#scp foundation fanfiction

[melinoelabs]

Dear Sirs.

SCP-682's powers are metatextual. He's unkillable because the story says he is nearly unkillable and no solution would be satisfying. His nickname is 'the very hard to destroy reptile' for rigour's sake. You don't have to be Grant Morrison to put this together.

The solution is to alter the narrative so that there is a means of killing him that is satisfying. Unfortunately, only full-on apocalypse scenarios or the use of SCP-682 as a jobber for an even worse threat would fill that criteria.

So unless you want to unleash something even more tiresome, like the Black Moon or the Scarlet King or the Yellow Submarine or whatever other color-coded doomsday monster you have on tap, you're just wasting jumpsuit filling doing anything at all.

The easy alternative is to simply stop trying to kill him.

Just focus on holding him in the most boring, routine ways possible, rendering him increasingly less interesting and thus reducing the time between stories focused on him and thus, the resulting breaches and disasters.

Or you can do what we did. If you aren't chicken.

Ours wasn't a rotted lizard. It was a sort of mummified horse the size of a 1996 Volkswagen Harlequin, and it was a she, but otherwise same deal. Regeneration. Vat of acid. Mass casualties. Violent opposition to the use of breath mints. Endemic to all life. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

We figured out the how it worked, and we speed-ran the whole concept, hurling that vile beast through a veritable plinko-fall of thousands of extermination tests and controlled rampages until there was literally nothing left to do with the 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse'.

And we trust the populace enough to not lie to them for 'their own good'. Because its funny? Sure. Profitable? Absolutely (don't worry, shareholders!)! But never for 'their own good.'

So we turned those experiments into a 17 season reality television program hosted by Greg Kinnear and force-fed them to a sludge-hungry populace.

There were 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' calendars, coffee mugs, t-shirts, two different animated spin-offs running at the same time for some reason, four movies starring Chris Pratt as the voice of the horse, an ongoing sketch on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' "acid bath" sour candy flavored yogurt in a tube, a series of increasingly inadequately playtested gameboy cartridges, a 27-issue limited series from Image comics, and adorable plush mummified murder-horse plushes with little suction cups on their red-felt hooves so they can stare balefully out the back of your station wagon at that ASSHOLE Kevin in his souped up Trans AM who does not understand the concept of a safe following distance, and you JUST want to run him off the road with the magno-lifters and recreate the scene from Lost Highway with Robert Loggia, but "you can't use the magno-lifters for revenge" because it's "against OSHA regulations" and "technically assault!"

And once the first shipment of 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' Funko Pops hit store shelves, the creature's cultural cache cratered so hard that it became a parody of itself so predictable it's "containment" is now a Universal Studios attraction with two failed executions and a containment breach each night, with double shows on Saturdays.

Now, it was a rocky ride getting there, especially for Utah (projections say you'll get those House seats back in two, maybe three, generations at most, don't you worry!) but we've proven that even if it isn't killable, you can, in fact, beat a dead horse.

Hope this helps.

Humbert, Outreach Liaison Melinoë Laboratories "Hoc non veniet ad nos mordax"

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: SCP Foundation

Sample Size: 1,295 stories

Source: AO3

[soundwavesconjunx]

🎭 His Dear Witch ~ 🎭

It's unknown why do you even exist. The SCP Foundation doesn't know what to do with you. You're a confusing paradox that they do not understand and most frustratingly—uncontainable in a conventional sense.

#TAGS: Nothing Time Twins related, SCP Fandom is slowly drawing me back, It includes SCP! Reader, The Herta! Reader, Honkai Star Rail x SCP Crossover, Potentially OOC, Reader x Canon, Witch Reader, Short Writing, The Herta! Reader x SCP Character, More stuff like this would be included if interested, SCP FANS ARISE. 🔥🔥🔥

— TW?: Possesive Themes, Be Warned, 035 Being 035 As Usual, Potential Yandere Themes, He Calls You His 'Wife'.

A/N: After hitting maxed pity on Herta's banner along with her LC, I decided to make an interesting crossover because I thought it would be interesting to see how this goes for The Herta! Reader Insert. (Huge bonus that I'm blessed with good stats while I'm building her. 🙏)

You’re the definition of an enigma. A literal spacefaring, unknown anomaly wrapped up in an elegantly appearance, self-aware, and untouchable persona. The Foundation doesn’t know what to do with you, and SCP-035? He’s utterly entranced.

And Who Exactly Are You in the SCP Foundation?

You are Anomaly [REDACTED], a Level 6: CTS entity classified under Euclid. They don’t fully understand what you are—just that you exist, that you have an unsettling level of influence, and that you are playing the longest of long games.

You don’t act out. You don’t cause destruction. You don’t try to escape. Instead, you watch. You let them wonder why you haven’t done anything drastic, knowing full well that the moment you choose to tip the scales, everything changes.

They don’t imprison you because they can’t. They simply keep you in containment because you allow them to.

And then there’s SCP-035.

SCP-035 has never met someone like you before.

He’s charming, cunning, and manipulative—but none of it works on you. Not because you’re immune to him, but because you let him think he’s in control before flipping the script entirely.

You’re his perfect counterpart. The ultimate tease, the unattainable yet tangible anomaly that keeps him guessing.

At first, he tries to toy with you, flirt with you, unnerve you. And then, he realizes.

Oh.

You’re not like the others.

You understand him. You see through every little act, every trick, every calculated play. But instead of rejecting him or trying to outmaneuver him, you do something infinitely worse.

You indulge him.

You let him speak his flowery words, you humor his charm—but it’s clear who the real player is in this game. He’s used to being in control, but you? You make it so easy for him to fall under your spell instead.

And it drives him insane.

The Foundation is uneasy. Not because you’re violent, but because they cannot predict what you’re doing.

Why do you allow SCP-035 to get so close?

Why does SCP-035, a master manipulator, seem to worship you?

What is your endgame?

They want to separate you two, but the problem? 035 actually behaves when you’re around.

If anything, he’s less volatile, less inclined to escape, more… cooperative. But only because he knows that if he behaves, he gets you.

035: (mocking, but with an underlying threat) “Oh? You want to take my darling away? My wife?” (chuckles darkly) “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You wouldn’t want to see me upset, would you?”

The researchers watching? Having war flashbacks.

The Real Question is...Why You Haven’t Given Him a Permanent Host (Yet)?

Because you’re playing the long game.

You could give him a permanent body. A perfect, indestructible vessel crafted specifically for him. A host that would never rot, never decay, never fail him.

And he knows you can.

That’s why he adores you. That’s why he’s obsessed.

But you? You wait.

You let him yearn. Let him crave it. Let him wonder if today is the day you’ll finally grant him that final gift.

035: (grinning, tilting his host’s head at you) “Tell me, dearest… when will you finally stop teasing me?”

You: (smirking, brushing a hand over his mask, whispering) “Would you love me the same if I gave you everything at once?”

035: … (soft chuckle) “Ah. I see. You do know me too well, don’t you?”

And the Foundation? Losing their minds. Because whatever the hell this is? It’s not normal.

They don’t know if it’s love, obsession, or something far worse.

But they do know one thing:

SCP-035 is yours.

