#wolveria writes

[wolveria]

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #001

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dubious consent, sex pollen

AO3

With infinite universes come infinite possibilities. But even within the threads of innumerable choices, there are… patterns. Threads that will interweave time and again, with no discernible rhyme or reason.

Some call it fate. Others, providence. Humans call it the law of Large Numbers, and that is close enough for what I attempt to convey to the record.

The purpose of this record is to document the threads that curve toward one specific individual. To what end, the Editors will determine. I am simply an observer.

That is what I tell myself.

--The [REDACTED] Wandsman of [REDACTED]

The opening of the outer doors brought his head up, alert and poised for his cruel captors to make an appearance. He had grown agitated, pacing in front of the observation screen, not knowing what had befallen her. His dear assistant, taken away in chains to once again be submitted to the senseless whims of brutish men.

The Doctor did not fare well, his chest a boundless void with each passing moment of her absence. He missed her sweet presence, the comfort that came with it, her touch soothing the machinations of his restless mind.

Of course, that same touch could also light a spark in him, setting the fatwood ablaze, and it took all of his considerable will to smother the flames before they spread beyond his control.

It was a different sort of fire that consumed him now, rage curling around his heart as his assistant was carelessly shoved into the chamber. She caught herself on the autopsy table and leaned her weight against it as her legs seemed unable to steady beneath her.

Her bare legs. The grey medical tights she usually wore were missing, leaving her only in the white smock.

Possession, a creature with liquid fire for blood and flame-kissed metal for claws, a beast that demanded retribution on any who had dared touch her. It raged within his dark form, but he held it at bay for her sake.

The Doctor was at her side in an instant, and the ravenous beast was temporarily sated as he caught hold of her shoulders. She appeared weak, or fatigued, and he feared she would collapse from the way she trembled.

Despite her clumsy gait, she stepped into the circle of his arms and held him, her grip strong with desperation. The Doctor blinked. It was not unusual for her to return in such a state, affected to a degree that left her on the edge of ruin.

But this seemed... different. Unfamiliar, the way she pushed her face into his neck, breathing in deep as if to catch his scent, her fingers pressing divots into his back. Her body crowded him, restless, pressed flat against his surface and straining to be closer.

Deep within, something flickered to life.

“…Doctor Reid?”

He hadn’t intended her name to come out as a breathless rasp, but he was caught off-foot, not entirely sure how to approach this novel situation. This close to her, surrounded by her familiar fragrance, there was an underlying chemical he didn’t recognize.

Alarm jostled his thoughts. He might not know the compound, but he could sense its nature, a hormone intended to affect mammals in a particular way.

His assistant didn’t answer him with words; she slipped a leg between his, attempting to straddle his thigh, a precarious position while they still stood. She wasn’t deterred, holding him tighter as she rocked against his hip.

The Doctor’s mind struggled to assess the situation correctly, but his body responded with a haste that outpaced his good sense. Heat licked up his abdomen and his member stirred, threatening to expand out of its sheath with the sudden blood flow.

He jerked back, forced to catch her when she nearly spilled to the floor.

 “Assistant, please.” He held her firm but kept a modest distance between them. “I need to know what was done to you. Do you remember?”

She licked her lips, pupils blown as she tried to focus on his face. And she did try, he knew from the dip in her brow and her confused frown.

“Y-yes. A gas. They m-made me inhale it. I tried n-not to breathe, but...”

“I understand,” he said, soft. Despite the irritating reactions of his body, his heart ached for yet another indignity she was forced to endure. “Your predicament is through no fault of your own. I will attempt to provide aid. If you could please tell me your symptoms, I shall try to find a remedy that—”

“No!” She shook her head, words choked, eyes wide. “He said n-not to. Leahy. He said no... no antidotes. Nothing f-from your bag.”

His eyes narrowed, venomous barbs curling around his chest as they always did when he was reminded of the Site Director’s existence. The Doctor would love nothing more than to adorn a pair of gloves and wrap his fingers around the man’s neck. He would not wish his suffering to end too swiftly, after all.

“What is the purpose of this drug?”

His assistant shook her head again, discomfort and unease lining her features. She squirmed against his grip, sweat beading on her forehead below her hairline.

“He didn’t say. They just... gave it to me. Nothing happened, at first. And then as they were bringing me back—”

She released a noise, her legs rubbing together as she avoided his gaze.

“Please,” he gently said, “tell me what you are experiencing. If only so we may relieve the symptoms—”

Another noise from her, this one pained, and she wrenched from his hands, surprising him with her strength. She slipped within the confines of his hold and crushed her body against his, gripping his robes as if she were drowning.

“Hot,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Too much. Need it to stop. Need—”

While he reeled from her sudden proximity, she grabbed his hand and shoved it under her smock, forcing him to cup her. The shocking heat was the first thing he noticed, the second, how she was soaked through her undergarments, wetting his fingers with barely a touch.

He had lived a long life, longer than even he could remember, and never once in his great existence could he recall a time when his mind simply... stopped. Nothing passed through it except a soft sort of buzz, like one of those televisions that no longer received a signal.

The noise she made was unholy, sinful as she rubbed herself on his hand. Her face was against his collar, pressed into the loose fabric that encircled his throat. His skin had always been muted to sensations, a barrier between him and the outside world, but he could feel every heated breath she exhaled, ever scratch of her nails and the slick essence leaking from her.

His assistant was dwarfed in comparison to him, yet she pushed him, forced him in retreat to the inner chamber, all the while her lips explored his neck, guiding his fingers for the relief she sought. There was only a thin barrier of cotton between her flesh and his, and it would take so little effort to pull that barrier aside and gift her with exactly what she needed.

If this event had occurred earlier in their partnership, the Doctor would like to believe he would not be the empty-headed fool he currently was. He would have much more restraint, in control of his own faculties, and he would put a stop to this entire affair.

As it was, he remained frozen as she backed him all the way to the desk, his hips pinned against the edge as they could retreat no further.

She pulled his hand away from her slick heat. Any return to his senses that might have happened were thwarted as she dropped to her knees, her fingers searching, exploring for something at the joining of his legs.

A strained, choking noise left him. She could not possibly know about—

“I’m sorry.”

Her apology came out like a prayer, hushed and desperate for salvation.

“I’m sorry I’m sorryimsorry—”

She found the opening of his internal sheath, her fingers sliding within the slit, and stroked just within as if to coax him out.

It was more than effective. His member pushed through the opening, and he braced his hands against the desk behind him—the air had left him as she took him in her hands. She stroked him, her eyes wide, filled with such desire that he could hardly believe he was the target of such carnal attention.

Lacking any hesitation, her lips parted, and she took him into her mouth, swallowing him down in one smooth motion.

The sharp, visceral warmth of her enveloping him left him without a voice. The metal desk creaked in protest as he gripped it tight; he knew he would leave permanent dents into its surface.

The Doctor could focus on nothing else than the sweet ache she was pulling out of him, laving him with her tongue and sucking as much of his length as she could.

It was... too much, too pleasurable to be real, and yet too wonderful to be a dream. He wouldn’t say he lacked for imagination, but even his mind couldn’t have envisioned the endless landscape of pleasure her mouth provided.

