torch of fear

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My bookshelf at school ❤️

The night of fears

A certain demon is searching for souls on 31st October, hoping that he can collect 31 by the end of the day. Needless to say, it’s not safe to walk in a graveyard at this time of the year.

Pairing: Park Jimin x Nam Suyeon (OC)

Genre: angst, horror, supernatural

Setting: Barbas!AU (the demon of fear based on the one in Charmed)

Word count: 3731

Warning: major character death, cutting, blood, emotional manipulation

This is my contribution to the Stories no one dares to tell Halloween collab, check out the other works as well. *-*

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3

Happy Birthday to @sabaatahir who taught us that hope is stronger than fear, and that sane plans never work, only the mad ones do. Who taught us that as long as we fight the darkness, we stand in the light, and keeps reminding us that family, freedom, and love are the most things worth fighting for. And who taught us that no person is all dark or light, they are a combination of both. thank you, Sabaa, for being our brightest ember, our brightest torch. We wish you the happiest of birthdays and many more to come 💕💕💕

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d,
And men were gather’d round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twin’d themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer’d not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak’d up,
And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
—  “Darkness”, Lord Byron, July 1816 (The Year Without a Summer)

Random thought from a few weeks ago but I think I somehow didn’t make it clear enough that a group of small willy guys with Tiki torches does not make me fear for my safety because I definitely got borderline patronizing assurances from my white friends that they are “here for me” in the obvious psychological burden I bear during this the “rise of the neo-confederates”. I even had one girl I barely know message me on Facebook like “I just wanted to send you some love in this tough time” and I’m like I appreciate your concern but really… I’m fine.

The Poem David was Probably Thinking Of

David continually references ‘Ozymandias’ by Percy Shelley in ‘Alien:Covenant’, on the face of it the words seem appropriate, “look upon my works ye mighty and despair” certainly conveys his inflated sense of self importance. But surely if David had a true grasp of the meaning, he would understand that ‘Ozymandias’ is intended to be ironic, it is the inscription on a fallen statue in the middle of the desert, no kings, nor empires, nor life to be seen. Perhaps that is David’s limitation, despite how human he evolves to become, he does not understand irony and double meanings. After all, he also idolises T.E Lawrence and fails to realise the man was ultimately undone by his own hubris and arrogance.

We all know that David misattributes ‘Ozymandias’ to Byron, curiously Byron did write a poem in that exact same year, it is simply called ‘Darkness’. Perhaps this was the poem David was attempting to recall, I would argue it is far more fitting, wouldn’t you?

Darkness

Lord Byron 1816

Poem below cut

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In a world of dungeons and dragons. . .

