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imagine-darksiders · 9 days ago

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Absolute Anarchy - chapter 2

The Bull.

A Darksiders/Scp au.

Cw: Animal death, threat, guns, shooting, references to goring, livestock, abuse, blood.

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Two days.

By your count, it’s been two days since you were pulled from the SCP’s cell and tossed unceremoniously back into your own with Mullins’s gloat echoing in your ear.

“Enjoy solitary, Scuzz.”

A slammed door, a buzzing overhead light, and nothing but your peeling wallpaper and creaky bed springs to keep you company…

Two days is beginning to feel like an eternity.

You have to remind yourself that it’s not.

They’ve only given you four meals, after all.

Taking a mental account of the trays that are shoved through the slat in your door is just about the only way you can measure the passage of time in here. Two meals a day, morning and evening. That’s the facility’s standard. And they’re all ‘served’ to you with the decorum of throwing slop to a pig.

Apparently, you revoked your rights to eat in the mess hall with the other D-Class after you refused to follow orders to shoot at the new SCP, or so you assume.

The first day was embarrassing, to say the least. You spent it in a state of near-complete hysteria, wailing and pitching a fit at the locked door, out of your mind with fear that at any moment, they’d come through it and drag you off to a fate worse than death. When you were hoarse in the throat, and your eyes red-raw from trying to scrub them dry, you hunched over in the corner like an animal, shivering violently in sporadic bursts.

Then the first meal arrived.

You ignored it, and it sat there unappealingly on the shelf attached to the slat on your side of the door until, hours later, that slat scraped open again and the second tray was shoved through, neatly sending its predecessor clattering to the floor.

It sounded so much like the gun you dropped in that thing’s cell.

It takes another few hours to muster the courage to unfold yourself from the corner and stumble towards the food, stepping absentmindedly around the grey porridge going hard on the floor.

The second day is spent on your back, staring bleakly up at a grey ceiling and trying to occupy your mind. Inevitably, your thoughts turn to the SCP. Moreso, the colossal gun fused with its biological arm, and the chambers that had been pointing straight at you, so much like Mullins’s Beretta…

But it hadn’t fired a single round…

Why…?

Well, you suppose you have an indeterminate amount of time to muse on its reasoning. You have no idea how long they plan to keep you in solitary, after all.

However, as punishments go, you think this one has so far been remarkably tame.

Nearly two whole days without being thrown to the wolves! Marvellous, in the grand scheme of things.

You suppose if anything, you ought to just settle in and enjoy the relative peace and quiet where you aren’t being tested against the nightmares of this facility. Why, this isolation is practically bliss!

Of course, no sooner have you thrown that semi-optimistic spin on your situation…

“Oi!”

Somehow, not even complete and total separation from your fellow humans could make you miss the sound of Mullins’s strident shout.

When your door is roughly hauled open for the first time in days, you feel no joy or elation, and certainly not gratitude. All you know is the unshiftable ball of dread rolling around in your guts.

Mullins looms in the doorway once more, his lips moulded around a cigarette that hangs loosely between his teeth.

“Get movin’,” he growls, the dog end of his cig flaring like a red-hot poker, “Dinner time.”

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Is it comedic or tragic to find yourself once again standing rigidly in SCP-8103’s loading dock? Because you sure as Hell don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When you arrived, you half expected the scientists to shove another rifle in your hands and order you to finish what you never even started. Instead, much to your astonishment and trepidation, they hadn’t given you so much as a by-your-leave before they forced you through the doors at gun point.

No instructions. No way to defend yourself. Just your jumpsuit, and your wits – which seem few and far between these days.

Chewing ravenously on your lip, you wait for the secondary door to start ascending; just another yawning beast opening up to welcome you into an entirely different maw.

You really, really don’t like what Mullins had alluded to when he said, ‘dinner time.’

Are you finally being thrown to the very deadly wolf?

The SCP did have teeth, you recall in uncomfortable detail. Very big, very sharp teeth, suggesting to you that it must have to use them at some point. Though for what, you hardly dare imagine.

You’d convinced yourself you got lucky the first time you were pulled from the cell without being riddled by giant bullets. Now you wonder if your luck wasn’t just biding its time, waiting for you to let your guard down before it suddenly pulls the rug out from under you and abandons you to your fate.

The secondary door of the loading dock whooshes open to admit you, and you have to release a shaky breath when no body flops through the gap. Then it occurs to you that the bodies might not have been removed by human hands, and suddenly you feel like being sick all over again. The blood is still there, of course, dark and dry and crusting over the tiniest cracks in the floor. But at least most of the truly gory viscera is… absent.

With an audible gulp, you tread carefully around the dark patch near your feet and tiptoe to the corner of the dock, bracing your spine to the wall.

Once again, you can’t hear anything inside. But it must have heard the door open. It must know you’re here.

“D-Class,” a scientist’s voice crackles over the speakers.

Almost instantly, a familiar growl thunders to life, spilling across the airwaves and rolling around the corner towards you.

Ah. There it is.

“Stop hiding by the door this instant and step into the containment unit.”

Well… If it didn’t know where you were before, it certainly does now. At least it’s stopped growling.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you lean cautiously out past the threshold, twisting your neck about to try and catch a glimpse of the entity before it can spot you.

Of course, that was wishful thinking.

A pair of golden eyes leer down at you from the other side of the room, sending you ducking back behind the wall with a gasp, clutching at the front of your jumpsuit. Whatever courage you’d scraped off the sides of your empty reserves had been entirely spent on throwing your weapon down the other day, defying orders and expecting, genuinely, to be gunned down.

You can’t do this again, not when your heart is on the verge of breaking out through your ribcage. Perhaps you can linger here in the doorway for the duration of the-

“-Now!”

You flinch, smacking the back of your skull against the wall.

“Ah! Shit.”

Right… Foolish of you to forget that in this place, choice is a badly concealed illusion.

You’ve already pushed your luck once, and just because it didn’t result in your becoming a lure subject for the Old Man or some other horrific fate, doesn’t mean that won’t happen if you continue to refuse orders.

You wonder how pathetic you must look to the Lab Coats now, sniffling in miserable resignation as you force yourself to edge around the corner, hugging the wall, with your eyes cast to the floor, falling back into that old childhood mindset that if you can’t see the monster, then the monster can’t see you.

The door you’d crept beneath falls shut with a deafening ‘wham,’ and there’s the familiar whirring of the locks as they pivot back into place.

You’re immediately greeted by a low, throaty rumble from the SCP.

Quaking, you drag your gaze off the floor and venture a glance up at the other end of the cell.

And there it is.

Stooped in a crouch against the furthest wall of its cell, SCP-8103 is lurking, that streamlined tail lifting and slumping to the ground like an agitated feline’s, and its great, silver head turned in your direction, poised to watch you through raptorial eyes.

A lipless mouth peels apart and issues a steady hiss between its blackened fangs, eyelids narrowing to thin slits that bleed golden light.

“Hssss…!”

“…Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, bracing each palm on the wall and pushing yourself away from the security of having a solid surface pressed to your fragile spine, “I’m not exactly thrilled to see you again either.”

The entity’s hiss peters off at the sound of your voice, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the pair of you merely regard each other; it with apparent aloofness and you with the trepidation of a mouse trying to step through a trap unscathed.

There is one imminently glaring thing that you can’t help but notice; the entity has made no move to aim its gun arm at you, which you suppose is a good thing. Evidently, it appears content for the time being to simply glare down at you from the opposite side of the room.

Does it even remember you? It must, if it isn’t aiming a weapon at you, you muse. Implying that it doesn’t see you as much of a threat.

Fine by you.

Hands clasping and unclasping, you somehow find the strength to tear your gaze away from its relentless stare and turn instead to the observation window, noting the several figures muddling about in the dimly lit room, some motionless, some scribbling away on their clipboards, and one hunched over a bank of monitors, no doubt keeping watch over everything that happens in this cell.

Swallowing past a lump in your throat, you flick a hurried glance over to the SCP again, only to go stiff when it turns its head parallel to the wall behind it, regarding you from the corner of one eye. At least it doesn’t otherwise seem inclined to move any more than that.

“Um…” Breathing a near silent sigh, shuddering at the thought of accidentally provoking a reaction, you peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth and shout-whisper at the window, “I… I never got a debrief?”

The inferred question goes unanswered, and you’re just beginning to muse on whether or not they can even hear you when the speakers crackle to life once more.

“D-One-nine-three-five…” comes a female voice this time, clipped and staccato. And cold. Cold like an icy road in winter, dangerous on all fronts for those unprepared to face it.

“Approach SCP and commence interrogation.”

Interrogation?

As if it understood the word just as well as you do, the entity’s tail flicks up to curl over its helm in one, smooth motion, pivoting slowly towards the window as a quiet hum starts to build at the base of its throat.

“So, that’s their game,” you huff, watching the SCP snap its jaws at the scientists, privately pleased that the focus has shifted away from you for the time being.

For as much as they like to try and impress upon you all that this place is a research facility, not a prison, the Lab Coats aren’t very good at keeping a lid on the jailhouse jargon.

You can still remember your own awful interrogation, back before you learned what this place really was. Two men in grey suits, each carrying themselves with the highest level of self-importance…

‘Do you have any family?’ they’d asked you in that too-bright room, a fluorescent light buzzing noisily overhead, ‘Close friends? Are you employed?’

You often kick yourself for not hearing their real question woven between the lines.

‘Is there anyone who would notice your absence?’

You’d been blinded by confusion, panicking from the sudden threat of having your future ripped away from you, bleak as it was. It might have been bleak, but it was still yours.

You answered ‘no.’

It probably wouldn’t have made a difference even if you’d told them ‘yes.’ They’d have soon found you out to be a liar when they inevitably sent agents to administer amnestics to your supposed friends.

And now those same people want you to interrogate an unclassified, highly volatile SCP?

The deliberate echoing of their method sparks an uncomfortable comparison in your mind, and you find yourself suddenly unnerved by the idea that you D-Class aren’t truly so different from the entities in this place, are you?

Both subjected to tests you want no part in. Both locked up against your wills. Both at the mercy of people who believe your suffering will lead to the greater good…

You catch yourself before such thoughts can develop. Dangerous territory to be delving into.

Stupid.

But still, the irony of your paralleled circumstances doesn’t escape you.

Just how on Earth are you even supposed to begin interrogating a gigantic, unknowable entity anyway?

Say ‘How do you do,’ and offer a handshake?

Blowing a slow and unsteady breath through your lips, you elect to ignore the first order to move closer, and instead hope the scientists will be appeased when you open your mouth to speak.

Its attention has already returned to you, its horns jutting forwards like prongs ready to skewer.

You shove aside the visceral thought of your body dangling from one of those horns, and instead clear your throat, resolving to say whatever comes to mind. Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s ineffectual, even if it’s…

“Er…. Mm. H-hello.”

Smooth as a country road…

The entity just stares down at you blankly for a second before two slitted nostrils open up just above its mouth, flaring widely as it gives the air an audible sniff.

It doesn’t raise its gun though, which is encouraging.

Giving another hard cough to re-clear your throat, you stammer out, “I-I… I like your gun?”

‘Smack.’

Someone must have slapped a palm to their face and left the microphone on for you to hear it. Still, that saves you from doing the same, at least. If you aren’t careful, this will quickly turn into less of an interrogation and more of a social blunder.

Even the SCP looks bewildered. You’re sure that’s the first time you’ve seen it blink – just a quick flicker of golden light as it recoils its head slightly and spares a glance down at the aforementioned weapon fused to its arm, helm cocked in the opposite direction.

“It… it is a gun, isn’t it?” you ramble on, clenching your hands into the overhanging sleeves of your jumpsuit, “I mean, I never actually saw you fire it but… I – I can only assume that’s what… happened to the people before me…” Your sentence tapers off into silence when the entity looks down at you once more, opening its mouth.

You brace yourself, all the breath caught in your lungs whilst you wait for it to let out another snarl… Or worse…

Instead, what travels up its throat and slips between its crooked fangs is less aggression and more… well, you don’t know what. But it’s a far less vehement sound than you’ve heard prior. A hum, you suppose, still deep and hollow, but the intention behind it doesn’t strike with the same chord as a growl.

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you add with a stilted laugh that doesn’t even touch genuine. When the beast blinks again, you hastily add, “For not killing me, I mean. Not for… Well, y’know.”

A vague gesture at the blood staining the walls and floor says more than enough, though it is odd that the SCP’s gaze follows your hands and glances at each of the dark patches in turn, warbling another strange note from its chest.

“Sooo…~ Yeah.” Drumming your fingertips against the front of your thighs, you click your tongue and reach for anything constructive to say. “Thank you.”

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“Did you see that?”

The scientist’s painted lips crook up, intrigued. The expression is quick to falter as she glances about at her peers, all of whom are shooting her looks of varying uncertainty.