[moldypoff]

No cuz wouldn’t it be so funny if 049 was handed a ‘sick’ patient and finds that they have no trace of the pestilence in them but researchers keep insisting that the patient is sick.

Eventually he gets pissed and that’s when they tell him that the patient has depression.

He tells them that ailments to the mind aren’t his specialty but they keep pushing him to whip up some sort of cure.

So, he requests a bunch of things, dried lavender flowers, water, oils, pots and a portable stove, sugar, etc. and he goes into full TLC mode.

First day goes by and people are like, “okay, basic mental remedies, at some point he’ll rip them open and fix the unbalanced humors in patient, right?” WRONG.

He spends time reading and talking to patient for the next few days and slowly they come out of their shell, picking up old/new hobbies that 049 introduced to them to. It’d be even cooler if patient gets better in record time than if they’d just gone to a weekly therapy session.

Anywho, patient gets taken away by foundation to do a psyche evaluation and turns out their depression is cured. (THE ONE THING 049 HAS ACTUALLY CURED)

Afterward, even if patient was formerly a researcher or a d-class, I think it wouldn’t matter in the end because they’d still be amnesticized.

Anyways, 049 has all this crap in his cell and it looks like he actually lives there now but it’s missing the person that made his prison feel like a home.

[insomniac-djmm]

Dr. Gears relationship headcannons? :3

My first request for Dr. Gears! He's one of my absolute FAVORITE characters, I'm so excited to write for him! ^^

(My best friend, @shslbunnylover, makes fun of him and says he uses Life Alert and that he's so old, he invented the alphabet ToT) Also, thank so much for this request, I absolutely love your account, as well! (*´∀`*) Merry Christmas!! <3

Dr. Charles Ogden Gears Relationship Headcanons

• Gears is notorious for being expressionless to the highest degree, so when you were the only person he'd give a half-smile to, rumors started.

• And those rumors were correct: Dr. Gears had a thing for you.

• Of course, the man himself confessed to you before word got around to your ears.

• It was blunt - short and sweet.

• "I have an interest in you. Would you be interested in beginning a relationship with me?"

• Perhaps a rose as well! A small token of his affection (｡•̀ᴗ-)

• During the relationship, there was a bit of a change in his behavior, both towards you and his coworkers.

• He didn't seem as uptight, but of course, he still was. Just not as much.

• Even his reactions were finally slightly noticable!

• And with you? You could probably get a full smile out of that man. Maybe even a little chuckle.

• Others found it impressive, you thought it was sweet.

• He will always check on how you're doing, even if it's obvious how you are.

• "How are you doing today, my dear?"

• He likes hearing it from you.

• It also gets you to talk about your day as well, and he enjoys listening to your voice.

• You guys have a Talker X Listener dynamic.

• He takes note to do research on the things you bring up during your conversations.

• He even has a piece of paper where he lists things to look up for you.

• Hand-holder. No notes.

• Just kidding, I'll give some notes.

• I think he's left handed!

• So, for example, while he's doing some paperwork, he'll hold his paper down with his right hand, yeah?

• He likes to place your hand on the paper and then place his hand on yours.

• He especially likes rubbing your hand with his thumb a bit.

• His absolute favorite thing is hand-holding, at least, with you it is.

• To him, it's a nice thing, feeling the warmth of somebody else.

• The constant feedback that they, too, are alive.

• He expresses his affection with little gestures.

• Opening the door for you, bringing you a cup of coffee in the morning, waiting for you during lunchtime.

• Every little thing matters to him, and he wants all the little things to say that he loves you.

I had so much fun writing these! I had a ton of headcanons from my self-ship with him, so I got this done super quick! I absolutely ADORE Dr. Gears, so thank you so much for this request! I really, truly hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas!! <333

[dontforcemetologin]

watercolour is unbearably annoying.

but heres a guy.

[vnikra]

Happy valentine’s day

And I like the headcanon about King carrying Gerald in his arms

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 54

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: "Trust me?" "Always."

AO3

Spotify

Against all odds and expectations, you made it to the archives without being attacked, waylaid, or harassed. Considering your company, even the most dangerous anomaly would hesitate before crossing paths with your group. 682 might not be back to his original size, but he was still deadly and unkillable, and 053 would mentally affect any humans before they ever caught sight of you.

Much like Safe Object Storage, the archives contained items that were labeled as Safe and needed minimum containment. What made them so lethal as to be buried deep within Heavy Containment was what they could do to a person when touched or perceived.

You glanced around the large foyer, doors surrounding the walls that led to different hallways and sections of the archives. It reminded you of 106’s dimension, of the circular room filled with gaping corridors that branched out into the darkness, and you shivered.

“So,” you began when the group came to a stop in the middle of the room, “do you know which way to go?”

It took 049 a moment to realize you were talking to him.

“I have never been here before, nor do I know of an exit—”

He tilted his head in a peculiar way, as if catching a sound only he could hear.

“What? What is it?”

“I do not know. There is something…” He trailed off, turning in a slow circle to face the plethora of doors. He came to a stop, facing one, and said, “There.”

“Is it the Pestilence?”

“No.” The answer came out faint, his gaze distant. “But it is… familiar.”

You exchanged a glance with 682, but the reptile said nothing, giving a roll of his eyes before turning toward the door. Apparently, he didn’t think much of 049’s choice.

Seeing as you were the one closest to the door with opposable thumbs, you strode forward and pulled open the door on its tracks. It moved with a pneumatic hiss of released pressure, and thanks to 079 in the system, didn’t require a keycard you lacked.

682 with 053 on his back went first, with you in the middle and 049 covering the rear. He closed the door behind you, and white light illuminated the long hallway. The power in this section had its own separate grid and had remained online during the breach.

Doors lined both sides of the corridor, first on one side and then another, alternating so no two doorways faced each other. They appeared to be made of thick concrete and steel, the size of their hinges and the hatch handles giving the impression of bulkheads or vault doors.

As you continued along the hallway, you watched 049. The idea that 035 might have been right about him knowing a way out made you more uneasy, not less. And the distant look in 049’s eyes began to change, sharpen with focus, and when he stopped before one of the doors, you knew you’d found your destination.

“Wait.”

049 paused, his hands freezing before grabbing the hatch. You eyed 682, and wisely decided to ask before reaching for his neck.

“I need to get out 079. Make sure it’s safe to open and the security measures have been disabled.”

“Fine.” The reptile, now the size of a small pony, eyed you with one large, yellow slitted eye. “I suggest you take care.”

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Sarcasm does not become you.”

Instead of rolling your eyes, which was quite tempting, you offered a tight-lipped smile and pulled the bag strap from his neck and over his head, careful not to tangle it in his green mane. You looped the strap over your neck and shoulder before pulling out the laptop, and unable to find a nearby flat surface, you smiled at 053 and put the computer on her lap.

“Wanna say hi to 079?”

“Yeah!”

You flipped open the laptop and immediately the screen illuminated with the black and white image of 079’s projected image.

“079.”

“Reid. Your success and survival are an aberration.”

“I missed you, too. Can we get into this room safely?”

“Yes.”

“Great—”

“Hi, 079!”

The snappish computer didn’t have an immediate response to the girl’s outburst.

“…Hello.”

“We’re going on an adventure.”

“If that is what you quantify as a journey that will likely end in the deaths of everyone in this facility—"

“Okay.” You lifted the laptop from 682’s back. “We can catch up later. Anything else we should know before going inside?”

