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regretmedaisy · 6 months

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i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded.

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.”

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her.

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat.

She quickly hid the message in her purse and he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out.

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him.

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up.

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess.

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so.

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him.

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage.

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy?

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth.

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt.

Merlin, it was finally happening.

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features.

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her.

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart.

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back.

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped.

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave.

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question.

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her.

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked.

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement.

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands.

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag.

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her.

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them.

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before.

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her.

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae.

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it.

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away.

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple.

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis.

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again.

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face.

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for.

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

��Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe.

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table.

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper.

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee.

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.”

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.”

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving.

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

#tom riddle x fmc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter #hp fanfic #tom riddle x oc

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been taken from right under Wednesday's nose. Finding you is a given, but it's really a question of who is saving whom. Wednesday shouldn't be surprised that she's complete entranced by the sight of a fallen faerie.

Warnings: canon level violence. long villain monologues. Enid & gang doing their best.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: just two killer gfs 🫶 also i can't believe the next chapter is the last one 😳

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Part Eight

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Ambedo: Noun. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

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Wednesday touches item after item in your studio. She holds whatever Thing passes her and tosses it when nothing happens. Wednesday knows she can't force a vision, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her hands run along the ground, trees, and furniture.

Something—anything in this forsaken room should give her a clue as to what happened to you or where she could find you.

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even.

Wednesday doesn't need to turn to know who it is. She grabs one of your books, gripping it with force, willing a vision to happen. When it doesn't, Wednesday tosses it aside. "What is it, Enid?" She asks, her voice flat but frustration laced around her tone.

"I've got everyone spread out and looking around," Enid updates. "I texted Ajax, and he's got some of his friends out searching too."

Wednesday merely nods tersely.

"I'm going with Yoko to search, but I just wanted to tell you something before I left," Enid bit her lip.

Wednesday turns, her eyes boring into Enid's with a dark intensity that her roommate is both used to and still finds unsettling. "Go on."

"I—" Enid sighs lightly. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else in case I was wrong, but I'm pretty sure now. I can smell someone else in here. The scent is stale like yours and Fae's, but it's a little stronger, more recent."

"Who else was in here, Enid?" Wednesday demands immediately. While certain people knew you had a studio, no one except Wednesday knew where it was.

"Um," Enid murmurs, her brows furrowing. "That guy—the one who's always around Fae. Yoko said his father is an alumnus here. Harry?"

"Henry," Wednesday seethes, her eyes flashing and jaw clenched.

"Yes, him!" Enid exclaims. "Yoko and I are going to see if we can find him, but if we can't..." The words drag, but Wednesday already knows the truth of it.

If they couldn't find Henry, then they'd found their culprit.

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Enid: can't find him.

Enid: roommate says he hasn't seen him at all today and said he's been barely in his room. He usually apparently only returns around 1 to 2am lately.

Enid: I'm gonna search around in my wolf form with yoko. She'll text u with my phone with any updates.

Enid: also the black fuzzy blanket you had earlier in our room is gone. Did you take it?

Wednesday doesn't reply and clicks her phone to turn off the screen before putting it back into her pocket.

1 to 2AM was when the two of you finished your nightly meet-up.

Wednesday definitely didn't move the blanket. Her eyes look back to the blanket in question. She recalls you telling her that Henry was a psychic who could create things. And based on what she's deduced so far, he could materialize his mindscapes into reality, but it seems that anything taken out of his mindscape couldn't last for prolonged hours if he wasn't focusing on it.

Wednesday has touched everything inside this studio, and nothing has conjured a vision. It leads her to believe that you weren't taken in your studio. She exits and begins to look around.

The first thing she noticed now that she was not blinded with rage and panic when she first searched for you was one of the tree trunks partially rotten. It was hard to tell with it being so dark, but Wednesday could spot the strange shape of the rot. She walks over to it and finds a single black feather resting on the ground directly underneath.

Wednesday bends down to grab the quill of the feather, and the live wire shredding at her skin comes forth.

Wednesday sees you walking out of your studio. The day has rewound, and the sun is only starting to set.

You look happy, with a serene smile and a single feather in your hand. But only after a few steps out do you tilt your head and refuse to take a step further.

Wednesday can hear it from your perspective. The way the wind oddly ruffles the leaves. There's a certain discomfort in her spine.

"Who's out there?" Wednesday watches you call out and place the hand on the tree trunk. "You can't hide from me in the forest and whatever trap you've set, I can sense it."

There's a moment of tense silence, but you refuse to budge.

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree.

Henry steps out, and you relax slightly but keep her hand on the trunk.

"Henry," you look confused. "Why are you following me?"

"Well, this is annoying," Henry sighs. "You didn't notice the mindscape of your studio, but now you won't step into the new one I made? I wonder if it's because Wednesday's energy is so intertwined with the studio one I made. You lower your guard down so much when she's around," he hums.

You look wary. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow me," Henry smiles, but his eyes are hidden, and you can't determine his full expression. "Quietly."

"What are you talking about?" You frown at him.

"Your wings," Henry says in a cavalier tone. "I need your wings. So, I need you to come with me to Crackstone's crypt so I can perform the ritual there. I still have some things to prep, but if you go to meet with Wednesday for your date, I'll miss my chance and the sap wont be potent anymore."

As you step back, you narrow your eyes at him, full-on in defensive mode. You're opening your mouth to say something, but Henry pulls out a small blowgun and shoots a needle that lands right into your neck.

You stagger, hand at your neck to pull out the needle, and you instantly know it's made out of draeconium. You slump to your knees first before falling onto your front completely, groaning.

Henry approaches with a syringe filled with a cobalt teal liquid. He steals you away, and all that's left is your feather and the rot you placed in the trunk.

Wednesday returns to reality, her hand on the trunk and the grip of your feather in her other hand. She pulls out her phone, typing a quick message to Enid before she takes off.

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt.

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The room was dimly lit by candles. Where Crackstone's crypt used to be now stood a giant rectangle stone table. There were inscriptions carved into the table, and Wednesday knew immediately that it was a ritual for your wings.

Wednesday's eyes lay upon your limp form lying in the middle of the table. There was a chained collar around your neck bolted to the table. It was only long enough to likely let you sit up, but no further than that. She can see your body rising and falling with each breath, and there's a sense of relief. She's about to walk to you and wake you up when someone steps out of the shadows.

"I didn't think you'd actually find us."

That lanky, stuttering boy. Except he wasn't stuttering now. Wednesday's uncontrollable rage simmers inside her, but she tempers it. She needs to be rational if she wants to save you.

Henry's long fringe normally covers his eyes, but tonight, they're pushed out of his face, combed stylishly over his head. It was no wonder that he covered his eyes, Wednesday thought. They would draw too much attention with their pale silvery glassy look. His eyes lacked pupils, but Wednesday was sure they were why he had such powers.

"Of course, I'd find you," Wednesday sneers at him. "Only a moron would come back to Crackstone's crypt. How unoriginal."

Henry smiles at her, and it's utterly disgusting. "I suppose after your glory stories of last year, I expected you would and that you'd come here stupidly alone."

"I don't need a group to make you wish you were never born," Wednesday's face was stoic. "What exactly can you do? Your little tricks won't work on me now that I know what you can create. It's not real."

Wednesday takes a step closer, but Henry pulls out a knife. The blade was a pale pearl white with ridges, and the handle was made from wood. There was no doubt it was made from draeconium.

"Move any closer, and I'll plunge this right into her," Henry threatens. "I only need her alive, she doesn't need to be unharmed."

There's a moment that Wednesday hesitates, thinking about her chances. She has a knife in her own boot that she could use to cut his throat. But Wednesday eventually decides against it as she doesn't know where he might stab you and if it'll accidentally be fatal. He looks like an idiot.

Wednesday's eyes trail to you. Even though you're unconscious, your wings are slowly appearing from your back, unfurling slowly, and you haven't moved one bit. She eyes the chain in detest and wills you to wake up to no avail.

"I know her wings are injured, but I'm pretty cautious," Henry sighs but doesn't relax his form as he turns to point the knife at her. "I can't risk her potentially flying."

"What did you do to her?" Wednesday demands, her stance tense as she keeps a distance from the boy. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She won't," Henry shakes her head. "I know she's told you about how draeconium sap can cut her wings out, but they can do so, so much more."

"Makes me wonder why she didn't tell you. Maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think." Henry smirks at her. "Draeconium petals can be crushed into a powder and mixed into a liquid that will put faeries to deep sleep. It's poisonous and makes their body numb and unable to control their movements."

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

"How did you find out where we were?" Henry narrows his eyes at her. "I hear you're a witch, but I have yet to see you do anything amazing. If anything, you're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"You're always hanging around her, hovering like a goddamn vulture," Henry huffs.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Wednesday raises her brow.

Henry rolls his eyes. "I thought for sure her fae abilities would catch me following her around. At first, I couldn't get too close without her constantly turning around and nearly catching me. Before you started to get closer to her, I was trying to figure out for weeks where she was going every single day and night."

Henry smiles lightly at her. "The night you followed her after the siren's party, she heard both you and I were following her. But for some reason, she dismissed it and kept going. Your presence has always masked mine perfectly."

Then he smiles haughtily at her, his eyes filled with malice. "Thank you, Wednesday. Because of you, I was able to get closer to Fae without her noticing. And since then, the two of you haven't even noticed you've been in and out of my mindscapes for months."

Wednesday thinks back to the night she first followed you to your studio. You had turned around, and Wednesday thought it was her, but it was probably Henry you'd sensed. But her presence distracted you, and you kept going.

She thinks back to Parents' Day and how she couldn't find you anywhere. She had gone to her room first to change before looking. Yet, you told her you'd been in her room waiting for half an hour.

Wednesday recalls the time you came to meet her, saying you just came from seeing Henry, but he couldn't conjure anything. But he had, and you just couldn't tell you were already experiencing it.

Wednesday thinks back to the day before the Poe Cup Race and how the three of you had been standing in the hallway. She had heard footsteps, but when she turned around, it was just Henry sitting at one of the arches. Those footsteps were probably from the outside of the mindscape.

Wednesday grinds her teeth, keeping her mouth shut as she looks around the room for anything she can use. Her phone is in her pocket, and she can tell Enid has likely been sending her messages incessantly by the sporadic vibrations. Wednesday hopes that Enid will call her so she can try to pick it up, keeping it open in her pocket before she starts spouting things that will tell Enid where she is.

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"This is weird," Enid mutters. "This is the crypt, isn't it?"

"It should be," Xavier looks around. "Something feels off, though."

Yoko is walking around, her glasses are off, and she looks up to see the moon. "This isn't right. Something feels wrong," Yoko says as she turns to the group. "This moonlight feels synthetic. It's making my eyes hurt."

Bianca looks around. "Henry was a psychic, right? What classes was he taking?"

"Um," Enid thinks of some of the classes they shared, but it was generic. Then she snaps her fingers. "Oh! He was taking psychitech! You know, the class where you can use your psychic powers to build things."

"What if this is one of them?" Bianca suggests as she looks back to the group. "What if this is what he could build? Fake rooms?"

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of this? It looks way too real," Xavier sighs, rubbings his face.

"Let me try calling Wednesday," Enid pulls out her phone and dials. It picks up after the 4th ring, and Enid almost shouts into the phone when voices are already coming through.

"—couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

"Hold on," Enid says quietly, putting the phone on speakerphone. "I think Wednesday picked up, but she's with Henry right now."

The group listens to him speak, gauging the story with tense interest.

"That's weird," Enid whispers. "It's quiet, but I can kind of hear an echo now."

"Hey Enid," Eugene whispers as he looks at her. "You put flowers in the Crypt when we came back to school, didn't you?"

Enid screws her brows in thought but nods when she remembers. "I did in the corner...to remember Rowan."

"What flower did you put?"

"I put a potted tristeria in there because they don't require any care. I didn't want to come back to look after it."

Eugene smiles. "I think I know how we can find our way in." He summons a single bee.

"As long as there's pollen in there, this bee will find it."

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"So?" Wednesday raises her brow at Henry. "Aren't you going to reveal your grand master plan? What your wish will be?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because cliche villains like you can't help it," Wednesday drawls. "It's why you're all so embarrassing. You think you're so clever and the need to show your cleverness to someone overrides any smart brain cell in your head to be efficient."

Henry looks at her contemptuously, but he looks up through the open sunroof and realizes the full moon isn't in position yet, and he has time.

"I'm an only child," Henry begins to talk.

"Here we go," Wednesday mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"My father was an alumnus here. We come from a long history of psychics and old money, so coming to this school is really the only choice. My father eventually graduated and married another socialite. You know, the type that's well-bred and genetically compatible to produce another strong psychic to pass on the legacy," Henry continues to point the knife at Wednesday but waves his other hand whimsically to emphasize his point.