With a sharp tut, she stabs her chin at the SCP. “It reacted to the mention of its gun. Looked right at it when the D-Class referred to it. Which tells us…”

When all she received are several, blank faces, she heaves an enormous sigh and lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes screwing shut in exasperation. “If it looked to the gun when the D-Class mentioned its gun….?”

“Oh!” It’s her intern who eventually pipes up. “It speaks English!”

Frankly, she thinks her fellow researchers ought to be embarrassed that a greenhorn is the one who makes the connection.

“Or understands it, at least,” she adds, flicking the microphone on once more.

"D-One-nine-three-five. Tailor your inquiries to matters of the SCP’s origins.”

With the instruction dished out, she removes her finger from the switch and steps closer to the observation window, taking a mental note of each expression flitting across the D-Class’s face.

Surprise, then horror, then settling on a grim acceptance, illustrated by the hard line your lips draw themselves into.

At the very least, she plans to get some information about the SCP before the next, real test can begin.

Tossing a look over her shoulder at Mullins, she asks, “Is the specimen ready?”

The guard, who had previously been leering at the scientists from his spot by the door, snaps to attention with a click of his boot before he whips out his walkie-talkie and mutters something into it.

After a static-laden response from the other side, he gives her a nod. “It’s in the crush,” he says, “Prepped and ready to be deployed.”

“Good,” she returns, straightening her back with a satisfied hum, “We’ll give the D-Class a few more minutes to get what little information out of this thing is to be had…. Activate the crush at…�� Trailing off, she checks her watch, “- Fourteen hundred hours.”

Bringing everything right up to schedule.

Perfect.

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You wonder if you’ll go down in the Foundation’s history as being the first D-Class who ever thanked an SCP for not killing them.

What you said - that hesitant, ‘Thank you.' - you said with the intent to appease the armoured titan somehow, a feeble attempt at appealing to whatever intelligence might lay behind its silver helm.

Because you’re only too aware that in this cell, placating the enemy is the sole weapon you have in your arsenal. For when the enemy is this much larger, stronger, and deadlier than you are, you’ll never beat it in a confrontation.

You had not, however, expected that this kind of SCP was the type to be assuaged.

And yet…

By some miracle, you’re still alive, and the fact that its thunderous growls have petered out entirely suggests you’ve done something right, at least. Even if that something was just letting your mouth talk while your brain was busy frantically trying to make sense of the SCP’s bizarre behaviour.

Is it the sound of your voice that’s caused it to fall silent and take a single, heavy step towards you – one that you match with a rapid retreat of your own – or is it the words themselves that seem to have piqued its curiosity.

And if the latter rings true, would that imply that this entity is capable of understanding English?

Now there’s a question that befits a proper interrogation.

You have to admit, you’re about willing to ask it anything that’ll stop the beast from backing you into the far wall, something it’s been doing with its slow, measured steps for the past few moments, the pale pupils of its eyes large and round as it angles its head from side to side and peers down at you like it means to take you in from every perspective.

“Hey, um-“ you begin, swallowing your spit when the tail sprouting from its back twitches with apparent interest, “Can you… understand me?”

You almost feel the scientists holding their collective breaths. From the corner of an eye, you see several of them lean closer to the window.

Even you’re waiting on tenterhooks as it pauses, one of those terrible, clawed feet thumping back down in the spot it had just lifted from. You give the SCP a moment, but soon enough, as it raises its snout to the air and gives a few audible sniffs with those slanted nostrils, you realise you’re not going to get a discernible response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then,” you finally add, neither pleased nor put out by the revelation. All you want is to leave this cell. Once is lucky, twice is coincidence. You don’t want to find out if you’ll survive your third visit…

It doesn’t offer a response beyond lowering its head and staring straight down at you again, an upsetting display that leaves you feeling as though you’re being pinned by the gaze of a hunter.

“So, can I come out now, or...?” you ask the people on the other side of the window without taking your eyes off the towering brute. There’s only half a containment cell separating you from it.

You don’t realise at first why nobody responds to you.

Their silence is quick to make sense however, when there’s a sudden sound to your right.

At the disturbance, you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to face the noise, and as you do, the SCP follows suit, its tail hurtling up into position above its head, aimed with rigid precision at a large panel of the otherwise featureless wall that’s suddenly sprung open.

A door, you realise belatedly.

And your stomach drops the moment you remember exactly what kind of door it is.

You’ve only seen it in operation once, in a much different cell with a much different SCP.

D-Class call them ‘feeding tubes.’

The Lab Coats call them ‘crushes;’ close-fitting cages hidden behind the walls of a cell where drugged up livestock are held until the scientists release them into an SCP’s unit for consumption….

‘Dinner time.’

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss through your teeth.

You can’t see around the corner into the crush, but goddamn, you can hear the very recognisable bellow of an animal that’s just come around from sedation, its hooves stamping in confused fury against the metal floor beneath it.

A stomach-lurching snarl punches through the air and draws a cry of fright from your lungs. The SCP’s hackles are raised, bulging and bristling as it snaps at something you can’t yet see, its black fangs protruding from dark gums, and the pupils in its golden stare shrinking down to pinpricks.

And worst of all, bad enough to put the fear of death back into your quibbling heart, is the arm it raises slowly into the air, the all-too familiar whirring of machinery filling your ears as the cylinders near its elbow start to rotate - a gatling gun gearing up to fire.

The animal in the crush snorts madly, and with an abrupt rattling of metal followed by a clang and a thud, it charges from its confines and hurtles through the gap into the cell, a blur of black hair and dark, rolling eyes and a pair of horns lancing forwards from the top of its head.

It’s a bull.

Massive, terrified, furious.

You let out an embarrassing bleat when he bursts into the cell.

Almost at once, he catches sight of the titan in front of him, and he throws his head back with a snort, cloven hooves scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth concrete floor as he skids to a halt just several yards shy of the looming SCP.

You can only reason that he’s burned through the sedative quicker than anticipated. Usually, the livestock are so drowsy, they’ll stand stock still and do absolutely nothing to stop themselves from being killed or eaten alive by the SCPs.

Even months down the line, you still shudder to recall the time you painted the floor of SCP-5031’s cell with the contents of your stomach after witnessing it slice mercilessly into an unfortunate sheep.

You’re really not eager to have a repeated incident here.

Flanks quivering with adrenaline, the bull’s bulging eyes stare up at the colossus in front of him. And then, as bulls are often wont to do, he begins to size up his opponent.

Your heart flips upside down in your chest as you wedge yourself firmly into the corner, blood-shot eyes darting up to the SCP’s gun arm.

Why hasn’t it fired yet?

The gun is still humming, aimed squarely at the poor animal, but all its wielder does is snap its fangs together a few times, not unlike a bird clacking its beak to warn others off its territory.

In response, the bull huffs a breath through wide nostrils, sweat clinging to his glossy shoulders. Then, tossing his horns and turning to the side, he begins a back-and-forth trot from left to right in front of the SCP, who tracks the agitated creature’s movements steadily with its weapon.

But still, it doesn’t shoot.

Your knocking knees can’t hold you up any longer, and they give out quite promptly, forcing you to hunker down instead. The position in your corner is too open, too vulnerable. If bullets do start flying, you need to be as tiny a target as possible.

Breathing fast and hard, your vision starts to swim as you shoot a desperate, pleading glance at the window, praying to a god you no longer believe in that one of the Lab Coats will take pity on you and open the door.

It’s wishful thinking at its finest.

The bull’s moos only seem to grow increasingly frantic with each second that ticks by, shrill and broken as though he too is calling for help the only way he knows how. He paces like a caged rat, looking for an escape even as he continues throwing his head down and tilting his horns in the SCP’s direction. A meagre threat to be sure, but the bull isn’t to know that.

And as for the entity, while its arm continues to follow the bull's path across the room, its only outward acknowledgement of the animal in its cell is to utter a slow, continuous growl that seems to build towards an inevitable crescendo.

“Come on,” you breathe, teeth chattering between the words, “Open the fucking door!”

You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. You shouldn’t have made a sound. If only you’d just shut up and hunkered down in your corner, perhaps you wouldn’t have drawn any attention to yourself.

One of the bull’s ears flicks backwards, and all of a sudden, he wrenches himself away from the SCP and spins around on his hooves to face you, head held high and the whites of his eyes shining clear as day against his jet-black hair.

You meet that gaze; and understand. You’re both cattle here. Just a pair of frightened animals trapped against their wills with a common enemy who outmatches you in every conceivable aspect.

But the bull, of course, doesn’t think like you do. He doesn’t know you’re just as afraid as he is. He’s been brought here by creatures who look and sound and smell like you, and now here’s one of them: standing in front of him like a target, stark against his grey-walled cage with hard floors and no familiar sky over his head.

A bull doesn’t consider the fairness in a fight. A threat is a threat, no matter the size.

Tail whipping madly through the air, the bull leans back on his hindquarters, and before you can blink, he abruptly surges forwards into a head-long charge, nose tucked into his chest, horns aimed with deadly precision at your abdomen.

You don’t even notice when the SCP’s growls cut out. You’re too busy throwing your hands up in front of you and wrenching your head away from the charging missile, letting your jaw hang open around a silent scream. If you had the time, you’d pause to reflect on the irony of being killed by the least likely suspect.

As it is, the bull is only a few strides from you, hooves flying, thick neck rippling with muscle that’s about to thrust forwards and impale you on an entirely new set of horns. He bellows, the haunting din deafening to your ringing ears, and then he –

‘-BLAM!’

There’s an almighty thud, and something wet splatters across your shaking palms.

At last, your scream catches on a vocal cord, and the sound rips out of you like a wailing siren.

Someone in the observation room must have left the microphone on because you can suddenly hear an exclamation of ‘Jesus Christ!’

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly, it’ll take a crowbar to pry them open again.

Even as the mechanical whir of machinery dies down, even as something with titanic lungs heaves deep, grunting breaths, even as the ground beneath your plimsoles vibrates with the fall of enormous feet, you don’t look.

You can’t.

You can’t… until out of nowhere, in a suddenly deafening quiet, your right hand is promptly and unexpectedly nudged.

Another piercing shriek fills the room as you wrench your eyes open and come face to face with a wall of silver and grey.

“FUCK!” you yelp, collapsing onto your backside but finding there’s nowhere to retreat to with your spine squashed up against the wall.

The SCP’s head is hovering before you, mere feet away, its yellow eyes almost crossing over one another to peer down at you, utterly still and disconcertingly silent.

‘Oh god. Oh god. Oh god….’ The words repeat in your head like a mantra, rapid-fire and frenetic.

But you don’t make a sound out loud.

Your mouth dangles open, not a breath nor a wheeze slipping in through your teeth as you wait, blood pounding in your ears. Somehow, even your body knows to be still. You’ve stopped shaking, too afraid for the adrenaline to control your muscles.

The instinct to play dead has taken over.

Through tear blurred eyes, you can see the SCP up close for the first time, the blank, white pupils floating in pools of gold, the charcoal skin sitting beneath the sockets of its visor, each nick and scrape zigzagging across the surface of its silver helm….

You let out a squeak when it pries its jaws apart and chuffs a hot breath over your face, catching the finer hairs at the side of your head and blowing them off your scalp. The air from its lungs smells acrid, and it burns your nose when you accidentally inhale.

It takes everything in you not to choke.

You wait for the bite. For the agony of those giant teeth sinking into your body and crushing you between them with a flex of its jaws. You wait, and wait, and wait, unheeding of the commotion occurring in the observation room. You only have eyes for the entity now, as though even taking the tiniest of glances away and breaking eye contact might spur it to attack.

Its horns, much like the bulls, jut forwards, each one a massive spear that hems you in on both sides, their tips nearly pressed to the wall to your left and right so that there’s truly nowhere to go.

"Please," you whisper, though it comes out wobbling, "Please, don't..."

A single blink is your only reply.

Then, as suddenly as it had crouched in front of you, the SCP - apparently satisfied with its impromptu inspection - lifts its great, silver head and stands up, moving away from you once more. Its leg stretches backwards, stepping deftly over the dark shape of -…

Oh…

Oh dear.

The bull lays dead on his front, hooves tucked up underneath his stomach. He had died collapsing forwards. And the only tell of what had killed him comes from a still smoking hole in the back of his skull. Murky eyes stare out at nothing and blood trickles in a steady stream from his nose, tongue lolling.

At first, your eyes dart over his entire body in search of wounds similar to those you saw on the D-Classes who died in here, but even with the fluorescent overheads lighting up every angle, you can’t pick out any other damage to his otherwise pristine pelt.

There’s only one wound.

One shot to the back of the head. Quick… Merciful.

Your eyes raise to the SCP’s gun arm and see that from one of the barrels, a dainty wisp of smoke is drifting steadily up towards the ceiling.

SCPs aren’t merciful.

What the Hell is this thing?

Peeling your bone-dry tongue off the roof of your mouth, you tilt your head back and gape up at the face of the entity towering above you. Its arm is reaching out for the bull, and you can do nothing but watch aghast as its clawed hand curls around the animal’s back legs and drags him back towards the opposite wall on the other end of the cell.

