#scp foundation fanfiction

[sovengardeswag]

The Pines Files

Chapter 4: The Haunting of Katherine Stavros

An ex-SCP comes back to the foundation, and Mabel and Dipper learn that the files are even less trustworthy than they thought

Hey quick note, this is where the references to and mentions of child abuse start, it's not explicit, but as I say in the AO3 tags, it's there. There is also a singular mention of miscarriage though no one actually has one. I will also be trigger tagging here on tumblr. Please take care of yourself.

The sun was high and bright in Alaska, the several-hour twilight breaking into proper day. The weather was comfortably in the 70's and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. This really had been an excellent decision, Katherine thought. There was plenty of work to do here, out in this place, but it was good work. No one was out here to tut over her quarterly performance, no one was here to beg to keep their job after some bullshit merger, and there was no one to tell her they were above the rules. There was just the wilderness, her animals, her daughter, and Steve the farmhand. As she finished the last drops of coffee, she went back inside. She saw Steve groggily coming downstairs, the tall blond rubbing his eyes as she told him, "You came in late again, Steve."

"Woah, sorry Mrs. S. I swear I'm not hungover or anything."

"I know, just try to not be so loud. Lacy needs her sleep and I don't want the door slamming late at night."

"You got it." He went to pour himself some coffee as Katherine went up the stairs, knocking on the door and asking, "Lacy, honey, you up?" When there was no answer, Katherine checked the knob, it was unlocked. She couldn't help but smile at that. Lacy finally felt safe in this house. It also told her that all that work she put into looking into Steve paid off. He was a good kid, a little distracted, but respectful. Either way, she headed into Lacy's room. Being careful to not startle the little girl, she turned on the light before approaching the bed. "Come on, sleepy head, it's morning."

Lacy groaned and turned over in her bed before sitting up, holding her fluffy pink blanket close. She wrapped it around herself, not complaining about being woken up, "Ok."

"You sleep good, honey?"

Lacy shook her head, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself, "Uh-uh."

"Oh no, baby, what happened?"

"I had a nightmare, there was a scary man there and he said weird things."

"Was the scary man your father?"

She shook her head.

"Was it Steve?"

She shook her head again.

Katherine sighed, stroking the girl's straight, blonde hair, a stark contrast to her own curly, black hair. Lacy's pale skin was a contrast too, though not as stark, against her olive skin. "Well, either way, your dad can't hurt you anymore, he has no idea where you are. And if Steve says or does something that makes you uncomfortable or unsafe, you come straight to me and I'll deal with him, you got that?"

"Yes, Kathy."

Oh, oh no, back to Kathy. She must have been utterly rattled. She helped her out of bed and told her, "Well, you just get dressed and washed up and I'll show you the calves and we'll feed the chickens and we'll get some ice cream after the tractor supply store and dinner."

"Does that mean I don't have to do summer reading?"

"Don't push it, Lacy."

"The other homeschool kids don't do summer reading."

"The other homeschool kids didn't miss as much as you have," well, more like they hadn't fallen off track like she had. Either way, she told her, "I'm making biscuits, so hop to it."

Lacy finally let her blanket fall and nodded, locking the door once Katherine was out. Once downstairs, Katherine set to making biscuits and asked Steve, "Could you watch the house while I'm gone today? I need to go to the tractor store and I'll also be getting Lacy some dinner."

"You got it," he said, taking the sausage from the fridge to help out. "Mrs. S, did I scare Lacy?"

"Were you eavesdropping, Steve?"

"No, no, you just took a while to get back is all." He started to fry up the sausage, not looking at her.

"Well, no. What you need to understand is that Lacy has been through a lot and what sets her off won't always be predictable. She had a regular bad dream is all. If it was something you did, she'd tell me."

"'S good to know."

"Oh, and Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Please stop calling me Mrs, we've been over this."

"Sorry Mr-" Steve stopped himself, "Sorry Ms. Stavros." He made sure to put emphasis on the Z sound.

"Thank you."

After breakfast, it was time to get to work. Lacy fed the chickens while Steve collected eggs and Katherine made a count of all their supplies. A quick affair if ever there was any, but necessary. When the list was done, the real work started; getting the cows out.

Katherine Stavros was not a dairy baroness by any means. her herd was a grand total of 20 heads of cattle, 10 cows, and just as many calves. They used to have a bull, but he had to be sold off once the job was done, so to speak. Either way, when the barn was opened, the cows and their calves came running out, frolicking in the sun. Steve couldn't help but laugh as he asked, "Have a good night, ladies?"

He was met with contented moos, as if the ladies were answering him, the calves stopping to sniff him as they often did before he went into the barn to check the feed and milk stalls. Katherine made sure the girls were all accounted for in the fields, the calves well fed. As she did, she called out, "Make sure to set some milk aside for us, Steve!"

"Got it, Ms. S!"

And Lacy sat in the truck bed, reading as she watched the cattle go about their business, eating the grass and sunbathing while the calves nursed. She spoke up and asked, "Mom, why can't I pet the calves? They're so cute."

"Because you're small, baby. If one of the cows decides she doesn't want you near, there won't be anything you can do to stop her from trampling you. I'll let you start helping when you're older." She then called to the barn, "Steve! Brady needs his antibiotic shot! Get a lasso!"

"But I won't hurt them."

"They don't know that, honey. For all they know, you might be planning to eat a calf you come up to, and they're good moms, they'll do anything in their power to prevent that."

It was then that Steve arrived with the lasso, swinging it above his head before catching the red calf in question while Katherine got the injection ready. His mother lowed in anger the entire time.

Much of the day passed by doing chores. When those were done, Katherine kept track of the books while Lacy read and Steve knit. As the day became lighter, Katherine and Lacy got ready to head out, Steve still at it with his knitting. As they headed out the door, Katherine asked him, "Do you want anything from Tomato Yard?"

"Just some chicken alfredo."

"You got it."

The trip to the tractor supply wasn't anything special. Just some seaweed feed, and some medical supplies. Once it was loaded up in the truck though, Lacy said, "There's something I didn't tell you about the dream."

Oh no. Katherine stayed parked in the truck, asking Lacy, "What happened, honey?"

"The guy in my dream said weird things. Things that didn't sound like words, but he also called me a weird name, A'tivik. What does that mean?"

Well, Katherine wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that. She turned the key in the ignition and said, "Well, I don't know, baby. It sounds familiar but I don't know from where or what it means."

"Is it bad?"

Katherine felt uneasy about the name but told Katherine, "I don't think it is. Tell you what, why don't we look it up when we get home? It might just be your brain doing weird things."

"Ok."

But as Katherine drove, she continued to feel uneasy. Why was that bothering her? It didn't sound like anything real. It sounded like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel or something. And sure, Lacy was too young to be reading that, but it shouldn't be inciting that kind of nervousness in Katherine.

However, the thoughts faded as they got to the restaurant, sat down, and ordered spaghetti for Lacy, tortellini for Katherine, and Steve's chicken alfredo to go. Her thoughts drift to the more mundane, Lacy's curriculum, financials on the farm, and Steve. He had been hired seasonally, but he had done well, despite his slightly ditzyness. She could probably extend his contract, as discussed, and keep him as a farmhand in the off-season. It would certainly be helpful when Lacy went to in-person schooling. But there was one person's opinion she needed. "Lacy, honey, what do you think of Steve?"

"He's nice, he showed me how he knits and he lets me read his comic books."

"Oh, which ones?"

"Spider-Man. He keeps some from me, though, some red guy. I want to read them but he says they're too violent."

Katherine thought for a moment, there were a lot of violent, red, comic book characters, "What does he look like?"

"Kind of like Spider-Man, but he's got swords."

"Oh, Deadpool. He's right to do that."

But then Lacy blurted out, "Is Steve in trouble?"

Katherine raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Why would he be in trouble."

"Because we read them when we're supposed to be keeping an eye on the hoof guy, and when we need to keep an eye on the cows when the vet is checking them. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Lacy, no, don't worry, that's fine. I know Steve is just multitasking. Granted, I wish he was a little more subtle about it, but I knew."

"Oh."

"Mmmhmm, now, eat your breadsticks, the doctor says you're still underweight."

Lacy gladly grabbed another breadstick.

Though, now that Katherine thought about it, poor Lacy must have been lonely, if Steve was her one source of comic books and mischief. She needed to see about getting her into mainstream school faster.

They, as promised, stopped for ice cream on the way home. Things were fully calm. There was no need to fear Steve's job security or weird dreams. Katherine felt perfectly fine. That was until they pulled up to the house and the door was open. Normally, she wouldn't think much of it. Attribute it to Steve being Steve and grumble about the electric bill. But something felt different. A feeling in her gut that something was very wrong. Call it a trauma response, call it mother's intuition, she pulled a hunting knife out of the glove compartment and told Lacy, "Wait in the car, honey."

"What's going on?"

"Just stay, Lacy." She got out of the truck, not sure what to expect. Her house ransacked? Her sparse jewelry gone? Lacy's one safe space made unsafe yet again? A bunch of wild animals running amock? As she stepped through the door, she immediately gasped, dropping her knife.

