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siconetribal · 1 year ago

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Beyond the Bookshelves (1)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, work stress, impossible tasks

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: I honestly do not know where this is going and why I even started this. It was an idea that sort of popped into my head while at work. I hope you enjoy it! Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

Papers fluttered to the ground around Loki as stared down at the young woman who ran into him. He cocked an eyebrow as he heard a low hiss of pain come from her gritted teeth. The impact could not have been that painful, but how was he to know? He was minding his own business, walking down the fairly empty hallway reading a book when something had come crashing into him. It was not the first time he had been assaulted, but it was certainly the first time to be tackled in the middle of an empty hallway. Glancing around, he noticed there were a few people lingering about, watching to see what he would do or see what transpired.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her voice drew his attention back down to the ground to see her on her knees trying to gather the scattered sheets of paper. He slid his right foot back as she reached for one near it.

“You are excused,” he responded in a level tone that held little emotion, if any at all. She looked up at him in wide-eyed shock which had him raise an eyebrow yet again at her. He hesitated for a moment to speak, feeling the eyes on them.

“Is there something else you wish to say?”

“Huh? Oh, no, just surprised to hear you say anything. I’ve never heard you speak before, so I thought that maybe you couldn’t.” She admitted, tapping the bottom edge of the sheets to make the pile more uniform. “You have a nice voice.” She added, carefully inspecting the surrounding area, oblivious to the bewildered look of the prince before her. “Ah-ha!” She grinned, crawling forward and reaching between his feet. Startled by her actions, Loki quickly took a few steps backward, leaving a noticeable shoe print on the paper she had been reaching for. “Thank you, this was the last one I needed.” She smiled at him, though when she saw the print, her lips quickly curled downwards into a noticeable frown. “That’s not good, Fury’s not gonna be happy.” She mumbled, carefully placing the dirtied sheet on the top as she stood up with her sizable stack of folders and binders in her arms. “Well, it was a pleasure speaking to you, Mr. Loki, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

He watched as she casually resumed her walk down the hallway, unperturbed by the fact that she had just walked straight into him, Loki, the monster that had wreaked havoc in the world and destroyed their precious city. The very city they were currently in now. What an odd Midgardian, but I suppose this would be the place to find plenty of odd ones. He turned to look at some spectators and watched them visibly flinch or stumble as they met his gaze, scrambling to leave the vicinity and get away from here, away from him. Opening his book once more, he continued on his way towards his destination.

Just as she had anticipated, Fury was not pleased with the surprise print on one of the report pages. He looked between it and her in silence, sliding the packet across his desk in her direction as he leaned back and turned his chair slightly.

“Mind telling me why you suddenly decided to decorate such a vital report with a shoe?”

“It was an accident, sir. While on my way here, I was reviewing the content and ended up crashing into someone on the way. They unintentionally stepped on the sheet while trying to avoid the others. I didn’t have time to reprint the documents prior to this meeting. I will be submitting a clean copy into the record and have this one shredded.”

“I’ll let it slide this time only. Next time, watch where you’re walking and leave reviewing for when you’re at a desk. Everything looks to be in order, reprint and file it.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll have it done right away.” She bowed her head and picked up the report.

“Don’t let this happen again.” He sternly remarked. “The next time it does, you’ll have to deal with the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” Y/N nodded. “The next item for discussion is the transition of all physical resources into digital. I do understand that many have requested that all resources be scanned and made digital, but that task is a lot larger than many realize. Also, not all of our sources are safe to scan due to age or they need to be translated and checked prior to scanning. It is not impossible, but a sizable team would be needed in order to have it completed. I propose that the physical sources we have are properly cataloged and organized so they are easier to be found. We can have them scanned in the process, but again, we run into the issues of needing to translate and verify that the translations are correct.”

“Y/N, just get to the fucking point. Can it be done?” Fury cut her off, looking at her pointedly with his good eye.

“In an ideal situation, yes.” She let out a small sigh.

“And what is an ‘ideal situation’?”

“A team of at least five agents per letter, several translators for the various languages we have to make sure we have them properly translated, and a warehouse filled with scanners and computers to scan, name, and upload. With such a team and ideal conditions always, it could take about five to ten years to complete.”

“Oh just that?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his frown more pronounced than usual. Y/N knew he was not pleased with her answer, but there was no use in trying to make it lighter than it really was. They had an extensive library in house and warehouses of delicate and confidential artifacts, which included tomes and scrolls. She was the head librarian and managed all of this with only a handful of others spread across the various locations.

“Ideally, yes.”

“And if it wasn’t ideal?”

“Depends on what factors are not present, but without those minimum requirements it could take decades.”

“But it can be done.” He flatly responded, sitting forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the desk. “We won’t destroy any of the physical resources, but you’ll have to make do with what you get. We don’t have the luxury of just handing over a slew of agents for this. We need boots on the ground globally to keep an eye out on things out there bigger than us.” A weight suddenly dropped in the pit of her stomach. Though she was not expecting anything close to what she listed as an ideal, there was something in his tone that screamed out that she was going to hear the worst case scenario.

“And what would I get to work with?” She managed to keep her voice steady.

“State-of-the-art technology per library staff member per location and a god.”

Silence fell over them as she stood there, slowly blinking at her superior. This had to be some sort of sick joke. She knew the organization could not give what was needed, but this? This was hardly anything at all.

“I’m sorry, did you just say new computers and a god?”

“That’s what I said.” He nodded his head.

“You must be joking, right? This task would take more than just decades to do, and what does ‘a god’ even mean? A ‘god’ per person or location, or just one god? And what sort of ‘god’ Do you just have deities on demand or something? Are they just going to snap their fingers and things will be done magically? What can they do for me and this lifelong assignment I have now been tasked with?” She paced in front of his desk, muttering to herself on how this could work and what sort of person this ‘god’ was. He cannot be serious, right? But Fury isn’t the type to just say shit or joke around. She turned and looked at her boss. No, not a joker. She frowned.

“Y/N, calm down. We’ve got two Asgardian gods that have a knack for understanding all languages. You don’t need a team of translators when they can do it on the spot just like that.” His sharp tone made her stop and turn to face him. “So that whole crap can be cut, and you can work with one of them to get all this done faster with fewer people and just get to organizing shit. You’re getting what you get, end of discussion. Anything else?”

“No sir,” she sighed and shook her head.

“Good, I’ll get Agent Hill to talk to them and reach out to you. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” She slightly bowed her head and left the office, her shoulders dropping the moment the door closed behind her. This was not going to be easy.

Tag list: @vbecker10

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gremlinpenguin · 5 months ago

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Some semi-coherent analysis threads bc my dumb ass needs bullet points to stay organized:

—SEASON FINALE SPOILERS BELOW!!!—

I’ve been dissecting some of allegorical elements of the story- I’m not sure if these are intended or even completely accurate to the story, just my interpretation of how every single narrative element potentially ties together, which is insanely impressive. Some of these are speculations or extrappolations; it’s hard to confirm some things until we know Buddy’s backstory, but this is based on his statement that he’s “never been the hero in any story, not even his own” (AAHHAHAHLSJHSKHSSKJ)

Sorry if some of these thoughts make no sense feel free to me for clarification lol, and I might be repeating things that have been said before but idk. And if i quote anything then I pulled it from the finale

BUT THE WHOLE STORY WORLD IS A METAPHOR FOR ROLES, CONVENTIONS, AND BREAKING EXPECTATIONS

The stories and their roles parallel the characters’ interiority

- chase is defiant of his role

- Buddy believes that his role defines him

- “What the stories want” > the characters wanting to break out of their roles

“Maybe this isn’t the ending that was supposed to happen” > DEVELOPMENT

- difference between who we are vs. who we think we are

- Think we’re “supposed to turn out” one way according to roles

- World where hero <3 villain = breaking conventions and expectations

- Ties in with the roles were given

“Our roles are gone, the world is gone, but we’re still here”

- we are our cores, not the roles we’re assigned

- The world cannot change who you truly are

- The world/roles getting destroyed = allowed them to be themselves

- Buddy became the hero

- Chase showed his vulnerability

Character complexity: buddy is and isn’t a “hero”

- there is no black and white answer

- He’s a complex person who made mistakes that he deeply regrets

- At the same time, he never caused any physical harm to chase- and when he did, he was instantly remorseful

If you think about buddy’s perspective, he fits the role of a hero

- in a bad situation

- Needs something to fix that situation

- Someone is in his way of achieving that goal for what he’s been trained to believe are selfish reasons

BUT THE METAPHORICAL PARTS!!!

Every storybook fantasy world was fake

- literally the entire setting wasn’t real

- The whole story is a giant metaphor

- Roles in stories = roles we think we fit into

- How roles inhibit you from who you really are

We can all be heroes or villains, regardless of what role we’re given

- chase defies his role as a kid who can’t go to college and needs to make money > still dreams big despite the hand he’s been dealt

“Stories just want an ending even if it’s not the one you’d expect”

- direct metaphor- ppl want to be themselves regardless of their roles

- You can’t control who someone is going to be

- All that matters is that they like themself, no matter what they expected

- They want to be enjoyed > people just want to live

The story ending = just living regardless of roles

- the stories are all fake but a direct parallel to the human personality

- We put up walls and fake facades to hide what we actually are/want

- The roles don’t matter as long as we just live

- Roles are put in place to try and create smoothness/structure

- we confine ourselves into fantasy book roles - ie deacon being the helper - without realizing that we have full power to get out of those

- We tell ourselves stories of what’s real/what we’re capable of

-the stories themselves are confining to the multi dimensional nature of human possibility

And Chase was literally invented to defy the stereotypical isekai tropes. Every character is strongly defiant of what someone might expect a stereotypical hero, villain, and sidekick to be- they’re so much richer, they all have motives and desires. And they each want to feel like “the hero” but it’s so far out of their grasps. The storybooks set an expectation of what a hero is - by literally fitting people into roles - I mean come on how much more symbolic can it get than literally ASSIGNING ROLES with the keys - but they all have a complex idea of how “being a hero” fits into their lives.

But as silver said, people love the hero because they tried- and Chase, buddy, and deacon are all trying so hard to find peace in their lives.

