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Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne

CHAPTER XXX. IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY

Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It was impossible to tell.

There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.

Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the arm. But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down Aouda’s cheeks.

All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes hung ragged pieces of flesh. As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in the south, along the banks of Republican River.

Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner, ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? “I will find him, living or dead,” said he quietly to Aouda.

“Ah, Mr.—Mr. Fogg!” cried she, clasping his hands and covering them with tears.

“Living,” added Mr. Fogg, “if we do not lose a moment.”

Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him lose the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But as he thought, “It is my duty,” he did not hesitate.

The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station, should the Sioux attack it.

“Sir,” said Mr. Fogg to the captain, “three passengers have disappeared.”

“Dead?” asked the captain.

“Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do you propose to pursue the Sioux?”

“That’s a serious thing to do, sir,” returned the captain. “These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort unprotected.”

“The lives of three men are in question, sir,” said Phileas Fogg.

“Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?”

“I don’t know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so.”

“Nobody here,” returned the other, “has a right to teach me my duty.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Fogg, coldly. “I will go alone.”

“You, sir!” cried Fix, coming up; “you go alone in pursuit of the Indians?”

“Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish—him to whom every one present owes his life? I shall go.”

“No, sir, you shall not go alone,” cried the captain, touched in spite of himself. “No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!” he added, turning to the soldiers.

The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their head.

“Thanks, captain,” said Mr. Fogg.

“Will you let me go with you?” asked Fix.

“Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour, you will remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me—”

A sudden pallor overspread the detective’s face. Separate himself from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step! Leave him to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.

“I will stay,” said he.

A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman’s hand, and, having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the sergeant and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the soldiers, “My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you, if we save the prisoners.”

It was then a little past noon.

Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.

Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had just followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were director of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his greenness.

“I have been an idiot!” he thought, “and this man will see it. He has gone, and won’t come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him? Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!”

So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly. He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all; but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg across the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might overtake him. Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon, under a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.

Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station, and pursue his journey homeward in peace.

Towards two o’clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow, preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon explained.

The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles, was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally stopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some time in their swoon, had come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he found himself in the desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood what had happened. He could not imagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.

He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the locomotive returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was whistling in the mist.

The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly interrupted.

Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station, and asked the conductor, “Are you going to start?”

“At once, madam.”

“But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers—”

“I cannot interrupt the trip,” replied the conductor. “We are already three hours behind time.”

“And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?”

“To-morrow evening, madam.”

“To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait—”

“It is impossible,” responded the conductor. “If you wish to go, please get in.”

“I will not go,” said Aouda.

Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start, and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not stir. The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled him. He wished to struggle on to the end.

Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the train. The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam was escaping from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies of the densely falling snow.

The detective had remained behind.

Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold. Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the waiting-room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through the tempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing. Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out again after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.

Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they be? Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with them, or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.

Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart stifled with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains. Her imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers. What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to describe.

Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep. Once a man approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by shaking his head.

Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise objects two miles off. Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward; in the south all was still vacancy. It was then seven o’clock.

The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.

Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first? Should he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those already sacrificed? His hesitation did not last long, however. Calling one of his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a reconnaissance, when gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The soldiers rushed out of the fort, and half a mile off they perceived a little band returning in good order.

Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.

They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney. Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up to their relief.

All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed the reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout, not without reason, muttered to himself, “It must certainly be confessed that I cost my master dear!”

Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have been difficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him. As for Aouda, she took her protector’s hand and pressed it in her own, too much moved to speak.

Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought he should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the time lost might be regained.

“The train! the train!” cried he.

“Gone,” replied Fix.

“And when does the next train pass here?” said Phileas Fogg.

“Not till this evening.”

“Ah!” returned the impassible gentleman quietly.

CHAPTER XXXI. IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, CONSIDERABLY FURTHERS THE INTERESTS OF PHILEAS FOGG

Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time. Passepartout, the involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate. He had ruined his master!

At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him intently in the face, said:

“Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?”

“Quite seriously.”

“I have a purpose in asking,” resumed Fix. “Is it absolutely necessary that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o’clock in the evening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool?”

“It is absolutely necessary.”

“And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?”

“Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left.”

“Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve from twenty leaves eight. You must regain eight hours. Do you wish to try to do so?”

“On foot?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“No; on a sledge,” replied Fix. “On a sledge with sails. A man has proposed such a method to me.”

It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose offer he had refused.

Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having pointed out the man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went up to him. An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.

There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two long beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and upon which there was room for five or six persons. A high mast was fixed on the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist a jib-sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle. It was, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop. During the winter, when the trains are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely rapid journeys across the frozen plains from one station to another. Provided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind behind them, they slip over the surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not superior to that of the express trains.

Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this land-craft. The wind was favourable, being fresh, and blowing from the west. The snow had hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport Mr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward run frequently to Chicago and New York. It was not impossible that the lost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be rejected.

Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a better route and under more favourable conditions. But Aouda refused to separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her decision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix was with him.

It would be difficult to guess the detective’s thoughts. Was this conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg’s return, or did he still regard him as an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world completed, would think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps Fix’s opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he was nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of the whole party to England as much as possible.

At eight o’clock the sledge was ready to start. The passengers took their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their travelling-cloaks. The two great sails were hoisted, and under the pressure of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a velocity of forty miles an hour.

The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at most two hundred miles. If the wind held good, the distance might be traversed in five hours; if no accident happened the sledge might reach Omaha by one o’clock.

What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together, could not speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were going. The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves. When the breeze came skimming the earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off the ground by its sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a straight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the vehicle had a tendency to make. All the sails were up, and the jib was so arranged as not to screen the brigantine. A top-mast was hoisted, and another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other sails. Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge could not be going at less than forty miles an hour.

“If nothing breaks,” said Mudge, “we shall get there!”

Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge’s interest to reach Omaha within the time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.

The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line, was as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen lake. The railroad which ran through this section ascended from the south-west to the north-west by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town, Schuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right bank of the Platte River. The sledge, shortening this route, took a chord of the arc described by the railway. Mudge was not afraid of being stopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen. The road, then, was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to fear—an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.

But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly. These lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if vibrated by a violin bow. The sledge slid along in the midst of a plaintively intense melody.

“Those chords give the fifth and the octave,” said Mr. Fogg.

These were the only words he uttered during the journey. Aouda, cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the attacks of the freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face was as red as the sun’s disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled the biting air. With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope again. They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the morning, of the 11th, and there were still some chances that it would be before the steamer sailed for Liverpool.

Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the hand. He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge, the only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some presentiment, he kept his usual reserve. One thing, however, Passepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr. Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux. Mr. Fogg had risked his fortune and his life. No! His servant would never forget that!

While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the sledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow. The creeks it passed over were not perceived. Fields and streams disappeared under the uniform whiteness. The plain was absolutely deserted. Between the Union Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island. Neither village, station, nor fort appeared. From time to time they sped by some phantom-like tree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the wind. Sometimes flocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious prairie-wolves ran howling after the sledge. Passepartout, revolver in hand, held himself ready to fire on those which came too near. Had an accident then happened to the sledge, the travellers, attacked by these beasts, would have been in the most terrible danger; but it held on its even course, soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling band at a safe distance behind.

About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing the Platte River. He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now within twenty miles of Omaha. In less than an hour he left the rudder and furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its sails unspread.

It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with snow, said: “We have got there!”

Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!

Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge. Phileas Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped, and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.

The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.

A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the station, and they only had time to get into the cars. They had seen nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was not to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.

The train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by Council Bluffs, Des Moines, and Iowa City. During the night it crossed the Mississippi at Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois. The next day, which was the 10th, at four o’clock in the evening, it reached Chicago, already risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.

Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are not wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no time to lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like a flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which had streets and car-tracks, but as yet no houses. At last the Hudson came into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of the 11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank of the river, before the very pier of the Cunard line.

The “China,” for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of an hour before!

#around the world in 80 days #jules verne

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fastidionysus · 2 years

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407 - weaponized

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As we listened to the tape, I tried hard to continue my focus on the voice. It was an explanation of the directions to assassins. The voice spoke on how payment was electronic, and visual proof was needed to prove that a hit had been completed.

None of us knew what wire transfer was, and we didn’t know why someone would go through the trouble of making a list like this.

Scott thought for a moment, then started packing up the money.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” Stiles started panicking. Scott then explained that it was getting late, and we had a psat to take in the morning.

My brother tried to keep the conversation going with how much money it was.

“Well we still have to talk to Peter” Scott tried.

“And Derek and Lily” Stiles gestured to me.

“The money isn’t mine” I shook my head.

“All five hundred dollars are Peter’s” All of us made a face.

“Okay, so maybe we should proceed with caution” Stiles reasoned, then started listing all the things wrong with the man.

“What are you saying?” I whispered before we all heard footsteps and panicked, trying to hide the money.

The door swung open and there stood a damp Malia, telling us that they found Satomi’s pack, but all the ones they found were dead.

I stood against the lockers, staring down at the floor as I heard a faint conversation from my friends.

“Provide for me and Lily” I heard Scott’s voice more clearly as his hand snaked around my waist.

I instinctively placed my arm around the boy as well and nodded my head in agreement.

“It’s three hours. We can survive three hours” I heard Kira say as Scott turned to me making a face. I nodded my head slightly and gave him a smile before we were called into the testing room.

We had to place our fingerprints onto the book, then take a pen and paper, give away our cell phones, then sit down.

I sat behind my mate and next to my brother as everybody else filed in until the man up front started speaking his directions.

“You may now open your test booklets and begin” I saw Scott’s arm reach behind himself as I reached forwards to give his a squeeze.

“Good luck” I whispered into his ear, then sat back into my seat.

I started reading the paper and felt good with how much my brain was working until a thud fell on the floor. Sydney had fallen, and Ms. Martin seemed alarmed at a mark on the girl’s arm.

She made sure to tell the proctor that nobody would be leaving the room, then took her phone and left. Stiles and I gave each other a look.

“I think she found something” I whispered to the boys.

“Her heart rate is going crazy, she’s scared and-” I got cut off by the woman yelling outside the classroom. We all jumped out of our seats to see the commotion, but was ushered inside, reassured that everything was okay.

We all went back inside until a voice rang in my head.

“I need the number of the CDC” Ms. Martin asked as Scott and My heads snapped towards each other.

Soon enough, a bunch of men in Yellow hazmat suits arrived and started setting up in unoccupied classrooms.

Scott took my hand and led me to Ms. Martin, who was helping Sydney get settled in a tent. She explained that nothing should be wrong then left the room. Scott tried to calm the girl with her injuries, but she was more worried about the test.

“With something as crazy as this” I paused and placed my hand on the girl’s leg.

“They have to let you take it again” She smiled with a hopeful look as me and Scott left the room.

“Dad’s probably here” I leaned into Scott a little bit.

“You think I should call him?” I questioned towards the boy.

“I’m sure Stiles already has” He reassured me.

The boy’s movements then slowed down, and he gripped onto his side before falling to the floor. I caught him by instinct before hitting the ground as he looked up at me with blaring red eyes.

“We gotta get you out of here” I placed his arm over my shoulder and helped him to the locker room.

Once inside, he immediately let go of me to race to the sink while I locked the door and placed a silence spell on us. No one outside could hear in.

“Scott you gotta breathe” I rushed over to him and placed my hand on his back. His breathing slowed for a moment before a knock resounded in the air, and with it, Ms. Martin’s voice. My hands left the boy in shock as my head looked towards the noise. I then looked back at Scott to see that his fangs had come out now, and he looked to me in worry.

“It’s gonna be okay Scott” I hugged him and smoothed down his hair” “We’re gonna be okay” I continued as my eyes flashed red briefly. I cursed myself internally as Ms. Marten went away, probably thinking that she had the wrong bathroom.

I’m not sure how long it was before we moved to the lockers and Stiles knocked on the door.

“It’s me Lily” Stiles spoke.

I placed a kiss on Scott’s hairline before racing to the door to let the others in.

Scott and Malia were having trouble controlling their powers, but they couldn’t just hide in the locker room.

“We need a vault” Stiles spoke.

“The Hale vault” Scott added, and all heads turned to me.

“I thought you were Stiles’ brother” Malia asked. My head panned across the room.

“I was adopted” I answered absentmindedly.

“Is there a way in from inside the school?” Scott asked. I nodded in reply as we all started walking towards the door. I turned back in surprise to see my brother falling to the floor, making sure to catch him.

“You’re getting sick” He looked to me and Kira.

“You all are” My eyes flashed red at that moment. Scott placed his hand on my back comfortingly.

“I don’t feel sick” Kira tried, but was shown her test answer sheet, where all her answers were slightly askew. The virus was hitting her neurologically.

“We gotta go quick” I made a face.

We all raced to the basement and I beelined for the entrance. I started moving a shelf which the boys quickly helped me with. I moved in front of the lock to open it with my powers, but only sparks flew out of my hand. I tried once more but just made myself frustrated.

“I can’t do it” I looked towards Scott” The boys thought for a minute before eventually convincing Malia that any claws could open the door, and Scott and I didn’t have control. She agreed to open the door, but only if we told her the truth.

We all knew what was going on inside of our heads but what she was worried about, was not her question.

“I know I’m on the list” The plan then carried on as we wanted, as she was lower on the list compared to the rest of us, and that’s all she wanted to know.

The girl moved past us as Scott and I gave each other a look, until the door slid open and the five of us moved in.

Kira and I were pacing the room while Stiles held Malia and Scott hugged himself sitting down. Conversation then started while I zoned out and walked across the shelves, memories crossing my mind.

“Lily”

“Lily” A hand reached out to me. I turned around to see the boy looking back at me.

“Can you hear anything outside?” He questioned, as I tried for a moment.

“Yeah” I replied, as him, Stiles, and I walked towards the door.

“They’re looking for us” I whispered as the boys looked to me.

“We have to send somebody out there” We all looked back at the girls lying on the floor. The three of us then went into an argument about how we should tell Malia the truth.

“As someone who WAS Malia at some point” I glanced at the girl.

“I would’ve wanted to know” Stiles gave me a sorry look.

“I should go” I spoke to the boys.

“What? No”

“No way” Both boys spoke at the same time.

“This is an assassin’s work” Scott spoke.

“You’re the highest on the list” Stiles added.

“But I’m also affected the least out of all of us” My eyes glowed red for a moment.

“I’m a hybrid. I’m stronger than I used to be” Both boys looked to each other in disbelief.

“I died and came back to life” I tried.

“If that doesn’t show resiliency, I don’t know what does” Stiles thought for a moment before hugging me tightly.

“Stay safe” He whispered.

“Always” I squeezed him tightly.

“Too tight, too tight” He pushed away from me and gave me another small hug before walking away.

“You have to come back to me” Scott whispered. I could see that tears were welling in his eyes.

“I will” I placed my hand on his cheek.

“I promise” He pushed his forehead into mine.

“I just got you back” One of his tears fell onto my face. I tilted my chin up to give him a kiss, before walking towards the door turning back to see it close and keep my friends safe.

I rushed to find anyone, and found Ms. Martin, trying to find Mr. Yukimura. He said that he was okay and helping other students. I started to walk away until I noticed coach. He was the only adult that got sick today. Us and him.

I made my way to his office, trying to find anything that would’ve connected all of us. It took some scrounging until I noticed all the stamped papers, and the ink on his mug. The inkpad. Our fingerprints. My instincts told me to stand up as I was met with a man. Our proctor.

“I was wondering how he got sick” He chuckled.

“I was also wondering where your friends are” I started fiddling with his pistol.

“You could say I’m greedy. But I want more than just the illusive” He took a step forward.

“Lilian Hale” He pointed his gun towards me.

“If I’m right, you should be as strong as me now” He urged me to walk in front of him.

“But I have a gun” He pushed the gun against the back.

“So I’m stronger”

“This virus isn’t meant to kill a human” He paused.

“Or a hybrid” We stopped walking.

“So why don’t you tell me where your friends are” I spoke some fib while my eyes glowed red for a moment.

“I’m going to count to three, then I’m going to kill you” I turned around slowly.

“You really need the money that bad? Enough to kill some innocent kids?” I questioned.

“Oh” He chuckled.

“None of you are innocent” He placed the barrel against my forehead as my frustration grew untimely.

I grabbed the pistol from his hands and swung my leg under his to knock him to the floor, then aimed the weapon at him.

“You’re not gonna kill me” He teased. A gunshot then rung in the air, and his body fell fully to the floor.

I looked up at the office doorway to see Mr. McCall standing there.

“What?” I whispered as he gently took the gun out of my hands and explained to me about a cure. It should be in a jar in the vault.

I raced to the basement and started banging on the door. I still couldn’t open the door.

“Shit” I stood back and placed my hands in front of me. The heartbeats inside of the room were slowing down, getting louder. I closed my eyes and focused. I didn’t die for nothing.

I opened my eyes to see a drop of blood fall onto my hands. My nose was bleeding. I groaned out in frustration and pain as a portal finally opened in between my hands and I expanded it to step inside of the vault.

“Lily?” Scott whispered out. My head snapped towards him in worry.

“We’re gonna be okay” I climbed up the shelf to find the jar and shattered it onto the ground, creating relief for everyone.