On the floor of her living room, in the middle of the Alaskan countryside, was the body of one Steve Ivanov, naked, and lying in a puddle of his own blood. He had been placed in the fetal position by whoever had done this. Though he had his legs closed, she could tell he had been mutilated from the amount of blood on his thighs. She did not check just how badly, wanting the man to have a modicum of dignity in death. Instead, she looked at what else was done to him. She counted seven stab wounds, his throat had been slit. But then, she saw that the cuts on his chest looked like writing. Shaking, she got down on her knees and gently pushed him onto his back. He went slack, so fresh that rigor mortis hadn't even set in. The writing on his chest read, "Come home, A'habbat."

Flashes of images came to her mind then, making no sense and complete sense. Impossibilities and things she knew to be fact. And she screamed, gripping her head and pulling her hair. For she remembered ALL. Every horrid dream of that horrid figure, the feeling of his hands on her even after she woke up, the agonies and tortures that came after, the false saviors, being just a number for a full year, the electrical shocks, the doctors in white coats, the "treatment administrators" in orange jumpsuits, every single FUCKING pill they gave her so the terror would be fresh, the one time she woke up not to terror anew but to a doctor with a necklace (no, amulet, she knew the difference now) telling her that everything would be ok, lying that it was her first day there and they would keep her safe until they figured out how to help her. It was a hundred lifetimes of horror upon her. And not even just earthly horrors. She was A'habbat. She remebered that. She remembered a time before time when existence was agony. She remembered. And that was the worst torture of all.

When her screaming finally ended, she panted, her throat feeling raw. She had expected the Johnsons, who lived a full mile away, to come running to see what the racket was about. Instead of a kindly older couple though, a scared little voice came from outside, "Kathy? What happened?"

"Go back to the car, Lacy!"

"But-"

"Do as I say! Do not come in here!"

Lacy squeaked and got back to the pickup. Katherine would probably regret yelling at her later but she couldn't deal with her parenting mistakes right now, instead, she went to the linen closet and wrapped Steve in a bedsheet. She then rolled him all the way out to the backyard, into the compost pit, and covered it with as much dirt as she could. It was better than leaving him naked in an abandoned house at least.

She then went into Lacy's room and grabbed her go-bag. She checked that it had the essentials and grabbed Katie's blanket and teddy bear for good measure, putting the whole thing in the girl's hamper. She then went to her room and grabbed her own go-bag and hamper before stomping on the loose floorboard at the foot of her bed, pulling out the cash box and shotgun that were there, and putting those in her hamper too. She headed to the truck and dumped it all into the bed, pushing the feed and medical supplies out, taking the shotgun with her as she got into the driver's seat, first making sure the house was locked. Lacy was curled up in the front passenger seat, hiding her face in her knees. She lifted her head a little and asked, "Am I in trouble, Kathy?"

"No, Lacy, you didn't do anything. Just buckle up and stay calm, ok?"

"Does it have to do with me? Do we have to talk to the witness protection lady?"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with you. It has to do with me."

"Huh?"

Katherine ignored the question, just backing the car up and turning before pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and making a call.

"Hello? Katherine?"

"Hi, Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry to call you last minute but I had a family emergency and needed to head South. Can you do me a huge favor and turn off the generator for the main house and bring some supplies into the shed? And make sure all the animals are fed too. Just send me the invoice for their feed if we run out on my property."

"Of course, Katherine. How long do you expect to be gone for? And what about Steve?"

She choked up for a single second, "Steve isn't working for me anymore. As for how long I'll be gone, I have no idea. If I'm not back in a month, there's a key under the welcome mat and the cows' papers are in a cabinet file in my office for you to sell off the animals. Make sure they go somewhere nice."

"Goodness, Katherine. What happened?"

"My father had something come up, something serious. Just promise me."

"I promise."

With that, Katherine hung up and passed the phone to Lacy. "Take the sim card out of this, it's in the little flap on the left, throw it outside, and turn the phone off."

Lacy nodded, starting to do that before quietly asking, "Where are we going, Kathy?"

"Someplace that will keep us safe," or at least, she hoped they would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week since the project officially started. The turnaround time on the approval for this outing, and the creation of the Delta-Iota-Nu mobile task force, had been incredible, as they were already heading into the mines. Mason felt excited about the whole situation, nostalgic even. He also felt a certain amount of pride, leading the world's nerdiest mobile task force to the old, abandoned church and down the hole. It was almost funny seeing how nervous Katie was to go down into the unknown. Bright noticed and told her, "Hey, it's alright, this rope is the least of your worries," as they climbed down.

She shot back with, "That's exactly the problem!" Which got a laugh out of Dr. Gonzalez. Either way, as soon as everyone was down, they turned on their flashlight and started walking. As they did, Dr. Chen spoke into a tape recorder, "Expedition 1 into SCP-[REDACTED] mines, June 20. The shallowest level of the mines contains living specimens from the Cretaceous period trapped in sap."

Mason went to grab a sap sample while Dr. Chen kept talking, hearing him say, "Some specimens appear to be melting, hypothesized to be a result of global climate change. Melting specimens include a large female Tyrannosaurus Rex. Note: Request that Mu-Alpha-Epsilon monitor this specimen."

Mason looked at the offended Tyrannosaurus Rex and saw that it had its whole leg out now, where once it only had a toe. The beast's limb scratched the ground, attempting to escape its sap prison. He ran back to the group when she turned her eye to look at him.

As they went further, they saw more samples out of time, plants of all things. Dr. Chen spoke into his recorder again. "Despite a lack of sunlight, several Cretaceous era ferns have sprouted along the sap. Note: Test for UV radiation."

Mason took a picture of the ferns. It hadn't really occurred to him how weird it was that there were plants growing down here. Or how much light there was. Then again, he had been frustrated with Soos and worried about Mabel at the time. Not exactly the most observant of moods.

The deeper they went into the mine, the more sparse the sap became, and the more sparse the specimens became. The one sign of life at 100 meters below sea level being the bones of the pterodactyl family that had once been down here. Mason remembered how McGucket said that he had chewed through one of the hatchlings and, indeed, one of the skeletons showed signs of rib collapse. He took a picture as Dr. Chen spoke, "Anomalies appear to cease at this depth. Whether this is due to a lack of available food for living animals or the effects of the barrier are unknown."

Dr. Bright took that as a sign to move to the next part of the expedition, "Who has the drill?"

"I do," Dr. Gonzalez said, producing an electric drill from her messenger bag. However, instead of a regular drillbit, she attached a unicorn horn before handing it to Dr. Bright.

Dr. Bright tested the drill, squeezing the trigger a couple of times to produce a vrrp vrrp noise, and asked, "Are we away from the edge of town?"

Mason answered, "We are."

"Best not waste battery power on the wall, then." He crouched and drilled into the ground, producing a hole with no resistance from the ground. Dr. Chen described this as Katie helpfully sprayed it with red paint, "Marking the evidence, Dr. Bright."

"Love the initiative, Katie."

Dr. Pines then took a picture of the marker and all the ones that came after. Every 100 meters, they would drill at the bottom of the cave floor and find that the unicorn horn, tough as it was, went through the earth easily. The process became so mundane that Mason's mind started to wander. He thought of his and Mabel's D,D&MoreD "game" a few days ago. They had worked out a rather simple method over the years, he and Mabel. They had used a Mindflayer as the session's BBEG, and it used a globe of invincibility, to stop Mabel's Tabaxi from from learning its secrets. She got the gist of it pretty quickly, though she had griped about mindflayers in general. "It's literally just an alien," she had said. "Why does this game have aliens?"

When they got to the bottom of the mine, about UFO depth, Mason had half a mind to think that there was no bottom of the barrier, with absolutely no resistance so far. That it was just a bowl and that he was wrong. That was until he heard a snap and saw what happened when Dr. Bright tried to drill. He quickly took a picture before the shimmering ripples of arcane energy dissipated. That was a floor. That was definitely a floor. Dr. Gonzalez and Katie both immediately pulled tools out of their bags and started taking measurements. There were bits of unicorn horn all over the floor and Dr. Chen frantically took audio notes. Dr. Pines also dug through his bag, testing more materials. Shrink crystal, gnome hair, multi-bear claw shed, they all caused ripples. And he laughed, "Oh, what the hell? My first thought was right."

Katie wondered though, "How do you explain the lack of anomalies?"

"There's no food down here," explained Dr. Bright. "Living anomalies would have no reason to be down here and the mine was stripped a long time ago. Any anomalous minerals are top side already. Well, except the UFO." He looked at Mason as he adjusted his glasses, "Your hypothesis was right, Dr. Pines. How's it feel to be the man of the hour?"

"It, uh, feels pretty great to know I was right, actually."

"You know it does. It's a little early in our investigation but this is progress, how about we go for drinks?"

Mason smiled even more than he was before. His coworkers were inviting him somewhere. His boss was inviting him out for drinks. "Y-yeah! That sounds like a great idea."

They had to head to headquarters first, though, to clock out and decontaminate and write up reports, but after? They would have fun.

