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wolveria · 8 months

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The Raven's Hymn - Ch 42

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, sex under surveillance, references to reproduction, monster anatomy, dubcon

Chapter Summary: “Tonight."

AO3

You hadn’t realized how exhausted you were, your nap turning into a full night of sleep. Another day passed, and then two turned into three. No visits. No tests. No demands for another “session.”

It was... suspicious, the lack of orders, the lack of harassment and humiliation. There were other little things as well. The meals you were provided were bigger (though now sans the wine glass), and sometimes an additional item was left with the meals or the fresh piles of laundry. It was typically a new book, and one especially exciting day, a newspaper.

You couldn’t remember the last time you read an actual newspaper, probably when you were a teenager, but you latched onto it over breakfast. The date nearly threw you into a shock. If the dates were current, you’d been in containment for the entire summer, the fall season nearly arrived.

The Site Director was taking his time, and you suspected you knew why. During your entire time in containment, you hadn’t had a menstrual cycle. It wasn’t uncommon for acute stress to affect hormones enough to induce amenorrhea. Healing those patients might have been a way to increase your dopamine production, or even possibly stimulate your abilities.

Of course, it had horribly backfired, and you’d nearly had an anxiety attack when 049 was hurt, so now you were being kept in your cage and given more treats. If Leahy thought that was enough to make your captivity comfortable, then he was an idiot.

You wish he was. A dangerous idiot was maybe something you could outmaneuver, but everything he did was calculated. That brought up the third object now being left alongside your meals: a handful of pills.

“Vitamins,” 049 had said when you’d asked if he could identify them. “Combination vitamins, to be exact. But this one has more iron than the typical daily allotment.”

“Prenatals,” you’d said softly.

“Ah.”

The single syllable had been quiet in understanding. The sword of Damocles returning, waiting to fall.

You glanced at 049 where he stood at the counter, busying himself with more notes and medical files, though these days you got the feeling his mind was elsewhere. He was warm to you, civil, sharing the bed at night but nothing more than that. It was stupid to be bothered, to expect 049 to suddenly develop a romantic streak, especially given the constant surveillance.

But you couldn’t help remembering that first morning after as you got ready for Kenneth’s round of healing patients. 049 had been teasing, almost flirtatious, and you missed that. Selfishly wanted that attention when it wasn’t yours to have, and growing restless over the polite distance you didn’t want.

He also hadn’t spoken to you about what happened with the man you had cured. But you had an idea about how to have that discussion in private, and it had smacked you in the face one evening when 049 had been writing at his journal. You didn’t know how you hadn’t thought of it before.

You left the newspaper where it was, the startling dates urging you to make a move. The clock was ticking in ways you didn’t want to think about. You might have gotten a respite from Leahy’s demented plan, but that wouldn’t last long.

Retrieving your old journal, the one you hadn’t written in since 049 conducted his own experiments, you joined him at the counter. He seemed startled at your appearance, blinking at you in silent confusion.

“I have notes about some of these cases. Do you want to look at them?” Without waiting for an answer, you opened your journal and pulled the pen out of the spiraled spine and began to write.

“Of course,” said 049, a question lingering in his words.

You wrote something on the page at the top and tore it out, placing it into one of the folders before passing it to him. The observation room was at your back, and you knew for a fact the cameras in there were shit. They wouldn’t be able to read a word you’d written if they could even spot the paper at all.

049 stared down at the page.

He touched his pen to the blank space below your entry, writing a shorter response than you would have liked before passing it back to you through the folder.

Frowning, you glared at the words. You’d planned out this whole conversation in your head, but it seemed inadequate now. So, you wrote the three words that seemed to matter the most.

He didn’t pen an immediate response, the tilt of his head allowing him to watch you out of the corner of his eye. You tried for a blank expression and settled for vaguely unhappy.

He finally wrote out his answer and passed it to you.

You scribbled furiously and slapped the folder down before passing it back.

049 sighed.

“Your ideas are intriguing, but they do not hold under scrutiny,” he said. You’d forgotten you were supposed to be discussing this under pretense. “I have been doing this for much longer. You will simply have to trust me.”

“I do trust you.” Your fists curled against the counter, your body stiff. “I don’t trust myself.”

049 took the piece of paper and folded it in half, then half again. Reaching for his bag, he unclasped it, putting the paper within its depths before closing it. No one would be able to find it now, unless they knew specifically what they were looking for.

It was... clever. Very clever.

049 turned and took a step as if to brush past you, but he paused, his chest touching the back of your shoulder as he leaned in.

“You worry too much.”

There was no reason for him to say those particular words the way he did, a low mixture of sultry heat laced with a vague warning.

He left you standing there, trying to collect your scattered thoughts.

“I worry just the right amount,” you muttered, the effect lost as your cheeks burned.

“Tonight.”

The decree was delivered the next day right after breakfast. Probably just as well, the word killed any appetite you would have had, your stomach clenching with sharp, bitter anxiety. You’d hoped maybe this would be easier after the first time. It wasn’t.

You met 049’s eye from across the room. He stood at one end of the counter, his journal open and his pen kissing the pages, not in writing but in drawing. You were on the other end, seated on the counter itself because your ass was sore from the stools, the daily newspaper spread out over your lap.

049’s gaze was heavy, worried. You didn’t like that look, especially since he’d called you out for being the worrywart the day before. To be fair, anxiety was one of your standby modes. Seeing him that way was something to actually merit alarm.

You couldn’t sit there all day, stewing in your nerves. You paced the length of the middle chamber, wishing you’d had the foresight to request a treadmill or an exercise bike, something to burn off excess energy.

049 watched your restless movements, but he didn’t stop you. It almost seemed he was waiting for something, but you had no idea what it could be besides the obvious.

Unable to remain in that chamber a moment longer, pacing in front of the observation window like a restless zoo animal, you went into the inner chamber, turned on the shower, and shed your clothing. 049 probably wouldn’t care if you were sparkling clean for tonight, but it gave you something to do and would make you feel a little better.

You wet your hair, lathered the generic shampoo/conditioner combo into your hair, and rinsed. The warm water on your skin was a comforting relief to your tense muscles. The lack of shower curtain was no longer a bother. If there was one advantage to being forced to have sex in front of a camera, it was that you no longer cared as much about your nudity, especially when said camera was in the opposite corner.

Facing the tiled wall and closing your eyes, you could almost imagine you were somewhere else, somewhere far away from the Foundation’s fixation—

Hands gripped your shoulders and spun you around, pushing you against the wall. It wasn’t done roughly, but your eyes flew open, and you froze so fast it was a flinch. Trying to cover yourself was futility, and your arms were trapped against your chest anyway as 049 pressed solidly against you.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

You heard the words but didn’t react. You couldn’t understand. You weren’t afraid, but confusion ground your thoughts to a halt.

049 took a small breath, his pale eyes studying your face. They drew you in, holding you captive as effectively as his weight did.

“Do you trust me?”

You blinked. Of course, you did, but...

“They will not have a good view at this distance, and with the running water, I hoped we would go unheard. It was the only way I could think for us to speak plainly.”

Your brain slowly churned back into functioning grey matter.

“But you know this cell better than I.” His head tilted. “Will this work?”

It was the way he spoke that finally made your brain kick into gear. Despite his robes flush against your bare skin, there was an urgency to his words. You uncurled your arms from where they were trapped and wrapped them around his neck.

You shut your eyes, breathing deep as the sensation was almost overwhelming. The water spray ran down 049’s hood and shoulders, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, it ran off his robes as if they were water repellent.