Slowly, methodically, it bends down onto its haunches and squares its stance over the bull, hissing at the Lab Coats behind their window like a lion guarding its kill. And like a lion, it doesn’t seem intent on letting the meat go to waste.

By the time the secondary door has begun to rise, you’ve scrunched your eyes shut again and slapped both hands over your ears to try and block out the sickening cacophony of snapping bones and the squeak of flesh being torn from muscle.

Staggering into the loading dock, you barely make it three steps inside before you collapse onto your knees, then your side, a wide-eyed, shivering mess of a human being.

Two guards have to haul you up by the arms, and without prompt, they drag you, crying hysterically, back to your cell.

#darksiders #scp #scp fandom #strife x reader #reader #D Class

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moon-buggg · 6 months ago

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SCP au drabble

set a week after YN gets taken to the facility, basic au info here

warnings: yn was kidnapped by an offbrand scp foundation after they didn't get killed by Moon and thats whats being discussed and im not sure how to tag that. Yn is a little emotionally dumb, flirty sun

no word count because I wrote this in the tumblr post maker in a frenzied haze

"You are stuck here... because of us?" Sun asks, carefully, tentatively. His, frankly, absurdly tall body hunches over so he can be at eye level. Under any other circumstances, you'd be terrified of the strange creature trying to comfort you. As is, his presence is incredibly comforting; the sole friendly face in a sea of questionable actors.

"I mean, pretty sure they expected Moon to kill me," Sun flinches just slightly, ears tilting ever so slightly back, "so I don't think I was ever meant to leave this stupid place, anyways."

You'd fallen asleep in the darkness of what you now know as Sun and Moon's room, and had awoken to several researchers and armed guards preparing you for a barrage of tests. Those first few days had been a horrible mess of exhausting tests and tedious interviews as your white-coated captors tried desperately to discover what made you different.

Why you'd survived.

They still hadn't found anything, but at least the tests seemed to be slowing down ever so slightly. After an uneventful introduction to the more passive, daytime version of the thing they expected to kill you, it was decided that you'd be allowed to visit him once every other day.

Jury seemed to still be out on if it was worth risking another encounter with Moon.

"It's not your fault," you add after a beat of silence, "or Moon's for that matter. You're both trapped here just as much as I am."

A soft, crooning sound rumbles out from Sun's chest as he slinks back into a seated position that leaves him still about a head taller than you. Gentle lights pulse across his fur, barely visible under the harsh fluorescent lights. He seems to struggle to find the right words, before giving up.

Carefully, as if approaching a startled animal, he reaches out a hand. When you don't react to the long claws coming at you, he continues. Turning over his hand to keep those sharp claws decisively away from you, he runs his knuckles over your head in a clear attempt at a comforting gesture.

It's startling how much it works.

"Oh starlight, far too kind for a place like this." His voice is soft and quiet in a way that makes your face feel warm. You choose not to think about it too hard. "You shouldn't be locked away."

"Neither should you." The words are harsh and automatic, and seem to startle Sun who draws back as if burnt. His glowing fur brightens significantly, its starting to get uncomfortable to look at, actually.

He recovers quickly.

"There you go," the words are teasingly chiding, "proving me right starlight." He reaches a long claw out again, this time using his knuckle to gently boop your nose.

He bends, using his long neck to crowd into your space. It's hard not to feel a little threatened by those big teeth so close to your face, and Sun's widening smile does little to help. Seems like you can't help but feel flustered today.

"At least you'll have me to keep you company." His voice is just a bit too hopeful, like he's desperate for you to agree. Poor guy seems utterly starved of positive affection. The urge to comfort him is hard to ignore, so you don't.

It's easy enough to thread your fingers into the long mane of fur that frames his face. The feeling is distracting, it's so warm...

Movement brings you back to the moment as Sun leans ever so slightly into your touch. Right, right, you had a reason for this.

"We're in this together," you say in what you hope is your most sturdy, comforting voice. Sun's presence has done a lot for you in the few days you've been here so far, and you want to do your best to be a comforting presence to him in return. You don't miss the way his fur seems to glow brighter and hotter at your words.

Acutely aware of where your hands are, you realize that grabbing a giant monsters face out of no where probably wasn't your best idea.

"Sorry!" you quickly release Sun's face, your own face hot with embarrassment, "Sorry! I shouldn't have just grabbed you like-"

"We didn't mind, starlight," he interrupts, pulling back out of your personal bubble. His hand ghost over where you touched, smoothing the fur back down, "no, don't mind at all."

#dca x reader #sun x reader #sun x y/n #dca x y/n #dca au #scp au #my writing

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boiledprawn99 · 2 months ago

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whatever. go my pressure oc

template by @glow-and-vamp ! thoughts under cut.

I didn;t know what codename to give him or what the wide image should be so uh. Half-Life 2 reference LOLLL. we all know mr lopee gives g-man vibes. "The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world." Whichever urbanshade employee gave him that codename is a massive nerd. anyway.

this is like... an au of my teamwork au.. basically he dies again after escaping the Blacksite and ends up back there. mr. lopee doesn't want to let him go free just yet. and urbanshade find him and they r PIIIIISSED OFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!! lol. but yeah, just wanted to indulge in an idea i had. i mean i might make this canon tbh i dont think an au where seb, painter and tommie all escape imprisonment is possible. someone's gotta pay the price.

and yea I know if you dig around on the urbanshade wiki hard enough it explains how exactly ur player character revives constantly but I like my headcanon better so THERE. my hc is inspired by an old scp fan animated series too... if yk, yk (i give u a kiss).

#im probably gonna make more fake documents in the future #i love documents YAYYY #my art #oc #oc reference #i guess?#roblox pressure #pressure roblox #pressure #pressure oc #pressure expendable #pressure fanart #pressure game #artists on tumblr #illustration #Roblox

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starryhologram · 9 months ago

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CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュージカル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cccc #cj soul #cj heart #cj mind #cccc band au #cccc au #cjverse chatroom #starryart #art #drawing #writing #cj whole #band au #trisov #LONG POST

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wolveria · 9 months ago

Text

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #001

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Dubious consent, sex pollen, oral sex, vaginal sex

AO3

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

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

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

That is what I tell myself.

--The [REDACTED] Wandsman of [REDACTED]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep within, something flickered to life.

“…Doctor Reid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the purpose of this drug?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“I’m sorry I’m sorryimsorry—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Assistant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That… that won’t be deep enough.”

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

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

“The bed would be more… comfortable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doctor Reid?”

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

“I’m… sorry,” she finally whimpered.

He frowned, or his version of it.

“I’m so… so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the raven's hymn #the anomaly archives #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 #scp fandom #wolveria writes

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mushyblushyredhead · 2 months ago

Text

TickleTober 2024 🎃

♡ Aug’s TKTober2024

DAY 18: Tickle Fight

“You Can Relax”—an SCP Foundation Story

♡ Also available on my FanFiction! (Autobot-Tiff)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It is late at night of the weekend Travis sought sanctuary at the SCP Foundation, but he is still anxious to go to sleep. It’s everyone’s favorite SCP, 999, to the rescue. Takes place in its own timeline at the Foundation, in an AU. This is a tickle fic, obviously. X3

TW: Mentions of past abuse.

Travis Blanche belongs to me!

Agent Simon Fisher belongs to my best friend who has allowed me to use their OC for this story. :3

A/N: Apologies if there’s any errors with the French words that are written throughout this story. Although I do not speak French (kinda wish I did) I did my absolute best translating some words and phrases so forgive me if they’re not all correct.

A rather eventful week had occurred for Dr. Travis Blanche and the batch of anomalous kids he had saved. In actuality, the last six months have been nothing but eventful, but not as much as the previous week that took place. So much had happened in the span of one week; teaming up with the SCP Foundation—a place he was told and believed was the enemy—to rescue a group of anomalous children he once took care of who were being physically altered and bid to be used as living weapons.

Despite the many setbacks and near casualties, in the end, Travis and the Foundation had successfully managed to rescue the kids and shut down the evil Foundation for good. Everyone who was a part of that operation were already taken into custody and being dealt with, courtesy of the Foundation. It seemed everything was going to be okay finally, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for someone in particular.

That night, one of the MTF squadron captains, Captain Simon Fisher, had been casually strolling down the hallways in the middle of his evening patrol, when he noticed light coming from one of the lounge rooms up ahead. That’s odd, he thought. Who could be up at this late hour?

Curious, he cautiously peeked inside the doorway and his eyes widened when he saw their newest Foundation member, Travis, was the one awake. He was sitting alone at the lounge table, listening to his Walkman, and clutching a mug of steaming tea with an exhausted and nervous look on his face.

How long has he been up like this? Simon wondered. Is he not happy to be here after everything that happened? He hoped not. After all the crazy things that everyone had been through, the SCP Foundation had graciously offered a permanent sanctuary for Travis and the children he helped save. Although Travis was skeptical about having the kids stay in containment chambers as SCPs, everyone assured him that the kids would all be treated with care, given proper housing and food, and would no way ever be abused like they were before. They even offered Travis a dorm room to stay in at the Foundation site so he could still be close to the kids and see them whenever he pleased.

That seemed to calm his overprotective nerves, but the young scientist still had trouble fully relaxing. It was obvious he was still traumatized after everything they went through. Despite being safe at the Foundation, Travis couldn’t put his overthinking mind to rest. What if the evil Foundation wasn’t defeated entirely? What if they still had another secret base somewhere that they didn’t know about? What if they had more anomalous children hidden underground? What if they would eventually find out where he was?!

Travis clutched his mug tighter, shaking his head. He just couldn’t shake off the fear. He knew from his previous time with these people that they had such volatility. He often compared them to the Galactic Empire from Star Wars; that evil foundation was able to bounce back from scratch like the second Death Star being built. He worried for himself, the kids especially. He would never want to break his promise and put them in any sort of danger again.

In an attempt to calm his anxious mind, Travis tried making himself some maple tea while listening to his Walkman. It was usually a good remedy whenever he couldn’t sleep, except tonight it didn’t seem to be working. He kept taking sips of the hot liquid, but couldn’t taste a thing. His mind just could not stop racing.

Agent Fisher could not bear to watch the poor scientist like this. It was so heartbreaking to witness. Travis deserved a break, just like those kids deserved a proper home and childhood. But even here, in the safety of the SCP Foundation site, he was still scared. And the officer couldn’t blame him. The poor guy probably thought the evil foundation was going to jump through the walls at any moment and harm him. After suffering in that cruel environment for so long, who wouldn’t still be scarred?

But at the same time, everyone hoped that Travis could learn to relax a little at the site now that he was safe. The kids has already settled in their new rooms just fine, happy to call the SCP Foundation their new home. If only Travis felt like doing the same same…

Not wanting the poor sleep deprived scientist to suffer any longer, Simon walked into the lounge room and waved to get Blanche’s attention. Travis jumped, startled, but his body relaxed when he saw a familiar face. Pulling off his headphones, Travis forced a smile on his face. “Oh, good evening, Captain Fisher, sir.”

“Hm, good morning is more like it,” Simon stated back, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “It’s 3:30 in the morning. Why are you still up?”

“Why are you up?” Travis countered back.

Simon quirked a brow. “Because I’m in the middle of my night shift,” he replied as-a-matter-of-factly. “But seriously, is something wrong, Dr. Blanche? I thought you had retired to bed along with the kids hours ago.”

Travis weakly chuckled. “First of all, no need to address me as Doctor all the time. Just Travis is fine.” Simon nodded understandingly. “Second,” Travis shrugged with a sigh. “Can’t sleep, I guess. I…guess I am still shaken up after everything that happened recently. I still have nightmares; nightmares of…them. Of what they d-did to me…to the kids..!” He heaved a shaky sigh. “I don’t know, I just—can’t seem to erase that from my mind. A part of me is still afraid that they’re still out there, waiting to come after m-me and the kids..!”

Travis quickly turned his head away as tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. He cursed himself for getting so emotional so quickly. He hated crying in front of others. But Simon didn’t mind. He rested a delicate hand on the scientist’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. Travis turned around, meeting Agent Fisher’s warm eyes.

His smile was comforting and his voice was gentle. “Hey, I get what you’re going through. I really do. None of us here are expecting you, nor the kids, to get over what happened to you all so quickly. That’s traumatizing, and that’s not something you can simply get over overnight.” He squeezed Blanche’s shoulder once more. “But, know this: you do not have to carry this burden alone like you did before. You’re safe here, and you know we would never let anything happen to you guys. You’ve got to believe that.”

Travis nodded softly. “I know. I know you all mean well, and I am so very grateful for you all to let us stay here…even after everything before…”

“Hey, what’s past is past, kid. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Thank you. I…just wish I could stop having these nightmares. These people are defeated and yet it still seems like they torment me.” Travis groaned and rested his head against the table. “That’s why I’ve been listening to my music and drinking some maple tea. It’s usually a good remedy when I have trouble getting to sleep, but tonight it’s not as effective.” He sighed miserably. “I suppose I just won’t sleep tonight. But that’s alright…I’m sure I can busy myself for the remainder of the night by working on one of my unfinished projects. Maybe that will tire me out.”