The computer glared at you as much as possible with a static face.

“Do not linger.”

Helpful.

“Thanks.”

“The Foundation has sent outside forces, and once they have finished reconnecting the skybridges, they will attempt to recapture the facility.”

“Oh. Right, thank you.”

You closed the screen, tucked it away inside its bag, and then stepped forward only to be blocked by a gentle hand.

“I will open it.” Despite the troubled look he held, his words were soft. “You’ve done more than your share to get us this far.”

You stepped back and nodded, mostly because you didn’t trust yourself to speak. Even now, with death all around you and danger chasing at your heels, your mind still went stupid and fuzzy when his eyes went all soft and warm like that.

049 gripped the hatch in his gloved hands and turned the handle. It might be unlocked, but with the strength it took for 049 to open it, you guessed it would ordinarily take two guards to turn the wheel and open the door. It rumbled on his hinges as 049 pulled it outward, the corridor wide enough to give plenty of room to the massive door.

He stepped through first, and you followed him into an entry way, beyond that a second doorway, this one constructed of two sets of glass to form an airlock.

Next to the airlock was an informational placard in an octagonal shape. At the top was the green lock symbol for Safe. Next, a weaving triangle that indicated it as a Warning risk class, and on the other side, a Keneq disruption class. Both were level three, indicating significant risk to an area the size of a city.

At the top of the placard read, ITEM#: 5917.

“049,” you said, “I don’t think we should—”

The glass door shattered as he hit it with the point of his elbow. He cleared the remaining fragments of tempered glass with his arm, the shards unable to pierce his thick hide.

No alarm sounded, proof that 079 had indeed shut down any security measures or alarms. The second glass door broke as easily as the first, reinforced glass not presenting much of a challenge to the SCP. He strode forward into the room, and you followed at a more cautious pace.

There were two objects contained within the space, and the muted lights overhead reminded you of a museum exhibit, especially with one of the objects housed under a glass display on top of a pedestal. The other was a large, oblong box in the middle, lying flat on the ground.

049 homed in on the smaller object, but you walked up to the coffin-like structure and read the plague melded onto the side: SCP-5917-1.

Another round of shattering glass filled the room as 049 broke the glass, and he opened the box and pulled out an intricately decorated silver scroll case with gold trim. He stared at it, mesmerized, and said, “This will guide us out of our captivity.”

You barely heard his words; you stepped onto the ridge around the base of the large box, recognizing it for what it was. It was an anomalous-corpse cryogenic chamber, and under the glass lid, you could see the body inside.

It was both humanoid and avian, with brown speckled feathers that disappeared under dark brown robes, and what you mistook for a mask was an actual curved beak.

“They look like… you.”

“There are no others like me.”

When you didn’t move or speak, only continued to stare at the bird-like being, 049 joined you, and he froze with a wide, confused expression.

“I do not understand.”

682 cast a narrow eye at the contents of the coffin and let out a horse-like snort.

“More crows. Not so special, are you.”

053 tried to reach for the lid, her eyes large and curious, but 682 pulled her away before she could do more than smudge the glass with her hands. 049 remained stock still, his own expression wide and on the edge of panic.

“Hey.” You rested your hand on his arm, your thumb stroking the course fabric of his skin. “It’s okay, we can figure this out later.”

You indicated the case in his hand, sealed with tiny silver latches.

“You said that will help us escape. Do you know how?”

He was lost, his words unsure as he met your eye, something pleading in them.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Come on, Doc,” spoke a voice from the doorway. “Use that birdbrain of yours.”

Lifting your shotgun, you spun and aimed, but 035 already had his rifle pointed at your chest.

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty,” he crooned. “No one needs to be riddled with the un-fun kind of holes.”

You took in his appearance, changed since you last saw him. Black liquid oozed from the eyes and mouth of the mask, the decayed state of his body leaking through and staining the MTF’s attire. He was eating through his body too fast, and if you had to guess, he didn’t have much time left.

049 slipped in front of you, forcing you to aim the shotgun at the ground. Goddammit.

“I beg to differ,” he growled. 035 sighed.

“Are you still sore at me? Come now, it’s been over a hundred years. Let it go. I forgave you for that little crypt incident, didn’t I? Can’t we all just get along?”

“No.”

035 spoke louder and said, “Be a dear and convince your beau that I’m only here to help.”

You moved out from behind 049, out of reach before he could grab you, and aimed your shotgun again at 035. He mirrored the movement with his rifle, and you had the distinct feeling he enjoyed this game.

“What do you want?” you snapped.

049 gave you an unhappy look but stayed where he was. 682 was on the other side of the cryogenic chamber, hunched down as if to leap, but he didn’t. You didn’t think it was possible for the reptile to be unsure about anything, but as 053 clung to his back, eyes round with fear as she watched the oozing mask, you knew the reason why.

“Like I said before,” 035 said in a lazy drawl. “A ride out. And judging from the good doctor’s vacant expression, he doesn’t remember how to use the map.”

“What map?”

035 tilted his head toward 049, or more accurately, what was in his hands.

“That map.”

“Another one of your tricks,” 049 seethed.

“Is that poultry-popsicle a trick?” 035 gave him another curious look, his tone as equally interested. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

049 said nothing but narrowed his eyes, and 035 rewarded him with a mocking laugh.

“That’s all right, I couldn’t either. Being away from the Golden City tends to… distort one’s memories. But I sense your broken mind goes much deeper than that. They didn’t want you to remember anything. Not after what you did.”

He nodded toward the cryogenic chamber, his words laced with sinister glee.

“Are you saying 049 did that?”

“Is that what I’m saying?” 035 giggled at your scowl. “No, this death isn’t on his hands. But there are others, and their blood stains him down to the marrow. He’ll never wash it clean.”

“Falsehoods,” 049 growled. Maybe it was because of the corpse nearby, but you could imagine the snapping of a beak. “Your words are air, without substance. You speak lies and dress them as truths—”

“Am I lying about the feathers, Valens?”

049 went rigid.

“They itch, don’t they.” 035’s voice was low, equally seductive as it was insidious. “It must be torture. A constant prickling you can’t scratch, trapped under that hide like a coat of paint over rotted wood.”

“What’s he talking about?” you asked, and the unnerved look in his eyes made you far more uneasy than anything else. And how does he know your name?

“More tripe. A palaver of nothing.”

“Gods, you’re just as stubborn as you were a millennium ago.” Gone was 035’s amusement, replaced by genuine anger. “I’m trying to help, you old quack. If you don’t get that stick out of your ass, you’re going to die here, along with your precious assistant.”

049 started towards him, hands clenched at his sides as if he would like nothing more than to beat the mask into ceramic dust.

035 raised his rifle and aimed it directly at your face. 049 froze.

“I’ll do it. I’ll blow this place sky-fucking-high with a bullet to her skull. I actually like her, but I’ll see us all dead before I go back to that suffocating box.”

A sniffling noise interrupted the dead silence, and 682 released a low growl as the mask looked at the girl. Her face was teary as she clung to the reptile’s fur, and 035’s words went sharp.

“Really? You brought the brat and the dog, but you won’t take your old pal? And I was just about to tell you how the map works.”