“Yes,” you finally said. “It should. If they don’t suspect what we’re actually doing.”

Your chin rested against his shoulder opposite the camera, effectively obscuring you. It was a fairly perfect setup to talk, actually, aside from your nipples hardening against the rough fabric of his robes and you were growing slick with embarrassing speed. At least in the shower, it would go unnoticed. Hopefully.

049 lowered his arms from your shoulders to around your lower back, pulling you close. He understood, then, what this had to look like. Your shudder was not manufactured.

“What is it?” you asked, needing to focus on something on than every inch of your body awakening with interest.

“I... believe I have found a means of escape.”

There was a hitch in his voice. You assumed it was due to the gravity of his idea.

“How?”

He swallowed, the movement caught against your shoulder.

“There is an object within my bag that will assist you in this. I will create a distraction, and during that time when no one is watching, you will retrieve it. Once you have it, you will need to find a way to leave the room. It is of little use in a containment cell.”

You had a lot of questions. Not knowing where to start, you grabbed onto the last part.

“To escape... I need to escape the room?”

“Not necessarily. Simply find a way to leave it. Request to speak to your former mentor. Seek an audience with the Site Director, if you must. Whatever it takes for you to use the object.”

He was serious. There was no going back from this, no room to make a mistake, not if you had to be in the same room as Dr. Puli, or worse, Leahy.

“And how will I use this object?”

“You will know. It will be obvious.”

The vagueness unsettled you. You shifted on your feet, a mistake as his robes slid against your skin. His fingers twitched against your back.

“But we must use extreme caution, they cannot know of its existence. I cannot even tell you what the object is, for your own safety.”

“So, it’s... dangerous?”

“Yes, but not to you. And that is not the reason I cannot give more information.” He dipped down his head, the side of his beak brushing your ear. “You cannot know what it is. Even once you retrieve it, you will not understand what’s inside. And you can’t. If they know of its existence, they will torture you until they have it. If they do not know what it is, then they cannot retrieve it.”

“Then how am I supposed to get it?”

049 paused, one arm rubbing up your back while the other rested on your hip. Your mind shorted out into fuzzy static. You’d already forgotten you were supposed to be faking intimacy. If only your body would understand this was fake intimacy.

“Using your intentions. All you need to do is reach into the bag and silently request for the object I wish to give you. But, in order for it to work, you must use my name. My real name.”

“Your... real name?”

“It certainly isn’t 049.”

His tone was amused, warm, too lovely to be spoken so close to your ear.

“Wh-what is it?”

You couldn’t help the small stutter, the pressure in your gut growing worse the longer he held you close under the running water. A shiver went up your spine, cascading into gooseflesh up your skin, which only added to the already overwhelming sensations.

“Valens.”

Your brows creased. The word sounded French, or at least the pronunciation was. You attempted to sound it out the way he had.

“Val-on.”

The effect was immediate. He trembled, and the next moment you were wedged between him and the wall. The cold tile at your back was a sharp contrast to the solid heat of him against your chest and stomach.

“You must not speak it to anyone,” he urged, breathless. “True names hold power, they should be closely guarded secrets.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

It felt as if he wanted to pull away, but he didn’t, instead nuzzling his mask into the side of your drenched hair. His voice came out as a coarse whisper.

“Speak it again.”

You lifted your chin and let his name roll off your tongue.

“Valens.”

He gave a small, choked off moan.

Your body moved without permission, your composure destroyed with a simple sound. You hooked a leg around his hip, holding him tight so you wouldn’t fall, but there was no need; 049 automatically gripped your thigh and hitched it higher.

There were so many questions you needed answered about this vague, somewhat insane-sounding plan. Instead, your only focus was on grinding against the front of his pelvis, desperate to feel him.

His other hand went to the wall beside your head. A low growl rumbled from his chest, coating his words with frayed restraint.

“We shouldn’t.”

“We have to.” Your lips trailed along where his hood curved down to the tops of his shoulders. “They might not be able to see exactly what we’re doing, but they’ll know from the biomonitors what we didn’t do.”

His grip tightened on your leg, and he trembled with the strain of not moving.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I meant what I said before.”

You moved your hands from around his neck, hooking them under his arms so you could splay them across his back.

“I want you.”

The hitch in his breath, a small puff of air that sounded part relief, part disbelief, was followed by something hot and wet pressing against your entrance. You rubbed against it, realizing it was the head of his cock poking out of the opening of his pants. It must have acted as a kind of internal sheath, and the more you rubbed, the more of his length slipped out.

Even with a hand on your hip, he couldn’t stop you from rutting against him, whimpering through your teeth as your clit rubbed against his increasing length, grinding against every inch you could reach.

With a growl, 049 gripped your other leg and hitched it around his waist, lifting you entirely from the ground and bracing you against the wall. You were aching, soaked with a mixture of your own slick and his precum, but you couldn’t angle yourself high enough to take him.

“Please,” you begged, no longer caring about standing on ceremony. “Please, fuck me—"

His grip was iron, and he pulled back, catching his head on your entrance, and slammed his hips forward. You gave a muffled cry into his shoulder, catching the thick hide in your teeth. 049 began to slide out, his breath erratic.

“Apologies,” he said, horrified. “I hurt you—”

“You didn’t, you didn’t, keep going,” you mumbled, senseless and yearning. “Keep going, don’t stop.”

He hesitated, so you held his shoulders for leverage and slid down the rest of the way. The noise from him was gutted as you took him in, your slick walls hugging him tightly. His uncertainty vanished as he rearranged his grip, hooking his arms under your knees as he pinned you to the wall. At this angle he had you practically curled in half, your legs held wide for him to use you as he pleased.

It was debauched, filthy, something unimaginable a few days ago, but now it was all that you wanted, gripping his shoulders as the majority of your weight rested on his pelvis.

049’s movements were gradual at first, testing the waters, but he soon sped up, each angled thrust punching the air out of you. There was no room for you to wiggle, his strength holding you immovable. The back of your head braced against the tile with a thump, the ache dull and far away from the fire blooming in your gut.

Barely able to keep your eyes open, you looked down between you and caught a glimpse of his cock. It was ruddy and thick, strange ridges covering below the glans and along the base. It was shiny with your slick, and the sight of it moving in and out of you sent an electric thrill up your spine. The pressure between your legs tightened, and you arched your spine as you struggled to breathe.

049 adjusted himself, his hands now gripping your ass as he held you aloft, and he was also getting closer, the puffs of air escaping him harsh and fractured. You felt it again, something large and warm pressing against your entrance, and this time you looked to see what it was.

A bulge protruded from the base of his cock, pushing out of his internal sheath, trapped between your bodies. A knot, you faintly remembered from a Foundation biology course. You couldn’t recall any other details when your brain was filled with pleasant static, but you tried to angle your hips upward, desperate for it even if it wasn’t going to fit.

049’s grip tightened; he knew what you were trying to do, and his thrusts became shallow grinding. You groaned, digging at the folds in his robes, so close. The bulb was pressed right against your entrance, if you could only press down a little deeper—

He pulled back just when you thought it might slip inside. You whined, the pathetic disappointment transforming into a choked off wail when he reached up and pressed his thumb against your clit, and with a few swift strokes sent you over the edge. Not even the spray of the shower could drown out your cries, and 049’s growl followed soon after. He was apparently beyond words as he rutted into you, losing his rhythm as he held you tight against the wall. He throbbed deep, his forehead braced against yours, his eyes half-lidded with hazy pleasure.

It was a look you wanted to see more of. You preferred this relaxed simmer to the worry, the concern. The underlying sadness that had crept in over the last few weeks.

