wanted to go, even then, and frankly I never lost that part of me. America is where I had been brought up to live. and America's a much bigger place, with.. frankly, much more distinct areas, much more distinct boundaries between town and countryside. ("wait, jordan, I am from England and I can tell the difference between town and countryside," yeah well what about up north? what about Yorkshire? that's where my family's from. it's not so much that I'm saying the towns look like countrysides, more that the towns are so close together that sometimes a drive between them just feels like a brief trip on a motorway and then you're back into a town that looks identical. no real transition. and have you also spent half your life in America? there are differences in how everything feels.) so okay, maybe it's not so much some brilliant real-life insight I'm bringing to the table here, maybe it's more of... y'know, those words I love so much: Poetry. Art. Expressionism. Symbolism. maybe these observations say more about Jordan than about England. but I mean, it's also not a revelation to point out America is a different scale of country. there's more room for things to happen. and more media to pull sources from. the point is. we're in America now. we're in Rapture's America. and the writer at this point is now 29 years old. you are allowed to feel some serious excitement. ;3

//////

so this whole serial, "Rael's Exodus," had a simple enough structure: I gave you a boatful of people to gradually get picked off while the Rake and the Massacrer acted as two small-time distractions until it was time to learn about EAT and Indisen. I think it worked for that, I think any claustrophobic horror story needs the ensemble cast and the misdirection plot. it's not quite a mystery story, it's suspense. you can't really predict how the twists will go, though it is entirely possible to see through the misdirection. the goal here was to feed you information about EAT, even with all the Indisen stuff. the Indisen are an important force too, absolutely, but their explanation won't come for a long time. (it was also important to introduce you to the Masked Massacrer, and to kill off the fourth and final Rake. this serial was written with functional purposes in mind, and that actually helped the tone. nobody likes to be trapped in an enclosed space with the unspoken Plot making decisions for you.)

the real point here was EAT.

you needed to meet EAT. and EAT needed to meet Jordan.

EAT is... important. of course it was gonna be, as it's my Fear, EAT is my horror creation. as soon as Rapture introduced the Wooden Girl and opened the door for a Fear narrative, it was only a matter of time before I'd include her too. I'd only created EAT a few months prior by that point, and only included her in one story (Jordan Eats Normally Now, which I was starting to feel limited by), I wanted to show her from more angles, let her grow, and maybe even find a way to make her as frightening as I had always wanted. as a work of function in this story of moving parts, EAT's role in Act 1 doubles as the foil for the Harlequin. Act 1 has quite a few Fears in it, but most of them had bit parts (and Thoth as a deuter-narrator); the major Fears were Harly and EAT. these were the Fears that Jordan spent the most time with and had actual back-and-forth conversations with. they are meant to be compared and contrasted. they are both characters.

the Indisen exist to show you EAT's limits. you won't exactly understand those limits yet, but you are supposed to know that EAT is being thwarted by something. is it a good thing for us? you can use some reason and figure out what the story has already communicated to you, you will hit a wall of "we simply don't know that part yet," but it helps to delineate that wall for yourself.

the Masked Massacrer is. god, it's weird. no matter how many edits I do, no matter how stupid I think that name is, and no matter how many times I forget what the point of the Massacrer was and assume it's just a random little human threat, I always... leave it there. because I also always remember how the Massacrer exists to turn a lot of wheels that need turning. the Massacrer keeps a lot of moving parts moving. and I'm talking about large-scale moving parts here! the Masked Massacrer is a tiny little lever that does a lot of things! that's all just to say, I keep it there for a reason. but, it's an iteration on the classic Slender Man trope of The Proxy. it's a Proxy for something else. even wears a mask. it's a Masky. it's absolutely a Masky. that's all you gotta know right now.

what else should I say here. I think I've covered a lot. I also mentioned some things that I could say a little more about but that I just instead... opened the door for you to interpret. because this ogtrib bonus series is like book club. or also omake, Reala made that comment a while ago, this is like omake.

but tell you what. I'll do one more paragraph, this time talking about Act 1 as a whole, in retrospect. and then I'll leave you with some bonus Rapture Art.

you've now read the complete Act 1, "The Coming of the Four Rakes." it lasted from May 23rd until July 4th, making it the Act with the most days in it. but amusingly enough, despite having the most days, at 62,000 words it's by far the shortest Act. I wrote it over the course of about two months when I was 16, in preparation for the time I would run away from a home I was scared of. I lived in fear a lot back then. I also wrote it because people were reading it. that's really big for me. little Jordan had an audience, there were people who cared about him (!!!) and people who just wanted to see what the Fear Mythos could do, and Jordan was in some real sense a spokesperson for the Fear Mythos. the mythos had only started in February/March 2011, so we hadn't been going for that long, but we had numbers and we had ambition. I was having a little fun writing a Fictional Blog, it was a new style for me, but everyone was doing one of those, and we were doing them after the Slender Man Mythos had already done a literally countless amount of them. there was untapped potential in breaking away from the blog format. so Rapture was Internet Fiction instead. it was allowed to loom out of our expectations, mine included. the only boundaries were My Abilities and The Website It Was On. Act 1 represents the earliest stage of all this. my abilities were little tiny baby abilities by that point. and while I go back and forth now on whether the later stages of the story, written when I was 17 and 18, were even all that different from the baby-ness of Act 1 (just with different tools), I can't deny that the creative spark I followed was in fact leading me to a story the world needed to see. (the fact that I have been so isolated that I have not been able to show the world this story, well, that's just circumstance. once it's out there, Rapture's here forever. it will be read. it's only a matter of time.) there were serious ambitions. even in Act 1. Rapture was the story that made me believe in it as I wrote it. and god, do I believe in it now.

/////////

here's that art I promised.

This is my digitization (and coloring) of one of Rappu's final sketches done for Rapture. It's Salmacis/EAT, with a bunch of Camper. I don't think I ever actually showed this one, not even the original sketch, on this tumblr.

Of course, there is no One Big Lady that controls all the Camper. That's Rappu's artistic license, it's symbolic.

But, look at that thing. You're with me on this, right? That's a beautiful picture.

This is a good note to end Act 1 on.

See you tomorrow for Act 2. :) God, I'm so excited.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, November 8

XANDER: You were looking at my neck. ANGEL: What? XANDER: You were checking out my neck! I saw that. ANGEL: No, I wasn't! XANDER: Just keep your distance, pal. ANGEL: I wasn't looking at your neck. XANDER: I told you to eat before we left.