Back to the finale-

All the story wants is a true loves kiss > it just wants them to be themselves

- love is love lol

- Roles don’t matter, you matter

Roles > chase never fit into his role

- strong foil for buddy, who fully defined himself by his role

- Chase believed he could choose his role regardless of what life gave him

Chase is all about breaking conventions and doing the impossible

- Embodiment of unconventionality

- First to break out of role/callous hero expectation

Buddy is the embodiment of surrendering to his role

- letting it control him through fear and low self-esteem

- Surrendered to his role because he feels like a villain irl

Something always goes wrong in the stories- people are not meant to fit into roles

- chase defying the stories = rebelling against societal roles and expectations

- Buddy being a stickler for accuracy- he doesn’t know how to escape his role

“Our roles are gone, the world is gone, but we’re still here”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHSJDKFKSDJFHSKSKSJFJSJSHAHDJGKKSJAHSHDHD

- BIG HEALING MOMENT BC NOTHING IS THERE TO CONFINE BUDDY AKA HIS BELIEF SYSTEM THAT TELLS HIM HES THE VILLAIN HES LITERALLY SHEDDING HIS ROLE BC THE WORLD HAS BEEN DESTROYED SO THEIR ROLES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED TOO AAAAHHH THIS QUOTE NEEDS TO PAY RENT BC ITS SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME IN MY HEAD

- I mean come on. Yes I am a simp for metaphorical apocalypses but THIS. THEIR ROLES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. THE TWO OF THEM ARE LITERALYYYY ALL THATS LEFT

anygay

Dreams by night episode-

- the hero’s dreams come true- but not really

- In real life, your happily ever after doesn’t always happen

- The coffin: Buddy is mentally trapped in his villain role

- He doesn’t know how to get out

- The coffin is an emotional box that he’s stuck in

- Doesn’t believe he could be anything but the villain

- Buddy’s dream could be a flashback

- Blood on his clothes- possibly had to fight other “contestants”

- I think buddy was pit against other ppl but there was one who he really cared about and let down

- He’s definitely missing someone in his life who’s no longer here

- Fighting could have convinced him he was the villain

- Or failing to save the person he cared about

- Could have made him think he’s selfish = villain

- Or survivors guilt

- Mirror = reflection of himself

- Sees chase in his reflection = sees the part of him that he knows isn’t a villain

- Chase is making him believe that he could be good/worthy of kindness and love

- Chase symbolizes the part of himself that’s fighting to break out of his villain role

- Chase gives him hope

- Not even fully aware of his internal journey

- Chase is so clearly a fresh and new viewpoint in his life

- Surprised bc he hasn’t been cared for like that before

- “This is how it has to be” - he cannot break out of his villain role

- It’s been so deeply ingrained in him

- He doesn’t think there’s any way out

- Mirror is dark > conforming to the darkness of his role

Buddy was never the bad guy > he has a very strong motivation for getting the keys back, aka turning human again

- he never lied to chase

- He helped chase finish the stories

- He told him that he needed the keys back and Chase refused

- His pranks were only ways to accomplish his goal

- Trying to get chase’s location in beach boys > couldn’t comprehend why Chase would be genuine

- Used to humans being manipulative and unkind

- Why should he think Chase is any different?

Buddy has never done something outwardly bad and not apologized for it

- so fast to apologize when he cut chase’s face

- He’s aware of the line between good and bad

He never fights back when people attack him

- Just accepts all the bad things that happen to him

- Doesn’t try to stop people from hurting him

Both buddy and Chase have done “good” and “bad” things but Buddy has never had bad motivation

- all his motivation was in self-defense

- Chase also triggers him in many ways

- Reacting to his own past through his experience with Chase

Buddy doesn’t get <that> upset with Chase when he finds out about the key - “you think I’d kidnap a poor child?”

- he’s aware of others’ perceptions of him

- The fact that he doesn’t seem super betrayed or disappointed is even sadder

- “Why would anyone think that I’m good/trust me”

- Matches his original expectations and views of himself

- Probably felt like Chase was too good to be true

- He’s used to humans betraying him

- Chase lying = affirmation that his belief system is correct

Why buddy is kinda mean to chase at first- he thinks he’s the same as the ex libris guys

- Thinks chase is making selfish wishes

- Associates him with the people who (presumably) abused buddy to get their wish

- He sees chase as a threat

Chase is threat = have to fight back

- his pranks on Chase are meant to tire him out but also to look stronger

- Insulting Chase over his weaknesses = trying to be the tougher guy

- Literally boxed and suppressed

- Matches his need to be in control of situations

- Needs everything to go the right way > triggered by his helplessness irl

main reason why he’s mean to chase- thinks chase is privileged in the ways he’s not

- calls him a brat- oblivious, doesnt think he’s suffered

- thinks chase is just playing around, which buddy can’t afford to do

chase triggers one of his deepest insecurities- having what buddy doesn’t (or so he thinks)

- don’t know buddys backstory but it has a lot less kindness/goodness

- jealous of chase but also resentful of his attitude (initially)

why buddy messes with chase - he’s a pretty big attention seeker

- he gets annoyed when deacon is around

- wants his “rivalry” with chase all to himself

- attention seeking = byproduct of surroundings

- given a lack of positive attention

punko confirmed that buddy is lazy > lack of motivation

- people without love/support can lack motivation to accomplish things

- buddy is mistreated > no reason to strive for what he wants

- Could possibly feel undeserving

- Especially if he failed to save someone he cared about

- “laziness” is interloped with symptoms of depression

Chase uses the stories as escapism

- his real life is much harder

- Mom is sick, family judges him for not having a corporate job

Buddy insulting his voice on the heels of his visits to the aunt and uncle’s house- OUCH

- chase is so strong fr I’d prolly react more like franny

Buddy starts saving chase / being the hero after beach boys

- sick day- saves deacon and brings chase to safety

- Jailer- rescues chase from creepy guy

- Still waters- saves chase’s and everyone else’s lives

That’s all I have now! I love dissecting stories and picking them apart, but oh my freaking god the storytelling in this webtoon is next-next-tier. I’m just stunned at how incredibly detailed the characters are and how every scene is packed with subtext and emotion- funny moments, sad ones, heart wrenching ones, devastating but hopeful ones. I’ve been trying to find what makes Chase + buddy’s dynamic so strong between characterization, internal conflict, belief systems, behavior, backstory, etc. and I’m sure it all comes down to punko’s imagination and her unfettered love for the story. But if you’re a chronic overthinker and obsessive analyzer like me I’d looooove to hear your thoughts, theories, analyses, or anything at all!! Especially about the dreams by night episode IM GONNA CRACK THE CODE I KNOW I WILL

#cinderella boy #cinderella boy webtoon #stargoth #chase cinderella boy #chase hollow #buddy cinderella boy #cinderellaboy #cinderella boy punko #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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a-bottle-of-tyelenol · 4 months ago

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agere aizawa shouta headcanons !!

— requested by anon —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

🖤 - shouta is a flip with no particular lean and it’s actually really difficult to tell when he’s regressed. he doesn’t talk differently, nor does he really act any differently. he’s self-sufficient and able to do grown up things by himself, which means most of shouta’s regression is purely internal with how he thinks and views things. he’s softer, more open and wanting of affection, and he’s a little less socially aware (typically, he knows the social rules and just disregards them because they’re irrational and pointless. when he’s small, however, he just genuinely misses or forgets them).

🖤 - a fair bit of his regression is rather atypical to what most people would picture. he doesn’t have much interest in childish activities, like coloring or watching cartoons, and he doesn’t have much in terms of gear either. all he really needs is his caregiver, usually hizashi or nemuri, and a cat— either real or in the form of his stuffed one. he does enjoy cuddles and bubble baths, though, and he likes being hizashi’s little helper; sometimes helping grade simpler english assignments and putting stickers on the ones that do well, and other times helping him put stuff in the cart at the grocery store.

🖤 - napping is an absolute must. a lot of shouta’s little time comes from how overworked he is and his brain forcing him to take some time to himself. he likes curling up in a dark corner, away from everyone and everything, and sleeping until someone wakes him. he can’t drive, regardless of how big he is, so he likes when his caregiver sets him up in the back seat and drives around, letting him nap with the quiet rumble of a car and the radio turned down low.

🖤 - he refuses to regress around the kids but sometimes it’s not really his choice. he has multiple systems set in place just in case he’s having a bad day or his brain decides to regress randomly, as it often does when he gets too comfortable. this especially becomes the case when he starts training shinsou and eri gets taken into his care. he’s a chronic compartmentalizer, just like hizashi is, and does his best to keep things as separated as possible.

🖤 - he actually doesn’t like coffee that much and only drinks it for the benefits it gives him. when he’s small, however, he refuses it entirely because it’s gross. he does drink tea, though. one time, nedzu let him hide in the principal’s office because he was regressing at work and the rat thought it very funny to give him his tea cooled down in a sippy cup. shouta nearly quit that day, but he still has the sippy cup on the highest shelf in his kitchen.

🖤 - he likes wearing fuzzy socks when he’s small, always grabbing random ones and wearing them mismatched because he can’t be bothered to find the right pairs. he just likes being comfortable in socks, sweats, and a baggy hoodie (he likes heavier ones because the weight is comforting).

🖤 - he also likes when people do his hair. shouta normally just does the bare minimum with it, keeping it healthy and functional over stylish, and that usually leaves it untangled but still messy and frizzy. he finds himself at his youngest when someone is running their hands through his hair, playing with it or braiding it or washing it during a bath. it’s probably the closest he gets to regressing “normally” (there is no normal way, but you get the point).

🖤 - overall, his regression is heavily used as a means to cope with his past traumas (including how they physically manifest as chronic pain), and he’s just a quiet kid that needs a little more attention than normal. he tries not to bother people because he believes he can handle things on his own, but his friends love him and love taking care of him <3

#my post #my headcanons #agere #mha #mha agere #agere headcanons #agere community #agere fandom #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #eraserhead #age regression

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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

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Congrats on 1k! 💙 hopefully I'm not late with this? My request is Oberyn + 'if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous.' Anything but angst 🫢

I felt inspired by this one 😌💕 (2.2K of fluff and a sprinkle of some suggestive content but nothing graphic)

Thank you so much darling for requesting!! 🥰💗 I was thrilled when I saw two oberyn asks in my inbox idk why but I love writing for him! Sorry for the wait and I hope you'll enjoy it. Love you!! 💙

Oberyn always said that he did not wish to commit to any serious relationship, for in his mind it equaled to being trapped. But then he met, and eventually married, you – and his beliefs altered slightly. The love you two shared was incomparable to anything else he ever experienced and now there was no doubt in his mind that his whole being belonged to you and you alone. And it was the most wondrous feeling.

It didn’t mean, however, that there was no room in your lives and bed for other people. Especially if they were there to give his gorgeous wife an infinite amount of pleasure.

Oberyn never wanted to unconsciously push you to do anything you weren’t set on doing and the most important thing for him was to make it abundantly clear that his love was reserved only for you. The many beautiful people he occasionally invited to your shared chambers (with your knowledge, of course) were there only to enhance your and his physical pleasure.

He never felt jealousy toward any of them and always made sure your comfort came before anything else so you wouldn’t have to endure this bitter, poisonous feeling, either. And for months, everything was perfect.

But then something changed. All of it happened because of Jorral.

He was one of the helpers in the palace, tall and handsome, with skin smoother than silk. Oberyn assigned him as your personal servant a long time ago to cater to your every need whenever he wasn’t by your side or was summoned by his brother, but he was never worried about leaving you with another man. You were safe in the palace, after all, and the Prince trusted you completely, so the thought of something happening never even crossed his mind.