Simon couldn’t believe what he just heard. Travis was really willing to work himself to exhaustion because of his nightmares? He pitied for the poor scientist. But what else could he do? His words didn’t seem to help.

And then suddenly, it clicked. “SCP-999!” He suddenly blurted his thought out loud.

“Huh?” Travis tilted his head.

Simon cleared his throat. “I meant to ask this earlier, but…have you had the chance to interact with SCP-999 yet? Or at least read its file?”

“Actually, no. I assumed since I am new here, I don't get to read any of the files you have for these SCPs like library books."

The agent chuckled. “Yes, well, there’s certain files that are classified for good reasons. But there’s files that newbies like you can read, like SCP-999’s file, for example.” He paused. “Funnily enough, the kids got to interact with 999 the other day and they loved it! They even requested another session with 999 as soon as possible,” he added, as if he thought that would convince Dr. Blanche.

Travis’ heterochromatic eyes lit up, intrigued. “Oh, really now? I’m assuming it’s a safe anomaly then?”

Simon nodded. “Oh, of course. One of the safest and harmless anomalies on this site. In fact, 999 is more than just a safe class anomaly. It’s actually therapeutic; simply touching 999 can bring immediate euphoria that intensifies the longer you are exposed to it. Heck, the euphoria lasts long after separation from the anomaly. Everyone here, myself included, has had at least one encounter with SCP-999, and it’s helped us all greatly when we were struggling mentally. I really think you would benefit from one visit with 999.”

Travis seemed hesitant and unsure. “Uhh…well…I-I’m not sure.”

Simon gave him an encouraging smile. “C’mon Travis. I really think this would do you good. SCP-999 loves all people, but has a special interest in those who are hurt, depressed, or suffering from PTSD. It’s no wonder why it wanted to interact with the kiddos immediately when they arrived here. And I know it will want to interact with you, too. Let 999 help you, Travis…Just this once? If you like it, you like it. And if you don’t, that’s okay, too. Although I find it damn impossible that anyone would be able to say they disliked their encounter with 999.” He chuckled again. “What do ya say?”

Travis gave in with a sigh. “Oh, all right. Just hurry up before I change my mind.” Simon nodded, taking Blanche by the hand and leading him out into the hallway.

A therapeutic anomaly that seems to cure depression and trauma? Well, I’m not at the evil foundation anymore, Travis joked to himself. If the kids enjoyed their encounter with this SCP-999 then maybe I will, too? Fisher would never lie to me. Could this anomaly really help me with my nightmares and PTSD? I guess we’ll see. *sigh* Whatever, just get this over with quickly. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Here we are.” Simon’s voice abruptly snapped Travis out of his thoughts. They had arrived at SCP-999’s containment chamber. While the agent stepped aside to quietly have a word with the security officers and another researcher over comm. link, (no doubt requesting permission to allow him to see 999 at this hour) Travis suddenly grew nervous.

Despite being told that 999 was a safe class anomaly, the thought of meeting an entirely new anomaly that he knew nothing about was enough to make him anxious. Normally, he liked to know at least a little bit of background of an anomaly before he charged headfirst into interacting with it. Now he was really starting to regret not taking the time to read more on 999’s file before coming here. But he had nothing to worry about, right? If the kids said that they had fun with this creature, then he would trust their judgement.

He was snapped out of his thoughts again when Simon handed him a top tab office folder. “What’s this?”

Simon smiled apologetically. “The entire information file for SCP-999. I should have given this to you first so you could read it over. But you can still read it when you’re inside 999’s chambers. Y’know, learn along the way.” He winked, smiling.

Travis blinked. He could have sworn he detected something sinister in Fisher’s tone when he said that. Like he knew something that he didn’t yet. Did he set him up?

“Well, go ahead,” Simon urged. “Go cure that trauma. We’ll be right outside monitoring everything in case you need us, but you’ll be fine.” He and the other security guards seemed to be stifling back laughs. Travis frowned. They were definitely setting him up for something. Why couldn’t they just tell him what it was already? After spending so much time at the previous evil foundation, he grew to hate surprises. Even good ones because in the end, they never turned out to be good.

As Travis stepped through the doorway, Simon quickly added, “Oh, and don’t forget to read that file! Better read it quick!”

Travis shot him an incredulous look, but opened the file nonetheless. Alright let’s see…Item #: SCP-999. Object Class: Safe…Special Containment Procedures…yada yada…File Name…wait WHAT?! The Canadian scientist’s heart skipped several beats. File Name: The Tickle Monster.

He quickly spun around, locking eyes with Agent Fisher, who merely just waved with a smile that said “sorry not sorry” before shutting the door.

This was a setup! He had been duped! Bamboozled! “Fisher!” Travis growled, banging on the door. “You set me up! You…You mother-honking HOSER!”

Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. This…This has gotta be some kind of blizzard joke, right?

Travis didn’t know why, but something about reading that file name quickened his pulse and made anticipatory butterflies fill his belly. Something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He was flustered.

His train of thought was interrupted when the sound of high-pitched gurgling sounded behind him. He whipped around, his blue and green eyes widening at what was in front of him: a large, gelatinous blob of orange slime with big black orbs for eyes that seemed to shimmer like puppy eyes. Travis didn’t know what to think. This was supposed to be the site’s so-called “Tickle Monster”? It certainly didn’t look like anything he had pictured. But he knew from experience that looks can be deceiving; something so innocent-looking could be extremely dangerous.

“Um…h-hello there,” Travis shyly waved to the anomaly. The creature happily chirped, and slithered towards the young scientist. Travis gasped and backed away until his back hit the wall. SCP-999 emitted a confused gurgle and stopped in its tracks. It suddenly seemed concerned from Travis’ reaction.

Taken back, Travis tilted his head and was surprised when the orange creature mimicked his movement. Curious, he tilted his head to the other side, and it copied his movement. Travis blinked twice, and 999 also blinked twice. Feeling a little more relaxed, Travis knelt down to its eye level. “Huh. Well, you’re quite the precocious little anomaly, aren’t you?” 999 let out a happy coo. “You know, I’ve never encountered an anomaly like you before. I was actually told by Agent Fisher that you could help me with my recent nightmares and PTSD?” 999 perked up, bobbing its gelatinous dome head up and down like jello. “I take that as a yes then? So—oh?”

999 slithered closer to the scientist, extending a pair of orange pseudopods and wrapping them around his neck. Emitting cooing and purring noises, the anomaly leaned close to nuzzle against the young man’s chest. Immediately, Travis was hit with a wave of mild euphoria, just like Fisher had said. But that was not all. Travis also detected something on 999’s gelatinous surface; there was a pleasant odor. It smelled like…fresh pine trees from the forests of his hometown in Canada. Along with the scent of freshly baked chocolate cake from Tim Horton’s, his favorite dessert.

Travis felt like crying, but they were happy tears. All this comfort and nostalgic scents this anomaly was giving him was unlike anything he ever felt before. He let out a shaky sigh, allowing his body to fully relax and melt against the warm embrace. 999 simply took that as its cue to continue nuzzling Travis like a kitten, all the while continuing to purr and coo lovingly.

It wasn’t until he felt 999’s orange tendrils suddenly tighten around his torso that he started to feel nervous. “Sacré bleu!” He exclaimed. “I uh, heh, almost forgot the other thing that makes you so infamous here…Now I’m starting to see why Agent Fisher set me up with this little…play date,” he muttered that last part under his breath.

999 simply chirped and glomped the scientist, ready to engage in one of its favorite activities it was best known for: tickle wrestling. Travis, already anticipating the oncoming attack, let anticipatory fear get the best of him and managed to wriggle out of the creature’s near death grip. Giggling breathily, he stood up on shaky knees to try and escape. Except there was nowhere else to go. He was trapped in a containment chamber with a very playful anomaly that look like it wanted to tickle the ever living daylights out of him.

With a wobbly smile already visible on his face, Travis shakily tried to make a run for it. 999 excitedly chirped, thinking Travis wanted to play chase! It gurgled enthusiastically, beginning to chase after the flustered scientist who, in return, bolted away.

Outside the containment chamber, Agent Fisher and the other security officers were laughing at the cartoon spectacle from their security tablets: Dr. Blanche running laps around the room while SCP-999 followed close behind, trying to grab him with his pseudopods.

“Oh mon dieu! Mon dieu! N-No! Don’t! Don’t you dare!” Travis exclaimed behind him. He heard the creature emit a series of chirps, but he could’ve sworn it sounded like it was taunting him; laughing at him.

He suddenly heard Simon‘s voice from the overhead speakers. “C’mon, Blanche! We brought you here to interact with 999, not to run away from it!”

“Firstly, you never said anything about this anomaly being a Tickle Monster!” Travis shot back as he did another lap around the room. “And second! I am not letting said monster…well…tickle me..!”

“And why not? You wouldn’t happen to be…ticklish, would you~?”

The blush on Travis’s face said it all, yet he still denied it. “N-No..! I’m not!”

“Then quit trying to escape if you’re not ticklish.”

Ohhh how Travis so desperately wanted to make Agent Fisher eat those words. He knew he couldn’t keep running in circles forever; he was already sleep deprived and was losing strength in his knees. Cursed his flustered state. It’s not that he didn’t want to be tickled, he didn’t know if he was ticklish in the first place. Up to this point in his life, he couldn’t recall a time where he had ever been tickled. And now, getting a chance to experience it for the first time, he was trying to avoid it. But yet at the same time, he secretly wanted it to happen. He wanted to experience that silly, uncontrollable feeling that he recalled reading about during his early days of becoming a doctor. Unfortunately, his fight-or-flight instincts got the best of him.

He didn’t have time to debate it any further because he yelped in surprise when something suddenly wrapped around his ankle, tripping him. Whipping his head around, he saw 999 had one orange tendril wrapped around his ankle like a lasso. It chirped and tittered as if to say, “got you!”, and proceeded to envelope its victim’s boot and calf into its gelatinous body.

Travis yelped again in alarm at the feeling of feeling his lower leg being swallowed by this orange slime anomaly. He grimaced. This creature wasn’t seriously planning on eating him instead, was it? His question was immediately answered when his knee was engulfed in the slime trap next. Instead of feeling a row of hidden razor, sharp teeth tear into his flesh, he felt something entirely different; as soon as the orange slime touched his knee, Travis felt a fluttery almost feather-like feeling, followed by a growing bubbling sensation in the pit of his stomach. The urge to laugh.

Qu’est-ce que c’est?! Is this really what being tickled feels like?

Reflexively, Travis began kicking out his trapped leg, trying to free it. Except he couldn’t. He was taken back at how strong 999’s grip was. No matter how much he twisted and yanked and pulled on his leg, he couldn’t break free. 999 simply cooed a response, no doubt teasing about how he wasn’t going anywhere.

Kicking his way out wasn’t going to work. In fact, it only seemed to make the situation worse because the fluttery feeling around his knee simply increased. It spread behind his knee and even squeezed around his knee joint, making him reflexively kick out his other leg that was free. He was worried at first if all his uncontrollable kicking would hurt the anomaly; he didn’t want to accidentally kick 999 in its eye or mouth and hurt it. Fortunately, his kicks didn’t seem to harm the anomaly in any way. Its orange slimy surface seemed to absorb any blows it received, seeming to be indestructible.

Travis stubbornly clapped a hand over his mouth, refusing to crack. Blush was already starting to reach the tips of his ears. Could this get any worse?

Apparently, it could.

999 right away noticed the stubborn scientist trying to muffle his laughs as well as his fruitless attempts at trying to escape on his one free leg. So it simply caught his other flailing leg in its slime, swallowing it, too. It wasted no time and began tickling behind and around the scientist’s knees.

Travis couldn’t hold it back any longer. Having his other leg held into place and subjected to the same tickly feeling behind his knee ultimately made him crack.

“Kkthpbblt..! …MmHHHmhmhEEAAAhehahaha! W-Wahahait! Nohohoho!”

“Well, that certainly didn’t take as long as I thought,” Simon’s voice cut in over the speakers again. “I thought it would take longer for you to crack around SCP-999, but it looks like it doesn’t take more than a minute. Good to know!”

“Ohoho shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Travis pressed through giggles. He hated to admit it, but he was really hoping he would be able to outlast 999’s playful attack. This just proved he really was a super ticklish person. He just hoped the kids would never find out about this…

999, pleased that its victims was finally laughing, decided to continue and increase the ticklish feeling. Still keeping the scientist’s legs in place, it suddenly leapt on top of him, tickling all over his torso with its tendrils.