~~BtVS 1x12 “Prophecy Girl”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Overdue Honesty (Buffy, Joyce, others, PG) by badly_knitted

Diary: Prologue (Xander, T, Devil May Cry xover) by madimpossibledreamer

Head Games (Angel/Darla, T) by NAOA

I may never get to Heaven (but I once came mighty close) (Buffy/Angel, T) by angelus2hot

Amaranthine (Buffy/Angel, T) by Lalaith Quetzalli

Tabula Inscripta (Buffy/Spike, R) by all_choseny

My Babysitter's A Vampire (Buffy/Spike, PG) by violettathepiratequeen

[Chaptered Fiction]

Breathe Again, Chapters 1-2/17 (Angel/Cordelia, M) by Califi62

Exodus Take Two, Chapter 3/3 Complete! (Harry Potter xover, Xander, Harry Potter, not rated) by danu40k

Days of Future Past, Chapter 29/34 (Buffy/OC, Angel/OC, Buffy/Angel, M) by a2zmom

Heart Don't Lie, Chapter 19/25 (Buffy/Spike, E) by NautiBitz

Blood and Chaos, Chapter 37/? (Ensemble, M) by quote_Amy_unquote (Sannah_banana)

Lindsey's Pride, Chapter 4 (Angel, Lindsey, T) by TinyDancer96

Her Old Fashioned Boy, Chapter 13 (Giles/Jenny, T) by Bobbie23

1632 Revello Drive, Chapter 6 (Buffy, Giles, T) by A Most Sovereign Lady

[French language] Do as Romans do, Chapter 4 (Dawn/Spike, T) by OldGirl-NoraArlani

Against All Odds, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by CheekyKitten

Destiny or Choices Made?, Chapter 26 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by charmed4lifekaren

Out of this World, love..., Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Miss Kitty

the Eyes, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

Dusk Rising, Chapter 25 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by HappyWhenItRains

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: A fragment from a bigger Spuffy project I’ve been working on for a while. (worksafe) by lamaraloon

Artwork: [Drawing of Buffy] (worksafe) by nicknamekittyname

Cosplay: For anyone who can guess the character I’m attempting to cosplay here. Really digging his outfits (Lorne, worksafe) by geekstuffkittykat

Artwork: They know exactly what we’re here for. (Oz, slightly NSFW) by snakeliciousbaby

Fanvid: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce | Anti Hero by 1SnoWhiteQueen1

Fanvid: Marvel | Buffyverse by Jess Wilson

[Reviews & Recaps]

ReWatch: Angel (the series) S1, E19 - 22 by kimannebb

Turning The Vampire Genre on its Head (Buffy The Vampire Slayer analysis) by mediaconsumernightwriter

[Recs & In Search Of]

Our next fic for IWRY 2023 is by thenewbuzwuzz recced by original-iwry-marathon

[Community Announcements]

Upcoming December Event: 'Tis The Season by Sunnydale After Dark

[Fandom Discussions]

It is f*cking insane how much better of a character angel becomes when he’s not centered around buffy by junotter

God, rewatching Angel is always so brutally bittersweet by andrasta14

Why didn’t sunnydale coffins have stakes built into them by twosomeofcuteness

November 6, 2001: Once More, With Feeling aired for BTVS season 6, episode 7. by on-this-day-btvs

[About Buffy/Cordy] by jennycalendar

Watching S2 of Buffy after watching S7 is serious whiplash. by muse-write

This is why Willow Rosenberg is such an important character in ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and why she’s so relatable and resonatable by girl4music

Honestly I just try to ignore everything mentioning Giles and his abandoning of Buffy and the Scoobies by girl4music

I just woke up thinking about how unfair the watcher’s council was for never paying the slayer by mariepv

Rather than “how spuffy,” reasons “why spuffy.” Why do spuffies spuffy? by deadthingu

So I was watching ‘Once More, With Feeling’ earlier and [shortened] I noticed Willow and Tara’s physical distance a lot in the background of the Magic Box by girl4music

weird that in Spike: After the Fall, I find that the characters’ voices aren’t as show-accurate as Asylum or Shadow Puppets by absolutely-wretched

what if I said Cordelia’s flat tone is bc she’s autistic what then by svngriche

Ok hot take maybe but the whole like cheating thing between willow and xander personally made no sense to me by treeshman

I have one big thought. When Buffy shows up in the office to ask Giles for help with Angel by twosomeofcuteness

[Amends: episode rewatch and notes] by twosomeofcuteness

hey. um. this just occurred to me [Giles and Jenny using the same crossbow] by jennycalendar

THIS IS SUCH A LINE. especially considering where she [Willow] goes next! by jennycalendar

Seth Green leaving, was it dodging a bullet storywise by Btvs fan, multiple posters

Should Buffy have used force? by NoShip, multiple posters

First genetically born Slayer? by Firm_Zookeepergame16

What is everyone opinion on Harmony? by RachelisRach

What part did Xander really play in the enjoining spell? by JeSuisLaCockamouse

Why Spike? by Hairy-Membership-461

A defence of Spike by inconspicuous2012

What if Spike got the Gypsy curse instead by The810kid

Angel vs Spike in AtS 5.08 “Destiny” (spoilers for AtS) by AccordingReference3

Was Angel more allowed to graphic violence than Buffy? by SafiraAshai

What the show was saying with Spike's development by Nostromo87

Maybe an unpopular opinion on Riley and Buffy in season 5 by Eagles56

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[dustedmagazine]

Henry Threadgill — The Other One (Pi)

The Other One by Henry Threadgill

Over the last five decades, Henry Threadgill has been creating a singular body of work, as both a distinguished reed players and an inimitable ensemble leader. Early on, Threadgill cultivated his sense of ensemble arranging and playing as member of AACM in the trio Air and in groups lead by Muhal Richard Abrams, Anthony Braxton and Roscoe Mitchell. But from X-75 Volume 1, his first recording under his own name released in 1979 with a group comprised of four woodwind players, three bassists, piccolo bass and vocals, he revealed a penchant for creating improvisational frameworks around distinctive voicings. Since that time, he’s honed his approach with long-standing ensembles, each building on his ear for angular, contrapuntal themes extended through open group interplay.