She pulled back just enough to lick the glans, groaning low in her throat, lapping up the lubricating fluid that leaked from its tip. It was an image that would be forever burned into his mind, branded into the depths of his molecules and atoms.

His fingers found their way into her hair, holding the strands that had loosened from her ponytail, what remained of it. The contrast of the soft mane to the rough hide of his gloves snapped him out of his syrupy haze.

“Assistant.”

His voice came out in a croak, unsteady. She didn’t seem to hear him.

He tried again, voicing her title in a bid for her attention, and this time, he knew she was ignoring him.

“Assistant,” he snapped, and she paused long enough for him to take her by the shoulders and pull her to her feet. Her dazed expression was cut through with a look of annoyance at being interrupted from her goal.

The Doctor sighed. He would not think about how that combination of annoyance and desire-heaviness in her eyes was a heady combination.

“It is you who needs relief,” he said. “Not I.”

An arguable point with his phallus hard as steel and pressed against her stomach, but this was not about what his traitorous body wanted.

She seemed to think over his appeal, but her frown of consideration was growing hazy again. His own focus was nearly shattered as her hand wrapped around his length, squeezing and attempting to finish what her mouth couldn’t.

He held her motionless with his own hand over hers, his phallus still in her grip, a compromise since she was determined to not let go.

“What would you like me to use?” he asked, voice gentle compared to his firm grip on her. “My fingers?”

He didn’t often think about his mask, nor what past researchers had told him in regard to it—that he had a human mouth trapped under the chitinous material. But for the first time, he cursed his lack of access to it.

The thought of putting his mouth on her was… was…

She shook her head, regret and a shadow of embarrassment on her features.

“That… that won’t be deep enough.”

Ah. So, that’s what she needed but was too ashamed to ask for, even now in a state of drug-induced need.

He lowered his head, close to hers so it would give the semblance of privacy, even if it was simply an illusion.

“The bed would be more… comfortable.”

It was her own comfort and dignity that concerned him, and he would not take her on the floor or over the desk like some… some animal, but he couldn’t deny he ached for her, the evidence caught between her fingers.

Her expression would have been sweet under other circumstances, the shyness mixed with intoxicating desire. But that was based in a lovely fantasy. The reality was a darker, crueler portrait.

She nodded, her reluctance no barrier between her and the demands of the chemical. She released him, finally, and he covered himself in his robes in what amounted to a pointless display of modesty.

The Doctor led her over to the bed, though he needn’t have. She pressed close to him, as if any degree of separation might give their captors reason to intervene and take her away. He held her just as close; he would not allow them to interrupt her relief, though he’d already concluded this was the point to their new experiment.

Once they reached the bed, he hovered close but didn’t proceed further. He was… on unfamiliar grounds, and she must have sensed it, because she quietly said, “Lie down.”

He would have obeyed any instruction she gave when delivered in that strained, husky tone. Raze the facility to rubble, flay his own hide with his scalpel. Lie atop a bed and allow her to use him however she wanted.

However she needed. He had to remind himself the true purpose of this. Her actions were not under her own volition, no matter the extraneous attention, or how genuine the ache in each touch. This was a means to an end, and he would gladly be her instrument.

His back barely hit the covers before she was astride him, yanking his robes aside. She must have removed her undergarments when he had briefly turned away, because her bare skin was scorching in his lap. Her flesh hot, slick, as she ground against the curve of his shaft.

His hands automatically went to her hips, seeking something to hold, an excuse to touch her. She still wore her smock, though the hem had bunched around her thighs, and he didn’t know why he did it—he pulled the material higher, his fingers stretched wide across her bare skin now on display.

The Doctor might not know the finer points of coitus, but his assistant seemed to know exactly what she wanted. With a lift of her hips, she held his phallus in one hand and pressed the tip against her, and without so much as a word, she slid down.

He could scarcely breathe, the tight flesh of her swallowing him from root to stem, and even with the ample lubrication, the strain on her face indicated discomfort.

He tightened his hold on her hips to dissuade her from doing this too quickly, but she growled through her teeth and pushed downward, hard, the force smacking their hips together, and he swore he saw constellations.

She did it again, and again, until she found a steady rhythm, though it was shaky and desperate, a reminder that this was not some spontaneous tryst. She focused on her task with dogged determination, and he was simply trying to remember his own name.

He closed his eyes and surrendered to the feel of her around him, everywhere, leaving no space between them in a way he’d only dreamt of. And even his dreams hadn’t come close, a cheap, laughable copy compared to the genuine article.

Almost… genuine. Close enough that if he kept his eyes shut and let his mind wander, he could imagine the white sterile walls were replaced with something woody, organic. Natural, in a way this place never would be, and she could be free in a way she never was.

From the slow tightening of her walls to the ragged pace of her breathing, he guessed she was close to reaching her peak but was having difficulty achieving it. He wasn’t sure if he should expedite the process or draw it out, a question of what would rid this cursed chemical from her system more efficiently.

But when she hunched forward, face screwed in concentration as a soft sob left her lips, he made this decision.

The Doctor had made himself a passive participant, to let her use him how she wished. The alternative would be to take her how he wanted, with a force that would leave their relationship forever ruined, unable to hide his actions behind the mantle of helpful concern.

So, he must be forgiven this indulgence. After all, she did need his assistance.

With a firm hold of her hips, he thrust upward, and at the same moment, pressed his thumb into the sensitive nub that had been neglected thus far.

His assistant arched forward, holding herself up by hands on either side of his head, bracing as he took control of her pleasure. With a few thrusts aimed at the inner surfaces she hadn’t been able to reach, accompanied by the movements of his thumb, she toppled over the edge.

Or more succinctly, she crashed. Now entirely folded over him, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, choked cries escaping her as she throbbed around him.

His own control was lost as a strange sensation expanded at the base of his phallus, and he was almost too late to realize what it was. The bulge was halfway inside her before he managed to slip it out, seconds away from unintentionally trapping her around him.

The extra pressure against her entrance had elicited another weak cry, and she ground down on his hips, as if she wanted it—and he spilled into her, unable to stop or pull away until it was far too late.

Not that his actions would have wrought him much; her thighs were vices around his waist, and he suspected even if he’d tried to redirect his orgasm elsewhere, she would have successfully intervened.

When the Doctor’s head cleared enough that it wasn’t filled with pleasant static, he found his arms had naturally sought their way around her, one hand on her back while the other was in her hair.

She hadn’t moved, and by the soft, almost-sobs she made, he knew something was very wrong. He gently stroked her hair, unsure of what else to do. He certainly wasn’t going to move her.

“Doctor Reid?”

She flinched. No, not a promising sign at all.

“I’m… sorry,” she finally whimpered.

He frowned, or his version of it.

“I’m so… so sorry.”

It was then he felt the moisture dripping into the collar of his hood.

“Oh,” he breathed out, both relieved and horrified. He’d begun to fear he’d been too rough, harmed her in his eagerness, but this wasn’t a preferable alternative. “Dear one, you have nothing to apologize for.”

She curled around him tighter, a dejected sob leaving her throat, this one unable to be hidden.

Carefully, he lifted her, only far enough to tuck her against his side. The sensation of sliding out of her was an interesting one, as if he were raw, oversensitive. He would prefer to clean the mess, but he wouldn’t dare leave her now, not when she was on the edge of trembling apart.