However, upon arrival at the base, there was a buzz in the lobby, a clamoring, and some yelling. Dr. Bright brushed past, since he had some authority, and the others followed out of curiosity. There, at the desk, speaking to security, was a woman in her 30s. She was holding a little girl's hand. Her daughter, most likely, but Mason noted that they looked nothing alike. There were some MTF agents, including Mabel, with tranq at the ready. If they were here, this couldn't just be a civilian.

Mason finally heard her speak, being so close to her, "Look, you have to believe me! No, I know you believe me, because you have the peanut gallery here instead of your no-good security staff! I know the "protect" part of your name is a sick joke but-"

Dr. Bright froze up as the woman, still holding the little girl's hand, went up to him, "You! I remember you! Tell them!"

Bright backed up, tucking his amulet into his shirt, "Ma'am, I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes, you do. I know you people took those mind wipe pills or whatever you call them, but I know you're a smart man, too, Dr. Bright! You were there for a year. Where do you think that time went?"

Dr. Clef, one of the doctors standing around, looked to Bright, "What is she talking about, Jack?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes, you do!"

The little girl tugged at her mother's sleeve and said, "Mom, I'm tired."

Mabel lowered her tranq gun and lifted her vizor, looking at the girl with sympathy. She then asked the mother, "Hey, Ms., is it ok if I get your kid a soda?"

Looking between her daughter and Mabel, the woman said, "Fine, but you better stay in my sight."

Mabel nodded and told the little girl, "Come on, a soda will perk you right up. How about a Cherry Pitt Cola?"

"Is it good?"

"Sister, it's so good that I make energy drinks out of it."

With the little girl away from the people pointing guns, the mother took a breath and started from the beginning, "My name is Katherine Stavros. You were there when I was SCP-231-7. I woke up again from those pills and you were there. You lied and said it was my first day there. And you were there the day I left. You made sure to lie to my parents too. That I was at an in-patient care facility for years. That I miscarried. You have to believe me."

Dr. Bright asked her, "When were you in our facility?"

"I was there for three years, from 2010 to 2012. I was a captive of The Children of The Scarlet King throughout 2009."

"Shit," Dr. Bright took off his glasses and rubbed his face as he thought very hard. It wasn't unusual for him to forget small stretches of time, being immortal and over 100 but, "I don't remember anything from 2011 to 2012. The last thing I remember before that was some sort of assignment change for something in the cult division and that's it." Definitely a possibility then.

There were whispers then. This was all way too suspicious and accurate to be a coincidence. Or at least, it was highly unlikely.

Clef went up to her and Katherine recoiled from him, a regular reaction even if she hadn't been through what she claimed. "Look, if you are who you say you are, and I'm not saying you are, you still can't stay here. You may have been through something anomalous, but you're not anomalous yourself. Not unless you had something happen to you again."

"I found a man dead in my home and a name carved in his chest made every memory of my torture and captivity come back. Don't go telling me that's nothing."

"I'm not saying it's nothing, what I'm saying is that unless you have evidence it was The Children and that you need our protection, then there isn't much I can do. And even then, we need to confirm your intentions with the ethics board."

"Ethics board?" Added Mason as he looked to Dr. Bright.

"Not many people know this, but SCP-231 is almost entirely under the purview of the ethics board. It's not classified, it's just not usually relevant."

Mason nodded as Ms. Stavros looked defeated, "So I'm just supposed to stay in a motel and hope they haven't caught up with me? So I'm just supposed to hope they don't take an eight-year-old and put her through everything they put me through? They called me by my past life's name, Doctor."

Mabel spoke up, "Well, what if they stayed with me?"

Both Bright and Clef looked at her in surprise. Neither of them knew her like Dipper did. Even after all these years, Mabel was still thinking of others. However, Dr. Cef said, "I appreciate your initiative, Agent Pines, but then we're back at the same problem. We can't approve protection right this second."

"I'm not offering as an agent, I'm offering as a concerned citizen. I'm seeing a poor lady in a new place with nowhere to stay and a little kid and I just want to help out. I just happen to have a lot of guns too."

"She's got a point Clef, she's not owned by the foundation, she can do things in her own house."

Both Mabel and Dipper cringed at the phrasing, but Ms. Stavros didn't notice, "Alright, that works." She then looked to the chairs where the little girl was drinking her Cherry Pitt, "Lacy, honey, come on, we're going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to Mabel's place was utterly uneventful. They had fone in Katherine's pickup, the woman stoic as she drove. Lacy had been buckled up in the front seat, Mabel next to her and Dipper awkwardly sitting in the backseat as he accompanied them. He had promised to fill his reports from home, it was fine.

Upon arrival toMabel's house, Dipper went to help the ladies with their bags, but Katherine stopped him, "Don't, Lacy doesn't like her things touched and neither do I."

"Alright, alright."

Honestly, he had only come here to make sure these two weren't cultists or from some other organization or something. Either way, both he and Mbael watched the two bring their stuff down. As Mabel led them inside, Katherine told her, "Thank you, by the way, for offering to help us. You're one of the few kind people I've met in that place."

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just leave you there."

Dipper walked in with them, still suspicious. He hadn't read every report, of course, but everyone read the censored version of the SCP-231 file as part of desensitization. If this woman was telling the truth, then that meant either that horrible document was fake or it was outdated. But he still had to check if she was lying. Sure she knew a lot, but that didn't necessarily mean she was telling the truth. That was why he asked, "So, uh, is Lacy the, you know," he struggled to find the words and settled on making a belly gesture.

"No, she's not," Katherine said in an annoyed voice like Dipper was stupid. "She's adopted. I'm not entirely sure I can have kids and she sure as hell isn't that one."

"You've had a baby, Kathy?"

Katherine glared at Dipper for a moment for exposing her like that before she told Lacy, "Yes, honey, but it was a long time ago."

"What happened to them?"

"They couldn't live with me because I was too young to take care of them and I didn't really want them anyways. So those people at the buildings are taking care of them."

"Oh."

Mabel took the opportunity to distract the child then, telling her, "Come on, Lacy, let me show you to your room."

"Ok!" Lacy followed Mabel happily, already trusting her, certainly more than Dipper.

Katherine seemed a bit uncomfortable. "So, uh, how about I show you where everything is? Unless you wanna unpack first?"

"Somme guidance would help, yes."

Now, there wasn't a lot to show. There was Mabel's yard, a linen closet, a supply closet for Baby's stuff, a pullout couch, a bathroom, and Mabel's office/craft room. That whole time, the tense feeling was there. And it was when he was showing her the yard that he said, "Look, I'm sorry for saying that in front of your kid. I'm sure that if you wanted to tell her about her older brother someday-"

"That thing isn't her older brother."

"Come again?"

"That thing is not her older brother. Lacy has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. If it wasn't for what happened back home, she wouldn't know about any of this, and neither would I. I know you don't believe me, I don't expect you to, but don't involve my daughter in this again." She went quiet for a couple of moments before asking, "So, they were a boy?"

"I actually wouldn't know. I just took a guess."

"Oh." Another moment of silence. "Honestly, I don't even know what they are. They had to put me under and operate on me. Said they didn't want me to suffer more than I already had. When I woke up, I was completely fine, completely healed like nothing happened. The trauma responses didn't even kick in for a month. The foundation should really share that medicine with the rest of the world."

"I'll look into it."

"No, you won't. I appreciate your help, but please don't make false promises stop asking questions, for now at least. Lacy might overhear."

"And I get that, but you have to understand that this is a lot to go through. Breaking through foundation amnestics is rare, it's not exactly a memory gun made in a garage. Plus, for you to be that girl? It's a lot. And, well, your daughter clearly already knew; being scared of scientists is instinctual."

"It's not because you're a scientist, it's because you're a man."

"What?"

"Lacy's been through a lot and the only man in her life to treat her with respect or decency was just brutally murdered in her own home. You and the Scarlet King are not the only monsters that exist. It would do you good to remember that."

"Right."

Lacy then came out of the house and into the yard, telling Katherine, "Mom! Ms. Pines said we can go to the pet store tomorrow if it's ok with you! Please, can we go?" She was holding Baby in her arms, the 15-pound sow piglet slipping from her arms as it snuffled. "

"Yeah, we can, honey-pie. Let me help you with that first though."

Dipper ended up walking back home. It wasn't far but it gave him time to think. Something about this didn't feel right. Everything seemed to add up, she wasn't some operative from the Chaos Insurgency or Serpent's Hand operative. But what was bothering him? It was when he was pondering why a seemingly neutralized SCP had a need for secrecy that he realized. Bill. Bill had mocked him with the implication that 231-7 was still some little girl being tortured at some black site day after day, not a full-grown woman who was living a normal life and making a normal family. She had been that little girl at one point, clearly, but that had changed. Was he seriously trusting Bill's word over what was right in front of him? Was he seriously falling for an ex-triangle's tricks?

With a single-minded determination, he went into the apartment building, rode up the elevator, and slammed his door open. "Bill!"

"What? I was napping." Bill swam out of his hide and looked at Dipper, "What is so important that I can't even sleep?"

He kicked the door closed and said "You're going to tell me everything you know about SCP-231-7."

"Kid, you're smart, you have context clues, you don't want to hear about that."