First up was The Henry Threadgill Sextet (a seven-piece group designated as a sextet because he saw the two drummers as a single percussion unit) featuring his alto sax along with trumpet, the low-end double bass/cello/trombone, and a percussion duo. A foray into social dance music, his Society Situation Dance Band, went unrecorded but his next ensemble, Very Very Circus, with sax, two tubas, two electric guitars, French horn, and drums added a pulsing groove while expanding on his multifaceted ear toward hocketed lines and intricate, stratified voicings. Make a Move and Zooid pared things back a bit in the size of the ensemble while still incorporating intriguing instrumental choices like paired acoustic guitars and cellos, accordion, oud and tuba. Then, with Double Up, Threadgill mixed in paired reeds, paired pianos, cello, tuba and drums, expanded even further with 14 Or 15 Kestra: Agg. With each of these ensembles, he extended his compositional approach, diving in to the timbral and dynamic opportunities afforded by an increasingly orchestral instrumental palette. All of this doesn’t even touch on the various commissions for orchestra, string quartet, and chamber ensembles he undertook. 

In May 2022, Threadgill presented one of his most ambitious projects to date at Roulette Intermedium in Brooklyn, New York. The composer prepared a three-movement composition entitled “Of Valence” for a twelve-piece ensemble made up of three saxophones, violin, viola, two cellos, tuba, percussion, piano and two bassoons. The piece, inspired by Milford Graves and his integration of the human heartbeat as a source of rhythmic understanding, is a meditation on human transience based on his observations of the exodus of people from New York City during the Covid pandemic. The performance incorporated an array of multimedia components including video, projections of paintings and photographs, electronics and recordings. Each performances was split in to two sets providing varying takes on the composition, the first set titled “One” and the second titled “The Other One.” This release, Threadgill’s eleventh for the Pi Recordings label, captures the second set of one of the performances in scintillating fidelity. 

The three-movement piece begins with spare, stabbing notes and rumbling open chords on piano, intently traversing the foundational angular motifs. The reeds join in setting up the entrance of the full ensemble. Threadgill maximizes the sonic breadth provided by the full range of strings and a broadened reed section. His conducting is supported by tubist Jose Davila, cellist Christopher Hoffman, pianist David Virelles and drummer Craig Weinrib, all veterans of the leader’s groups who collectively help helm the ensemble through the intricately evolving piece. Themes are introduced, fragmented, inverted, and hocketed as sections elastically play off of each other and branch off into sub-groupings as the densities of the piece ebb and flow. Threadgill’s proclivity for utilizing underlying galvanic pulse is an anchoring element, buoyed in particular by tuba, cellos and drums as the music bobs and weaves along with the countervailing, keening melodic threads. 

Threadgill’s pieces demand exacting execution, and the group fully embraces the compositional form while each displaying adroit capabilities exploring the inherent opportunities for improvisation. While Threadgill sticks to conducting here, the influence of his instrumental voice is readily apparent throughout. Milford Graves’ influence is heard most overtly at the start of the second movement where violinist Sarah Caswell, violist Stephanie Griffin and cellist Mariel Roberts each play their parts while listening to a playback of their own heartbeats as recorded previously by a cardiologist. The result is that the pulse of each individual players’ lines intertwine, mutably moving in and out of synch while maintaining an unwavering, galvanizing flow. One third of the way through the 16-minute section, lissome sax lines are introduced segueing to the entrance of the full ensemble. While density builds, there is a transparency to the orchestration as lines and instruments come to the fore and then recede. Midway through, sizzling transducer-activated cymbals play off of abraded cello overtones setting the stage for a freely lyrical tenor solo which wends to a closing section with percolating pizzicato strings and pattering percussion.

 The final movement kicks off with a short interlude for strings and drums, leading in to a section of abstracted melody, with alto and bassoon lines snaking around the ensemble voicings. Interludes for solos are woven through as the pacing constantly morphs. Here, sections are clear successors to the approaches that Threadgill worked through with Zooid and Double Up, inheriting the underlying coursing flow and arcing lyricism but shading and extending it with timbral orchestration, the bassoons being a particularly astute addition. In the final section, intertwined piano and tuba and the shifting shuffle of cellos and drums set the stage for an all-in re-statement of one of the central themes, leading to the finale of the piece for the full ensemble, crescendoing to dramatic intensity. Listeners have benefited from Pi Recordings’ dedication to Threadgill’s evolving and burgeoning oeuvre. The release of The Other One is a significant addition to these efforts and essential listening for those interested in Threadgill’s music. 

Michael Rosenstein

[mz-elysium]

[photo ID: starry deep space, a glowing white title and mysterious emblem, Architects of Destiny]

Guardians make their own fate.

[AO3 LINK]

After the mythological Golden Age came the Collapse. Humanity has all but fallen and the silent dead god known only as the Traveler hangs in the sky. The Last City is protected by Guardians, supersoldiers powered by the Traveler’s Light and risen from the dead — and the last defense of the Sol System against invaders.

The Darkness does not come as an invading army,  though. It comes wearing familiar faces. It promises majesty. It claims to be correct. One Guardian clan finds themselves facing alien gods of flesh and machine, and the Darkness itself before it can bring about a second Collapse.

Origin: Destiny 1 and 2 (mostly canon compliant; video games need some stern words to become narratives; also fandom-blind)

Genre: scifi fantasy, hopepunk, post-apocalyptic, superhero

Includes: sprawling ensemble class, prattling philosophy on human nature, baby aliens, tragedy, love as a superpower, death isn’t the worst thing that can happen, betrayal, corruption and downfall.

○○○

The Architect Clan

[photo ID: a soldier with a rifle fading away into electric blue haze; titled with the name Leo]

Titan // Exo // arc, void, (solar)

I am the soldier in the war-that-never-ends.

A Titan who has trusted in the Traveler to bring them salvation, one day. For three hundred years, he watched a village grow into the Last City. Refugees rediscovered civilization. And, other Guardians became their heroes. He patrolled the walls. Just another faceless brick in them.

Now, he is thrust into the limelight as a hero, his name sung along with the likes of Saint-14, Lord Saladin, Commander Zavala. The weight is more than he can bear.

[photo ID: a cloaked wanderer in a desert with a glowing helmet; titled with the name Q]

Hunter // human // solar, void

Come home.

No one ever damn well asked Q if he wanted to be risen from the dead. He liked being dead. Who wants to be a soldier? Who wants to spend their second life in the mud and blood? He couldn’t give a shit about the hungry masses. They could rot. He would jump into his ship and fly as far as he could. Explore. Map unknown worlds. He had been chosen for a reason. He must’ve been important in another life and damn it, he would find out.