049 waited a moment to catch his breath before carefully looping your legs around his waist from where they’d been hooked over his arms. He held you close, warm and solid, comforting as your own wrecked nerves struggled to come down from the high.

049 carefully pulled out of you, but the sting of emptiness was bittersweet. You held onto his shoulders as he gently set you on your feet, though he didn’t move away. Instead, he took the wash rag that hung from the small shower caddy and pumped out a dollop of soap from the dispenser.

He lathered the cloth, his hands slow and methodical as he washed away what little remained of your sweat. The shower water was still warm, a benefit to having nearly unlimited hot water at the facility, but you were definitely going to be pruney.

His touch left you malleable and leaning against him, comfortable and still weak-kneed. But your thoughts were coming back into focus, and all your previous questions rose to the surface, vying for attention and answers. And while he washed you, a gesture that was as wonderful as it was unexpected, you had time.

You rested your head against his shoulder, your voice raspy as you spoke.

“So... about this plan of yours...”

“Hmm?”

“I have to get some mystery object out of your bag... while you distract everyone. And then I’m supposed to just... know what to do with it once I get in a room with Puli or Leahy. You’re being extremely vague. About everything.”

“Yes?”

049 sounded equally distracted as he dragged the cloth along your side. Half the time it was just his fingers on your skin, and you suspected he was using the pretense of cleaning to keep touching you. You’d been right in your suspicions about 049 being extremely tactile. He just hadn’t had much of a chance until now to indulge the need as much as he wanted.

“How am I supposed to use this... thing? And how are you going to distract everyone?”

“Well,” he said, a hint of humor there as he washed along your back, “it has been some time since I was provided a corpse for study. Who could blame me for voicing my objections to the shameful way this facility is managed.”

You nearly choked.

“I’m sorry. Are you going to ask to speak to the manager?”

“I didn’t plan on asking. More... exclaiming in a loud manner.” He perked up. “Oh, perhaps I could throw something.”

You smiled, half in disbelief and half affection.

“You know... you used to be quite scary without even trying.”

Your smile fell. Suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore, none of it. 049 trying to test the Foundation, acting like his old self in order to help you escape. No, it wasn’t funny at all.

“Yes,” he quietly said. “I remember.”

He gently turned you around so your back was to him, and he carefully started to wash your front. Even though it brought the blood rushing back to your face, you didn’t take the cloth from him. It was nice having someone take care of you. Especially that it was him.

“It’s not a time I remember fondly.” The cloth tickled along your stomach. “But I will do as required.”

“What if they take you away?”

The cloth stilled.

“Then that is what’s required.” His arms tightened around you, preventing you from turning around and confronting him—which was exactly what you were going to do. “It does not matter what happens to me. Once you have the item and use it, the facility will be thrown into chaos. Whatever punishment the Site Director doles out will not go very far.”

“And then as soon as I can, I’ll go to you.”

049 let out a thin sigh.

“I cannot stop you, but I ask that you reconsider.”

“Consider it considered. I’m going to find you.”

The next noise he gave held the undercurrent of a growl, the vibration rumbling along your back. Frustration seeped stiffness back into his muscles, his arm around you too rigid, his former relaxation entirely gone.

Putting your hand over his, you guided the washcloth between your legs.

“You missed a spot.”

He pressed flush against your back, and you put a hand against the wall to keep from colliding with it. He uttered a string of French under his breath, the words sounding filthy despite you being unable to interpret them.

Your plan of distraction sort of worked. At least he was frustrated for a different reason now.

“I really need to learn French,” you lamented.

He eased back only slightly, taking the cloth and gently cleaning away what remained of your... joining? Intercourse? Mating? You didn’t know what to call it, but sex didn’t seem to cover it. And if he kept doing that thing with the cloth, there would be another round of it.

“I will teach you.”

The words sobered you. It was an unspoken promise of the future, one that could only be born if you both escaped.

Regretfully, you drew his hand away from your thighs. You rinsed yourself off and turned around to face him. He stared down at you with a warm mixture of affection and something else. It was soft, intimate, something new. Even if you’d been clothed, it would have made you feel entirely naked.

You wet your lips with your tongue, trying to grasp the words to say. In the end, you settled on the practical.

“Is there... anything else? Before I turn off the water?”

He raised his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as if to memorize the swell of it.

“Much,” he whispered. “But it can be said. After.”

Your entire future hinged on that single word, balancing the fragility of hope and the heavy weight of possible, perhaps likely, failure.

After.

You turned the knob and shut off the water. Without the protective curtain of water, you felt... well... naked. You covered your chest with your arms and shivered.

Reaching past you, he grabbed the towel off the rack and wrapped it around your shoulders. You leaned against him, instinctively seeking out the warmth and protection his presence always gave. Without hesitation, 049 brought you close, his large hands framing your back as his beak nudged against your wet hair. Your heart skipped a beat.

Despite the Foundation’s attempts to twist your affection for him beyond saving, they hadn’t succeeded. And if 049’s plan worked, they would never get the chance to try again.

Next Chapter

#the raven's hymn #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 fanfiction #nsft #scp x reader #wolveria writes

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australet789 · 1 year

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Also like can someone fire Principle Damocles?

He is also a shitass who lacks the balls to do the right thing. He doesnt deserve to be a school director, less to be a “false superhero”

If he wanted to do something he would try and protect the kids that are under his care.

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #ml derision #denis damocles

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kisilinramblings · 1 year

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do you think derision officially killed any chance of a chloe redemption? additionally, what do you think of her development in s5?

(part 2 of tht chloe ask for derision). And this is also coming from someone who would've liked a redemption arc for her. I feel like ppl are mad that Chloe's abuse is being shown in a more serious light in how badly it affected Marinette to the point of triggering her, as if its not allowed to be shown when we were told but not shown, tht she was horrible to Marinette for years.

====

Chloé's character herself made it very clear to Adrien, to us and indirectly to Sabrina, that she doesn't want to change, didn't she not? And a character who refuses to change, won't change.

Chloé : What should I care about what Dupain-Cheng feels? Those of her kind are only there to entertain me. What's the point of having power if you cannot use it on those who don't have it?

S4-S5 is Chloé going back to square 1. Some may consider she is even worst than Chloé is S1, but I need to remind them of actions Chloé did take during the first season.

Origins? Chloé forced Marinette to sit elsewhere. Mocks Ivan and calls him a monster. Mocks also Alya who calls her out for her insensitiveness. Puts a gum on Marinette's seat to put her in her place.

Bubbler? Pushed Marinette aside.

Lady Wifi? Threaten the principal to get what she wanted. Same that she did with Soqueline.

Chronogirl? Take and inspect Alix's watch without authorization nor care.

Mr Pigeon? Plays the victim in front of Gabriel Agreste and says Marinette has copied her design.

Evillustrator? Mock Nathaniel's drawing in front of the class.

Rogercop? Make a comment about Marinette's family not being able to afford a bracelet like hers. Accuses Marinette for stealing said bracelet without proof.

Dark Cupid? Breaks Kim's heart along with not only taking of picture of the humiliating position he is in, but also shares it to the Internet.

Horrificator? Mocking Mylène for being scared to the point of making her cry and hide in the restrooms.

Dark Blade? Forced all other students to not even compete to be class representative. Was set to tarnish Marinette's reputation by learning the content of her diary and reveal it to everyone.

Kung Food? Sabotage Marinette's uncle's soup in a culinary competition.

Reflekta? Ensures that Juleka is not on the class picture so she can have her place next to Adrien. Also, spied and was ready to report Marinette's action to Mr. Damocles.