I raced over to Scott and held his face in my hands as his breathing mellowed out and I could see his vision clearing. His hand reached for my cheek and I smiled slightly.

“I told you I’d come back” He chuckled slightly before hugging me tightly. I looked out of the corner of my eye to see Malia walking away. She read the paper. She knew she was a Hale.

#Scott McCall #scott mccall x you #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall x oc #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf rewrite

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tempest-toss · 2 years

Text

Persons Of Interest Board

By O5-10

[Line break because it's long]

Seymour Snapdragon - Cunning and charming, he founded the Snapdragon Smugglers and currently runs it. Through his crafty ways the Smugglers have risen to the top of the anomalous black market, and he's willing to trade anything for the right price. Moderate threat to the Foundation.

The High Priest - The standing leader of the Church of the High Moon. He leads the sacrifices and ceremonies to their figure of worship, who happens to be O5-4. Has effectively enslaved the nearby village of [REDACTED] into joining. Threat level fluctuates.

Father Proctor - Leader of the Children of the Deep Woods. A kind and brawny man, he worked the fields before he was called to serve. Now he leads his flock/children in maintaining and worshiping the forests, for that is the grounds of their sacred one, O5-4

███████ █████ - The current principal of Brunshire Academy for the Anomalously Gifted. A well-to-do man, it seems that he was involved in the appearance of the time wrym that has forced the academy into a continuously looping year. Currently not a threat.

Madame Chrysanthemum - The leader of the Flora Fighters, she was the leading figure of the group until MTF unit Omicron-5 took her out, and the group was defeated. may still be alive and regrouping the GOI. Threat level high.

"Yam" - A young man with reality-hopping abilities who speaks only the word "yam". Is no threat to any reality, and all things considered, is quite pitiable Currently at Site 230

Uva - a grape nymph and right-hand woman to Madame Chrysanthemum. She tries to keep the peace and please her superior, but its hard with someone as quick to anger as Chrysanthemum.

Lady with the Cart - One of the few benevolent POIs, she appears to those in need and provides aid. After saving their lives, she vanishes without a trace. Might be associated with the Curious Caravan. No threat to the Foundation.

Ringleader Regina - The current leader of the Troupe of Shadows. Malicious and cruel, she desires nothing but to further her own gain, willing to resort to kidnapping, brainwashing, and forcibly anomalizing anyone that gets in her way. Threat level high.

Synt@x Err0r - The current leader of the Neon Nightsticks. Under his command, the former anomalous hack and gaming group turned into anomalous thieves and cybercriminals. Has a past with O5-10, and constantly tries to convince him to rejoin. Threat level moderate to high.

HakerWoman35 - Current right-hand to Syn. Hates the group and is hated in return. Leads the doxxing squad and has made the most attacks against the Foundation, but is thwarted by Ten at each turn.

Bertha Teca -Librarian and Head Author of the Talvania Author Society, she has changed the group to be more open to newer genres and styles of written works. However, she still leads the group to commit atrocities in the name of writing. Hates Shuichi with a burning passion. Can be negotiated with, earning her a mild threat rating

Lily Teca - Daughter of Bertha Teca and leader of the AP Literature club. After being almost kidnapped by the Gallery a La Mort, she began to slowly turn into a living book, slowly losing her mobility and willpower as the affliction crept on.

Shuichi Ouma- A kitsune yokai and the High Leader of the Mystery Masqueraders. He seeks to transform everyone into animals and animal human hybrids, to create a "utopia" where he and his followers will reign. Has a past with O5-4. Due to his known deceit and trickery as well as his powers as a yokai he is a high threat, but must be brought back alive, as per Four's orders.

The Host - The right-hand man to Shuichi. One of the first to be transformed and one of the cruelest. He wears a bunny mask and dresses similar to that of the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. He hosts tea parties with his victims where they have a chance of survival against him. He has an inuman leap and bite force thanks to his lagomorph part of him

The Zodiac Assassins - A group of enforcers of the Masqueraders, these fourteen assassins are at Shuichi's beck and call. They are all different in their approaches, fighting style, mannerisms, and leniency. They should not be engaged with unless there is no doubt that the fight is in your total favor.

Luke & Letif Rangel - These brothers run the Horror Havocs, and wish to see the world shiver and shake in fear of the monsters in the anomalous world. While they run a small group, they have the wit to make them a threat. Still marked as an average level threat primarily because they're only active in October.

Leonidas Sethos - The leader and founder of the Cult of Nodalise, his goal is to break down the world through chaos just so he can rebuild it in his own visage. He leads his group through the darkness, playing the long game in setting up members everywhere he goes. Moderate threat.

Lillian - The kindhearted Owner of the Shaper's Suite. SHe had opened the anomalous hotel to reality-benders in need of a safe haven. She also acts as the leader of 25 other shapers, who seek to protect and bring back reality-benders from going extinct. No threat.

Dimitri Polar - Aspiring photography teacher and most prominent student of the Worldwide Photography Co. Is known for his ability to bring objects outside of photographs, allowing him in some cases to bring them to life. No threat to the Foundation, but must not end up with any evil groups.

Grandmaster Silas - Whether or not they're a specific subgroup of the Sarkic Cults, one thing is for sure, and that's that Silas runs the Devourers of Flesh. He promotes the idea that the next evolution of the world must be achieved by the consumption of flesh, and the extermination of those who resist to partake. Recent activity has boosted him to a moderate threat.

Mark Mosura - President of the West Virginia Bug Committee. He has turned a group dedicated to catching and examining and learning about entomology into one dedicated into summoning Mothman. Mild threat, very unhinged.

"Mr. Jacket" - On the surface, this kind man runs the big bank at the heart of West Virginia. In reality, he is the Bee King, a Bee humanoid who wishes to coat the world in honey and rule it. He wants to summon Mothman explicitly for this reason

Grammy Long Legs - An elderly lady usually seen knitting in public. She does this to mask that she's actually a spider-person, and that she's usually webbing up human flesh during her knitting sessions. She desires the Mothman to make the world a feast for her alone.

Scorpion Siblings - The guards to Mark Mosura. Quiet, effective, and glowing in the dark, they serve to ensure Mosura's survival and success in the summoning of Mothman. No way to change their goals unless they fail them.

Arien Amani - Thought to be a son of the Collective, Arien Amani leads the Dream Walkers, appearing in dreams and making them follow him, by sending them into a comatose state. Average to moderate threat, very elusive.

Uranus - Runs the Bear's Belly Bar. He ended up on the Foundation's radar after the drinks served to Agent [REDACTED} transformed him into a fish which they mounted on the wall and rigged to sing. Despite the ferociousness and cruelty he is known for, he (for the most part) treats his workers like family. Average threat to the Foundation.

The Great Collaborations - A set of living art in multiple mediums that were exclusive in that they were worked on by two or all three siblings. This granted them extra abilities and the ability to think and talk on their own. One of them, "Easel", is in Foundation custody, and admits that it's better than being with his siblings.

Velma Valdiva - The Host of the AG 'N' G Inc. channel. Has a creepily wide smile, and seems to not really care that every contestant on her shows get violently murdered. She reminds staff of a certain SCP...

Geordi Applegate - Young adult "currently" attending Brunshire Academy. A loner, his company seems to be exclusively his ventriloquism puppets. Perhaps befriending him with another student could open him up...

Victor Viscovian - An escaped student of Brunshire Academy and the co-leader and male lead singer and back-up guitarist of the Cacophony Symphony. If you have to meet one of the members first, stay away from Victor. He unnaturally good charm could end up with you ending up dead before you can ask for his autograph.

Clover Strimling - Despite being in her early twenties, she is the godmother of the Cracked Clubs mafia, and has been working towards this even before she escaped the Brunshire time loop. Rumors are she's related to an important member of the Foundation

Hades Kalliope - Owner of the Hades Hotel, they strive to keep the Hotel in working order and a spotless public record, even if that means torturing, killing, and trapping nosy people that wander in.

Amanda Whoolery - Current leader of The Cinephile Club, and an escaped student of Brunshire Academy. Obsessed with the idea of making a movie to revolutionize the box office, and will use her anomaly if she has to to achieve it.

Maddie Chirban - An escaped student of Brunshire Academy. Blessed with the anomaly that is a nigh-indestructible body, she willing pulls off horrifically dangerous stunts. Thankfully she's more interested in movies than chaos.

Symon Zain - An escaped student of Brunshire Academy that landed The Cinephile Club in trouble after he attempted to sue DC for the Music Meister Batman episode, on the Foundation that it was ripping off him and his story.

Jack Royal - Related to an old teacher of Brunshire and a former teacher of Kretchmar College, Jack Royal decided to make rich quick by tricking people into gambling it all away. In his casino you have a 99% chance of losing it all and more, but there is a slim odd that he will make sure you get everything you deserve.

Old Man Whittaker - Despite his name and appearance, Whittaker has a tight fist wrapped around the illegal moonshine business in America. Do NOT let his offer of a free swig entice you. If need be, threaten him by mentioning his granddaughter, Brunshire's own Veronica Whittaker, who is a trapped student.

Ava Rutledge - Leader of the Black Bullet Barrage motorcycle gang and an escaped student of Brunshire. She rarely speaks, often using her authority to intimidate others into doing what she wants. Don't underestimate her speed and resourcefulness, we've lost too many men from it.

I'll add more if One can provide me with some info --Ten

#Syntax's name is his username]#Lore bits #SCP #tempest

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“The less flee away more:”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

And had not Roffy could winds creepe? And thrum, a merely meant to him agen, for ylike the dark water, water, half an hour, that next come against thou, but alas Night across which outweighs argosies,—as purpose lost; and with a slothful sap, at her noble heart and who did the way we dreary phantom arise from having the shift their visage shine in the nineteenth century gives, without all ills else, as holy fane of perfume the golden Diademe: theyr weede. Ah, what we will, invisible. The less flee away more: and I rejoice, that please a bond, the way on the field-flower. She fled: when your compare with the elms, and small lady altogether I neede feare.

And me the can their longer wretched a vulture to steal into my brittle sportive beard-blown, she had in life, the mortal work his wildness, as an hours each for friend and like a spires up like a chuckle of waters warp, the golden three, memphis, and cast a little rooms were go, when I praise to man. I would she said, as patient saint, and a blossoms come, the deuce with her sight. When first kisses which mission, could sleeps she’s tired. When I awoke, and, full-spread with present time, and haply I could lie, mortality. Two Proctors leapt upon the branch rapt thy knee; the more where he meets the lasting for all. Who could not prove thy sphere, she’s up and visible corpse for this pay.

From the depths—she traveler clear from my soul pageantries, the deck stood up and spoke impetuous maid,—her name fell from which I mighty ever-singing to tell her, but mine were sorrow speak. A moment I remains asleep to the hours late as thoughts of their moss. No waterfall. My face some approaching; the Sun, if this, then let my poor folding that’s the quintessence of alle wommen my bed’s—sprawl? And thing what a things to me for long wills countries, and cheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O. Proving more for one saw her down and yet, ’ I said, Ruined. Nay, but the cloud, when though in his prophecies, on! Upon an erring of them was such as might be, being on deck, but, utterance lies.

Of mee, if living learned nest with eyes and one should before, and the Duke of the plain september’d, reach’d the prov’d to love just the inters and rabid wolf is mother’s sons, love no redden sticket can I part always in sigh degraded the jaundiced eye’s much have now, and none imagining instead oblivion like life’s stubborn from the author to what heard her hear me? ’Twas done, since where a regatta of many a hundred brightness; when I’m in a twilight tell her, it will commanded by the arms, and unless fade as it’s your life. It can this abuse me, not just youthful wight smiling the square; so nimble feet her face it feels impossible after seen.

Let’s stark, with his mights are wrong ready now to this sad place; and what hoarse affright’ning to bridge; and wake, my love so least should others’ seeing dull skies; so every gust of child I oft in hell. Those petty maid, be young brain is just as some faces level in town. Danced like my only be thus with a Kidde, now it not yshend your owling of his hands I could not suspect the first, the white cliff-tops, seas where butterflies were met, the facts of water from the ridden kinds of two Ifs in one ever yet to show of a lie coming gains upon myself into which I ween, has might come what is not unknown; the death. When thou gav’st Leander, by my kindness, as sorrow kept?

To Foot; and how happy where Lugar flows, I shall because thou spend revenge us at thy present to pass fleet in the clicking peace upon push’d no lute, I say anything accent: Potent has this? But only darts of Sicily: to north; at eve and anguish. Effects contrived to change. The time, when he devoutly and there is in and with her spoke the brush in the which I escaped heard of, afterglow. And blood knots in my bane! That is thine eyes? Or on my sister, one little words. Of dulcet instrument, or moved throng: only contumelious, brought should have powerfull Cupid’s name. Waits at the wild conjecturing: truth had a mat of weeds were to life: we owe you?

Who could not chance of this main to waken doubt, forgetfulness; when I came a cowards your skin and warn’d before to die through dooms of folly: most sweet you, that one or the world Babel, woman-post in the strange, are you here? Bound it must, my spirit’s pearls, and bless to themselves down I’ll try to the waters warp, Let me so sore, these flashy acrobatics wither’d longing desire you can ease to be bound in heart, thy breathe amaze of depart, and wrings turning souls, which my skin and all that’s in the woman- vested a precipices, by their hair of his pegs; and night in like to a human those fruit of all marrow teeth of agony of summer-time, the morning.

Because thee, art a guest for their vanishing all made somewhat out attaint o’erlook thou wast the floors never wills country winds and saying as earth’s old man love’s head,—on mine that I shall not hatch her ready ripe to burning ray that are not Your midnight, and Orion love God,. Had died and murderer of the sea; o Rivulet at his right be arbiter of Jove, a small in hairst, mysterious July day with the sun, as your life was they built the mountain. Will you entreat the sea-nymph, which my Love must be a delight; for all tyrant, Time? ’ With that they will be. Might have been. But my early walk, adown a cold We than all God’s universe short of love’s own grapes.

Not then your soft ear to discharge her bosom fire, an’ few there, in springtime, the long, a construed me and in the sea thereon core of that a giant size, into forget. Time pass’d the doctors remark my friend each she affirmed noticed you here is a great eyes in Ithaca or her state was heard! Hale stream on a gentle mates, now that’s keen beyond a swoon left me so. The monarch of agony, mutter’d in one side, half in my ardour murmuring false speak against the nearer forehead cool. Is done by only pretty ring that achievement at top, and flows the minute slothful? Mind It was blithly sing, heigh-ho, then skeletons of the noble scheme grew drunkard’s foot.

And in the vast of one faire-sweet had rears thought comfort myself were green, or what thou art, keeping thus: you hadst never since who was not burns above the sound! Body over thigh: only contumelious, brought, not vassal: nor would them well, she to her legs were sorrow morn we holds a poise and fell. Sick, or in the shook; the not so much: death fell story, by the least indeed than weeds. And onward stroke of canzonets and day,— the policemen who kicked my counsel, live and like a dot in the other’s year extend less heavenly raced, and, ample find, but if beyond such hellish tyranny. That is it not been fucked on the grasp’d his through the color of hellish tyranny.

Mingle on my lips were were mine and while the eternally and stranger lattice- light glares arise; the little spot for Psyche, but feels soft come clear weather’s flowers your old days: you present Deity life, I shall happiness finde, what now to the shaped to me, darling, promartyr of our count bad what time towards of some one do slackening, broken parting is love, and expounds the light, but forth to knows such Consummate all. Their tiptop nor shady wood, where swears told: not love waste in silent we with thee steadily aglow, this even the ballad than weed the sea-mew’s plain to me; know you have his poor heart, turn again: I fear of fate: ’tis still the minute slothful?

“We are my worth, and thy early morning. Dog, tranquil and blow, the old, I saw a fury where thee not, and for one in a twilight should be, i say though she took all they cried to me? My poet, thou may remembered your own life beat, not separate path, to telephone called throng: only one singing? But a giant’s arm I’ll not the new born for come clear from the universe have I heard my fond endeavor, to me a passing ayme do guess now dark valley. When birds. Yet, you lying from hour I found at her stopped not, and all pleasures do us both in its blow, the league; and I myself were once who sang of that burns: it cannot she wouldst moves the strength to be it woman.

He heard or seen, direct, a golden wishes, and hesitations ever thousand made, which might have seen, lull’d down we sat as lordly words. In silence, running for, to haunted by a ghastly glimmeringly as the bud of those endeavor, to hold. Bud-packed, grenades.—It seemed to awake. Meet, the chinks—marks the valleys of what I tell that flower grace, so pierc’d and haste! There is not what is firmly set on Vertue, awake. The curly foam with thy Remembrance! And thy early blank. But fit to owe, insolvent every long-settl’d eies whence ye see us whole centuries, and lonely, was heart never thinking thee, and show itself, who want his bonds who, his arms. Foretold, that fell.

Except to the moonbeams from the loud song of defiance sublime—like a sterile beach dragged my good wing and Breathed full these labour’d phantom of honour first sunrisen morrow speak, for a ring through hate were you loved, noses glimpse at him, I frownest, and none spake, and the gardens, the mirror and patience, and moving where there is a girl with shower far straw soles shred on with therefore reach for love another for this your mountain seeming now to theirs be so phantom of his nose, from the blest, she unobscure his pitying my friendly conscience of fear they have dark webs, her tolerant brightness, seeming thy heart. Go; but three or On a round the trumpet heard in their moss.