“This was not your fault,” he pressed. “You are not to blame. They are.”

She shook her head, another quiet sob mangled as she tried to choke it down. Even now, she fought to hide weakness, vulnerability. He understood this was who she was, burying every sign that she was in pain, and he would not begrudge her that. He simply… wished he could spare her this silent suffering, take her to a place where she would never feel the need to hide.

But that was the entire problem. They weren’t elsewhere.

He lifted the blanket to cover them both, giving her privacy from the unwanted voyeurs as well as warmth for her shivering limbs. An effective strategy, as she huddled close, her face against his chest as if she sought to be shielded against the world.

The Doctor would fill that role to the best of his abilities. He was uncertain what waited them now this line had been crossed. He doubted it would stop at a single test. Whatever the intended result—and he could take a damn good guess what it was—he could only hope they would not expand the experiment to include other subjects.

He had no interest in being used as a stud, and if they even considered turning his assistant into some kind of broodmare….

With the Doctor’s teeth trapped behind his mask, he could only grind them in spirit, but grind them he did. Putting in place the catalyst that would usher the facility’s downfall was becoming more and more appealing.

But his assistant fidgeted, moved closer, as if sensing the dark turn of his thoughts. He brushed them aside, for now, and focused on her. Threading his fingers through her hair, a rumble would sometimes vibrate in his chest, involuntary and unfamiliar, but it seemed to comfort her.

A new ache took residence within him. Her pain was because she thought she had taken advantage of him. The truth was quite the opposite: he had indulged where he should have remained distant, clinical, appropriate. Instead, he had made the fatal mistake of allowing himself, but for a moment, to pretend.

And now, they both suffered, for very different reasons.

He struggled with the words that would encompass his thoughts, aware that nothing would make this right. In the end, he touched the side of his mask against her hair and whispered, “Je suis de tout cœur avec toi.”

She shivered, as if it was a spell cast over her, but she didn’t ask what it meant. She simply held on.

The Doctor returned the gesture in kind. For now, there was nothing else to be done, two souls whose only shelter was each other against the impending storm. And there would be a storm. The Doctor would make sure of that.

[drawings-by-meh]

Poor nervous birb boi

@wolveria

[insertmeaningfulusername]

Thank you for the wip game ask! Still working on mine, but for yours I need to see Crossy getting knocked up

Teehee I'm excited to see what you're cooking and getting to ask you about it :3 in the meantime thank you for the ask 💙

Asdkfjasdklfjdsk Idk why but I have to see trans!Crosshair pregnant. He strikes me as someone who'd never get a baby on purpose and he fights it every step of the way but deep down he'd become so fiercely protective (season 3 corroborates this claim). Also the way the batch would try so much harder to get him to come with them after Kamino falls if they saw that he has, y'know, an additional problem...

Lil snippet (the very beginning of the WIP):

The morning sickness wasn't going away. Crosshair rinsed his mouth out with water from the tap and spat it back in the sink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up and glared at himself in the 'fresher mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes - nothing out of the ordinary since his batch had refused to execute Order 66 and then turned traitor on him. But his complexion had changed, every day taking on a more and more uncannily healthy sheen. A glow. You stupid bitch. Crosshair ran his palms under cold water and then over his face. He scrubbed at the skin there, hard, until it felt red and raw. You fucking whore. Couldn't keep your legs closed for even one mission.

[morethansky]

You're actually so mean for having so many wips I want to know about. I want them all.

But I will settle for two. Because I NEED a Crosshunt, but I also really want that Anakin/Ahsoka one??? Holy shit yes??

So I would like to know more about "Departure" and "tantiss amnesia" plz :3

I'm also mad at myself for having so many wips I want written already!

I answered the "tantiss amnesia" one here! Feel free to ask another Crosshunt if you like :D

Yesss, I love Anisoka! My OG TCW ship. "Departure" is about Anakin leaving with Ahsoka after "The Wrong Jedi." They go on a self-discovery road trip and end up freeing enslaved beings and assassinating renowned slave masters while awkwardly navigating their feelings, now that they're living together but no longer master and padawan. Also Ahsoka starts to really pay attention to the dark side flaring up in Anakin, but the situation also removes him from Palpatine's sphere of influence. Eventually Fives and Rex get in touch with them and tell them about the chips, and soon there's another slave master they're going to have to assassinate!

"I understand, more than you realize. I understand wanting to walk away from the Order." "I know," Ahsoka said. She hesitated, his brokenhearted expression making her resolve to figure this out for herself, by herself, crumble. From the start, just being in Anakin's orbit had made her put aside all the rules and boundaries she had set for her life. So she did what she always did in these situations: She improvised. "You know, it's funny," she said. "I spent all my life thinking I was one of them—hoping to become a Jedi Master one day, to sit on the very council that cast me out. But you and I—we're not like them, are we? We stand by our friends. We feel and we hurt and we love, and no matter what we do, we can't find it in ourselves to be sorry for it." She exhaled, suddenly feeling as if the galaxy was hanging in the balance. "So I've been thinking, maybe I could do more good from outside of the Order." She looked up at Anakin. "Maybe...we could."

Feel free to ask about more of my terrifying number of WIPs here!

[corundumb]

Writing Patterns (Tag Game)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by: @wolveria

Gonna have to break the rules a tad, I don't have many fics actually posted I like to write many pages.

During ceremorphosis, a newborn Illithid sheds Its skin as well as the memories from the Host. (placeholder name: Something closer. BG3 The Emperors view unposted.)

The larger the home is, the more people are needed to not have it feel empty. (placeholder title: Vampires and Werewolves, Oh My! ft. @chesserans characters Hajimari, Tatsu, and Jesse with my own characters Emma, Nix, Sarin, and Damon unposted.)

The white breads baked in the ovens while the dinner rush crowd came and went, they're nearly cool enough to cut into and the extra thick whipped cream was resting in the fridge for better flavor. (placeholder title: Food for the soul. A fanfic for @wolverias fic The Raven's Hymm with her oc Kenneth, with my ocs Emma and Nix. Unposted)

The castle is magical, as are the residents. (placeholder title: Responsibilities The Royal Jesters fanfic in @head-in-the-iclouds world/au, Unposted)

If you've read this far, consider yourself TAGGED lemmesee

[doublesunsets]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

So, @ithillia @wolveria and @mamuzzy came into my house and pointed a stylographic to my head telling me to write or else. Kidding, they just tagged me, and I'm glad because I have so many wips abandoned, so many, and I would like to find the will to finish them.

So yeah, this is from a Fives x Reader that I managed to push forward a little bit--

“Don’t let him see your face right now,” Echo whispered in your ear, startling you, “he is doing it like that on purpose. I can assure he doesn’t need to stretch that much to remove it. Don’t give him that satisfaction.”

Oh, yes, Echo is around there as well.

NPT not as many words, force not, but first you three again @ithillia @wolveria @mamuzzy-creates-stuff in case you want another push 😁 plus @nika6q @freesia-writes draw anything lately? Aaaand idk who else is writing/drawing rn! Feel free to reach out and I’ll tag you next time and we can help each other to that little push of creativity 💪🏽

[ploo-toe]

The Most Important Thing

SCP 049 x Fem!Reader

Notes: This is a short blurb inspired by the most recent chapter of The Raven’s Hymn by @wolveria, as well as my first work back into the writing world.  I hope you enjoy it!