Pixelator? Mess with the class affected roles, putting Alya in charge of sorting thrash at the main dumpster and for Marinette to be a gofer who will run errands for others.

Princess Fragrance? Tears Rose's letter to prince Ali in front of her. Takes away Marinette's "plushie" and try to give it as a present to prince Ali.

Like, Chloé was clearly a Bully™ in S1. She may not have played bad pranks during S1 (aside the gum on the seat), but she mocked and humiliated other classmates many times and particularly aimed her attacks and comments at Marinette whenever she had a chance. However, unlike the previous years before, Marinette now had confidence to fight back and is not an easy target anymore. And the other classmates have also grown to not stay idle to Chloé's bullshit anymore (see Deflagration). And I wrote in previous post why Chloé is more frustrating and frustrated than ever.

Still, in light of Derision, it is even surprising that the class accepted Chloé to be even present such as during the student film project in Horrificator or the friendly competition between Alix and Kim. Though it is unclear of who invited her. I understand only a very few knew about the prank at the pool, but the cockroaches and other torments Chloé inflicted to Marinette was known. And tbh, while Thomas and Sébastien were there from the beginning as Show Creator and Writing Director respectfully, it is not unbelievable they themselves didn't have a clear idea of the extent of Chloé's bullying then. Even they maybe didn't yet figured what Chloé could be capable of while working on S1. But that is fan speculation. I'm not behind the scenes. At any case, I'm thorned between "part of this episode should have been brought up earlier" yet loving the timing of the discussion between Marinette and Adrien at the end about trauma and healing and the fact they can still date and take the time and it goes so well with the relationship stage they currently are in as it happened during the episode of their first official date.

Anyway, I too was open for Chloé to change slowly by the end of S2 and eventually admit that she was wrong of treating Marinette and the other classmates like dirt, but during S3, I've realized that unlike all them, Chloé was heading in a different direction. Realizing how much of a warning flag Despair Bear was. During S2-S3, Chloé accepted to mellow down and do the minimum required, but only if there was a reward for her at the end. The Bee Miraculous was her sole motivation to be decent. And that only carries on for the time it would last AKA as long as the reward is there and was satisfying. And when Chloé permanently loses her access to the Bee Miraculous, I've written before S4 how it would not be the rock bottom for her yet. That is was just the beginning of the end for her.

Chloé, as a character, is motivated since S1 by status which she associates with power. Since Chloé cannot be a superhero anymore and blames and hates Ladybug for it, I'm interpretating that her character is now more than ever clinging to elite and privileged club she grew up in thanks to her parents as it is still in her reach. She fully embraces the rules and mentality of this privileged elite club.

Still, if you are looking for a character's redemption, Sabrina is starting to engage herself in that trail. She assisted in a lot of Chloé's mischiefs in the past and still is putting with all the crap she still gets in this toxic relationship but it feels like this is about to change. Right now, Sabrina is only in the self-reflection stage, but it is a first step. She obviously didn't like Chloé's answer at the end of Derision. In Perfection, you see that Sabrina is affected upon hearing Chloé said that her best friend position is going to Lila. At least, I think it is worth to keep an eye on Sabrina this season.

#miraculous ladybug #ml season 5 #ml s5 spoilers #ml spoilers #ml derision #ml s5ep14 #chloé bourgeois

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vennyvenadito · 11 months

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I would say it

What they did to Chloe is not justice or karma

What the writers did to her is cruel and disgusting

Sure, she is a bully and a spoiled brat, what she did need to face consequences for that

But this…is just…I don’t have the words to say it

The fact that Andre don’t face any consequences for his actions and also as a reward he now has a new kid to raise its piss me off

That man is not innocent, he did not deserve this pathetic excuse of redemption arc

It also make me sick how people are celebrating this, even saying she deserves this and how they were right all this time about her been an “irredimible monster” and even saying Andre was a caring father to her

Caring father my ass, he is pathetic, an hypocrite, a man child and an coward

Are you telling me the man who raised that child to be an spoiled and mean person is now the victim???

“B-But his dreams to be a movie director where crushed because he become a mayor to impress Audrey and then Chloe came and and-“

Please….SHUT UP!!!

This is NOT Chloe’s fault, no child should be blamed for the parents decisions and actions

And despide her attitude and her actions, you liked or not, she is still an abused child

I’m sick of this “if you are an abused child but you behavior is awful then your as bad and even worst than your abusers”

What is this “perfect victim” thing going on in this show???

“But Mylene was abandoned by her mom and she is not-“

Shut up

“But Zoe-“

I said shut up

No every person reacts to trauma the same way, everyone reacts different

So please, stop doin that

Stop blaming the kid for being abused and not behave as the “poor and perfect victim 🥺”

And also

Can you guys stop blaming Adrien for not telling Mari that he was gonna live Paris??!!

May I remind you he is son of Gabriel Friking Agreste!!!!???

And also stop blaming him for not standing up, this is not his fault, he is a kid under his father’s control

And sadly I really can’t see any moment he would do it because the show want him to be just a trophy for Mari

Just a damsel in distress for our protagonist because this show forget the title of the series “Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and CHAT NOIR”

And Miss Bustier, Damocles and every fucking adult of this show….all you guys sucks!

How the heck you let a child to be the mayor in the first place!!??You guys should know better!

No one did shit to help Chloe, all you did is just “am Chloe please don’t be mean, you have to be nice uwu”

You really tough this was gonna work??

No even you Marinette, you just told her to vibe with her shitty mom because they are both “mean”, no shit why didn’t she change for the better

But you know what, I’m not goin to blame Mari on this, because this is not her job, she is a kid as well, is the grow ass adults job

What this show built up in season 2 was pointless, because why give us a redemption arc for Chloe, why give her deep, why make her sympathetic, why make her the Bee holder if this wasn’t going anywhere??

I hate season 5, I take it back what I say about season 3 and 4, this is by far the worst season of the series in my opinion

That’s all folks

Deer out 🦌

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fandom #mlb season five #chloe bourgeois #mlb salt #mlb #ml writers salt

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zap-me-with-the-creamy-laser · 2 years

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It is a bit of a popular saying and a bit of a cliché what one sees, within a de facto or presumed couple, one half rising and the other half falling. Yet, judging from the experience lived on the same day by Timothée Chalamet and his former colleague and friend Armie Hammer, it would seem that sometimes reality far exceeds fantasy. While Timothée paraded on the red carpet in Venice with a red suit that could only suit him, raising the attention of fans and the curiosity of the media who have been wondering for days what is the secret of this 26-year-old boy who seems to have the world at his feet, Armie Hammer also occupied the front pages of newspapers and social media, but for quite different reasons. The same day as the world premiere of Bones and All, Luca Guadagnino's film about the romantic and tormented life of two cannibal teenagers, the Discovery + House of Hammer documentary sought to reconstruct the accusations that led to the end of the actor's career , accused of sexual assault, perversions, and, dulcis in fundo, cannibalism.

On the one hand, Timothée, fought over by Hollywood blockbusters and European indie films; on the other hand, Armie, a former sex symbol forced to take refuge with ignominy to the Cayman Islands and accused, among other things, of having caused the failure at the box office of Death on the Nile , the film by Kenneth Branagh that precisely because of the presence of Hammer in the cast has risked not landing in the room several times for fear of popular uprising. Unthinkable images even four years ago, when Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet posed for photographers in true and sincere hugs , hoping to soon revive Oliver and Elio in the sequel to Call Me by Your Name already taken into consideration by Guadagnino but which, unfortunately for them and for us, we will never see.