Travis let out a rather girly shriek as he felt a weight suddenly on top of him. But that quickly switched to loud, bright laughter when he felt his entire torso being scribbled and poked erratically. There were tendrils squeezing and poking his sides, vibrating against his rib cage, tracing across his stomach, and even trying to slip under his arms. And all the while, his lab coat and purple dress shirt did nothing to protect his sensitive skin.

“WaHAAAHAHAIT! AAAH! HehehAAAHAHAHA! N-Nohoho! AAAAH! EEEHEHEHEEHEE! S-StAAAHAHAHAP! WHAAAA! Mon dieu! OH MON DIEU! OH MON DIEU! D-Don’t you dahahahare!”

Travis frantically batted at 999’s dome head as he felt sneaky tendrils trying to untuck and unbutton his purple dress shirt. Ignoring his panicked request, 999 swiftly yanked up his shirt, undid the buttons, and pushed the fabric aside to expose the pale belly underneath.

999 immediately buried its face against the warm surface, nuzzling and nipping and extending two more tendrils to furiously dig under the doctor’s arms.

“NonononAAAAAAHAHAHAHAO!! ARRÊTER! ARRÊTER! A-ARRÊHEEHEEHEETER!! NAAAAHEEEEHEEHEEHEE!! NAHAHAHAO PLEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEASE!!”

Travis screeched and squealed, trying to twist away from this evil tickle attack but it was no use. 999’s grip was like a boa constrictor’s. And it made sure he couldn’t escape because any attempt he made, resulted in the creature mercilessly tickling another bad spot he didn’t know about.

The tickly nibbles on his belly made him want to reflexively curl and protect that spot, but the second he tried to curl inward or on his side, 999 immediately dug and vibrated against his spine, forcing him to uncurl once again.

“EEEEHEEHEHEEEEEK!! STAAAAHEEHEEHEE!! S’il vous plaît! StAAHAhap doihihing thahahat!” Travis giggle-whined as 999 made him uncurl again. “Thahahat’s soho nohohot fahahahair!”

999 simply tittered at his response, clearly enjoying the playful suffering it was putting the young scientist through. But it wanted to hear more of his sweet, childlike laughter.

So it inched its face higher so it could bury its face against his neck. Travis let out another high-pitched squeal when the side of his neck was attacked with tickly nibbles. Even 999 simply purring against his neck tickled just as bad.

“EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEEEEK!! NAAAAHEEHEHEEHEE!! NOHOHO PLEAHEHEEHEEHEASE!!”

He tried scrunching up his shoulder to protect his sensitive neck, but that in turn made 999 nibble at the other side of his neck.

Travis gave up trying to protect his neck, settling for trying to guard his torso and underarms instead. The scientist tried to clamp his arms down while attempting to button his shirt back up. Or at least try to get it to cover his stomach once more.

But 999 noticed his attempts, and released his neck, diving back to tickle his belly again.

“Wait! WAHAHAHAIT! NON! NOHOHON! NAHAHAT AGAAAHAHAHAIN! S’il vous plaît! S’IL VOUS PLAÎT! Go bAHAHACK to my neheheheck again!”

But 999 didn’t listen. It came to the conclusion that this was clearly a bad spot for Travis, and that just encouraged it to stay here!

The poor flustered doctor frantically batted at 999’s head like an angry kitten, trying to get it anywhere else but his stomach. This couldn’t possibly get any worse, could it?

One sneaky stray tendril brushing over his navel did it. Travis screeched and accidentally sucked in a breath too quick, he snorted. Even 999 paused its tickly assault to gurgle curiously and tilt its head like a confused puppy.

Blush consumed Travis’ entire face as he hid behind his hands, clearly embarrassed at the weird sound he just emitted. He never even knew could make such silly sounds like that.

Intrigued, 999 lightly brushed over the scientist’s bellybutton. Travis jolted like he had been electrocuted, emitting another muffled snort behind his hands. He frantically shook his head and babbled incoherently as he felt 999’s tendrils peel his hands away from his face, pinning them up next to his head.

“Nonononononono! Oh mon dieu! Oh mon dieu! N-No! Don’t..! Don’t you dare! Don’t! You! Dare!”

999 cheekily tittered, bringing the single tendril back to softly trace circles around his tummy, slowly inching towards his bellybutton.

“Oh MON DIEU! NahaHAHAHAO!” Travis panicked as the tendril traced agonizing circles around the little spot, his tummy quivering madly. His stomach was tingling with so much anticipation; it felt like he just ate a swarm of live butterflies.

Travis tried curling up on his side and sucking in his stomach as much as he could to avoid that evil tendril, but his efforts were useless. 999 simply grabbed onto his hips, and straightened him back onto his back.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! Je t’en prie! NO! D-Don’t..!” Travis screamed like if he was being murdered before laughing his hardest as 999’s tendril plunged into his bellybutton and wiggled rapidly. “AAAAAAAHEHEHAAAAAAHAHAAAA!! OH MOHOHON DIEU!! *snort* NAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAO!! STAAAAAA—*snort*—HAHAHAHAHAAAAAP!! NAAAHEEHEEHEEHEEAAAHAHAHA!!”

Ohhh how Travis hated all the involuntary snorts he kept emitting between hysterics. He wished he could stop, but these accursed snorts were like a dam; once broken, there’s no stopping it. The poor doctor’s entire face was the color of a cherry tomato. His glasses were askew on his face from how much he was whipping his head from side to side. Tears were already threatening to spill from his tightly shut eyes. He was sure his sides were going to split any moment. But yet, despite all that, Travis was actually having fun. He was enjoying it.

He never recalled a time before this when he had genuinely laughed so hard. Well, maybe except that one time where he encountered his first cryptid, but did that really count? It was too short and too quick to even count it as a true experience. Here, being at the playful mercy of SCP-999, it felt different. Intense euphoria rushed through his entire body like adrenaline. In that moment, he couldn’t think of anything else but the ticklish torment. No fear, no nightmares, no trauma, no memories of his dark past, no sadness. Just pure joy. And, of course, the unbearable tickly assault on his navel. So embarrassing…

999 was very pleased that it was able to make Dr. Blanche make that funny, adorable snorting sound. It made him sound like a little piggy! Which 999 just couldn’t seem to get enough of. But it knew it had to stop soon. So, to finish it off, 999 engulfed Travis’ entire torso in its slime, vigorously vibrating its surface; the equivalent of giving multiple big raspberries.

Travis just about died. To him, his entire torso was being assaulted from all angles by these evil raspberries. His sides, his ribs, just right below his underarms, his upper and lower stomach, his waistline, and his bellybutton all at once.

His laughter went silent for a moment before he snorted rather loudly, and laughed his absolute hardest. “…AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHEEHEHAHAHAAAAAA!! NAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!! *snort* NOHOHON!! NOHON S’IHIHIL VOUS PLAAAAA—HAHAHA—PLAIT!! *snort* STAAAAAAHAHAHAAAA!! *snort* NINE NIHIHINE NIIIIIHIHINE!! PLEEEEEAAHEEHEE—*snort* JE T’EN PRIE—HEEHEEHEEHEEEEEE!! I-I CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT ANYMORE!! *snort* JE T’EN PRIE!! JE T-TAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!! JE T’EN PRIE!! *snort* PLEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEASE!! STAAAAAHAHAHAHAP!! NOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!!”

Hearing the desperate cry and feeling Ike he had had enough, 999 finally released Dr. Blanche. It sat next to him, quietly gurgling while waiting patiently for Travis to recover. Travis laid there motionless on the floor for several long minutes, panting heavily. His hair was a mess and his glasses were crooked on his forehead. He just wanted to get the air back into his lungs. 999 nudged and softly cooed at the scientist. It seemed like it wanted to check and see if he was okay.

Travis slowly sat up, clutching his sore stomach. He fixed his glasses before meeting 999’s concerned gaze, giving it a warm smile. “Hey, don’t feel bad. You stopped right when I needed you to. It’s all good, okay? I actually feel a lot more better now thanks to you, 999.” 999 chirped happily, glomping the doctor in another tackle hug.

“Aaah! Sacré bleu! Non! Don’t go starting this whole little chaotic game of yours again!” Travis nervously joked. As fun as that whole tickle game was, he didn’t want to be the victim of another one again. At least, not right now.

999 tittered and slid down to cuddle in the scientist’s lap, purring like a cat. Travis chuckled and began buttoning his now wrinkled shirt back up. When that was done, he rested a delicate hand on top of 999’s head, who purred louder. Then, just to be cheeky once more, 999 tittered like a gremlin and shoved its head underneath the purple shirt. Travis let out a surprise squeal at the feeling of a purring mouth pressing threateningly against his bellybutton again. “N-NAAAhahao! Pleaheeheehease nohohot again! Misericorde! Misericorde!”

Fortunately, 999 took pity on the poor tired scientist and slithered out of his shirt. Travis let out a huge sigh of relief. He had to admit, despite being tickle tortured for what felt like an eternity, he was feeling a lot happier than he had ever been in a long time. It felt like the biggest weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he could breathe again. His mind didn’t feel so foggy with nightmares or visions of his past anymore. In fact, he couldn’t even recall his nightmares or any other negative thoughts. He felt genuine euphoria and this mild feeling of optimism; that same optimism that any happy kid would have, like he was sure everything was going to be okay from now on.

“Thank you, 999,” Travis whispered to the anomaly. “I mean it. You really helped me with something I never thought I would be able to let go. Thank you for that.” 999 beamed and happily gurgled as if to say “you’re welcome”.

After all that laughing and screeching and squirming, and being sleep deprived, Travis’ remaining strength and energy had been sapped up. He couldn’t stifle back the big yawns. He longed for the comfort of his bed, but was far too tired to even get up. Even his eyelids were starting to droop.

999 noticed how visibly exhausted the scientist looked so it carefully lifted and cradled him, carrying him to the door.

“Annnd that’s our cue that Dr. Blanche’s ‘play date’ with 999 has finally ended,” Simon stated, nodding to the personnel to fetch their sleepy victim.

“Okay, 999, hand him over. We’ll take it from here,” one of the guards spoke.

999 emitted a little whine and hugged Travis closer. Simon chuckled, knowing that reaction far too well. “Don’t worry, 999. You’ll get your chance to play with Blanche again another time, okay? Right now, he really needs to get some sleep.” 999 cooed understandingly and released the doctor.

Simon helped Travis stand up, and assisted him back to his dorm room. He had to bite back another laugh because he honestly felt like he was lugging a drunk friend back home. “So…didn’t I tell you this would be a great experience? Learn on the job, eh?” Simon joked.

Travis rolled his eyes, blush coating his cheeks again. “Oh, shut up, ya hoser! You’re a filthy, lying…dip twit!” He tried to sound mean, but the smile on his face proved otherwise.

“Aw, c’mooon! No ‘thank you, Fisher, for making me experience my first meeting with the Tickle Monster?’”

Travis sputtered and blushed harder. “Stohohop saying that!”

Simon couldn’t help but tease. “Why? Is it the Tickle Mosnter part that gets you flustered or just hearing the word tickle?”

Travis giggle-whined, burying his face against the older agent’s shoulder. “Staaaaahahahap! Just…stohohop sahahaying thaaaat!”

“Haha! I knew it!” Simon laughed. “It does fluster you! You just seem too adorable to be a researcher here.” He ruffled the younger scientist’s hair.

Travis giggled and batted at the other’s hand before muttering something in French that sounded like cuss words.

“Hey, hey, hey, watch the language,” Simon half-joked. “Or else I’ll throw you back into 999’s chambers and keep you there until tomorrow.” He poked him in the side. “Got that?”

Travis yelped and giggled once more. “Understood.”

“Good. Alright, well get some sleep, okay? We’ll be here for you tomorrow when you wake up, but no rush in getting up early. Sleep in if you’d like. You and the kids are going to need to fix that awful sleep schedule of yours, and it starts with getting proper rest.” Simon smiled and gave Blanche one last hair ruffle. “Sleep tight, kid.”

Travis sleepily smiled. “Thank you, sir. Good night to you as well. And…thank you…for everything. I never would have gotten through this without you and 999’s help.” He paused with a shy smile. “Especially 999’s.”

“Anytime, kid. Good night.”

“Good night.” Travis let out a happy sigh as soon as he closed his dorm door. “Wow…what a night!” He said to himself. “But at least I don’t have to worry about any nightmares anymore. Hopefully. And if not, then I’m sure I can go to 999 again…right? Oh mon dieu, whyyyy am I actually thinking about going back and willingly allowing 999 to…torture me again?! Geez! Now I’m getting all fluttery thinking about it!”

That fluttery butterfly feeling in his stomach came back at the mere thought of getting tickled by 999 again. He blushed when he remembered how Simon set him up with 999 earlier. Then his blush darkened when he realized that Simon and the other guards now knew of his silly weakness from watching him on the security footage. And all of the embarrassing sounds he could make when tickled in certain spots. Ohhh so embarrassing!

Travis just hoped that Simon and the others would keep their mouths shut and not mention this to anyone, especially to the kids. They didn’t need to know about this. If anyone found out, he would never live it down.