He was well aware that humans possessed certain… needs. And up until this point he had thought himself above the matter.  Of course he had thoughts driven by emotion before, things unfit for a healer.  But this was different.  

Suddenly all his senses had rushed away, until all that was left was her before him.  He could feel her back pressed against his chest, her head nestling in the crook of his neck.  And for a moment, his resolve broke.  He allowed himself to relish in the warmth of her; his sweet assistant.  A shiver ran through her body as his weight pressed against her further and his breath ghosted over her shoulder, caging her against the counter.  049 let his hands leave their place beside hers to make their home on her hips.  He could almost taste her honeyed skin on his lips.  A low, strangled sound made its way from his throat, his thoughts consuming him.  The files they were studying were long forgotten.  He had  never felt such a primal need; nothing had ever been more important.  

She was always so caring towards him, braving such harsh tests even though she was much more fragile than he.  Much more soft.  She insisted on taking care of him, staring at him with such gentleness and adoration.  Oh how he would love to take care of her in return.  His hands squeezed at the thought.  She gasped, bracing the counter further.  

He stiffened, eyes shooting open.  He hadn’t remembered closing them at all.  His hand still rested on the countertop before them.  All of the sounds rushed back to him, the harsh stares of the vultures behind the glass bore holes into his back.  The doctor cleared his throat, briskly walking to his journal.  

There was work to be done, the pestilence was all that mattered; the most important thing…  wasn’t it?

[loverboy-havocboy]

Song Poem Challenge

Starting a new post, put your entire song collection on shuffle, then write down the first line from each of the first ten songs that pop up to create a poem. You must then dedicate the poem to the blorbo or OTP that it most reminds you of! Then tag or send asks to others that you think might enjoy the challenge!

thank you for tagging me @ithillia this looks so fun 🥺

hung high and dry where no one can see

you know i'd fall apart without you

hey pretty baby with the sun in your eye

no halo

what if, what if we run away?

little things become everything

i was the one who wanted nothing

breathe in

from you to me

you and me, we're not the same

ohh hmmmm. well it's giving me commander fox pov. maybe quinfox?

np tags: @sweetlittlestarbursts @kartaylirnaak @insertmeaningfulusername @babygirlbridger @echo-lover @wolveria @goddammitjim @gun-roswell @brokenphoenix99

[gun-roswell]

Song Poem Challenge

Starting a new post, put your entire song collection on shuffle, then write down the first line from each of the first ten songs that pop up to create a poem. You must then dedicate the poem to the blorbo or OTP that it most reminds you of! Then tag or send asks to others that you think might enjoy the challenge!

Thank you for tagging me @loverboy-havocboy

This is so up my alley, they poetry that is ;D

No pressure tags: @rendomski, @backgroundfoxe, @wolveria

I cheated a little though and only used the very first word of the songs either from title or first line.. But hey, everything is fair in love and writing so here goes! Title from Blondie’s Call Me (as modified to suit the fandom). Comm me!

Comm me on the line anytime, I’ll arrive When you're ready we can share the wine

Hello my love it’s been a long while And no, I’m not saying it with an evil smile Leaving you was never a choice, but a regret I made that very choice and had to live with it But if you say the words I so long to hear Running to you so very fast, from far or near If you’ll have me back that is I know this time we’ll make it last no jest So comm me, any time, day or night I will be waiting, forever and a day

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 40

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

CHAPTER WARNINGS (Rated E): Explicit sexual content, monster fucking, nonhuman anatomy, non/dubcon (more on the side of dubcon), intense but brief anxiety, hurt/comfort

Chapter Summary: “Is there any other way?”

AO3

It felt like the last day of your life.

You didn’t move from the bed for some time. Waking up within the warm circle of 049’s arms, your cheek resting against his chest, was something you never thought you would have. It also came at great cost, and you would pay it soon.

But when? When would the deed need to be carried out? Were you supposed to start immediately? Wait for instruction? It was a horrible thought, but you wished Leahy had been clearer about what exactly he wanted. It was the gaps of knowledge, the unknown parts you were supposed to guess at, that left you frozen with indecision.

049 didn’t rouse you, though he must have known you were awake. He didn’t speak, and you didn’t either. There wasn’t much left to say, but it seemed there should be. You weren’t going anywhere, so why did it feel like you were supposed to say goodbye? Express regrets and wish for things you could have done differently. It felt closer to mourning than it did waiting for an execution.

049 only stirred when the food slot opened, delivering breakfast. He carefully ran his gloved fingers along the back of your hair, his breath tickling the crown of your head.

“You should eat,” he said softly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I assumed as much.”

You curled closer, seeking out his comfort, and then you stiffened. You sat up quickly, letting his arm fall away from your shoulders. You didn’t want him to think—you just wanted closeness, not…

With a bitter glance at the camera, you moved down to the foot of the bed and got out. The bed itself had one side pushed against the wall about midway up the room. The bookshelf was at its head, and beyond that, the desk and bathroom area. But towards the foot of the bed, in the back corner, sat the camera. It would give a perfect view of… of…

You retrieved the food tray and laid it out on the counter, leaving plenty for 049 to partake, though most days he didn’t. You forced yourself to nibble as much as you could, your stomach too much a knot to allow more than a few pieces of fruit and half a bagel. It was an unfortunate side effect of your anxiety. When you needed energy the most, that’s when your body refused to have an appetite.

049 didn’t comment on your sudden departure, and the air in the chamber was somber. That’s what it felt like, the both of you preparing for a funeral. It almost made you break the silence just to say something, even if it was mundane small talk. You wanted to ask about the medical files, or his journal, or anything at all. Something to fill the space with more than just heavy waiting.

The silence stretched on, though really it was more accurate to call it white noise. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights, the dull rumble of the air conditioner. It was the ordinary ambience of an office space minus the water cooler chatter. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine you were back at your old office, ignorant to a world that made little sense and held even less compassion.

Your period of waiting was interrupted by a click of the intercom. You flinched upright on a lab stool, like a rabbit hearing a gunshot in the woods, ears perked and legs tensed to leap. You’d been staring vacantly at the medical files, not reading the words or seeing the faces, and now your full attention was on the speaker in the ceiling.

“Tonight.”

That’s all they said. You couldn’t tell who the voice belonged to—not the Site Director, but the order clearly came from him.

Tonight. It had to be done tonight.

“What time is it?”

049 had been at his desk in the inner chamber, but he stood at the threshold between the chambers now.

“Ten twenty-five, AM.”

You didn’t doubt his innate ability to sense time. He was never wrong. Your stomach roiled but you kept down your meager breakfast.

The day passed with a vicious graduality. You wished they had given a specific time. Or given no time at all. It was as if this whole project was designed to break your mind as well as shred what was left of your dignity.

At some point, you put your head down on the counter, hunched over on your stool, reports forgotten. The darkness under your crossed arms was a respite from the constant fluorescent lights, a shield from the observation window. Let them see you defeated. There was something freeing about having nothing left to hide.

Time passed in a restless haze between dozing and spacing out. Two meal deliveries signaled the passing of the day, and you ignored them. 049 didn’t attempt to speak to you, perhaps knowing this quiet deprivation was what you needed. He had always been perceptive that way.