“It’s okay,” you said to 053, your voice soft and hopefully calming. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

035 sighed, and like a switch being flipped, his hot anger became sweeping melodrama.

“Come on, sweetheart. You know kids make me antsy, and I need a steady trigger finger.”

049 stiffened, and his fists curled at his sides.

“Fine,” you said. “We’ll help you escape.”

049’s head snapped in your direction.

“Splendid,” 035 cajoled, but you didn’t pay attention to him, and instead met 049’s eye. His look of surprise and then anger faded into something more confused the longer you stared.

“Just how long have you been planning this containment breach?” you asked, finally breaking eye contact as you turned back to the oozing mask. “Most of the Site-19 anomalies are here. That can’t be a coincidence. Even the Dream Man showed me the Site-19 breach and said it would be important.”

035’s head went at a tilt, and his curiosity was like unseen fingers trailing over your skin. You held back the shiver.

“Yes… if only we all made it. Too bad about 173; I assume that was your work. Shame. I liked that little creep.”

“Dýo.”

The mask immediately perked up at 049’s tired voice.

“Oh, I love it when you say my name. Yes, dear?”

049 looked like he would rather be flayed than say another word, but he still asked:

“How do we use the map?”

“I’ll show you just as soon as you put down the gun, Reid.” He leaned his head in your direction, leering. “You no longer need it, and I’m not fond of that murderous little glint in your eye.”

You moved your hand to regrip the stock of the shotgun, but 035 didn’t see you reaching for the laptop bag. You sent him an ugly look, just in case he was mistaken in the belief that you didn’t despise him completely, and you set the shotgun on the ground and kicked it out of reach.

“Attagirl. Now, Valens, if you would, take the scroll out of the case and open it up.”

049 hesitated, but with 035’s rifle steadily aimed at your head, he didn’t have a choice. He unlatched the glittering case and took from it a scroll of old brown parchment. He carefully unfurled it, and as he did so his eyes widened, his gaze transfixed on what lay across its surface.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 035 purred like a satisfied cat. “Do you remember how to read it?”

“I…”

That was all 049 said, as if entranced.

You reached for the bag again, and with both of them occupied, neither noticed you slip SCP-178 from an outside pocket. But someone did. 682 appraised you with one yellow eye, noting the anomaly clasped between your fingers before meeting your gaze again.

“Well?” 035 said, his tone clipped. “You better not fuck this up, Doc. You’re making more than one trip.”

That finally snapped 049 out of his fixation, and he looked at the mask with a growing frown in his gaze.

“What?”

“You’re taking me out of here first. I’m not staying a minute longer, and I gotta make sure you really give it your best shot.” 035 nudged the muzzle of his rifle in your direction. “Otherwise, ton cœur gets left behind to live out her days in a cell. So, you know. All the pressure.”

049 gripped the edges of the aged scroll so hard you worried he would tear it.

“No.”

035 dropped his playful tone, and his grinning face turned into the tragedy mask within the blink of an eye.

“What’s the problem? If you don’t screw it up, you’ll be back within seconds.”

“Rot in hell, enfoiré.”

“Stubborn old cloaca—”

“Run!”

You shouted the word to 682 at the same moment you put on the 3-D glasses, and the room erupted into chaos and strange, screeching nightmares.

The reptile bounded for the door, carrying 053 on his back and out of harm’s way as they made it through the broken airlock. You dived for the sarcophagus, blocking 035’s line of sight and his ability to shoot you. But he was too occupied to care; several 178-2s had popped into existence inside the room. Almost seven feet tall with smooth bodies and oblong heads, dozens of tiny black eyes dotting their surface, their claws were poised for ripping, and the appendages on their back could act like cutting whips or lethal blades.

035 yelled what sounded like curses in several languages before he started to fire.

Bullets ricocheted across the tile floor and embedded into walls and lights. More screeches filled the room as some of the bullets hit their targets. Terrified he’d been hit, you peeked around the cryochamber to search for 049, and found him trapped in a corner, one of the entities attempting to stab him with its scythe-like appendages.

049 gripped the appendages, and blood oozed down his wrists from where the blades bit into his palms, cutting through his hide.

You yanked off the glasses, and the chromatic double image of the world returned to its normal focus and color, and you stuffed 178 back into the bag and then crawled across the floor. The 178-2s had stopped popping into existence, but the remaining creatures were here to stay, and they were pissed.

049 was losing the fight with the larger anomaly. A slice bled from across his chest, and his arms shook where the 178-2 pushed down, making a horrible gurgling noise as its blades cut deeper into 049’s palms.

You lunged forward and grabbed it by the ankle, and before it realized its fight was over, the entity dissolved and fizzled into nothingness.

A wave of exhaustion hit you, and you lowered your forehead to the ground in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. You hadn’t caught your breath before you were grabbed by the waist and hoisted off the floor, 049 pulling your arm over his shoulder before half-dragging, half-carrying you out of the room.

Bullets pinged off the metal frame of the airlock behind you. 049’s hands were slick with his blood, and it must have hurt to support your weight, but he didn’t stop until you were at the end of the corridor in the rotunda room with the doorways leading outward.

He leaned you against the wall, putting his own back to the surface, but he wasn’t catching his breath. He was waiting for something.

The gunfire had stopped. Either 035’s body had succumbed to the 178-2s, or he’d killed them all. Either way, you had to find the others. Did 049 still have the scroll?

You opened your mouth to ask, and snapped it shut at the sound of racing footsteps down the corridor.

049 reached out and snatched the barrel of the gun as soon as it appeared, wrenched it downwards, and punched 035 hard across his porcelain face.

035 let out a string of curses that might have been Greek, stumbled off balance, and 049 grabbed him by his covered throat and slammed him against the wall.

“Son of a bitch—"

049 snapped his neck.

Whatever else 035 wanted to say, he wouldn’t be saying it now. 049 let his limp form slide to the ground, the legs splayed out like a broken doll, and he released a held sigh.

“I have waited a long time to do that.”

You also sighed, too tired to have patience for their thousand-year grudge match. You knelt next to the body and set the bag against your knees, and then you carefully pulled the mask off the corpse’s face. Nothing remained but a black, oozing sludge pile.

“What are you doing?”

The mask itself, stained with greasy pitch tears a moment ago, was now pristine and white in your hands.

“Taking him with us.”

“Tell me this is a poor jest.”

You looked up, but at the sight of his wounds still trickling blood, your irritation softened into a need to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t, not yet.

“Better us than the Foundation. He’s too dangerous to stay here. 035 trapped me in your containment chamber.”

“Pardon?”

“He manipulated at least one researcher to make it happen.” You swallowed hard. “Kenneth locked me in your cell, and that’s only what 035 has admitted to. Knowing him, he has more personnel under his sway. Maybe by removing him, they have a chance of being freed of his control.”

If they survived. Was Kenneth still alive? You couldn’t think of the alternative, not right now. You were mentally worn, trembling with physical exhaustion, and approaching the edge of what your sanity could handle.

049 watched you for a long moment, and then his shoulders lost their rigid edge.

“I will defer to your judgement.”

You placed the mask in the bag, using a separate pocket. The last thing you needed was for 035 to try and wear 079 like a body. You slung the laptop bag over your shoulder, and after a moment, you took 035’s rifle as well. Once you were on your feet, you reached for 049’s hand and gently squeezed his fingers, mindful of his injuries.