Cercami , the second novel written by André Aciman and set ten years after the summer that showed the first meeting between Oliver and Elio, was supposed, according to the director's original intentions, to arrive at the cinema by 2023, but something went wrong . In June 2021 Guadagnino himself, in an interview with Deadline , explained that, despite his heart will always be linked to Call me by your name , he would have preferred to focus on increasingly American and international projects, keeping silent on the sword of Damocles represented precisely from the scandal that overwhelmed Hammer who, at a guess, will never play Oliver's shoes again. All that remains is to review the old frames by Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet it makes us think that life is strange, that destiny is mocking and that even things that seem perfect are destined to end . We do not know how Hammer's fate will evolve - at the moment, beyond the documentary, he has no criminal charges against him - but it is certain that, somewhere in our fantasy, the two of them are still there, accomplices and smiling, between peaches and red carpet.

#so the media still ships them 😏#at least italian media #of course there are things i don't like and/or i don't agree with in this article #but i liked that they talk about them as a couple #i missed that <3 #timothée chalamet #armie hammer #charmie #cmbyn #bones & all

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vinaliax · 6 days

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Rowle Family

La familia Rowle era una familia mágica de sangre pura. El autor del Directorio de Sangre Pura la considera como una de los Sagrado Veintiocho. Han sido desde hace siglos una familia de alta relevancia en la sociedad mágica británica, portando consigo miembros bastante importantes en ella, así como Damocles Rowle como mayor ejemplo.

⚜ Miembros (Línea de Braxton Rowle)

Braxton Rowle & Antigone Rowle

Braxton Rowle:

Fue un mago que, como su padre, trabajó en el ministerio británico de magia como parte del Wizengamot. Fue conocido por ser demasiado duro en los juicios y su cara nunca cambiaba de expresión de desprecio por cualquiera que se sentara en el medio de la sala.

Nació en algún momento de 1913 en Irlanda, de donde es originaria la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionado en la casa Slytherin. También se estipula que fuera un mago oscuro debido a las tendencias que tuvieron sus hijos en la Guerra Mágica, pero se desconoce si él participó debido a su edad.

Antigone Rowle:

Antigone Rowle, de soltera Greengrass, es una bruja que nació en 1913.

Euphemia Rowle & Thorfinn Rowle

Euphemia Rowle:

Es la mayor de los hijos de Braxton y Antigone Rowle. Se desconoce si participó en la Guerra Mágica, aunque se cree que sí debido a su supremacía y a que es una bruja oscura. Es una persona bastante agria que no se preocupa por nadie, únicamente por su beneficio. Es bastante codiciosa y siempre que oye una moneda repiquetear está ahí.

Nació en algún momento de 1931 en Irlanda, de donde es la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionada en la casa Slytherin. Nunca se casó y se estima que nunca lo hará debido a su edad. La única compañía que tiene es el augurey que como tradición, todos los núcleos familiares Rowle tienen. Se cree que su apariencia tan arrugada es por lo amargada que vive ya que realmente no es tan mayor.

Thorfinn Rowle:

Thorfinn Rowle fue un mago oscuro británico y un mortífago que luchó en la Primera Guerra Mágica aunque no se han encontrado pruebas que lo afirmen. Es el más pequeño de los hijos de Braxton y Antigone Rowle. Ha sido muy cercano a sus primas ya que Rowena es tan solo un año más pequeña que él.

Nació en algún momento de 1948 en Irlanda, de donde es la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionado en la casa Slytherin.

Edvard Rowle & Galane Rowle

Edvard Rowle:

Es un mago oscuro supremacista, aunque no sea información de dominio público. Él trabaja en el Ministerio británico de Magia en el departamento de misterios como jefe/director de este. Ha sido inefable desde pocos años después de su graduación en Hogwarts.

Nació en algún momento de 1933 en Irlanda, de donde es la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió al colegio Hogwarts de Magia y Hechicería y fue seleccionado en la casa Slytherin. Se desconoce a ciencia cierta si participó en la Guerra Mágica aunque por ciertos comentarios que han dicho sus propias hijas, se intuye que sí lo hizo.

Galane Rowle:

Galane Rowle, Yaxley de soltera, pertenece a una de las familias consideradas de los Sagrados 28 de antaño, como la Rowle. Es la esposa de Evdard Rowle; la pareja tiene dos hijas mellizas: Bethanya y Nilssandre Rowle.

Nació en algún momento de 1931 en Escocia, de donde es originaria la familia Yaxley. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionada en la casa Slytherin. Se cree que participó junto a su marido e hijas en la Guerra Mágica a favor de los mortífagos, pero no hay evidencias.

Bethanya Rowle & Nilssandre Rowle

Bethanya Rowle:

Es una bruja de sangre pura hija de la pareja Edvard y Galane Rowle. Tiene una melliza llamada Nilssandre Rowle.

Nació el 4 de noviembre de 1961 en Irlanda de donde es la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionada en la casa Slytherin. Durante sus años en el colegio no le importó mostrar su desagrado hacia los nacidos de muggles e incluso hacia los mestizos. Parecía ser muy cruel como se veía cuando atacaba verbalmente a los nacidos de muggles que se acercaban amablemente a ella. Por esto se cree que pudo participar en la Guerra Mágica, pero tampoco hay evidencias.

Nilssandre Rowle:

Es una bruja de sangre pura hija de la pareja Edvard y Galane Rowle. Tiene una melliza llamada Bethanya Rowle.

Nació el 4 de noviembre de 1961 en Irlanda de donde es la familia Rowle. En su juventud asistió a Hogwarts y fue seleccionada en la casa Slytherin. Durante sus años en el colegio, a diferencia de Bethanya, ella era más cautelosa prefiriendo ignorar a atacar. Aunque parecía ser más neutral en este tema hubo ocasiones en las que se confirmó que era purista de la sangre. Como su hermana, no se sabe si participó en la Guerra Mágica, pero todo apunta a que sí.

IMPORTANTE LEER / IMPORTANT TO READ !

La historia y los personajes (solo Bethanya) son de uso en roleplay amino por su autora (yo), así que no son de uso público ninguno de ellos.

Si queréis saber sobre la línea de Oddmund, decidme en los comentarios para añadirlos al post o en otro.

Don't steal. Familia totalmente de mi autoría, queda prohibido basarse o inspirarse en ella. / Family entirely of my authorship, it is forbidden to base or be inspired by it.

Cr: @chrispenuela / Vinalia (Nilssandre Rowle fue en su origen de la autoría de @goldentcars)

#harry potter #mortifagos #lord voldemort #voldemort #tom riddle #slytherin #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #character oc #Rowle family #Rowle Harry Potter #Rowle

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nothingtherefornow · 1 year

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Sadly and furiously, there's worse teachers than Bustier and Mendeleiv, and worse principals than Damoclès in real life

I've just read stories and testimonials from people about their years in primary and secondary school in France, And I've realized that, in fact, there are really so much worse cases than Miss Bustier, Mrs. Mendeliev, and Mr. Damocles as teachers and principals in real life :

Teachers and principals who aren't just enablers, but bullies themselves. Teachers who select one of their students as a scapegoat to vent all their frustrations, often punishing them unfairly, and ignoring or making fun of their difficulties, humiliating them in front of other students, etc. To the point that it also encouraged others students to bully the scapegoat student. One testimony particularly schoked me :

"I had a teacher who found all possible excuses to punish me, when we had presentations/assignements to make, the others in my class had 1 week to do it... I had to do it for the day after. She very often deprived me of recess, prevented me from going to the toilets, but above all, she couldn't see me so much that she very often sent me to the principal's class to do my punishments. She and the director were very good friends, and the director also had fun punishing me and saying mean things about me in front of her students. I was the student not to become. And this had quite a repercussion since the class of the director attacked me physically and also mentally during the lunch break (the only recess I had the right to because I had to eat), which , over the months, had rounded up all the other classes who came to harass me too (except my class, being aware that I did nothing wrong). And the harassment was even sometimes sexual and I confess that I do not understand how no supervisor could see what was happening."

it's terrifying how Miraculous actually only shows a fraction of school bullying and what a bad teacher is

Fortunately there are also testimonials on teachers who have helped students a lot.