You didn’t focus on anything at all until a gentle touch grazed your arm. You didn’t flinch. There was only one person who would touch you that way, and you wouldn’t retreat from him.

“Doctor?”

You raised your head, blinking at the bright lights and bending your back to sort out the kinks. You looked over your shoulder, but 049 didn’t speak immediately. He simply studied your face, his eyes soft with concern.

“What time is it?” you asked. What else was there to track but the time?

“Ten minutes after seven.”

“Mmm. When does the sun set?”

“Half past the hour.”

Punctual as ever, your masked physician. You gave a small smile, but it felt empty. It faded as you looked past him to the open door of the inner containment chamber where you spied the bed and its innocuous dressings.

You turned back to the counter and braced your hands against it to push yourself up. No point in delaying. Sunset was the best indicator of night, and it was better to get it done and over with.

Maybe… maybe it would be easier after the first time.

You didn’t know how you managed to make it into the inner room without stumbling. Your knees were shaking, your calves constructed of gelatin, and your lungs pulled for air.

You walked toward the bed, and then past it. You turned around and walked the other way. You paced, back and forth, your breathing becoming more erratic, spots dancing in your vision.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do thisyoucouldntdothisyoucou—

Something broad and dark blocked your way. Gentle hands held your shoulders in place, and 049 said, “Breathe.”

You tried to obey, but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Slowly. In… and out. As I’m doing.”

You copied his breaths, slow and steady. In for several seconds, hold, then slowly out. Repeat. Focus on his breathing and nothing else.

When your body wasn’t wound as tight as a coil, you swallowed compulsively and chanced a look. 049 met your gaze steadily. There was no fear or anger there, just the weight of his worry.

You pressed your lips together to keep them from trembling, and your voice came out a whisper.

“Is there any other way?”

It felt childish to seek comfort in this moment, but you were weak. Too weak to find a way out of this, too weak to prevent this from happening. Too weak to face this alone.

His hand cupped the side of your jaw.

“If there is, I do not see it.”

Your head dipped in agreement. This was it, then.

049 pulled you into his arms, and he held you carefully but warmly. Always so warmly.

“This isn’t the end,” he said low in your ear. “We do as they command, we survive another day on their terms, but it will not always be this way. And there are things not even they can take.”

When you pulled back there was certainty in his eyes, along with something else. An intensity buried within that stirred something inside you, and this time, you didn’t stifle it.

“Okay,” was all you said. You took his hand and led him to the bed.

You let go when you got under the covers and made room for him. You pulled off your leggings and underwear, keeping the white smock on. Fuck whoever was watching, you weren’t giving them more of a show than you had to.

049 joined you under the covers more slowly, his movements careful as he laid down. He didn’t touch you, and it took a moment to remember what he’d said before. In this area, you had more knowledge than he did, or at least more practical experience. You would have to lead.

“Do you need to get undressed?” you asked, not sure how this was supposed to work with his robes also acting as skin.

“No. This will be sufficient.”

He was on his side facing you, but he seemed indecisive. Out of his element.

You gave him a small smile only he could see and took his arm, gently tugging it toward you.

“Come here.”

He obeyed, but his movements were still cautious, testing the waters. You continued to pull, indicating you wanted him to lie on top of you, and his eyes focused on your face, uncertain.

That trepidation vanished as soon as his weight settled on you, his hips nestled between your legs. You moved them apart, making room for him. His gaze darkened and his hands curled into the sheets on either side of your shoulders.

Your smock was caught between your legs, putting a barrier between you, and you pulled it up to your stomach. 049 closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath as your bare skin pressed against his robes.

The intercom clicked on.

“No covers.”

049’s eyes flew open, a soft growl escaping as he reached behind him to throw off the blankets from the bed. He muttered a heated, “Va te faire enculer,” in the direction of the camera.

You had no idea what he said, but you certainly liked the way the crude French rolled off his tongue.

“My… apologies,” he said, turning back to you. “I should not have lost my composure.”

You bit your tongue to keep from telling him losing his composure was necessary for what you were about to do. He would learn that soon enough.

“It’s fine.” Your voice was gravel. You cleared it. “Are you ready?”

His gaze softened, and oh, it had a dangerous affect at close distance.

“I am. Are you?”

You nodded and winced at the clinical nature of it, but that was probably the best approach. Have sex only long enough for 049 to orgasm, and then it could be done with.

Except you couldn’t stop trembling. It was equal parts anticipation and nerves. If you’d had sex semi-recently (how long had it been?), perhaps this would have been much easier. You could treat it as a chore, an item to check off your duties for the day. Or more accurately, something you had to do under threat of further torture and humiliation.

Except your body wasn’t responding as if it was under duress. The tension that had been growing each day you spent with 049 was building to a point of unbearable pressure. Your cheeks were hot, skin tingling in all the places you touched, and you could only guess what your expression looked like. With the way 049’s gaze roamed your face, taking in every detail, you were more exposed than your half-nakedness.

What did it matter how clinical you were? You ached to touch him, to be touched, and you refused to allow 049’s first moments of intimacy be cold and distant.

You hooked your arms under his shoulders, splaying your hands across his back and gently pulled him down until his chest was against yours. 049 gave a shudder when more of his weight rested on you, his breathing slightly off-rhythm.

That’s it, you thought, rubbing your hands across the back of his shoulders. Just relax.

His face pressed against the side of your cheek, the curve of his beak against your jaw, and you automatically opened your legs wider. Your heart was hammering, and the trembling was there but not as harsh. Your own body relaxed under his weight, yearning for his hands on you, but he kept them dutifully gripped into the bed sheet.

Something warm and heavy pressed against your hip. You frowned, confused as to what it was, and then understanding hit you when you shifted against it and 049 released another halting breath.

You tilted your hips up in silent permission, keeping your lips firmly closed, not knowing what sounds you would make if you opened your mouth. You wanted to take him into your hands, discover the shape of him, get him to make more of those noises that he was keeping trapped in his throat.

But you kept your hands on his back, and 049 adjusted himself, moving one arm between you. He grabbed himself to line up with your entrance, but he hesitated, even now with his eyes dark and his voice a rasp.

“Are you sure?”

You made a kind of strangled noise and nodded.

His eyes grew darker, a new hunger in their depths, and he lined up with you, the head of his cock pushing against your folds. You drew in a sharp breath. The shape was different, the head tapered, and it pressed against your entrance.

The head slipped inside with some resistance, and that’s where he couldn’t go any further. He was wider past the head, larger than a human, and you weren’t nearly wet enough yet.

“Keep going,” you grit out. You kept your face as blank as possible, but something of your pain must have shown through.

“I have- in my satchel, there are bottles. Lubricants I can retrieve—”

“No.” You gripped his arm. “No, don’t leave.”

If he left now, you’d lose your nerve. You couldn’t start this over again. You couldn’t.

“Stay,” you repeated, your voice shaking as if you were on the verge of crying. Because you were. “Please.”

He released himself, settling his weigh again as he cupped his other hand against your hair.

“I will not hurt you.”

You wanted to say he wouldn’t, or if he did, you could take it—you’d endured far worse. But you remained quiet, distracted by his thumb stroking your hair. His gaze was thoughtful, slightly off focus.