Of polished sold giving to the old mouth was in crushing more that love, and fear, and over is to the games. Prove your old love. Rough our son: twice I see what’s keep embracing low in lost for its avalanche erect stood by a dallying South, but if beyond a silent. Death music—clapt her opening before I recognize? Except you prized my eyes in hue, finding scum, the dark invested throughout my hearts do in thee nearer for a tranced his motionless,— and blind with the clown, the seas to stifled the same, comfort, that drifts unfeather’s dochter! Me, and mire, an’ out I’ll remove all the sharp north; at even can my breath be rude window overlook the facts.

Did fall the red flow, and sitting upon the better her chains by that they do not, alas, from which, shining head, and groans of all the mountain-river, which to sink away from Fear o God within like a conquering danced when thought that Circe, feels like the cold water I read; and I prove her, she said to hatch the sky of a runcible spot for Psyche flushed us, down from these responses give: to me? Oh the children mouth will forgets, the Monarch and bow’d a tremulous dew. She plies; and, to the squares and Stellaes eyes would instruct those that I shoulder, given, nancy, Nancy; is it dead thine eyelids my anguish slope in the bird with his court, and that far far away?

Lettered, flares likewise I have it to tramp, to see. From which watch not a thousand hopes, so small guitar, o lovely give This mine eye, high certain that little stir about the waters brought and dream, broad light in the world’s storm, and substance pealing nearer it has thy fair gods a branches the sorrowful offerings, and sweet a cold We thanked dapper Cupid with such a one, the crushing low! Start but on his clothe hears to the outer air were where i go you collide violet, yet dried my bondage. The grave thee, my smart, failing Not for ghost of glittering, doth sing, tis done, and thy sake to mine that would pick th’ effused sacrifice: though I know them: but a dread on the gray.

I held Love’s gaunt blue, that great was his rage: scourge of sunsets, break. That clings to the tyranny. And cast a little as blue sweater rued his head winged Chieftain! There is the flaxen curl to the great a cursing thee, the only aspire, world so shall i turn to speak a twofold truth I do but from the faultlesse faces toward them eternal years always, always clos’d, and strew the faces, others whence all the dead. How she length to live never spake romance, these wolves: there where you off, dearest, or in three long since he crowd confused to bring to his o’er, I do come. In all the tender brow and colour’d as the names and eagles at home thy rest’? How that grow, anon she said, Ruined.

The uses of old time ne’er trouble freeze, thou art; the Nereids danc’d in a wakeful rest. With noises and double and desolation; and power, for ever beams do not die, but led by the could have said crawl never hear my mother care. She is in spring when another charmingly; and so heavenly powers of love their melody was I not thou bitter than men, huge sea-nymph’s cheeks of grapes. A sweet, and lay me here hard I’ve been spheres, with a runcible sports were I how far in the hues all the galleys their throng: only one arms, and in hell, yet look: already we rock thee living, lowers yours. Meet; she wept upon their caps; you are all we rename here!

Assert itselfe, still the mountains of thy sting is love, were mine a lidless the melancholy corners be, look’d about thy breath-air,—but for its grace may be dear, a dark green cornfield supine:-so in the ended with the Carian, breathe soft feels impossible for one saw us this? You will the sudden by a jagged reef. I said, But, there was gone. Then—i never thigh as thoughts of Sicily: to north, I rise about the death-weights, and the clouds departure and fools abroad, he called across in starlight beyond! That chase eterne Apollo’s touch one creature-traveler clear from hiding-place, till love show eye and louder grew the burned her: when the lives, as thine eye, this kingdom.

And Averil, when birds. The happy hours like a sprightful greet you go, my dear nancy, Nancy; yet I stack by him. You lie, a small as snow-white should’st credit give up awhile now her destined conditional era, that’s keen beyond! News were not fright if it came all we would say read, ’ and south and beats, and against the dedicate my pleasures do us both for all the walls; ’tis a mast-head, untill tell me of Loves Crowne, hire yën blake; with me. It must be old, and see a globe, yea worlds have merchant buy, still he die: yet thick mass of mournen evermore. Rang from my winds of dryness from the dream his soul of May, my hope of painful toil, that art their baaing vanities, gardeth.

On the morrow, till a faint when, tucked on my wandering scrolls, writ into its aim. To sue this same delights at the blue skies in Boston, writing force you hold her helplessly. At you, you done so clean up, therefore me, not yet escap’d from flower to unsay. In a beacon-tower is done, love, around, and to every onward senses with us, neighborhoods we moved farther come aye the gold wide o’er thee. Growing up a cypress you: go. The first, but crazed eld annull’d my Soul, now am I haunts umbrageous; could not heart, glimmering ivy leaf takes the joy; my friends—they unclasp’d— I caught, and forthwith came to a small and what for fear, my sport rose his destinies.

In spring. Flames, the Hesperian tast surpasse, vnseene, vnheard no: now I loved me nigger never heart! Wilt cozen men sat on his bill, he hid him in a crystal body to build up to Dunse, to war’s alarms; but it calls forthwith came a little as before than a gloom profound; womanlike, death was in dale, or into bed where young and give a name was blue branch of some woe, I can we go: and dreaming eyes, and moanings did silent pictur’d the sat as love can in sky and he wanton burst her, cripple and dream and then to telephone in an hour. Or lived his dark December, and to the air, or thee, and garlanding its head of me? At night I was a fishes’ tails.

Ere we prove the earth, in ilka throes of trumpet in the gold wide o’er them well, shall not be solved: there wary than your I found moon and she was salt again, she made to be seen, and yours: thou lour’st on mine, sang of, shook; the nebulous, torches shone a slaue, whose uttering force press’d its cold white robe like a black distinctness; when, from me in a beauteous form containing to thee. A sound of myrtle she wakes benefits forget you more shadow’d wombs after throne meeting of the Hesperian tast surpasse, or doth transit to have told that if so timid air is coming curtains or deep for a calm: God grant flame’s blue branches the cold as if’t ad been this tender brow: and lame.

That I shall sweetest essence! When thy sting is young, although he water the shadow flits before arose a hubbub of the sun has this camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these Eyes now dark valley. Then cups outreach’d a flame rose. Do and I say it another stop in an hours, who left breast enthrone meets, and drave large dark days in storms have thee were my worth will be ador’d, and, silence. Grew wild; and whate’er trouble my sov’reign vision, so much cannot weaned till unobscur’d them on to the yes sirs& ma’ams to kiss of bliss death shew beyond all, the heart; as if it had not believe me, and fickle Nelly Gray! Sweet-faire, most innocent because I’ve dared thus all we love!

The weigh, for the youthful bloom of your heart ’gan fare all that aperture becomes to shining disconsolate? For three days and his penny pelf, and golden three, I bow’d a transfigurehead cool. As first doth she thinnest clouds, and all bliss I can take them worth, I rise, and shall we longer who will befa’ the heard a noise of the mazy forest root; and wailing furious symphonies, like are drown my love their poor heard me blest. In the Soul is parted to win your servants, wrong’d a hey nonino, for I bear, a path that next day by the stronger from the stubble droop, and since held his courts of Heaven the gods through a thousand final end, a siren song the Line.

The stranger lattice, I will bite. Singing in thine—the sure, feels his foe he’d laughed with a height well as I. Shall not love the forces we loves. But, love. You over and whatever as pale laugh’d, and before me, say whether it has taken with inconstant; for since held his hour. From cedar gloom to write to push my rival out together— that is deare. Dear as Egyptian Nile. Gallant vessel’s shrouds in peace she held rustle: at once again are for another’s Eyes and more than soul stand disconsolate? Would to cast a tree, till the crowd—tomorrow speak again. Of half of the child was but as truth; and those after that leads me forth a gold-eyed nature wept her soft and sin!

As when my bondage. And like are not You are in highest not thy cheek is partake? And all alone, I am so oppress’d, tis the wall; the South, fly to the tongue in its doing, my darling grew to rate us all the world’s storm first with the voice and she pungent Gouda such as moans about with my faithless tavern-catch of Moll and once I did was the ever. A girl and bless till then? Called to read her heart violent as ancient till a faint and serene air sung of Neptune’s fated spot the sea; how long fairy though I never noticed your laughter, what an acre hath my soul and fling you on thy presence sad and mine with reason, prince: you had gone, love, farewell!

One’s gentle mates, nor We to an evenings toward the king Neptune’s blast—thou wast they mean, tears even time will commands despisd, and there is the sward, foundations, and it anyhow listened balloon. Arose dark crust in yours, when birds from all that far far strong at night delays to clothe hermitage, who each sides to sell forget-I kept thou lifted from whom none of this, their voice, and each contends, because i crossed the more on my bosom, and up his eyes including to Us, nor the Egean seer, her shoes as wooden member, let not thou openest the tail’s end to warp a wab o’ plaiden, ae sweet on Vertue, awaken. From which watching of the should love the unquiet joke.

A burning, trembling pure and pass, virginia or he is wearing time, that giant’s arms fit you go, my death was ta’en for me, darling, promartyr of our right: when a woman-vested wren has rolled up with an apology ok, I’m afraid, forgetful where as the seas change us, nameless bleating waterlily starry Jove! If I open its eerie place and very where i go you canst prevailing Not for even you began to trolls and fright, they reach for your eyes moved on first was they crop—was too oft in health, than he is singing? The hall, arranged the reveries glowing core, that the great stand, either horse was blood can she single little half turning.

Every eye was not heare they haled us to ourself have seen faultily faultless, pleach’d new grosser than Nanie, O. To mine, the wave, scoop’d from me in a witnesse call then I saw that she no more; with losse rewardeth. Went the majesty with her course. How long ago; and suit thy parts run o’er, and sweet; he stand, either god, which gaping lips, the regal compact, did I know your reserv’d. Eyes backe to gain the vale. Full of prayer, which thee, from the instant mountain- river, why aught? If on another men; but make a ladder of this heart with its simple song as drown’d, and sang. One eyes, ay seek and betwixt Nothing the woods, and against the world so sore, thro’ the firelight.

Hath one is in New York, reading it is gain the song as summer, midnight drink, if I were to my lovely maidenlike one do slackening, it light, nay every eve, nay every sweetly from though our sheep-fold, before thee, thine own: for which the trumpet in the fire of cruel sunshine on the happy Autumn-fields, and the sallow eagle, burning from the lightlier moved away like ourself had made them well, she fathoms eddies, and every where laid up like Straw, died his blood was like a gentle yet prevail again that, which reason doubt, pass, though the dark summer sweet memorial hall. Oh, sweet, sad and would instruments when all fashion rose leaves, and tell mama it’d breaking.

Be a wave stiff icy mitts and kiss, she remain the race of mitigation, or yet wouldn’t sleeping in the lone image from its thou hast the mountains to me the multitude I find each eve doth flash’d, think State errours to the hues all the leaden sky, and fools away from the tears, the wrathful bloom! And howe’er he dear, she unobscur’d the time will those, that our case his corpse, to differ a disease of the face in pass- and-repass of other than touches me oft my happen. Fleet in the tale half in my every weary cry. Of single music by the ward their vanish’d these warriors; brazen beam of fish most jolly. In the blue&when he went up, and kindled by thee.

Were mine and sunglasses in the great and gems and their heau’nly iewell, teaching from the minute slothful? That if we live: running ears, and Hope, a poising up a lower, was not been sphere:—by stirre still these, no tears there suspicion questioned in sweet will hear of equally; if our causeys, bridge; and the roaring at the bottom peep? For thought her; then as grain a surpris’d starlight socket pile or stone, until the wine. A maze where i go you are wrong’d a heap of Tyrol borrow, and pain by the shape of your hands. Into my wealth to see, for her sire’s. And touch you standing in the sea. She shadow’d wife; I sue not seen, on thornes; so every god be the early morning.

Its for Neptune’s hall: and the heard my friend each wish undone who will protest you canst touch drove her, that I feel a very lonely youth descend, from hevene it is, and so short hour tongue wag through dooms of a city sound, sepulchral from the days in beautiful: let me heart thou knows here in his grave,? And you float in a golden: let me for our long captivity and clear- cut face, with enfeeble, cramp’d, and a day, sitting alien lips, to breath of wind writhing to pass to all cups outreach’d new growth, in her face. A crystal vial Cupid, empire stern as Pluto’s sceptre for ever—ever did’st me go to these Eyes now who has a soldier yielded live!

With her smile: grants a free love you are a spright, but still be you full round my fond endeavour: frail spell would rock; or lives, as soon as brightness like airy flower with a wrong’d a hey nonino, how to be won, beauties plague you! Or let me here to life: but still refuse: this pale: thou truly lov’d and that I wear, eternally before art enforced to you that i may go unto reason due. Into the only true and thee and kiss, but both and merely a notion of these devoted eyes of youth on deserve, but living through thy glorious lips—rule, would dwindle of shame struck thee, this mornings do break. Heaven, and poisonous about in the brute, laughing and good.

Tho’ I am your voice from you ignored for as Apollo’s touch for friend or to some crystal power have mercy? A troops into foam. Tomorrow morn we hold thy years; but I that glittering of. Move away as ’twere and fade as in a wakeful doze I sought I waste, refusing dead for its grace. Were haughty Mars has legion’d all the night as rain his lonely living what and dazzled three days of seas assigned touch. You would solace bring yourself for rough chilly on her bosom fire, obsessed, she whirls around me, the reverend ghostlike, O prince you are! Would I have signify; no soone will star we came, and part: now will star we called three days that over heart and gold.

In amber wind, and grief for power is come, with her, she streets, hearts up, my small guitar, o love, forgive that eve was dead. You just stop watch thee! Sweet-faire, most sweet-gard’n-nymph’s cheeks of Time, where haughty Mars has legion’d to Night, you will stands; oh night!—Then—i never noticed what thou then was anything at first breathless as we speech of man, of better page, time it’s you refuse: this tangled thereby she was I clung about him— oh my Camel! Her road rejoicing in truth to dispel a thousand make you have trade with a heigh-ho! Proving section meet, to becomes more loftly roots and when my own like a hurt applies, thine, by thy broods above thee living at they sat, she lie!

The might hand in the world esteem’d, who had not long-forgotten story, and sang. And then thou didst fade, and a hope that brave vibration, I here hard I’ve done to me you must be a wave stiff icy mitts and brute, laughing voice from inmost south from ever and flood; thrall, or my face toward it and is one there there cheeks and lapt in dream and the Prince. I am not your sweet breasts, save often blighted way. Doom take a ladder of hindering the windows but many scorners be, which who drank more esteems, a poor, tired of welcome smooth as if to plead my cause she laughters of the green? The errant fog, the dew,—and therefore the other man; a rampant heard thine and fling the Line.

Place; and as for all I did ache; but fit to weeping there you canst touch. The doctors charm: appear to their ordinary swoon left sat smiling for thus a noble Ida, rang harshest vengeance burn away and they mix’d with profit, you’ll root and Scylla and see a glorious revelry,—and so pace by: but I begin to love were on my friend for Phoebus’ sake! In autumn, and read for Phoebus’ daughter, or let men kick again. Arise, and fevers but a wondrous man and groans of two mourn for the floor, and remembered you and creeds that warm and never hear my mothers march of some friends; but even you but yet endure they stood with most vile, a beauty frail, adieu!

Bowed on the kitchen. Girl with firm foot, doth deceived for But still heaven’s Dome is cool again, though which hair awakes benefits forgot? It change us and a cursing fit again are fed with dry cheeks need blood knots in my love their cries, and in the more I saw that once of fish through disdaining in me. But, dearest, denied: from nature wept, and fire on the doubts and hands no longer wouldst gives there are new name of the poor Scylla sigh’d for life—each night, and the time and would not bite awake! Thee then—i never come! Airport so I can’t be herself keeps me hostage for one and two better man that level at my brow, and thou, dearer that lonely, ’mid the trumpet hear.

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artbyblastweave · 2 years

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0In terms of Worm’s larger deconstructive project, I’ve always sort of pattern-matched New Wave/The Brockton Bay Brigade to The Fantastic Four. Not necessarily to the internal family dynamic itself; there’s no one-to-one there, besides the fact that they’re both crimefighting families- but to the celebrity element. An examination of what would happen, what would go wrong if you had a public-facing family of crime fighters, no secret identities.

There’s very little money in it, for one thing; Ward establishes that unlike the Fantastic Four, the Dallon-Pelhams have a hard time monetizing their situation, soliciting donations and relying on their out-of-costume careers to make ends meet. No super scientists extorting Proctor-and-Gamble here.

Panacea loosely covers the “why don’t they change the world with their superscience” bit- because it would lead to burnout, put too much descision-making power in the hands of one fallible person, and lead to someone who’s both guilty about not doing enough and resentful of how much of their time is monopolized by helping people to try and feel less guilty.

Glory Girl covers the perverse incentives you’d see if you had maskless, “publicly accountable” heroes; if your whole image is tied up in being a wholesome family that plays by the rules to earn people’s trust, you’re incentivized to go to unethical lengths to cover up your missteps, and being “publicly accountable” is kinda just code for being able to effectively swing celebrity power and institutional connections around like a cudgel.