“Thank you.”

He smiled with his eyes, and you quickly looked down. You laid his knuckles across your palm and spread open his fingers, examining the wound more closely. The blade had sliced deep, and you were sure his other hand wasn’t much better.

Reaching for the bottom hem of your gown, you tore off two long strips, uneven and a poor substitute for a real bandage. You wrapped it around one hand, careful to cover the wound and tie it off tight before starting on the other. 049 allowed you to do this without a word, a compliant patient, even as he looked at you in a way no patient should.

“I know you two have a history,” you said, still cradling one of his hands even though you’d finished treating both, “but once we escape, I’ll find a way to safely secure him and—"

An explosion nearly rocked you both off your feet, and rumbling followed in an aftershock, deep within the bones of the facility. The growling screams of nearby 178-2s joined in with melodic cacophony, and a second shockwave sent you scurrying for the security desk. After yanking out the ethernet cable from the computer and inserting it into 079, you opened the lid and yelled, “What happened!”

Instead of responding with words, a surveillance feed flashed onto the screen showing a man on fire. He roamed down a hallway, leaving a conflagration of melting panels and combusting wall insulation in his wake.

“That’s SCP-457,” you said. Shit.

“At the current exponential increase of catastrophic events, this facility will be uninhabitable within a quarter hour. It is statistically unlikely the Foundation will be able to retake and salvage Site-20.”

“Where are 053 and 682?”

He showed you another corridor, and your heart fell. The burning man was either stalking them, or simply going in the same direction, but either way, you were cut off from reaching them unless you went straight through the anomaly.

“How do I get there?”

“I will guide your way.”

The room plunged into darkness, and with a low rumble, one of the heavy doors slid open, the corridor behind it illuminated with a trail of fluorescent lights. It was like the lit catwalk to 682’s cell, an unwelcome reminder.

After tucking 079 away, you took off down the corridor, making sure 049 was right behind you. The rifle you’d taken off the MTF body grew heavy in your hands as your strength continued to flag, and eventually you left it behind. You doubted bullets would harm an anomaly like 457 anyway.

It was easy to pick up his trail, the corridor blackened and still burning like a tunnel to Hell. The heat coming from the flames was considerable, but it wasn’t scorching like you expected, and you stepped closer.

049 took a quick step toward you, his eyes wide with fear at what you were about to do, but you walked into the flames before he could stop you. The fire licked your feet and legs, but it didn’t burn you or your clothing.

You looked back at 049 and held out your hand to him.

“Trust me?”

He glanced from your hand to your face, and his eyes were far warmer than the flames.

“Always.”

He took your hand and walked into the fire. The flames caressed his robes but didn’t burn them, and he followed you through the path of destruction, trusting that you would keep him alive with a single touch.

Now instead of following 079’s hallways of light, you followed 457’s corridors of flame, until eventually you rounded a corner and the burning man was there. He had no features to speak of, his entire body glowing white-hot, but even without eyes you sensed his gaze as he slowly turned to face you.

You paused, swallowed down your nervousness, and continued forward. The entity remained in your path, the flames around him hungry. You were forced to stop in front of him, and you gripped 049’s hand harder. You knew you were hurting him, but at this range without your protection, he would burn to ash within seconds.

457 continued to stare at you, but it didn’t feel like a challenge. It felt like he was waiting for you. You couldn’t explain the irrationality of it, but that thought scared you more than burning.

“Move.”

For a moment, you didn’t think the anomaly would listen. You could erase him, just as you’d done to 173, but you couldn’t do it while touching 049. You’d learned that hard lesson with the anomalous patient. But if you released 049, he would die.

Another few seconds passed, and you considered turning back, but then the anomaly stepped aside. He was letting you pass.

Come with me, you could almost sense the anomaly saying. Come with me, and we will burn it all.

No, you thought. I already have.

You walked past the burning man, and the heat that radiated from him ran hotter than any of the flames at your feet, and you wondered if you reached out if he would burn you.

But you held onto 049 and made it through the fire. 457’s gaze lingered on your back until you were out of sight. Neither of you stopped until you reached the corner where 682 and 053 were trapped against a containment door sealed shut. From the deep gouges around the edges of the door, 682 had tried to claw it open but lacked the strength of his full size to do so.

682’s mane was singed, but otherwise they were unharmed. The girl leapt and hugged you around the legs, and there were tear-tracks through the soot on her cheeks. Smoke filled the corridor ahead of the fire, and it burned your eyes as it clogged your throat. The fire might have been anomalous, but the smoke was from the burning of real material.

You coughed and held the neckline of your gown over your mouth, but the others weren’t affected by the rapidly darkening air. It was another reminder that despite your abilities, you were still very human.

“Hold onto my robes. I shall need both hands.”

You looked up in time to see 049 pull the scroll case out of his robes. You didn’t know how the parchment, presumably a map, was supposed to help you escape, but 049 seemed confident it worked by touch.

Hooking one arm around 053 and hoisting her onto your hip, you held your other around the crook of 049’s elbow. 682 sunk his claws into the hem of his robes and said, “Do not fail, crow.”

049 ignored the reptile’s verbal barbs and actual claws, and rolled open the scroll until it was held aloft between his hands. On the other side it looked like a blank canvas of old parchment, but on this side, it displayed a view of the night sky, constellations twinkling and nebulas swirling.

Your head ached, but you didn’t look away even when the vertigo threatened to tip you forward and swallow you whole.

And then you jolted forward, sounds and colors and air bleeding together and rushing past. You held 049’s arm tight against your cheek, scared if you lost your grip you would be tossed into the whirling cosmos around you.

And then you fell. Not far, maybe a foot or two, but it was enough for your knees to buckle and throw you to the ground. You immediately curled so you wouldn’t land on 053, but your landing was soft, cushioned by something that littered the ground.

Leaves. Brittle red, gold, and orange autumn leaves.

053 darted out of your arms, squealing and giggling as she leapt into another pile of leaves. 682 spotted the girl and sat close by, licking his paws as if entirely unbothered, so you let her go and rolled onto your back, still trying to catch your breath. The chill air bit at your skin, but after the heat of 457’s destruction, it was welcome.

You must have been lying on some kind of natural forest path or trail, because the sky yawned above you, bordered by autumn-dressed trees. You’d forgotten how blue the sky was.

You let out a single laugh, quiet and disbelieving, and then a louder bark, and you covered your mouth but couldn’t stop giggling more. You felt drunk, heady and euphoric.

And then you looked to your left and saw him. The sun had just broken through the trees, and the morning light painted 049’s robes in dusky black, his face angled toward the sun as he closed his eyes, basking in the natural warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

You just… watched him. Far more mesmerized by him than even the sight of your newfound freedom.

049 out in the world should have felt like an unnatural thing, but he looked like he belonged here. A dark creature of the forest that bathed in the sunlight before it retreated to the shadows, a remnant of something ancient that was long forgotten by man.

He was beautiful. And the thing in your chest suddenly felt too enormous to name, but you knew its name, anyway.

As if he sensed the attention, 049 opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze softened, tender in a way that twisted your insides—

He doubled over. A pained noise wheezed from his chest, and then he dropped to his knees.