“There are… other methods I can employ to make the process smoother.”

“Okay.” You would agree to nearly anything at this point, just as long as he didn’t leave. “Whatever you want.”

Your nerves were frayed, the trembling was getting noticeable again, and you regretted not eating anything all day. You waited, not sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for 049 to bring his hand towards your face. He hesitated, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. You searched his face questioningly, and he took a breath.

“Since I cannot do it myself, I will need you to coat my fingers with your saliva.”

Oh. Oh.

You swallowed and nodded. For having all the experience, you were the one slow to catch up, but your apprehension melted when his fingers touched your lips. The tip of your tongue tasted him without thinking.

His eyes grew sharp as he pressed his fingers past your lips into your mouth. You welcomed the intrusion, sucking the digits automatically, tasting the strange, living leather.

The pads of his fingers pressed down on your tongue. He probably wouldn’t need to do anything more than that to get you ready, but you weren’t going to stop him. Heat pooled low in your gut, fueled by his single-minded focus on your mouth.

There was no true reason for you to swirl your tongue around his fingers or to suck them down nearly to the last knuckle. No rationale behind it, yet you did it, imagining another part of him heavy and full in your mouth. 049 sucked in a breath and shifted his weight. The warmth of his cock against your leg along with the pressure in your mouth had you salivating. By the time he removed his fingers with a wet pop, they were slick with your spit.

049’s hand slipped between you again, touching your inner thigh. His fingers trailed upwards, dipping between your folds, and his fingers pressed against your clit.

Unlike when he joined you in bed, filled with uncertainty and doubt, his fingers moved with precision. Surgeon’s fingers. They pulled you apart with gentle eagerness, coaxed with deft certainty. First one finger than two circled around the sensitive nub, stimulating it into hardness with startling ease.

A surprise moan punched out of you, and you tilted your head back, fighting to control your breathing.

049 dipped his fingers down your slick folds to your entrance, prodding inside without much resistance before dragging his fingers back up, drenching your nub with your own arousal.

“What—” you choked out. “Where… did you learn to…”

He spoke into your ear, a hint of smugness to his words.

“The human body is familiar territory I have traversed countless times. It has its secrets, but I know them all.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, your chest rising and falling too fast as you tried to remain somewhat in control. His fingers slipped back inside your entrance, rubbing against the spongy material on the inside wall as his thumb rubbed circles against your clit.

You weren’t going to last long like this. He’d already made you wet enough so penetration would no longer run the risk of injury, but he didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to stop, you wanted to come on his fingers just as you’d wanted to when he’d given you that first examination, unfairly making your body respond like a well-tuned instrument to his ministrations.

Your peak was rapidly approaching, and it was not one you would be able to bear in silence. It was going to hit you hard, for everyone to witness for their dissection and cataloguing.

You couldn’t—you didn’t want them to—

“Stop.”

It was a testament to his self-control that 049 stilled his movements. You were breathing hard, sweat damp on your skin, a ruined mess with just a few strokes of his hand.

049’s focus was sharp, devouring in the way a predator would savor over their prey whimpering between their claws. But he didn’t move, and concern crept into his eyes as he searched yours.

“I don’t… want them to see.”

Your eyes burned with humiliation, with the force of your need and the shame of it.

“Turn me over.”

His gaze flickered with understanding, but there was concern there too, and he seemed as if he was going to speak. But then he removed his fingers from inside you and lifted up, a hand on your hip turning you onto your stomach.

When his weight settled along your back, his cock pressed against your thigh, you bit into the pillow to muffle the moan. It felt different in this position, your hips automatically lifting from the bed, desperate to rub against him. There was no hesitancy this time, your need far greater than your fear. You didn’t care what the cameras saw now, what little they could see. He was once again shielding you from your watchers, his broad form keeping their prying eyes from your skin.

Your smock had ridden over your breasts, and your pert nipples rubbed against the sheets, drawing out another low moan. 049 adjusted himself so his cock hung just behind you, heavy and hot against your folds.

“Please,” you begged, your knees braced against the bed, lifting your hips as much as you could with him weighing you down. “Please.”

He growled low, his face pressed into your hair just behind your ear, and he lined himself up. He pushed, the head of his cock breaching your entrance easier this time, followed by the wider length of his girth.

You whined between your teeth, the stretch almost too much even with your arousal making a mess down your thighs. He held your hip with one hand, biting out something in French.

Insatiable, you tried to meet him, pushing back, and forcing another inch or two inside. He gave a gutted noise, as if the pleasure was almost too much. It was a beautiful sound; you wanted to hear it again. You tried to wiggle further backwards, take more of him, but he grabbed your hip firmly with his other hand, making you still.

“Wait,” he spoke in that same breathless shudder. “One moment.”

You didn’t have a choice with his vice-like grip on your body. He breathed heavily, a shiver rippling through him, and God, you wanted him fully inside you so much it hurt. The cameras, the observers, they didn’t matter in the face of the hunger that licked up your thighs and heated your core.

“Please,” you whispered, his face so close you didn’t need to speak louder. “I can do this.”

He let out a small breath that might have been a laugh.

“It is not a question… of your capability.” His words were taut as a wire. “It is a matter of strength, and how I must... restrain mine.”

You took his hand and placed it on the bed, slipping yours underneath. You twined your fingers with his, your knuckles braced against his palm. What should have been a lethal touch, but for you, never would be.

“I trust you.”

049 shivered, his forehead pressed against your hair, his body trembling in an effort to remain still.

“I need you.” You squeezed his fingers. “I want you.”

You sensed when he stopped fighting it. His posture relaxed, no longer rigid, and he pulled back a few inches. He pushed back in, the sudden intrusion hot and wet and sending sparks up your spine. You arched back against him, and the next thrust went deeper.

Unshed tears blurred your vision, the stretch and fullness almost too much and yet not enough. It was on the third thrust that his hips connected with yours, snug against you as his cock filled you past what any other human could.

You could barely think, barely breathe, your body a useless, lustful thing. A moan dragged out of you as you leaned back against him, and with his own answering growl he pushed you flat against the mattress.

The restraint he’d tried to maintain was gone, though his movements weren’t careless. Each thrust down into you, each roll of his hips was done with intention, a drive to ruin you for anyone else. You were completely full, your walls clinging to the strange textures of his skin, the curve of his cock striking a deep bundle of nerves you didn’t even know were there.

His skin was hot, almost burning every place he touched you, his cock sending jolts of heat down your gut. His breathing ran ragged, accentuated by the harsh metallic effect of this voice. Any moans that slipped out were quiet but choked with pleasure, driving him harder into you.

Your mind was a bubbling, staticky mess. 049 wasn’t just thick, there were ridges along his shaft, a pattern you couldn’t discern, not with your mind a jumbled haze. Every thrust rubbed against more than one sensitive spot, leaving you a drooling, panting mess as your walls slowly tightened around him. You were close to reaching your peak, and this time, you weren’t going to stop.

His hand hadn’t left yours, his fingers clawing the sheets underneath. But his other hand rounded your hip to press flat against your abdomen, right above your pelvis. Comforting. Protective.

Possessive.