"Except," Henry sighs, like the next part will be tragic. "The well-bred socialite turned out to be barren in the womb. Oh, whatever will they do? How will they pass down this enriched legacy? They need another psychic to pass it down to!"

Henry smiles like a bright idea comes to his head. It looks unhinged, which Wednesday would normally find charming, but Henry's face disgusts her to her stomach.

"Of course, the only answer is to find a surrogate. Secretly, of course. It's too shameful to let anyone know. And that means our lovely little couple finds an outcast struggling to make ends meet three states over. She's barely got any psychic abilities, but she's better than nothing, right?"

Wednesday's listening, but her eyes are taking in his stance. He doesn't stand like he has extensive combat abilities like she does, and she's confident in her odds there.

"The couple promised riches. They promised a better house and food that wasn't stale and enough money to let her live her days out comfortably. But our soft-spoken, poor outcast says she can't agree. She loves children, and if she were to have a child, she'd want to be able to see her visit that child. The couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

Wednesday stares at the room around her without moving her eyes. This was real, wasn't it? There were limitations to Henry's powers. How many rooms could be kept active, how long he could keep them engaged, and the objects inside the mindscape can't stay outside for prolonged periods.

Henry must've brought you here because he couldn't mimic the magic residue that surrounded this crypt.

That meant the surrounding area of his crypt would be made up of mindscapes so no one could find them.

Wednesday wonders if Enid and the rest of the group were currently lost in one of his mindscapes, and they were closer than she thought.

"Everything seems fine at first," Henry's voice interrupts her thoughts. "The pregnancy goes without a hitch, but on the day of her birth, there were complications, and she passed away soon after. Still, she gives birth to a lovely, healthy son. All should be well, right?" The way Henry says it is filled with sarcasm.

"But what should be filled with fulfilling days is just scorn. The well-bred socialite can't love a son who isn't really hers. His eyes are a constant reminder that he's someone else's child. She doesn't want to hold him, touch him, or even look at him if she doesn't have to. The father has great expectations, but when his son can't achieve them, he's distant. They don't tell him the origins of his birth, so the child is left to believe his parents just can't love a disappointment like him."

Great, Wednesday thinks, another idiot with mommy issues. "That was entirely uninteresting and cliche," Wednesday stifles a yawn, annoying Henry.

"Yes, but I'm not quite done."

"Hurry on then. I'm considering dying might be better than listening to the rest of this."

Henry sneers at her but continues on. "The child thinks he's just unloveable. That it's just the way he is, and that's why his parents cannot love him. Until one day, he's rummaging through his father's study in hopes that there's something there that could help him strengthen his psychic abilities."

"Let me guess," Wednesday drones. "You found a letter from either the doctor or the coroner about the day your birth mother had you but your father had her killed right after."

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs.

"Yes," Henry looks miffed that his plot twist was ruined. "The doctor injected nightshade into her IV, and because she was poor, her death was never looked into after the report the doctor gave."

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow. "What are you going to wish for? Your birth mother to come back so someone might love you as pathetic as you are?"

"I'm going to rewind time," Henry reveals, scowling at her. "I'm going to go back in time and kill Tyler before he can awaken as a hyde."

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "That mongrel is already behind bars and rotting. Even if you rewind back time, he's not going to awaken his hyde for you. He has severe mommy issues just like you do, and you don't seem like the motherly type."

"Not to kill my parents," Henry snaps. "For me, for my life at Nevermore. Everything was perfect before Tyler came along."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What the hell do you—"

"If Tyler didn't come along, Miss Thornhill would still be here and she'd be focusing on me!" Henry shouts, gripping his knife tightly until veins become visible on his arms.

Wednesday's eyes scrunch up in disgust, her head bobbing back with disbelief. "You're doing all this for Thornhill?" Her tone hides none of the contempt she feels. "Are you an absolute imbecile? Thornhill was using Tyler because she hates outcasts. She hates you too, you stupid—"

"That's not true!" Henry thunderously shouts at her. "Tyler and I were different. She cared about us but she chose Tyler because he was stronger! I'm different now! I can help her achieve her goals and we will be happy after."

"No," Wednesday curls her lip at Henry. "You were her puppet until she decided you were useless and Tyler could help her kill everyone. You do realize that was her goal, right? You'd only be kept alive until she decides she doesn't need you in her normie world."

"Shut up!" Henry's red in the face as he roars at her, stomping toward her.

Wednesday hardens her stance, bending her knees slightly to keep her grounded. She blocks Henry's attempt to stab her before using her other elbow to dig into his sternum. It makes Henry stagger back, coughing, and grip his chest, but he hangs onto the knife. He recovers quickly before he moves back towards her, swinging the knife back and forth.

Wednesday dodges, but Henry extends his arm, and it nicks her cheek. The cut stings, and Henry grunts as he tackles her to the ground. He meant to stab her in the neck, but Wednesday moved her arm just in time and stabbed the outside of her bicep. Wednesday grunts in pain when he rips it out.

His height difference gives him the advantage, and they're rolling on the ground. The force of the tackle made the back of Wednesday's head slam into the ground. She can feel a warm liquid dripping down the back of her head, but she doesn't let it stop her.

Wednesday knees him in his groin, which makes him drop the knife, roll onto his back, and hold the tender area with a groan. Wednesday quickly kicks the knife away and gets on top of him, punching him in the face before she wraps her fingers around his neck and squeezes.

Henry is struggling and wheezing, his hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to rip them away, but Wednesday's grip is firm. She can feel his Adam's apple giving, and she squeezes tighter.

Henry flails around, winding the back of his hand, and punches Wednesday in her temple. He wore a ring that dug into Wednesday's skin and ripped it open.

The force and cut of it make Wednesday dizzy, and she's forced to let go as she staggers to the side. Henry is gasping for air but immediately scrambles for the knife. He has a cut on his brow from where Wednesday punched him, and his neck was wrung red.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Henry shouts, enraged as he grabs the knife.

Wednesday is still lying on the floor, holding herself up on her elbow as she is holding her temple while her own blood coats her hand.

The noise is deafening, and it makes you breathe deeply.

You begin to stir, your fingers twitching. The sound of your leg moving grates against the stone table.

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction.

"How did you..." Henry starts to say.

"Don't...touch her..." your voice is raspy and lethargic as you slowly sit up.

"Don't move," Henry threatens, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's shirt and pressing the knife against her throat. "Don't move, or I'll slice her neck open!"

Wednesday is staring at you. It's hard to see your eyes with your head tilted down and your palm pressed against your eye.

"How the hell did you wake up?' Henry seethes. "The draeconium should've kept you unconscious even when I started to cut your wings. You shouldn't have fought against it. This would've made all of it less painful."

The chain rattles as you move your palm away and look up at them. Wednesday could feel Henry tense, and she could understand why.

Your eyes have transformed, and they were completely pitch black—even your sclera. You looked more like a demon than a faerie, and Wednesday felt her heart skip. She's entranced, eyes unable to look away.

"I'm a high lord's daughter," your voice rumbles quietly, your eyes narrowing on them. "I'm a night faerie. You think I wouldn't be trained to have resistance against draeconium poison?"

Henry's jaw clenches, and Wednesday can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure your eyes drop to look at the knife against her neck.

"Let her go," you demand. "Let us both go, and the worst that will happen to you is an expulsion."

Your voice isn't threatening in any way. It's almost calm, and Wednesday almost scoffs that you'd think this psychopath would listen to you.

"Expulsion?" Henry laughs. "The second Weems learns what I did, there's no way I won't be going to jail. My parents might just execute me out of shame."

"You could probably use your last meal to request to see your beloved Thornhill first, if she even agrees to see you," Wednesday mutters. The knife presses further into her neck threateningly. A thin slit of blood drips down from Wednesday's neck.

"There's only one way I'll let her go," Henry looks at you warily, trying to bargain. "Your wings for her life. I'll tie Wednesday up as leverage but the second I have your wings, I'll let her go."

"Only a moron would believe that," Wednesday drones, her face impassive.

"She can't wait that long," you argue back, ignoring Wednesday. "She's losing blood in her arm."

"It's not fatal," Henry shakes his head. "I'll let you seal the wound up, but if I don't have your wings before the moon moves from the highest point in the sky, I will kill her."

"Don't bargain with me," you warn him, but your delicate tone doesn't scare Henry at all.

Henry glares at you. He's losing his patience as he presses the knife further into Wednesday's neck, and she can feel it cut into her skin more. "There's nothing you can do but accept my bargain. You're lucky I'm even offering to let Wednesday go. I could kill her right now and still take your wings—"

Your eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, flash dangerously at him.

"Shit!" Henry suddenly curses, tenses up, and Wednesday sees his eyes cloud over. She knows that he can no longer see the way he's frantically looking around. She moves her head back, so the knife is no longer pressed against her neck.

You suddenly spread your wings to their full span. Your wounds rip open, and blood rapidly rushes down, soaking your fingers and staining the stone table. They fill in the carved inscriptions but pour over onto the ground.

You flap your wings, rising. The chain initially resists, but with another flap, it breaks like a measly string.

You're hovering in the air, held up by your wings. Blood coats your shirt and cheek when your wings flap, splattering blood everywhere.

It's terrifying how much blood you're losing, but Wednesday can't help the hitch of breath in the back of her throat.

You look like a fallen angel. Like you fought tooth and nail before heaven cast you out.

You force your wings to their full wingspan and flap them with a reckoning force. The wind you create is so powerful that it forces Henry to fly back. He collides with a pillar, his body arches from the impact, and he gasps painfully. He drops the knife and falls onto his knees, coughing.

You swoop down towards him, standing in front of him as you grab the collar of his shirt with both your hands, pressing him against the pillar to hold him up as he can't even stand. Henry is sure you've broken his ribs.

"Lucky?" You snarled before seething at him. "Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday looks down at her hand, covered in blood and soaked feathers that fell when you flew over her. The air is hard to breathe after your wings disrupt the air, almost like she's choking.

This was what her vision meant.

How utterly useless to figure it out now.

All Wednesday can smell is blood, all she can hear is your breathing and the sound of your wings. Your voice—raspy and rumbling—is all she can hear. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of you in the air with your bloodied wings is imprinted—burned into the back of her eyes.

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

"Say, Henry," you say, and Wednesday feels a chill down her spine in the calm and light way you say it. "What do you think would happen to you if I dropped you from 1500ft? Do you think you'd die, or do you think you'd survive and just become paralyzed?"

"Please—" Henry whimpers, begging. He screws his eyes shut despite the fact that even if they're open, he can't see anything but pitch black. It's just instinct at this point.

"Let's see who's really lucky," you tell him, pulling him from the pillar, your wings fluttering. "You or me."

You're about to take off when you feel your shirt being tugged at.

You look over to find Wednesday standing, parts of her temple crusted with dry blood while fresh blood pouring down a line.

Wednesday is looking at you sternly, her brows furrowed deeply while hiding something else she is feeling—desperation.

"Don't fly," she demands you, her voice serious. "If you fly, you'll lose too much blood and you won't make it."

You merely stare at her, and Wednesday wonders if you can even hear her.

"I'm okay," Wednesday tells you quietly instead. "We both are." She turns her head to look at Henry, who looks like he has passed out from the pain in his ribs. "He's done. He can't do anything anymore."

The words seem to reach you as you loosen your grip, dropping Henry, and he falls to the floor on his side.

You turn to Wednesday, blood dripping drop after drop from the end of your wings.

"You've ruined your wings again," Wednesday scowls at you, and your lip twitches. "You fool, they will never heal at this rate."

"They will," your voice was raspy. "I just need intensive care for the rest of the year."

Wednesday keeps her scowl at you, and you smile weakly at her.

"Thank you for coming to find me," you tell her, your voice lulls Wednesday.

"Of course, you were late," Wednesday relaxes her face as she looks over your wings. As much as she hated to admit it, this was out of her hands, and they needed the nurse.

You smile sadly, and it looks strange with someone whose eyes are completely black. "I missed our date."

"Stop with the look," Wednesday orders. "It's unnecessary. I can always plan it again."

You look happy, then. But you also look extremely tired. The black from your eyes fades and after a couple long blinks, they become normal again.

"Thank you for saving me," Wednesday eventually says, her features looking soft as they gaze at you. "Even if you were stupid enough to ruin your wings."

You chuckle, but it's weak. You lift your hand, almost hesitating to touch Wednesday's face since your hands are coated in blood. But Wednesday leans into it, letting it smear her cheek.

You're so warm, and it's comforting to Wednesday. It was a sign you were alive.

Making sure you paid for making her feel wretched over you would have to wait because all Wednesday can do right now is be thankful you're alive.

You lean towards her face, your lips hovering over hers.