Chapter 1

“You shouldn’t have called him stupid, Dustin!”
“He was asking for it!”
“They’re ALWAYS asking for it!”
“GUYS!” Mike yelled over his shoulder, curbing the impulse to roll his eyes. “Run now, fight later!” He turned his attention back to the never-ending corridor before them, trying to ignore the thundering footsteps of Brenner’s angry cronies close behind them.
“How big is this place, anyway?” Dustin wheezed. “I’m dying here!”
“Who cares? We aren’t going to stick around long enough to find out! Here!” Mike shouted, pointing down the next corridor. They raced through it and ran smack into a dead end, all four boys slamming into the stone wall with a resounding thud.
“Dammit,” Lucas hissed under his breath as he disentangled his bow from the folds of his cloak. “What are we going to do now?”
“They’re coming!” Will jumped to his feet and drew his sword just as twenty of Brenner’s soldiers ran around the corner and into the corridor.
“You know what I said about fighting earlier?” Mike said, drawing his own sword. “I think now might be a good time.”
“Way ahead of you,” Dustin grinned.
And then they were upon them. The clash of swords filled the corridor as the boys and the soldiers were locked in battle. Will, smallest of the group, had the best advantage, darting in and out between soldiers and catching them off guard, knocking them off their feet. Lucas went through arrow after arrow, letting them fly into the crowd, each hitting their mark in the arm of a soldier. Mike and Dustin fought off the largest part of the group, doing their best to drive them back with jabs to the arms and sides.
But try as they might, twenty against four were terrible odds, and the boys were driven further and further down the corridor until they were pressed back up against the wall. Mike could see his reflection in the sword of the soldier sneering in front of him and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
“WAIT!”
His eyes snapped open. The soldiers had stopped and were lowering their swords, turning to watch someone cut through their ranks. Mike looked to Lucas, whose face was mirroring the relief and confusion he felt. He shrugged and shook his head. What had made them stop? Mike craned his neck to look down the corridor, his stomach curdling as he realized why that voice had sounded so familiar.
“Brenner,” Dustin growled through gritted teeth.
A tall, white-haired man cut through the ranks, an all-too-familiar smirk on his face as he came to a halt in front of the boys. Lucas let an arrow fly, but at the last moment, Brenner leaned out of the way and it struck a soldier in the arm instead.
“Dammit,” Lucas hissed as the soldier groaned in pain. Brenner rolled his eyes.
“Forty against four. Was that worth the wasted arrow?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we try again? Don’t move this time.”
Brenner chuckled, his black eyes narrowed.
“Charming, as always. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? Come to steal away my most priceless possession?”
“What is it this time? Some stupid necklace or something?” Mike rolled his eyes. “Whatever it is, we don’t want it.”
“Yeah! We’re on a completely different mission,” Dustin said before Lucas elbowed him hard in the side. “Ow!” he hissed.
Brenner’s lips twitched. “From Mr. Clarke? Ah yes, how IS your fearless leader? Obviously not training you as well as he used to. Running straight into the heart of my labyrinth?” Brenner shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Sloppy.”
Will glared. “You’re the one who chased us in here!”
Brenner waved a gloved hand. “Details are irrelevant. But now I can’t let you leave. You’re all witnesses.”
“To what? You being an idiot?” Lucas snapped.
Brenner smiled and regarded them for a moment, searching their faces in a way that made them all squirm. After a moment, he seemed satisfied and nodded, his lip curling. “Alright. I’ll let you go. After,” he said, holding up a gloved hand. “You’ve seen it.”
“Seen what?” Lucas spat. Mike elbowed him in the side, meeting his eyes with a warning glance.
The smile on Brenner’s face widened, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “My creature, of course. Bring them,” he ordered with a flick of his wrist. Eight soldiers rushed forward and seized the boys, lifting them above the ground by their arms.
“Hey, we can walk!” Dustin snapped, kicking his legs furiously. Brenner chuckled and another flick of his wrist set them back on the ground.
“Now come along,” Brenner called, turning and gliding down the corridor, his cloak brushing across the stones.
“Guys,” Will whispered, barely moving his lips. “We really need to get out of here. This is our chance.”
“You want to run through all these guys?” Lucas muttered back, eyeing the soldiers surrounding them with the same frustration that filled Will’s voice.
“It’s probably just another stupid necklace or something,” Dustin murmured. “Remember last time? We can make a break while he’s drooling over it.” A jab in the back from one of the soldiers sent Dustin and the rest of the boys back into a scowling silence.
“Do… do you think Mr. Clarke’ll come looking for us?” Will whispered, breaking the silence.
Lucas scoffed. “Doubt it. He said this mission could take a couple days. He’ll probably start worrying day after tomorrow.”
“I told you this place didn’t look like a cave,” Dustin muttered.
“Hey, don’t start,” Mike warned, eyes fixed on the back of Brenner’s head. “We’re in enough trouble already! Let’s just get this over with.”
Brenner led them through corridor after winding corridor, making sharp turns that were unpredictable but obviously calculated. Every time he stopped, he watched the crossing, as if waiting for some kind of sign. Then he would take off again, just as quickly as before, making the rest of the group run to catch up, Dustin taking special care to delay so he could “accidentally” tread on his soldiers’ feet. The farther they went, the colder it became, and the farther they went, the worse Mike felt. He could have said something to keep them from even coming near this place. Lucas was right: they were completely on their own here and completely at Brenner’s mercy, if that was even the right word.
Eventually, Brenner came to a halt in front of a black door. With a flourish, he swept aside his cloak and produced a huge ring of black iron keys. He placed one of the keys in the lock and the heavy tumblers clicked ominously. He turned back to the boys, placing the keys back in his pocket with a smug grin.
“We’re here.” He pushed the door open and beckoned them inside. Mike dug his heels into the ground, and noticed his friends doing the same as the soldiers pushed against them.
“I don’t feel good about this,” Dustin mumbled to Lucas.
“When do you feel good about anything?” he snapped back. The soldiers heaved and sent the boys stumbling through the doorway.
Just as they got their balance back, Brenner swirled through the door and slammed it shut, locking it with the iron key. Mike swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness lit by only a few torches, they confirmed his fears that that door was their only way out. And now it was locked. He considered tackling Brenner and wrestling the keys out of his pocket, but one look at his friends’ faces confirmed that they were all thinking the same thing and coming to the same conclusion, since all of them were watching the soldiers that lined the room.
“Dammit,” he hissed.
“Not to worry, my young squires, I intend to keep my promise,” Brenner called from his spot on the other side of the room. “But now. What you came for.” He clapped his hands and suddenly the ceiling began to open, with the clanking and churning sound of hundreds of gears. As the sunlight poured into the room, Brenner came closer and closer to the edge of a gaping pit.
“What the- “ Dustin breathed, his mouth hanging open.
“So that’s it? You brought us here to show us a hole?” Lucas sneered.
Brenner chuckled. “As usual, you fail to see the deeper meaning. Come closer.”
“Come to the edge of a huge hole? You’ve got to be kidding,” Dustin snorted.
Brenner snapped his fingers and the boys were seized by more soldiers.
“Didn’t we do this already?” Mike said, struggling to free himself.
Brenner smiled as a low growl emitted from the pit. It grew into a roar that shook the entire room. Brenner chuckled as he took in the boys’ horrified faces.
“Excellent. It’s awake.”
“WHAT’S AWAKE?” Mike yelled.
“What are you trying to pull?” Lucas shouted angrily, renewing his struggles.
“I said I would let you go. You just didn’t specify where.” With a wave of his hand, the soldiers held the boys over the mouth of the pit.
“YOU BASTARD,” Mike shouted, glaring into Brenner’s smug face.
Suddenly, the wall to Brenner’s right exploded. The room seemed to spin as the soldier holding Mike lost his balance and tipped over backwards. Mike rolled away, kicking the soldier in the stomach and unwittingly pushing him into the pit. His eyes went wide with terror and his mouth opened in a silent scream as he slipped over the edge. Mike’s stomach churned and he got to his feet, coughing in the dusty air.
Lucas came up behind him, free from his own captor, and coughed, “Let’s get out of here!”
“We’ve got to find Dustin and Will first!”
Dustin coughed at Mike’s side. “I’m here! Where’s Will?”
A strangled yell from Brenner turned their attention to the hole where the wall used to be. A girl with a long brown braid was hopping over piles of rubble and stone, making her way towards them. She grabbed their hands and squeezed her eyes shut and before they could say a word, they were gone.