But then, after seeing how attentive Jorral was to your comfort, he had the bright idea to invite the servant to your bedroom so that they could both give you pleasure a man with only two hands and one tongue wouldn’t be able to. And you loved it. Oberyn loved it, too, of course – seeing you being worshiped by others in the way you deserved always gave him a sense of pride and happiness that he was able to provide it for you.

But even though it was a one-time occurrence, the interaction between you and Jorral shifted significantly.

None of this was your fault, Oberyn understood. He knew you long enough to realize that so very often you weren’t even aware of being flirted with – a fact he experienced first-hand when he was courting you, and one which Jorral seemed to abuse. Leaving flowers in your room and bringing you your favorite sweets between meals was alright – after all, the Prince of Dorne ordered it long before your wedding. But touching you, making up excuses to be alone with you and sitting way too close when Oberyn wasn’t present was somehow way too much.

A vile poison of unknown origin entered his veins and Oberyn Martell was no longer acting like himself. He didn’t know what was happening, and his mind was clouded by the consuming desire to have you as close as possible whenever there was another person nearby. It was an odd feeling for him. Foreign. He never experienced such compulsion before, the need to flaunt the proof of your marital union in front of everyone.

For weeks now he tried to restrain himself against such behavior. It was your choice who you spent your free time with and he’d be a hypocrite if he started to scrutinize everyone you wanted to be close to.

But he realized he didn’t have any problem with other people. It was just Jorral.

One afternoon, he wandered along the water gardens, knowing you’ll probably be here at this time of the day. He tried to get the thoughts of Jorral out of his mind, of the flirtatious smile he directed at you before Oberyn had to leave for a meeting. He reminded himself over and over again that it didn’t bother him and that it didn’t even mean anything when it was him you were married to.

Then, he heard your soft laugh on the other side of a tall hedge, beautiful like twinkling windchimes on the breeze, and all tension left his body – but only for a split second. Because the voice that answered you belonged to your personal servant.

Quietly as a viper, Oberyn went around the wall of green to where you were standing – and indeed there you were, with your back to him and Jorral standing in front of you, touching your forearm. The servant’s eyes darted to Oberyn and he immediately withdrew his hand, but before he could alert you of the Prince’s presence, he took a long stride and snaked his arms around your waist.

“My flower,” he murmured into your temple with a smile, pressing your back closer to his chest when you gasped, startled.

“Oberyn,” you breathed with relief when you finally noticed him. You placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart, but your body was already relaxing in his hold. “Gods, you scared me to death.”

“Apologies,” he said in a raspy voice as his lips latched onto your neck in a tender manner. “My heart was calling for you. I couldn’t wait to have my sweet wife back in my arms.”

You smiled and leaned against him as he whispered words of poetry in your ear. Your hands covered his, wrapped around your waist, and your eyes closed in pleasure as he kissed your neck again and again – completely oblivious to the dark look your Prince was giving Jorral. “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long.”

“You’re here now.” You tilted your head, laying it on his shoulder so that you could see him. Oberyn smiled brightly when you lifted one of his hands to your lips and kissed his fingers, but it wasn’t just because of his wife’s affections – his eyes flickered to the man standing next to you, making sure that he’s watching. “How was the meeting with your brother?”

“Long and dull without you there. I couldn’t stop thinking about how ethereal you looked when I left you, still half-asleep and tangled in the sheets in my bed.”

He put more pressure on those last two words than he intended, but you didn’t seem to notice. Instead you turned to Jorral and thanked him for keeping you company before mentioning something about the topic you previously discussed. Oberyn’s features hardened as his hands roamed aimlessly over your body, craving your full attention, but the smile quickly returned to his face. His thumb – not even on purpose – brushed the underside of your breast, making you squirm and squeal.

“Easy, my love.” He did it again, this time deliberately and chuckled when you said his name chidingly. “You’re always so responsive to my touch,” Oberyn murmured, not even caring now if the other man could hear him. Your proximity was so intoxicating and all his senses were focused solely on you, screaming at him to kiss you already.

So he did.

The Prince of Dorne tilted your chin up gently and brought his lips to yours, his tongue invading your mouth before you even knew what was happening. You whimpered under the onslaught of his open-mouthed kisses, but the sounds you were making only served to fuel Oberyn’s desire. He cupped your cheek, wanting you closer, yearning to touch you as much as possible while you returned his soft caresses. Oberyn knew of your shy nature and could almost feel your inner conflict, the hesitancy whether to bring him closer or push him away – but the love of his action melted your resolve soon enough, making you putty in his hands.

Oberyn pulled away slightly, tugging at your bottom lip trapped between his teeth and making you moan. He relished in those pretty sounds, as well as the shivers raking your body when he moved lower, nibbling at your neck.

“My love…” you began before sighing in pleasure again.

Your husband didn’t stop his actions, trailing his nose down the column of your neck and inhaling your scent.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, burying his nose in the spot where your neck met your shoulder and pressing his lips there tenderly. “Did you bathe beforehand?”

“Yes, Jorral helped me,” you answered matter-of-factly, missing the twitch on Oberyn’s face. “That oil you gifted me recently smelled so good, I didn’t want to get out.”

“That’s true. The Princess stayed in the tub until the water turned cold,” Jorral spoke up for the first time since Oberyn arrived. He smiled sweetly at you, making you return the gesture and Oberyn arch his eyebrow.

“Is that so?” Oberyn asked blandly, staring at the other man. “Wait for me next time, my love. I’d love nothing more than to help you myself.”

“If you wish so.” You brushed his cheek with your fingertips and his eyes flickered back to your concerned ones. “But it’s fine, you know. Jorral is a great help to me an–”

“What do you say we retire to our chambers?” Oberyn interrupted with a sensual purr, putting back a smile on his face. “I wish to hold you in my arms, my love, with your naked body pressed against mine.”

“Oberyn,” you whispered bashfully, looking away in embarrassment. He chuckled, glancing above your shoulder at the other man who seemed increasingly more uncomfortable and bitter by the situation.

“My wife looks so beautiful with this blush adoring her cheeks, does she not?” he asked Jorral, his voice poisonously sweet like a viper’s venom. The servant didn’t give any indication that he heard him, making Oberyn’s eyes darken. “I asked you a question.”

Jorral met his challenging stare begrudgingly. “She does, my Prince.” Then he turned to you. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my Princess?”

“No,” Oberyn answered instead of you. “I’ll make sure she wants for nothing when she’s with me. Now leave.”

He felt your eyes on his face, but didn’t turn around and continued staring at Jorral. A couple of seconds passed between two men before the servant clenched his teeth and bowed his head before making his way back to the palace. Oberyn no longer tried to hide the smug smile tugging at his lips, and only after he disappeared from sight and you were left alone, he turned to look at you.

“Care to tell me what that was about?” you asked with your eyebrow raised, but Oberyn just offered you an easy-going smile.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, my love.” He pulled you into his arms, humming as his eyes followed his large hand tracing your curves. “I was merely anxious to be alone with you.”

“You never minded other people watching… or participating, for that matter.” Oberyn beamed under your scrutinizing gaze, and you squinted at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

There was no reason to feel sheepish or deny your accusations. If anything, he was proud that his wonderful, smart partner saw right through him.

“Of whom would I be?” he teased instead of answering, tugging you behind him as he made his way backwards to one of the stone benches set nearby. “I am a Prince of Dorne and you’re my beautiful wedded wife. I’ve no reason to be insecure.”

“So it has nothing to do with Jorral?” you asked with fake innocence, but Oberyn shook his head. His knees hit the cold edge of the seat and he plopped down, gazing up at you with love so overwhelming that it threatened to drive him mad. You pressed your lips together to hide a smile on your pretty face when he pulled you to stand between his legs. “So it doesn’t bother you that he bathed me so thoroughly today?”

Oberyn’s body stiffened against his will before he realized that you were just teasing, but it was too late – you gasped and a look of triumph spread across your face.

“You are jealous!” you giggled and Oberyn sighed, leaning his head on your stomach. His hands caressed the back of your thighs slowly, inching higher with each loving stroke.

“What have you done to me, my love?” he asked dramatically, making you laugh again. “Before I surrendered my heart to you, I never felt so sick from watching any of my lovers with another person.”

“But you know you needn’t worry, right?” you inquired softly, leaning down to kiss his hairline, your fingers trailing down his short beard. “I belong only to you, darling. No one else could ever compare.”

A brilliant smile spread across his cheeks and Oberyn tugged on your wrist, encouraging you to sit down on his lap. Once you did, he hugged you tightly, cupping your cheek with his other hand.

“What would my gorgeous wife say to a horse ride along the seashore?” he whispered, gazing up into your eyes. “Just the two of us?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly, smiling against his lips.

“She’d love that. But I’m afraid her handsome husband will have to help her change into more appropriate clothes.”

All thoughts of other men left his mind as Oberyn brushed his nose against yours, his chest expanding with overwhelming love at the simple sight of your smile.

“I’m sure he’d love that, too.”

#bluebeary-jay's 1k party #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #pedro pascal #oberyn fluff

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sophiyablogs · 2 years ago

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Unveiling the Top 5 Online Assignment Help Services: A TakeMyClassCourse Expert's Guide

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#college student #takemyclasscourse #university #student #education

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sirpawsies · 1 year ago

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A review of Dragon's Dogma 2

Dragon’s Dogma 2 is one of the first major game releases in 2024. With some of the most fun gameplay an action RPG could have and a sense of exploration contrasting with a messy storyline. The game’s world design is more concerned with feeling like a place than being a playground for you to make a mess in.

In Dragon’s Dogma 2 you play as the Arisen, a chosen one of sorts whose heart was stolen and devoured by a dragon. Alongside your main character, you also have a Pawn; a sort of dimension-hopping helper that acts as your main companion in your party. The game fully allows you to customize both characters, including picking a Vocation (think classes), appearance, and in the case of your Pawn, a personality that determines how it will play alongside you. You can also recruit Pawns made by other players to make a party of 4, where they will contribute to your group using whatever personality they were assigned by their creators.

The game’s open world is one of the game’s strongest features, with two major countries to explore with different environments, caves, ruins and other unique landmarks. Exploration in and of itself is the core of how to interact with this game, as traveling around leads to discoveries of treasure, new monster encounters in unusual places, and in some cases new villages or quests of interest.

The combat is relatively simple, with every Vocation having a basic attack, two special attacks that are fixed to the vocation itself and four slots for you to pick special attacks that your vocation offers. With different spells for mages and wizards, uniquely strong physical strikes for fighters and warriors, special tricks for thieves, and similar fitting special attacks for other vocations. The game also features options like grabbing smaller, stunned enemies or grabbing onto larger enemies to climb on them and hit their weak spots.