Shaking the thought off, Travis changed out of his work clothes. He slipped on a baggy black shirt that read: Area 51 Escapee in bright green lettering, and a pair of light gray pajama pants with UFOs on them. Then, he tossed his worn clothes into a heap by his bed before crawling into bed. He snuggled under the covers with a happy sigh.

Things were definitely going to be different from now on with him and the kids now joining the SCP Foundation family. But they were in a better place now, and they were free. They could finally be happy and together like the found family they always wanted to be. Granted, they were a very strange, albeit dangerous-looking family, but they were a family regardless.

Travis closed his eyes with a smile, dreaming about what games he was going to play with the kids tomorrow as soon as they all woke up.

THE END

#mushy writes stuff #my fic #tickle fic #sfw tickle fic #tickletober2024 #augtickletober2024 #scp foundation tickle #scp 999 #lee!oc #lee!travis #ler!999 #scp au #scp oc #travis blanche #tickle fight #tickle monster #oc tickles #sfw tickles #sfw tickling community

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thedovesaredying · 5 months ago

Text

Reverse Fae AU | Fae!Reader x Nikto

Once again I have been tempted into the fae wilds again by the dear @ghouljams and have another piece for your enjoyment! No smut just yet, but it'll be in the next part I post. This fic is just a bit of a "how reader gets her man" explaination.

Putting Nikto through The Horrors TM. because if no one else will then I guess it has to be me.

Y'all might be able to tell SCP-1128 is one of my faves, so I drew a bit of inspiration from there. Unedited as always baby!

Previous | Next

He’s made a mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake.

A voice hums so softly from the bathroom, echoes bouncing against the tiles to create a strange, hypnotic symphony. The sound is so gentle, luring his body into a false sense of security, muscles growing lax despite the thundering of his heart against his chest. His brain is confused, knowing there’s something wrong, but unable to feel the fear he should be trembling with.

It calls his name in a saccharine tone, dripping with false sweetness. Not even Nikto, but his real name, the one he’s hidden for so long. Despite covering his ears and gritting his teeth against the sound, he can still hear it deep within his mind. He can almost feel the way fingers comb through his thoughts, plucking at his already frail restraint.

“Отвяжись!” He snaps, nails digging into his own scalp as if he could tear the creature’s influence from his brain with his own two hands.

“Just open the door,” that damn voice coos, undercut by the sound of claws dragging down the edge of the doorframe. “You called me here, silly human,” the little giggle it makes causes his stomach to flip and a fluttering sensation to develop rather rapidly, “why are you hiding from me?”

He wants to snarl back that it was a mistake, but you’ve started humming that strange song again, and his entire body has begun to feel as if it’s weighed down by lead. The only sound he can make is a rather pathetic groan, his eyes drooping with a sudden wave of exhaustion.

He never should have accepted that “gift” from a fae, his babushka would absolutely have his head if she were still around. She’d told him tales, as all grandmothers tend to do, many of them revolving around the trickery and cruelty of the fae. They never do something or give something without expecting something in return.

It had given him the little vial of water, pressing it into his gloved hands with a grin still dripping blood stolen from the body of one of his allies. “Keep it,” the monster whispers, tickling his ears with her breath despite the many layers of clothing between them, “keep it on your body, at all times.” Her fingers, tipped with dangerously sharp nails gently trail down the front of his body armour, voice purring in a way that sends shivers down his spine.

He knew better than to refuse, lest it be considered a slight against the creature, and took the little glass jar of water, tucking it into his shirt and watching as the fae disappears back into the lake with a satisfied grin.

The first time his little gift was used was entirely by accident. A simple infiltration mission where Nikto and his fellow KorTac operators were supposed to be gathering intel before returning to exfil.

Perhaps it’s because of how simple the mission had been that caused him to grow sloppy. His mind was elsewhere, and that was something the enemy seemed to have noticed and were quick to capitalise on. He would be a little embarrassed if it weren’t for how the rest of the scenario had played out.

A young enemy soldier – a child really, too young to have more than a few patchy hairs growing on his face – he’d been cocky enough (or perhaps desperate enough) to think he could get the jump on him. A shame, as the boy might have had potential had he not made the mistake of trying to fight the wrong mercenary.

When he turns a blind corner, the boy was ready for him, choosing to lunge forward, combat knife poised to strike at the Russian’s throat. Nikto is fast enough to deflect the blade with the armoured back of his arm but is forced to release his grip on his rifle in order to do so.

A kick to the enemy’s stomach has the boy stumbling backward, but before Nikto can continue, a second opponent joins the scuffle. The other man tries to tackle him, but it only opens them up to the headlock Nikto grapples them into.

A rough jerk of his own knife against the enemy’s throat has arteries and veins shredding under his hand and a spray of blood bursting forth in all directions. He throws the flailing body to the floor, ignoring the way the man weakly grasps at his throat, a pool of crimson growing with every passing moment.

The younger soldier reaches for him again, ignoring their fallen comrade as they try again to reach for Nikto with one hand and swipe at him with their other one. He dodges the slash once again but isn’t fast enough to evade the man completely. The boy’s fingers wrap around the thin twine keeping the tiny jar of water around his neck.

The fabric is thin enough that his backward momentum easily snaps it, the vial falling away the moment the enemy tosses it aside. It smashes into the ground, thin glass splintering apart and the clear liquid inside dripping into the large pool of blood.

He’s upset, if only because it’s the only proof he has of the strange encounter several months ago. No one would ever believe him if he spoke of it and on some days, he too doubts his own memories. Yet there lay the proof, proof that he’d somehow managed to please the fae creature enough for it to offer him a gift in return.

Wish a snarl, he lands a devastating kick to the boy’s stomach, sending the lad stumbling backwards. As he steps back to create more rooms for himself, he’s cautious to move around the bloody puddle. Though his eyes remain trained on the boy – now righting himself and refilling his lungs with the air that Nikto’s strike had stolen from him – he can’t help but to glance at the blood.

His eyes are drawn to it like magnets, his hair standing on end as something sends a shiver down his spine. Darkness seems to swirl within the ruby pool, deepening its colour until it’s almost black. Looking away from it feels as foolish as turning his back to a wild animal, but he must keep focus on the more present danger. His curiosities can be indulged later.

The boy has his dagger raised and poised to strike at the first sign of weakness, taking a single step closer. His foot meets the puddle and, before he even has the chance to so much as scream, his body is falling as though the floor below him has suddenly vanished. The soldier’s arms grab at the ground next to the blood, only just stopping him from being completely submerged.

He watches the boy splutter, arms flailing and water sloshing all over the floor. The larger the puddle grows from his rapid movements, the more the floor seems to disappear. The other soldier struggles to stay afloat, rapidly losing more ground the more he battles against the seemingly never-ending liquid.

Nikto watches, unable to do much more than openly stare, the other man is suddenly torn from above the water. The soldier can only let out the beginnings of a scream, but it’s immediately muffled by the sound of the water splashing in his wake. It disturbs the corpse of the other deceased soldier, and he watches as it too slips below the surface.

With the other soldier no longer disturbing the pool’s surface, the puddle has finally stopped its terrifying expansion. But he doesn’t have the time to relax, as a large fin cuts through the water, reminiscent of a shark’s dorsal fin in the way it so seamlessly glides along without causing so much as a ripple.

A soft song floats up from the abyss, alien and terrifying, yet somehow one of the most alluring sounds he’s ever heard. There’s an urge that builds within him, a desperate need to get closer to the water. He can’t help it, almost as though his body is moving while his mind is somewhere else.

He hears rather than feels it when he falls to his knees, reaching out and dipping his hands into the pool. There’s a voice somewhere in the back of his head screaming, brain trying to trigger every fight or flight response in the hopes of something getting through to his body that seems to have gone rogue.

His arms don’t stop, even as his gloves begin to fill with water, not until he feels something brush against the tips of his fingers. He wants to pull away, to tear himself back from whatever creature just pulled the other soldier to his death. But he holds still, hands held outstretched.

He feels as something press up against his palm, before suddenly, it’s as though a switch is flipped in his brain and all bodily control has returned to him. With a jerk, he throws himself away from the pool, shoving himself away from the water.

As the water settles, the room falls into silence. A moment later, someone rounds the corner, guns raised and sweeping the room. It’s his colleagues, all staring at him as though he’s lost him mind.

“Are you broken, sir?” One of them asks.

He frowns for a second, before realising that his gloves which were damp with water, are now stained with a deep red, a pungent metallic scent burning his nose even through his mask. Perhaps his men aren’t completely foolish, the blood stains do look rather grizzly in hindsight.

“нет,” he waves them off, pushing back to his feet as he tries to calm his still racing heart. A single glance at the puddle reveals it is once again just that, a mere puddle of blood and nothing more. When he looks down to what was placed into his hand, he’s met with a vial of crystal-clear water, identical to his previous one.

If he had been smart, he would have thrown the water away and run, but something compelled him to keep it close. Perhaps if he had, then he wouldn’t be in this situation now.

Her voice had whispered to him, encouraging him to pour a drop of the water into a full bath. It pulled at his curiosity, digging its claws into his thoughts and pushing him to do something he already knew was foolish.

As the fae starts calling for him again, he digs his hands into his hair, praying that the pain will distract him from the haunting song that creeps through the crack in the door. He closes his eyes, but when they open- He's stood inside the bathroom again, his muscles locked up and completely frozen.

He can feel claws sliding up the back of his shirt, no longer protected by his usual body armour. The sensation sends goosebumps rising in the wake of each claw, climbing up and up and up, until finally reaching the back of his neck. Fingers shifting to curl around his throat, holding him in place with a grip like steel.

Despite trying with every shred of strength to try and pull away, body shaking from the exertion, he’s still unable to move. He can’t even widen his eyes as another hand grabs at his face, pressing against his scarred cheeks until his mouth is forced open. A single, clawed finger slides between his lips, pressing down on his tongue hard, until a tiny bead of blood pools beneath its tip.

He chokes when water begins to rush from the creature’s hand and directly into his mouth, but rather than the normally cool, soothing sensation that should have met him, it burns more like acid. It hits the tiny wound in his mouth, mixing with his own blood and burning through his entire body.

He can’t tell how long it lasts for, not with the way his brain begins to fog over. The thoughts slowly drift away, and he can’t quite recall why he should care so much about that. Without the fear he can at least appreciate the cool hands that drop from his face and throat, then down to his chest, only the thin fabric of a sleep shirt separating the hands from his burning skin.

“That feels better now, doesn’t it?” that soft voice coos, lips brushing over his pulse point, followed by the gentle scraping of teeth.

He can only hum in agreement, eyes drooping as his head slowly drops down slightly. He feels a forehead press against his own, looking up and into the pools of liquid black staring back at him. “да,” he breathes, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of another person’s hands roaming his body.

“Let’s get you home then, yes?” He nods against her, ignoring the way his stomach twists nervously when the fae only grins.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #fanfic #reverse fae

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piratefern · 3 months ago

Note

that's was Long and great explanation you can actually wrote a wattpad book of it! And I actually like the storyline it's really great and really felt bad for scp 049 :( honestly it was too much for poor birdie TvT

And yea why bother! I will like to read scp 035 one too ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ Thanks for taking my questions ( ˘ ³˘)♥

YIIPPEEEEE, thankyou so much :’D

alright with dyo, we’ll need some context too, in the sense that you will need to be aware of the original lore for Alagadda so id recommend reading the wiki if you haven’t already)

(Another note is that my version of Alagadda’s time doesn’t work linearly, so in this sense, it is entirely possible to enter alagadda during any time it exists, and exit to earth in a different era than when you left. It explains how the culture is affected by different eras in time, and this will be also important narratively!)

(He is originally from Alagadda as per the usual lore, except in my au he wasn’t banished to earth, and instead took refuge there, fleeing execution from the ambassador and other lords.)

In my au, dyo has a toxic sibling relationship with the other lords, ontop of this he’s also the shortest and the runtiest of the few and so was picked on, which lines him up to becoming the hanged king’s favourite as he was the easiest to manipulate.

Originally working as the jester for his king he is killed by a peasant uprising (as per the original lore) and is brought back to life three days later, offering his king a cup filled with the blood of his enemies gifted by the brothers death.

The lore follows the original story line from here in which he invites a bird like doctor to the palace to cure him of his influence of the hanged king (remember how time in alagadda isn’t linear? Yep, thats hasel! He finds a broken passage to alagadda after the point in which he has left dyo and just before the foundation finds him. He researches it and fixes it, hoping to find the “cure” for the vine on the other side)

Hasel doesn’t recognise dyo’s old form as the black lord and dyo at this point is yet to even meet hasel, and so neither of the two realise that they were intwined from the beginning.

after being cured by hasel and attempting to fight the influence of the hanged king, his execution is plotted against him by the other lords and the ambassador, and so, he escapes to earth.

yet, in my au the lords and the ambassador are still after dyo, but are unaware of his ware-abouts, Dyo destroys the portal which in turn wipes his entire memory, hoping that it will never be rebuilt again.