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands. "Ever. Especially without me."

You smile, and it brushes against Wednesday's lip.

"Are you threatening me with a good time again?" you murmur. "But okay, only because you have such a way with words."

You're about to close the distance, but you slump against her instead, passing out.

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening.

Suddenly, Enid burst through the room. Well, first, it was a bee, and then Enid.

"We're here! I'm going to wolf out and beat that motherfuc—oh, you guys already won."

The group follows quickly behind Enid, taking in the gory scene.

"Jesus Christ, Addams," Bianca scowls at her. "Did you make Fae do all the work? What happened to the Addams that held someone hostage to torture them?"

Wednesday doesn't respond to the comment, merely passing you to Enid and Yoko to carry. "Take her to the nurse quickly."

"It'll be faster if I carry her in my wolf form," Enid says. "Let's take her outside first."

"I can do some first aid to hold her over," Bianca follows. "Let's get her near the river; I can use the river water."

They all take a moment to stare at you.

"I didn't know she had wings," Yoko comments. "They're beautiful."

"If rumors of her wings go around, I will—"

"Obviously, we're not going to talk about them, Addams," Bianca rolls her eyes. "You don't need to threaten our lives."

Wednesday shrugs.

"Let's just get going," Enid starts to move. Everyone begins to follow except Xavier. He stays and lingers around Wednesday.

"You need medical attention too," Xavier glosses over her, specifically the wound in her arm.

"I'm fine," Wednesday brushes him off, turning around to stare at Henry on the ground. "You should go help them."

Xavier follows Wednesday's gaze. "I can help you carry him back."

"I'm not bringing him back," Wednesday monotones.

Xavier sighs. "Wednesday, I know what he did was horrible and he should die for it, but you can't kill him. Weems might—"

"I'm not going to kill him either," Wednesday interrupts. "You should leave."

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

Xavier hesitates for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh and turning to leave the room.

Something scuddles into the room, and Wednesday turns to see Thing.

"There you are, Thing," Wednesday says. "Let's see if your scalpel skills improved."

PART 10

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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pharawee · 1 month

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Sorry to bug you, but could you give me the cliffs notes on what happened to Best and Chahub and the issues with 9naa? Thank you

Sure thing!

So basically when Best and Chahub's series Check Out first aired on iqiyi it was unavailable to watch in many countries. This prompted the director of the series to give an interview saying that the series was too explicit to show on any other platform such as youtube, and that they were looking into maybe broadcasting it via onlyfans.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with onlyfans and what it's used for, but you could argue that it's a very strange thing to say for a professional director who would probably be better off showing his series on other platforms more suited to traditional longform entertainment (like gagaoolala, the patron saint of queer media 🙏).

Add to that that pornography is illegal in Thailand, and any mentioning of it in an actor's portfolio is probably... not that great.

The director further said that during the filming of the intimate scenes they decided to do away with all protective clothing because it just couldn't be done otherwise (decades of spicy scenes in film beg to differ but ok). The actors were fully naked. They didn't decide this beforehand but directly on set. Many fans have later speculated that due to the stressful and time-sensitive nature of a film set, this might have been coercive and exploitative.

The scenes that were later shown in the series were actually not especially spicy. Certainly not spicy enough to call them "25+". Actually, they were so unremarkable (as far as spicy scenes go) that the series has since been re-released on youtube (albeit probably as a cut version? I'm not sure. I haven't watched it) - the very platform 9naa was so sure would ban them if they even so much as looked at the upload button.

Throughout the whole shock value promotion (because what else could it possibly have been?) the actors themselves stayed strangely quiet. They're apparently on record saying that they value their intimate scenes as art. That's it. There was no further promo. There were no follow-up jobs. Best and Chahub weren't in the special ep (according to mdl Best was but I can't remember him showing up hm). They were either quietly dropped by 9naa or bid their time until their contracts expired.

None of this is especially scummy or even illegal (at least as far as we know). It does leave a sour aftertaste however, because companies like 9naa always have the upper hand over their actors. A lot would have to happen for an (inexperienced) actor to speak up because breaking contracts and NDAs would mean losing their jobs and potentially being blacklisted and/or sued (even Yoon Phusanu only came forward after Y.Ent had already broken contract by not paying him until a set date).

So if a company makes weirdly sensational claims that they later either conveniently forget about or passive-aggressively backtrack on, then that's weird. If they show no interest in promoting their own talent and have a strangely high turnover rate for rookie actors, then that's even weirder.

And this isn't an isolated case. 9naa had a whole series planned with MFlow Entertainment. Beyond the Star was supposed to star actors from both companies, only for MFlow to later finish and broadcast the series on their own due to "differences in vision and work attitudes", editing out as many of 9naa's actors as they could. Weird, don't you think?

And, most recently, Cheque Wacharawee (from 9naa's Venus in the Sky) withdrew from any follow-up projects in a letter posted to his instagram because he had concerns due to work attitudes and couldn't even reach 9naa's lawyer (notice that he too only spoke up after 9naa had already violated his contract). 9naa reacted days later with their own very subdued announcement that has since been deleted. Very, very weird.

Who do you think is to blame here? The actors (most of whom are inexperienced and in Chahub's case haven't really acted since), MFlow (a small but reliable company that makes series that aren't always the most cohesive but at least the actors seem happy 🙏) or 9naa who's at the centre of it all?

Personally, as a fan of both Best Vittawin and Cheque Wacharawee, I've decided to no longer support or watch anything by 9naa. Kiseki Chapter 2 sounds nice and I hope its leads are doing well. Maybe the company has since learned from their previous unprofessionalism but people should at least be aware that they have something of a shady track record.

And if you want to support Best, you can watch his new series Knock Knock Boys which is set to release soon. 💜

#bl industry #thai bl #best vittawin #chahub marut #check out the series #beyond the star the series #venus in the sky #cheque wacharawee #kiseki chaper 2 #ask #jane watches stuff #these probably aren't the cliff's notes you're looking for #i'm sorry for going on and on about this lmao #also i'm sure there was even more that happened with best and chahub #but i can't find one of the sources that talked about it in more detail #and i don't want to spread unsourced rumours #the vibe just feels off with 9naa #at the very least they're unprofessional

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milfandmoney · 1 year

Text

Coffee Mug Thief's Penance (NSFW)

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: you enjoy pushing melissa's buttons at work a bit too much to see what kind of reactions you can get from her. and apparently, today being open house day at school won't stop her from making you suffer the consequences of your actions.

warnings: dom/sub relationship, mommy kink, degradation kink, public sex, (lunch) table sex, fingering, orgasm denial, mention of safe words

notes: not currently proofread or edited. if you've noticed british spelling/vocabulary, no you haven't.

18+. NSFW content. MDNI.

"Come on, Melissa," you insist, your tone just a touch whiny as the older woman glared at you. "I already apologized. It was an honest mistake."

You raised your arms in surrender to attempt to convince her of your innocence, but Melissa raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed even more skeptical now than before.

"You didn't apologize! You just said oops!"

You shrugged at the accusation. It wasn't much of an accusation, considering that it was exactly what you had done, but you weren't about to make it easy for her and just admit out loud that you were rude on purpose. It wasn't your fault if things with her were more fun when you pushed all her buttons—her reactions were much more fun that way.

"Oopsie?"

Melissa uncrossed her arms and you took a step back. She approached, and you stepped back again. She walked towards you until she had you backed against the vending machine of the teachers' lounge. You were both lucky that it was empty so late into Open House day, otherwise you would have been caught into an extremely awkward situation.

She slammed a hand against the glass, right by your shoulder. Too short to comfortably reach for higher. It was so tempting to comment about it, to tease her until she snapped. But it never happened at school, those things were shared only in the privacy of her home.

"What do you expect, acting like that, brat?"

The look in her eyes was so intense that you almost faltered and gave up on your little rebellious act right there and then. You knew that you stopped now, though, you wouldn't have a chance to get what you wanted.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe to be taught a lesson. But we both know you're too much of a coward for that, Mel."

Melissa glanced around the room, to check if anyone was approaching, you assumed, and out of habit, you did the same. The moment of distraction allowed her to grab a fistful of your hair without you noticing before it was too late. There was no way she had done that on purpose, right? Of course there was. It was Melissa.

She forced you away from the vending machine and guided you to one of the tables—the one closest to the windows, not the one you shared with Melissa and Barbara during lunch breaks.

You didn't even try to resist as she bent you over the table. Its surface was too cold to be comfortable, but you needed to see where this was heading more than anything else in the world right now. And Melissa pushing her hips into your ass was all the confirmation you required to know you had to see things through right now.

"What's gotten into you today?" she asked, the frustration obvious in her tone. "You use my mug and don't wash it, you take the last juice from the vending machine, and now this? Have I been so nice lately that a dumb slut like you can't remember her place?"

Finally. Finally. Finally!

The Melissa you wanted was right here, ready to wreck you and take you from behind.

"Maybe I just need to be taught where my place is," you pushed back against her as you spoke, wiggling your ass for good measure, "I'm just a dumb slut, after all."

Melissa tightened her grip in your hair, giving it a harsh tug to shut you up. She had to know that it wouldn't work, that it would only encourage you to tease her even more.

"Put your hands on the table. Keep your head down," Melissa ordered as she let go of your hair.

"Mel," you whined, annoyed by the orders and her hand leaving your hair.

You felt her arms around your waist. But Melissa wasn't one to give you hugs when you gave her attitude. You took a deep breath and braced yourself. She unbuttoned yours jeans and pulled then down just enough to expose your ass. Embarrassing. It was late enough into the day to limit the risks of someone walking in on the two of you, but the risks were not nonexistent. You clenched your thighs together. It felt wet and sticky already.

Melissa kicked at your feet to signal that you had to spread your legs for her. Rebelling was more fun, but you couldn't ignore the urge to obey.

"You know better than to call me Mel when you're bent over like a whore, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

The spank to your ass was sudden and harsh. You should have expected it, really. You knew better than to just keep messing around with Melissa when she got in the domme mood.

"Yes, mommy, I know better," you corrected yourself immediately, without Melissa even needing to tell you what you did wrong. Your voice sounded so whiny that it was an insult to your own pride.

"And?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but two of Melissa's fingers found their way between your folds. The wet arousal that had been pooling and collecting there caused a discreet but still painfully embarrassing slushing sound as Melissa moved her fingers.

You were drenched, there was no pretending otherwise.

"I've barely touched you and you're already soaked. You really are just a desperate whore."

You nodded at her words, too eager to feel her, to have her fuck you, right there and then. There was no need to tease or provoke. Melissa was right there with you.

"Does my good slut remember her safe word?"

"Zucchini."

It didn't take more than a couple of seconds for Melissa to push a finger inside of you, quickly adding a second one to stretch your pussy. You took both so easily that you almost had the decency to be embarrassed about it—but it didn't matter right now. The only thing that mattered was the delicious feeling of Melissa inside of you.

She set a fast and brutal pace, her free hand reaching for the back of your head again, tugging at your hair until you arched your back.

When she changed her angle and started curling her fingers with each thrust inside your cunt, all you could do not to moan and scream was bite down on your lip. Pressure built in your guts, turning and coiling and boiling, wet arousal dripping down along your inner thighs.

Your were a mess and you knew it. You also knew that Melissa loved it.

"You're such a good girl when you want to," she commented—you swore you could hear the smirk in her voice. "You're taking me so well, baby girl."

"Mommy— Mommy, please, I'm so close—"

You closed your eyes and braced yourself.

Everything stopped.

You were clenching around nothing. Both Melissa's hands had left your body, shaking from the pleasure and desire rushing your veins.

You whined as you struggled to push yourself off the table, arms trembling under your own weight.

"But... mommy..."

"Oh, baby," she cooed, fake pouting at you, "you really thought I was going to let you come so easily? You really are nothing more than a dumb slut, hm?"

You tried to protest, but she silenced you with a hard stare.

"You better be good until we get home if you want your orgasm."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #wlw #wlw fiction #noel writes

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animentality · 3 months

Note

Sorry if this has been asked before, but I'm curious. How much of a part do you think ketheric played in durge's downfall? I recently replayed moonrise and ketheric is smirking and gloating and the narrator even mentions he knows exactly who you are but will never tell. Gortash's memoirs indicate that they learned about the elder brain after visiting moonrise, and the warden says that durge only ever visited once and never left. Maybe durge and Gortash learned about the brain then just ran off to conspire together, giggling and plotting, and ketheric was just done? Especially since Durge and Gortash came up with the plan without him - leaving ketheric out while in his own domain. Plus, how did orin know they were even there? I can't see durge telling their underling about their plans. Did ketheric somehow find out about her and contact her like "I know how you can remove durge. Btw pretend to be Gortash, trust me"? She had no reason to be there. Plus the way ketheric smirks at durge, commenting "treat me like you would any other chosen" when it had been just him, durge, and Gortash previously, which is basically him saying to give him the respect durge gave Gortash. I feel like ketheric probably played a major role in it and I'm interested in your take on it. Thanks so much!