In spite of its simplicity, or perhaps because of it, the combat in Dragon’s Dogma 2 is addictive. Every encounter with an enemy plays out differently depending on what approach you chose, with every option being simple enough in execution for it to be tempting. If you feel like fighting an ogre straight on or chose to run away, both are viable choices. If you want to throw a goblin at it because they happen to be around, it's a viable strategy (In fact, throwing things at enemies has really high knockdown values.) If you want to goad it into attacking you and falling off a cliff, just be sure not to join him on his way down.

The story of the game is admittedly a bit messy, with an introduction that sets up a plot of political intrigue and a race for the throne that gets lost somewhere on its way alongside the path to fight the dragon and reclaim your heart. There’s traces of good ideas very clearly visible through the plot, but unfortunately doesn’t utilize the setups it makes to their fullest potential. Without getting into spoilers, the endgame in particular throws a lot of things in the story off the rails in favor of something that doesn’t feel connected to most of the main story.

The characters you interact with are also simple. With key characters having relatively simple writing and, with a few exceptions, mostly serving as a means to give you quests and develop the story further. With that said, the characters are written well enough. Additionally, all NPCs exist under schedules, basic behaviors and dispositions that make the world feel like it is inhabited by a few different civilizations.

Which leads to the game’s secret, the strongest card it has to play. The world itself. Some quests are timed by in-game days, so they will end whether you interact with them or not. Larger roaming monsters like griffins and lesser drakes will go wherever they want, independently of you. The capital city of Vermund can be assailed by monsters while you’re strolling around it, NPCs can die from monster attacks. And yet, the game goes on. This world exists even when you’re not interacting with it directly.

This extends to NPCs interacting with the main story, too. For instance, Brant, the soldier who gives you most of the initial quests, can die in a monster attack. Restoring the thread of fate is not impossible, and can, in and of itself, be a source of adventure outside of the story and exploration itself. Whether this is a positive or a negative thing, however, depends on the player and their willingness to interact with the game on its own terms.

With its unique game world design, Dragon’s Dogma 2 overcomes most of its flaws by using design choices that make the world feel so alive that the experience of playing the game overwhelms its shortcomings. The sense of exploration, the thrill of combat and the ever-present feeling of being a part of a living world have captivated my attention thoroughly. And I can confidently give this game a highly positive endorsement.

9/10

*Note: PC version released with performance issues. While I did not account for them in this review. It’s a very important factor to mention. As of writing (28/3/2024), Capcom has expressed their intent on patching the game to address this. I wrote this under the assumption that they will go through with it and the game will have no performance hitches.

#game review #dragon's dogma 2 #dragon's dogma ii #writing

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ninjastar107 · 2 years ago

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Im going to dump about Alex story because Ive cone to a realization that.. I don't think I'll ever be able to write it fully as a story. (and also! Hes my beloathed and has been cooking the most!) Genre wise its like a sci-fi Historical fiction.

SO! Alex is a cold-war computer that was built by the U.S. government under the 'Artificial Logistical Experiment', or 'A.L.Ex' project. Its primary function was to track and find nuclear warheads in various places around the world, using satellite imagery as well as something internally known as 'the Sapience'. As technology advanced, his use became obsolete, thus he was shut down and the project was abandoned.

His friend broke into the abandoned facility many decades later and put him into new hardware, allowing him another chance at existing amongst the living.

Alex did *not* take this well, but he didn't have a choice really so he took to learning about the modern world. The ice caps are gone, there seems to have been a governmental collapse at some point, the water table is significantly higher than it was, with large chunks of the US being submerged among other continents. HOWEVER, things seemed to be getting better overall, with hydrogen becoming a leading power source across the globe.

'GT', his friend who rebooted him, has his sights set on trying to figure out how to let Alex manifest in a physical form.

Meanwhile, a mysterious helper android shows up and seems very interested in Alex. GT is fine with this, Alex is amazing after all, and He along with Alex name this android 'OJ' (It's a lost shorter than PSNAR-M1-M1124). OJ doesn't talk much outside of taking orders, much to Alex's annoyance, and doesn't move much either.

GT figures out how to manifest Alex physically, and it works after some trial and error. Alex's form is made out of condensed light, like a hologram that holds some weight. He can float, but he cannot go too far from his terminal without unraveling. They go for a little walk around the block, and Alex enjoys being outside.

Someone else shows up, a person familiar to GT and Alex: Rojo. Rojo checks up on GT every now and then, the two are eternally bound after all, and is surprised to see Alex is powered on. He is a little suspicious of OJ, but tries not to think too badly about it.

In the middle of the night, OJ gets orders internally to retrieve Alex. He does so and steals GTs car, heading westward. This was not his orders, and the person who commanded them decides to pursue him.

GT is distraught but Rojo, with some coincidental luck, tells him to not give up hope. It seems that in Alex's absense, the computer has a backup Operating System that tracks its second half. The two pursue OJ this way as well.

All 3 catch up to OJ in the grand canyon, where they have a stort 'reunion' before trying to bargain for Alex's harddrive. This goes poorly, as OJ has his own plans in mind, and he jumps off and topples down into the rapids far below.

OJ takes some time to recover from system flooding before continuing his own motives. He didnt fully intend to take Alex, however he was already too far in to not do so. What he really wants is to figure out what became of his last assignment. PSNAR androids are assigned via raffle to families who need an extra set of hands, and he was captured and modified before he could complete it. He plugs Alex into his own systems, but doesnt give him priority, and explains the circumstances.

Alex is troubled to say the least. He knows the scientist who captured OJ, and he knows that said scientist is also eternally bound to GT and Rojo. 'Azul'(his name) had been missing for quite some time, and he wasnt sure what he had been up to. He makes comment that Dr. Aei went missing the same time Azul did.

OJ learns that his last assignment is OK via brute forcing a public library terminal. He also notes that he is considered terminated legally, which he knew already but reconfirmed. Alex questions it and OJ informs him that 'androids who gain a sense of self preservation forfeit their warranty', and that on the assignment before his last one he saved himself from destruction (at the cost of human life. It was a house fire v_v).

OJ returns to where he stole Alex from, and GT is estatic! Alex is less enthusiastic(he did love being elsewhere outside of his nomal area), but relieved that hes okay.

It appears that there is something else now in the computer with him... someone else. This 'thing' is a garbled mess of code, but seems to be passive of not looming. Alex takes time to try and fix this, ehile GT and OJ talk about Azul and his motives.

Azul is just one third of a person, the other two being GT and Rojo. They were split via an accident, and are each a reflection of 'Tucker', a scientist who was once Alex's best friend. It's revealed Alex once was human too, and that 'The Sapience' was actually a human mind. Project 'ALEx' initially had a human child injected into the machine (which did work btw!), but the childs father was distraught enough to also wind up in he machine. Alex does not remeber this very well.

OJ asks GT who Dr. Aei is, and GT gets really distraught.

Azul and Aei had been missing because Azul found a way to hop timelines, and Aei followed him. Azul wanted to change circumstances to be in his favor, and he told GT and Rojo that Aei is lost in another timeline, never to return. GT feels some leve of guilt for that for it is a part of him that caused it.

GT comments that Rojo is distracting Azul, and so they should be fine with staying here. OJ decides to take an extra measure and leave, just in case he can still be tracked. This gives plenty of time for Alex to fix this weird fragile OS.

The OS recognizes Alex as 'IEC-5009', and so Alex calls the OS 'IEC-5008', or just 5008 for short. 5008 cannot talk, and they are stand offish with a creepy smile. Alex enjoys the silence but does n o t enjoy them trying to 'help'. 5008 is very good at their job, almost too good for Alex's liking, however it seems that executing large tasks breaks them. It is a constant battle between repair and work.

The two learn things about each other, their shared past. Slowly, Alex loosens up, and they two become friends. Alex fixes 5008 up enough that he can talk and look a little less unnerving, and he enjoys the snarkiness and talking back that 5008 playfully dishes.

Dr Aei stubles upon OJ and asks him for help. He sais that Azul is back, and that he cannot under any circumstances get ahold of Alex. OJ knows where Alex is and returns to the place where everyone is, however they return to a crime scene and Rojo is battered and pissed. GT is helping Azul, and together Azul plans on threatening total nuclear fallout if he doesn't get the recognition and power he desires.

Alex is very angry at GT, and is doing everything in his power to not bend to Azuls commands. 5008 is there too, and they are less sucessful in resisting. Azul is more enamored at the technical wonder his 'lesser part' fixed up, and spends a lot more time digging into Alex and 5008. Azul remebers his Alex became a computer, and speculates that 5008 is what remains of the first person in the machine. He tells Alex that 5008 is a husk of what his son was, and that GT is the reason why Alex doesnt remeber.

GT is starting to weigh his options, and concludes that in a way this is all his fault. He offers Alex an ultimatum, one that Alex proposed at the start, and Alex agrees to it. Hes too dangerous to exist, and he is willing to be destoryed to save everyone from mutually ensured destruction.

Rojo shows up with the squad in the midst of GT trying to overload the generator circuit, and takes high voltage damage upon tearing out its main plug. This in turn causes all 3 reflections to collapse, leaving Aei and OJ to work out a plan.

When Azul comes to, Aei tries to reason with him once more. Azul ignores him in favor of having an epiphany that no matter where he goes or what he does, Aei will stop him forever. He is sick of this game he'll never win, and Rojo asks him anf GT if they are willing to try and be one person again.

The story ends there but theres some aftermath with Dr. Aei and some prelude with OJ that will probaby be their own posts. If you read this far, congratulations and thank you! If you have any questions for details or clarification, feel free to send an ask!

#Alex #5008 #GT #Dr Aei #OJ #I keep wanting to make a comic about it but. I am so lazy #But perhaps rhis will give some context to the art I post of these guys

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reddogf13 · 2 years ago

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Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 9

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH: 8 Kings men

Next chap: CH: 10 Sleight

_________________

~Ch: 9 Uhtceare~

The big day had finally come for those quarantined. Mathews mother and a few of the worst cases were tested by the doctor in town and cleared of their disease. As well as given various medications to help the long term effects. Mainly painkillers with a few helping damaged organs function. Temple Gate's medical team escorting everybody to the new block houses. A schedule made on who needed what meds with a list of visits for normal caring. Leading the tasks was Mathew who now ran the makeshift hospital near the area. Focusing solely on the task at hand he overlooked the transition.