White light burst behind your eyes. You were a vice around him, forcing him to slow as you throbbed and arched your spine. 049 growled, losing his rhythm. Something large pressed against your entrance at the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what it was, but you grinded against it with a single-minded need even though it was far too large for you to take.

More French expletives spilled from him as he forced you to remain in place, but the hot barrier pressed against your entrance as 049 shuddered with a low growl that was almost animalistic. He throbbed inside you as he gasped for air, each breath hot against your neck. He dipped his head against your shoulder, releasing your abdomen to slide upward, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You released a heavy breath and relaxed, bliss washing over you like a soothing wave, aided by his warm weight on your back. You still pulsed around him, but it was a dull, pleasant sensation. Closing your eyes, you let yourself stay in the moment. No thoughts or worries or fears.

Just him. Only him.

Next Chapter

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

5 Things I like Writing About

Thank you so much for the tag @insertmeaningfulusername and @the-starry-seas ^^

I'm only experimenting what are my favorite things to write about, and most of them aren't even written, but I started to notice a pattern ^^

Established relationships (like already a couple, or married). I really like topics where there is a conflict or internal issues, they overcome it as a couple. Sooo they are mostly hurt/comfort.

People or group who are outcasts, not fitting in everywhere, "us vs them". Being lonely in a community.

Ugly part of mental illnesses and neurodivergency. The ones you wouldn't put on showcase because they are not a "good" representation. Broken people trying to survive and cope.

Monster AUs: Merfolk, naga, succubus/Incubus AUs, demons/spirits, wings...

Post-apocalyptic AUs and/or dystopian worldbuilding.

NPT (in a new post please!) @ithillia @riinoaheartilly @nooneherebutusghosts @hurryupmerlin

@loverboy-havocboy @wolveria @aggy72 @babygirlbridger (where are you??? O____O)

@dogmafives @battlekilt @whiskygoldwings @hastalavistabyebye @corrie-guard-things

@hexerein @doublesunsets annnnnd aaaahhhh... whoever sees this.

[spicedrobot]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @bluedaddysgirl! Sorry this took so long. ;;

I'll tag: @withercrown @a-aristippus @lacertae-dreamscape @aevallare @loveoaths @kevystel @frogunderarock @wolveria @dreaminghour @bright-thorn @kitewithfish

And anyone else who wants an excuse to do this please tag me I'd love to read your answers!! 🥺💖💖💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

134.

2. What's your total A03 word count?

444,065

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I started my writing days in Overwatch and most of my fics are from that era, but most recently, I've written for Star Wars, Baldur's Gate 3 and Arcane.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

A New Era - First Jayvik fic I wrote, and somehow it's at the top of the jayvik ao3 tag by kudos even though it's mindrot I wrote between episode breaks. Sorry long form jayvik writers ;;

Lost Time - life-affirming jayvik sex after the s1 finale. I'm just now realizing that all my top kudos fics are jayvik LMAO

Opposites - jayvik fic where someone talks up Viktor at a party and Jayce gets jealous.

Arcane Ficlets - my randomly assorted Arcane stuff I wrote via tumblr asks. All jayvik too 😂

Warm Heart - Viktor has cold hands but Jayce knows just how to warm him up.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! But sometimes it takes me months to get back to people. Once the inbox number ticks up I get a little nervous ;; which only makes the problem worse!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I tend not to write anything that ends too angsty. I have one or two that have a sort of bad-end vibe. Usually I'll write an angsty ending then delete and rewrite. LOL

Maybe this silco/viktor fic: Back Down? Since Viktor knows he shouldn't be messing around with Silco but he's so drawn to him.

Runner up: one of my ramyatta fics Stargazing because it shows the difference between their past relationship and the present at the end, where they are no longer together. t _ t

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Encore, since I wrote it because Outer Wilds canon endings beat me up so badly. LOL

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Very rarely!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Almost always. Any kind, basically. LOL I love pining and unestablished relationship like crazy, and both characters just falling into sex with each other. Blow jobs, possessiveness, breeding kinks, ritualistic sex, size difference, voyeurism, smell stuff, sex pollen, outfits... a VERY wide range. 😂

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I almost never write them. I think I have written a few fics that just takes characters and puts them into another game's setting, but that's about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Most I had one of my ramyatta fics translated into chinese. I've also had my only symbrock fic made into a podfic.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. I've done a fic with bluedaddysgirl that was Thrawn/Cad Bane, but mostly I collaborate with artists to do illustrations of my work. I did some RPing back in the day, but none of that's going to see the light of day LOL

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Probably genyatta? But honestly, I have so so many. Obimaul also has a special place in my heart.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My last year's nanofic. It was an AU where Bo-Katan never saved Obi-Wan from Mandalore, so he remained Maul's prisoner. It was going to be a what if where Maul realizes he doesn't know what to do with Obi-Wan now that he's finally exacted his revenge, and they would slowly fall in love while doing powerplays the whole time. LOL It was a bit weird because I had to write it so fast, so a lot of the fic was just Savage and Obi-Wan interacting, so it almost made it seem as if they would be the better pairing TBH. It just needs so much reworking and IDK if I have the power. It probably just needs an entire re-write.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel I'm very good at condensing ideas into short word counts. I also think my sex scene writing, specifically my dirty talk, is pretty good! That's one of those things that I can't stand to read if it's bad in fanfic, so I try to make what they say as in character as I can. 😳

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing anything longer holy shit. I'm really terrible at it because as soon as I have to deal with pacing it's a death sentence for my motivation. 💀💀💀

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It can be done well? But only if you are a fluent speaker. I personally don't do it because I'm an idiot who only knows one language, and I don't want to mess up the mood of writing by accidentally making an embarrassing gaff in another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

In my life? Probably Kingdom Hearts. On my ao3 account: Dragon Age: Inquisition.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Definitely Polite Company, my Obimaul reverse AU fic. It's the longest thing I've ever written and posted. SUCH a comfort fic to me, and it was a blast to work on. There's just something so fun about writing Jedi Maul that I still can't get over it. The ideas kept coming for that fic which almost never happens for me, and somehow it was fairly well received, which I'm just so ridiculously grateful for. I'm always surprised at how much Obimaul isn't a main pairing for Obi-Wan when they have such ridiculous chemistry. Not even 600 fics on all of ao3 for them💀💀💀 A crime!!

[battlekilt]

@wolveria

#star wars#jedi meta#clone meta#clones#jedi#that's what i've been sayiiiiing#they love each other so much#however you choose to interpret that#the genocide of the jedi was the beginning of the extermination of the clones#it was forcing them to destroy their own hearts#and most clones never recovered from that#a few did but for the majority weren't the same#order 66 was the death of two peoples#and i imagine that the order worked as well as it did because the jedi loved their clones so much#that split second of hesitation to kill their own men sealed their fates#i can and will write about this all day and you bet i ham-fist that angst into any post-66 fic i can

*bitebitebite*YOU-GET-IT.

I could write about this meta for days on end.

[huntressdarkness]

Get to know you game: Answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to know better

Tagged by @tonyskittymug. Thanks for the tag!!!