But didn’t hasel rebuild the portal? Uh oh! He did! Meaning he had unintentionally both freed and doomed his lover. Not only that, but the foundation had been tracking the signal that the portal had been omitting, causing the capture of both the portal and hasel! And, of course, the foundation would absolutely never destroy it!

On another note, sometimes memories of Alagadda will seep through the cracks, instances from the past that dyo forged reflect memories from his childhood and experiences in Alagadda.

Dyo landed in ancient Greece, and genuinely believes he is from there. He believes that he was a balatro (roman jester) for the king, and was fused to his mask by the ancient Greek gods as a punishment for stealing the golden wreath from the king of Rome.

However, it is evident that this story isn’t true, at the time Rome had a consul system not a king, and despite the fact Rome had capitulated Greece they didn’t share the same gods despite their similarities.

He makes his way through life, but aware of his immortality he drowns himself in alcohol and lavish parties. He doesn’t get close to anyone as he knows that they will one day die and that he will not, causing him to build bad behaviours, appear overtly cocky and confident, a tendency to avoid rejection as a side effect and a need to convince himself that everything is alright.

So! Imagine dyo, an immortal being, avoiding close relationships with anyone he meets and putting up a persona to avoid anyone liking him, finding another immortal being!I

He grows incredibly attached to hasel, for the first time in almost two millennia he doesn’t have to be alone anymore, he can finally learn how to open himself up and build on his issues and break down his persona.

But this causes abandonment and attachment issues, so you can imagine how he must have reacted when hasel leaves!

He can’t handle this, and embarks on a journey to find him again, this journey spanning over a century from WW1 to present day, in which he is also captured by the foundation and placed in the same facility as hasel… and the portal!

They are given their numbered codes 035 and 049, but with dyo being so close to the fixed portal he gradually begins to remember his past…

So yeah thats all im up to so far :3

i haven’t written anything past the foundation and the portal plot, but technically in the original draft i made with my partner a couple years back they escape with the help of Laurence (106). They learn to mend their broken relationship and also learn how to get along with laurence despite his creepiness, but that part is all old stuff so i might rewrite it. But the fact hasel leaves at WW1 was important, as this is around the time Laurence becomes anomalous, so it ties their stories in too :3

#scp #scp art #scp 035 #scp 049 #035 #049 #scp fanart #scp 035 x scp 049 #035 x 049 #scp 106 #plaguemask au

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kimberlygbart · 2 months ago

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Role Swap AU Masterpost

If you're old enough in my blog then you remember [this]

Yeah in the end I never even updated that, it's almost a year since the mod was actually released but hey I'm here!

This also might be the last post regarding the AU. It's over fr, I've reached my dream in wanting to release a mod of it and getting fanart sooo yay, the AU is done for, but dw! I've kept Whitmore, turned him into an OC.

If I don't forget to post again lol Y'all will see more of him!

Anyways here is the mod!!!

Above it's all art I've made for it alongside a GIF :P

And below the cut, you will find more links, such as gameplay and all the music! INCLUDING the full-ass complete lore of the AU!

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ya that's right!! Community game played my game ain't that crazy! Okay so here is all you need to know:

This is an AU where Whitty (now who's referred as Whitmore as his last name only) and Updike (Gabriel in this AU, he doesn't know his last name or anything since he was abandoned) switch places. ONLY they do in this AU, all others stay the same. Conrad Whitmore was raised by The Greater Good (similar concept to SCP) after being found in abandoned and crashed down lab as a doomsday experiment. TGG saw him as an useful tool Being fed well and trained since childhood, he's naturally taller and bigger than average Whitty. Also more tired. Just because Conrad had a good childhood doesn't mean he was free of trauma btw ☝ He had many experiments done on him such as vivisectomy, endoscopy and multiple blood tests and even organ removals, however he was often manipulated by TGG into doing this of free will, ever since as a kid.

For those who ask "well what about Carol? Does she still date the Whitty from this universe?" yes she did! Hex and Carol are/were still Conrad's closest people he has had in his life But Carol eventually broke up with Conrad once she learnt the true nature of his job. A big rift developes between them, with her trying to desperately convince him TGG is not the better solution it claims to be, while Conrad defends it with his life for is the only thing he knows. Their fights escalate a lot, until she visits him in his office. Needless to say it didn't go well.

I have an animatic as well! In a resume, their (verbal) fights gets him so agitated, he enters his ballistic stage where he hasn't felt that in years besides while a kid. And during his rage he pulls the trigger while Carol calls him names (monster being one). TGG covers the crime, the lyrics are important btw!

youtube

This all happened when Conrad was 21, Carol's death is tragic enough he enter a depressive episode + is taken back to his 'original bunker house' (where he was raised) by TGG for 5 years for reevaluation. Hex is the only one who knows what happened because Conrad told him. That's pretty much the lore? I think? UH anywasy tldr I became so attached to Conrad I've scrapped the 'swap' alternate reality of it and turned him into Whitty's twin brother (and Carol isn't dead there).

Also out of respect for Sock.Clip, Gabriel, or TGG no longer exists, I'm just dumping this here to be registered in my tumblr since it was the only social media I never uploaded the lore of my AU completely. But yes, swap whitty is fully dead, ofc ppl can make art for it duh, I just mean I won't be making content of it ever again, Conrad instead is being brought to the 'original' fnf world, and will be currently Whitty's twin, but his lore or story has been completely rebooted.

Thank you for reading all this damn ur a true homie!!!

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gengarghast · 3 months ago

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Had a rough idea a while back for a Gravity Falls AU where something something Capitalism or SCP Foundation stand-in catches wind of Gravity Falls and wants to capture and stash away all its weirdness. Fortunately, the Pines twins are back and have been getting visions from a certain pink celestial amphibian, telling them something terrifying.

To save Gravity Falls, Bill must rise again.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #bill cipher #book of bill #gengarghast #writing concepts

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fryingpan1234567 · 10 months ago

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putting the 141, who is already military, into sub-military aus is so special to me

Top Gun au so I can put them in planes. dope ass painted flight helmets with their callsigns across the back. Laswell and her wife own a bar that the boys like to frequent and cause trouble in. also an excuse to stick them on the California coast

Halo au because SPARTAN ARMOR?? alien warfare?? mostly the armor HELP I just wanna give Gaz a giant energy sword please

PacRim au to put them in giant robots. and so I can fuck w drift compatibility. bomber jackets with their names and jaeger insignias stitched on the sleeves and backs. bullying recruits who just wanna punch aliens. I know this one’s already been written (AMAZING fic do check it out) but still it’s everything

Avatar au because… what’s not to love? giant blue aliens with guns and pterodactyls and floating mountains?? yeah dude I am ALL in (I’m also kinda writing this if you wanna see sooo)

SCP au simply because that would be so fucking funny. “goddamn it people are going missing at IKEA again let’s fuckin move out I guess” “IF THAT FUCKING PEANUT BREACHES CONTAINMENT ONE MORE FUCKING TIME—“ “huh this house sure is weird I hope none of us get turned into code and lag out of existence” LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE

Monsterverse because I think seeing Ghost’s reaction to Godzilla crawling out of a mountain and turning pink would just… cure me. Price has sympathy for the monsters but also just wants to protect all the humans in their path. Soap LOVES all of them (Mothra is his personal favorite) and punched a higher-up who suggested bombing a recently discovered nest one time. Gaz is mostly just in awe of them all, but they also give him anxiety because just one of them could flatten an entire house with one step. they be vibin

Jurassic World because my dinosaur fixation started when I was four and never went away. I’ll fight all of you. raptor trainer Ghost?? paleoveterinarian Soap who’s friends with all the dinos?? head of security Price and head park management Gaz?? please (I’m also writing this one)

like yes. they still do the military thing. but slightly to the left. I could do it all day

#cod #task force 141 #tf141 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #top gun au #halo au #pacrim au #avatar au #scp au #monsterverse au #Jurassic world au

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angelicvigilante · 25 days ago

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A short and bad, not proofread drabble I wrote for an scp au I've been thinking of. I may not finish it, but it's inspired largely by this; Mc called Zephyr, because while there isn't really a defined personality or thoughts, I felt it fit more than doing stuff from an Mc's perspective where it should fit anyone.

Zephyr swallows nervously, wide eyes gazing up at the door– It looks like claw marks have indented into the metal, yet, here they are. Lamb to the slaughter, unwillingly presented to some keter class that’d have them dead in mere seconds, if the recent declining number of D classes and scientists have meant anything. They were at least thankful with the fact they weren’t told anything– Not.

Blood seeps out the metallic entrance as their led closer, some of it old, muddied, the others a bright, vibrant scarlet that stares back. As sickening as it is, they stay still as the door starts to open, loud and scratchy on the ears as the metal collides with the wall and the floors– Barely able to ponder it more as their shoved in, Zephyr’s heart pounding in their own ears without even seeing anything.

The doors already fucking closed, a death sentence laughing at them, it’s mocking, even more so with the fact that they know the scientists must be watching; Watching as they look around the dark room, stepping over mauled flesh, tattered like clawed clothing. Zephyr can only swallow again, breathing picking up as they hear something, someone move–

It’s inhuman, terribly so, but Zephyr can’t make it out.

So– Despite all odds, it’s already ending, right? They step closer, something ruffles, upon closer inspection, not close enough to disturb though, it’s wings. Feathers stained a deep, dark color, they can only guess one of the original colors– Most likely before the slaughter around, black. The creature doesn’t seem awake, but in its rest, it seems more human than any of the scientists they’ve come face to face with.

Zephyr’s breath dares to hitch, and it all goes to hell, wings fanning out, glowing golden-yellow eyes staring back at them, as wide as Zephyr’s own.

They stumble out as the creature lets out a horrid, screeching sound; breathing so fast they can’t even hear their own thoughts, chest heaving up and down– Just for it to get worse, the creature standing up, far, far taller than them, white claws– Almost like long nails, stained the same red everywhere else, everything is stained– Their going to be stained as well.

Zephyr’s back hits wall, a sob shaking their frame, the claws of the beast reach out and– And they–

Hold their cheek, wiping away salty tears as they fall.

No pain comes to them, the creature must just love playing with their victims, doesn’t it? Up so close, Zephyr can notice the beast has feathers, scattered throughout their body, peppering their skin like freckles, for some reason– The front of their chest lays barren, tanned skin clean save for blood splatters and white lines, curling up and down in a pattern they can’t quite place. The creature has pants, same as Zephyr themself, but it doesn’t make them believe this thing is human in the slightest, despite the way their form might fool others– Zephyr knows this is a beast.

It croons, a sickeningly saccharine sound; Something they can’t decipher, chirped out high pitched and needy. Almost greedy in the way it pulls them close, cradled right against the monster's chest. They don’t kick, don’t scream, soaking up the little kindness they are allowed from it before it will, surely– All go to hell once more, when claws finally dig in.

But they never do.

Even as they shake and tremble, nothing happens– The greedy monster doesn’t do a thing, favoring the lamb it’s been sent like a treasure, for some weird, unknown reason. It sniffs at their hair, nuzzling into it like a starved man, and Zephyr can only think about how it could unhinge its jaw and swallow them whole. They don’t know how long they sit there, don’t know anything, until they cough, their tears stopped some time ago, eyes red and angry, fighting to keep open.

Zephyr wished it was earlier, with a nicer scientist, one only using them to stare into a tank– Even if something doused them in water, leaving them smelling exactly like whatever beast inhabited that tank.

They might have preferred that beast over one who can breathe oxygen– Though they don’t know if the one from earlier was a sea monster, or what; But now isn’t the time for thoughts, not when the beasts shifts Zephyr in its arms, head against its chest– Able to hear the beating heart, just like their own.