I never considered the double entendre of "treat me like you would any other chosen" and that was DEFINITELY Ketheric being a little cunty elf, like ok queen, I see you, I hear you, I feel that.

EDIT: Ok, I just checked, and he apparently says, "Obey me like you would any other chosen."

Which is less iconic. But still. Have a cookie for writing that little double entendre better than Larian.

Not so sure on the "obey" part in terms of durgetash though. I highly doubt the Dark Urge ever "obeyed" Gortash just, without question.

But as for if Ketheric was involved...I don't know.

He didn't seem particularly happy to have Orin on board. The plan really started unraveling when the Dark Urge was deposed too. I doubt he liked the power struggle. I don't think he really had a huge issue with the Dark Urge, all my joking aside, only because the plan was going along well when the three of them were working together.

Him smiling and being coy could just be him being amused at their state, since he's an asshole, and the last time the Dark Urge was at Moonrise, he was mad at them about something...

Although...to be fair...I guess we never did know why he was angry at them.

The Dark Urge specific scene says that the Dark Urge was "demanding" something from Ketheric.

But I don't think we ever really know what?

Like they were working together on their brain thing...the fuck were they annoyed about? What were they demanding?

Also...in the timeline where the Dark Urge just dies...Orin hikes their body all the way back to Baldur's Gate, fully intact?

She went all the way to Moonrise, then lugged it back?

I guess that's just nitpicking, but it doesn't totally make sense to me because, first off, I don't understand if Orin tadpoled Durge at moonrise or somewhere else. secondly, I just don't see why Ketheric would support an usuper instead of the Dark Urge.

Ketheric being a smug little bitch only because he hates you on principle would make SENSE. Because he definitely knew you got fucked, since Balthazar is his advisor, and he knows what happened to you. There's no way Balthy wouldn't have told Ketheric, right? So Ketheric just straight up didn't tell Gortash because he's an ass.

And he smirks at you because he's remembering how annoying you are, and he's glad to see that arrogant bhaalspawn put in their proper place.

But the story in terms of how/when the Dark Urge got tadpoled is very scattered! I am not the only person who's noted this. It's a MESS in terms of timelines. Especially where the Dark Urge is concerned.

I really don't know how involved Orin was in the Absolute Plan before she usurped the Dark Urge.

Was she their right hand, and thus, well known? It might make sense for Ketheric to hear her out...but again, I don't think he'd be fond of a power struggle?

Also.

You get tadpoled in the opening...but the Dark Urge is the first tadpole victim.

So I guess you had the misfortune of being tadpoled twice (ahaha, just kidding, this is a nitpick, I know it's the same for everyone).

More seriously though...so the Dark Urge seems to know Enver Gortash is the Chosen of Bane BEFORE they did their little Hall of Wonders date.

But Gortash says that their gods came to them in a dream? And named them as Chosens together, and to seek out Ketheric Thorm?

But then...then they didn't come up with the plan...they got sent to Moonrise...

"Together?"

But...the Dark Urge only went to Moonrise ONCE?

So????

It's CONFLICTING information! It gets even worse when you realize ok, so they went to Moonrise together (maybe?), found the mindflayer colony, realized they could enslave an Elder Brain, then decided to seek out Helsik to steal the Crown...but when they stole it, it's mentioned by Gortash that they "crowned" the Brain and THEN started the cult of the Absolute?

So the Dark Urge would be running through the streets murdering people????

So...where in the plan did the Dark Urge go missing?

So in short.

I really don't think Ketheric was involved in the Dark Urge disappearing...and insofar as, when and how did Orin kill them...

I don't know, but their body is literally in her bedroom if the Dark Urge dies in that timeline.

So...she never tadpoled them...then...who was the first victim?

And also. WHEN DID SHE DO IT?

AAAAARGH.

Anyway.

The wiki conflicts with info in the game, Gortash is a lying slut, the Dark Urge only has three notes and two of them are just thirsting over Gortash, and the other is inviting Orin to split their skull open...

We don't have any correspondence with Ketheric on the Absolute Plan because it's too early to find that out in act 2...

It's a mess, my guy (gn).

I don't even try to piece it together most of the time.

If anyone knows...dm or anon me, and we'll figure this out.

#enver gortash #ketheric thorm #dark urge #durgetash

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is-this-fandom-who-knows · 1 year

Text

Okay so I got several notes on my "Things Jason Todd should freak out over that happened while he was dead/in a coma/braindead/gone" post about using it in a timeline EXCEPT I listed those events off the top of my head and didn't actually look up when they happened relative to each other so I know that they weren't in chronological order so I am relisting each of those plus a few new ones in chronological order with issue dates here if anyone actually does want a timeline. If the comment references events that take place some time apart then I listed by whichever happened first. Check the issues listed to figure out when the second event happened. I may edit this post later.

"There's another Mister Miracle? And he's human?" (Mister Miracle Vol.2 #22, December 1990)

"Deathstroke killed Jericho? Damn and I thought Bruce was a shitty dad -" (New Titans #83, February 1992)

"Danny is dead?" (New Titans #84, March 1992)

"Donna had a kid? One that was supposed to grow up to be so evil that an entire group of Titans from the future came back in time to stop him from being born? Kid definitely got it from his dad." (Deathstroke the Terminator #14, September 1992) (Team Titans #1, September 1992)

"Apparently Miriam Delgado is a name I need to add to my list :)" (New Titans #90, September 1992)

"Since when did Deathstroke have a daughter and why is she missing an eye too?" (Deathstroke the Terminator #15, October 1992) (Teen Titans Vol.3 #12, August 2004)

"SUPERMAN DIED HOW THE FUCK DID THIS DOOMSDAY GUY JUST PUNCH SUPERMAN TO DEATH HE'S SUPERMAN." (Superman Vol.2 #75, November 1992)

"Okay what happened to Qurac? Entire countries do not just disappear." (Deathstroke the Terminator #19, February 1993)

"What the fuck do you mean Roy Harper's baby momma nuked it???!! Where did she even get nukes??!!" (Deathstroke the Terminator #19, February 1993)

"Also apparently Superman has a clone now???" (Adventures of Superman #500, June 1993)

"Who the fuck is this Bane guy and how did he break B's back." (Batman Vol.1 #497, July 1993)

"COAST CITY DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE - WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #46, October 1993)

"Hal Jordan became evil?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #49, February 1994)

"Are the Green Lantern Corps around rn?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #50, March 1994)

"What the fuck is the speed force." (The Flash Vol.2 #91, June 1994)

"Iris Allen is alive and time travelled here from the future with her grandson apparently??" (The Flash Vol.2 #92, July 1994)

"Dick and Kory broke up???" (New Titans #114, September 1994)

"Is- is Guy Gardner human, or -" (Guy Gardner: Warrior #0, October 1994)

"There's a Green Arrow 2.0 and he's the first one's kid? Poor guy." (Green Arrow Vol.2 #91, November 1994) (Green Arrow Vol.2 #96, April 1995)

"So Green Arrow also died and came back?" (Green Arrow Vol.2 #101, October 1995) (Green Arrow Vol.3 #1 April 2001)

"Wait who the fuck is Neron." (Underworld Unleashed #1, November 1995)

"Blockbuster is smart now?" (Underworld Unleashed #1, November 1995) (Impulse #8, November 1995)

"You're telling me that B had the opportunity to bring me back to life - back to him and he didn't fucking take it?! Yes I know that I was already alive and it was like literally a deal with the devil it's the principle of the matter!" (Underworld Unleashed #2, December 1995)

"Apparently while I was gone Gotham was targeted by a deadly plague, got hit by a giant earthquake, and basically got kicked out of the US?" (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #48, March 1996) (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #73, April 1998) (Detective Comics #729, February 1999)

"Dick moved to Bludhaven and became a fucking cop?" (Nightwing Vol.2 #1 October 1996)(Nightwing Vol.2 #41 March 2000)

"What the fuck do you mean the sun almost got eaten." (The Final Night, November 1996)

"Look is Hal Jordan alive or not." (The Final Night#4, November 1996) (Day of Judgement #5, November 1999) (Green Lantern: Rebirth #4, March 2005)

"So... How old is Aqualad now? Why was he hanging out with Aquaman's dad? Why did that make him older?" (Tempest, November 1996 - February 1997)

"Oh, Aqualad's going by Tempest now? Good to know." (Tempest #2, December 1996)

"Supes got married? Congrats to him but I've met Lois Lane and I know she could do better." (Superman: The Wedding Album, December 1996)

"Martians almost took over the world?" (JLA Vol.1 #1, January 1997)

"Wait Donna's husband and baby died? Damn." (Wonder Woman Vol.2 #121, May 1997)

"The entire population had to run so that the Flash could siphon the energy to run a fucked up Hunger Games/Olympics crossover race set by a pair intergalctic alien gods so they wouldn't Alderaan earth?" (The Flash Vol.2 #138, June 1998)

"Someone actually decided to date the Joker? Is she insane? Don't answer that." (Batman: Harley Quinn, October 1999)

"Aqualad - sorry, Tempest- had a kid too?!" (Aquaman Vol.5 #63, January 2000)

"Flash got married too? IDK who Linda is but congrats to them both too I guess." (The Flash Vol.2 #159, April 2000)

"YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT BASICALLY EVERY HERO GOT THEIR AGE TEMPORARILY FUCKED UP? I NEED PICS ASAP." (Young Justice: Sins of Youth, May 2000)

"The JLA kicked B out and almost fell apart because they found out he had made contingency plans to take em all out? You're telling me they were actually surprised? Old man's paranoid as fuck of course he has contingency plans." (JLA Vol.1 #46, October 2000)

"What's all this about playing baseball to save the earth?" (Young Justice Vol.1 #27, January 2001)

"B and Supes told the rest the JLA their secret identities? I didn't think they had it in them." (JLA Vol.1 #50, February 2001)

"Commish got shot? By who? Are they still alive? I can fix it if they are he's the only cop worth a damn in this city." (Batman Vol.1 #587, March 2001)

"Y'all went to war with a guy trying to literally hollow out the universe? damn." (JLA: Our Worlds at War, September 2001)

"So Dickie finally got adopted." (Batman: Gotham Knights #21, November 2001)

"B got arrested and put on trial for murder? Imao." (Batman: the 10-cent Adventure, March 2002)

"WAIT HE WAS FRAMED BY BATGIRL 3.0'S DAD?" (Batman Vol.1 #605, September 2002)

"I'm sorry, Pretender's team led a bunch of other heroes, most of whom I've never even heard of, to invade the sovereign nation of Zandia? Like, I know it's just a nation for criminals to hang out and avoid justice, but still." (Young Justice Vol.1 #50, December 2002)

"One of the Pretender's friends was a ghost that was actually an interdimensional portal to Apokolips?" (Young Justice Vol.1 #55, May 2003)

"DONNA DIED AND CAME BACK TOO?" (Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day #3, August 2003) (DC Special: The Return of Donna Troy, August 2005)

"Somehow the entire population got mind wiped and no longer remembers that Wally West is the Flash or that his identity used to be public. hm." (The Flash Vol.2 #200, September 2003)

"Jericho is alive???" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #2, October 2003)

"Is Jericho evil or not?" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #2, October 2003) (Teen Titans Vol.3 #12, August 2004)

"Raven is also alive and a teenager now???" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #3, November 2003)

"Blockbuster murdere- Catalina Flores? Ah, another name to add to my list, I see." (Nightwing Vol 2 #93, July 2004)

"The Atom's ex killed the Elongated Man's wife and hired Captain Boomerang to end the Pretender's dad? Damn." (Identity Crisis #1, August 2004) (Identity Crisis #5, December 2004)

"Why did Gotham become a war zone- oh it was one of B's contingencies? That tracks. Wait another Robin died? I don't care if she wasn't actually using the name Robin when she died what the fuck B?" (Detective Comics Vol.1 #797, October 2004) (Batman Vol.1 #633, December 2004)

"You were actually on to something working with this Orpheus guy but of course he got murdered too-" (Batman: Gotham Knights #57, November 2004)

"How many Green Lanterns are there anyways?" (Green Lantern: Rebirth, December 2004-May 2005)

"So Guy Gardener is human now, right?" (Green Lantern: Rebirth #2, January 2005)

"EDDIE IS A SUPERHERO NOW?" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #42, February 2007) [yeah I messed up on this one, Eddie didn't get his powers until post-Infinite Crisis]

Here's the link to the original post btw:

#dc #comics #jason todd #my post #my posts

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applepies-and-starlight · 2 months

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Was Ishmael always your favorite from day one, or did Canto 5 swing things in her direction?