A favorite youtuber of mine spoke of a teacher in a large kindergarten section who had traumatized her, and led her to withdraw into herself and never participate in class again. Then in CP, she had a teacher who was the exact opposite, fair, kind and attentive A teacher who helped her heal the wounds of the previous year. as kindergarten and primary shared the same canteen, the bad teacher and the good teacher already knew each other, and one day the youtuber witnessed a conversation between the two teachers of which she was the subject. The good teacher complimented her student and expressed her joy to have her in her class, while the bad teacher dared to ask "are you sure she is not mentally retarded?" about her former student, and she added that "according to science" students who are too well behaved hid a vice, and that one should not hesitate to often punish them, even if it means going as far as corporal punishment. The nice teacher replied that if she were to come across a teacher punishing his students this way, she would report them to the rectorate, slash their car tires, and set their house on fire. Then the good teacher asked to her colleague "I sure hope you're not that kind of teacher, right ?" Karma is rare in real life, but when it does its job, it's a jubilant moment ^^.

This story may be exaggerated, but I found it interesting to cite it

Myself I had an immense chance to have a schooling which took place without aplomb despite my autism thanks also to the presence of my twin sister (my parents always and rightly arranged for us to be in the same class) and I have always had relatively good teachers.

But reading and listening to this kind of testimonies really makes me realize that there are still a lot of bad teachers who do not just enable but also participate in the bullying of one or many students. Those kind of "adults" are the shame of teaching, people who shouldn't even have the right to teach nor approach children.

SPOILER WARNING ABOUT MIRACULOUS SEASON 5

That's why the episode Confrontation had me starting to despise Caline Bustier and Denis Damoclès a lot less, because it's better to have a teacher and principal regretting their past bullying enabling actions and misleading, and wanting to make up for it and become better, rather than teachers and principals who do enjoy abusing their students and never get caught

#miraculous ladybug #bullying and bad teaching #abusive teaching #school trauma and phobia #I hate teachers and students who abuse and torment others #fuck the bullies #whever they are students or teachers #comparison with real lives testimonies

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sliebman10 · 7 months

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20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

So I wasn't tagged, but I've seen this around and felt like doing it.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

As of this writing, 80. But I have 2 that are currently unrevealed.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

383,943 since 2021.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter, my first love and my main fandom. But I've branched out and written in a few different ones such as Wednesday, Star Wars, Heartstopper and Twilight.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm adding the ones I've written solo, since 2 of my top five were collaborations.

Sanctuary - (Sirius/Remus) The Black Brothers started a werewolf sanctuary while Sirius works with Damocles Belby to develop the Wolfsbane potion.

Family Vacation - (Sirius/Remus) Sirius and Remus meet at a family resort.

Scripted and Revised - (Sirius/Remus) Director Sirius Black takes an interest in Remus's screenplay and they fall in love as they try to get the movie made.

A Very Weasley Birthday - (Harry/George) George celebrates his birthday by throwing an event at WWW.

Babies are Balm to the Spirit - (Harry/George) Harry and George channel their postwar grief by caring for Teddy.

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

Yes. I want to foster the sense of community we get by writing fics and I want to acknowledge that people took time out of their day to let me know their thoughts and impressions.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Umm, none? I don't really do unhappy endings.

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

Probably the Lupin-Black Wedding, where Wolfstar got married postwar.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't (knock wood).

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

Yes, I do. Fluffy smut and smut with feelings is my favorite.

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

I haven't yet...but never say never.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had someone request to do it, but it didn't actually happen.

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

Yes...I did two collaborations through the @mixed-up-writer-fest . They were fun, and I'd be open to doing more.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

In case it wasn't obvious, Wolfstar lol

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmm, I've been pretty good about finishing stuff so I don't really have any fully fleshed out WIPs that I'm not going to finish. The unfinished ones are more just abstract ideas.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I love writing dialogue, and fluffy feels.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sustaining plot over a long period of time (there's a reason I don't have any actual long fics lol)

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

I've never done it, but it's fine if it fits.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

On AO3? Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh. That's a really tough one. I like all of my fics for different reasons. But I will say I was most surprised by Coming Across a Silver Moon, my fairy tale AU.

Well, I picked up the open tag for this....but if others are interested they can pick up the open tag from me :-)

#fanfiction questions #fanfic asks

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pumpkinov · 2 years

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Where the Dust Settles

New Chapter, Now on AO3! Fallout 4 - Hancock/f!SS, Mature.

“And why me?” The wave of tired crashed and broke deep within her rib cage, spewing forth suds of anger that swirled through her throat. “Why did I live and and everyone else died in that fucking vault?”

“You already know the answer to that, you had a kid. Now if you’re wondering why they woke you up again, you might be wondering a long time.”

“Ask the director.” She had no fight left in her. She couldn’t keep this in any longer. She found herself staring at his craggy face. The deep radiation marks, the set of his jaw. His bright, sparkling black eyes. Love, the love for him that had been bubbling around in her stomach raced up her oesophagus like heartburn and her pulse quickened. She raced to memorise every inch of his face. He’d never look at her again after this.

Read Chapter 37 - Damocles' Sword

Or Read From The Start!

#Where the Dust Settles #Fallout 4 #Hancock/sole #Hancock/female sole

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joeys-piano · 1 year

Note

I would like to ask for more detail about the line you chose to highlight in the end notes of "Elation is a Gift: May You Wear It, Wear It Well". Clearly it is (when you understand it)— and you found it to be— a very powerful line, but I'd like to ask for some more words about what you specifically liked about either the words used or the concept, or anything applicable to the sentence that goes beyond what you already shared about it.

You know, provided that's something you'd like to answer~ 🦐

Ah, that line. The infamous line. The line I typed in my google docs and thought to myself, "Damn, this line says something. I think it would speak to some population of the internet if I posted this on its own and let people ponder what drew this thing out of me." That legendary line. The sweet cheese. The "Joey got real for a moment" line. Yes, that one.

The line in question: His Friend, once a stranger and now illuminous as a dream, could hold the collective unconsciousness but not faith that he’d been forgiven.

I like how it's a simple sentence - relatively, yet it carries such a weight. It's a surface-level observation with a realization that brings it home. There's no ifs, buts, whats, whatever. It states what is, so earnestly, that you don't question what it's saying. It's Hob looking at this larger-than-life entity and putting a very humanistic feature upon him. It's human nature to forgive, as it is to think we're unforgiven, or think we're undeserving of that forgiveness for one thing or another. And it's a very human thing because it shows the depth of which we care of something. Or in this instance, what Dream cares about when he sees Hob for the first time in 2022 and calls himself Hob's friend.

Dream humbles himself, in his own way, in knowing forgiveness is not freely given nor that he gets a free bingo card in receiving it when there's a lot he has to speak for. And then we have Hob - maybe the most patient, evolving, far from perfect because he's human, gluttonous at heart with how much he cares and all of that - who looks at this man-shaped earnest being, can see him trying when it's uncomfortable, and wants to show that forgiveness is not something given and taken away. Like how the old gods strike a famine once the believers turn their backs.