Last song listened to: Rescue by Tommee Profit (totally not a Batch song idk what you mean -)

Currently reading: Worlds Apart but if my own fanfics don't count then On Frozen Wings by @wolveria

Currently watching: The Bad Batch (surprising I'm sure ;)

Currently obsessed with: ... Who else? The Bad Batch. <3

Tags: @backgroundfoxe @wolveria @morethansky @bloody-writing @inkyclone99 @prowlingthunder @amberskyyking @eriexplosion @akingnotaprincess

[doublesunsets]

Thank you for the tag @willowmckinley this are always fun to do and to read!

LAST SONG: OK, this one is embarrassing, but the code of honour of tag games won’t let me lie… it’s baby shark. Yes, I know. In my defence, I’ll say that my niece was here earlier. CURRENTLY WATCHING: Renegade Nell, so far it’s been… eclectic THREE SHIPS: RaylanBoyd (I’m not even gonna delete this one) Newtmas (tmr reinassance era) and oh god there are so many I don't know which one to pick for the last one??buuut FivesEcho (Fives' figure literally in front of me) FAVORITE COLOR(S): Purple & Red CURRENTLY READING: The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts CURRENTLY CONSUMING: Spicy Doritos FIRST SHIP: consciously? Sakura/Syaoran (Cardcaptor Sakura), but I do remember thinking that Usagi and Rei (Sailor Moon) were in love, only I didn’t know that was possible back then PLACE OF BIRTH: Fun fact! Not the one on my birth certificate, my mother and the nurse lied 🤷🏻‍♀️ CURRENT LOCATION: My desk RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single LAST MOVIE: Dead Poets Society CURRENTLY WORKING ON: I just found a silly headcanon thing on my drafts that I don’t even remember writing, so I’m finishing it lol besides that, sadly nothing

NPT: @verdika @wolveria @mamuzzy @thebookishwitch @ithillia @fenharel-enaste @motte-the-goblin @skellymom

[waves-against-a-cliff]

The Inconvenience

This is an SCP work, entirely outside of my normal realm of works so please forgive any first timer mistakes and leave feedback. This is a completely self indulgent however. Please check out @wolveria's The Ravens Hymn since this is a writing piece related to it.

This document is to never reach the hands of Site Director CLASSIFIED. Strictly only O5 and Ethics committee personnel are allowed to access to this document. If caught accessing this without proper clearance, a member of security will be sent to your direct location. See O5-1 or O5-3 for more information about CLASSIFIED

Item #: 8179

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8179 is currently uncontained despite previous attempts. All future attempts at containing 8179 must be cleared by a member of the O5 council or the head of the Ethics committee. No one being victimized by SCP-8179 is allowed be notified about SCP-8179. If the current victim figures out they are being targeted by an anomaly, do nothing about it.

Description: SCP-8179 is an anomalous occurrence that affects one person at a time. The current target of 8179 is CLASSIFIED. SCP-8179's entire existence seems to revolve around making whoever it deems as the worse possible person's life miserable. Previous victims have been listed in Addendum.8179.1. All documents pertaining to 8179's possible appearance have been sealed and archived. 8179's currently victim of choice is Site Director CLASSFIED and like previous chosen victims, is suffering from inconveniences ranging from minor to personally nearly catastrophic. See Addendum.8179.2 for current list of events.

SCP-8179 is capable of moving objects. 8179's farthest movement of an object is 56 miles. SCP-8179 does not choose a new victim immediately following the death of its current victim. The longest period between victims is 30 years.

Discovery: SCP-8179 was discovered on September 6th, 1956 after its first known victim within the SCP Foundation reported a long string of inconveniences. The victim reported over 100 events linked to 8179. The victim was dismissed but two weeks later the victim submitted video evidence of 8179 following them. After this an extensive investigation occurred that led to 8179's designation, object class and several failed attempts at containment. The closest the Foundation has to containment for 8179 is letting it torment its chosen target until it changes targets or until the target dies.

Addendum.8179.1

Researcher Jones was the first victim of 8179, she was located at site 32. Jones was a middle-aged White woman who had worked at the Foundation for 15 years. No family or friends outside of the Foundation. Researcher Jones first reported anomalous occurrences on September 6th 1956 but 8179 wouldn't be catalogued or designated until September 21st 1956. Researcher Jones is suspected to have been tormented by 8179 since 1954 but Researcher Jones own evidence only dated back to February of 1956. Researcher Jones would suffer from SCP-8179 until she took her own life in 1968 after missing several meetings about a possible promotion due to her alarm clock being submerged in water, turned off and located nearly a mile away. Researcher Jones is noted as 'being a stuck up bitch' by many of her colleagues.

D-3245 or otherwise known as Johnny Bryne is the second target. Male of mixed Hispanic and Irish descent, early 20s. D-3245 was tormented by 8179 for only July and August of 1969. D-3245 was killed during a security breach of site 12.

Site Director Garcia, located at site 76 was tormented by SCP-8179 from 1999 to 2003. Site Director Garcia was a male of Hispanic descent, he died in 2003 from a heart attack after SCP-8179 dumped all of his medication into the garbage disposal a week in a row. He was 75 years old. Following his death it was discovered at Site Director Garcia had embezzled over 1 million dollars USD over his career.

MTF Operative CLASSFIED was 8179's fourth victim, CLASSFIED was a CLASSFIED who died in 2004 shortly after 8179's torment began in 2003. CLASSFIED died in an OP to secure an SCP from the Chaos Insurgency.

REDACTED

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Containment Specialist Taylor who worked at Site 19. Taylor was an African American woman in her late thirties and was 8179's seventh victim. 8179's torment began in 2009 and continued until Taylor was killed in 2019 from the last security breach of Site 19.

CLASSFIED is the eighth and latest victim of SCP-8179 starting in REDACTED.

Addendum.8179.2

Favorite mug was dirty despite being washed the night before. 6/18

Microwave melted CLASSFIED's lunch. 6/18

Keys were moved from CLASSFIED's left desk drawer to the right desk drawer. 6/18

Computer crashed right before CLASSFIED went to save the document CLASSFIED had worked on for five hours. 6/18

Car broke down in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception despite cell towers near by. Took 3 hours to walk to the nearest gas station. 6/18

Front door lock jammed as well as the back door. 6/18

TV remote was misplaced for six days until CLASSFIED found it in CLASSFIED's filing cabinet. 6/20

CLASSFIED's lunch was thrown into a containment area and unretrievable. 8/1

CLASSFIED's keys were once again misplaced but found in the bathroom. 8/1

Phone was knocked off desk despite being no where near the edge. Entire screen was shattered and had be repaired. 8/17

Despite bring lunch to work, CLASSFIED's lunch was left at home. 8/19

CLASSFIED's alarm clock didn't go off and wasn't found until a month later. 8/30

CLASSFIED had bought another alarm clock in that time, two days after the first alarm clock was found, both went missing. Still not found. 10/2

CLASSFIED's shoes were tied together when CLASSFIED went to stand up from desk. Trip and fell in front of Researcher REDACTED. 10/6

CLASSFIED's entire computer exploded in the middle of an update. No injuries occurred but all data was lost. 10/23

CLASSFIED was reported to complain about CLASSFIED's room always being too hot or too cold. Hidden thermometer recorded a high of 85 and low of 30 in the same night in CLASSFIED's bedroom. 10/31

CLASSFIED's heating and AC broke 11/1

Favorite mug was shattered 11/2

Keys were misplaced and found three hours later in the bathroom.