So, she wasn't like, my favorite favorite day 1, but I did have a higher opinion of her compared to the rest of the cast (barring Ryoshu and Sinclair as food name oomf was making propaganda about them like a madman), her initial demeanor also gained her extra points because I generally gravitate towards characters that Actually Respect The MC/PC i won't say no to unhinged characters can we at least pretend to be civil during work hours and not treat me like a dog? It makes me sad :(

And then Canto V dropped.

Normally, this wouldn't be. That Big of a deal, if it was in literally any other position I'd just go "oh cool, so that's what happened" and moved on.

Problem: there was probably at least 20 different sleeper agents in my brain. And all of them involved Azur Lane

(Context for confused LCB moots: Azur Lane is Arknights' weirder, hornier cousin set somewhere in a WW2-adjacent period where all of your units are warships given human form known as Shipgirls (official term: KAN-SEN) and you fight against a robotic menace known as the Sirens)

(Editing Apple: putting this under cut because... oh lird. It's long.)

I had this like, entire ramble I wanted to go off on but at some point I didn't know where to take it lmao, but the basic idea is the following:

I got into Azur Lane last year because of spite and (eldritch-ish) pirates (Hello Royal Fortune!)

Got dragged into lore rabbit hole

Got convinced to read eldritch apocalypse fanfiction of Azur Lane (Whispers of Saturn)

Loved the fanfic a lot, started making Pirate shipgirl ocs based off the fic's concept (eldritch creachurr)

First iteration of Whaleship Essex created; whale-like mermaid-siren figure who has albinism and is a little Too trigger happy with whale murder

Made her look like Ishmael LCB because haha funny reference

Devs went fuckshit crazy with the anniversary event; Marco Polo was raining the wrath of God (who, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, was a false god), the god in question was fucking up the world with a weird white membrane (which, now that I think about it, kinda acted like pallidification), the french were getting back together, everything is great

I try to add the false god(s) into the lore timeline of my Azur Lane shit, cue updates happening to Whaleship Essex where she's the only survivor of her group and knows that someone else also survived but blames them for not being able to Do Something about it

New Pirate event happens

Devs stole 2 of my OCs and made them canon (hi, Hind; hi, Galley) and they also happen to be close to Whaleship Essex while they were my OCs

I work around what the Devs have given me and decide that they're in a state of kinda died-but-not-really (long story)

(Note that I came up with all this oc stuff around like. November or something.)

Overall my hype for The Sea™ and eldritch horrors have reached an all time high

Canto V releases; I learn about it while trying to make a Limbus AU for Murder Drones

I decide to check it out because. Water.

Doomed sailor yuri

"Holy fucking shit did I just predict Canto V with my OC that's completely unrelated in every way except for the fact that she looks A Lot like Ishmael???? What?????"

Present time; I have been stuck in the Limbus hole ever since (and apparently my brain has delusionally stuck itself onto our favorite ginger sailor so uh. hi fellow ishmael irls!)

Sooooo... yeah

Basically we wouldn't be here if the stars didn't align at Halloween 2022 and Manjuu + Yostar gave the AL fans someone who isn't a pirate

#apple asks #rambles #limbus company #fun fact: i nickname royal fortune as ruby #this is because there's like. 3 different fortunes ingame + one of my ocs is called good fortune (nick: cerise)#post-edit apple:#oh good lird this is long #yeah my brain. is unhealthily attached to al.#fun.

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holden-caulfield · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

━ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐉.𝐓. 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

━ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: reader gets kidnapped because of her bond with the red hood, and jason thinks it's his fault: reader will help him understand he can't carry every burden alone. (this can be read as a part two to "LATER")

━ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jason todd x nurse!reader

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: yes

━ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: kidnapping, guns, general vigilante stuff y'know?

━ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3015

━ 𝐀/𝐍: this took so long to write and so long to edit, and it came out way too lengthy, but i hope you like it because i kinda do :)

He entered from the window, as he always did. It had become a habit, and even though he now had the keys to your apartment he couldn't bring himself to abandon old habits.

There was just something about it: you always left the window opened for him and that was enough for him to keep on entering from there. In a stupid, silly way, that was what had tied you: one fateful night, your window being the only one open, he crawled inside, all red and bloody and beaten up.

You were sure the other guys looked worse but he was the one to enter your window. It was an accident, he'd told you, he'd picked the wrong window, but you insisted. You wouldn't have let him walk ━ stumble ━ away without medical attention.

But tonight was different: he crawled into the opening, discarding his helmet right on the floor, followed by his jacket, slowly forgotten and hung on the back of the couch. He wasn't injured, the night had been kind to him, and yet he was in your apartment; another habit, he thought. His own apartment looked unwelcoming now that he had gotten to know yours; cold now that he had witnessed your warmth.

He quite liked these new habits he was developing, or perhaps he just liked you. Since you had declared your feelings for each other, everything had become easier. Jason wasn't well-accustomed to 'easy' but he thought he could get used to it, if you were there beside him.

But you weren't there, not at the moment. He peeped into every room, calling your name several times before confirming the apartment was empty. Now that was unusual: you never went out so late in the night unless your job needed you to, but you left a note, a message, anything.

He returned to the kitchen, ready to change and go ask the neighbors if they knew where you had gone when he saw it. An ominous little box, sitting on the countertop, white ribbon keeping it closed.

He approached it carefully: he hadn't noticed it before, too focused on searching for you, but now it had all his attention. He opened the lid, slowly; he had the terrible feeling that that box wasn't just a gift for him from you.

Inside, he found a piece of paper, he recognized your handwriting. He would have smiled, hadn't it been for the message you had apparently left him: '12pm. the docks. i'll be waiting for you.'

It didn't sit right with him, it sounded wrong; everything about this apparent gift made him uneasy.

He checked the clock, almost midnight. He didn't waste a minute, putting his jacket back on, helmet tightly secured on his head, and ran out again.

The more time passed, the more the clock ticked in his ears, the more he convinced himself something had happened. If it had been just a simple surprise, why so late at night? Why the docks? It didn't make sense and it made Jason more and more worried.

He ran until he stopped, immobile in the middle of the dock. It was deserted at night, but he frantically looked around, hoping to get just a glimpse of you. The night was pitch dark, just a couple street lamps marking the silhouette of the buildings, of the ships, of the road. But no sign of you.

He had put you in this mess, he hadn't been careful. Every night making his way back to your apartment and his only worry were the neighbors. He should have never brought you into his world, into his life. And now you were paying the consequences.

He started calling your name, breaking the eerie silence of the night air, turning left and right, begging to find you smiling, waiting for him. To tell him it was all a big joke, a big surprise for him.

"Red Hood, i'm glad you came, i thought our little message hadn't worked." Came a voice from somewhere behind him, in the darkness.

Everything was still, silent, but then a figure started approaching him; heavy steps marched slowly in contrast with his pounding heart, threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment.

A suited man came in sight, tall and elegant, advancing with his hands behind his back. His face was completely covered, unrecognizable if it hadn't been for the Black Mask he was wearing; a feared symbol in all of Gotham. Feared by all, but not Jason.

But now his heart was beating too fast, his legs growing too weak. He was scared, terrified. Instead of your lovely face, he was staring right at Roman Sionis. He didn't look intimidated, and Jason did his best not to look so petrified, but it was difficult. It was all his fault.

More foot steps joined the previous ones, figures emerging from the darkness all around him, guns trained on him.

"Hi Roman," he managed to say. "So long."

Roman scoffed. "I wanted it to remain that way but that little stunt you played last week? You couldn't possibly think that it would have gone unpunished, could you?"

Jason had done a lot of things last week, beaten up a lot of guys, but he remembered quite clearly smiling as he took down one of Sionis' bases.

"You know i love attention, Roman," he said, as still and as calm as possible. He grounded himself, he couldn't do anything rushed. "I thought you might appreciate the effort."

"I did, that's why i wanted to do something for you too," he said, motioning with his head to one of his thugs; he disappeared in the darkness. "Noticed anything missing, perhaps?"

Jason thanked his helmet for not showing his true emotions, for not showing how he had clenched his jaw, a scowl painted on his face.

"Actually yes," said Jason, taking a few steps forward. The guns were still aimed on him, the muzzles following him like a prey. "And i would like her back."

Roman chuckled, a dark mirthless sound. "I would like my men back, my money back." He said, advancing just a little more. Jason's knuckles itched to punch his masked face, to make him feel as much pain as he could manage, to kill him right then and there for even considering kidnapping you. But he remained still, unfazed. "Not everyone gets what they want."

"Still sore about it? I say we get over it," Jason knew he was testing him, but it was the only way to keep him talking, to make him angry, to hopefully get you out. "We'll forget it all in front of a couple of drinks."

Roman slapped him right across the face; Jason didn't move a muscle, taking the hit.

Everything was still for a moment.

"I guess no drinks, then." His gun was out in the blink of an eye and trained right under Roman's chin, pushing into the flesh as Jason's other hand was keeping him fixed on the spot.

The clicking of the guns' hammers around him made it clear he had everyone's attention; good. He had to see you, he had to see you were okay.

"Do you forget i have her?" Seethed Sionis, trying to break free from Jason's hold, but it was impossible.

"I don't see her here, are you sure you have her?" Teased Jason. "I'm starting to believe you're telling me a lot of lies, Roman, and i don't like lies. I thought that after all we've been through together you'd remember."

He simply laughed, and so Jason pushed the gun deeper into his neck, making his laughter turn into a fit of coughs. "Put the gun down, so we can talk civilly, wouldn't you?"

"Not until i see her, do you not listen to me when i speak?"

Roman raised one hand, and his thugs backed away only to return a couple of moments later with you in their grasp.

Your mouth was covered in tape and your hands tied in front of you, but you didn't look harmed. Jason heaved a sigh of relief the moment he laid his eyes on you: you looked confused, angry, and maybe just a little bit terrified.

He had done that. It was his fault.

He slowly lowered the gun, setting his eyes back on Black Mask. He needed to act quickly if he wanted to save you, but he needed to have a good plan, one that involved the both of you getting out of there alive.

"There, was it that hard?" Asked Roman, that mocking tone still in his voice, as if he had already won, as if he had the upper hand. "Now give me the gun."

He eyed his surroundings, analyzing. He had no time, he had to act now before it was too late. He risked one look at you, before raising his gun.

Roman extended his arm but Jason did not give up the weapon; he pointed it at you. As still and as cold as the night itself, he was pointing the gun right at you.

Everyone looked at him, confused, the hold on their guns unsure. Roman's eyes went wide at the sight: his hostage being directly targeted by the Red Hood himself.

The helmet let no emotion through, and yet you knew. He wasn't going to harm you; he had a plan. A good one, you hoped, but nevertheless it was a plan.

"You know, Roman? Maybe you should have accepted the drink earlier," said Jason, index finger moving to lay on the trigger, waiting, getting ready. "Because i think you won't have the chance to get one ever again."

In the briefest of moments, everything happened: you raised your hands, high above your head, letting Jason's first bullet free you from your bindings, cutting right through them.

The second one was quickly shot right after the first, into your kidnapper's skull, one single line of red marking the front of his face.

The third, fourth and fifth were in rapid succession: one after the other, they all hit the street lamps illuminating the scene. Glass broke and darkness fell on the dock.

The rest of the bullets were not only Jason's. Everyone started shooting, people started running away, frantically looking for safety in the darkness. But Jason's hits were easily recognizable: every time one of them was fired, a body fell heavily on the ground, no chance of getting back up.

You couldn't see anything, so you just ran. Hopefully somewhere safe, hopefully not right into a stray bullet.

Your feet were running on their own, your mind desperately hoping Jason was okay, desperately hoping that helmet of his had night vision, desperately hoping you would have run right into his arms.

You didn't: your foot got trapped into something, you couldn't tell what in the pitch black around you. You fell to the ground and the gunshots ceased.

Everything was still again, as still as it was when you were tied up. You got up on your feet quickly, slowly backing away from the massacre.

Or so you hoped.

Someone grabbed your arm, the hold tight and yet reassuring. It was the same hold you woke up to in the morning, holding gently onto your waist. The same hold that begged you to stay a moment longer as you hurried off to work. The same hold that hugged you back after the night had been a little too cruel, a little too hard.

You wasted no moment and enveloped him in a hug, stopping him from whatever he was going to say. He just hugged you back, that same hold you had grown so used to, so attached to, getting tighter and tighter, until it faded.

He grasped your hand and led you away, towards the faint light that was slowly glowing brighter and brighter as you walked further into the city.

As he came into the light, you noticed the blood shining on his clothes; you let your hands run quickly over the stains, assessing the wounds. You heaved a sigh of relief knowing it wasn't his blood for once.