“Valens!”

You scrambled, not bothering to stand as you rushed on hands and knees until you reached his side.

“What’s wrong?!”

He shook his head, still bent over and holding his stomach. No… not his stomach. He was hiding his hands, cradling and shielding them.

“I do not know,” he said, breath trembling. “My hands…”

“Let me see them.”

He uncurled his back only enough to extend his arms, and you knew something was wrong. His hands had always appeared gloved in nature, thick and leathery, but now the skin was stretched, and in some places even ripped.

The makeshift bandages were still in place, and 049 suddenly ripped them off. But he didn’t stop there. He dug his fingers into the back of his hand, and you cried, “No, don’t!” but it was too late.

With a terrible ripping sound, he tore off the skin from the back of his hand. You prepared for a spray of blood, maybe to even see bone with how much he tore off, but that didn’t happen. There was skin underneath, a dark grey that was a shade lighter than his robes.

And it was smooth, not coarse and leathery like his hide. In his other hand he held the strip of old skin, and it looked like nothing more than a torn piece of glove.

You could only stare as he continued to rip off the old pieces of hide, first from one hand and then the other, shedding his old skin to reveal fresh skin beneath. 049’s posture relaxed the more skin he removed, and after he’d stripped off the old hide completely from both hands, he let out a small sigh of relief.

You hesitated, and then gently took one of his hands, cradling it in yours as you examined it. It looked, and felt, like an actual hand, aside from the dark grey tone and some rough patches on his knuckles and the backs of his hand, reminding you of the scaly feet of a bird. You could see the details along these rough patches, and when you traced the thin lines along his palms, his fingers twitched. He was sensitive.

He was also healed, no sign of the deep gouges dug into his palm by the 178-2. Along with the grey color, the other noted difference curled from the ends of his fingers. His glove-like hands had been without fingernails before. Now, each finger was tipped with a dark talon, short and curved.

“What… what is this?”

“I believe the map caused it.”

“The map?”

“Yes. Though I do not know how.”

He didn’t resist as you continued to examine his hand, his own expression curious and not nearly as worried as you felt.

“Look.”

He followed your gaze. The smooth skin stopped at the sleeve of his robes, but just beneath the hem was a new pattern. Beginning at his wrists, small, delicate black feathers grew from his skin.

“I assumed he was lying.” He spoke softly, almost windswept, like someone had delivered him terrible news.

You traced your thumb over the feathers lining his wrists. They were soft, glossy, and slightly puffed up at the stimulation of your touch.

“035 tells the truth when it suits him.”

“Yes. He has not changed in that regard.” 049 gently withdrew his hand from yours, flexing his clawed fingers once before pulling them closer against his chest. The girl had moved in close, at first frightened by 049’s displays of pain, and then curious as soon as she spotted the claws.

“I think they’re neat!” she chimed in, her smile wide and dimply.

“They’re small.” 682 shuffled over, and he was big enough now that he towered over you from where you sat on the ground. “But at least your actions were not completely incompetent, crow.”

“I think he just complimented you.”

682 snorted and walked away, his thick tail missing your head by a narrow margin. 053 chased after him, unmindful of the cold, but you were starting to shiver, and your breath clouded the air.

“Come. We should get settled in.”

049 rose to his feet easily, the previous pain gone, and even the chest wound and treated injuries didn’t seem to bother him. Unlike the wounds on his hands, these still remained, and you planned to bandage him as soon as you could.

“Settled… in? Wait, you know where we are?”

“Of course I do. I brought us here.”

You stared at him blankly, but he only smiled with his eyes and extended a hand down to you. And then he paused, realizing the hand he offered was now tipped in claws.

But the talons looked blunt, like they were meant for gripping rather than tearing, and they didn’t bother you. In fact, when you took his hand and his warm, smooth palm pressed against yours, you might even like it.

You barely gained your feet before your knees buckled again, and gentle hands caught you on the way down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You tried to make your legs work, but they seemed to have quit. “More tired than I thought.”

And in pain. Every part of you had found a way to ache, but the soreness in your abdomen made each breath uncomfortable. Without another word, 049 hoisted you into his arms as easily as if you were a doll, and his expression brightened at your embarrassed one.

“You should be off your feet and resting,” he said. “Do not protest, I am your physician.”

Your mouth popped closed. With the bag in your lap carrying 079, 178, and 035, and 682 and 053 somewhere ahead of you, you’d somehow survived the containment breach and had more anomalies with you than when you’d started. You didn’t know how it was possible, how you and 049 managed to escape together, and some part of you didn’t think it was real.

But you rested your cheek against his shoulder, and that felt very real, as did his arms hooked under your knees and back. The gentle quiet of the forest and the cold autumn air was almost shocking compared to the climate controlled, fluorescent-filled artificial environment of the facility.

“Where are we?”

“Southern France. Far enough away from where the Foundation captured me that I am confident they do not know of its existence.”

You saw your destination, what drew the girl and reptile so far ahead of you. A cabin sat nestled in the trees, fallen leaves collecting on the slanted roof, the windows dark and vacant where they were set into wood walls.

Rustic was an understatement; it looked at least a hundred years old, but still in remarkably good condition.

“What is this place?” you asked and looked up at him.

His answer was warm, fond, and his gaze on you equally affectionate.

“Home.”

Next Chapter

[echantedtoon]

Obsessed

(WARNINGS: Some toxic relationship stuff mentioned, death, possession with the mask, yandereish tendencies, possibly some innuendos, Dyo IS his own warning, implied past spicy times, technically the guy he's posessing is dead, blood mentioned, pregnancy, etc.

Inspired by @wolveria 's works and a random anon ask she had gotten.)

What was it that drew out the obsession in living things? 

Could it be a taste for something they never had before? A new sudden interest in something? A feeling of familiarity that they wanted to cling onto? Or was it just a sudden snap in the brain that screamed 'must have it'? She hadn't the foggiest clue. The very reason she was here was because she was fascinated with the thinking of the inhuman and call of the unnatural. Such was the reason that brought her here to this situation in the first place. 

She shouldn't have let it happen. GOD she shouldn't have let it happen! What was she thinking?! It was stupid. She knew better than to be lured in by sweetened words and let herself become entangled in something else that was only to be the downfall of her own self, safety, and sanity.

"Hey, Reid." The sounds of a voice snapped her back into the world from her stupor as she looked up from the papers standing still in her hands and towards the smiling face of a fellow female employee. "I heard you're about to go on maternity leave. We're gonna miss seeing you around the office."

Despite the feeling of dread pooling in her guts she managed to voice a steady tone and a smile despite her shaky hand. "Yeah. It's better for me since I don't need all the stress."

Luckily the fellow scientist nodded without any arguments. "I hear you. This place can give you enough stress to give you permanent anxiety. It's probably why they took you off the zero Three Five's case to avoid anything bad happening to you." With a small sigh she crossed her arms. "I don't know anyone who'd willingly just surveillance the thing."

The thing. The mask. 

The literal reason she was in this situation in the first place. The very thing she was avoiding at all costs. God why did she allow hik to sweet talk her into intimacy. She was lucky to have been able to avoid the place without much argument from the higher ups due to request. What request? Simple. A request to transfer to a less strainous job due to her pregnancy. 