Oh. But why does his clan insist on the most dangerous strike operations? Why must they all be so eager to jump into the pit? Someone needs to ensure they come home.

[photo ID: a woman silhouetted against a stained glass purple supernova; titled with the name Cerys]

Warlock // Awoken // void

Mercy gives teeth to the evil and the weak-hearted.

A thrillseeker and Crucible champion, she was always out of place among the Warlocks. She joined the Praxic Order and their inquisitions out of a dim sense of duty. Without a scholarly pursuit, she figured she should do something. As the threat of Dark-corrupted Guardians grows — and finds a home in her mirror — she comes into a crisis of faith. Rises above it as a devout Praxic. She returns to her training and inquisitions with new conviction.

War cannot be won by the moral bankruptcy that began it.

[photo ID: a man in an ash-storm clutching a fireball streaking like a comet; titled with the name Ember]

Sunbreaker // Human // solar and more solar

The Traveler made Lightbearers. We made Guardians.

The Sunbreaker Clan was myth. Rogue Lightbearers who left the Last City in exodus over heated disagreements on religion and philosophy. Centuries later, their legend is of barbarian mercenaries of the forbidden Titan solar paradigm.

Ember was never the best of them — the strongest, the smartest, the kindest — but he is the last. Brutal and sarcastic, his mean streak earns him few friends. Grudgingly, he returns to the Last City, where he is an exile among strangers.

○○○

Completed Works

[photo ID: an alien warrior in a helmet with a spindly sigil and six glowing eyes; titled as House of Wolves]

Q rises from the dead and challenges the callous doctrine of war, even as his fireteam try to impart their ways. [35k words]

[photo ID: an endless pocket dimension of a flower field; titled as Black Garden]

The mythical Black Garden is open and its Dark heart whispers to the Last City. [13k words]

[photo ID: a macabre alien city with honeycombed windows and pods, almost like an insect colony; titled as The Taken King]

The Hive God-King comes in vengeance for his killed son, bringing a new dimension to the horrors of the Guardians’ war. [61k words]

[photo ID: a robed figure overlooks a series of snowy firepits and stately old flags; titled as Rise of Iron]

Leo’s obedience lands him under the eyes of the last Iron Lord, who asks for help avenging his sacred extinct order. [22k words]

○○○

Art credits: Unsplash for title and characters; Destiny concept/advertising art as made by Bungie/Activsion for work titles.

[nameofallteams]

399 Names for Bible Study Groups (Youth And Adults)

A well-chosen name for a 399 Names for Bible Study Groups can play a pivotal role in fostering a sense of community, purpose, and identity among its members. Whether you are part of a youth group, adult group, or a mixed-age congregation, a thoughtful name reflects the group's mission, values, and spiritual journey. Here is a comprehensive list of 399 names designed for Bible study groups, categorized to suit various themes and preferences. These names aim to inspire, unite, and reflect the essence of your group’s faith and fellowship.

399 Names for Bible Study Groups (Youth And Adults)

Inspirational Bible Study Group Names These names are crafted to inspire and uplift, resonating with the group’s commitment to spiritual growth and learning. - Faithful Foundations - The Believers’ Band - Grace Gatherers - Hopeful Hearts - The Guiding Light Group - The Spirit Seekers - Covenant Companions - The Purposeful Pathfinders - Eternal Endeavors - The Wisdom Warriors - Devotion Dreamers - The Redemption Roadsters - The Graceful Growth Group - Celestial Seekers - The Faithful Followers - Divine Disciples - The Prayerful Pathfinders - The Eternal Explorers - Heavenly Horizons - The Spirit Sisters/Brothers

Names for Youth Bible Study Groups

Youth groups often benefit from names that are both engaging and reflective of their vibrant energy and commitment. - Teen Truth Seekers - Youthful Yoke - The Gospel Generation - The Faith Frontier - Young Disciples of Christ - The Bible Builders - Purposeful Youths - Dynamic Disciples - The Youthful Witnesses - Scripture Stars - The Joyful Journeyers - Faith-Fueled Teens - The Spiritual Squad - The Hope Heroes - The Gospel Gamers - The Pathway Pioneers - The Revelation Rebels - Eternal Explorers - Teenage Testimonies - The Victory Voyagers

Names for Adult Bible Study Groups

Adult Bible study groups may appreciate names that convey depth, maturity, and commitment to spiritual growth. - The Devoted Disciples - Seasoned Saints - Wisdom Watchers - The Insightful Seekers - Faithful Foundations - The Mature Believers - The Eternal Elders - Graceful Gatherers - The Reflection Circle - The Devout Discussers - The Spiritual Scholars - The Covenant Crew - Purposeful Pathfinders - The Praying Partners - The Insightful Igniters - Scripture Study Society - The Sacred Seekers - The Enlightened Assembly - Eternal Pathways - The Spirit-led Circle

Names Reflecting Biblical Themes

These names reflect various themes and stories from the Bible, offering a deeper connection to scripture. - The Exodus Ensemble - The Genesis Group - The Proverbs Pathfinders - The Revelation Readers - The Gospel Gatherers - The Apostles’ Alliance - The Covenant Circle - The Psalms Scholars - The Beatitude Believers - The Messiah’s Followers - The Epistle Explorers - The Kingdom Keepers - The Grace Gardeners - The Parable Pioneers - The Epistle Enclave - The Psalmists - The Nazarene Navigators - The Disciples’ Den - The Sanctuary Seekers - The Prophetic Pathfinders

Names Highlighting Fellowship and Community

These names emphasize the importance of fellowship and communal support within the Bible study group. - Fellowship of Faith - The Community of Christ - United in Grace - The Believers’ Circle - The Spirit-filled Fellowship - Hearts United - The Faithful Friends - The Graceful Gatherings - The Supportive Saints - The Unity of Believers - The Community Covenant - The Encouragement Ensemble - The Fellowship Friends - The Caring Circle - The Bonded Believers - The Prayerful Partners - The Heartfelt Assembly - The Graceful Alliance - The Soulful Supporters - The Unity Circle