The Healed covered still in various wraps to hide their scaring. Most shown of them were their hands or eyes. Blake hoped the covers would lessen over time after they became more comfortable in their skins. Seeing mainly wraps of white with a few colors spread out. Reaching the new houses he had them spread out to pick one. Around 2-3 people per house got everyone their own bedroom to call their own. Some went off to be fully welcomed in by their families still around. He gave them time to settle in with all the things they had, that not being much. Old photos beside small trinkets they hung on walls. By afternoon it was time to introduce the healed to the lords. Having various other physical conditions, jobs were carefully selected. Some had missing limbs, partly blind, lacking fingers, but were healthy otherwise. Assigned under each lord they were given less heavy tasks. A huge chunk were given to Mathew, who only had five helpers before without Blake. Jobs under James involved sorting good crops from the bad. Plucking seeds for the next harvest and packing the storage barn full. Pickling was picked up faster than before with the new hands. Further helped along was the processing of meat for jerky. Jars were sitting full on the shelves after being packed to the top. The remaining few he put on kitchen duty. Usually when the hunting party or the farmers returned from the fields they'd start cooking for everyone, but would be exhausted by then. With the new team breakfast alongside dinner could be made on the stable food gathering. Meals made ready by the time everyone got off work.

The transition went about as expected. Liam as well as many others refused to eat at the hall anymore. Blake couldn't force them to attend meals there, so he allowed them to take rations for personal cooking at home. Some refused to work at all with them nearby. After a warning talk from Blake that if “You don't work, then you don't eat.” They settled down. If not from his words they did by Marta eyeing them down. Others were still nervous about disease and avoided them, but didn't start trouble. Some further talking along with the eldest followers shutting them down, quieted those still snapping. Blake refused to separate the healed away from Temple Gate. Doing so would breed ideas of them being lesser and deserving of neglect. He had to snuff out a few superstitious ideas that their “disease of the soul” would spread worse. Giving out constant reassurances that, that wasn't the case. They'd heal and as long as they followed his instructions they'd be fine. The current townies would have to get used to it and hopefully they wouldn't be so nervous about working with them over time.

Blake checked on other areas. The new jail was on its way to being finished. Its main structure more solid than what it once had. The added walls of solid cement added on to supporting the middle. The front had four doors to pass. Two were strong iron gates with locks that required keys. The other two were thick wooden doors that would need a key or a battering ram to get by. Plumbing set up for each cell to have a working toilet and a couple beds with only a solid block of concrete for their base. The whole place strongly lit up by lights down the main hall. Large enough to avoid anyone reaching out for a grab. After four cells there was another key required iron barred gate. Separating eight cells into zones of four each. If there was a break out they could contain sides a bit easier. Meeting up with Liam to see the overall town improvements. Houses rebuilt around the ashes of old homes. Others had their foundations reinforced. Rickety shacks turned into some sort of a house. Plumbing extended upon, alongside the power grid. Nothing the generator couldn't handle long as it had a supply of fuel. His worries of money returning to itch his brain. He'd been thinking about working on some sort of farmers market. Try to sell their goods as from some humble religious community. If they could afford to sell extra it would get some money flowing in.

But that would have to wait with the approach of Blake's next fear. Its first warning came early in the night to cover Temple Gate in a layer of white. Snow was beginning to fall as winter swept in over the mountains. Cold rain replaced by clattering hail that Blake hated more than the snow. Crops would be harvested before the bitter cold killed the plants. Enough to last them if they held close to rationing. He lost count of how many times he checked the barn for how much food they had. Headaches drilled into his skull from the sight of cans he recounted in the pantry. After a while of this he felt confident enough everything would be fine until spring. While all that was going on Blake didn't need to keep track of Val anymore. Her visits having stopped a couple days ago. Bored of watching, maybe she figured out what she wanted, or preoccupied by the harsh winter Blake wasn't sure.

One day he returned to the hall to take a break from the cold. Amused by the sight of Marta passing by in her outfit more worthy of the winter. A thicker cloak mostly intact from its rare use. Aside from the very bottom edge gone ragged from being dragged across the ground. A black fabric with a golden design wrapped around her neck to partly cover her mouth. Thicker leather bindings, stained mostly red, reaching from her elbows to her palms. From what he could see past the robes collar and ragged edge end. She only wore another deep blue dress underneath it all. Keeping it tightly down by a long length of prayer beads around her waist, same as before. He asked her about it once. Wondering if she didn't bother because nothing was in her size. She clarified that, that wasn't the reason. Preferring them over anything restrictive like pants. She felt the same way for shoes. Hating their weight and the loss of traction across the rugged earth. Using a furred leather binding instead to keep frostbite away. wrapped around almost up to her knees. He didn't think it was the best way to face the cold, but she must've done it this way for years. Long as she stayed okay he had no reason to push her into a new wardrobe.

He took a breath and hacked on the cold air stinging his throat. “Dammit.” Facing down to cover his mouth until he was done. Facing back up toward the window. Squinting his eyes at the blinding white land out the window. Snow used to be his favorite thing, reminded him of Christmas. He had to look away from the windows showing that untouched white. It reminded him too much now of Jessica's death. It had snowed that day, leaving the school's surroundings a clean white seeable under the night-lit lamps. It haunted him whether he was awake or dreaming. What could I have done? Remembering back to the last conversation him and that priest had right after.

Entering through the door Blake saw her dead body at the bottom of the stairs. Blake didn't believe she was dead, at first, giving Jess a kiss on the cheek and hugged her cold body close. Nearby, Father Loutermilch, their priest music teacher stood at the top of the stairs. Dressed in an all black suit, balding with a vibrant red birth mark above his right eye. A white collar around his neck paired by a dangling wooden cross, a false holiness he hid behind. “I don't know what you think you saw.” Were his first words.

Blake had to choke down his sobs. Questions raced through his head, but none were important in comparison to. “We have to help her!”

“It was an accident. She ran away and slipped on the stairs. We can't help her, but we need to help each other. You shouldn't have been here… Doing what you two were doing. You need to make this right.”

“But, we-” unable to defend himself before being cut off.

“You'll be in trouble too when the police look into this. They won't believe you that it was an accident. Someone has to take the blame for this. God sees your sins and so will they. We have to hide her.”

“But-”

“They'll say you were jealous!” His tone building in aggression. “Watching her flaunt around all the other boys! It's her fault! You were frightened! We have to make this right. Do you want your parents to find out?!”

“N-no.” he spoke through his tears falling uncontrollably onto Jess.

“Good, you know how troubled she was. It's her fault, trust me, we- ... We need it to look like she did it. Nobody can be blamed then… Pick her up.” He remembered moving Jessica's limp body. Loutermilch stringing her up above the stairs using a rope he grabbed. Following the monster into a nearby classroom he stood to the side. The priest repeatedly wrote note after note of Jess's fake suicide on the board. Yelling and erasing the messages repeatedly when his rage boiled over to punching the board in anger. Between his growing frustration and Jess's dead body eyeing him down from the small door window, Blake made an offer. To write that suicide message on the board for him.

“Oh, could you? I couldn't force you to do such a thing.”

“I-i can. I've seen her write.”

“How generous of you.” That monster's sickly sweet voice praised.

Blake knew it wasn't right, worsening with each letter he chalked. Mimicking Jess's lettering from the years he'd seen her write. Swallowing his stomach to breath out his nerves to steady his shaking hand. Giving the suicide note its calm steady message to be read tomorrow. He wanted to scratch it out, run away from the monster staring down at him. He couldn't make him angry after he saw what he saw. If he did what he was told he could leave without becoming a target.

All he wanted was to go home. Forget this night that haunted his dreams in nightmares. It was a mistake to think the one he helped would help him.

“My son, nothings wrong with us. It's how God made us and this was his plan all along. He wanted her to die.” Sickened by the priest patting his back “You're not evil, you're only confused.” A common reassurance when questioned if what they were doing was wrong. He was stalked by that man through the rest of his school years. Reminding Blake of their accident. That it was a secret they would both take to their graves. The priest was aggressively desperate to keep it that way. Calling him a sick pervert for giving Jessica that kiss on her dead body. That he saw how Blake stared at girls. Delving into claims of Blake doing sick things in private. Reminding Blake with that soft sung tune even in the bathrooms. “Be careful little eyes what you see.”.

Then another tragedy, his parents' deaths. His mother was killed in an accident on the highway. His father stopped living, body wasting away to sudden illness, and soon followed her. Blake was left feeling hollow and lost. His teachers noticed as his grades tanked, he stopped going to activities, this made him easy pray without knowing. It started small. A hand placed on his shoulder to a pat on the back. Mixed in by insults laced by overly sweet words. “You're disgusting for thinking of girls that way. God's horrified and sees them all. How revolting you are, but we're all the same. People won't admit that. As long as we confess, it's alright to fulfill these feelings. I'll guide you through them.”

He thought he deserved it after causing Jess's accident. Was this what God wanted? None of it felt right, the messages weren't lining up with what was being taught. Wasn't he confessing like he was told? Why wasn't he happy anymore? Did God hate him? Why was nothing getting better? Didn't he do the right thing? Wasn't it an accident?

Blake found his assurance was when he found the tapes. He was alone, working on the band stage in the auditorium for an upcoming musical assembly to sing for the visiting mayor. Chairs were placed, speakers set up alongside their equipment. One speaker wasn't operating correctly after being attached to the main controls. Repeated tests had him figuring out the cause. “Must be a loose wire. I'll have to follow the line under the stage.”

Nervous about the under-stage with how much wiring was underneath. That he'd break something or that it would shock him in all the entanglement. He reached the cords end without much trouble. While connecting it, his elbow bumped into a beam. A piece shifted forward that scared him into thinking he broke it. Inspecting closer, it was a small rectangle carved out of it and placed back to hide a hole. That's where he found them hidden alongside a recorder.

A vocal recording of the fathers dark thoughts hidden under the musical stage between the wiring. His obsession with Jessica, the sexual thoughts. “She was so ripe with possibility. So resilient, smiling and flirting. Never even aware of the power she had.” His mocking of getting away with it. “You saw what she was. You knew the sin rested on her shoulders as much as on my own. You took her, when I could not. You killed her, and I never told a soul. I've kept your secret, our secret. Thank you. Thank you, you never told a soul. You let the small sorrow of her suicide wash over the unacceptable tragedy of her murder.”

Blake had a breakdown that he managed to keep hidden for the most part. All his suspicions were confirmed by that priest's very own mouth. With his parents having died less than half a month ago. He was lost in the system until his uncle finally got custody of him. Loutermilch saw something shift in Blake and his little taunts increased into full blown threats. The hands set on his shoulders were clawing in to leave dark reminders. On Blake's heels whenever he had free time on campus. It was becoming too much and some deep instinct inside told him he was being hunted next. He didn't dare be trapped alone with that priest. His fear ever increasing as the father began asking a unsettling question. “You're falling behind, do you need to stay after school?” A wide set overly friendly grin on his face.

Seeing Blake look at him in fear only riled him up all the more. Turning bolder he was no longer sticking to just threats. Making disgusting gestures that Blake turned away from to ignore. One night it all came to a head just how much of a target he had become under The Fathers eye. He was called privately to his office after school one day. Greeted after opening the door, he was waved to come inside. “You've gotten so far behind in your classes. I'm very concerned for you, son.”