I think lyrically it’s a really vulnerable album. There are a couple of songs that will be a good bridge from Torches to some of the other songs on the new record that are a different feel for us. Torches to me was an about escapism. It was a record that you could put on and it would lift you out of whatever mood you were in and just kind of let go. I think this record is much more about confronting your thoughts and being introspective, and challenging the thing in the room that’s bothering you as opposed to running from it. I think tonally that’s one of the biggest differences between the two records.
—  Mark Foster on Supermodel
" Darkness " by Lord Byron

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,

And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:

And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,

The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d,

And men were gather’d round their blazing homes

To look once more into each other’s face;

Happy were those who dwelt within the eye

Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:

A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;

Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour

They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks

Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.

The brows of men by the despairing light

Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest

Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d;

And others hurried to and fro, and fed

Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up

With mad disquietude on the dull sky,

The pall of a past world; and then again

With curses cast them down upon the dust,

And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,

And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes

Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d

And twin’d themselves among the multitude,

Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.

And War, which for a moment was no more,

Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart

Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;

All earth was but one thought—and that was death

Immediate and inglorious; and the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails—men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;

The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,

Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,

And he was faithful to a corse, and kept

The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,

Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead

Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,

But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand

Which answer’d not with a caress—he died.

The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two

Of an enormous city did survive,

And they were enemies: they met beside

The dying embers of an altar-place

Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things

For an unholy usage; they rak’d up,

And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands

The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath

Blew for a little life, and made a flame

Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld

Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,

Unknowing who he was upon whose brow

Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,

The populous and the powerful was a lump,

Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—

A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.

The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,

And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;

Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,

And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d

They slept on the abyss without a surge—

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,

The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,

And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need

Of aid from them—She was the Universe.

anonymous asked:

Do you think he is justified in feeling like she has jumped ship? I guess he doesn't have to justify how he feels. But from his viewpoint I can see why he would feel that way. Which can only give me a clue at how he will feel about their relationship.