Names Emphasizing Growth and Learning

For groups focused on spiritual growth and learning, these names reflect their journey and aspirations. - Growth in Grace - Learning with the Lord - The Spiritual Scholars - The Wisdom Warriors - The Knowledge Keepers - The Enlightened Path - Faith and Learning - The Growth Group - The Disciples’ Development - The Insightful Seekers - The Learning Leaders - The Scripture Scholars - The Faithful Learners - The Wisdom Workshop - The Spiritual Study Group - The Growth Gurus - The Knowledge Navigators - The Learning Lighthouse - The Divine Discoverers - The Faithful Pursuers

Names with a Focus on Prayer and Meditation

For groups that emphasize prayer and meditation, these names offer a sense of devotion and tranquility. - The Prayer Partners - The Meditation Mates - The Spiritual Meditators - The Prayerful Path - The Devotion Circle - The Reflection Room - The Soulful Seekers - The Sacred Space - The Contemplative Circle - The Prayerful Peacemakers - The Devotion Den - The Meditation Masters - The Intercession Group - The Peaceful Prayer - The Contemplation Crew - The Prayerful Gathering - The Sacred Seekers - The Reflective Refuge - The Meditation Mission - The Prayer Pathways

Creative and Fun Bible Study Group Names

These names add a touch of creativity and fun to your Bible study experience, making meetings more engaging and enjoyable. - Holy Rollers - Bible Buffs - Scripture Squad - Faith Factory - The Divine Detectives - Gospel Gurus - The Faith Faction - Soul Searchers - Bible Buddies - Scripture Sleuths - The Divine Dreamers - Holy Heroes - Faithful Friends - The Gospel Gang - The Bible Bunch - The Grace Group - Faithful Fellows - The Prayer Party - Scripture Superstars - The Faithful Few

Names Reflecting Service and Mission

For groups focused on service and mission work, these names emphasize their commitment to helping others and making a difference. - Mission Makers - Service Seekers - The Outreach Team - The Helping Hands - Faith in Action - The Missionaries - The Service Squad - The Compassion Crew - The Outreach Oasis - The Serving Saints - The Charity Champions - The Love Leaders - The Benevolence Brigade - The Missionful Members - The Outreach Advocates - The Helping Hearts - The Service Circle - The Compassionate Collective - The Love Link - The Serving Society

Names Based on Biblical Figures

These names draw inspiration from notable figures in the Bible, providing a link to scriptural history and inspiration. - Paul’s Partners - Peter’s Pathfinders - Moses’ Mission - David’s Disciples - Esther’s Emissaries - The Joshua Journeyers - Solomon’s Scholars - Ruth’s Reflections - Abraham’s Allies - Deborah’s Disciples - The Elijah Ensemble - The Jonah Journeys - The Samuel Seekers - The Mary Magdalene Group - The Nehemiah Navigators - The Elijah Explorers - The Esther Ensemble - The John’s Journey - The Isaac Instructors Names Inspired by Biblical Figures  - The Deborah Disciples - The Daniel’s Dreamers - The Naomi Navigators - Elijah’s Eagles - The Gideon’s Guardians - The Abigail Alliance - The Isaiah Interpreters - The Solomon Scholars - The Matthew’s Mentors - The Paul’s Pilgrims - The Barnabas Band - The Lydia’s Leaders - The Philip’s Pathfinders - The Jacob’s Journeyers - The Sarah’s Seekers - The Jonathan’s Journeys - The Rebekah’s Reflections - The James’s Journeys - The Thomas’s Trailblazers - The Simeon’s Scholars - The Zechariah’s Zealots Names Emphasizing Unity and Harmony These names reflect the unity and harmony that Bible study groups strive for in their fellowship and worship. - United in Christ - Harmony in Faith - The Spirit United - One Accord Assembly - The Bonded Believers - Unity in Prayer - The Harmonious Hearts - Faithful Fusion - The Unified Saints - The Christ-centered Crew - The Faith Fusion - Harmony of Hearts - The Unity Collective - The Fellowship of Faith - The United Spirit - The Concord Circle - One Spirit Society - The Unified Witnesses - The Believers’ Unity - The Synergistic Saints Names Reflecting Spiritual Strength and Resilience These names highlight the strength and resilience of the group in their spiritual journey. - The Resilient Faith - Strength in Scripture - The Courageous Christians - The Unshakable Believers - The Mighty Messengers - The Enduring Disciples - The Brave Believers - The Strong Spirit - The Steadfast Saints - The Resolute Refuge - The Enduring Faithful - The Bold Believers - The Strengthened Saints - The Defiant Disciples - The Stalwart Seekers - The Persistent Pathfinders - The Tenacious Testimonies - The Faithful Fortitude - The Resolute Reflections - The Stronghold Study Group Names Focusing on Community and Support These names emphasize the supportive and communal aspect of Bible study groups. - The Supportive Saints - The Compassionate Circle - The Caring Crew - The Encouraging Ensemble - The Nurturing Network - The Community of Care - The Supportive Scholars - The Benevolent Believers - The Uplifting Unity - The Compassionate Congregation - The Guiding Group - The Loving Learners - The Support Squad - The Heartfelt Helpers - The Fellowship of Support - The Assisting Assembly - The Care Circle - The Supportive Society - The Nurturing Network - The Encouragement Ensemble Names Reflecting Study and Reflection These names are designed for groups that focus on in-depth study and reflection on biblical teachings. - The Reflective Readers - The Insightful Inquirers - The Study Seekers - The Contemplative Crew - The Analytical Assembly - The Scriptural Study Group - The Reflective Readers - The Bible Investigators - The Thoughtful Theologians - The Insightful Investigators - The Reflective Research Group - The Scriptural Scholars - The Study Society - The Contemplative Circle - The Bible Explorers - The Learning Lighthouse - The Insightful Inquisitors - The Study Squad - The Reflection Room - The Thoughtful Theologians Names with a Focus on Faith and Hope These names emphasize the core values of faith and hope that guide the group's spiritual journey. - Faith and Hope Alliance - The Hopeful Hearts - The Faithful Foundations - The Hope Seekers - The Belief Brigade - The Faith-Focused Friends - The Hopeful Heroes - The Faithful Followers - The Inspired Believers - The Trusting Tribe - The Hopeful Harmony - The Believers' Beacon - The Faithful Friends - The Hopeful Haven - The Assurance Assembly - The Faithful Journeyers - The Trustful Testimonies - The Hopeful Haven - The Faithful Fellowship - The Believing Band Names Celebrating Biblical Values These names highlight important biblical values that guide the group’s study and fellowship. - The Virtue Vanguard - The Love Leaders - The Kindness Keepers - The Forgiveness Focus - The Patience Pathfinders - The Humility Heroes - The Charity Champions - The Truthful Tribe - The Peaceful Pioneers - The Integrity Innovators - The Justice Journeys - The Generosity Group - The Compassionate Circle - The Honesty Helpers - The Righteous Roadsters - The Graceful Gatherers - The Faithful Friends - The Hopeful Hearts - The Loving Learners - The Merciful Members Names with a Focus on Spiritual Journey For groups that are dedicated to exploring and advancing their spiritual journeys. - Journey in Faith - The Spiritual Travelers - The Path of Grace - The Pilgrim’s Path - The Divine Journeyers - The Faith Expedition - The Pilgrimage Partners - The Journey of Joy - The Quest for Christ - The Eternal Explorers - The Pathway Pilgrims - The Faithful Voyagers - The Divine Pathfinders - The Spiritual Sojourners - The Christ Journey - The Faithful Footsteps - The Divine Detectives - The Eternal Expedition - The Sacred Sojourners - The Faith Trailblazers Names Highlighting Fellowship and Engagement These names emphasize the active and engaging aspects of the group’s fellowship. - Active in Faith - The Engaged Ensemble - The Fellowship Forum - The Vibrant Visionaries - The Engaging Explorers - The Faithful Fellowship - The Interactive Inquirers - The Dynamic Disciples - The Engaged Elites - The Vibrant Visionaries - The Active Assembly - The Engaged Enthusiasts - The Fellowship Force - The Interactive Inquirers - The Dynamic Den - The Engaging Evangelists - The Faithful Friends - The Vibrant Village - The Engaging Ensemble - The Fellowship Fanatics Names with a Global Perspective For groups that embrace a global perspective and aim to connect with the wider world. - Global Grace Group - Worldwide Witnesses - The Global Gatherers - International Inspirators - The Global Disciples - The Universal Believers - The Worldly Witnesses - The Global Gospel Group - The International Intercessors - The Global Grace Gatherers - The Worldwide Worshipers - The Universal Unity - The Global Growth Group - The International Inquirers - The Worldwide Wisdom - The Global Gospel Gatherers - The Universal Visionaries - The Global Faith Force - The International Insight