"Not the containment procedures. You're going to tell me everything about the entity that either inhabited or currently inhabits Katherine Stavros. You're going to tell me everything you know about the seventh daughter of the Scarlet King."

Bill stared at him with a true blank axolotl stare before responding only with, "Shit."

previous

[definitelyyessnakedemons]

Yes, I'm aware that what most people are looking for in their SCP Foundation fanfic is Not a soft domestic moment between an old married couple, but i re-read There Is No Antimemetics Division a while ago and i'm still having emotions about it ("You were the best idea I had" really got to me, ok), so anyway here's this.

[papiliomame]

( Chapter 11, Things That Bleed by @thingsthatbleedfic, @artistfingers, @ghostly-cabbage, @kkachis)

A little late because I was busy with other stuff but now that I've read the newest chapter... that was just wow... goosebumps everywhere! I couldn't think about anything else today so I immediately went to work on this concept animation of Danny with his ghostly wail, to get that out of my system.

I imagined that he had partially transformed and that you could catch a glimpse of his true form for a short time.

Amazing chapter the wait was really worth it!

[dontforcemetologin]

watercolour is unbearably annoying.

but heres a guy.

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 52

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: "I couldn't let you die."

Chapter Warnings: Angst, blood, hurt/comfort

AO3

Spotify

Dull pain throbbed everywhere, attempting to coax you back to sleep, but you fought against it. The tangy smell of iron tickled your nostrils in an unpleasant way, and with Herculean effort, you forced your eyes open.

You were lying on your back, a blanket pulled over you and a pillow under your head. There was another blanket underneath you to shield you from the chill of the floor, but you didn’t recognize the storage room lined with shelves filled with sturdy metal boxes.

The lights were dim but steady—wherever you were must still have power. You tried to sit up and sensed something wrong as your stomach stretched strangely, tugging at your skin.

You were also naked. Your medical gown and leggings lay in a heap nearby, both stained with blood and the tarry blackness of 106’s layer. You lifted the blanket to gaze at your body, noting your skin was cleaned of blood and grime, but then you froze at the sight of your stomach.

Stitches lined your abdomen in rows, as if someone had pieced you back together. You gently touched the black thread and faintly recalled the impact of the bullets tearing through you, and of 049 lifting you into his arms before everything went dark.

049.

You lifted your head and spotted the dark space you’d missed before, mistaking the black shape for shadows.

049 sat hunched against the wall, his arms propped on bent knees. His breath came in and out in soft wheezes, the noise you’d mistaken for the AC trying to come back on.

He stared back when your eyes met, and there was a haunted look in their depths. You took in the rest of him, his gloves covered in dried blood, the satchel perched next to him with its clasps shut. He must have gotten his old bag while you’d been unconscious, and you were afraid how long that had been.

You were also afraid of what had put that look in his eyes.

“I…” He choked out the word, hesitant and fearful. You couldn’t remember ever hearing him like that. “I couldn’t… let you die.”

Every movement of your limbs was in protest, but that didn’t deter you from wrapping the blanket around your body and crawling the short distance into his lap with the last of your flagging strength. He caught you easily and pulled you the rest of the way, settling you on top of his thighs as he held you around the waist, careful of the injuries he’d stitched together.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled into the side of his neck, even though you had no idea if that was true. You didn’t know how many bullets he removed or how close you were to death, but that didn’t disturb you as much as how unsteady he was, his arms around you trembling. “We should… try to keep moving. I think I can walk.”

Walking seemed unthinkable at the moment, but you couldn’t stay. If you were caught, you and 049 would be separated again, and there was no way in hell you’d let that happen. Not after everything you’d done to get him back—

“I couldn’t let you die.” 049 trembled again, his voice small and lost. “I… couldn’t.”

“I know,” you said, trying not to let your own fear show. Something was wrong with him. He was spiraling. You leaned back far enough to look into his eyes, trying to get him to focus on you. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

The fear didn’t quite leave his gaze, but at least his breathing had slowed from the shallow wheezes.

“You cannot die,” he repeated a third time, but his voice held the steadfastness it was missing before. “For if you do, those around you meet the same fate.”

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

“That’s what you said to Puli in the interview,” you said. “When you insisted I had the Pestilence, and everyone would die horribly if I wasn’t cured.”

His gaze softened, sad at the edges.

“I may have been… theatrical in my fervor, but it was the truth, and still is.”

“But what does it mean?”

His pale gaze drifted to a point around your throat, as if gathering his thoughts. As badly as you wanted answers, it was nice to sit still for once, even if your gut throbbed with a deep ache. 049’s warmth under you, and his hands braced along your back, was soothing and a little distracting. Now that he was here with you, it was hard to keep your hands in check and not touch every part of him you could.

“If there is a deeper meaning,” he finally said, “it is beyond my knowledge. It is simply your nature. Your death would signal the destruction of all who remain in this facility, and perhaps a wider radius beyond that. It would accelerate decay and darkness, and leave the world broken and vulnerable.”

That was… about as clear as mud.

He must have seen your confusion, because he continued, “Your Foundation have devices in their possession that ‘heal’ breaches and strengthen the tethers of the laws of physics.”

“Reality anchors.”

His eyes creased in a pleased smile.

“Yes, precisely. You have glimpsed the breadth of your abilities, and it is much more than negating anomalous properties. The essence of your purpose is to nullify anomalies. Completely.” His words dropped into a grim tone. “As you have discovered with the grotesque statue.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Really didn’t like it. So you pushed forward and changed the topic back to something that didn’t feel so dangerous.

“What does this have to do with me dying? You said it would bring catastrophe.”

He tilted his head.

“You have already guessed the answer. You serve as a reality anchor. Your death would cause a… cascade failure in a localized area, rending reality unstable. Anomalies would spontaneously appear in the zone of influence, and any previous anomalies and humans that survive the untethered reality would most likely fall prey to these new, more violent entities.”

Your mouth had gone dry, your throat tight.

“I don’t understand. How do you know all of this?”

His tone was the equivalent of a shrug.

“It simply is. Every anomaly you meet will understand it. Even the Foundation knows of your kind, though they did not know you are among them. Even the Site Director guessed incorrectly at your designation. You already have a designation. All thirty-six of you share it.”

A shiver ran up your spine.

“There are… others? Like me?”

That warm smile again, like you were a quick student learning a difficult lesson.

“I’ve met only one other, but yes.”

“You met one?”

“A researcher, much like yourself. Perhaps I should not be surprised another of your kind found their way to this organization. We draw you to us, and we are drawn to you. It’s not a conscious choice, it’s simply what you are.”

“SCP-001.” At his widening eyes, you added, “That’s what 079 called me.”

The breath he expelled was heavy, as if something weighed on his chest, and his voice lost its previous firmness, becoming too quiet.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

You reached up and placed a palm on his hood, over where his cheek would be, and turned his head so he looked down at you.

“You didn’t. I’m alive. I’m here, because of you.”

Some of the fear faded from his eyes, but there was a lingering sadness you didn’t like. You couldn’t quite reach his forehead this time, so you pressed your lips to the side of his beak, lingering on the faint, comforting scent of him. You wished you could take the time to just be with him. It felt as if the breach had been going on for days, when in reality it couldn’t be more than a few hours.

This time when you pulled back, the apprehension had been chased away entirely, replaced by a different kind of darkness. A familiar one. You remembered it most vividly in the shower that was meant for planning escape and had ended up with you braced against the wall, 049 fucking you so thoroughly you’d forgotten your own name, only able to repeat his.

You averted your gaze, needing to stare anywhere that wasn’t his face. The only thing separating you was a thin blanket, something you were very aware of perched on his legs. Despite having been shot in the gut and gone through some kind of surgery, you felt surprisingly good. Good enough that, if you were someplace safe, you would have pushed that blanket aside, straddled his lap, and coaxed out his cock and made him forget his fears.

But you weren’t somewhere safe, and now you were fucking frustrated and horny and—

Your attention fixated on his chest. The rough hide of his skin was usually a dull, leathery texture, but something had caked itself across his robes. You sucked in a breath and carefully traced the outline of what were unmistakably bullet holes.

“Oh, no, oh God, you’re—”

049 let out a huff of air, like a chuckle, though you didn’t see anything funny.

“I have already removed them. Metal pellets aren’t enough to destroy me, though I admit, it was not a pleasant experience.”

“No, it’s not.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, fingers still tracing a wide circumference around the healing wounds. He should be fine if he could joke about the fact he was shot, at least.

“We can’t stay here,” you said. He gave a faint hum of agreement, but neither of you moved. One arm was braced against your lower back, and his other hand was on your upper arm, his thumb rubbing your shoulder in a soft, absent-minded pattern. You could easily fall asleep like this, though the sensation of his thumb stroking your bare skin where the blanket had slipped down was enough to keep one part of you awake.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your eyelids slipping closed against your wishes. “For saving me. Even if, you know… you had no choice because I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“Do you believe that’s the only reason I did it?”

His answer was a low rumble that tickled up your spine and pulsed in your abdomen, and you were very glad he couldn’t see your face at this angle.

“We should, uh, keep going.”

You tried to get up, and for a moment, 049 held you firm. You would fold like wet tissue paper if he decided to just keep you there, but instead he lifted you off his lap, rose to his feet with a wince, and picked you up like you weighed nothing.