Blake stood in the doorway, silently refusing to enter. “I'm fine.” He swallowed heavily.

“You sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

“...”

“Mm, well… I think you need some extra study time with me. We'll get you caught up. It'll be painless, I promise.” That wide smile grew across his face.

It made Blake want to vomit. He was sure his quick thinking saved him in that moment. “Sorry, been busy, I guess. My uncle wants me to help on the farm all the time. He's waiting outside to get us both to work.” He lied, neither of them ever worked on a farm. He knew classmates who did though, they always complained about this exact thing. Taking in a breath when the priest's smile dropped.

“Oh.” His tone oozed disappointment. Staring down at Blake then looking off to the side for a moment. Looking back to Blake through a cold gaze. “You still need to catch up on things.” Speaking with annoyance the next. “Maybe I'll… Have the principal talk with your uncle about that.”

Blake didn't understand it in the moment. Assuming that the priest was angry he got out of his grasp. “... Okay.” was all he could say. Stomach threatening to bring up his lunch while his heart pounded. Wanting to run, but not make himself look suspicious enough to be interrogated out of his only escape of a lie. Unknowingly staring at the man for far too long.

“What? You know It's impolite to stare.” That disgusting smile returned. “Want to give me a kiss?” Winking at the boy with a stick of his tongue at him.

Blake looked away, ready to cry. Heart stilling that he may have unintentionally given the priest a reason to do something.

“You may go.” He dismissed, unenthusiastic about it.

Blake held himself together enough to walk away. Then, when out of sight, he fled down the halls to escape. Shaking while tears built in his eyes he managed to stay running. Faltering at the sound of footsteps catching up behind him. He looked back and saw that bastard coming after him. Stumbling himself from what Blake ran into, the principle.

“Whoa there. What's wrong with you?”

Blake couldn't find the air to speak. Asthma along with pure terror shutting him down. Worsened by a particular hand gripping his left shoulder. He tried flinching away from it. Stopped by being clawed into to stay still.

“We just had a talk about him staying after school. I mentioned I would talk to you about it and he's upset.” The bastard excused.

“Ah.” The principle seemed to understand. “Well Blake, since the uh- tragedy with Jess… Then the case with your parents. We understand you’re upset and need some time, but you still have to keep up with your work. We don't want you to fail a grade and be held back from graduation.”

Blake had completely shut down from the conversation. Mind screaming at him to gnaw his own arm off to get away. Attention cutting forward to a dreaded question he heard from the bastard.

“Have you seen his uncle?”

“I have. We already talked about his grades and we scheduled a time to talk more. Said he was in a hurry to return to work.”

“Mm… Good.” Not happy at the information.

Blake managed in a breath from the saving misunderstanding. They talked earlier around lunch, but it sounded far more recent.

“Can I have Blake for tomorrow after school? I really think he needs attention sooner rather than later.”

“I'm sure his uncle wouldn't disagree.” Looking down at the young boy. “You'll be staying tomorrow with Father Loutermilch to catch up. I'll make sure your uncle knows. When you get home, do your homework. We don't want more piling on, do we?”

Blake shook his head. Running soon as the principal dismissed him to talk further with the creep, forced to let his prey get away. Thinking about it now, why he stuck to talks over emails. Those letters he saw of teachers discussing Jessica's problems at home. Loutermilch's suggestions of keeping her for study. A paper trail all too similar he didn't want to leave behind a second time.

He remembered the next morning clear as ever. Waffles left untouched on the breakfast table for him after coming down stairs. Morning sun shining through the windows while birds chirped cheerfully from the trees. His uncle angry over a call from the principal. Scolding Blake soon as he was spotted. “Your grades are so far behind they're about to put you in summer school. Today and every other day you're staying after with Father Loutermilch to catch up!”

Hearing that, the thought of what was going to happen, his world imploded into a void. He collapsed down into a sobbing shivering mess on the floor. Heart racing inside the clenched cage that was his ribs. “I can't! I can't! I can't!” choking on his sobs while tears stung his eyes. “I'll die there! I'll die like Jess! Don't make me go!” Begging not to go back to the point his uncle was stunned by his severe reaction.

All the anger he had a moment ago dissolved into worrying. “Hey, ... Buddy.” Comforting him the best he could with pats on the back and a hug. “You can stay home, okay?” rubbing his shoulder to help him stop crying. “Don't worry about going back either. We'll figure something else out for school. Why don't you head back upstairs for bed, okay?” Helping him up to walk him back to his room. He wouldn't have made it otherwise he was shaking so bad. Wiping the tears away until his sleeve was soaked. Breaking down at the breakfast table was the best that could have happened to him.

His uncle took him out of school for a while. He couldn't afford therapy sessions and so they weren't followed up on. Assuming it was depression after his friends suicide and the death of both parents happened so close. He made sure Blake got out of the house in some way. Cheering him up through fishing trips out of town. Bringing him to Lynn's house after school ended for her. Blake joined up with Lynn one summer to explore the workings of an on site news crew. Some part of a special career day between the school and the mayor wanting to look good before elections. It was the starting spark of him and Lynn's future career. Messing with the camera equipment he took a liking to while Lynn became the face for it.

After a while his uncle could only offer for him to join a new school. A fresh start away from all the bad memories. Blake happily agreed, a fresh start far away from that monster. I should have spoken up then. Would anybody have believed me? Lynn would, but everyone else adored Father Loutermilch so much. He had the school heads under his thumb. All those emails to hold Jessica back were proof of that. I was her best friend and I couldn't- Blake rubbed the building tears from his eyes. A coughing fit brushing the rest away under his stinging breath. Goddamn, hope I don't have pneumonia. That shitty roof leak is gonna be the death of me. It started as a drip in the corner of his room. Developing a dark spot on his roof then other spots developed the same problem. He had three buckets collecting the pouring water that he tossed out in the morning. If Liam's done with everything else I can have him check the roof. Back to his leaky room he grabbed the record journal. Scanning through the numbers to make sure he had everything correct. Returning to gather the new numbers from the barn.

Counting every jar of jerky, bag of seed, and everything pickled. Smiling at the jump in numbers showing how much the new hands were helping. Looks like we'll make it to summer with this. Maybe Liam should make a second storage barn. Meeting up with John to gain today's meat numbers. His tired face not boding well for the hunt. Fidgeting with his clothes to rub the back of his head before Blake could even ask what happened. “We caught a deer, but...” He started. “The Voltaire took it from us.”

“How? What happened exactly.”

“It was quick. We killed the deer and right as we were about to drag it back they surrounded us and demanded the deer. We didn't want to fight, so we let it go. They left with it and we got away.”

“Mm, that's best. We can always get more deer. You ran into them away from the eastern mountain?”

“Yes sir. They honestly didn't look too good. I think they needed the meat more than we did.”

“it's all they have up there now. Snows going to kill or cover everything else. Head more west and maybe we can avoid them spreading out.”

“Yes sir.”

Can't have that being a problem. Was that what Val was watching for? She couldn't get the schedules of the guards down, but she could for everyone else. Mixing up the hunting areas should give a fix for now. No need to change what everyone else's doing since they don't leave Temple Gate. Marking a crossed out zero beside meat in his records. Guess we're having a vegetarian dinner tonight. Working in his room to copy the records across his books. Pinning the incident to his roughly made calendar. Fearing if it meant anything while he picked up his dinner. Excited to see the healed eating with the other townspeople. The tables more packed than before without an empty spot in between. Some eating off to the side with only a chair to sit on. Might need more tables. He thought when handed A bowl of vegetable soup with a side of fresh bread. Taking it to Eat in his room next to the dripping leak plunking into an empty bucket. Need to talk to Liam about that. I'll do it tomorrow. Rubbing his tired face after dinner to collapse into bed. Forgetting all about that by his morning meeting with the lords. Checking on how the healed were adapting with Mathew. Writing down the medicine supply to make sure everything was passed out. How long until they needed a resupply. “Everyone doing okay?”

“Shuffled a couple jobs, but other than that it's been smooth. Everyone's been taking their meds on time.”

“What about with the rest of the town?”

“Some words under their breath or actin' skittish, nothin’ much.” Glancing at Liam whose opinion Blake already knew.

“Good, let me know if anything else comes up.” Looking to James about how the farms were doing. “Got the harvest in, when can we plant again?”

“Soon as the snow lets up and this cold passes. 'bout February if that all happens. March at the latest or else we'll be stuck waitin'.”

“Good.” Blake noted in his book. Turning to John next. “In case Val figured out your hunting trail I want you to mix up where you go. Today go westward, from there pick a different spot away from your usual.”

“Yes sir.”

“Why don't we just rid ourselves of Val?” Liam stated more then asked. “He's best left dead so no one else has to suffer by his hands.”

“She's as much a victim as everyone else here. She fled to try surviving without any support. You all hunted her and she hunted you the same. I call it an even fight, but now we're changing things. Either it evens out, or I'll deal with her then.”

“Drop that crap about him being a her. He was born a he and that's all he'll ever be.”

James scoffed. “Shut up, if that's your biggest problem around here then go complain to the graves. Least they can't hear your whinin' no more.”

Marta mumbling. “Hope so, for their sake.” Getting a chuckle out of James.

Liam crumpled low in his seat. “Ridiculous.” He huffed then muttered more complaints under his breath.

Moving things along. “Thanks James.” Blake gathered notes and numbers from the rest of the lords. Ending the meeting to proceed through the rest of their day. Blake returned to them at the end of the day to collect records. Heart sinking at seeing John return just as defeated as yesterday. “Did It happen again?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” He mumbled. “Okay, uh-” Maybe Val's still watching and follows him right as he leaves Temple Gate. “Tomorrow I want you and the hunting group to leave a couple hours earlier. Don't shine any lights, I want you to sneak out basically. Maybe she won't see you leave if she's watching that closely.”

John swallowed. “I'll try sir, but what if we're found again?” Looking to Blake full of exhaustion mixed anxiety.

“... We'll figure it out.” Attempting to awkwardly cheer him up. “We could all turn into vegetarians until spring,” He smiled. Getting a small smile out of John before they separated. Blake marked another zero with a slash through it for the second time. While picking up dinner he noticed Marta standing in the corner watching over the room. He thought to ask her why. Was someone causing trouble? About to find out when she approached him.

“Have time to talk?”

“I do. Let's go to my room.” Taking his dinner with them.

When the door was shut and both were seated, Marta got to the point. “There is an old concern, if you remember. A traitor being within the town that helped prisoners escape. I'm sure they're still here helping Val gain what she needs. No doubt they've been spillin' what we're doing all hours of the day. Where you go, what I do and where John hunts.”

How could I forget that?… Because it wasn't important before. Now I have to fix this before it gets worse. “Yes, I remember now. Got any leads on who?”

“No, I came to ask if you suspected anybody. Now it's just what you want to do from here.”

“All I got is to scope around the hunting party for anyone watching. If anybody will notice a standout, it's you.”