He gently swatted your hands away, grasping your face in his gloved hands. He held you as if you were an illusion, a dream about to finish and bring him back to reality.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He managed to say.

You simply smiled at him, taking his hands in yours and bringing them down. "Yes, thanks to you."

You smiled warmly, hoping to comfort him, but even with his helmet on, even so late at night, you could see his look; his eyes, his nose, his lips, contorted in a frown, blaming himself over and over again.

"Thanks to me, you could have died." He said instead, forcing his hands to leave yours.

You didn't let him, bringing him closer to you. "But i didn't, Jason. I'm right here, with you, thanks to you."

You slowly removed his helmet, leaving him in his diamond mask. You were right, he looked just like you imagined, just like you knew.

Your fingers traced the edge of his jaw, cupping his cheek, bringing him closer to your lips, but he drew away.

"I shouldn't have let you-" but you didn't let him finish, raising his chin again to kiss him. Small, soft, barely there. You didn't want to overstep his boundaries, you just wanted to soothe him, to comfort him, to make him feel the way he always made you feel; safe, even when in the hands of mob bosses.

You had never felt the way you felt with Jason. You had grown so used to him, to his attitude, to his sarcasm, to his ways. Waiting for him to come home at night, waking up to his warm embrace in the morning, watching as he cooked for you; habits you wouldn't have exchanged for anything in the world. Habits that were worthy all the waiting at night, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Habits that were worthy a couple of kidnappings if it meant he would have saved you every single time, if it meant you would have found yourself in his arms every night.

"We should go home now." You whispered, rubbing the back of his hands.

His eyes went down to where your hands were intertwined and a crease formed between his eyebrows. "You're hurt."

You looked down too only to notice the red and blue hues forming on your wrist, were the rope was tied, were the bullet went through. It didn't hurt, and you hadn't really thought about it; it was just a stinging feeling, one you didn't pay too much attention to.

But Jason did, grasping your forearms gently to examine your skin better under the pale light of the streetlights.

"It's nothing."

"It isn't nothing."

"It is."

"It is not." He stated, piercing you with his gaze.

You knew there was no use arguing anymore, but maybe you could have used it to your advantage. "Then we should get home to make sure, shouldn't we?"

He shook his head, letting out a brief chuckle and looking back down at your hands. He didn't answer, so you began leading him back to your apartment.

"Is this okay? Does it hurt?" He asked for what seemed like the billionth time as he carefully cleaned the area of the abrasion.

"Yes," you reassured once more, smiling at him like one would to a baby. "You're doing just great. I have to be careful or you'll steal my job."

"Nurse Todd sounds good, doesn't it?"

Your smile grew wider knowing your insufferable witty Jason was back. "It does, if you become a nurse i'll take your job. I'd make a pretty intimidating vigilante, wouldn't i?"

"Oh yes, try smiling like that to the bad guys and they'll all run away terrified." He retorted, not daring meet your eyes.

When silence settled back, he decided to break it again, stilling his movements on your wrists. "I think we should stop this."

"I think so too, it's clean enough and it's late, we should go to bed."

He held onto your forearms as you tried to get up. "No, i meant this. Us."

"What are you talking about, Jay?"

He finally looked up to you, face unreadable, like a marble statue. "You could have died tonight because of me. I can't let that happen."

"So you want to end things?" You asked, incredulous. "Then how are you going to save me if you don't know where i am, what i'm doing?"

"That's the point," he said, caressing the side of your face, softly stroking your cheek as if it was the last time he could have ever done that. Another habit you had let him develop, whenever he was stressed, whenever you needed comfort; a single touch was all it took. "You shouldn't need saving, Y/n."

"But you do." You said, matter-of-factly. "You need saving, every night, every day. If i don't help you, who will?"

"You just said i'd make a great nurse," he tried joking, a smirk drawn on his lips.

"But not the best," you retorted again, inching closer to him, almost brushing your nose with his. "I am the best."

"Y/n, i can't-"

"No, you can, you have to!" You interrupted him. "We need each other, let me help you, Jason."

"I could never live knowing i got your hurt, Y/n, don't you understand?"

"And neither could i." You stated, feeling tears prickling the corner of your eyes. "I need you to let me close to you, i need to know you're okay, i need you, Jason."

He didn't speak, weighing your words, so you decided to keep going. "And you need me. Even if you are way too stubborn to admit it."

He chuckled again, bandaging your wrists, just a little too tight. But you wouldn't have told him. "Do i?"

"Oh yes, you do. I lied before, you know?" You said, feigning complete innocence. "You'd be a terrible nurse."

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#jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x nurse!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #batman #robin #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader

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girlwiththepapatattoo · 3 months

Text

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 19

Warnings: referenced possible future suicide, Astarion being himself, canon typical violence, curse-related angst

Summary: No one has a good time when curses are involved.

Notes: Hey, I'm alive! I'm sorry about how long it's been between chapters: after being sick for a month straight, my brain didn't want to make the words happen for a bit. But I think I'm getting back on track, so hopefully not so long in between chapters this time.

As always, feel free to point out anything I missed in editing. Enjoy everyone! <3

Read on Ao3 here!

Previous Chapter | First Chapter

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“I’m glad she chose you.”

The elderly wizard gives Gale a smile. It’s fond…and achingly sad. He disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving the younger man standing there, his own smile slowly fading. It’s replaced with a fatigue that pulls on the lines of the magical tattoo next to his eye.

“Gale…” Sable whispers, laying her hand gently on his arm. “Are you…?”

“All right? I have no idea.” He presses his hand over hers and gives a soft squeeze, though he doesn’t let go for a long moment. “I never imagined that she would offer any sort of forgiveness at all…but I should have figured it would be something like this. My wrongs against her can only be paid with my life, I suppose.”

“Bullshit,” Sable spits, and Gale looks at her in surprise. The young druid is angry, furious even. “I’m not saying that what you did was right, because it wasn’t. But asking you to kill yourself in order to get forgiveness…that’s disgusting.”

“That’s justice, in her eyes.”

“Well, she needs her eyes checked.” His lips twitch. “You’re not…really thinking about doing it, are you?”

“Of course,” he says, with entirely too much forced cheer. “He offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes…and let go.” Bittersweet optimism floats through the tadpole connection. It makes her chest ache. “Then the slate will be clean. Wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone-”

“And you along with it,” Sable says pointedly around a sudden lump in her throat.

Gale smiles weakly. “Everything always comes with a price.”

“This price is too high,” she snaps. Her fingers tighten in his sleeve. “There’s still time. I won’t let you do this, Gale, not if we can find another way.”

He softens, and he reaches out and gives her hair a gentle ruffle. “I’m all ears should that happen, my friend. But I won’t discount this chance either…as much as I dislike part of the outcome, if we can turn my misstep into a chance to destroy our enemy, well. More the better.”

Sable glowers at the wizard. To both of their surprises, she pulls him in for a bone-creakingly tight hug, then stalks away, wiping at an escaped tear. Gale blinks in surprise as he watches her go, and something tugs painfully in his heart. He’d do what he’d have to with this charge…but knowing that he has people who care about him here makes it much harder to be okay with.

“We’re going to take five,” she calls, her voice thick, “and then we’ll head through the door.”

“Who was that man?” Lae’zel asks, frowning as she looks over to the pensive wizard.

“Was it Gale’s granddad?” Karlach asks with a delighted smile. “I can see the family resemblance!”

“...no…that was Elminster Aumar. Apparently he’s the most powerful wizard in the realm.” She scowls. “Mystra sent him to Gale. She wants him to use that orb thing in his chest…to blow up the Absolute.”

Dead silence meets her ears, and she looks around to find the others staring at her in shock. “...Mystra wants Gale to blow himself up?” Halsin asks in disbelief.

“Oh…oh, poor Gale,” Karlach says, looking worriedly at the wizard.

Astarion frowns. “How awful. It’s a criminal waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling.” Everyone stares at him as if he just grew a second head, and he huffs, his lips twitching. “And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.”

“Unbelievable,” Wyll mutters.

Sable slides down the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest and laying her forehead down on them. This sort of news, right before heading into a cursed land…

She’d laugh if she didn’t feel like crying.

///////////////////////////////////////

The very instant that the doors swing open, Sable freezes. Her heart pounds in her ears; her breath pours into her lungs like soup. Wrongness screams into her mind as she stares out at the landscape. Trees, blackened and twisted, reach up as if begging for mercy. Pools of blackness replace shadows, each one its own void, beckoning death…or worse. And there’s very nearly no sound other than what her group is producing. Even the sigh of the wind through emaciated branches sounds muted.

Sable has only recently been exposed to true nature, but even she knows that despite their mission, she wants to turn tail and run as fast as she possibly can.

“Oakfather preserve me,” Halsin breathes, pale under his tan, “it’s so much worse than I remember…”

“I’d almost choose Avernus over this place,” Karlach mutters, axe in hand. “Almost.”

“I think I’d join you in that choice,” Wyll says, brow furrowing as his good eye darts from desiccated bush to crumbled pile of rocks.

“Hm. Well. This is…” Gail trails off, and even the well-spoken wizard doesn’t seem to have the words to describe such a place. “Bad. This is very bad. Now, everyone gather round, please! Shadowheart, if you would assist.”

“...sure.”

Gale and Shadowheart attend to each person, casting their Light spells on an item that wouldn’t get easily lost.

The heat vents on Karlach’s shoulders now also blaze with blue light.

The beads woven into Lae’zel’s hair begin to glow.

Wyll’s bracers shine around his forearms.

The two rings on Astarion’s fingers shed light out of the gems in their settings.

Shadowheart’s circlet blooms bright, a halo of radiance around her head.

The crest of Sylvanus on Halsin’s chest lights up.

The book holstered at Gale’s side illuminates.

As for Sable, she can feel her friend’s magic sink into her earrings. She nods to him, her eyes still wide and terrified, and he gives her a gentle, understanding smile.

And with that, they have no more reason to linger. They start off into the cursed land.

With every step forward, the group feels more and more uneasy. Even the ground underfoot feels dead, producing the sound of crumbling, dry rock rather than dirt.

“It feels like we’re being watched,” Astarion suddenly murmurs, making Sable jump. “Hunted, even. Ugh, I hate this. I much prefer it when I’m the one prowling through the shadows, about to strike.”

“A little taste of your own medicine doesn’t hurt, Astarion,” Shadowheart says wryly.

“Until it does,” comes the vampire’s reply. “You’re sounding awfully chipper, considering the surroundings.”

“Yes. It’s…hard to explain. The darkness doesn’t feel the same to me as it does to you all, I think. It’s almost…welcoming.”

“After Ketheric Thorm converted, this area was mainly filled with Sharran worshipers,” Halsin says, his eyes darting over the landscape. “It makes sense that you would feel the way you do, I suppose.”

“Is that derision in your voice, druid?”

“Derision for anything that could turn nature, the very land, into this?” He motions around them, almost outright glaring at Shadowheart. “Yes. Such an entity has earned my ire a hundred-fold.”

“It’s too bad that ire is wasted. I doubt my Lady cares about one man’s quest for revenge.”

“I’m well aware that your Lady cares about nothing…save herself.”

“Quiet, all of you,” Lae’zel suddenly hisses. “There are lights up ahead!”

The group immediately halts; they’d just walked over a wooden, suspended bridge. To their left, the path goes up, onto a small hill that overlooks the right hand fork. The warm glow of torches approaches on the other side of the hill, out of place in this land.

Astarion, the stealthiest of the group, slips forward to scout. He presses himself against the trunk of a withered tree and peeks out from behind it.

Four figures approach their location. Two people carry torches, while the other two have crossbows out, loaded and nocked. The lead figure is a woman with thick, wavy hair, wearing what looks like a plain silver circlet. All four of them are well armored, their uniformity suggesting they’re part of the same organized group. “Stay together,” she says to her friends. “Keep to the light!”

Karlach shifts back on her heels, and a dead twig snaps underfoot. Astarion shoots her a glare, and she looks contrite, but it’s too late.

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!”

Astarion clicks his tongue, but straightens and holds up his hands, moving out from around the tree. Sable tenses, ready to spring out to defend her lover. “Easy now! We mean you no harm, so long as you don’t attack first.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” comes the reply as Astarion approaches.

But the blonde man holding a crossbow, aimed at Astarion, shifts too far from the glow of the torches. “Yonas! The light!” the leader hisses.

It’s too late. A piece of shadow forms behind the man, rearing up behind him and slashing down with claws made from pure darkness. Yonas cries out as he’s thrown to the ground, hitting his head on the rocky earth. With a last scream, he’s pulled out of sight, into the shadow-filled brush.

“YONAS!” the other female warrior screams as their small group rushes forward.