You wobbled when he set you on your feet, and you tugged the blanket around your shoulders to keep it from slipping. Your face was still flushed, and that didn’t help, along with your nakedness.

“I—my clothes—”

Before you could finish, 049 unclasped his bag and reached in, rummaged around, and pulled out a stack of clothing. It was an exact replica of your smock, leggings, and underwear, but at least they were clean and whole.

“Thanks,” you said, carefully taking the stack with one arm while the other held up the blanket. Before you could ask—and you weren’t entirely sure you would have—049 turned away from you to give you privacy to dress.

You let the blanket drop and shivered in the cold air before pulling on the smock, careful not to bend or move too sharply to dislodge the stitches. Every time you glimpsed them your stomach flipped like a stormy ocean, and you were glad to cover them.

Once you were clothed, you pulled out your old gown, wincing at the rips and streaks of blood. You dug around in the pockets but found nothing. You searched the bloodied lab coat next, but that too was empty.

“Shit,” you muttered, turning out the pockets to be thorough. “I can’t find 714.”

“The jade ring?”

“Yeah, have you seen it?”

“I have not.” He didn’t sound especially upset by that fact. “These things have their own schedule to keep, but perhaps you will find it when needed.”

You peered at him, but your suspicions didn’t last. You couldn’t imagine 049 taking the ring and lying about it, and he was right. Anomalies did tend to have a mind of their own, even if they weren’t sentient or alive.

“I’m done.”

He didn’t turn around immediately, distracted by his arm elbow-deep in his bag. The combat boots you’d taken from the armory seemed in decent shape, and as you were tying the laces, 049 revealed what he was searching for.

“Is that…” You scrunched your nose. “A walking stick?”

It was more of a cane, sleek and black with a polished metal handle.

“I found it sequestered in this storage unit, along with my satchel.” He stared at it with no small amount of pride. “They took it from me when I first arrived at the Foundation.”

“Well, I’m glad you got it back.”

When you gained your unsteady feet, he held the cane out to you.

“Please,” he said, offering you the handle. “It would… comfort me if you used it.”

When he put it that way…

You took the cane from him, the weight of it sturdy and the handle cool against your palm.

“I had to leave the firearms behind, but with my satchel returned, we should not need such weapons.”

That was a scary thought, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what kind of nasty things he could pull out of that bag.

“Hopefully we won’t need it.” With a glance behind at the mess of bloodied clothes and surgical material, you turned to face him, a steadying hand on the cane. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Next Chapter

[vnikra]

THEYYYY

[tallovines]

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

[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]

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

[jtweird-brainrot]

PSA: JUST SO WE’RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE AND THERE’S NO CONFUSION

Agent [REDACTED] is a canonical character in the SCP Foundation who is mention in SCP-076 file

Agent DIMITROV is an OC that is BASED on Agent [REDACTED], he is made by @arson-jellyfish69 and @who-is-this-weirdo (art by arson)

In my fanfics, I call him Dimitrov, mostly because I like the OC and I don’t want to call him REDACTED.

But just so we all understand, I DID NOT MAKE DIMITROV NOR DO I OWN DIMITROV

He belongs to Arson and who-is-this-weirdo, NOT ME! I just write the dorky fics

Anyways, there’s your psa

[echantedtoon]

Hello There ~

BREAKING NEWS: Possessed mask attempts to seduce local female scientist with his egotistical personality!! When interviewing (anomalies-) witnesses they had this to say.

"Reid's tired of his shit", claims fellow scientist. "He's a simp but he keeps denying it."

"I'm going to break him to pieces and bury his retched being in so many places, not even the man claiming to be God in this damned prison can put him back together!," threatened an anomalist bird man whom wishes to remain anonymous.

More news after the break-

(I dunno anymore, I just got lazy with the summery. Once again thank you to @wolveria for giving me permission to write something based on her works. Again please check out her own Scp, Star Wars, and other works. They're all pretty good. He might be ooc because this is like the second ever time writing for him. Now for the obligatory warnings-

Warnings for Dyo possessing a guy, technically the guy he's possessing is dead so warnings for that, Dyo IS his own warning, and some possible innuendos.)

The clock upon the wall ticked down the seconds of the face to face reaction.

TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.

Footsteps thudded down the halls, a reinforced prison of concrete and metal intertwined.  The marching of soldiers towards some unforseen battle yet to take place. The significance of their duty weighed heavily on them all. Heavy battle gear weighing down their steps and weapons in hand as they stood at attention to the ones who would be arriving at the end of their possible lives.

The clock struck midday and the ticks and rocks chimed in time with the footsteps now coming down the hall past the row of armed guards. White Lab coats swayed from bodies as they walked determined down the hall to the very sealed door that awaited them.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We don't know what he's capable of. He's unpredictable!"

"I'll be fine. This has to be done and I'm the only one who was assigned to this task."

"Are you sure you want to go alone in there?"

"It must be this way. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"*sigh* Alright. But if you feel like you're in any danger at all, just give the word and we'll cut this interview immediately." 

"I know. Open the door."

She stood there and held her head high as the other scientist backed away as an armored guard was shaking as he reached out to typed the code into the side panel. With a heavy clicking sound, the fated gate sealing back the hell within. With a loud screaming creak and push from a guard, it fell open inviting her within before the evil got out. Her breath was shaking as she exchanged one last look with her fellow man before inhaling a shaking breath, steeling her nerves, and slowly starting to make her way into the belly of the beast.

The darkness which was inside was known for his sinister ways and even more evil character. The charming friendly exterior merely a facade for the wolf underneath. Gentle words sweetened by poison. Kind smile hiding sharpened teeth. Kind touches laced with sins gripped in fists. Halo being held up by devil horns. The wolf under sheep's clothing wasn't even a wolf but a monster twisted and exotic hiding within a wolf's fur to disguise itself as a normal menace. A monster who hunts but also feels and desires.

Who preys on innocent humans.

Who sees them as nothing but puppets. Dolls for his amusement.

Who's wicked whims knows no bounds. Who knows what this evil will do next?

"Why HELLO there!~ I've been waiting for you forever.~"

She could only feel her eyelid twitch in irritation from the mere sight of the entity before her. The heavy shutting off the door sealing behind her being the only answer to the voice.

The atmosphere was tense. Always was with this particular entity. The entire cell she stood before was proof of that as well. Reinforced with thick concrete walls so thick it'd stop even a bulldozer in it's tracks, the only none concrete surfaces within the square prison cell of walls were the thick iron door behind her and the reinforced glass window she was looking through in front of her. The only source of light being from a single light illuminated in the very center of the ceiling with just enough shine to let the entity in the center of the room be known.

"No 'honey I'm home'? Oh now that stings."

The man- No. The THING before her. A stolen body sitting at the table like he was as human as she was, however the mask he wore gave him away. Quite literally unfortunately. The bring white smile. The white porcelain mask of death being worn by a man's body long dead and now a sick meat puppet for the mask to control as he pleased. Black liquid oozing from the orifices and staining the skin like a sick canvas.

He had the audacity to sit down at the table placed in the room and clasped those stolen hands together to lay his head upon them. Wide permanent smile on it's face. One hand detached to waggle fingers at her. 

"Good evening, Ried.~ Have you come to perhaps relieve me from my chained despair?~"

Oh you wish. Is what she wanted to say but instead she inhaled and continued on over to the table to take a seat on the other side. "I'll be conducting a mandatory interview with the SCP designated as zero three five also known as 'the possessive mask.'" She did nothing but follow protocol ignoring his less than innocent demeanor and slowly taking her seat across from him. "This interview is taking place at sight twenty on December first twenty twenty four."

"Are you really going to give me this boring speech again?," he inquired tilting his head to a degree that was absolutely inhumanly possibly. Perhaps a shock factor? 

"Due to the nature of containment and history of said subject, your cooperation in these proceedings is required under penalty for any and all privileges-"

"Can we just skip to get the good part already?" The interruption was followed by a splay of hands gesturing everywhere. "It's always this boring front you all repeat like a broken record. Why don't you at least mix it up a little bit? Ask me something engaging like do I know what I'm actually doing when I get a body." She resisted the urge to fake puke as he leaned forward. "That's a yes for the record.~"

Her scowl must've been slipping through but she decided to take a breath and continue. Just remember to remain calm. A reaction was what he was looking for. "Any and all privileges revoked. Does the subject understand what the terms are?"

A sigh left him. "You're not even going to try to not be boring?"

"This isn't about having fun," her deadpanned voice bluntly stated scowling at him. "It's about having a serious talk with you. If your recent good behavior persists then you might be able to get more privileges. More interviews."

Like she expected his demeanor was anything but cooperative. "That's all you pills want to do is talk. Not that I don't mind telling my life story but you all don't seem to appreciate the efforts I make."

"It's because most of the time you throw tantrums until you get your way or you try to steer the conversation away from the actual subject." Like he was once again doing now. "If your good behavior persists then you'll be able to get out more which would require more ...host's for you to continue talking to you."