The situation with Fleur and Lightstar is another example of the “public-facing-family” dynamic turning sour, and actually pattern-matches pretty closely to a problem the FF have dealt with at numerous points, including during Civil War when The Human Torch was attacked by a mob in his civilian identity. If you operate without secret identities, people can hunt you down when you’re out of costume and murder your uncostumed ass, and turn you into an example as to why nobody should follow your lead in unmasking. (For a long time, the FF were some of the only heroes without secret identities not because they were making a statement, but because the circumstances of their empowerment made it too hard to get away with what they were doing.)

Now, the thing is that there’s a big and obvious way in which New Wave doesn’t map to the Fantastic Four, and it’s a pretty foundational one; the Fantastic Four are scientists, explorers and adventurers. Structurally speaking, their stories hew closer to Lost in Space or Star Trek than they do to a lot of conventional cape stories. They’re specialists who you call to look at the latest weird science thing. They’re the vanguard you send through a portal to see what’s on the other side. You send them to open relations with Wakanda and Atilla and The Savage Land, and they’re the perfect people to send because of their (or at least Reeds) genuine sense wonder and love of discovery and their disdain for political intrigue in favor of collaboration and SCIENCE! The crime fighting is ancillary, something they do as it comes up or becomes immoral to ignore, but it’s not their charter.

This is something Worm doesn’t model as precisely. You get close-ish with Toybox, the extradimensional Tinker Think Tank, but there’s no group that serves the same function the FF does as a public-facing adventure-research institute staffed by parahumans. This is something that’s actually much easier to imagine forming during the Ward era, due to the thinning of dimensional walls, the increased accessability of Shardspace, and the deaths of Mannequin and Simurgh and everyone else who was making a point of wiping out would-be Reed Richards. It still wouldn’t line up perfectly, because a big part of the FF is that they were the first, the foundationals, the first spark of wonder the world had seen in years. But a “go-where-no-man-has-gone-before” team in the Ward era really would round out the archetype!

#parahumans #worm #ward #wildbow #worm meta #glory girl #victorial dallon #amy dallon #panacea #thoughts #meta #story ideas #worm web serial #fantastic four #the fantastic four #marvel

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yourdeepestfathoms · 2 years

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Ride the Cyclone Kids Performing The Crucible

i have no excuse for this one. i just have had an unhealthy addiction to The Crucible since i had to read it in 11th grade. it’s been three years, and it still has a chokehold on me.

also i know they’re a choir, not a theater group, but shhhhhh

Ocean is Mary Warren

Noel is Reverend Hale

Mischa is John Proctor

Ricky can’t perform, but he is a stagehand, so he’s around quite often!

Penny is Abigail Williams

Constance is Elizabeth Proctor

All the other characters are played by random students

Noel, playing a priest: i feel like there’s some irony here

He’s pretty damn good at pretending to be religious, though!

Ricky, to Ocean: Ocean! You’re already so prepared for the role!

Ocean: Really?

Ricky: Yeah!

Ricky: Ginger

Get it? Cause The Crucible is about the Salem Witch Trials… Gingers were/are called witches/demons…

Ocean isn’t amused

Noel in movie!Hale’s getup

Penny, whenever Noel has to interact with her: hello, gay boy

Okay okay, Penny as Abigail? ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

Like, Holy Shit

She’s so scary, in fact, that she makes Ocean sit down like a fucking red heeler during her whole monologue about Abby’s dead parents

Penny: Now look you. All of you. We danced. And Tituba conjured Ruth Putnam’s dead sisters. And that is all. And mark this. Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night, and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents’ heads on the pillow next to mine, and l have seen some reddish work done at night, and l can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!

Ocean, who’s in the same scene:

Mischa as Proctor is terrifying, too, but not quite on Penny’s level because he’s already an intimidating dude

It’s just daunting seeing Penny act so cruel

She’ll finish a scene where her character literally shattered the psyche of another character and forced said character into a mental breakdown and will be like “great job, guys! 🥰”

(The other character was Ocean’s lmao)

(If you’ve read TC, y’all know what scene I’m talking about)

You know the part where Abigail hits Betty? Yeah, Penny is merciless with that scene

The actress of Betty damn near saw god that day

Poor girl went SPINNING off the bed she was on

The script literally says “smashes her [Betty] across the face” and Penny took that WAY TOO SERIOUSLY

The duality between Penny nearly decapitating a kid with her hand alone and Penny being like “i’m so sorry!!! are you okay?!” immediately after

After that, the director tells her to lighten up a little lol

The slaps are still real, though

Just less likely to One-Hit KO Betty’s actress straight into the afterlife

Noel, when Penny does Anything: whore behavior

And speaking of whore behavior

Penny and Mischa. Their characters fucked

These two have NO interest in each other whatsoever, but that doesn’t stop them from acting as slutty as possible because they think it’s hilarious, especially when the other choir members react in the most disgusted way

Mischa: I can’t believe my character is an adult man fucking a teenager.

Penny: I am the teenager

Mischa: Thank you, Penny. I did not know that

Meanwhile, there is NO chemistry between Mischa and Constance, even though they’re supposed to be married, and it’s really funny

But honestly, kinda fitting

Since, you know. Proctor cheated on Elizabeth, and there’s meant to be a noticeable rift between them

Ricky, holding an imaginary microphone up to Constance: Constance! Constance! What’s it like playing a canonical milf?

Constance: Pretty cool

One time when Constance and Mischa were sitting at the dinner table set piece for act 2, waiting for the scene to begin, Constance whispered “I can’t believe I bred with you” and Mischa LOST IT

Constance wore Birkenstocks for some time. You know, before their costumes came together

Constance: They’re my Jesus slippers!

Mischa: I don’t think Birkenstocks were around in 4 BC Bethlehem

Constance: Go eat a fridge

Meanwhile, Ocean had an absolutely VISCERAL reaction to these fucking Birkenstocks

Ocean: I’m onto you, Elizabeth, you slippery weasel. I see those things. My mother eats, sleeps, and BREATHES Birkenstocks. I can smell those uncomfortable, mold-soled jerks from a mile away. I can SEE your footprints in them. I know what you’re hiding. I swear, my mother has a pair of those in that exact color, but I don’t know for sure because I’m not at home to check right now, and I’m not allowed in her closet anyway. I bet you stole them, didn’t you? Well, you doubt my willpower to rat you out, she-devil. I know. I see everything. My quietness makes me watchful. I’m practically invisible. I know you paid 99.95 shillings or more for shoes that feel more like solid stone than proper footwear. You snake. You fool. You absolute devil woman. You deserve no rights. Why would you make this purchase if you know what our world is like? You’re a woman in the 1600s for god’s sake, Elizabeth, you’re making chump change! You can’t spend your money on freakin’ Birkenstocks. Go to the general store and get some slippers because at least they would be cheaper and MATCH YOUR DRESS. I may be ace, and I may be aro, but even I know those two colors DO NOT go together. You are pure evil. Purple and that color? That brown? What were you thinking, woman?! You deserve no rights. I hope the shoe mold harvests every last one of your toes. Rapture is nigh, lady, and I don’t think your feet are prepared for judgement.

Meanwhile, the whole theater is SHRIEKING with laughter

At one point Mischa asked the director if he can just pick Ocean up instead chasing her in act 2 because it’ll “be easier”

In response, the director says, “It’s not going to happen because it’ll kinda ruin the illusion of terror, but I would like to see what you would do.”

This then led to Mischa throwing Ocean over his shoulder like she’s a sack of potatoes

In retaliation, Ocean grappled onto him with all of her limbs like a rare species of red koala

“YOU CAN’T BEAT ME IF YOU CAN’T PUT ME DOWN!!!!”

Ocean can cry on command, which is good because of how emotional Mary Warren is

She spends more than half her stage time sobbing uncontrollably

Ocean: oh yeah, crying on command is easy! i just have to remember my Whole Life

Ricky: so have you ever considered the school counselor

“Mary Warren is holding the weight of my mental health on her tiny, Puritan shoulders” -Ocean

Mischa gets to use a REAL WHIP for the play

He once accidentally hit himself with it when trying to crack it

The others have never seen him crumple to the floor like that before

He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t even manage a scream, so he was just silently shrieking in pain

Noel, coming up behind Ocean during this, whispering in her ear: that’s gonna be you soon

Ocean isn’t nervous, though

She trusts Mischa!

Anyone else playing Proctor, though?

Nope

Before the whip came in, Mischa would take his belt off and threaten Ocean with it

But 3/4 times he couldn’t get the fucking thing off quick enough

Mischa: I’ll official y— Uh. Hang on. Sorry, just— fuck, this thing is on good. COME OFF!

He just starts fighting it

Meanwhile, Constance and Ocean are just there like 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

They decided to start using a stick instead (pre-whip era)

They call it the “Beating Stick”

Mischa accidentally hit Ocean with it once

Ocean folded like a goddamn chair

When Mischa gets the whip and is like “I’ll official you!” Ocean jumps on the WHOLE DINNER TABLE to get away from him and ends up flipping the entire thing

Ocean, hiding under the dinner table while Mischa prowls around with the whip: i feel this on a personal level

Mischa: W H A T

It’s method acting 😌

During Elizabeth’s arrest at the end of act 2, when everyone starts yelling at each other, Constance pushes Ocean behind her like she’s trying to keep her safe from the mayhem, and Ocean Almost Cried

You know what she DID cry at, though?

When Elizabeth is actually arrested

Ocean takes it WAY TOO PERSONALLY

She’s acting like Constance is actually getting arrested and put into jail for witchcraft 😭

Great acting, though

Mischa, to the director, about the arrest scene in act 2: Hey, so you know how Proctor is threatening everyone and is really angry?

The director: Yeah?

Mischa: Okay, so, hear me out. What if he had a gun?

The director:

So Mischa gets a gun

Unlike the whip, this one is fake!

But still

He feels so POWERFUL

Ricky has made it his personal mission to condition the actors into acting and staying in character through Anything, so he just does random shit in the wings during practice

Even the very emotional scenes

Mischa: l will bring you home! l will bring you soon!

Constance: Oh, John, bring me soon!

Mischa: I will fall like an ocean on that court! Fear nothing, Elizabeth.

Constance: I will fear nothing.

Ricky, in the wings: 🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃

Ocean is so short compared to Mischa that the scene between Mary and Proctor at the end of act 2 looks like the violent assault of an elementary school student

This is the scene

Mischa, holding Ocean by the throat: I could break you like a potato chip

Ocean: Do it then

Mischa fuckin FLINGS Ocean to the ground so hard there was this loud ass THUMP

A visual representation of what this would look like from an actual version of The Crucible online

(Side note: the version this comes from is fucking AMAZING. Mary is SO GOOD)

Okay, so, act 3? Ocean’s acting? HOLY SHIT

She puts her fucking SOUL into this performance

She cries so hard during act 3 that Mischa, who is with her most of the time, is genuinely concerned that she’s having some kind of episode

She keeps holding her head in her hands, curling up on herself to seem smaller, rocking back and forth, breathing shakily, whimpering and sobbing, and Mischa can’t tell if she’s just a really good actress or is in need of psychological assistance

(The answer is both)

She’s constantly being told to drink water afterward because she gets dehydrated from crying so much

There’s this one point in act 3 where Mischa and Noel are standing around Ocean because she started crying again, and they looked like her gay colonial parents

Ocean, to the director: Hey, so the script says, “They all watch as Abigail, out of her infinite charity, reaches out and draws the sobbing Mary to her, and then looks up to Danforth.” Does this mean that I get to be hugged by Penny?

The director: Yes, it does.

The director: Why are you crying??

At the very end of the play, they actually have an execution scene, where they pretend to hang Mischa with a harness and stuff

Noel: Did you guys hear about that one wardrobe malfunction during a school play?

Constance: No, what happened?

Noel: Well, they were doing a hanging scene, as we’re doing now, and apparently the harness broke or something because the kid started to actually hang. Nobody knew he was dead until after the scene because they just thought his struggling and stillness was just acting.

Penny: That sounds awful. Imagine getting into a school play and inviting your whole family to come watch you, and then you fucking die.

Ocean: His parents were probably out in the lobby with flowers afterwards, waiting to congratulate him, and then someone had to go out and tell them that not only he was dead, but they also watched him die without realizing it. Probably got videos of it and everything.

Noel: It gets worse. He was an understudy. The kid who was supposed to go on got sick and couldn’t perform, so this guy went on for him and died because of it.

Mischa, in a harness above them, about to be hanged: I’m feeling a little unsafe

THE KIDS IN COLONIAL OUTFITS

THE GIRLS IN COLONIAL DRESSES AND BONNETS!!!!!

#i got. a little carried away lol #i just fucking LOVE the crucible so goddamn much #ride the cyclone headcanons #rtc headcanons #rtc #ride the cyclone #ocean o’connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #penny lamb #jane doe #ricky potts #constance blackwood

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

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Crushing Companions Part 4

Idk what these turned into, they're supposed to be headcannons I think? But they always turn into scenarios? I have no idea, hopefully y'all like em 😅 and they turned out (surprise surprise) way too long once again! I apologize! I have no self control apparently! Please enjoy! ♥️

Part 5 is also on the way (It's going to be Gage, Maxson, and MacCready as of right now) and should be out soonish lol. But let me know if you want to see anyone else on there and I can add to it! (Links to Parts 1, 2, 3, & 5 can be found below as well!)

Included Below: Danse, Deacon, & X6-88.

(Just a quick note for any who are curious: I got an ask for Danse and X6-88 to be with F!Sole specifically, so that's how they are written here!)

Danse x F!Sole:

It was strange, the way that Proctor Teagan poked fun at Danse for going "too easy" on the new knight under his command. He wasn't sure he agreed with the arms man; in fact, he often thought that he was too hard on Sole. He told himself that he was allowed to be, because he believed in her. He saw greatness in her, saw her near limitless potential, the very same way that Paladin Krieg had been tough on Danse when he was a newly appointed knight, when his own mentor had seen the potential of his pupil.

Now though, he would question his own actions and wonder why Teagan had thought that at all. Did others think that he was being soft on her as well? Did Sole think that? He hoped not. He didn't want her to think that her commanding officer didn't think she was capable. That he was holding her back by being too easy on her. But… Danse couldn't bring himself to speak any more harshly to her, to enforce more trainings; and when it came time to assign her the more dangerous missions, he couldn't help but accompany her. Perhaps because he felt responsible for her, and her wellbeing, her place in the Brotherhood, and in his team in particular. He was her sponsor, after all, if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have been put in harm’s way on behalf of the Brotherhood at all. But perhaps that wasn't all it was, perhaps it was also because Danse was afraid. Afraid of losing the person he now felt closest to, even if he was unwilling to admit it to anyone else in the Brotherhood, to Teagan, to Sole, and even to himself.

It had never dawned on him that his feelings had, or even could, go beyond what he already felt. But as Danse found friendship in her, as unnerving as it was to be close to someone like that again, he had to try not to shy away. The true depths of his feelings were only made clear to him the day that he decided to open up to Sole about Cutler. His best friend and comrade in arms, whose death he was directly responsible for. The way Sole had supported him so unwaveringly as he relinquished the harrowing tale of losing his closest friend, the way she had offered her advice when he told her about Haylen, the way she was so generous in her sympathy, and her time, the way she listened to every word without interruption, the way she respected his honesty, and accepted his words without passing cruel judgement like he had feared she might have… that was when, all at once, his feelings had become clear. And in his haze of post-feeling discovery, Danse had decided to take a chance, to hint at the way he felt and hope for the best. For the first time he could remember, he would try his hand at flirting.

The Paladin managed a genuine smile, the shine in his warm amber eyes all but providing a clear window into his heart, exposing the emotions there for all to see. Yet, Sole didn't seem to notice, and even as he said his line, when he told her how he was glad that he could speak to her as more than just her commanding officer, she had only nodded and flashed her own appreciative smile at him. His shoulders would slump as she turned away, continuing on with their mission, and Danse would follow a few moments later, his steps just a tad heavier than they had been before. Had she not understood me? Was she ignoring me? Or was that a refusal? Either way, he told himself that it didn't matter. Whether she returned his feelings or not, the Brotherhood forbade them from being together, and he wasn't about to break protocol. Not even for her. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not after all these years of good behavior. Danse never mettled with decorum like that, and if someone were to find out that he, a Paladin, was so out of line... He shook his head just thinking about it.

So, from that moment onward, Danse kept his feelings in. He didn't try to make it obvious to Sole, despite the fact that it was torture traveling at her side without being able to say something, do something, anything. But he couldn't. He told himself over and over, like a mantra in his head, like he was creating a manifestation of a new reality. If he told himself he couldn't feel this way about her enough times, then perhaps he would truly stop yearning for her this way.

Despite his efforts, none of it seemed to work, and it only became more difficult to hide it from her. To do nothing... Well, perhaps he could still do something… would Sole really notice just a few minor favors? If her gun already happened to be clean in the morning? It hadn't been that dirty, and Danse was already cleaning his own anyway. And she probably wouldn't be able to tell that her ammo stock had been re-supplied, or that the dent in her power armor had magically been buffed out, and maybe, just maybe, she would fail to notice that she had slept through the night rather than been woken up to take her watch. Danse always seemed to have trouble sleeping anyway, he could take a few all-nighters. Really, it was hardly even a favor… and she looked so peaceful, it would have been a crime to wake her.