Conclusion

Selecting a meaningful name for your Bible study group can greatly enhance the group's sense of unity, purpose, and commitment to spiritual growth. Whether you are a youth group, an adult study circle, or a mixed-age fellowship, these 399 names provide a broad spectrum of options to capture the essence of your group’s mission and spirit. A thoughtfully chosen name not only sets the tone for your gatherings but also reflects the shared values and goals of the members. Choose a name that resonates with your group’s vision and inspires continued growth and fellowship. Read the full article

[mysteriis-moon666]

CATEGORY 7 - Category 7

Category 7 n’est pas un projet parallèle mais un groupe de heavy metal mélodique avec des anciens membres d’Anthrax, Armored Saint, Adrenaline Mob, Machine Head, Overkill, Exodus et Shadows Fall. Couillu le truc !

Le guitariste et auteur-compositeur principal Mike Orlando (ex-Adrenaline Mob, Sonic Universe, Noturnall) a posé des riffs contagieux, avec une double lame de guitare avec le guitariste Phil Demmel (ex-Machine Head, Vio-Lence, Kerry King). Mike l’affirme "Il s'agit avant tout de gros couplets et de grandes chansons, et il contient de nombreux éléments que nous avons explorés dans nos autres groupes"

Pour l’ossature ryhtmique Jason Bittner a apporté le genre de compétences techniques en matière de batterie qu'il a démontrées dans Shadows Fall et Overkill, mais il est allé au-delà des attentes, injectant une sensation de tonnerre et de tonnerre dans les chansons variées. Orlando a annoncé : "C'est le batteur idéal pour ce groupe car il dégage ce feu et cette passion que j'aime parce que c'est la seule façon dont je joue de la guitare."

Demmel. « Toutes ces parties différentes et ces tempos fous sonnaient un peu comme Racer-X-meets-Pantera. Mais nous avons aimé et pris du plaisir à le faire, donc c’était un bon début. »

Jack Gibson (bassiste d'Exodus) "Quand j'ai entendu leur musique pour la première fois, j'ai vraiment aimé qu'elle soit lourde et mélodique, ce qui est très différent de ce que je joue avec Exodus, qui est très rythmique et chromatique."

Dans cette haute volée riffique de heavy thrash mélo les refrains montent dans un feu de bengale, les solos sont propulsifs et la ryhtmique percutante, c’est une fusion cohérente de NWOBHM et de thrash.

John Bush (Armoraint Saint et ex-Anthrax) au chant distille un punch tenace, robuste et cicatriciel d’émotions.

John Bush : « J’ai écouté la musique qu’ils m’ont envoyée et je me suis dit : « Wow, c’est un truc assez cinglant », se souvient Bush. « C’est génial, mais la question était : que pourrais-je en faire vocalement pour que cela convienne ? Comme Jason l’a dit, « ces gars sont des maniaques des riffs ». Je n’étais donc pas tout de suite sûr d’être le bon gars pour ça. Mais j’ai commencé à bidouiller et à écrire, et, à ma grande satisfaction, tout s’est passé relativement facilement. »

Orlando a travaillé séparément puis ensemble, assemblant des riffs et des rythmes dynamiques qui ont atteint leur apogée en complexité et en lourdeur pendant les intros, les sections médianes et les outros, et se sont installés dans une poche plus clairsemée et plus mélodique pour les couplets et les refrains. « Il y avait un effort conscient pour donner un peu d’espace aux couplets et pour laisser John créer ses mélodies vocales pour eux et les refrains », dit Demmel.