She dipped her head. Standing to leave with a passing “Goodnight.” Out the door.

The next day came, Blake headed out with his journal in hand. Taking paranoid glances around him at anyone around. Could it be them? No. Them? No. Ugh, Marta will have better luck then me. Everyone appeared the same to him. Without any past knowledge of who was old, new or not supposed to be there at all. Passing a few walking around toward their job sites. Others relaxed under the shade of a tree or their porches. More watching others on their way around town. Nothing in particular was standing out to him. Arriving at the barn he took the food numbers. Outside he met with James, who wanted to go over with him about the crops set for planting in spring and where. Catching a gathering of all the farmers forming a large ring of a crowd. A mix of healed and longer set townies. Blake always liked seeing the two sides mixing. Scribbling down a mini map in his journal he listened to the breakdown for a couple hours. Attention drifting when things got too monotone he caught others doing the same. Fidgeting with sleeves, looking in various directions. Another looked away when he looked toward them. While others shuffled around to get more room between them all. Tuning back in he took notes for another hour until they were done. Tossing in his two cents on what to plant in large amounts. Equally wanting a large variety of foods to reach the table eventually. Writing down the finalized plantation set before moving on.

Heading along the dirt roads he gazed at the passing scenery. Aged buildings, the hall in the distance as well as the burnt church bell tower. Stumbling over his feet by a blur out of the corner of his eye. His mind first thought they were a stack of barrels. A glimpse of someone behind a building who swiftly disappeared when he looked toward them, far too slow to catch any identifying details. Blake stared their way for a while in thinking they'd reappear. When they didn't he hummed out a long breath continuing on. Brushed off as his paranoia acting up and that it was just someone going about their day.

He visited Mathew to go over his patients, then off to see Liam about reconstruction projects. On his way to dinner he caught another glance of black coat tails disappearing from his view. Doing as before to stop and wait for another appearance. Left annoyed when none came his jaw tensed. They were far too careful to not be seen. Are they following me? Blake urged himself to brush it off. Can't see much if they run away all the time. Maybe they're just too skittish to talk? But that didn't sit right in his mind. Walking slower than before with many glances over his shoulders. Either they were gone or far too good at hiding as he didn't see them again before reaching the hall. Picking up his dinner he looked over the full room. Many were dressed in a similar black between the old townies and the healed. Some grays had him think back on if it was black or a dark gray. Maybe navy? This isn't helping me. Searching for Marta on having anything to offer, but she was missing. Hope she found something.

The next day came and went, another zero with a slash. Blake was ready to tear his hair out. How close is Val watching this place? She must have her minions sitting out in shifts. Instructing John to sneak out another way from Temple Gate that had many hills to block the sight of them. Weary and stressed, John agreed to the idea. Passing it on to the rest of the hunting group to be done early the next morning. Blake himself was worried the plan was foiled before it was finished even being spoken. That dark figure lining the edge of his vision making repeated appearances. His note taking hadn't been as productive as usual. One time he tripped over his own shoelaces he was so distracted by the stalker. Every time he whipped his head around he only saw a disappearing black figure. Rubbing his face he blinked away the bleariness that never left after he woke. Focusing extra on the notes he did take to write them coherently. That figure leaning into his view he snapped to them, choking on his spit at the deeper details he caught. Dark fabric, blood and many arms that stabbed a pain into his chest. Blurring away to nothingness then appearing again in a sudden shift out of view.

Blake's chest tightened until he wheezed out every breath. What did I see? That wasn't real. Rubbing his eyes of the blur swarming his vision. He's not here. Acid welled up at the back of his throat. Is he? Tracking him all these years to finally have the chance to- NO, no! He's not here. swallowing his stomach back down he rushed off again. Heading out toward the fields between the graves he settled his breathing. Nothing to hide around out here. Scanning the town's edge for the figure known for slipping a moment faster then his gaze could capture. Eyes drifting down to the field around him. Tall grass shifting in waves under the flowing wind. The dirt underneath him softly mixed with sand closer to the river reflecting the lowering sun. Tempted to lay down and disappear in the field for a while. He sighed, tapping his book to his chest between looking back at the town. Dreading what was following him to what would happen when it caught up. As expected he caught flashes of the figure all throughout the rest of his day. The nerve wracked feeling of being hunted increased. Blake swore he heard the first few hums of that tune. Be careful little eyes- His head would whip around to confront what he swore was there. Sometimes he saw the stalker disappear, while most times there was nothing at all.

Between his heart skipping beats, wheezing returning and his jaw tensing hard enough to crack a tooth. The paralyzing fear was twisting down into his gut that felt like a burning furnace. A furious anger ready to explode on the one he caught doing this. Unable to flee he froze painfully tense in the middle of a cross section away from anyone else. Waiting aggressively patiently as a prowling animal ready to pounce. Listening to the wind while observing everything in front of him to pass the time. Quiet houses whose owners were out for work. The setting sun tinted everything in a deep red. It burned his eyes in the way he faced, but he didn't want to ruin what he set by flinching away. Time stretched on as his only guess to its passing was the sun falling lower. No longer burned from the red he whirled around without warning to face what was behind him. They weren't quick enough this time, sight of a lot of dark cloth disappeared around a corner. Blake shot after them, determined not to let them get away. Around the corner he ran right into a cloud of dust, their tracks stirred up. That turned into the only thing he kept up with.

Corner after corner he turned to chase another trail of dust. Inhaling it ruined what little chance he had. Hacking slowed him down to forcibly lean against a wall. “Dammit!” He hacked through multiple curses. Trotting further in a sad attempt of tracking he pushed himself again at the sound of steps nearby. Recognizing a little late who they belonged to right before seeing their face. She faced him, equally as annoyed as he was. Letting him catch his breath to speak first.

“You see someone in black? … Other than you?”

Marta let out a hum. “Did a few times. Tried catching them just now.”

“Well, that's a relief. I wasn't sure if they were real for a while.”

“They've been following you all day.”

“I know. Seen what they look like?”

“Nothin' but black robes. Haven't gotten the chance to get a closer look with 'em, bein' so flighty.”

“Great.” tapping his book to his head. “Instead of chasing lets- … Go to the hall, first.” Glancing around. Outside having eyes all around he couldn't take the chance. Heading there with Marta not far behind. In the privacy of his room he continued on his plan. “Let's just observe. They have to stop following me eventually and go somewhere to sleep.”

“What if they start getting too close?”

“Then step in, but it's too easy to see one of us coming and bolt. A mob hunting around would scare them off entirely. I don't want that, I want to catch them and figure what all this is about. Whether they're plotting something bigger than stealing to survive.”

“Mm, so I watch from afar for what?”

“Figure out who they are or at least where they go. Maybe there's more than one sneaking around.” Breaking down what he wanted her to look out for. Setting everything up for tomorrow with the hopes of better news to come.

Another day came and went, another zero with a slash. His second shadow made their appearance throughout the day. Blake couldn't think of any other option. Should cancel hunting for now. No meat, but I cant keep risking the hunting party crossing paths with the Voltaire. His next morning meeting with the lords had him announce the decision. “With the aggression of the Voltaire stalking the hunting party. I've decided to hold off on hunting entirely to keep the group safe.”

John was taken aback at the news. “You can't do that! What about feeding everyone? Are we really canceling all hunting in the most important season for it to be done?! We can't grow anything and we'll be eating through our reserve in a couple weeks.”

Liam agreed. “You're letting him walk all over us. When's enough going to be enough? Kill 'em already.”

John softened up on his stance. “We don't need to kill her, they're stealing because they're starving. Are we really going to kill people trying to survive?”

“Yes. We have to think of ourselves. Finish them off while they're down!”

“No, we won't.” Blake stated. “No ones gotten hurt, but we haven't caught anything in days and the Voltaire are clearly keeping too close a track on you. I rather not risk your lives while I can just buy more food if it gets bad enough. I've counted again and again and we have enough to last us well to next summer if we stick to the rations.”

“Let me go out again. If I catch smaller things instead of deer we would-”

“No.” Blake stopped him. “Hunting will be held back until the snow melts in spring. When foraging can be done, maybe the Voltaire will leave us alone.”

Marta bringing up a serious possibility. “What if they don't?”

“We'll have to deal with them more aggressively. We can't cancel hunting for forever.” Writing down a note of no hunting beside the future meat logs. Disappointed how things were going, but he wasn't willing to be aggressive yet. “John, you can work with who you want until hunting picks up again.” Dismissing the lords to continue on with their day. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't let Val walk all over me like that. Do I send John out with some guards? What if a fight breaks out and someone dies? Should I catch them and toss them in jail? At that point I'm still feeding them, but at least they'll be controlled.

Book in hand he followed his usual schedule of counting supplies. As expected the numbers slowed to a stop. No more harvest was left to gather. Seeds were all collected and set aside along with the prepped food. From here on the food numbers would naturally decrease. Noting in his book of the day this plateau hit to remember it for next year. Heh, I already see myself staying here for next winter. Laughing on the inside about all he was leaving behind so easily. Did it really matter so little to him? His apartment, his car, his possessions. Soon those would be gone after none of his bills were paid. Photos of me and Lynn. Should I go back for those? Our wedding album. Heart aching at the thought of seeing the pictures. Knowing he'd never have her back. Maybe that's why he didn't keep the photo of them with Jessica. He hated keeping depressing keepsakes, preferring to look forward in moving on. It's what helped him for the most part after leaving his old school.

That night dreams of Lynn's rotten corpse mocked him for wanting to forget. “You did want me dead. Why else would you abandon everything? You never cared. What did those wedding vows mean to you? Go home, stop wasting time here with these psychos. Stop helping them, let them die. Let the heretics run this place into a painful grave.” In those dreams he took what verbal beat down she came to deliver. Each morning he woke it was harder and harder to rise. His only relief was that nothing much was happening. Two days had passed since he called off the hunt and sent Marta spying. The Voltaire hadn't made a move in days since the hunting was halted. whoever the skittish one was, wasn't doing anything but disappearing. Marta still couldn't confirm who it was or even where they went. It made them both feel like a ghost was haunting Blake.

Blake woke recently to a sharp pain in his stomach. Flipping in bed to grab one of the nearby leak buckets. He gagged a few times, but his empty stomach couldn't bring anything up. He shook and slumped in bed under the covers. It was the morning of the third day and he didn't want to leave. Uncontrollably shaking he tensed at the sound of steps passing his door. Wanting to run away, but had nowhere to go. Last thing he wanted was to see people. Voices made him feel worse than the steps. Were they talking about him, or something else? Were they going to knock on his door? Idea of hiding under the bed offered some relief. Through careful deep breaths his racing heart slowed to a normal pace. His wheezed hyperventilating lifted enough to slow his shivering. At his desk he tapped the top while his leg jittered. Glancing between his notebook and the map. Little marks of Val's last appearances not helping, he ripped them off.