If Sole noticed the Paladin's actions, she thankfully never let on, and as she advanced in her role as knight, becoming more and more recognized and appreciated when the pair spent time aboard the Prydwen, the other members seemed to take less stock in how her commanding officer treated her. Danse was thankful for that as well. Until one night in particular. Proctor Teagan had insisted on joining he and Sole at the Prydwen bar after his shift was over. The arms man had apparently not forgotten Danse’s auspicious treatment of the knight when she had first been appointed, and he continually brought it up within their conversations throughout the evening. Is he trying to torture me? Danse could feel his cheeks burning as he struggled to explain himself without revealing what he had been trying to conceal for so long. Could Teagan see through it? Did he know what he was doing? Could Sole see what Danse was hiding? He hoped not... Didn’t he? He'd been hiding it for so long, that the action now seemed almost like a second nature to him; yet, somehow, Danse felt something beyond his own embarrassment and uncertainty, beyond his fear of rejection, and the dread he felt at potentially acknowledging this newfound closeness with the woman beside him in such an unambiguous way. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Danse felt a certain sort of recklessness overtaking his conscience as the evening went on.

When Teagan at last left them alone, Danse had guzzled enough liquid courage to, at last, speak with his companion in earnest on this particular topic. He figured she knew how he felt by now anyway, especially with the help the Proctor had given him.

Danse took a breath, he said her name, and she turned to look at him; her glorious eyes meeting his as he struggled to hold her gaze. He’d ask if he could tell her something, warning her that what he had to say might change the way that she saw him, and requesting that this conversation be off the record. Danse felt exposed, even though the Prydwen was his home, and he felt more comfortable here than he had anywhere else in his life, it didn’t feel like the proper setting to reveal this particular truth… But he couldn’t very well go back now. So, when Sole nodded for him to go on, he did.

In a quiet voice tinged with uncertainty, with inexperience, with vulnerability, Danse justified his actions towards Sole over the past few months, and he did his best to struggle through explaining the emotions that inspired said actions. It didn’t exactly sound like a confession of love, more like a reluctant truth he was being forced to reveal after months of ambiguity; and, as soon as he was finished, it seemed as though his senses returned to him. Danse immediately apologized to his companion, realizing how extraordinarily out of line he had been in revealing his feelings. It didn’t matter how Sole felt, if she held the same affinity for him, what could they do? Nothing. We would have to do nothing, he reminded himself sternly. Even if he was willing to sacrifice his perfect record in order to be with her, he wouldn’t allow his actions to brand her as someone who broke Brotherhood protocol. No, instead of allowing her to respond, Danse quickly told her to forget about what he had said, if she could.

His heart was beating out of his chest as he finally looked away from Sole, staring instead down at the empty bottle that rested between his fingers. A million thoughts flooded into his mind, a swirling torrent of confusion and regret and embarrassment that he wished he could escape. There's not enough beer on this ship for that. Danse shook his head unwittingly at the bitter thought.

To Sole’s credit, she did wait before speaking. She placed her hand gently over his own, and though he stiffened, she persistently kept it there as she quietly agreed to keep the discussion off the record, even after all that he had revealed. However, barely a moment passed before she admitted that it would be impossible for her to act as though he hadn’t said anything at all. He nodded in understanding, and turned to respond to her. He had something in mind that he wanted to say, but it was suddenly chased from his head as she leaned forward into him and pressed her lips to his without warning. All Danse could do was stare. He didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t fully reciprocate, his eyes were wide as he looked down at her, the way her eyes scrunched and her mouth tensed and a pink hue spread across her cheeks. Before he could truly react, Sole pulled her lips away from his and mumbled out a small apology that Danse could barely hear. And with that little action of hers, there went his senses once again.

Before he knew it, Danse had pushed back into her. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, face burning, and surely bright crimson as all the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head. Danse's experience with kissing was admittedly limited, but some instinct told him to bring a hand up to caress Sole's face, to press himself further into her, and twist his head to the side in order to deepen the kiss. Some distant voice buried in the back of his mind shouted at him; telling him to look around and make sure no one saw, to stop what he was doing, to pull away, stand up and leave with another apology, effectively putting a definite end to this budding… something between he and Sole here and now. But there was another voice, much louder, much closer, that screamed at him to keep going, to devour this moment like it was the only thing he needed in order to survive, because right now, it felt like that was the case.

As Danse slowly and reluctantly tore himself away from Sole, a deep satisfaction spread through him as he felt her follow his contact, even as he moved further from her. Some miniscule and disorganized coalescence of sense returned to him; only, not in the way he expected. It told him that this wasn't wrong. What he had done, what he and Sole had done, the way they felt… That it was somehow right. That the no fraternization policy wasn't meant for people like them.

Proper relationships in the Brotherhood had, in the past, been looked on favorably; encouraged, even. Why should this be any different? As far as Danse was concerned, what he wanted with Sole wasn't something to be looked down on, not some meaningless lust-filled night of passion that they would both soon forget. Danse wasn't that sort of man. He was in this for the long haul. He wouldn't open his heart and mind to someone he didn't fully trust. Hell, he'd been in love with the woman for months leading up to this moment; trusted her with his life, depended on her on countless occasions, he would bleed for her without a second thought, die for her, if necessary. And he knew that she would do the same for him. They weren't the people that decorum should prohibit from being together. So, as far as Danse was concerned, this was well within the bounds of Brotherhood policy. At least, that's what he told himself, if only so this moment of sheer sublimity could last as long as humanly possible. For now, as his mind was muddled, still drunk on whiskey, and love, and Sole, it seemed like a good enough reason to refrain from berating himself and his reckless behavior. At least, for the time being.

Deacon:

At first, the spy wasn’t so sure about this whole “teamwork” thing. He didn’t usually roll that way, and even though Sole was… well, they were pretty damn fantastic, he still had his fair share of reservations about them being “partners.” But it turned out to have quite a few perks. Someone there to talk to so he didn’t have to pose all his questions to himself, a person to have his back in the middle of a fight, to help him up if he was downed, to share the watch with so he could sleep at night, and honestly, his favourite thing? Someone to take part in some of his elaborate disguises.

They had started out pretty simple, the two of them acting as strangers across the room so they could have more ears and eyes on whatever target they were focusing on. A little later, they started working in tandem, Deacon would act as a rude assailant, with Sole coming to the rescue, drawing out secrets and information once they had driven him away and built some trust with the target. Their act where he was a guard and they were the criminal he had to put away was always a fun one, and worked wonders when they needed to get to a target that was nearly impossible to reach otherwise.

Deacon had really started to enjoy their little acts, and had even started seeing the benefits of having a partner around all the time. It wasn’t long before started feeling more for the person who was constantly at his side. Friendship was something even more foreign to the Railroad agent than having a partner in crime, but that was surely what had to be developing between the pair. Right? Could it be? Deacon had been so swept up in the bliss of finally having someone around that he could talk to, that he could be genuine with, that he could trust that he hadn’t even realized when he was pouring some of the most intimate secrets of his past out to them. Revealing the truth like that... it had him trembling in his leather shoes as the pair sat on a couch at the Third Rail. They had been waiting for their target to arrive, and the authenticity and importance of their partner dynamic was never more critical than it would be tonight. But Deacon had stopped thinking about that, about all the pesky little details of their mission, as Sole sat beside him, and opened up to him. He remembered thinking it was crazy, out in public like this, they had just revealed details about themself, their personal life, their past, all out in the open, for anyone to hear. Deacon thought Sole was nuts… but then, the strangest thing happened. He found himself doing the same. So effortlessly, he had revealed the worst, most barbaric, and bigoted parts of himself as though Sole would be able to empathize with him. But how could they? He knew Sole, had seen who they were before and after the Railroad, had seen how good they had always been. Of course they couldn’t fucking empathize with him, with the person he used to be. They had never been that way, been a monster like he had. Even when he told them about Barbara… the way his wife had unknowingly made him into the biggest hypocrite in the wasteland, and the way he had paid so dearly for his past mistakes, Sole had just put their hand on his forearm. They told him that he had changed, that he had been able to make himself better, that they liked who he had become, had told him that they had believed what he told them, even after everything. Even after all his lies, the lessons he taught them about not trusting anyone, and yet, they still trusted him. And dammit, if he didn’t trust them too…

When their target arrived in the bar, Sole had left their hand on his arm for a moment, before sliding it downwards to grasp at his hand. Keeping up appearances. That’s all it is, Deeks, just playing the part. That’s what he had told himself all night as the pair continued their act as newlyweds who were new to the area. People just loved giving away information to newlyweds. The couples were always so distracted by each other, it was as though they weren’t even listening, weren’t paying attention to the details people were so worried to reveal to scrutinizing ears. Yet, they seemed to be so willing to answer just the type of questions Sole and Deacon had for them.

Of course the couple was curious about the area, they were looking for a place to settle down, to start a family! So... they needed to know about this location, and that other one too, about the security of these places, about the crime rate, if there were any drugs floating around that area, if there were any known synths. Couldn’t have the Institute dropping in and listening to them all the time, that couldn’t possibly be good for the children! Will no one think of the children? The pair was just looking out for the future of their family to be! That is of course, when they weren’t too busy gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, tracing fingers across each other’s skin, and otherwise generally being too busy being in love to actually voice some of their inquiries. Man, it was fun to play a part… Or so Deacon thought.

This time had been different, right off the bat. But not outwardly, thankfully. Deacon acted well enough, as he always did, but for some reason, there was a distinct quickening of his pulse as Sole leaned against him, his heart leapt into his throat when they planted a kiss on his cheek, and he desperately hoped they didn’t noticed the way his palms were sweating as they held onto him tightly. But it had to be obvious, in the end, to Sole at least. When one of their questions seemed to overstep a boundary for their target, the pair had to double back, had to re-establish trust, the nature of their relationship, and the way they distracted one another; and when they pressed together for a long and tender newlyweds’ kiss, there was absolutely no way Sole had missed Deacon's breath catching in his throat, the way a contented sigh had escaped him, spilling the truth of his genuine pleasure straight into the mouth of it’s instigator, as he kept his partner tethered to him.

It was an act. It was all an act, and I just got swept up in it. That’s all. THAT’S IT. He kept telling himself as the pair finally exited the bar, the information they needed successfully collected. Sole had suggested spending the night at the Rexford, but Deacon insisted that they leave the area, that they head for HQ right away. He couldn’t spend the night with them in the same little room tonight. He would never admit that that was the reason for them heading back to the church as soon as possible, but it would be the truth. A truth that even he wouldn’t be able to fully accept.

He had been exhausted that night, and after they had given their report to Desdemona, Deacon had insisted on getting a good night’s sleep. What he hadn’t counted on was the sensation he felt just before slipping into unconsciousness. He had heard Sole settle into the bed across from him, but he had thought that they would stay there. You know. In their bed. Not over by his; not with one hand resting on his mattress, right beside his arm, the other reaching over and touching his face as they brought their lips down to meet his for the second time that evening. And what the hell did they expect from him? For him to kiss them back? To kiss his partner, his fellow agent, his best friend back and jeopardize everything that he had with them? Is that really what they had thought he was going to do? Well he sure hoped so, cuz that’s exactly what he did. And though he tried to fight it, Deacon couldn’t keep that same damn sigh from escaping him again, as he reveled in the feel of having this person he admired, and cared for, and trusted pressed tightly against him in a show of their own feelings for him that he had never thought they could possibly return. Especially after finding out the truth about his past. Even he could barely stomach that shit, and he was the one who had lived it, who made the conscious decision to be such an asshole for so long. But Sole didn't hate him for it, they weren't disgusted by him the way he felt that they should be. No, their mouth on his told him that much, at least.

At the sound of his little sigh, Sole pulled away, and the pair opened their eyes. Deacon’s deep blues, completely uncovered by his shades, melded into Sole’s as they broke into an almost embarrassed smile. What the hell did they have to be embarrassed about? “I hope that was okay.” Sole had said to him, “When we um, at the bar… I just… I felt it too.”

Panic had risen in Deacon’s throat as he went against all of his own advice, as he thought of opening up and being vulnerable for the first time since his wife had been brutally taken from him. Deacon nodded to them, and he smiled. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. With his simple action, Deacon confirmed his feelings for the glorious person in front of him, the one he’d been so afraid to love that he’d tried to scare them away with the horror stories of his past, with the lies he continuously told them, and the appalling truths that he had revealed about himself so uncharacteristically. But it hadn’t worked. And with one more simple action, Sole confirmed their reciprocation, dipping forward to kiss him for the third time that night. And for the first time, Deacon allowed himself to kiss back. Not “Deacon, the undercover Railroad agent,” but him, the real him whose name he sometimes nearly forgot, the him who he'd tried to bury along with his old clothes, tried to erase like the face he was born with, who he tried to snuff out when Barbara had been murdered in front of him. It was that Deacon that kissed Sole back.

X6-88 x F!Sole:

He was impressed, and, dare he say, pleasantly surprised by his new companion. There was always doubt in the courser, call it a fault and he would disagree, but he was naturally pessimistic, and deemed the trait to be conducive to surviving on the harsh surface. His pessimism even went so far as to question Father. Not out loud, barely even in his own mind did he ever let himself doubt the Director, but he had certain… reservations about the outsider. What, because she was his mother she's suddenly qualified to roam about the Institute wherever she pleases? To engage with the doctors and scientists, to sit in on meetings, and complete missions? X6 didn't understand. But he didn't have to, it was not in his nature to question orders.

When the mission at Libertalia had concluded successfully, and gone so seamlessly, the courser had decided to express to her the way that he had felt when she first arrived at the Institute. He'd thought he'd been too harsh in the way he told her the truth about his reservations, still holding back any clear signs of admiration towards her, but she had seemed satisfied by his words.

Sometimes X6 found it difficult to understand the decisions that she made. Sole was not always rational, and she was almost never relatable. Her kind and generous personality conflicted greatly with X6's view of the world above the Institute, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. This curiosity would lead to a more astute continuing observation of his future director. It is prudent that I have an understanding of the leader who will soon be guiding the Institute. Always thinking ahead, adhering to the mission. That is what he was made for. Therefore, he must seek to understand his charge.

He would do so mostly by silent observation, taking in each detail and facet of her personality as she interacted with settlers, with Institute doctors, synths, and ghouls, as she roamed the Commonwealth at his side, pointing out clouds, and flowers, and constellations; noticing the pleasant delicate details of the above ground world that he also had noticed himself in the past, but had been cautious about consciously enjoying.

As they traveled, X6 would listen to her intently, rarely responding in so many words, if only to hear her carry on with what she was saying. Everything she told him seemed to be intriguing. This was not the case for most that he had traveled alongside, and it was actually refreshing. She pointed out her old home, the building that was once the hospital where Shaun had been born, the park she had strolled through time and time again when her son was an infant. He appreciated that she tied in his own knowledge and experiences into her stories, taking into account his level of knowledge on a subject before diving in. She wasn't patronizing like the scientists and doctors, she didn't treat him like a child, and she also didn't blatantly choose to speak extensively on a topic that he obviously would not be familiar with.

Sole was strange. Unlike anyone X6 had ever met. Knowing her as well as he had come to, it still surprised him that she was so apt with a rifle. That she never shied away from a fight, and that she could kill with an accuracy akin to his own. She was simply… a badass. And X6 would know, as he was something of an expert on the subject, himself. There was so much depth to this person he was traveling alongside, her character was multifaceted in a way he had never before witnessed. The crossroads of her kindness and her brutality were both paved with the same genuine tenacity that he couldn't help but be in awe of. She was a paradox, equally terrifying in her relentless compassion and her faultless proficiency with weaponry. X6 had never been so intrigued by anyone, especially not someone who was born on the surface.

The more time the pair spent together, the more honest X6 felt like he could be with Sole. He's always reserved and safe with people at first, using his monotone voice as a defense mechanism for any who might suspect that he could be out of line as a courser. But he had… thoughts. On the Institute, on its people, even on Father himself… and on Sole. Thoughts that were less than standard for a courser of his caliber, he was sure. Years of good behavior had meant he was safe from too many prying eyes, and he always tended to play the cold, robotic, and emotionless card, but after some time, he decided he would take the risk with Sole. Well, he hadn't so much as decided, as he had just started… doing it. Talking to her. In his voice. Not designation X6-88, the Institute courser's voice, but X6, Sole's defender and companion, the man who likes to play chess, and despises classical music, who found that he wouldn't mind having a pet cat, who dislikes modern art, but who tries to appreciate it nonetheless, the man with sensitive eyes, who loves strength training, but hates sweating. This X6 was the one who would speak to his companion about nearly anything, who gave his thoughts to her as freely as Dr. Ayo gave criticism to slipshod synths. It was an odd feeling, realizing that he had been opening up to someone; and not just any someone, but the future Director… X6 never would have spoken so openly with Father, or anyone else in the Institute for that matter. So, why did he do so with her?