Sable’s group watches in horror as the man’s voice floats out, confused, only to be quickly struck down. It only takes another breathless moment, before Yonas comes shambling back over…but he’s changed. He’s obviously dead, his skin corrupted by blackened ichor, his eyes glowing a bright, sickly green.

“There you are,” he says, sounding like the words are breathed out of a decayed bellows. “Come…join me…”

“Harpers! To arms!”

The words had barely left the Harper woman’s mouth before six more shadows rise up among them.

And all hell breaks loose.

Karlach’s roar of rage echoes throughout the dead landscape as the living fight the shades. The clang of weapons provides harmony, and over it all Sable can year Gale, yelling as loud as he can: “THESE ARE CREATURES OF SHADOW! USE LIGHT AGAINST THEM!”

Shadowheart grimaces, but doesn’t hesitate. A ball of pure, radiant light forms in her hands, and she releases it into the middle of one of the shadow creatures. A thin wail escapes from the being, pained, mournful, before it bursts into motes of contrasting darkness and sparks of light.

Halsin growls deep in his throat, and his eyes glow as he raises one hand to the sky. Though the dark, menacing clouds don’t part, as the druid yanks his hand downward, a beam of pure moonlight shoots down from the heavens, enveloping and disintegrating one creature and taking the arm off another.

Sable, not having much in the way of offensive spells for this situation, instead rushes through the crowd of allies, bolstering and healing as needed. She learned a long time ago how to cast small spells through her feline form, so no one takes note of the little black cat with glowing ears gently tapping peoples’ shins. Healing flows through some, and for others she gifts them small boons to help in combat.

Astarion has made it to the top of that small hill, and he quickly realizes that his arrows, while they’re doing something, aren’t doing much. And so he works as more of a distraction than the lethal force he usually is; each arrow he fires draws attention from the shades and allows his companions to land hits easier.

And he’s certainly not following Sable's path, keeping the shades’ attention off his kitten as she flits from person to person.

The battle is over quickly. No one’s injured beyond cuts and superficial scrapes. Sable’s animal form shifts to normal, and she looks down curiously as the others approach. Left behind after the shades are dispatched are small orbs of darkness that shed a gentle, gray fog. She frowns as she squats down over the one at her feet, and she pokes it with the hilt of a dagger she keeps on her belt. When nothing happens, she sheathes it and reaches down.

“Kitten,” Astarion warns, “I don’t think that’s-”

The tip of her finger brushes the orb her nostrils flare with the scent of a freshly baked apple pie. She has to shush her little brother’s giggles, lest they give away their position under the sill, though she’s hard pressed to keep silent herself. She feels her lips stretch into a mischievous grin as she carefully reaches up and snags the pie. She runs, laughter in her lungs, her brother at her side, to find somewhere safe to eat their spoils-

She comes out of the vision with a cry, falling back onto her rear. She pats herself, the vision having felt so real that for a moment she was someone else entirely.

Astarion is at her side in a second, cupping her face, concern swimming in his crimson eyes. “Sable, what is it? What’s wrong? You froze up for a good ten seconds and then-”

“Wait, wait, wait…!” She turns and scrambles for another orb.

She watches in despair as her house smolders, falling to her knees as silent, disbelieving tears trek down her face. Her chest feels tight, oh, it aches so. She’d only been gone ten minutes, wanting some air after yet another spat with her mother. She hadn’t noticed the soldiers approaching her village until it was too late. As the shadows close in, her last thoughts are of regret, of how her final words to her mother had been those of anger, of hatred, instead of love.

She rips her hand away. Her face feels wet. She stares down at the orbs on the ground, her chest aching in the same way it had in that vision. “They…they were people,” she whispers, finally looking up at her vampire lover. “These used to be people who…who lived here.”

Halsin’s eyes close in pain, the guilt of centuries passing over his expression. Karlach curses under her breath and turns away, and Sable hears Wyll murmuring a soft prayer for their peace.

Astarion gathers her into his arms, letting her cry gently into his throat. He presses his lips to her hair, once more cursing the world that’s too cruel for his kitten.

The Harpers allow the moment of grief before approaching, and their leader nods to the smaller woman. “Our thanks, to you and your group. I am Lassandra, of the Harpers. This is Meygan, and Karrow.”

Wiping at her face as Astarion helps her to stand, feeling more like a child than the leader she’s supposed to be, she gives a nod back to the Harper. “Glad we could help,” Sable murmurs, and makes introductions. “Though…I can’t help but feel we got your friend killed.”

Lassandra shakes her head. “Yonas knew the risks out here. It was his own fault he didn’t stick close enough. He was a good man, but stupidity gets you killed in this land.”

“A very practical way of looking at things,” Shadowheart says, nodding.

“Practical, yes. A bit heartless, but practical,” Wyll murmurs.

The Harper woman scowls at him. “You want heart, head for sunnier climes. Here, it’s all about survival.” She looks back at Sable. “You’ve done us a good turn, so we’ll do the same for you. Come, we’re heading back to a safe place. Follow us.”

“A safe place?” the young druid asks. “How do you mean safe?”

“I mean, shielded from the curse.”

Halsin’s eyes widen. “Shielded? How is such a thing possible?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Without another word, she starts off. Sable looks to her friends, meets Astarion’s eyes, and turns to follow the Harpers deeper into the dark.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #my writing

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boinin · 3 months

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2024 check-in

It's been a while since I talked about Cassis Orange here. For those wondering, I still don't have a concrete ETA on when I'll publish the next chapters. I'm actively writing the final chapters as of now however, after a few false starts and writers' block. All I can say from here is, I'll keep people posted 🐞

For anyone interested in behind-the-scenes rambling about my writing process, more below the cut.

What's holding things up? Well, I like to finish a full draft of a piece, allow myself some breathing space from it, before going back to review, edit and weave together the chapter's themes and ideas.

Emphasis on "finish a full draft". That's a mistake I've made with Cassis Orange. I've always had sight of the destination, and the scenes needed to get the characters there, but not always how these scenes should join up or how they ought to flow.

In addition, nailing down themes and authentic character growth has been challenging. Lastly, the gap between writing chapters 1-8 and writing 9-10 has slowed progress, as I end up needing to re-read what's already there for consistency.

None of this is to the fic's detriment (I hope), but it's knocked my own motivation at times. "Done is better than perfect" is a motto I continually remind myself of. It's taking me longer than I'd like, that's just life. But I remain excited to finish the story, which is the main metric of concern 😉

Anyway, why is finishing a full draft so important?

Well...

Here's a quick look at my old drafts folder:

Chapter 9's main difficulty, despite me knowing exactly what needs to happen, is hitting the right emotional notes and character milestones. I've already made three distinct stabs at the same scenes, none of which really achieve what I want them to.

Thankfully, these particular issues aren't on the same scale as what I faced with Chapter 7. shudders I am confident about where to go next.

If you're wondering, IMO the best solution to this issue is to just... write them anyway. See the events out, imperfect as they may be. It's more insightful to revise a dysfunctional scene from beginning to end, than a half-baked draft that tails off in author despair and confusion.

A recurring mistake, which I'll try to learn from going forward.

|| Spoilers for published chapters of Cassis Orange start here! ||

This is my note on the oldest draft (which I first started in May, apparently?? holy fuck). Because I wrote out of sequence, the Chapter 9 I'd started doesn't align with the direction Chapter 7 and Chapter 8 took. In fact, it's different enough from what I want to convey that I've considered recycling the draft into its own fic. May still do, but not before I finish CO.

The "Kunigami Sadboi" draft is exactly what it sounds like lmao. In short, I sketched out some angsty scenes in his POV that take place between chapter 7 and chapter 8. Alexa, play I'm Not Okay (I Promise).

Ultimately, I determined these don't fit the vibe of the Chapter 9 I want to publish. But they served a valuable creative purpose. Even if it's not spelled out for you (the hypothetical reader), it's important that the writer (me) and by extension, the characters, know what happened off-screen.

These drafts are imperfect. But now that I'm carving out the final Chapter 9, I can cherry-pick ideas and imagery from them. No writing goes to waste, even if it's destined to lounge in your drafts folder for all eternity.

Anyway, if you've got this far, you deserve a medal. Instead, have a snippet of how Chapter 9 could have looked, had I hit publish on that older version. Featuring out-of-character weepy Chigiri and indulgent author moralising via Kunigami!

I'm irrationally fond of this moment, though it doesn't hold up for a number of reasons. It's what the idiom kill your darlings refers to. I can like this excerpt, and it may have some merit, but it doesn't serve the narrative at large. So it dies, along with the 15,000 other words that didn't quite hit the mark 🥲

Here's another snippet, from Kunigami's sadboi days:

Again, something I personally enjoyed writing. Kunigami's dynamic with his kids is something I treasure a lot about this AU. It's simply one of those scenes that's best kept to headcanon, due to the shape I want Chapter 9 to take.

#in which boinin babbles at length about writing #contains spoilers for the published chapters of cassis orange #so if my longfic is on your tbr list avoid reading to the end (I'll warn for spoilers)#cassis orange #kunigiri #kunigami x chigiri #fanfiction #fanfic #kunigami rensuke #chigiri hyoma #blue lock fanfiction #bllk fanfiction #mine

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kilikina34512 · 2 years

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Get a Room - Drabble

Goodness me, it feels good to be writing and posting something! I have such limited time to do so these days, but I just couldn't help the opportunity to put this thought to words and embrace the tease in me! I still have my bigger work coming out hopefully soon. I'm editing it slowly, but surely when I get an opportunity!

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: After work put you through the wringer, Bucky makes sure to treat your body just right to have you relaxed and pliant beneath him.

Warnings: (kind of a spoiler to the plot but) illusions to smut.

Word Count: 622

Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

"God, yes," you cried out. "Right there, just like that."

"You like that," Bucky asked. He pressed in deeper before asking, "What about this?"

All you could do was moan in response as you shoved your face into the couch cushion to muffle your voice. If it hadn't been for his sensitive hearing, Bucky probably wouldn't have been able to hear your drawn out whimpering plea to not stop as he pressed into you deeper. This was exactly what you needed after the morning you'd had. Working alongside Tony Stark made for some beyond stressful situations. You'd been pinned as one of the reasons that a product had completely failed to meet the launch date it had been scheduled for. You hadn't been, of course, but that didn't matter when you were dealing with higher ups. Paired with endless meetings and beyond complicated plans with unrealistic timelines to complete them all, your nerves had taken all that they could for the day.

Fortunately, a text to Bucky about how awful your morning had been and before you knew it, Bucky had gotten you freed for the afternoon. Apparently a promise of hanging out and riding their motorcycles was enough to get Steve to convince Tony to let you have the afternoon off. You weren't sure what the Captain had promised to make it happen, but you planned to make it up to him in thanks as well.

And now, you got to lie face first on the couch, enjoying the way Bucky was drilling into you. It was just what you needed to take the stress out of your body and bring relaxation back into your world.

"Just relax, kitten," he cooed. "I'll have you feeling better in no time." Your brain was lost in a haze though and all you could do was moan out in agreement. The world has become non-existent and all you could focus on was how Bucky was making you feel. Unfortunately, you were brought out of it by a voice from behind the couch.

"What the hell are you two doing," Sam asked incredulously. "This is a public area."

Your brows furrowed as you blinked before taking note of the position you were in. Lying across the couch in the compound, Bucky was sat back on his heels, his body straddling yours. He had the back of your blouse pulled out from where you'd tucked it into your pencil skirt and was showing about two inches of your back. The exact area he'd been drilling his thumbs into your muscles, giving you the best deep massage you'd ever received. It took a moment to realize that the position you were in paired with the sounds you made and Bucky's words, it could seem quite provocative despite both of you being completely clothed.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Wilson," you murmured, raising up onto your forearms to look up at him easier. "Buck's just helping me relax."

"That's not what it sounds like," he scoffed before turning to leave the room. "Next time y'all decide to 'massage each other,'" his voice emphasizing the air quotations, "do it from Bucky's room and spare the rest of us."

You and Bucky shared a look before a sexy smirk crossed his face. "He didn't suggest a bad idea, kitten."

You feigned offense as you asked, "Are you seriously suggesting getting freaky with me right now?"

Bucky leaned down, biting the shell of your ear before whispering, "I would much rather hear those sounds coming from you while you're on top of me instead. Plus, you'll be real relaxed when I'm done with you." With an offer like that, how could you refuse? One breathless confirmation from you, and you both took off to do exactly what Sam had suggested.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #not really smut #smut adjacent #only tease #sam wilson #kili stories

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spicywhumper · 3 months

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@febuwhump 2024: day 14. blood-stained tiles + @femslash-february bingo (dark edition): blood

series: crimson history (war dog) | rating: mature | word count: 1,397

cw: mentioned stepcest & underage non-con, blood and miscarriage (the word isn't said, but what's going on is pretty obvious).