That doesn’t make it human, it’s not human in the slightest; A monster with no empathy waiting to attack. Even as that starts to feel farther and farther from the truth.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan loosely mentioned (the one in the tank) but im tagging him anyways #the more i look at this the more i hate it #but thats okay. i don't usually like any type of art i create anyways #rambling but my legit moto for everything is “you may not like it but someone will”#anyways. the reason i wrote mammon(the creature) doing that is because they smell like leviathan. he misses his brothers. ted talk over.#hope i copied it all i wrote that in google docs idk man

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ballorawan740 · 2 years ago

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SCP Scenarios: When they cheat on their S/O (REQUESTED)

Requested by: @Just_SayuriYT

A/N: Guys, I'm so sorry for the extreme delay, I was trying to study, work and move houses at the same time with a writer's block as well, I'll try my best to finish all the requests in the coming months if I can

Warning: Some angst, cheating etc

S/O = Significant Other

(I kind of just assumed that you meant the SCPs cheating on the reader, but if that's not what you meant, then please do tell me)

SCP 073 (Cain)

This is a hard one considering that I do headcanon him as being a loyal partner

I just can't see him as being unfaithful and going out on cheating on his partner, sorry :,(

But hypothetically speaking, if Cain were to cheat on his S/O, he would probably be drunk af

Would be quite apologetic and try to explain to his S/O that something came over him when he was drunk

Definitely would be heartbroken and probably would ask for another chance because his S/O means so much to him

If his S/O decides to break up with him, he would most likely cry for days and would have a loss of appetite

Definitely would blame himself for the breakup

343 and 105 couldn't even get him to come out of his containment

Didn't even answer the door, even if it was his reluctant little brother, Able

If his S/O does decide to forgive him, he would be as joyful as ever and swore to never drink alcohol ever again

Definitely sticks to his partner like a lost puppy because he doesn't want to do something he'll regret that would hurt them

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel's a little difficult to write ngl

He's quite a wild card and a mix

Probably wouldn't cheat on his S/O either unless he was doing something stupid like getting drunk with Cain, except this time, it's more plausible for him to cheat compared to 073

Definitely would regret it the next morning with him waking up next to a stranger

Tries to hide the fact that he unintentionally cheated

Cain, Iris, and 'God' are the only ones who know, but a conversation with you made Iris slip by accident which made you furious

Breaking up with Abel was pretty difficult only because Abel did get down on his knees and begged for you to not leave him

Cain would be hiding behind the door watching his brother's heart gets torn apart painfully and he would leave because it hurts him too

His S/O probably does actually end up breaking up with him and most likely would move on happily

However, if his S/O does decide to stay in the relationship, Abel would be all up in their alley and never let them go ever again

Cain would be put in charge of not letting his brother drink ever again

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

THIS CUTIE BLOB BOY WOULD NEVER

If, however, hypothetically speaking, 999 does end up cheating, this blob must've been possessed or something

Because there's still no way I can see 999 cheating, just like I mentioned with Cain

Let's just assume that 999 got possessed or something, he would feel quite guilty when he does it

It's because he can't control himself physically, but he can see what he's doing

Is mentally scarred and when he gets his body back he would apologise to you profusely

Would do anything just to get you back because you mean the world to him

The foundation would literally b in tears watching him having his heartbroken

If you knew that he was possessed, then you would've forgiven him

However, if you didn't then there's a slight chance that you would just move on

SCP 682 (Hard to destroy reptile)

There's a slight chance that 682 would actually cheat on you

But in this AU, everyone's loyal, so it's kinda hard for me to headcanon each character to cheat on their S/O

He's probably cheating on you out of retaliation for making him mad or something along those lines

Does instantly regret his decisions and tries to get back to you without telling you

Depending on whether you find out or not, 682 might try and cover up his mess and be a little nicer to you just to keep you with him (cuz we all know that barely anyone likes this mf lizard let alone date him)

If you somehow found out, you would, quite rightfully so, get mad and explode

682 would literally shrivel up in the corner out of fear because you're worse than him when you're raging at him

The foundation probably would be equally as terrified and amused by your reaction and how 682 would literally run from you

Whether you want to date him again is up to you, but if you choose not to, then 682 would probably keep asking you for another chance but would leave you be and cry in his acid bath after countless rejections

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

049 is very much loyal to his partner, however, in the chance he does cheat, he's most likely bored af or you're annoying him way too much

Either that or it's a prank 035 made, but that's another story for another day

Probably would cheat on you with another human/SCP if he senses the pestilence on you and doesn't actually want to kill you

He just wants to distance himself from you so he doesn't actually try to kill you unintentionally because it's his 'hobby'

Is very much worried for your safety because of him

049 is even more worried if you just decide to isolate yourself from the world and everyone's asking him where you were because they just wanted to party

He would 100% comply with the foundation and help look for you, even if it means that you'd come back with a grudge against him

Once you're back in the foundation, the researchers decided to put you both in a containment cell in hopes that you would explain why you had left without a notice

Unbeknownst to them, you started to scream at our poor bird doctor because of him cheating on you and didn't give him a chance to explain, so the researchers had to pry you off him

They managed to ask him what had happened which he does explain, and so, they went to give you a little check-up and explained 049's side of the story

Needless to say, you went into the doctor's cell and gave him a good ol' hug

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

This boi right here is clearly a playboy until he had met you

Was literally having a rave with some other SCPs and foundation staff because it was Christmas

Some gal became very fond over 035 and decided to hook up with that masked individual, so she took it upon herself to go up to 035 and have him wrapped around her fingers

Unfortunately for you and 035, you decided to enter the room at such a perfect time to catch some woman on 035's lap

035, of course, was quite stunned and shocked when he saw you enter the room while he was in such a compromising position and tries to push the lady off him

And yet, you still ran away from him and threatened to break up if he didn't explain

Struggling to believe him, you allowed him 5 minutes to explain his end of the story and allowed yourself to calm down with the intention to ask the other woman about his issue

When you found her, she smirked and tries to grab 035 to which you slapped her across the face

The slap was so loud that everyone heard and looked over despite the loud music playing in the background

You then grabbed 035 to your shared cell and decided to discipline 035

Needless to say, 035 was disciplined and stayed by your side like the puppy he is

SCP 105 (Iris)

Another SCP who wouldn’t cheat on you

Probably would’ve been drunk or been blackmailed to cheat on you

If Iris was drunk and ended up cheating on you she would apologize profusely and wouldn’t forgive herself

She would do anything to make you happy and if that means breaking up with her she would hide in her room and cry for days

If it was the latter she would ask Cain and Abel to make sure you’re fine and wouldn’t even look at you if you happened to be in the same facility

You would most likely be confused and would ask her about it and she’d ignore you

She won’t tell you unless necessary because she just wants to keep you safe

Cain and Abel would most likely be the ones explaining the situation

SCP 106 (Old Man)

He'd most likely cheat when he's extremely stressed, but he'd regret it later

Tries to be honest with you, but doesn't have the guts to do so

So instead, he would pray that you don't ever find out

Plot twist, you do and of course, you're not proud of it

106 would plea with you but to no avail, and would cry in his pocket dimension

It's quite unlikely that he would come out of it unless it's you that's telling him to get tf out of his pocket dimension like the chicken he is

If you do forgive him because you love this old man that much, then he would also stay by your side for all of eternity

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

THIS BBY HERE WOULD NEVER--

It's more likely that some other gal tries to seduce him and him crying because he loves you sooooooooo much :)

And you being an amazing partner that you are would understand him and probably try and hunt for that person who flirted with your man

096 would probs try and stop you from trying to murder everyone on-site but ofc that doesn't help

However, if you were there at the scene, that gal would get a huge smack in the face without hesitation

If there were some misunderstandings, because a certain someone spread false rumors, then 096 would try and gain back your trust and cry

If you decide to break up with him he would cry endlessly and his cries would be more heartbreaking and louder than before

SCP 1678-A (Bobbies/Policeman)

Also has -0.000001% chance of cheating on you

And if he did, it's most likely him being an undercover policeman (Don't ask, just go with the flow)

If he's been caught being a little too 'friendly' with another person, he would try and explain it to you

1678(a) would be worried af for you because you yeeted yourself out with tears running down your face

If you wanted to break up with him, he would def be heartbroken but accepts it

His fellow friends would try and talk to you both but they're stopped by him

If you do understand and decided to stay with him, he would assume that he broke a little bit of trust in you so he tries his best to make it up to you whenever and however he can

SCP 079 (Old AI)

Probably thinks that it was fun, to begin with (if you know his wiki then you know)

Most likely would show it off in front of you just because he knows he has you wrapped around his 'fingers'

However, once he had his fun he would go back to you, only to find out that you've locked yourself inside whilst crying

After a while, 079 would regret it because you're the only one who cared about him, aside from 682

Tries to change for you so he begs you to forgive him

If you decide to move on, then 079 would lock himself in his cell and weep for quite a while

682 is called in to help deal with the mess

Part of him wants to tear you apart from hurting his best friend, but the other part of him saw you as another close friend and somehow respects you

If you do decide to stay with him, even though it's a terrible idea knowing how he treated ya, then he would be joyful and swore to do whatever you wanted him to do

SCP 343 (God)

Def doesn't have the heart to cheat on you But if he, hypothetically, cheated on you, he would most likely use his godly powers so you wouldn't know He'd also erase everyone's memories so nobody will ever remember it if they do witness him cheating on you The exception to that is SK and 2845 or you have some supernatural abilities too Assuming that you're friends with either or both of them, one of them would probs reverse the mind powers 343 and tell you about it

If and when you find out, he’ll just sigh and ‘explain’ to you and allow you to decode ether you want to stay or not

If you decide to stay, he’d be surprised and will continue on with the relationship while keeping an eye on you

If, however, you decide to leave him, he’ll let you leave

SCP 173 (Sculpture)

Most likely will cheat on you a few times but not as much as the Scarlet King

173 would probably not care at all

Well at first at least

He's more like a playboy more than anything with you as his main bitch

I think after a while, he might feel some sort of guilt afterward since you're the only one who cares about him mentally and physically

If you found out he was cheating early on, he wouldn't even care at all

However, if you found out later, either from one of the ladies/men or from him, he would pretend to not care at all but he does

TBH breaking up with him isn't hard at all and you'd be heartbroken for a week nut you'll recover

For 173, if you broke up with him early on then he wouldn't feel a thing until months later

Otherwise, he would try and make it up to you but would give up if you persisted on breaking up with him

SCP Scarlet King

He'll 110% cheat on you and in front of you as well

Without any shame at all

Like he has so many wives already

Well, for them it's not really by choice so it's not like they would care too much, but for you, he treated you so much differently and it was evident

If it's been going on for a while, one of the wives would probably tell you and you both would spy on him together

Which would ofc shatter your heart into pieces despite knowing that this could happen

But you were heads over heels for this demon SCP so that's a you problem

TBH if you broke up with him early on, he wouldn't care and won't even bat an eyelash at you

His wives would def beat tf outta him without shame and would comfort you after

If you broke up with him much later then he would probably laugh at you and tell you that you were quite dense for not noticing

I think with Scarlet King, he'd be the more cold hearted one among everyone else on the list

Dr Jack Bright

Jack Bright would do it for the LOLs tbh

Most likely would change bodies to not get noticed at all

He started out as some summer fling just cuz he can

It's until you noticed he went out earlier and earlier and came back late at night

You'd also notice he would more often than not, come back in different bodies and smelt like smoke and alcohol

Assuming that you went to confront him, he would probably brush it off

If you kept on pestering him every second of the day, he would eventually tell you and watch you burst into tears

At first, he just stared blankly as if it was normal, but eventually, he felt like his heart shattered into pieces

You gave him the silent treatment while he went to Dr Glass for some advice and to cry out his pain

Poor Glass had to drag him back to you for you both to sort out your mess

Bright probably begged for you to not break up with him since you were the only one who understood and cared for him

If you eventually decide to break up then he would be depressed for centuries

Dr Simon Glass

Just like Cain, I don't think he'll ever cheat on you tbh

But assuming he did, it's probably a one-night stand and someone probably drugged him or something

Would feel guilty for days and would try and play it off only to realize it's making him more and more miserable

Eventually, he would tell you about it and ofc you'd be pissed since he didn't mention it earlier

You'd def give him the silent treatment and Glass would just hide in his office in such a depressed state only for Bright to barge in and bother him

Bright def heard the rumors and confronted him and you about it

Because it's Bright, he somehow managed to find a way to cheer you both up and bring you both back together

You'd have to keep a close eye on Glass and everyone else

If he were to go out drinking, you would either go with him or ask someone to accompany him

Dr Alto Clef

Just like Bright and 173, he would do it just for the funsies

Has multiple flings before your relationship and during, but not as often as some of the other guys on the list

Won't feel too guilty tbh

Might actually tell you that he was cheating and takes you to Kondraki and Glass so you can sob

Bright was probably with Clef while he was having a fling but did mention multiple times to tell you

Clef would probably feel a bit of heartache but just turned a blind eye to it

Kondraki encouraged you to break up with Clef and it took you weeks to do this (Cuz y'all are stubborn af nowadays)

Eventually when you both broke up Clef most likely would feel guilty like months later and just watch you from afar

If you found another partner, Clef would probably congratulate with a smile you if he was to walk past and would drop the smile once he was out of your sight

Def knows he won't be getting you back anytime soon but would try his best to snatch you away again

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Another one that's unlikely gunna cheat on you

Probably was drunk and did it without thinking twice because he's depressed af

You notice that he came back with the smell of alcohol and hickies to which you would comment on it the day after

The next morning, Kondraki would be in a daze and would vaguely remember what he did the night before

Def would run up to you if you weren't there with him in the morning and attempts to explain everything

Ofc he gets the silent treatment as you debated to whether you wanted to break up with him

Clef and Bright would just listen behind a wall in case you wanted to burst out in anger and sadness

Glass probs would try and calm everyone down

Whether or not you wanted to break up with him, he felt guilty for months and won't even try and leave your side

If you broke up with him, he would come back with bruises from you trying to get him out of your sight

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