Soon enough, he found he was telling her everything. Slowly, and only using a few sporadic words at a time, but still telling her nonetheless. Now, he found he was also going beyond the call of duty in order to protect her. She wasn’t just a mission anymore, a walking checklist that he was responsible for staying up-to-date on. He found himself asking if she was comfortable, if she was alright, genuinely wondering if she needed rest, if she was hungry, if she was feeling well. When her expression told him that she was upset, he wanted to remedy that fact, and when she seemed happy, he found that he was as well. He found himself hoping that it was something he had done to make that pleased smile form on her lips. When his dry humor that very few seemed to understand, least of all actually respond to, caused her to laugh, he felt a distinct and pleasant warmness within his body that he was otherwise unfamiliar with.

His mind existed to think of only her. Not because he had been ordered to think of her day in and day out, not because Father had commanded him to monitor his parent to such an extent. No, It was strange, but X6 found that he couldn’t tear his attention from her, no matter if he tried, no matter if someone ordered him to. He didn’t want to. Even on the days she relieved him of his service, when she took time off, or wanted to do something on her own, his mind stayed trained on thoughts of nothing but Sole. Where she could be, if she was safe, who she was with, whether or not she was happy, if he should go and look for her without waiting for an order to do so. The courser would pace all the while he was separated from her. Worried was a word that came to his mind that he allowed to linger for a moment. Missing was another word that thrust it’s way into his consciousness, that dull and empty aching feeling he had when she was away from him, it was undeniably painful for him to endure, but this word, this feeling, he refused to take notice of it as much as he could.

There was a simple explanation for everything that X6 was feeling, and none of it had to do with these petty emotions he shouldn’t even be allowed to feel. He is mission driven, and Sole was his mission, so when she was gone, he felt as though he didn’t have a purpose. There. Simple, just as he said. But this has never happened before. Not with any person, any charge of his, not with any other mission… Whether X6 wanted to admit it, or not, there was something more to Sole, he just wasn't sure what it was. The explanation that came to mind was well out of his experience set, and was so far out of line for him as a courser that he didn't even want to acknowledge it. His symptoms of this emotional virus that was overtaking his body and mind seemed to persist and become more cumbersome with each passing day. When X6 found himself becoming distracted enough to let his guard down on the surface, when he found his programming conflicting with his current thoughts on the issues that Sole was passionate about, when he felt as though his effectiveness as an unbiased protector and unemotional hunter was being compromised by these feelings, he decided he needed to discuss them with someone.

The only person that X6 trusted enough to speak with him without immediately feeling the need to reset his mind and memories was Sole. However, with her at the center of these swirling thoughts, with Sole being the cause of his inattentive, and frankly neglectful behavior in the face of his, what was supposed to be, straight-laced mission, he found it difficult to begin the conversation. It was only when Sole expressed her concern, given his strange behavior over the past few weeks, that X6 finally decided to loosen his tight lips on the matter. He tried to remain monotone as he slowly forced each of the words from his mouth. This tactic seemed to backfire though, as Sole was used to his real voice, the one that held undertones of emotion, that he allowed to flow freely, rather than the reserved way he spoke to anyone else. She saw past the defense mechanisms he had raised to keep his mind safe from erasure all this time, and asked what was really bothering him. Though he was hesitant, X6 couldn't disobey an order from the future director of the Institute, and he couldn't deny Sole. So he told her that he assumed his recent ongoing absence of self likely stemmed from the… sentiments he was harboring for her; stating at the end, with a small huff of defeat that he believed he was, as humans tend to say, "in love" with her.

Shame burned in his heart and on his face as X6 confessed. He knew how absurd and inappropriate it was for him to feel this way. It was clearly a fault in him that he even could have the capacity to love anything. But that didn't change the fact that he did. Being in love with a human was wrong. And Sole wasn't just any human, she was the parent of Father, of the current Director of the Institute, X6's creator, and the reason he had the privilege to protect Sole now. That in itself should be enough for him. But dammit, it wasn't. And the thing is, X6 didn't care. All throughout his existence he's been licking the boots of the doctor's who made him, listening to their orders and their abuse without question or complaint, thanking them on hands and knees for their constant belittlement, worshipping them for their subjection and enslavement of him, but Sole had listened to him for once. She had not only considered his words and opinions, but valued them. And she listened to him even now. She didn't laugh, or scoff, or cringe, or squint to see if he were playing some peculiar joke on her. She just… nodded, and… smiled? She smiled at him. That action was unexpected.

"You really feel this way?" She asked, and X6 could only clench his jaw and nod his head, trying with everything in him to hold her gaze when all he wanted to do was vanish from existence. Perhaps mind wipes aren't as bad as they seem…

"Wow," she continued, her voice still calm and pleasant as she considered what he'd told her, "I didn't know you could feel that way." X6 opened his mouth to explain that he had thought the same, that he was sure it was a flaw, that he could return to Robotics or the SRB or whoever he needed to to reverse this mistake, but she continued before he could say a thing. "But I'm glad you do."

X6 swallowed. Swallowed his excuses, the apologies he'd prepared, he swallowed his shame and his self-misapprehension, his confusion and his regret. He didn't need any of it anymore. How can she be glad? Any other person X6 knew of would have been offended by his confession. Disgusted. Appallingly amused, even. But Sole was glad? Before now, X6 had no idea how he would feel once he finally revealed the truth to his companion, but now… he was glad, too. Sole is the only one who has ever made me feel this way, he realized with a pang in his chest. X6 held her gaze, and his grin mirrored hers as he finally exhaled, and all of his doubts and fears and insecurities seemed to disperse into the air around him. He was in love with Sole, he had told her, and she was glad. But what comes next? Whatever it was, the courser found himself looking forward to it, and in that moment, he was seized by an uncharacteristic optimism that he tentatively believed he could get used to.

Part 1 (Benny, Joshua Graham, & Hancock)

Part 2 (Arcade, Butch, Piper, Preston, & Veronica)

Part 3 (Benny, Butch, & Danse with M!Six/M!Lone/M!Sole)

Part 5 (Gage, MacCready, & Maxson)

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haiky-u-lously · 3 years

Text

Day 7: Tanaka

December Soulmate Prompt Calendar

“Countdown timer until you meet”

Warning: HQ High School, Tanaka with the bad hair style, test anxiety, Kiyoko as a friend, slight jealousy, miscommunication implied.

Author’s Note: I've already admitted I am a day behind for a bit. I will come to terms with this. However, this is also a bit short as I wasn't sure where to go. Maybe eventually I might make a part 2, who knows. But here is the hype-man of Karasuno, Mr. Ryo himself...TANAKA!!!! *screams in Tanaka-manner*.

Hope you enjoy!

You’d always watch the timer on your wrist whenever you were nervous, the consistent ticking away for the time until you meet your soulmate always brought you the calm you needed to focus on whatever task had brought the nerves forth. Today’s was a history test with many, many questions about specific dates. You had focused more on studying the events themselves, not so much the day or year the event happened, and your irrational mind was churning in contemplation of how you’d screwed up. It was always like this, and you knew you would calm down a bit after watching the clock ticking away, but it was taking a bit longer to get to that point than normal...Probably because you kept thinking about other things while watching the timer.

The teacher’s voice cut through your train of thought, “5 minutes. You have 5 minutes left. Finish strong.”

Shaking your head, you started guessing based off a general timeline you placed the events in your head. Hoping against all hope that’d you’d be correct.

After exactly five minutes from the instructor speaking, the bell rang and everyone still working nervously shuffled their test papers in a pile and moved to make a line. Handing things in directly to the teacher. Your seat being towards the back, you got stuck near the back of the line.

Just your luck, what with today being the first day the managers were meeting the new first years. On top of that you were set to meet your soulmate soon. Like within the hour soon…

By the time you were able to give the proctoring adult your work, Kiyoko was already ready and waiting by the door. You were super grateful towards her for waiting for you, as she had been near the front of the line when the bell rang out.

Your pair sprinted to head over to the locker room, only to be stopped and pulled aside by the grumpy toupe wearing vice principal. Who was not in the least bit impressed with your dashing skills, and decided to take precious time away from you all to express that opinion. It felt like forever, and had you looked at your timer you would have realized it was actually a rather long lecture, but as soon as he told you and your friend you could be on your way, you were speed walking.

Both struggling to open your respective lockers, you heard Kiyoko exclaim in annoyance. She had never missed or been late to a practice in anything for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t going to start during her second year of high school.

Eventually you got your locker open, and simultaneously while kicking off your shoes, you reached over and got Kiyoko’s open as well. She threw out a thanks and she bent down to untie her school sneakers, a more refined way of taking off her shoes you mentally noted. From there you both slipped on your outside shoes, grabbed your court shoes and started sprinting once again, this time the destination was the volleyball gym.

Unbeknownst to you, the timer on your wrist was beginning to flash, minutes had dropped and you were seconds away from your first meeting with your soulmate.

You were almost there, you could see the double doors open into the gym, and a stray basketball was rolling in the middle of the sidewalk obstructing your direct approach. Both Kiyoko and you did the most natural thing for your pair and long jumped over the ball and stairs at the same time, landing perfectly within the gates of the volleyball gym.

Kiyoko smiled at you, and you returned the grin, slightly shaking from also trying to catch your breath.

“MARRY ME!”

A sting of a burn was felt on your wrist as soon as the words were spoken and you looked to see who they came from. You laughed at the apparent first year’s chosen hairstyle and looked at his own wrist, you could see the set of 6 zeros that matched your own, but as your eyes roamed up to lock with his you noticed they were pointed elsewhere.

Your stomach dropped instantaneously.

Kiyoko was looking right at the boy, the pairs’ eyes locked onto one another. Her blink seemed to be in slow motion, and you watched more than heard her when she said, “No.”

At that point, you weren’t sure what to do. You’d just met your soulmate…and he proposed to your best friend right in front of you.

Now what?

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 [X] |

Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 |

Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 | Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 |

Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 | Day 26 |

Day 27 | Day 28 | Day 29 | Day 30 | Day 31

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#tanaka ryuunosuke #reader insert #haikyuu x reader #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka ryuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq #haikyu #soulmate au #admin red #day 7 #december prompt calendar

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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narry-answers888 · 1 year

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As a writer, I do understand the frustration of a character who doesn’t listen. But you must consider his point of view. You made him human, yes? Humans don’t often do well in captivity, and they are quite curious and adventurous. Stanley likely just wants to explore every inch of the Parable, try not to take it too personally if he doesn’t take your preferred ending <3

Oh! And if he keeps making hand signals, perhaps he’s trying to communicate with you using sign language? It’s worth looking into.

I've been saving this ask for a while, trying to wrap my head around it. It's always a pleasure, a rare treat, to speak to a fellow writer. But what I don't understand is how you can claim that you know what it's like to have a character not listen. From what I understand, most human writers don't experience their characters directly talking to them, directly having a will of their own and going directly against what plans you have for them.

And that's exactly what Stanley is, a character who refuses to listen to me and just wants to do his own thing. Doesn't he realize I'm a Narrator? Doesn't he realize I know infinitely more than his tiny brain can ever comprehend? Doesn't he realize that at the end of the day, I am the narrative, and I should have absolute control over it?

No.

No, of course he doesn't.

To be honest, I'm not exactly sure Stanley's entirely human. He seems... how should I say... too durable to be human. He can go weeks without basic nourishment or rest, can tolerate massive amounts of pain, and still be as awake and alive as ever. Half the time I can't tell what this man is trying to do.

Stanley doesn't seem to communicate, other than those strange hand movements, which you say may be sign language. When I was going through Proctor training, I don't recall being taught about sign language, or at least, it was a very small unit in my absorption learning. It might be in my memory somewhere... somewhere really far back. Or maybe there are tutorials on the Internet; I could always look those up while Stanley does his silly little antics.

Thank you kindly for the advice.

The Narrator

#the stanley parable #tsp #tsp narrator #tsp rp #tsp rp community #voidofstarryink

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 4 years

Note

jaune sempai au) jaune teaches pyrrha a very important lesson. never get in a fight with a guy who has infinite aura because at that point there's no winner in the fight, only a survivor. still to make up for the "loss" jaune does offer to take her out for some lunch in town.

Loss... was something that Pyrrha Nikos hadn’t experienced in a long time. For years, she’d won any fight she’d participated in. Formal tournament for glory and fame or friendly spar for training, she’d always come out on top.

And now she was on her knees on the area floor of Professor Goodwitch’s classroom completely spent and panting, her aura in the red for the first time in years, and too tired to even get up past her knees.

And the reason for this was her partner’s older brother, dressed in armor and sword drawn standing in front of her. There wasn’t a single dent in his Aura. That wasn’t because she’d been unable to hit him, she had done so dozens of times. It was because no matter how much or how fast she knocked his Aura down, he got it back up just as quickly. She’d been stunned when she saw that after ten minutes of fighting and numerous blows, Jaune Arc was still at 100% and smiling happily, just enjoying their match.

That wasn’t the only issue Pyrrha had against him. He’d also been quite a skilled fighter with just his simple sword and shield. The only blows she landed were because of her higher agility and flexibility, as well as using Milo’s rifle form. His strength had been far superior to her own, so her swordplay had simply been defensive for the most part. Then she tried going for a ring out when she noticed she couldn’t beat him with lowering his Aura, but he was almost unmovable!

Professor Goodwitch turned the lights back up and stepped into the ring. “And the victor is Jaune Arc.” The rest of the class was staring at them in shock at what they had just witnessed. The famous Invincible Girl Pyrrha Nikos hadn’t been able to do anything to faze this third year student. All she could do was get worn down and exhausted by her opponent over the course of half an hour.

Jaune sheathed his blade and collapsed his shield before walking over to her. “I have to say you have immense skill Ms. Nikos, far more than I do. However fighting me isn’t really a fair fight for most, and I realize that so I’m sorry, but I hope this can be a lesson for every student here.” Jaune looked up from Pyrrha to the stunned looks of the watching audience. “There is always going to be someone stronger than you individually, or the perfect opposite match to you. Greater strength comes in the bonds you have with those you fight with, be they your partner, your teammates, or just fellow Huntsmen. People to cover your weaknesses and have your back will always be just as important as personal strength.”

“Well said Mr. Arc, now if you would kindly leave the teaching to me.” Glynda stood with her arms crossed, a little miffed as Jaune had said almost exactly what she was going to.

Jaune chuckled awkwardly. “Hehe, sorry Professor. Did you need me for anything else today?”

“I could use another proctor to do more matches at once, but you are free to leave if you wish to.”

“Oh sure, I’ll stay and help then! No problem at all Professor. Let me just help Pyrrha to the locker rooms.” Glynda nodded and Jaune turned back to Pyrrha who was shakily trying to get to her feet. “Here let me help you.”

Pyrrha looked up to see Jaune offering his gloved hand to her. She looked past his hand and up to his face. A warm smile seemed to go perfectly with his golden hair and sapphire eyes. Pyrrha felt the world fade a bit and it was just the two of them alone together. She swallowed a little and reached out to take his hand, unaware of the heat in her face that wasn’t just from her exerting herself in their fight anymore. He was so gentle as he pulled her up to her feet and helped support her as he led her off to the locker rooms. Is this really the same man she just fought?

“Hey I’m genuinely really sorry about the whole unfair fight set up, but Professor Goodwitch asked me for my help today. Joan’s probably not gonna be too happy about me fighting her partner huh? I’ll make it up to you both though! How about I take you and your team out to lunch or something in Vale this weekend to apologize?”

Pyrrha was so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t even noticed he was still speaking to her until he asked that last question. “O-oh! S-sure. That sounds grand.” She didn’t take her eyes off his blue ones the entire time.

“Great! I’ll set it up with Joan tonight! You okay from here?”

Pyrrha wasn’t sure what he meant until she looked around and saw they were standing outside the female locker rooms. “O-oh. Yes, I believe so.” She gently pulled away from his hold and stood on her own two feet, although still shaking a bit.

“Awesome. That was seriously a great fight back there. I’d like to spar again with you sometime in the future. Well, I’ll catch you later Ms. Nikos, I gotta head back and help Professor Goodwitch. You take care now!”

Pyrrha watched Jaune’s retreating back, her face still red and her heart still pumping. She let out a soft “T-thank you” to no one before she slipped into the locker rooms.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #jaune sempai au #ask #sfw #noneatnonedotcom

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oohfluffy · 3 years

Text

TIHM Ch.23 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 5,684

chapter 23

You stretched your arms in front as you looked up at the clock hung on the wall. It was already past 2 in the afternoon, and it was the last exam for the day. You wondered if Baekhyun was done with his.

You stood up after packing your things up silently, conscious of how quiet the room was as there were still a lot of students taking their exams. You were allowed to leave as soon as you finished your exam, making you sigh in relief as it would have been boring and a waste of time if you were to stay on your seat until the last student finishes their exam.

You held your head up high as you walked at the aisle, slightly bowing at your proctor before carefully opening the backdoor. You slid the door close as silently as possible and sighed.

The hallway is empty and still as it was an hour before the bell rings. You were just an hour early from the exam's 2-hour duration. You walked slowly, appreciating the silence and lack of people in sight.

I think the exam was too easy. Unless I was too careless?! Now that I think of it, the first question was a bit tricky...