Jessica has been feeling a little sick since last night, nausea and lightheaded. it felt like dread pooling on her stomach, like something back was about to happen, and it's weird because she definitely doesn't have the talent of a seer. she has good instincts, or more like she has been trained so well she can tell what's her enemy's next move and block or counterattack it.

but it's a Tuesday afternoon and she's bleeding in the bathroom floor.

she's used to bleed and she's used to physical pain. she had the bruises and the scars to prove it, Joan has tested her pain tolerance time and time again. Joan has improved it throughout the years. Jessica is more than familiar with aches of being punched and kicked and whipped, used to the agony of being burnt and cut and straight up tortured. she has been experimented on and tested to see how much pain she can handle without losing performance.

but this?

this feels much, much worse and she's not sure of why.

Jessica's breathing is erratic and shallow as she curls up on the cold floor. in fetal position, she feels small and vulnerable. the pain is all-compassing, it's the only thing she can feel and think. hellfire that starts on her lower belly, she recognizes it as something similar to the very few period cramps she experienced. but much, much more intense than those.

there's also a lot more blood, it pools around her and stains the white tiles. it almost reminds her of her latest mission, being shot in the leg and still moving across the snow. right now, she can't move at all. she can barely think, just feel the agony.

Jessica curses, mentally, everyone.

she has tried to avoid it at all costs, asked Rachel for the stupid little pills and ignored the symptoms caused by them. she hid and had been taking it religiously until Jennifer found and got upset. upset enough to ditch her, tell their parents.

mom just frowned, but shrugged, not that interested in her half sex demon daughter's sexual habits. probably glad that she was, at least, trying to not be another girl going through teen pregnancy. Jocelyn even got her some condoms, actually, a little box that she hid under Jessica's boxers with a note "take care".

mother had shrugged too.

then in their "mother-dautghet bonding time", made Jessica lay across her lap and spanked her until her butt and the back of her thighs were black and blue. she pulled her hair and didn't give her much time to think before she was being choked and Joan was telling her that if a slut gets bred, than a slut gets babies.

nevermind it was Joan's fault.

she also started deeper checks, weekly, so no pills and no condoms and now Joan touched her even more frequently.

so...

Jessica has a good guess of what's going on, considering that her periods had definitely stopped at this point. and Joan has been in a mission, apparently, or just wanted to prove that there's no need for attempts at preventing pregnancy. (she doesn't think Joan would like her little War Dog to get pregnant, to be bred like a breeding stock. even if she allowed it... would she be willing to let Dog be out of commission for months? for even longer to recover from pregnancy? would she even allowed It to bond with Its child? probably not, considering it's Joan).

now she's bleeding and writhing on the floor, too weak by the stupid pain and by the despair of knowing she'd be punished for it. it doesn't matter that it's 100% Joan's fault, it was Joan who forfeited condoms and didn't want her to take pills or even little potions after the fact to stop it to take root in her womb.

it's all Joan's fault – the Dog whimpers and curls up in the back of her head in response of her hatred toward Its master, towards Its owner.

she can't think much, she can't move, just wait for Jennifer to come from her rune translation class. only one person would be a better choice to find her, but Rachel doesn't have a good excuse to wander around that part of the compound, she's also probably pretty busy with all the potions she has to brew and keep on stock in a coven full of younglings in training.

Jessica's breathing hitches as she hears the door unlocking, then Jennifer's voice; "Jessie, I'm- Jessie?"

she has a sensitive nose, less than Jessica's, but still sensitive. (having a sharp sense of smell was the difference between coming home tonight or spend the night under Rachel's healing because Joan tried to whip the flesh off the Its back we punishment). quick, heavy steps make her flinch even if she knows it's just Jennifer. she flinches even if it's one of the very few people that make her feel safe.

"Jessie!" Jennifer kneels, Jessica can feel her hands hovering on her arms, unsure if what to do and she gathers all strength she still has.

"g-get- fuck- Rachel."

"Rachel?" Jessica sighs.

"Redwoods."

it takes Jennifer another few seconds, but she recognizes the name and sprints out of the bathroom. the Redwoods family, well, were wand makers even if most of the coven has some very basic training in wand magic, they're traditionally a runes-based magic. and Rachel was the only one that specialized in healing instead. she's also Jessica's healer, have been since her training started when Jessica was barely older than a toddler.

she thinks about how she's staining the nicely white tiles as she waits for hours – feels like hours, it's probably no more than ten minutes. Jennifer's rambling something about finding her, probably all over again, as they approach her. Rachel's magical aura is familiar and comfortable, she's so used to being under her care that her body reacts by relaxing. (she can almost see Jennifer frowning, knowing Jessica is never comfortable and relaxed).

"I need to get you to the healers ward," Jessica grunts, she doesn't want to go but the first rule is: always listen to the healer. "I'll pick you up now."

she nods her consent. Rachel grunts with effort, Jessica is far from her lightest patience. with the height and the muscles, it's actually impressive that Rachel manages to carry her.

Jessica curls in her arms, it's safe and it's warm. she thinks that this sort of safe, protected sensation that runs under her skin when Rachel holds her is the kind of thing she should feel with Joan. but she doesn't, never really did.

(hell, she doesn't feel like that with Jocelyn. and it's different with Jennifer.

Jennifer's less her big sister and more someone she has a friends with benefits situation going on.)

(they like to pretend that it's more friends with benefits than girlfriends, it's harder now that Jennifer had been having a thing with someone else, Jessica isn't stupid.)

she can feel Jennifer following them, reeking of nervous energy and wanting to know what's going on. she wishes Jennifer wasn't the one who found her. Jennifer cares too much, or cares as much as family should but Jessica doesn't have a good reference on that.

minutes run throught the fingers of her awareness and then she's laying in a bed. she's more than familiar with the sensation of lying on top of it, it almost has her name written all over it with how often she comes here in need of emergency healing. she tries her best to not squirm too much, knowing how it makes checking her a little harder.

but she wants to curl up as if it'd make the pain stop.

she roughly aware of Rachel telling Jennifer to leave. she's not sure how much is because she already knows what's wrong with her, and doesn't want the older girl to know it like this, or if it's because a half-werewolf will panic if they stay too long around the smell of blood and distress of someone they care about.

"here," Rachel's hand is warm on the back of her head to help it up. "here, it'll help with the pain."

it'll help with the pain because it'll make her fall asleep. Jessica doesn't care, she just wants it to stop.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday14 #femslash feb bingo #whump #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #lady whump #miscarriage cw #blood cw

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rin-the-cat · 7 months

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I was going to edit and add this rant to my previous post but it got so long I decided to give it its own post.

I don't understand how Doctors get a way writing up their notes like they do. At the vet clinic where I work, if a doctor doesn't examine something on an animal they put in the record that they did not examine it, but this never seems to be what human doctors do. Lets use my recent visit to a Rheumatologist. I will begin by prefacing that, in this case, I did not come away from the visit feeling like he had done a poor job. He did an exam that I felt was adequate for the situation and he asked all the right questions. However, the notes that he put into my legal medical record do not reflect the exam that he actually did.

Warning: very long rant ahead.

TLDR: Doctors lie in legal medical records all the time and sometimes it can have major consequences, but apparently not for the doctor or they wouldn't keep doing it.

ENT examined for oral mucositis, moisture, thrush, nasal deformity, external ear redness, deformity.

He did not look into my mouth and I don't think he was sitting close enough to me to get a good look from me just talking.

Abdomen examined for softness, tenderness, obvious organomegaly.

He never touched my abdomen

Neurological examination done for alertness, speech, facial symmetry, tone and power in upper and lower extremities, and gait.

He never checked tone or power in my lower extremities. I'm not sure that he examined the tone or power of my upper extremities now that I think of it. The only opportunity he had to see my gait was the two steps it took for me to get to the table, and I was very obviously limping.

The joint examination is performed for swelling, tenderness, warmth, erythema, and range of motion in the following joints: DIPs, PIPs, MCPs, wrists, first CMC's, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, ankles, feet; spine for range of motion and paraspinal muscles for tenderness.

He did feel the joints in my hands (the reason why I was there.) but he didn't check range of motion on any joints or feel anything in my lower extremities.

The salient normal / abnormal findings are appended.

I suppose this line is supposed to excuse the fact that everything above it was a copy/pasted generic normal exam findings...

She is tender in the PIPs especially ring middle and index fingers, she does not have definite synovitis in any of the palpable joints. She does not have dactylitis. There is no nail pitting or onycholysis. She does not have a rash on her face there is no sclerodactyly periungual erythema. She has minimal if any tenderness across trapezius along the paraspinal regions. She did not have any significant tenderness in the trochanteric areas

This is the exam that he actually did in its entirety. Why type this out and include the copy-pasted bit that reports normal exam findings for things you didn't examine? What if you put this in my medical record today and tomorrow I ended up in the ER with a giant abdominal tumor that you somehow missed when you supposedly palpated my abdomen. It seems like you could/should get in serious trouble if something like that happened.

And that is basically what happened to my mom. She went in for pain in her back, over her ribs. The doctor didn't touch her except to "hit" the spot that hurt (her words, not mine. I do know that the spot that was hurting was so tender that a tap could have felt like he smacked her.) He declared that she had a broken rib, sent her to x-ray then sent her home. However the exam notes he put in her record read just like the ones above. The next day the pain was so bad she ended up in the ER where it was discovered that she had stage 4 lymphoma. It would not have been possible to do the exam that his notes claimed that he did and not realize that there was something more than a broken rib going on. This is a pet scan of her upper body. For those unfamilure with looking at CT scans or PET scans. the gray area at the top is her brain, the scan goes down to her mid-waist, and her arms are held up above her head. All of those bright white blobs are enlarged, involved lymph nodes.

On a normal person, you would only feel one node on each side of the neck and one node in each armpit area There are more there, but they would normally they would be too small to really feel. You can see on this scan that if he had palpated her neck, he would have felt numerous lumps. If he had felt her armpit (which you might not normally do, but if there were a bunch of enlarged nodes in the neck, you would probably feel the armpits next), he would have felt many lumps there too. If he had done the thorough exam that his medical exam notes claimed he did, he would not have though this was a simple broken rib.

Now would it have made a difference if it had been caught 24 hours sooner? Absolutely not, but that's not the point. The point is that Doctors lie in their patients medical records every day. Lying in a legal medical records is grounds for losing your license so why is lying and saying you examined something that you did examine given a pass? Why would doctors take the risk of doing multiple times a day, every day?

I like the way our medical records software is set up at the vet clinic where I work. There is a check list of all the systems that are typically examined. If a Doctor examines a system and it's normal they check a box but don't enter any notes. If something is abnormal they check the box and put in their notes in the text box next to the chart. If they don't examine a system (say there's an aggressive dog in for a routine exam, they might skip looking in the mouth.) then they don't check the box. When they are done it auto-populates the exam findings and for any system not examined it lists it as not examined. And that's now it should be, if a doctor doesn't examine something, they shouldn't be reporting normal findings. And here's the thing, the doctors that I work with actually do do a thorough exam, nearly every time. Doesn't matter if the dog is in for a well check or because they are sick, they look in the ears, eyes, mouth. they feel all the lymph nodes. They check range of motion on all four limbs. They feel the spine and check for neurological deficits. They listen to the chest. They palpate the abdomen. And that last one is a big one because dogs tend to get these primary splenetic tumors that are totally asymptomatic until one day it ruptures and the dog bleeds out. There have been many times where these tumors were discovered at an annual well check and the spleen could be removed while the dog was healthy instead of it being an emergency surgery on a critically ill dog. And the vet does all this so quickly and with a practiced ease that you might not even notice them doing it.

I think part of the reason that this is standard practice at any (decent) vet practice is because animals can't tell us where it hurts or how they are feeling, and I suppose human doctors assume we will be able to tell them if something is wrong. But here's the thing, that's not always true. Someone might have had a problem their whole life and assume that it's a normal thing. I tend to clam up at the doctor and forget what I wanted to say (It's really annoying, take the rheumatology visit for an example. My hands have been a major problem for me lately, the pain interferes to some degree with nearly every daily task that requires dexterity, but once I'm sitting in the office I sound more like, "My fingers hurt a little I guess... I don't know, I guess when I open jars 'n stuff" and mean while the doctor is probably thinking, "wtf is she doing here?" and I know the solution to this should be to write a list but when I try to do that my mind goes blank. My mostly nonverbal autistic 7 year old certainly isn't going to be able to tell the doctor what the problem is. I can't even get him to point to where it hurts when he hurts himself, i just have to wait and see where the bruise pops up.

#medical trauma #fibromyalgia #chronic illness #cancer #lymphoma #tw: cancer #tw: medical trauma #Doctors #medical records #chronic pain

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