The problem that had arisen because of the stupid thing.

It was a stupid mistake that shouldn't have happened. How was she supposed to know that it was possible for it to- ..God. if anyone found out then she'd be terminated immediately if she was lucky. Interrogated and then forced to be locked away until her child was taken away for them to do who knows what to them at worst. The only good thing to come from this is the fact that no one would have any suspicions to the baby's origins. After all how could they suspect it?

He was a mask.

A very dangerous mask, but one without a body and that's part of the reason why she couldn't believe the situation she was in. If it wasn't for the literal pregnancy attached to her then she probably would've written everything off as a bad fantasy. However it was impossible to write off cravings, constant morning sickness, and the literal swell of her abdomen as a figment of her imagination. 

"No. I guess not...Are you here for the transfer order for scp zero seven four?"

She nodded. "Yep. I need the orders to get started." At which she stepped forward and held out her hand. "Do you have them?"

With a nod she just held out a single piece of officially documented paper, signed by a higher up with their stamp of approval. "Here. Don't loose it. Im drowning in enough paperwork and insurance coverages as we speak."

With a smile on her face she received her part and departed. "Thanks, Reid. Oh. Congratulations on the baby by the way."

She simply held up a hand back with a smile on her face that dropped the moment the other woman left before she sighed, leaning back in the uncomfortable office chair. Hand coming to lay on the problem that was the unwanted passenger currently here for the ride. 

"You're going to be the death of me."

~~~~

Like the flashes of hellfire red lights flashed upon the freed and bloodthirsty creatures that reigned supreme of the mesh of concrete and steel that once made up their confined cells of torture. The whirring of alarms sounded overhead instead of warning the innocent of humans seemed more of a praised laugh to announce the arrival of the manic chaos that was to befall all.

Blood. As red as the lights and as copper as the metal was the main decoration for the parade of monsters descending through the halls and disemboweling the humans and in some cases each other. No one cares. Certainly not the beasts that now ran ramped with adrenaline and bloodlust in their minds.

An inhuman screech went off into the night as a stronger forced ripped away arms from torso. Eyes turned and stared into the bloodlust abyss of bloodshot eyes. A mix of shrieks echoed out into the darkened night above. So much blood spilt in that night that it might've even spilt into the moon illuminating red down on everything.

R E D

The color clouded vision beyond reasoning. Inhuman yells of pain and murder carved way by him. One by one. Body by body. Life by life. Flesh torn from bone. Blood cleaved from muscles. Arms from torso. Limb from limb. He was a beast tonight. The thirst for blood was not just a want but a need. For tonight he was not a man. Not a demon. Nor anything else comprehendible by human thought.

~~~~

A wave of relief from the stress after so long was finally hers after her request for the maternity leave was approved and sent to her almost right away. Almost as quickly for her request months ago to be transferred to a less strainous job. But she supposed the foundation didn't want the reputation of putting a pregnant woman in danger on their heads on top of the amount of questionable things that they already had done. 

As for zero Three Five, she at first didn't worry to much. He couldn't get up and walk around on his own and while he could've noticed her ..condition, she transferred from his case before she began showing and didn't tell him, so she was confident that he hadn't any idea of this. Which would be better in the long run. Who knows what might happen if he found out. 

Apparently there was quite the tantrum throwing down his way anyways. The timing of her leaving and him acting out wasn't a coincidence, she was smart enough to know that but that wasn't really a priority right now. Her main priority was trying to figure out what to do about this. Her first thought was possibly just giving it up to adoption services which still hadn't really left the table. After all it might be better id there was as least minimal contact between this child and it's 'Father' as possible. 

When she first found out about this it was panic and anxiety. Still is but less than it was in the beginning. She had the ridiculous fear that she might be forced to birth a mask but that was impossible and just the paranoia speaking. The sonograms of the child weren't actually any different than that of a normal infant but that didn't mean anything was normal yet. Would it possess any keter level abilities like the mask? Was it just a normal human regardless of its parentage? Would they get any physical features like that mask? Though there wasn't anything physical to really take after. Perhaps they'd be extremely pale like the white porcelain Zero Three Five was made of but she could just easily just say it was Albinoism to detour any suspicions. She already had a reasonable excuse if anyone asked about the father.

"He was just a fling I had. He doesn't know and honestly I don't know who he is."

No one really suspected. People had one night stands all the time and several of those resulted in unexpected pregnancies. So why would anyone give any grief if it just happened to her? Sigh. She really needed a break. The next few months off was exactly what she needed to help her figure out what to do about this. 

~~~~

The darkness both swallowed him up and closed off the ways both in front and behind him making each end of the pathay difficult to see with the already limited vision he had. Heightened senses were one thing he had been thankful to have retained from years of familiarity to his body and mind. Closing off all senses to be more enlightened to one's world in a different light. Each echo of his footfalls ringing in his mind as the airways of his body forced himself to absorb more oxygen out of the air and each heart beat thudding against his ribcage. Throbbing sensation reaching from his head to his feet with every passing second he was surrounded by the buzzing swarm of danger. Enlightened by the stings of fear. Danger. Dread. Doom. Like many wasps penetrating his most basic human emotions and swelling them up to the point of combusting dangerously all over the peeping, teasing darkness.

The soft silk touch of his host's clothes met his hand. It was easy to move...Easy to will it to move running along the soft fabric to something more smooth and hard. Both basic instinct wasps forcing him to do something so familiar to combat the combustible feelings. To grab at which to protect him and cut it away like a sickeningly sweet cake of misery and despair. Instincts wailing to protect himself from dangers he had yet to see. Had yet to reveal themselves to him. Hopefully to be chased away by the sounds of the bullets of the gun and held out into the darkness to cut it's tainting self down a notch. That his willpower will always prevail over it. Each burning room slowly passing a tainting gateway. Each with a promise of safety behind it and perhaps even it had occupants inside using it. taking up it's offering of safety from the darkness now dead to the world highly unaware of the masked host just roaming outside arm outstretched and staring down the one that dared teased him the most with it's fake promise of protection.

The host approached slowly, one hand still gripped at his gum, fingers strumming against the metal handle as if his nerves where itching to use it. Yet he remained stoic despite the clouds that where casting gathering to add to the storm inside his head. Upon closer inspection the scalpel in the door was too purposeful for this to be an improvised job, this job - this attack, this entire get away had been just a waste of his time so far. His eyes narrowed or would've if he was capable of that.

"Dam it. Where is that damned exit?!"

A inhuman scream tore through the area drowning out the other terrible screams and blaring alarm.

The blaring alarms hid well the sounds of his footsteps and the chaos of murder around him covered the intention of the desire and want which was the driving force of the shared minds that combined with one another to become one.

The screams rang into the air as his pathway was made, him walking through its wake of cadavers long since dead. The morbid sight earning a slight chuckle despite his annoyance with the situation. 

"It looks as if that lizard got here before I did."

Terror. Fear. Danger. Get away. Get away! All the pathetic ones scream. Like a car accident, terrible yet one couldn't look away from the incoming storm of tragedy. He was so used to such actions as he came with the reputation. The woman who continued to shriek in his way meant nothing to him. She was merely just an obstacle. An annoying hindrance to what he wanted-..No

.

What he N E E D E D.

And he always dealt away with obstacles. The old body was easily chuckled to the side, he not caring about where it landed or how the other ended up. Screaming. A true testimony to his being. Power. Force behind it and he knew that as screams filled out his eardrums and killed him into the comfortable lullaby of chaos incarnate. Arms rising and head tilted back in display for the passionate dance of bodies scattering blurred to his vision footfalls thundering like a rain dance of nature. A true place a demon would find peace. Eyelids fluttered shut as the sounds blurred out around him until he heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. But-

WHAT HE NEEDED WAS THAT DAM EXIT!!!

The fact that there was a lack of an exit messed with his irritation much more than it usually did but there was more urgency than before because of someone else who especially didn't like him found out about this little problem he'd gotten himself into and got there before he did...Well even just the thought of it happening was enough to drive him to insanity and rage and many other emotions he didn't want to unpack right now and didn't really have time to. As he paced past rooms with destruction already painted on it's walls and with the distant sounds of -... Footsteps drowned out by screams and alarms stopped in their pacing to back track. Poking his borrowed host's head inside a room. It looked like an office. The owner of which was long since dead slumped over against the wall. But what caught his interest was the thick window. Usually reinforced but now broken to the outside.

An exit and a new host all in one place.  How convenient.

"Hm. I think I'll take what's behind door number one.~"