She knew access to humans was one thing this degenerate would want and when his head perked up in interest, she knew he was at least listening to what she was saying. Her hands held up the papers for him to see. It was just a few test questions to gauge to see if his recent 'good behavior' deserved to be looked into more or more specifically to see if it'd be worth endangering staff to try and get more information on him. The choice to let him out of the glass box he was usually contained in and dangle a D Class personnel like tempting a dog with a bone was insane. But she wasn't paid to question the mental stability of her higher ups.

"More? Real people too?!"

With a small sigh through her nose she nodded. "Yes. But only if the higher ups approve."

"HA! Deal! But remember I'll be holding you to it."

Her deadpanned look couldn't have been more obvious. "Right. Well before that I need you to confirm that you understand the terms of this."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Then let us begin." It was uneasy to sit down so close to an anomalist entity even if he's still in a cell and on the other side of the glass. Things always had the potential of going wrong, that's why precautions were made but even then she hoped he would mess up so they'd have an excuse to put him back in that glass box. "Alright. First question. What are your thoughts on your current host body?"

"Oh. This old thing?" A hand outstretched when an arm extended out, rolling the wrist and flexing the digits allowing a few black droplets to drop onto the table provided to him. Their splits ending in small burn sounds as the black sludge age away at the wooden exterior before he simply shrugged it's temporary shoulders. "What can I say? He's sturdy and strong enough to last at least..Oh. I don't know. Four maybe five hours if I take good care of him before he completely melts away."

"That's it? Nothing else to say about him?"

A hand grabbed the color of the orange, now stained black and slowly disintegrating along with the flesh and bone underneath. "Well a little change in wardrobe might be nice. I mean come on. After a while orange gets redundant. Why not spice it up a little bit? Let me express myself!" His hands mimicked ones actions of adjusting and invisible tie. "A suit perhaps. I think I'd look quite charming in a bowtie wouldn't you agree?~"

Her eyes slowly blinked. "Out of all the things you find discomforting about the bodies you take is the fashion? Nothing else?"

"Hey. You guys don't care about these guys anymore than I supposedly do if you use them for things like giving them ol' Doc a new toy to play with. At least with me they don't feel pain."

"Fascinating. Anything else to say about it before we move into the next question?"

The head nodded. "Yes!"

"What is it?"

"This dear fellow was of French decent. You know what that means?"

"No..What does it mean?"

Instead of answering normally, in one swooping motion he leaned himself halfway off the chair 'dramatically' pressing a hand to his forehead while together kicking up a leg.

"It means you can interview me like one of your French girls!~"

She sat there staring at him before sighing and pressing her forehead to the papers she held with a groan knowing fully well that everything was being seen by others through the security camera in the corner of the room. 

"Why can't you just be normal around me?"

To which he laughed. "Y'know this technically means I can French kiss now too.~"

"Fat chance."

"I have a chance then! And it's a fat one! What luck on my part today!"

With a sigh she felt herself rub her temples as he chuckled. Why was this always her luck with these creatures?

[sovengardeswag]

The Pines Files

After the events of Weirdmaggeddon, Dipper and Mabel are contacted by the SCP foundation and join the ranks. The adventure never ended, it just took a different turn. And now, years later, they're back to Gravity Falls, aka SCP-████. And it is up to them to investigate the ever-growing mystery behind the town and protect the most dangerous and important SCPs there are and face their past.

Chapter Two: All Around Me Are Familiar Faces

The good thing about being conscripted as a child was that Dipper didn’t need to be debriefed about where Gravity Falls was. He could just pack his stuff up, talk to his landlord, and head out. And that’s exactly what he did, packing just about everything he owned into a Uhaul, his testosterone in a cooler on the front seat to be safe. The trip to Gravity Falls was gonna be a bit of a long haul, unfortunately, but what was more American than taking an overly long road trip for a new job?

And to be honest, with the exception of a mixup at one of the motels and a lackluster lunch in Portland, the trip itself had been largely uneventful. The thirty-five-hour drive from Site-19 to Gravity Falls had been broken down into 10-hour drives, with sleep and meals in between of course. All in all, it took about three and a half days to do it, more or less.

But with all the drive time, even with the radio on, it gave him time to think. He hadn’t been to Gravity Falls in over two years, and Site-19 wasn’t exactly close; if he wasn’t taking all his stuff with him, he would have flown. That wasn’t to say he didn’t keep in touch however, he absolutely did. But he hadn’t seen the place in so long. It was bound to be different, wasn’t it?

And then it was the fact that it wasn’t his supervisor or even Dr. Casper who reassigned him. It was Dr. Bright. Head of personnel himself. There had to be a bigger reason to send him home than just potential. He figured that it was his experience with the site both during and after Weirdmaggedon, but was that really all there was to it? Why not assign him to Gravity Falls in the first place? It was honestly setting off his paranoia. What if there was some important assignment he had somehow missed in the paperwork?

It wasn’t until he was almost there that he remembered what the forms said. He hadn’t seen anything about a secret or a vital mission in those papers he signed. He’d probably be doing standard experimentation. Maybe even stuff he’d been doing ever since he was a kid. It could even be considered a well-earned break after working those five years at site-19.

But had he really earned it? He worked for three years in the anomalous objects department before working in the department of spectral anomalies. Plenty of people got way less after dealing with way worse. All MTF operatives got was a trip to the duck pond.

All Mabel got was a trip to the duck pond.

Best to not think about it.

When he finally arrived at Gravity Falls though, he found that not much had changed, Greasy’s was still there, the used car lot was still there- though it was clear Bud had retired- and no one seemed to move away. If anything, the little town had grown ever so slightly in the time he was gone. He wondered how much of it was foundation personnel and their families, and how much was just regular growth.

The real surprise though was when he arrived at his new building. Sure, he’d told his family where the apartment was going to be and he knew they’d be there to help him move in. What he didn’t expect was to be tackled as soon as he got out of his car and to hear a yell, “OH MY GOD, DIPPER, YOU’RE HERE!” Strong arms squeezed around him, damn near cracking his spine.

“Mabel!” He wiggled out of her grip just a little bit, the smile never leaving his face as he looked at his twin. “I had no idea you were in town! How long have you been here? Did work give you vacation time?”

“Nope! I’m here full-time! For like a month now!” She finally let him go.

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Cause you said you were coming like a week after I showed up! So I wanted to surprise you!” She ruffled his hair.

“ACK!” He got away from her again, not wanting his hair to look any messier. “Come on, let me just get inside.”

Just as he expected, it was more than just Mabel there. Soos, Wendy, Melody, and his Grunkles. They even had a few bags with them. Housewarming stuff no doubt.

“Sorry if there was a wait guys, I had some trouble at a motel a couple of states back.”

Wendy went to mess up his hair, just as Mabel had before, Dipper batting her off as well before she high-fived him, “It’s fine dude, we haven’t been waiting long. What chu been up to?”

“Just a lot of work, getting ready to come on over here, what about you?”

“Just kicking ass!”

“Hell yeah!”

Then came a sudden and tight hug from Soos, “Dude it’s been way too long!” Melody then put a hand on his shoulder, telling him, “Yeah, it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Dipper laughed, telling them, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I should have made the time. But hey! I live here now, we can see each other whenever.” He looked around and noted the distinct lack of a small child clinging to his leg. “Hey, where’s Ernesto?”

“Oh dude, he’s at camp, remember?”

“Already?”

“Yeah, school let out a couple of days ago, you just missed him yesterday,” Melody clarified.

“Augh, I should have packed up sooner.”

“It’s alright, dude, Ernesto gets that he’ll see you when he gets back. Plus, you’ll live here! You can just show up whenever!”

“Yeah yeah, that’s enough small talk! Get over here ya little goober!” Stan pulled Dipper in for a hug and a clap on the shoulder. “How’s Detroit been?”

“Site 19 isn’t in Detroit, Stanley.”

“It's in Michigan either way.”

“It’s been nice actually. Way too cold in winter though.”

“That sounds about right, the great lakes region is known for being quite punishing.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice. How was this year's trip?”

“Oh, it was great! I punched a Kraken in the face! And Ford here met up with his ex again.” Stan elbowed Ford, who couldn’t help but smile.

“I do admit that it was surprising to see Armand again after all these years. Especially when Stanley nearly jumped into the water after hearing his song.”

“Come on, let’s take the yapping upstairs,” Mabel interjected. “We haven’t even seen Dipper’s apartment yet."

The apartment itself wasn’t huge, just a regular one-bedroom. But there was a lot of stuff to bring up. The camera setup, all of Dipper’s dishes, even an aquarium, though it was currently devoid of both fish and water.

“Oh, dude, I didn’t know you kept fish!” Soos said.

“Oh, I don’t. I bought it back in January but I got slammed with work right after, so I never filled it. That’s gonna change though, I wanna start keeping tetra maybe.”

Mabel almost jumped at the chance to tell him, “Oh! You’ll be heading to Grenda’s then! Tell her I said hi!”

“Woah, Grenda’s living ing Gravity falls again? I thought she moved to Austria after she got married, or did something happen?”

“Come on, man, don’t be a downer,” Wendy ruffled his hair, “she and Marius just split their time. You really gotta keep up around here.”