Forgiveness doesn't require faith nor sacrifices of the bodily kind or enacting vengeance in exchange or whatever very old entities would think is passable. It's showing up, communicating, recognizing what were the faults, and what could every party involved in the hurt could do about it and what to do next. And to Hob, they've come around to it. Being forgiven is not impossible or only deserving under a pretense.

That's what strikes Hob when he looks at Dream as they're exiting the New Inn and I believe about to go off to Hob's home to continue their friendly get-together. He also thinks Dream's not often forgiven for a lot of things, some things beyond his own control, and some things that if any of us had done it, we'd be forgiven and allowed to change from it instead of having it be a sword of damocles about to careen through our skulls.

So Hob does what a human does when their godly-not-a-god friendly stranger is uncomfortable. Hob welcomes him with an open hand, holds it tightly, and there they are.

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut

#Joey Speaks #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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awholelotofladybug · 1 year

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In the Stammering Adrien AU, Mr. Damocles has been the director of this school for a long time. I have even decided that a lot of the adults, mostly the parents of the kids, would all be former students whom he has dealt with before. And it got me thinking, what if Andre was a student there? What is Mr Damocles held onto his permanent record, as well as all the others? What if that's why he's not afraid of the bourgeois family and this AU? So the question is should I make Andre younger( while keeping his silver hair) so he can be a former student there?

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #andre bourgeois #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #mr. damocles

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wolveria · 1 year

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The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 28

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "The sword of Damocles, hanging by a hair."

AO3

You awoke from muddled dreams, confusing images of grinning masks dancing in your head. It was nothing more than a product of your discussion with 049 the night before, but that didn’t bring you much comfort.

049 watched you as much as he was able, faint concern in his eyes, only averting his gaze for your morning shower and getting dressed. It was almost funny, how much he cared about your modesty. With the camera bolted in the corner, he was the only one in this place who hadn’t seen you naked.

Maybe that wasn’t as funny as you thought.

You got dressed in your usual—a white smock, white leggings, socks, and a pair of hospital slippers, leaving your dirty clothes by the outer door for the D-Class to collect. You wished they give you a pair of scissors, or at least a hair tie. You had started to lose track of time in the way one did without access to a clock or calendar, but the growth of your hair reminded you that life still marched on. It was almost soothing, to have physical proof that even the Foundation couldn’t control time and its passage.

Expecting to eat breakfast alone, you were surprised when 049 sat next to you at the lab counter, a stool perched beneath him. He leaned closer, as if curious about the food, but his gaze didn’t leave your face.

“Are you all right?”

The simple, harmless question pressed at something inside you, nearly bending it out of place. God, it was unnerving how easily he could reach within you and wrench apart your perfectly placed walls.

“Fine,” you said, giving him a smile even you knew was weak. “Just tired.”

“You are not well-rested.”

You weren’t sure if it was a question, or an observation he’d made from watching you sleep. The thought wasn’t disturbing, as it might have been once.

Reluctantly, you met his eye, wondering how much to say and what to keep unsaid.

“It’s hard to relax.” You pushed a fork through the leftover syrup, all that remained of the pancakes that was your breakfast. They’d been thin and rolled, almost like crepes. “Hard not to know when that door will open again.”

There was no need to explain what door or why you dreaded it.

“The sword of Damocles,” 049 said, “hanging by a hair.”

Despite the grim subject, a genuine smile escaped you, even if it was small and muted.

“Something like that, though this is no feast laid out by a Greek tyrant.”

“Another tyrant, then.”

“You can’t say that,” you whispered, but your attempt to scold 049 was undermined by your stifled laugh.

“Oh, I assure you, I can.” 049 turned until his back was to the counter, staring at the darkened observation window with narrowed gaze, as if daring the Site Director himself to do something about it. “But for your sake, my dear, I will refrain.”

It felt dangerous to openly defy the Foundation, and it probably was, but in that moment, the light mood was… nice. Maybe you could never fully relax again, but at least you had these little moments of respite where you could breathe. Where you didn’t have to flinch at every sound or let fear of the future consume your thoughts.

And all because of 049.

When you raised your eyes to him, he was already watching you, as if expecting your gaze. Or maybe not caring that you looked. His eyes were curious, expectant even, and you opened your mouth to speak even though you had no idea what you were going to say.

You never got the chance. With a clunk, the heavy outer door opened, and four armed guards marched inside.

Your respite was over.

“Into the inner containment chamber. Now.”

You couldn’t have disobeyed even if you’d wanted to; 049 had been on his feet in the blink of an eye, pulling you behind him as he braced for whatever the guards had in store. But they only watched him, guns ready but not aimed, eyes hard as they waited for you both to follow orders.

Gripping his arm, as much for comfort as it was to keep 049 from doing anything foolish, you pulled him back into the inner containment chamber, and the door slid shut by remote operation.

“What are they doing?” you asked, not ready to release 049’s arm just yet, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stayed close, eyeing the door as if sizing up an opponent.

“I do not know.”

Your stomach clenched from the sound of metal scrapping against the floor, as if someone was rearranging furniture, and your thoughts ran wild with the possibilities. You held onto 049 tighter, as if he could keep you from being washed away in the ruthless waters of your imagination. Before, you might have been ashamed for holding onto someone else for comfort, but you didn’t have room for pride when fear took up so much of the space inside you.

049 didn’t move away from you either, and you waited in strained silence until the inner chamber door parted once more, revealing what the guards had done in your absence.

They hadn’t done much, and yet, it was quite telling. Three metal chairs had appeared, two on one side, a single chair the other. In between them, a table that looked it like had been taken straight from one of the interview rooms.

Exchanging a confused glance, you followed 049 into the room when a guard called out, “Step inside. Slowly.”

A man stood on the other end of the chamber behind the guards, a tablet in his hands and a somber weight to his face.

“Dr. Puli?”

“Hello, Reid.”

“What is this?” you asked, but the captain of the guards spoke as if you hadn’t.

“Both of you, sit at the table and place your hands on its surface. SCP-049, take the chair at the left. You, take the chair on the right,” he said, stern eyes on you. “Do not resist.”

Resist what? you thought, but your question was immediately answered with another guard brought out a piece of rope.

You stared at your old boss, voice harsher this time.

“What is this?”

“Just a simple interview. Nothing more, I promise.” His words were quiet and earnest, but if he thought his assurances would make you feel any better, he clearly didn’t understand the hell he’d complicitly created for you.

“Come on,” you said to 049 under your breath, your hand dropping from his arm down to his hand. They were going to make you clasp hands anyway, you might as well do it now, if only to encourage 049 not to lash out against the guards.

The SCP followed willingly, even as his eyes were fixed with a sharp unfriendliness on the doctor. He remained quiet as you both sat, putting your hands on the table as instructed and keeping still as they were bound in rope. You wondered why no lavender this time. Was Dr. Puli that confident that you could keep 049 in line? Or did he somehow think that 049 would willingly cooperate because he wasn’t the Site Director?

Too many questions, but the only questions that were going to be answered today would be Dr. Puli’s. You had to admit, your curiosity brimmed under the surface as to what kind of interview this would be. Still, compared to other tests they could conduct, you much preferred this. At least it wouldn’t hurt.

The rest of the guards filed out as Dr. Puli took his seat at the other end of the table, but two remained by the door. He gave them an annoyed look.

“You are supposed to clear the room.”

“Site Director’s orders, sir,” spoke one of them.