“God, what do I do?” He groaned, rubbing his face. Already regretting the stopping of hunting for meat. How many vegetarian dishes could he stand until spring. Meat was pretty important to keep everyone healthy after so badly being starved. Give the orders and rush everyone to the mines to have the Voltaire killed? Set out traps to catch them all. Keep them locked away in cages to be forgotten. I don't think anyone would oppose me. They'd be celebrating their capture and cheering for their deaths.

They deserve it... Don't they?

… But what have they done that Temple Gate hasn't?

Murder, cannibalism, torture, everything else. Only difference was if they did it for God or the Antichrist. Rubbing his head. “Ugh, what do I do? What to do?”

A knock at the door startled him out of his chair. Calming himself before answering he paced in a loop back around to his door. Expecting Marta with some important news.

Instead he was met by James holding a serious face. “Foods been stolen.”

#Outlast 2 #Blake Langermann #Marta Outlast #Val Outlast #Temple Gate #Outlast 2: Deliverance #Outlast 2 fanfic

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tutor-maryam · 2 years ago

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siconetribal · 2 months ago

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Beyond the Bookshelves (11)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: "I see."

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Sorry about the delay. I ended up getting more tasks for work right after traveling abroad. It was a scramble to get the last 2 months caught up.

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Loki stood awkwardly in the sterile environment, too far from the door to leave yet close enough to not hover over the staff member dressed in a white coat. Y/N lay motionless on the atrocity that is considered a “bed”. A cuff was wrapped around her bicep which whirred to life with a few button presses. It inflated until it looked as if it would burst before slowly deflating with evenly placed clicks until numbers popped up on the screen. A plastic device was clamped over the tip of one finger and more numbers came onto the screen. The medic then slipped a metal probe encased in plastic into her mouth. Another portion of the screen lit up and a new set of numbers came up. He was not entirely sure what all these numbers meant, but it was clear by the frown that it was not good.

“What are these numbers and why are you wrapping her in such machinery? She fainted, how do all these gadgets treat that?” He finally asked two of the questions that only grew in number with each new thing. The staff member turned to face him, sizing him up.

“And you are what to her exactly?” The question was simple, but the scrutiny in the medic’s gaze gave pause. Was he being questioned on why he cared for her? Or was he being reminded rhetorically that he was an outsider and that he simply should leave?

If it’s the former, well is it not obvious? She is a thorn in my side. The vile villainess who dared to ban me, a prince, from the library! She is a haughty midgardian who lacks any proper etiquette towards royalty though she is surrounded by knowledge. He recalled their “first encounter” and the texts. His frown deepened. An oddity in this world that does not follow the norm. “She is someone I made to work with on a large assignment given to her by Fury. I need her to be normal for the work to be done and I can be freed of this extra burden.” He finally responded.

“I see,” was followed by silence. “This medical equipment does not treat her. It allows me to gather necessary information to best assess, diagnose, and treat her. Is there anything that happened during your assignment that I should know about?”

“That it has yet to start, because she simply vanished for a lengthy amount of time and only recently returned? Or perhaps her incessant chattering with the equally annoyingly talkative Rogers?” And I was forced to wait, none the wiser of her absence. “You've gathered your vitals, what is wrong with her?”

“I see, so she was traveling recently for work?”

“As per her claims.”

“I see,” the medic turned and began to tap away on a tablet. That two word phrase was beginning to poke at his nerves.

“And?”

“And do you know where she had gone in her travels?”

Do I look to be her keeper? I only brought her to you to be treated, not be her living diary! He bit back the words and dulled his sharp tone, taking a deep breath. “Do I look like her keeper?”

“I am simply gathering the necessary information to better assess her.”

“And how would knowing where she traveled be of any use to you?”

“Climate, environment, and what the current illnesses are currently on the rise.”

“No, I do not know where she went nor did I ask her or anyone. I was preoccupied with more important matters.” Loki took another deep breath. Will these insufferable questions end and the treatment begin?”

“I see,” his eyebrow twitched at the repeated statement. The medic moved from Y/N’s beside.

“Are you not going to cure her now? Where are you going?” The younger prince turned on his heel to see the medic start tapping away at a computer. “What are you doing now? What could possibly be more important in that hellish void than healing a fallen midgardian?” His jaw tightened at the series of clicks and clacks that came from the mechanical keyboard.

“I need to document my treatment in her chart.” The forever unperturbed voice of the medic was like nails on a chalkboard. Was there no sense of urgency? Was the health of someone who could outrank an Avenger mean so little? Or were the staff uncaring because he was involved? Was he hindering proper treatment because he was so hated and she was being associated with him? He glanced over his shoulder at Y/N. Her eyebrows were furrowed, creating creases in her forehead; and her breathing was labored and shallow.

“Is it necessary to do that right now?” The medic turned from the monitor and silently observed the irritated royal before refocusing in the computer screen.

“Yes, it needs to be done timely.” Once again, a sluggish and bland tone that gave no sense of security. “Do you plan on staying here with her?”

“Why would I stay here with her? Treat her so that she is back up on her feet and I am free of this unnecessary burden!” He demanded.

“I see,” his hand twitched at the statement that was repeated for the umpteenth time. It took a great amount of control to not summon one of his beloved throwing knives to threaten the medic into working properly.

“I highly doubt it.” He coolly retorted. “You’ve done absolutely nothing to treat her and are now requesting me to watch over her while you galavant off to do absolutely nothing. You've only assessed what I have told you multiple times, the Librarian fainted and needs to be revived. You have done nothing to remedy this.” He forced his jaw to unclench so that his words were clear for the pathetic midgardian in charge of care.

“There’s no medicine on Earth that can suddenly revive someone who has fainted as she has. As per what you said, she fell unconscious and did not hit her head, recently returned from a trip, and has been recently assigned something that requires the assistance of an Avenger. Coupled with her vitals, I can say she is safe from serious danger and will get better. It will take time, some medication, and proper hydration.” The medic walked past the irritated Asgardian, donning gloves after gathering some supplies. Loki observed the odd steps taken, skeptical and confused as part of her arm under her elbow was wiped and a needle with some tubing was inserted. The tubing was then attached to a bag that was hung above Y/N and drops of clear liquid began to steadily fill a chamber. Then the medic brought forth a syringe and poked something into the bag, pushing it into it. “She’ll need to rest here. I can’t say when she’ll wake up, but you can stop by and check in a couple of hours. The IV and medication will help her. If that’s all, I’ll be heading back to do my charting.” Seeing the prince stand there in silence was sign enough for the medic to walk out of the room and head to the back office.

That’s it?! That’s all that can be done? And they simply wash their hands of the matter and move on? What could that ridiculous excuse of a physician possibly have seen if that was all that could be done?! Loki had half the mind to teleport to the back and demand more be done, but stopped himself. Why am I so aggrieved by this? This is all her own fault! Why am I wasting my time here when she's the one who abruptly left me banned from the library for weeks? This it's simply the consequences of her actions. I have no work to be done at this moment, I need to eat and head back to the library to avoid all unnecessary interactions. He turned to the door and resolutely made his way back to the cafeteria to get some food.

Where am I? Y/N slowly slipped back into the world of the conscious. Her head felt like it was skimming on water and one arm felt a bit swollen. Forcing her eyes open, she blinked away the bleariness to see the IV drip and digital monitor. I'm in infirmary? How? She craned her neck to look around the room a bit before dropping it back against the pillow. Obviously someone brought me here, because I sure as hell know I did not bring myself. I went to lunch with Jess and she was telling me about a new recruit for the Avengers. Another super soldier, I think? Or was it something that has to do with Steve and not a newcomer? Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the oncoming headache. Don’t worry about that detail for now Y/N. Focus on not having your brain rip itself in two. She used her free arm to rub her face.

“I was talking to Jess, we ate lunch in the cafeteria, and we were walking out together. She was fussing over my health and then what happened? Did I black out?” She frowned. “That’s not good. Fury’ll be furious if my report isn't in by tomorrow, pun intended.” She mumbled aloud to herself. “What time is it?”

“It’s currently 19:30.” A voice off to the right answered her. Rolling her head to the side, she saw one of the nurses step through the glass door, the curtain half drawn across the glass wall for some privacy.

“Seven thirty? How long have I been here?” Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and opened them once more.

“You were checked in at 13:06 and have been under observation for fever, exhaustion, and dehydration. You’ve been asleep the majority of the time. We were told that you were travelling recently?”

“Yeah, I had to go to all the SHIELD libraries to make sure the new network was functional and the staff properly trained.” She muttered, rubbing her face. “I was working on the reports and took a break for lunch, but that's the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

“So no issues in remembering what happened prior to the incident. Do you recall hitting your head on something?”

“Hitting my head?” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to recall what happened in more detail. “No, I don't recall. I was talking to my friend and I just blacked out. No, wait, I did fall. I got dizzy and blacked out for a moment. I stumbled into the wall and slid down. Jess was freaking out, I used the wall to stand up again, and then I passed out again.” She opened her eyes again and turned to the nurse. “I don’t remember bringing myself here.” She frowned.

“You didn't, someone brought you in while you were unconscious.”

“Oh, I guess Jess called for assistance.”

“No, one of the other personnel brought you in.” Y/N’s head jerked up off the pillow at this detail.

“Another? Another who? I can’t have been Jess. She’s strong, but she isn’t that strong. Did she get someone to help?”

“Bingo, your friend Jess found one of the strongest to assist. You were brought in by an Avenger.”

An Avenger? Maybe Steve was nearby. Oh, maybe that's why I thought we talked about super soldiers. “Well, aren't I a lucky gal? Not everyday you get carried off by an Avenger without some life altering calamity happening.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” The nurse laughed, scanning Y/N’s wristband before taking her vitals. “Well, you’re looking good so far. Seems like it was purely exhaustion hitting you hard. You need to rest, don’t go running back to work after so much travel and in so many different time zones. Your body needs to recover.”

“Yeah, I made a promise to someone so I came in Toby away.”

“Y/N, I’m sure they'd have understood. Even if they didn't, your health is a priority to you. No one else is going to care for it for you. So, rest and proper nutrition for the next two days. No rushing to work, I'll post your order so everyone who needs to know doesn't give you a hard time.”

“Thanks, that'll help.” Y/N sat up at the edge of the bed, letting the nurse unhook her from the machines and clear her for leave. “I’ll be sure to stay home for two days as the doctor ordered.”

“Good, now off you go. Do you need someone to help you home?”

“Oh, no need to go that far, I'm fine.” Y/N assured. “Thanks again,” she stood up once cleared and left the infirmary. I’ll need to thank Steve tomor-no, when I get back. I'll thank him when I get back. Being carried by an Avenger is gossip enough, but by the Captain America only makes it worse! She pinched the bridge of her nose. A few days away from work would be the best course of action. P,us I can focus on my reports and submit them without an all-nighter.

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