“Right, I shouldn’t have assumed.” And with that, they continued the setup. With the aquarium right across from the couch, so Dipper could look at his fish as he relaxed. Once everything was set up, Dipper ordered pizza.

“Okay, so, we’re getting pepperoni and cheese and chocolate syrup for Mabel.”

Stan shuddered, thinking aloud as he said, “I don’t understand how you can eat some of that stuff, kid.”

Ford shrugged, “Honestly it doesn’t sound too bad.”

Mabel laughed a bit, telling them, “I just have better tastebuds than you guys.”

“More like way weirder tastebuds,” Wendy cracked.

“Sometimes I just think you’re making up how much you like that stuff just to mess with us,” Melody commented lightheartedly. And she further remarked, “It’d be a pretty hardcore prank, to be honest.”

“Honestly, I used to be way worse when I lived on-site and had to eat in the cafeteria. I would just go to the different stations and just put whatever was there on my tray and see what happened. But, like, I don’t do it all the time, I can eat normally.”

“I mean, you are pretty hardcore,” Dipper commented. “One time on site-19, I tried to replicate Mabel Juice for old time’s sake and almost got sent to the hospital.

That got a bit of a laugh and they spent the rest of the afternoon like that. Talking, catching up. Dipper could have honestly spent his whole life like that. Away from the stresses of testing, watching Mabel commit crimes against food.

When it was time for everyone to head out, Dipper bid them all goodbye and found that he had gotten a text on his phone from Ernesto.

“Did you make it home ok Uncle Dipper?”

Dipper smiled and texted back, “Yeah, your mom and dad came by to help, wish I’d shown up earlier bud.”

“Yeah, I wanted to help! 😫

But you’re still gonna be here at the end of the summer right?”

“Don’t worry bud, I won’t be moving for a long time. When you get back, I’ll have something super cool to show you!”

“Really? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise 🤫”

“I’ll just ask grandpa Stan then lol.”

Well, that settled it, there was no time to wait. He would need to get fish for both himself and Ernesto in the morning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mason didn’t have any dreams when he slept. There was no alarm in the morning either. He even made himself an omelette with cheese and mushrooms; thank god for Wendy bringing the groceries; and got his T-shot done quickly when normally he was a bit precious about it. He felt good about unhitching the U-Haul and driving through town.

It wasn’t hard to find Grenda’s shop. Past the used car lot/psychic’s shop, next to the laser tag place and replacing the dance studio. On the way, it let him see just how many people moved here. He wondered which were loggers and which were agents. He was pretty sure the super tall redhead in flannel who looked like a Cuordoroy was a lumberjack, and the lady picking up a coffee from Greasy’s who had sunglasses and an earpiece was without a doubt an agent, but with others, it was hard to tell. Though he was sure he would find out in time.

When he got to the shop, he found that it was, quite predictably, called Grenda’s Pet Emporium. The sign itself was even pink and the lettering was done in a cursive font, perhaps more appropriate for a hair salon or dog groomer than for a full pet store. But that wasn’t any of his business. As Dipper walked in, he found that the place made use of the dance studio space to create a huge floor, showing off both the supplies and pets. And then he heard it.

“Guten tag!”

Dipper looked to the cash register and saw Marius with a smile and his hair tied back. The young baron looked like he belonged there, oddly enough. Perfectly comfortable in a pink polo and khakis. “Marius? You work here?”

“Ja! When Grenda and I are here at least. It’s relaxing and the people are polite enough, though they ask many questions. And I get to spend time with mein lovely wife and all these little animals.”

“That does sound like a nice gig. Is Grenda here by the way?”

“She is! Just wait for a moment!” With that, he headed into the back, returning with Grenda.

“Dipper! You moved here already?” She gave him a hug that absolutely cracked his spine.

“Y-yeah! I just got in yesterday! Mabel says hi by the way.” It was good to see Grenda hadn’t changed since he last saw her. Still the affectionate woman who’d befriended his sister all those years ago.

She soon let go of him, asking, “So, what brings you here? Besides saying hi, I mean.”

“Oh, I actually came to buy some fish and supplies. I already have a filled tank so I just need some water conditioner, a heater, and some decorations.”

“What species were you thinking of,” asked Marius.

“I was thinking maybe tetras, but honestly, as long as it’s fresh water and won’t eat other fish, it works for me.”

“That’s great, 'cause we’ve got a bunch of tanks that I just stocked.” And so she led Dipper to the aquatics section. And she wasn’t kidding about the selections. She had tetras, suckers, goldfish, and more. All with meticulous care guides seemingly written by Grenda herself. Tellingly, she had no bettas in sad little cups. He was honestly pretty impressed and feeling almost serene watching so many fish.

That was immediately shattered when he heard, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pine Tree home after all this time.”

Dipper nearly jumped at it, almost in disbelief. It couldn’t be, could it? He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a tank with only one resident. A yellow axolotl that was missing an eye. And though axolotls couldn’t make faces, Dipper could have sworn this one looked smug. “No, it can’t be,” he muttered to himself. He must have been going crazy.

“But it is, Pine Tree. Did you miss me? It’s been what, 18 years? You’ve really grown up, huh? At this rate, you’ll be a corpse soon. Speaking of, how’s Fordsy?”

Dipper blinked. What the hell? Was this axolotl even real? Dipper turned to Grenda and asked, “Hey, what’s this guy’s story?”

Grenda looked in the tank and, much to Dipper’s relief, rolled her eyes at the water dog, “Ugh, this guy. He’s an absolute nightmare is what he is. We tried breeding axolotls and when the first clutch hatched, this guy ate all his siblings! Even lost an eye in the process! And now he just lives here, acting all creepy and junk.”

Marius shuddered, “I still remember all the little gills.”

“And they were absolutely delicious.”

So Dipper definitely wasn’t going insane, but why couldn’t they hear the dream demon’s voice coming from the tank? Either way, he needed answers. And if this, reincarnation? Puppet? Of Bill’s was around here and could talk, well, he couldn’t just leave him. Who knew what else he would do? Plus people thought he was crazy at the best of times, the last thing he needed was to have a conversation with a Mexican salamander in the middle of a pet store. “So, is he for sale then?”

“Yeah, he is. But for you, Dipper, he's on the house.”

“Come on, don’t be like that, I’m worth at least 100 bucks!”

“Ja, anything to get him out of here.”

“Are there any fish he won’t eat?”

“Yeah, there are some species axolotls get along with, guppies, minnows, snails, that sort of thing.”

“I’ll take him then.”

“WHAT?”

“I’ll take the supplies and some tankmates too. So he doesn’t get lonely.” So Dipper could have some fish he actually liked.

“Alright, just keep an eye on him for a little while when you get home. Just to be safe.”

Dipper looked at Bill again and could have sworn he had a look of despair on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper’s fish tank was a dream. Extra fine sand made up the substrate, the water was perfectly heated, and it had lots of hides and artificial plants. In the middle was the best and biggest hide. A replica of Teotihuacan, currently occupied by the tank’s axolotl. And that axolotl was pissed as he sat within that hide. Staring at Dipper as he sat on the couch across from him, drinking a Pitt Cola.

It was Dipper who broke the silence, the pit in the bottle rolling around like a shitty version of a Ramune marble as he put the soda down on the coffee table. “Ok, first things first. You should be dead. Why are you alive and possessing an axolotl.”

“Axolotl.”

“That’s what I said, axolotl.”

“No, it’s pronounced axolotl. And anyway, who said anything about possession? I was born like this, kid.”

“That doesn’t answer how the hell you’re even here!” Dipper stood up and began to pace. “I mean, you were erased from Grunkle Stan’s mind. That was supposed to, I don’t know, destroy your soul. You’re not supposed to be able to reincarnate or whatever this is!”

“Wow, you sure like making assumptions. Who said anything about my soul? How do you know I’ve ever even had one?”

Dipper glared at him and picked up his soda again, taking a swig from it like it was liquor and not a carbonated, fake-peach-flavored soft drink. “Ok then, why an axolotl? And how did you avoid getting destroyed?”

“That’s the fun part, I didn’t. I was dead. But before Stanley got to me, I called to a being more ancient than any of the universes. A being of creation, merciful but firm.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”

“Shut up! Anyways, he heard me and told me I’ve got to be in another place, another time, another form. It just so happened that the form was in his image, the place was a nursery tank in Austria, and the time was last year.”

Dipper groaned, rubbing his face. “Ok, so, you got reincarnated by an axolotl god. What were you doing in Grenda’s store?”

“I lived there!”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then I’m done talking!”

“Look, it’s not like you can exactly enact your plans anymore now that you’re in an SCP-foundation scientist’s fish tank-”

The axolotl opened its mouth and Dipper heard that horrible, maniacal laughter. A laugh that made his hair stand on end and that brought back memories of being 12 and incorporeal.

“No wonder you look so dead! I just thought you weren’t sleeping again, but no, you’re a stooge! A goon for some nosy zombies! After all this time, after all those heroics, you’re still someone’s puppet!” His gills flapped at the word heroics

“I am not!” Dipper slammed his empty cola bottle down on the coffee table. “You’re lucky that I’m not logging you as an anomaly! I should be bringing you into the office!”