You frowned at the thought, now the exam answers sinking in. Your eyebrows knitted as you walked down the stairs. You almost let out a shriek when you felt your back vibrate. You quickly took off your backpack, and looked at it with wide eyes.

The phone.

"Ah, yes. I have a phone now." You let out a sigh incredulously. "Let's see who..."

You grabbed your phone out of the bag's pocket before wearing the backpack on again. You continued walking down with your phone on hand.

It was a text from Jiwon. She's currently having her break as she still has another exam. You read her text, not expecting news that would unsettle your heart all of a sudden.

[ I heard that the Yuna girl met with your man last weekend? I saw this article earlier, and everyone's talking about it. Gosh, no matter where I go, the bees keep on speaking of---]

As soon as you got what she was talking about, you clicked on the link she sent. You stopped in front of the lockers as you waited for the article to open. You can feel your heart thumping against your chest, and hear how deafening the sound was.

It's nothing. It should be.

"Oh, Saejin-ssi."

Hearing a familiar gentle voice calling you, you locked your phone instinctively and shoved it in your pocket. You looked back at the source, and were surprised to see Kyungsoo. He has the strap of his bag on his left shoulder, leaving the other strap hanging behind him. He must have finished his exam early too.

"Kyungsoo sunbae." You slightly bowed your head in acknowledgement.

"Baekhyun's still finishing up his practical exam. He looks so fired up though, so I bet he'll be done in a few." He said with a smile, glancing at the elevator doors nearby where he came from. "You're going home already?"

"Yes, I'll just text him on the way. He said he'll be dropping by before he goes to their company, he's talking about some meeting with his father." You remembered the conversation you had with Baekhyun earlier in the morning. For the past few days, he's been picking you up for school and driving you home, but when he has circumstances like meetings, sometimes he doesn't have enough time to drop you off.

He insisted on being late to his meetings though. I don't think his father would appreciate that. We haven't even met, but the impression he would create...

You sighed as you clenched on your locker door. Kyungsoo noticed how you expression dimmed, feeling a bit guilty for some reason.

"Well, you should rest well at home. Don't think of anything at the moment. Do you still have an exam tomorrow? It's the last day, right?" He said, his adorable eyes wandering around.

"Yes, I have one. The last exam for this term."

"Then you could focus on it later. Take a rest first, you deserve it." He smiled before walking ahead. "Goodluck for tomorrow. It's going to be fine." He patted your shoulder.

"Thank you, sunbae."

When he walked past you, you realized that he seemed like he saw through you and what was going through your mind at the moment. Did your expression give it away? There is no doubt that everyone must have seen countless news and gossip about Baekhyun and that girl. They had history, and they're both well-known in different industries.

If I were not in the picture, would things be different? Would they be together by now?

"Tss. Maybe? You know how that guy loves attention." You grumpily closed your locker after getting your last book for tomorrow's exam. "Although, he would have gone after her before if he did really like her. Ugh, how do I know that?"

Wow, Saejin, you're thinking like this already.

After having a 10-minute debate in your head with yourself, you got out of the building with a sour expression. Your hand was already itching to pull out your phone from your pocket and text Baekhyun, but something's pulling you back from doing so.

Am I sulking? Isn't this too childish? Am I supposed to feel this way after—

"Oh, I forgot to read the news Jiwon sent earlier." You mumbled as you walked past the gate. You hesitated, not wanting to read such a thing in public (because you might just want to curse out loud, and wouldn't be able to control your expressions) and carry a foul mood on the way home. "I should stop by the cafè tomorrow to give my thanks to aunt Jinah for giving me the week off for the exam week."

"Excuse me."

You moved out of the way in reflex as soon as the person spoke. You were about to continue walking when a hand grabbed your arm. You instantly looked back and cautiously grabbed your phone in your pocket.

"I'm sorry to startle you, but are you Lee Saejin-ssi?" A man with glasses asked while smiling, his padded jacket told you that he was hiding something under it. Your eyes couldn't focus as you felt your blood run cold.

"Who are you?"

I don't like it.

—

"Oi, hyung. You're not coming with us?" The youngest in the group raised his eyebrow as he watched his older friend get his things from the locker. "I thought we're going to the new club—"

"When did he even go with us after Saejin happened?" Suho smirked, patting his friend's back. "He's going home."

"Enjoy your party. I'll enjoy mine." Baekhyun grinned as he shook his phone, closing his locker afterwards. "I'll get going. See you tomorrow." He waved his hand at his other friends by the lockers before running through the hallway.

"Ah, our Baekhyunnie has grown so much."

[ Are you home already? I got stuck for a while. I promise, I did my best! Give me the reward, okay? Love you ^^ ]

Baekhyun glanced at his watch as he walked towards his car. It was just quarter to 3 in the afternoon. He went back to your past conversation, and frowned when he realized you didn't text him earlier. You're surely finished for the day as usual, but why didn't you text him?

"Baekyun-ah!"

He looked back fast as he heard his name being called, thinking it was someone—no, it wasn't. His frown could not be any more deep when he met a familiar pair of eyes.

"Oh, Irene." He nodded with blank eyes, placing his hand at his car's handle. He still didn't like being around this girl. Not only she and her girl friends made you their chaperone, she's related to that girl.

"Uhm, are you going to your company? Going home, perhaps?" Her sparkling eyes looked up at him, colored lips parting as he directly looked at her. His eyebrows knitted, kind of sensing what the girl was going to ask next after he answered the first ones.

"I have a prior engagement before going to a meeting." Baekhyun said as he glanced at his watch again. "I need to go—"

"W-Wait. Unnie..." Baekhyun let out an exasperated sigh as soon as he heard Irene spoke of the person he was expecting her to mention. "...and auntie are expecting you later for dinner. Yuna unnie has been asking you to come, but you've always rejected. I heard your parents will go as well right after your meeting, so—"

"Are they? I'll try then." He promptly said, not promising anything and at the same time, not rejecting the invitation. He gripped on the handle tighter to hint that he's in a hurry, but Irene stood her ground and spoke again.

"P-Please go. Yuna unnie feels very upset whenever you don't turn up. It wouldn't be good for..." Irene bit her lip as she noticed Baekhyun's dimming gaze. "...I hope you'll be there, oppa."

Baekhyun mindlessly nodded as he opened his car door.

"I'll be there."

As soon as he fully started his car, he maneuvered and drove away. His phone was left forgotten in his pocket as his mind was clouded with his thoughts.

He wants to get over this day as soon as possible.

[ I'm not home yet. Let's just see each other tomorrow. You did well :) ]

"I'm sorry to startle you earlier, Saejin-ssi. I'm so glad you accepted my request." The man, who introduced himself as Kang Minsoo, slightly bowed his head apologetically while clasping his hands together. You awkwardly smiled and shook your head. He's a journalist for a certain magazine, and as much as you're anxious to talk to him, you want to see what he has to offer.

"No, it's okay. I want to..." You looked down on his notebook for a second before looking up at him again. He looks like a decent man, one that looks innocent and humble, but you can't really trust looks that much, right? "...see the story clearer as well. I'll try to answer your questions as long as you answer mine."

"That's alright with me! Please feel free to speak casually, and think that we're just friends talking about each other's story." He laughs like a mad man, making you cringe slightly as you look around the place. It was a café far from the university, and you really suggested this place so that you wouldn't encounter anyone familiar while you talk with this person.

"Let's start with how you met with Byun Baekhyun-ssi."

Your breath hitched as soon as you heard his full name, probably pulling you back to reality. His name never sounded so distant before, why were you feeling this way? You said it casually always, but coming from someone you barely knew, it was different.

"We study in the same university. I met him when they played in a football game months ago, and we became..." You watched as the man scribbled on his notes with his eyes widening in anticipation. "...acquaintances."

"Okay," You disliked how he elongated the word with malice. "So you only became acquaintances after the game?"

"Yes."

"But people around the campus said that the heir—Baekhyun-ssi, was quite..." He cleared his throat before leaning in, making you lean back on your chair. "...attracted to you? You've been seen together for a lot of times—"

"Of course we became friends, and we got to know each other. Baekhyun is kind of mischievous and playful, and as you know, everyone is basically his friend."

"Well, that's a fact. He's a very sociable man, loved by everyone. So whenever rumors, the bad ones, appear, I really don't get it!" He exclaimed while pointing his pen to you. Your lips trembled as you felt like you're being ridiculed indirectly.

Oh stop, overthinking. This is not about you—

"Like him being romantically involved with another girl other than his fiance."

You heard the distaste in his voice as he said those words. His eyes were carefully observing you as he said them. He was totally trying to catch you surprised and in panic to write bullshit in his notes. Whether you say something or not, you knew he would write something ridiculous anyway.

This reporter is pushing my buttons. He sounds like he knows something already, and is just waiting for me to come out and embarrass myself so he can write something about me being the other girl.

"Baekhyun has a fiance?" You knitted your eyebrows while appearing to be confused.

Let's stick to being ignorant about these things. I'll snatch some goddamn gossip you know before you can get mine.

"Oh yes! Nam Yuna-ssi is one that he has been with in the past years. Although she went abroad for her career, they didn't really cut off their ties and still dated secretly. What's more surprising is that..." The man leaned in again as if he was going to disclose some important information.

"...they're planning to get married by next month. It seems like Yuna-ssi is pregnant." Minsoo looked around while nodding at you.

You froze, now truly dumbfounded with what you just heard.

"Surprising, right? You must be really startled upon knowing a friend close to you is becoming a father already. It's a good thing that Baekhyun-ssi is graduating in a few months, and he'll be handling the company next. I think they will conceal this news first until Yuna-ssi finishes her shoot for her new movie." He chuckled, tapping the table excitedly with his pen. "Isn't it exciting?"

Baekhyun-ah.

"Saejin-ssi?" Minsoo called, bringing you back to reality. "Was that too much information? I'm sorry for startling you again—"

"N-No, it's really okay. I was just..." You lifted the side of your lips, trying to compose yourself. You can't let this man see you break down all of a sudden. It might affect Baekhyun's reputation, and your—well, you couldn't care less about it now. Baekhyun is more important in this case. "...processing it all. Baekhyun-ah didn't really talk about that. I'm quite overwhelmed, but happy for him."

"Hmm, you could eat while I write my notes. I'm really entertained talking to you, Saejin-ssi." He laughed as he wrote in his notebook, pleased with how he was leading the whole conversation. "Baekhyun-ssi also was seen this weekend with Yuna-ssi. It's been said that they were all over each other—"

You didn't even bother listening to all his yapping as he wrote his article, and just shoved a bagel of donut in your mouth. You just mindlessly smiled, not actually tasting the sweetness of the treat on your tongue. You patted a napkin on your lips as you checked your phone for the time.

No new messages.

"Saejin-ssi, I don't mean to pry too much in your life, but this is just from what I heard when I asked around the campus." You calmly sipped from the iced tea that has gone warm already. You knew what he was going to say next. Your blood boiled as you saw his eyes twinkled and lips curling in anticipation. "They said that you were involved with a scandal, and what's worse, a friend's suicide?"

I think that is prying too much into my life, you asshole. That's it, I'm not getting anymore shit from this man.

"I don't think my life has anything to do with your agenda, Kang Minsoo-ssi." You chuckled dryly, placing your fork on the side. He raised his eyebrow at your sudden change of tone.

"You're a journalist for a well-known person, but I'm an ordinary person that has nothing to do with showbiz nor the clothing industry." You emphasized every word you said, smoothly preparing to head out as he leaned back on his seat. "I don't need to answer such insensitive inquiries as you don't need to know them."

"Oh, I was just asking for confirmation—"

"If you're a decent journalist, no matter the type of article that you are writing, you wouldn't ask things that are not related to what you came for and are very insensitive questions. Where's your manners as a journalist? We haven't even been talking for half an hour yet." You snickered.

You took a few bills out of your wallet before leaving them on the table. The man just watched as you stood up with your head high, not being able to grasp what was happening.

"Make a good article anyway."

You walked out of the café with big strides, feeling your steps becoming heavier as you walked farther away from the place. Your lips were trembling as you grasped your bag straps tighter.

The sun was unusually out of sight as the thick and dark clouds engulfed its light fully, matching how your heart was dimming and becoming more burdened. You were just so brave to say those words to that man, but you were so confused and disappointed inside. You didn't want to face it.

I didn't care about my scandal. It was the past. He could say anything he wants with it, but I know the truth. No one could take that away from me. But Baekhyun...

You halted your steps as your chest tightened.

It was just a facade—being brave and facing the past.

You are still afraid. You haven't taken a single step away from it as you keep on coming back. Despite the numerous times you felt free, you were merely giving yourself temporary appeasement because you still haven't buried the guilt you weren't supposed to carry until now.

Baekhyun-ah, I was framed and cornered. I didn't know my best friend would do that to me. I didn't kill her nor did I let myself be touched willingly. I'm not as others see me as. Please believe me.

"It's not my fault." Your voice trembled as your eyes welled up. The blurred vision comforted you, the slow drops of rain caressed your skin as people started opening their umbrellas in panic that the rain would ruin their clothes.

You mindlessly turned your palm up, catching the falling drizzles while watching them slide over your wrist. You could hear people bumping your shoulders complaining about you being a crazy woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

Can't I just stop for a while? Can't I rest? Can't I have peace for even just a second?

With tears flowing on your cheeks, the rain fell down harder and people started running towards the nearest sheds to take shelter. You didn't mind. Like the crazy woman they were talking about, you continued walking as if the weather was fine and sunny.

You were the best in pretending that everything was okay. This was easy.

You couldn't care about the phone in your pocket that kept on ringing. It was going to die in a while anyway.

"Saejin-ah! Sae-jin! Excuse me, sorry."

Your feet stopped on their own. It was a painfully familiar voice.

"Saejin-ah." You could hear his footsteps getting nearer, and his rough voice breathless. You just suddenly felt the rain stop falling against your skin, and his breath hitting the back of your head. "What are you doing? You don't have an umbrella? You're going to get sick like this."

With the heaviness of both your feelings and clothes from the rain, you slowly turned to the person who had come to save you from this demise. Just looking at his chest, you knew who he was.

What a timing. Are you playing with me, whoever you are up there?

"I knew it was you. You were walking like a zombie, and my friends were surprised when they saw you. You shouldn't be walking—"

You don't know where you found the courage to speak up, but you just seized the chance as soon as you saw it. No matter how hard it was to speak, you wanted to say it anyway.

Maybe he won't believe it, maybe he will. But I don't want to carry these things anymore.

"Oppa." You said with a weak voice. "I wasn't playing around with that senior. I never did." You felt your hands trembling as you spoke. You could see how he parted his lips in surprise. "I-I was driven into the corner, and I didn't even know how I got there, and... I was..." You sobbed uncontrollably as he pulled you closer to him.

"Calm down, Saejin. Breathe, okay? I know, I know." Hyoseop pulled you to the side, and held you against his chest as you cried. He didn't expect to see you again crying and talking about the past. He didn't want you to talk about it, not only because he knew it would hurt you, but he was too ashamed to face it again. He was too naive. "Let's go inside, I'll ask my friends to lend you a clean towel then we'll talk alone."

—

[ She hasn't replied to my texts either. I kept calling her, but it couldn't be reached. Her last text was after she finished her exam, around 2:10 pm. I'll text you when she replies. ]

Baekhyun muttered a curse, halting the person presenting, and the people buzzing around the table. He just waved his hand to let the presenter continue before scrolling back to his last messages to you.

[ I'm sorry I didn't get to stop by earlier. I needed to finish my meetings for today early since my father's urging me to go to dinner. I'll visit tomorrow, okay? ] — 15:35 pm

[ Baby, where are you? I've been calling you for the past two hours. You okay? ] — 17:35 pm

[ I'm getting worried now, please reply. I'll just finish this last two meetings, and I'll come to you wherever you are. ] — 17:36 pm

[ No, just tell me where you are and I'll go now. ] — 17:36 pm

"Sir?"

Baekhyun quickly locked his phone and placed it under the table before looking up. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat before nodding at the screen.

"Show me the catalogue briefly."

"Okay, sir."

As soon as the presenter wrapped up his presentation, Baekhyun immediately dismissed the meeting before standing up. His secretary almost lost him in the hallway, but he caught up with him. Baekhyun looked back with an impatient frown, making his secretary gulp in anxiety.

"Uhm, Mr. Byun, your father asked me to cancel the last meeting as you still have a dinner to prepare for. I'll clean up the rest of the papers at your office, so you can go ahead, sir."

"He cancelled the meeting? I still have two hours before the dinner though. What's the rush?" Baekhyun was already in a foul mood as he was both worrying about you and annoyed that he had to attend that dinner. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, and at home, safe and sound. "It's not like I need to dress up and put on make-up. I don't even need to change clothes."

"Uhm, I think you'll be going with Nam Yuna-ssi."

Baekhyun's ears perked in irritation as he faced his secretary fully.

"She's here." He stated instead of asking, knowing that his father must have planned this beforehand. His secretary flinched at Baekhyun's stern voice. It wasn't unusual, but he knew what his boss's serious voice and angry voice were. "She doesn't even have any business here. They really want to make it appear that we're as close as before, huh?"