GOOD QUESTION, NONNIE. All I can really say is that he’s so damn cute standing there all mad that Felicity “found it so simple” (this is Oliver’s POV, I just know it) to go to Ray Palmer. He is brooding so hard, he’s about to crack a rib or two. LOL. I love it. 

But no, really, he’s not justified in his anger. I love him, and a lot of people think that I don’t, but fuck them, because I do. But he’s not justified. At all. He let Felicity go. He told her that he couldn’t be with her, and he wasn’t in the position to get the company back in the first place, but he tried, and Felicity tried with him. She tried being in love with him as well, and he torched that with his own fears and sense of protectiveness over a woman who does not want to be protected, doesn’t need to be, not from him, his scars, his complexes, none of it. 

Felicity wasn’t in the position to wait for Oliver to die in the lair, so she moved on. She doesn’t know that he doesn’t want to die down there or feels that he can’t at least fight his way back to the Light after Sara’s death reminded him that there is only darkness, darkness awaits until there’s nothing else.

He let go of his Light, and now he’s upset that another man gets to bask in it, but he is not justified. 

Jealous as hell? Greener than The Grinch? LAWD YES. 

A mother's wrath.

The hem of her skirt was dirtied, torn in places and her feet had feared no better. She had scrambled from the house with no shoes on. The rain and darkness had made the journey she had made almost daily a lot more treacherous. Zena had fallen more times than was normal, even for her. She had tripped on roots, on rubbish discarded on the pavement, she had slipped in puddles and mud, she had banged into the edge of a fence and even been knocked down by a branch when the wind had caught it.

She had bruises and scrapes, scratches and cuts and none of them truly registered as she huddled in the corner of the attic of the old farm house. She had been there for an hour now, too scared to even turn a torch on for fear her parents might come for her and take her home. Her mother would be so mad.

Zena and her mother were often at odds, they were both as stubborn as the other, only Zena’s mother had a wild fury in her as if she was always on edge. Some anger or fear or guilt kept her always seeming so angry at Zena as if there was something that she was upset with Zena for, beyond whatever the argument might be about.

Tonight they had fought because Zena had been reading and not heard her mother call out to her. Her mother accused her of consciously ignoring her and would not believe Zena that it had not been deliberate. Her mother had slapped her first for her disrespectful tongue, at that point Zena had become angry and sworn at her mother, calling her the same kinds of things she would call the cheerleaders at school. Her mother and father had both teamed up on her then to wash out her mouth with soap. Zena had tried to get away from them but they had all but broken her closet door to get her out from where she hid. The soap had been forced into her mouth and then her head had been forced under the water. That had been terrifying enough, but it had not been enough for her mother. Her mother’s hands had wrapped tightly around her throat and held her under the water. Zena had the fear of choking and the fear of drowning. She thrashed around  and got free. Her mother had still be so angry, she had been more violent than any night prior. She had tried to thump Zena, trapping her in the bathroom as she raged.

Zena had been crying and pleading, yelling and screaming. Her father did not intervene again, her mother remained unmoved. Zena had taken the first chance she got to get out of there, she had run, her father had caught her at the gate but Zena had slammed the wooden gate open, the metal latch had gone into her father’s skin. She did not know if it had broken the skin or just bruised him but it had been enough for Zena to get away, for her to run into the night, the rain soaking her almost instantly.

She had considered going to Faolan’s but she couldn’t tell him what had happened. She felt so much shame that it had happened. She had seen how she looked, the marks at her throat. It hurt to swallow. It hurt to cry.

Zena stayed where she was, barely moving beneath the blanket. She was cold and wet, shivering as she sat there with her knees pulled tight against her chest, her head often buried down, eyes pressed to her knees. The harder she pressed her knees into the eye sockets the more she hoped it would stop her seeing anything. Seeing that wild anger in her mother’s eyes. She did not know what she had done to make her mother so angry, so hate filled. How could she cause her mother to try to hurt her like that, to try to kill her it seemed. Why was she so terrible?

It hurt so much more than just her body.

And she would have to go home and hope her mother had calmed down some, who knew what she would do if she was still angry when Zena returned. Zena was scared that one day her mother might cross the line and there would be no going back again. Zena was scared she might die, and what did that make her to be scared of her own mother. There was nothing she could do, that was her home, her parents, and she had to endure whatever punishment they felt she deserved.

Zena just did not know how she earned the punishments she was given. She tried to be good, she tried so hard and yet she was always a disappointment, always in trouble, and nothing she ever did was good enough to make her mother pleased with her.