“And this is my interview. Clear the room, please.”

The guards glanced at each other, and the other stood taller, his tone brooking no argument even if Dr. Puli technically outranked him.

“We can’t do that, Doctor. If you wish to call the Site Director yourself, you may do so.”

Dr. Puli scowled but turned back towards you, taking a moment to school his features back into something more familiar. Kinder.

“I’m sorry for this. I understand the need for precaution, but… I was hoping to afford you a little bit of privacy in this, at least.”

You pressed your lips together and said nothing. 049 also remained silent.

Dr. Puli cleared his throat, brought up his tablet, and began.

“This is a standard interview with the entities designated SCP-049 and SCP-6830, conducted by Doctor Amin Puli—”

“What?”

So much for your silence.

Dr. Puli sighed and set aside the tablet, clasping his fingers together on the table as he stared up at you.

“You were… given an official designation after the last round of tests. SCP-6830. I can’t give you any more information than that due to clearance levels, but this is a good thing.”

“Really?” Your eyes narrowed, your words holding a scathing edge you never would have used when he was your boss. “And how’s that?”

“There are protections in place for SCPs, far more than there are for instances of SCPs or for E-Class.”

You looked away, disgust rolling in you. Not at being considered an SCP, but for the justification that Dr. Puli was so readily willing to accept.

“You know this,” Dr. Puli continued, his words quiet. “I’m sorry for what you’ve had to endure thus far but, think of it this way. Cross-tests between SCPs require a much higher authorization than if you were an E-Class. It’s very unlikely you will be further subjected to tests of that nature.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible.”

It was 049 who spoke this time. There was something in his tone that made you look at him. His spine was ramrod straight, his eyes laser focused on Dr. Puli. In fact, his entire body language had changed as soon as he’d set eyes on the doctor, an underlying tension throughout his body.

A hint of unease stirred in your chest.

“As with all things at the Foundation, Doctor,” Dr. Puli responded evenly, though he too watched the SCP carefully. “There are no certainties here.”

“Indeed.”

That unease began to coil into dread.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you said. “It’s done. Let’s just… get this over with. Whatever this is.”

Dr. Puli gave you a small smile, but there was no happiness in it. He picked up the tablet and began again. Stating for the record the subjects of the interview he would be conducting, where it was being conducted, and when. You nearly jolted right out of your chair.

It had been three months. Three months since you’d been trapped in this place. Three months since you’d been treated as a person by the Foundation.

It was enough to drive you to distraction, Dr. Puli’s questions not enough to hold your attention. They were things such as how you were both feeling, how you felt about their work healing Foundation personnel, how you felt about these strange, new abilities.

How you felt, how you felt, how you felt… You were fucking tired is what you felt. You were afraid, enraged, and scared all over again. You were going to lose your mind because nothing worked on you anymore. Not amnestics, not 999’s happiness, and certainly not your faith in Dr. Puli.

All you had was the SCP sitting next to you, and he wasn’t paying attention to the questions either, leaving you to give short, half-answers that only served to seek an end to the questions.

You frowned. 049 might not be thrilled with the interview either, but he was usually more polite, indulging in interviews at previous Sites even when the interviewers were hostile.

Slowly turning your head, you observed 049, and froze.

He glared at Dr. Puli, unblinking, his muscles taut and stiff. Poised.

“—I’m sure you can understand your joint efforts are a great benefit to the Foundation, and it will show favorably to the O5 Council that you two—”

“Are you feeling well, Doctor?”

You were completely frozen in place, barely able to draw breath, as if watching storm clouds gather overhead and waiting for the first crack of thunder. You knew exactly what that kind of question meant coming from 049, and Dr. Puli knew it too. He managed to sit up straighter and appear calm instead of like the man in the sights of a hungry lion.

“Well enough, though I suppose I’ve had an increased workload lately that prevents me from getting the sleep I should. Thank you for your concern, 049.” Dr. Puli cleared his throat again. “As I was saying, the continuation of the project is important enough that—”

“If I may, I do not believe it to be mere sleep deprivation that ails you.”

The stillness of the room was a tangible thing, only broken by 049’s voice.

“It is regrettable,” he said, the coldness in his words not doing much to relay regret, “but I must inform you that you are ill.”

“I feel fine.” Dr. Puli smiled, nothing happy about it. “I’ve had a recent exam and—”

“Regardless of your subjective opinion, you harbor the disease within you!”

The two guards stepped forward, but Dr. Puli raised a hand to stop them. His gaze shifted from 049 to you, but you couldn’t offer any help. Not with this.

Please, you silently begged, hoping Dr. Puli would read the warning in your eyes. Get up and walk away.

“Of course,” 049 continued, his voice low and only marginally more composed, “your machines would not detect the Pestilence. How can the tools you created understand something you cannot? I am asking, one doctor to another, submit yourself to my care.”

Dr. Puli shifted in his seat, laying the tablet flat on the table before speaking, his words carefully chosen. But not careful enough.

“While I appreciate the offer, we are still in the early testing stages to ascertain if your cure can be considered safe for high-level staff.”

049’s hand was no longer in yours, his fist twisted around so it was against the surface, your presence entirely forgotten.

“This is no time for cautiousness, sir!” 049 leaned forward, that hungry lion sighting down the meal. “Not only is your life in danger, but there is the possibility of spreading the disease to others. No, this is unacceptable! We must act swiftly!”

“SCP-049, you will calm yourself, or I will cut this interview short,” Dr. Puli said, his earlier caution replaced by a stern tone. “We are not here to talk about the Pestilence, but to gauge the psychological well-being of you and Reid—”

You were on your feet, but not by your own volition; you were yanked upward by the bond holding you to the SCP. The chains connecting between his wrists and waist should have kept him from raising his hands higher than his chest, but they were ripped apart in that terrifying display of strength you’d seen moments before he’d torn the guards to pieces.

Dr. Puli leapt out of his chair, and you were dragged along as 049 descended on the doctor, your resistance ignored.

Before the guards could even raise their guns, 049 gripped Dr. Puli around the throat and shoved him against the observation window. The exact same spot where he’d killed Daniel.

But 049 didn’t snap his neck. He leaned close, eyes blazing as his fingers dug into Dr. Puli’s throat, his words a snarl.

“A doctor who neglects his own health dares cast a prognosis on others?”

“049, stop!” you cried, but he ignored you.

“Put him down! Or we’ll shoot!”

049 ignored that, too. The guards couldn’t shoot, not with you in the way, and not when they might miss and hit Dr. Puli.

You tugged at his arm, unable to dislodge him even an inch. It was as if you were trying to move a statue, one that was intent on punishing someone you’d once called a colleague, if not a friend.

Dr. Puli’s face turned red, gasping for air that wouldn’t come, his nails digging into 049’s fingers, bloodshot eyes wide with terror.

“You’re killing him!”

You didn’t know if it was the words themselves or the desperate way you screamed them, but 049 took a sharp breath and released Dr. Puli.

The guards yelled at him to step away, but 049 was already doing so, helped along as you pulled him toward the inner containment chamber. You didn’t want to take the chance they would shoot, so you placed yourself between the guards and 049, now pushing him to the inner chamber and hoping the added distance will keep them from firing.

No bullets came, and as soon as you got 049 over the threshold to the room, the containment door slid shut behind you. The last glimpse you saw of Dr. Puli was of the security team surrounding him, fear scrawled on his face.

You suspected it wasn’t for himself at all.

Next Chapter

#the raven's hymn #scp 049 #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 fanfiction #scp fanfiction #wolveria writes

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