Orlando : « Quand John Bush est entré en scène, je savais pour qui j'écrivais et cela m'a énormément aidé », dit-il. « Je n'écrivais pas juste pour le plaisir d'écrire ; j'écrivais des parties spécialement pour que John Bush les chante. C'était génial pour moi non seulement parce que cela me donnait un objectif à atteindre, mais aussi parce que, en tant que fan du chant de John Bush depuis des décennies dans Armored Saint et Anthrax, c'était excitant de savoir qu'il allait être sur ces chansons. »

Bush a écrit ses paroles sur le désespoir qui imprègne la société et la division destructrice qui a évolué et séparé les gens pendant des décennies mais qui est aujourd'hui pire que jamais. Plus que tout, Bush voulait que des chansons comme « White Flags & Bayonets », « In Stitches » et « Land I Used to Love » inspirent la réflexion tout en étant ouvertes à l’interprétation. « Je dis simplement que c'est un commentaire social, mec », dit Bush. « Il y a une multitude d'informations parmi lesquelles choisir et tout est là. Évidemment, chaque jour, vous pouviez vous réveiller et consulter l'actualité, avoir des conversations avec des gens et des amis et ressentir en grande partie la même chose que moi lorsque j'écrivais ces chansons. Alors, j'ai juste couru avec ça. Mais il y a une certaine ambiguïté dans certaines paroles parce que je ne veux pas expliquer exactement de quoi parlent ces chansons car elles pourraient parler de beaucoup de choses. Et je veux que les gens utilisent leur imagination. Je veux aborder tous ces sujets et scénarios particuliers qui semblent très actuels sans dire aux gens ce qu’ils doivent penser. »

[mainstoryarchive]

Ensemble - 119: Stage

Subaru: Oh, everyone's really fired up!

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium (LIVE)

Subaru: Oh, everyone's really fired up!

It's super full of audience, how exciting ☆

Mao: Hey, now isn't the time to be fooling around.

Please let us through, we're Trickstar! We'll be performing, so please make some way!

Makoto: Wow, the road to the stage opened up in one go! It's like exodus! The applause is explosive, I'm getting nervous!

Mao: Ahaha, you can't compare it to the finals, but I don't think it's that bad to get used to it for them.

It's our duty to amplify these cheers and applause more than tenfold ♪

Let's go at it with all we've got! Let's see, our opponent is… Hm?

Nazuna: You guys are late! Who do you think you are, almost coming late to the semi-finals!?

Subaru: Ah, Nazuna! You're cute today too ♪

Nazuna: Don't drop the honorifics! I'm your upperclassman! Rather, don't call me cute!

Makoto: Hm? Nito-senpai! Are you our opponent for the semi-finals…?

Nazuna: Yup ☆ You guys better prepare yourselves! We're in it to wyin yit ♪

Makoto: Ahaha, I see you're still tripping over your words as always…

Subaru: Hm? Ukki, you know Nazuna?

Makoto: That's my line. Nito-senpai is our broadcasting committee's president. So you also know him, Akehoshi? What a curious turn of fate ♪

Nito-senpai, let's have a nice match!

Nazuna: Hm ♪ You're very well-mannered, so you're fine. There's nothing wrong with you, so lift your head!

However, as the broadcasting committee's president, I'll give you a warning. Mako-chin, aren't you too relaxed?

You had to come in rushing like this because you couldn't get a hold on the information that the semi-finals were also going to be in the auditorium fast enough, right?

I properly arrived here earlier than anyone else ♪

Makoto: Ahaha, it hurts to hear that. That stance is really admirable, I also have to work harder!

Subaru: Uhm, is the broadcasting committee some kind of intelligence organization?

Hmm, Nazuna's unit being our opponent means…?

Hajime: Akehoshi-senpai!

We've been waiting for you! It got quite close time-wise so you had me worried…♪

Subaru: Shinonon!

I see, I see, so you guys also won through to the semi-finals! How admirable, you've done well ♪ *pat, pat, pat*

Hajime: Ehehe, I heard that you were working hard so I thought I should work hard as well…♪

Subaru: You worked really hard, you did great! I'll carry you on my shoulders, hup-ho ☆

Hajime: Yay! I'm also really happy that you got this pleased ♪

Tomoya: You guys really get along well… Hajime, are you sure you can face off with them like that? We're enemies in the semi-finals, you know?

Mitsuru: Now, now, isn't it fine to have a friendly match once?

That's youth, sweating together under the name of sportsmanship, daze ☆

Tomoya: Don't talk as if you know it all, even though you're just Mitsuru.

Mitsuru: What do you mean 'just Mitsuru'?! The way you talk to me is way too rude, Tomo-chan…☆

Tomoya: Who do you think you are? Well, the fact that you're not nervous for the semi-finals… I'm kind of jealous or, how should I say it, I'm kind of impressed.

Regardless, our senpais from Trickstar should get on with their preparations instead of continuing this meaningless chatter.

It's already really close to the start of the live thanks to the fact that you came this late.

Both us and the audience are already completely warmed up ♪

Mao: Sorry for the trouble.

You're Hokuto's kouhai from his club, right? Have you seen him anywhere?

I haven't seen him even once since the DDD started so I'm kind of worried…

Tomoya: Hm? There's no need to worry, I'm sure Hokuto-senpai is properly thriving somewhere out there!

…I did see him once while we were moving to another stage, but it didn't look like Hokuto-senpai noticed me.

It's the first time I saw him like that. He was looking down, wearing a dark expression…

Just what happened? Why is he suddenly acting independently from Trickstar?

Subaru: That's what we want to ask…

Neither of us have the leisure to worry about others. I'll check how much you guys have grown since then.

Nazuna: Oh, aren't you cheeky, second-year lad?

You have to know that it's not just for show that we, Ra*bits, were able to survive all the way to the semi-finals.

You guys who don't even have all your members here are the ones who don't have a steady footing ♪

Subaru: It's exactly as you say. We'll be challenging you without underestimating you. Let's have a nice match, senpai.

Nazuna: Ye-yeah. You suddenly got all polite… That's hard on you, right? Just stay being cheeky!

Well, let's both do our best so we don't leave any regrets ♪

Subaru: Yeah, let's have a straightforward match…☆

Subaru: (Everyone from Ra*bits is amazing, their faces are all filled with confidence. They're on a different level than before, I can feel their presence.)

(Shinonon has worked really hard since that S1 live when he could only break down in tears…)

(He stood up again and forged a bond with his comrades. He grew more confident and polished his skills, all to be able to stand on this long awaited stage.)

(I really, truly can't let my guard down.)

(However, we also have a reason why we can't lose. And more than anything else, I'm happy to be able to fight against Shinonon and the others ☆)

(I wonder if the president feels the same.)

(We run on the frontlines with our kouhais chasing our backs; if that's really the case, then that's a pretty happy thing ♪)

(At the very least, I'm havin' great fun!)

(We'll test our skills by having a fair match with them. And, we'll absolutely win!)

(To the finals where the president and… Hokuto is surely waiting!)

(Alright, let's do this ☆ Let's rush in a straight line all the way to the finals!)