~~~~

The peace of mind she'd gotten for once was short lived. As if she couldn't catch one break in this entire process. A breach. Just what she needed in this time. Her only saving grace was that she wasn't there when it happened. That probably would've been much more disasterous than actually taking this damned problem home with her. It was only inviting trouble...But she shouldn't worry, she told herself. Her home was a decent distance away from the sight and by the time she was due back most of the staff would probably be on leave anyways until repairs were made during damage control. 

So for now she'd relax and get comfortable on the couch and worry about just figuring out what to do next. Not as if she could do much with the equivalent of a bowling ball attached to her middle. Not until she was finally through this. 

However fate would've had other plans as they usually do.

When something from the outside of the room would've made their way in. Without warning the doorknob opening and swinging open by itself jolting her from where she lied, and horrified fear enveloped her when the body of her neighbor who was no more. Dramatically posed like a puppet following invisible strings.

"Honey!~ I'm home!~"

[tallovines]

I LOVE WRITING TALES FOR MY STUPID LITTLE SCP OC X CANON SHIP 😈😈😈

[nerd-nut]

I feel like SCPs would undergo a zoochosis like event after being in containment for so long. They would go insane right? Especially SCPs that are highly aware of their containment. (049, and 682 for example.) It would include slow behavior change, desperate need for stimulation and repeated stress relieving activity. Rocking back and forth, pacing, talking to oneself etc. I don’t think that the personnel of the SCP Foundation would do much to help these SCPs, probably wanting to see the SCPs behavior when kept like this. I’m assuming that this would eventually make the SCPs have a violent outburst or something along those lines. Anyway I’m writing fics about it. 049 is first. Follow and stay tuned if you’d like to read them!

[jtweird-brainrot]

If anyone from the SCP Universe were, do a "hear me out" type of thing? What do you listen that's where they have to say?

Interesting question

I think Abel would of course go for strong warrior heroes from mythology, like Gilgamesh and Achilles

Cain would probably have wise kind hearted characters, idk a good example of the top of my head

049 would go for any doctors or surgeons of history and/or legend, like Hippocrates and Asclepius

Jack Bright, 035, and Clef would go for the weirdest most out of pocket shit you could imagine

682 would just say “human extinction.”

[butch-enjoyer]

Horrible scp idea!

It is a soup store that sales canned soup, but once you buy a can, clothes come out of the tin and they all are good quality and very durable. They are good tho but they are cover in soup.

[insomniac-djmm]

Ok so I knoww he wasnt in your list but will you perhaps do hcs for Dr Simon Glass? If not, just delete the ask! No hard feelings <<33

If you do, could I request some Glass x Reader platonic cuddling hcs?

He is my #1 comfort character lol

Again, if you don't write for him feel free to ignore/delete

Thank you for your time, and I wish you good health!

Oh my gosh! I am so, so sorry! I knew I was forgetting somebody when I wrote my list, but I just brushed it off! Now I know who I was missing! Thank you SO much for bringing that to my attention, I do write for Dr. Glass, haha. He's one of my favorite SCP characters! I've fixed my list to include him. I hope you enjoy this! <3

Dr. Simon Glass Platonic Cuddling Headcanons

• Life at the SCP Foundation is hard.

• Anybody who's been there for at least an hour knows that.

• Dr. Glass was like a ray of sunshine in the place, and he picked up on other people's emotions very easily.

• So, when you'd been having a particularly rough day, he easily caught onto it.

• And it didn't take him long to address it either.

• "Are you okay? You look... down. Everything alright?"

• Maybe you said, "no..."

• Maybe you let it out and immediately began venting about your day.

• Or maybe you just silently shook your head.

• Either way, Simon, being your best friend, knew exactly how to fix that!

• Cuddling!

• Simon is like a teddy bear.

• Obviously a bit thinner than your conventional teddy bear, but a teddy bear nonetheless.

• Super soft, super sweet, a great cuddler.

• He smells like dryer sheets, the good kind.

• He likes cuddling with a blanket over the both of you :)

• Constantly making sure you're comfortable.

• "You okay? Just wanna make sure you're comfy."

• He likes squeezing you a bit tighter occasionally. What a sweetheart!

• He falls asleep while cuddling, sometimes tho-

• And yes, he does snore a bit-

• Not loud enough to be bothersome, but it's one of those things where you can't help but giggle when he starts doing it.

• Every so often he'll ask again,

• "You alright?"

• He cares about you, and he wants to make sure you're okay.

• He likes petting your hair, too :)

• But what if you fell asleep?

• It'd take him a bit to notice if you don't snore.

• Once he notices, he'll chuckle, carefully move away, and pull the blanket over your shoulders.

• Like the respectful guy he is, he'd quietly turn out the lights and leave your room, making sure to shut the door behind himself.

• "Sleep well... I hope you're feeling better when you wake up."

[dzthenerd490]

SCP: HMF Foundation Personnel - Doctor Meri Clef (SCP-166)

Name: Meri Clef

Titles: SCP-166: Just a Teenage Gaia/ Level 4 Doctor of the Foundation / Researcher of the Fire Suppression Department - Psychology and Therapy Division/ Advocate of the Ethics Committee.

Skills: Possesses an extremely calming voice / Very patience / Very Compassionate / Very Understanding / Good at suppressing her emotions (not always a good thing) / Can manifest flowers from anywhere / Plants grow fresher and healthy around her / Possesses vast knowledge in all areas of gardening / Is Much, MUCH stronger she looks / Hates violence but is great as self-defense / Very fast / Possesses lots of endurance / Always knows how to deescalate a situation / Possesses excellent hearing / Is nocturnal

Weaknesses: Can get mad very easily / Sometimes suppresses her emotions too much / Not a pacifist but despises violence even necessary violence / Tends to put the feelings of others before her own (not always a bad thing) / Very sensitive to loud noises / Easily blinded by flashing lights.

Famous Quotes: “My faith is what helps me keep going.” “I have people who need me and if I’m being honest, I need them too.”

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SCP: HMF Art Collection Hub

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