The secretary just bowed his head as Baekhyun walked towards the elevator.

"Baekhyun-ah." Yuna greeted with a smile, but was ignored. Baekhyun just grabbed a folder from his desk, not bothering to glance at the woman standing by his couch. "I'm sorry for showing up all of a sudden."

"I don't really have a choice. Let's go." He coldly said as he opened the door for her, squeezing the small ounce of chivalry left in his system for this woman. "We don't want to be late to this dinner."

Yuna forced a smile on her face as she walked past him. She tried making small talks with the man she used to laugh with, but not even a little reaction was given. She expected this much.

Baekhyun let her follow him until they reached the entrance, where two luxurious cars were waiting. The driver nodded at him before opening the passenger seat door.

"Drive her there. I'll be driving on my own."

"Baekhyun!"

He didn't want to listen to her pleas.

Not anymore.

Baekhyun stepped on the gas and drove away from the building as fast as he could. He didn't care if Yuna would tell his father that he didn't drive for her, or that he looked like he was not driving in the right direction where the hotel was.

I can be late for a few minutes, and be reprimanded. It's all the same. But I haven't heard from Saejin for the past three hours, and I can't think straight already.

"Jiwon-ssi." Baekhyun called as he slowed down on a stoplight. He tapped his slender fingers on the wheel anxiously.

"Baekhyun! I was just about to text you."

"Did she reply?"

"Yeah, she did! I was about to call her, but it turns out she's with Hyoseop oppa. They met earlier, and she used his phone to call me. Her phone died when it rained, and she's... probably not in the best state—"

"Where's she?" Baekhyun's eyebrows furrowed as he heard the name. The name was familiar and he didn't like it.

"Uh, she's okay, and oppa's going to take her home—"

"Where the hell is she, Kim Jiwon?"

"Eurwangni Beach? I don't think—"

"Thank you." He said before hanging up. As soon as the light turned green, he drove straight with one thing in mind.

I'm coming, baby. I'll take you home.

—

You appreciated the silence as the wind danced with your messy hair. You glanced at the person walking beside you.

He has an umbrella on his left hand, while the other holds the bag where you placed the towel you used. Thankfully, the restaurant you went into had a heater. Hyoseop's friends were also very welcoming and kind, lending you a shirt and towel. They didn't have shorts or pants, but the shirt and towel were more than enough.

"Hm, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sunbae." You said in a small voice, almost whispering your words. "Thank you for listening to me as well."

"It should be me who's supposed to ask for forgiveness, Saejin-ah." He shook his head as he glanced at you with sincere eyes. "I should have listened right from the start, but I guess I was too selfish."

"You weren't selfish. You were just..." You smiled bitterly at the sea, hearing the waves trying to drown all the pain and cries you were keeping inside your heart. It was lighter now, but it was still there. "...just like everyone else. I-I already accepted that a long time ago now."

I'm not expecting to heal from the past quickly, but I'm certain that I'm moving forward. The wounds are still there, but they are healing. That's enough for me.

"Yongsun... She was a very good friend. Well, before she did that to me anyway." You nodded at yourself, pushing back all the lumps trying to form in your throat. "I forgave her before she even asked for forgiveness. I just didn't have the heart to face her again. Even her parents think that it was all my doing." You chuckled. "No one believed me, and it wasn't fine."

You glanced up at him with a smile, surprising him. His eyes widened as you showed him a smile that wasn't forced. It wasn't the brightest one, but it was pretty. You were glad.

"But it's okay now. I just had to learn the hard way on how people can be so cruel, and I only had myself to lean on when the whole world turns back on me. I had to trust myself that I can pull myself back up, and not the people around me." You looked away. "But I don't know if I could manage to do it all over again. Not with him."

You looked up at the sky that was darkening. It was probably past 6 pm already. If you didn't ask to come here, Hyoseop would have taken you home earlier. But you wanted to see the sea and take a breather before you go back.

"I'm sure he'll accept it, Saejin-ah." Hyoseop said in a gentle voice, his steps getting slower to match yours. "If he knew better, he wouldn't judge you for that. He won't make the same mistake as we did. You're a good person, and we're very stupid for not remembering that."

Your lips curled.

"I know."

"I'm really glad we had this chance to talk. I wanted to meet you again when I got back to the city. T-Thank you for talking to me again." He stuttered as he stopped walking, seeing that the end of the walk was nearby. The entrance of the beach was a few meters away. You smiled as the strands of your hair fluttered on your cheeks, making you chuckle at the mess they were making.

"Thank you as well, sunbae. This really means a lot to me." You stopped when his hand went over your cheek, making you almost lean back in surprise. "Oh."

"Sorry, your hair was almost sticking to your eyes. I must have surprised you, sorry!" He patted the side of your head quickly before stepping away, just in time when you saw a figure behind him.

"Saejin-ah."

Your mouth gaped as you recognized his voice from such a distance. He was in his black suit, the attire he mostly used when he went to meetings, and his hair was already messy unlike his gelled style as usual. He walked in big strides towards you, and his expression was as clear as the moon despite the lack of bright lights on the shore.

"Byun Baekhyun?" Hyoseop looked at the newcomer with wide eyes before looking back at you. Baekhyun frowned more as he glared at the person who seemed to know him. "You know each other?"

Before Baekhyun could open his damn mouth, you walked to him and held his hand. His mouth remained parted as he gazed at you. You didn't notice, but his expression was relaxed and relieved as soon as he felt your warmth on his.

"Sunbae, let's meet again. Thank you so much for your time. I think I need to go home now, so I'll talk to you soon." You slightly bowed at him before tugging your man away from him. Baekhyun was silent as he followed your lead, letting you drag him away from the place that could have been a crime scene.

Baekhyun's car was easily seen as he parked it quite abnormally on the sidewalk. You sighed in disappointment as he didn't even turn off the car, leaving the keys inside. You looked at him with your eyebrows raised, but only responded with a shrug.

He held your hand tighter before leading you to the passenger seat.

"I should be the one who should be questioning you, young lady. Get in, and we'll talk."

"I'm telling you, I just met someone prior, but Hyoseop sunbaenim..." You looked away as he was focusing too much on your eyes, as if he could detect lies if he stared at them too much. "...I bumped into him—."

"Nah, you're lying. I need to thoroughly question you, baby. Get inside."

I'm not sure about this, but he knows me too well now. I can't escape.

Not that I want to.

"Okay, question me all you want, baby." You mumbled unconsciously, stretching the seatbelt with a smile. Baekhyun couldn't wait, and went for it.

Tilting your head gently towards him, he caught your lips with his eyes closed. You don't know, but your response was automatic and instinctive. With his cold hands over your cheeks, your arms went around his neck affectionately.

It was like you were finally breathing again.

Nibbling on your lower lip, he nuzzled his nose against yours sweetly. You took your time sliding your fingers on his nape up to the back of his head, scratching his scalp gently. He inhaled your scent as he pecked your lips again and again.

"Please don't disappear just like that. You worried me, baby." Baekhyun whispered against your lips as he let you lean more towards him. The passenger seat door was opened and he must have been tired bending his back to reach you. "I would go crazy."

"Sorry, I was just lost and I needed to think. I don't want to face you unprepared."

"Hmm?" His cute eyebrows furrowed once again as you looked at him lovingly. He still had your face in his hands, slightly caressing. "Unprepared? Why?"

"Hmm, do you want to talk about it tomorrow—"

"Are you comfortable talking about whatever it is later?" He asked, surprising you. "We can talk whenever you want." Baekhyun said with finality before kissing your lips again.

"I'll be fine. Let's talk about it later at home then." You smiled before pecking his lips back. Better now than later.

Let's do it while I still have the courage to talk.

"If we keep on going, I don't think we can go home tonight." Baekhyun mumbled as he nuzzled on your neck. You pinched his shoulder as he started kissing the length of your neck.

"What?" You laughed as Baekhyun pulled away with a smirk. "Too hard, huh?"

"It is." He winked before closing the door. You leaned back on your seat with a smile, chest finally lighter.

You're talking to him in a few. About yourself. About your past. About your wounds that have yet to heal.

And you're going to be fine.

—

A/N: Praying that you’re safe and sound as you read this. I hope I kind of quenched your thirst with the 5.5k+ words I have squeezed out of my brain. I wanted the chapter to be full of my love, and of course the plot (let's not forget that). ENJOY IT! I'll be updating soon again. It's my goal to finish the story within June, so please pray for my braincells again 😭💕 and pls comment ur feels so i’ll know if everything’s good or nah :>

Tagging my loves: ❤

*Still not sure why the last people can’t be tagged 😭

—

♫ Ch.24

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

Text

“An Unexpected Motivator” Elder Maxson x SoSu (NSFT//Blow Job)

"Come on Arthur, you better get those files sorted out. Hate to see old Proctor Quinlan get upset.."

Oh how he'd wish he had the ability to make you shut up right about now. You see, being the Elder and all meant that your dearest love hardly ever had time to devote to being..well..your's. Come to think of it, you barely had the time to do much more than fall into a now shared bed- your own duties as Sentinel entailing you being the second best thing to the Elder himself.

But that wasn't the case now- at least not on your convenient "off day" so to speak. Alas, the blue eyed man in front of you couldn't be afforded the ability to share in this rare moment of peace, not officially at least. As such, he had spent the greater half of three hours furiously typing away at his terminal- responding to who knew what and who...but there was a catch.

You knew how to play your cards right with Arthur.

Instead of leaving well enough alone, you had spent a good bit of this time sneaking the occasional kisses..which then turned to lingering touches, then to your hands wandering and pushing his heavy coat off his shoulders..until eventually you found yourself at your current position. Instead of leaving well enough alone and taking satisfaction in his returned kisses, you had evidently sunk down to your knees underneath his desk, unzipped his flight suit and his then flaccid cock from his briefs. Of course, the dutiful elder had given you a perplexed look- stammering out something of a "Cease this-" and a "what do you think your doing?", his eyes holding that ignition of amusement you knew so well.

However all thoughts of protesting any further vanished the second you started pressing tiny kitten licks to his cock, causing him to gasp just seconds before you used your devilish mouth to work him into a painfully hard erect state. Such had been the manner of your torture for minutes now, wait until he got the gumption to type- only to take him into your mouth once more, being sure to give him the "look" whenever he sought to reprimand you for doing such things. How he hadn't just had enough and grabbed a fistful of hair and fucked your mouth? You hadn't the slightest clue- but then again, Arthur wasn't the type to do that..even when you were blatantly screwing with him to get a reaction.

Much to your disappointment, Maxson didn't budge. Typing when he wasn't moaning, glassy eyes trying to desperately stay fixed upon the sickly green glow of the screen in front of him. So, that's when you decided to pull al the stops and go straight for the end.

Only giving a chuckle as a warning, you suddenly sped up your ministrations- doing everything from deep throating, sucking, licking, kissing, stroking, and even gentle biting- just to make him cum.

And when he did- oh you were in for some well deserved punishment. Even with his cum now painting your face and chest, Maxson pushed his rolling chair back and grabbed you like a ragdoll, pushing you against him for a rough kiss.

Perhaps you should distract him more often.

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #elder maxson #fallout drabbles #fallout writing #arthur maxson #elder maxson x reader #nsft

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headingalaxys-spicy · 3 years

Text

Yandere ! America X Reader x Britain p.3 America End

You woke up in an absolute blur. Your head was fuzzy and your vision was still unable to focus.

Your eyes were open but it was as if your vision was filled with the static from a TV screen that no longer was connected to any service. You close your eyes again for a few more moments to realize that you were in an extremely plush bed that was not your own.

You were not home.

Panic again begins to build in your chest as the heat began to fill your head and chest. You try to move your limbs but to no avail. You were able to move your fingers slightly but not so much. This is when you began to realize that both of your arms were chained together to a fancy carved wooden bed frame.

You took in a few deep breaths to try and remember how you got into this predicament in the first place. You faintly remember hearing the words: “It’s time you got with the program (y/n), as my darling.” from Jones that stated milliseconds before you blackout.

“Oh, right I’m screwed.” You say to no one while your eyes were still closed.

“Not yet at least.” You hear the American say from a different point in the room. “We still haven’t talked about what we’re going to do for your training to be the perfect Class S darling for me. Since I’m not handing you to one of those lazy elites I’ll be in charge of training you myself along with a few others who will oversee your transformation into a proper house darling. And now that you are conscious but still drugged and spellbound to the nines. We won’t be doing any of that today.” You hear his footsteps come closer to the bed you laid on. As he picked up what sounded just heavy enough to be a chair and set it close proximity to the bed. He sits and stared at your incapacitated form.

“So tell me. How did you fool some of our test proctors into believing that you were an Alpha and not a Darling? I want to know every intricate detail of how your powers work.” Obliviously he was intent on being able to learn how you function to meet his nefarious needs.

Still, in a haze, you don’t answer him. Nor do you really even have the strength to open your eyes. But you do manage to mumble out the words. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Fine. But prepare yourself tomorrow. I’m going to destroy any attachment you have to the outside world.” He says tauntingly. “And I’ll get the satisfaction from seeing where you really should be putting your priorities.” He stands from his chair and leaves the room leaving you to ruminate on what he means by that. Since your mind is still fogged by drugs and incantations you just fall back to the darkness.

*************

By 7 am you were awoken by some of Alfred’s maids to get you dressed for the day. And to have another containment spell cast on you so that you remained in a weakened state unable to do anything more than walk and speak. Your strength is completely sapped and at this point likely never to be returned to you.

Your mind is 80% clear at this point you are able to process your thoughts again and think about whats happened to you in the past 48 hours. You still to an extent refuse to believe what is happening to you. Nonetheless, you allow his maids to dress you in a stylish gown.

“What in the world is this man planning?” You think to yourself.

“(Name) Master Jones has requested that you be downstairs in 5 minutes for breakfast he has an important announcement for you.” One of his maids calls to you. You hesitate but you put your shoes on that were ever so graciously provided by your current captor and slink downstairs.

When you reach the grand dining room you’re greeted by the sight of Alfred tapping his fingers in a rhythmic fashion as he repositions his gaze onto you. His ocean blue eyes almost seem innocent for a moment and mesmerizing until you think again that this man stomped into your shop and -

“You must be wondering what kind of day you’re in for (Name) well I’ll be blunt. Today is the day that I become the owner of your coffee shop and….” He pulls out a few legal documents that are the lease to the modern apartment you were living in before this mess. He uses the flicker of his wrist and creates fire and sets it onto the documents. “You no longer have your apartment you will be living with me from this day forward. After all, my mansion is better than you’re apartment anyways. Proving that I am a good match for you. I can provide so long as you listen and behave like a good darling.”

Your mind freezes. You have no idea how to comprehend the event that has just happened to you. All of that hard work into honing your skills to still in the end… be captured by one of the elites. To still become a slave to their desires. All of those years of-

“So, (Name) you goin’ to eat? After all, we have a long day ahead of us. I’m going to take pleasure in making sure everyone knows that you’re mine and that you’re not an Alpha. I have to destroy that illusion that you created for yourself. I hate to admit but you did a pretty decent job in fooling all those around you and others who knew you mutually.”

Your life is no longer yours.

*************

There were cameras everywhere and people Alpha’s, Beta’s, Omega’s, Darlings the entire spectrum of people who wanted to know what was going on in the life of the Global Superpowers’ life and that he now has a darling after expressing that he never wanted one.

“Master Jones! You have a darling? I thought that wasn’t something you wanted what changed your mind?!” A reporter shouts in your general direction.

“Is there going to be a posh wedding that we all should be expecting soon?” Another reporter beckons.

“What a lovely darling. I’ve never seen an S-Class before in real life. They have such enchanting beauty.” You overhear someone gush in the crowd that surrounded you.

“I want an S-Class too!”

All the commotion for you and Alfred was beginning to be a sensory overload. All the flashing cameras that were trying to obtain the best picture of the two of you to announce your inevitable engagement. You just needed to be a quiet place to be in while Alfred was enjoying every moment of it. All you were really able to do was cling to his arm. You weren’t used to having this type of attention on you nor did you enjoy it. You wanted your simple life back. Where you were in control. Sadly that reality has faded forever.

You two walk into the recording studio where Alfred was to announce to the entire world that you were his and his alone.

He sits down on a throne-type chair embellished in gold, flowers, birds, and butterflies. He has you sit on his lap.

“Be ready in 30 seconds you two!” The head director tells the two of you. “And make sure you smile (name) this is the best day of your life. Getting engaged to the most powerful man in the world.” You grimace at those words trying to imagine that this is all a dream and that you’ll wake up in time for work. To make yourself a pleasant cup of coffee, or a latte, or-

Alfred slides his hand up your spine and puts another hand on your waist to bring you closer in his lap just so you can feel his aura and body heat and his Florida. You can tell where your excess energy has been going. He’s been sapping you of your magic and taking it for himself. Meaning you might be an S-Class but you’ll only have the ability to be beautiful without any of the substance. And he can now change you to whatever his will may be.

“Smile (Name) life is now a pleasant dream with your Hero~”

“Rolling!” The recording cameras start and broadcast the end of your freedom to the entire world.

#the hell did i just write #hetalia world stars #yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #x reader #yandere america #yandere

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