[ ☆ ]

← prev ❖ all ❖ next →

[veditudine]

Political Maps, Our Article about Ensemble by Julie Mehretu

At Palazzo Grassi, open until January 6, 2025, the exhibition Ensemble by Julie Mehretu, curated by Caroline Bourgeois, has been inaugurated. Although it is a gigantic exhibition dedicated to Mehretu, Ensemble also features the presence of other artists (Nairy Baghramian / Huma Bhabha / Tacita Dean / David Hammons / Robin Coste Lewis / Paul Pfeiffer / Jessica Rankin). "Together" as an experience of one's own lived experience, the artist often emphasizes how her work has intersected from the beginning with the collective dimension and the relationship with other authors, but also as a political choice compared to the heroic singularity of the artist narrated by modernity, creating shared studios, relational spaces, works, precisely in dialogue. This approach not only manifests itself in the exhibited works but also in the text accompanying the exhibition and in the chronology of artistic events, which treats the involved artists without distinctions, overlapping the events of the artists, their respective exhibitions, the events that have succeeded them. Community, in this case, is also a destiny as almost all of them have experienced the necessity/choice of relocation from their country of origin, be it Ethiopia, Iran, or Pakistan. A generation of post-decolonization, which has experienced the failure of that modernity. Let's go point by point:

Julie Mehretu, (from left to right), Sun Ship (J.C.), 2018, Pinault Collection, Loop (B. Lozano, Bolsonaro eve), 2019-2020, Pinault Collection.

Installation view, “Julie Mehretu. Ensemble”, 2024, Palazzo Grassi, Venezia. Ph. Marco Cappelletti © Palazzo Grassi, Pinault Collection

We talk about abstract painting. Those who visit the exhibition and are not familiar with Mehretu will benefit from watching the documentary in the first cinema room where her story is told. The description of the complexity of the realization of her graphic work, which we fortunately find in the captions that shy away from the definition of mixed technique (instead citing lithography, aquatint, intaglio, and often all together), with the numerous group that tries and retries together with her the various techniques, the story of her gigantic work of which she illustrates the sources, seeing the superimposition of images from which some of her canvases start, allows us to look with more understanding at her work. A painting that is stratification, not material but of overlapping signs, playing to re-emerge, recalling others, alluding to experiences creating maps that appear in their intertwining, not on the surface nor in the background, in between.

Julie Mehretu, Desire was our breastplate, 2022-2023, Pinault Collection. Installation view, “Julie Mehretu. Ensemble”, 2024, Palazzo Grassi, Venezia. Ph. Marco Cappelletti © Palazzo Grassi, Pinault Collection

2. Political art. That a blotch of red color recalls the path of the Jewish exodus, that the background is a reworking/overlay of profiles of power palaces that are obsessively explored and submerged by traces, signs, brushstrokes investigating the Egyptian revolution, that the superimposition of photos of prisons is the object of a political vision. It's not as simple as we described it. It's not just about picking up symbols here and there and fitting them into the canvas network, otherwise it would simply be a matter of patience and deciphering the many references to solve the puzzle of the map and find the meaning. Mehretu, instead, in the accumulation of signs, documents, and traces of events, layers her own semiotics to tell migrations, dictatorships, inequalities. This accumulation is completed with the hand-painting by the artist, creating a new and self-sufficient space, with an alternative narrative that creates the conditions for a political critique that can be shared.

Julie Mehretu​, TRANSpaintings, 2023-2024, Courtesy of the artist and White Cube. Installation view, “Julie Mehretu. Ensemble”, 2024, Palazzo Grassi, Venezia. Ph. Marco Cappelletti © Palazzo Grassi, Pinault Collection

3. Evolution of perspective. The exhibited works cover 25 years of Mehretu's activity and, despite substantial continuity, clearly suggest stylistic and approach differences of the artist. Simply put, the monochrome that then colors and then picks up again. The idea of abandoning the wall in the series of Transpaintings, realized with sculptural structures supporting them made by the artist Nairy Baghramian. The palaces that exude their history, the images of dramatic events of contemporaneity so modified, superimposed, blurred to disappear, up to the opacity that does not transmit light nor hides a background, mark the mutation of the gaze towards the drama that persists, its reflection that matures, the new emergencies. All this on the traces of the titles of the works which, always from the introductory video we mentioned, we discover to be a part of the work, carefully chosen whether they speak of finance or exploitation

Julie Mehretu, Your hands are like two shovels, digging in me (sphinx), 2021-2022, Courtesy of the artist and White Cube. Installation view, “Julie Mehretu. Ensemble”, 2024, Palazzo Grassi, Venezia. Ph. Marco Cappelletti © Palazzo Grassi, Pinault Collection

[liberty1776]

Exodus is the classic Zionist Propaganda movie. It can be found free on You Tube. Had great musical theme, but story is pure propaganda. Often characterized as the "Zionist epic", the film has been identified by many commentators as having been enormously influential in stimulating Zionism and support for Israel in the United States. While Preminger's film softened the anti-British and anti-Arab sentiment of the novel, the film remains contentious for its depiction of the Arab–Israeli conflict.

Exodus is a 1960 American epic historical drama film about the founding of the State of Israel. Produced and directed by Otto Preminger, the screenplay was adapted by Dalton Trumbo from the 1958 novel of the same name by Leon Uris. The film stars an ensemble cast including Paul Newman, Eva Marie Saint, Ralph Richardson, Peter Lawford, Lee J. Cobb, Sal Mineo, John Derek and George Maharis. The film's soundtrack music was written by Ernest Gold.

Preminger openly hired screenwriter Trumbo, who had been on the Hollywood blacklist for over a decade for being a Communist and forced to work under assumed names. Sparticus Spartacus, also written by Trumbo, Exodus. Back in thoes more enlightened days most people rightly equated being a Communist as being just as evil as being a NAZI.

[win-free-iphone8]

What Do You Think of the New Cast? (POLL)

What Do You Think of the New Cast? (POLL)

What Do You Think of the New Cast? (POLL) #Cast #POLL Welcome to Americanah Blog, here is the new story we have for you today: You Can Click Here To View Restricted Videos/Images in this Article Saturday Night Live‘s entering a new era as the long-running NBC sketch comedy series welcomes several new cast members to its ensemble in the wake of a mass exodus. Ahead of Season 48’s debut, it was…

[arcanewonder]

what tragedies have you witnessed.