“And yet that chatty, girly monster and her old-money, wife guy husband couldn’t hear me. If you turn me in, we’re gonna end up as SCP 30629313-1 and 30629313-2. You’re stuck with me.”

Dipper sat back down, glaring at Bill as Bill stared back with his one blank eye. An eye that betrayed much more brain power than any amphibian should have. And Dipper knew he was right. He couldn’t tell anyone at work that Bill was alive. Both for his own safety and the safety of others.

“Ok, but at least tell me why you’re like, you know, this.” He gestured toward Bill. “Why do you remember that you were a dream demon? Reincarnation isn’t supposed to work that way.”

“You’re funny. You think reincarnation is something that can be cataloged like that? No, even your foundation has a couple of reincarnations that remember everything, some that don’t know anything at all, and some that are in between. Like, say, that poor kid that they keep in her very own site.”

“Don’t even joke about that, man. It’s not like anyone wants her there.”

“Yeah, yeah, cold not cruel. Either way, it looks like we’re at an impasse, two monsters killing time.”

“Yeah, two monsters…” He sat there for a bit, thinking, before he went for his keys and told Bill, “I’ve gotta go. If you eat my fish, I’ll flush you down the toilet.”

“And risk her ripping you apart with her bare hands?”

“Yes, now leave my fish alone!” And with that, he left, heading straight to Mabel’s place.

There was no way in hell that Dipper was telling the foundation about Bill. And he didn’t want to be alone in this either. So she was the only person he could tell.

When Dipper arrived at Mabel’s house, he knocked and she answered, “Dipper, hey! Come on in!”

As soon as he walked in, Dipper heard sniffing and felt something touching his leg. He looked down and asked, “You got another pig?”

“Yeah, that’s Baby! Isn’t she just the cutest little thing?”

“Yeah, she is! When did you get her?”

“This morning!”

Baby proceeded to chew on Dipper’s pant leg. She was a black and white pig whereas Waddles had been just pink, with marks on her sides and one black spot over her eye. He picked her up and she squealed, so he put her back down and she trotted off somewhere. Mabel then finally brought Dipper into her living room and he got a good look at the decor. It was very Mabel, with a lot of sparkles and cats, but not necessarily in an eye-burning way. The sparkles, plentiful as they were, were mostly accents, the pictures on her pillows tasteful. Not to mention the comfortable-looking knitted throw blankets. It was as if a kindly grandmother discovered blingee.

“So, what’s with the visit? You already done unpacking?”

“Haha, um, well, no. You see, I, uh, have something to show you. And you have to promise to not tell anyone on site.”

Mabel’s expression went from a smile to a suspicious frown. “Dipper, did you try to break your way into the gnome lodge again?”

“That was one time and no!” He sighed and took out his phone, bringing up a picture he’d taken of the one-eyed axolotl, “He look familiar to you?”

Mabel, knowing Dipper wouldn’t mess with her about work matters, looked at the axolotl carefully, but didn’t see much wrong with it. “Ok, what am I looking at?”

“Mabel, it’s yellow and has one eye! Axolotls should be able to grow those back!”

“Wait, it’s not pronounced axolotl?”

“Yeah, no, it’s pronounced axolotl. But here’s the thing, Mabel. What else do we know has one eye, is yellow, and,” he gave a shout as Mabel shoved a pillow in his face. It had a birthday cake scent pack from Build-A-Bear in it.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Dipper! I know where you’re headed with this and it’s messed up!” She took the pillow away from his face so he could breathe. “What’s making you think that anyways? Did a ghost haunt you from Site-19 or something?”

“No! I’m sorry! But it really is Bill. He talked to me in the shop and everything. So I bought him from Grenda and put him in my fish tank for containment.”

“And you’re sure he’s actually talking? It’s not just another ghost you picked up?”

“Yeah, I even have proof.”

Dipper swiped through his phone then, pulling up a video of the back seat of his car, focusing on the axolotl in one of the plastic transport bags. Dipper could hear Bill yelling as he pawed at the bag and thrashed, “THIS IS INHUMANE PINETREE! AN AFFRONT! RELEASE ME! JUST DROP ME OFF IN A LAKE OR SOMETHING! MASON!” And then the video stopped, not wanting to film too long for the sake of his fish.

He looked at Mabel and she blinked. “Dipper, I didn’t hear anything. Was I supposed to?”

“What?”

“Yeah. It’s weird but it’s not anything I would call headquarters over.”

Dipper sighed, running his hand through his hair. Had he just hallucinated that? He figured that if he could hear it, then maybe through being twins, Mabel could hear it. He had clearly been wrong. But then, if it had been a hallucination, he wouldn’t be hearing it on the video.

Mabel looked at him and, seeing her brother sad and despondent, got an idea. “How about we head to your place and you let me see him? Two eyes are better than one, after all. Besides, Baby needs to get to know her uncle.”

“You know what? Yeah, let’s go. Seeing him in person will probably be better.”

With that, they headed to Dipper’s car, Mabel putting Baby in the back seat and buckling her with a dog seatbelt. As they drove, Mabel got on her phone and started texting. She asked Dipper, “You already pick out an outfit for what you’re wearing to dinner tomorrow?”

“Ugh, I almost forgot about that. I haven’t even unpacked all my clothes yet.”

“You haven’t even been back a day and you’re forgetting about family stuff? Dipper I thought you agreed to move here to not have work on your brain all the time.”

“Can we not do this? I mean, Mabel, this isn’t some cursed app. Bill nearly killed us when we were just kids.”

“Uh, yeah! I was there Dipper!” She sighed and pinched her nose. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I’ll help you unpack when we get there.”

Baby snorted in the backseat.

When they got to Dipper’s building, Mabel flashed her badge at the front desk so fast that they thought it said CIA to let her bring a pig in.

“Mabel, what the hell?”

“Oh like you’ve never done it before Dipper, it was just to get Baby in,”

“Well, I haven’t,” Dipper lied.

Mabel just hummed and said, “If you say so.”

When they walked in, they found the tank right where they left it, with Baby going off to explore. Furthermore, Bill had, luckily, left his tankmates alive. But he was digging around the sand at the bottom of the tank much more energetically than an axolotl should be. When he detected that he was being watched, he stopped and started floating instead, looking as innocent as a newborn puppy.

“What are you doing?”

“None of your business.” He looked at Mabel and couldn’t help but comment, “Shooting Star didn’t believe you, huh?”

“No, she did, she just wanted to see you for herself.”

“What’d he say, Dipper?”

“He thinks you didn’t believe me.”

“And what was he doing?”

“It’s supposedly none of my business.”

“It IS none of your business.”

“It is my business because if you clog up the filter you’ll kill my other fish.”

Bill almost seemed to squint and Mabel definitely noticed it. She watched as he swam to his temple hide and saw how comfortable he looked in a pyramid structure. But she had to be sure, “Can he understand me, Dipper?”

“Loud and clear.”

So, Mabel went fully up to the tank and asked Bill, “What was the first thing I found in my prison bubble?”

Bill stared at Mabel with his one good eye, his front foot digging into the sand as if he was stimming while he thought. “The bubble was an automated spell that read your mind and gave you whatever you wanted. I didn’t enchant squat in there, kid. What I did do is grab your pig and drop him in. You humans just love your pets, after all. He would have been one of the first things you saw.”

“It was Waddles, the real Waddles. He didn’t personally give you anything else. You thought up that whole world.”

Mabel nodded, “Yeah, that’s right. I found Waddles and everything came later. But why is it that only you can hear him?”

“Who said only Pine Tree can hear me? I don’t remember piloting your meat suit around.”

“It seems like it’s cause he possessed me?”

“Do I wanna know his exact words?”

“Not really, no.”

Mabel sat on the couch, Dipper joining her, and Baby came by, wanting up too. Both humans stared at the tank as Bill stared back at them.

“So, what are you gonna do? It doesn’t exactly look like your setup’s temporary."

“I don’t know Mabel. He’s not exactly anomalous except for the whole talking to people he possessed. “

“Yeah, you and Ford would be part of his case file then.”

“So I have to stay here,” Bill interjected

“Yeah, I have to agree, looks like he’s staying,” Dipper said.

“We telling anyone?”

“See, that’s the part I’m not sure about, Mabel. Because who are we gonna tell? Ford? He’s just gonna get worried. Mayor Tyler? He’s just gonna taze us. Gideon?” Out of the question.

Baby snorted as she got comfy on the couch and Mabel sighed. “You’re right, it’s just, ugh, it’s another secret we have to keep.”

“I know, Mabel. But we have to. Until we figure out what’s up at least.”

Mabel cracked her neck and nodded. “Until we figure out what’s up.” She then got up. “Let me go help you unpack. We’ve got to get you dressed for tomorrow!” She then ran to Dipper’s bedroom. A threat that she was going to come up with something truly horrific to wear while she rifled through his clothes.

And Dipper couldn’t laugh as he told Mabel, “Don’t even think about He had to try and prevent her from seeing how many of the same shirts he owned. They didn’t see Bill go back to his digging.

Afa vlr qefkh vlr tbob pxcb

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you liked this fic, please check out my writing tag (Sam writes and sam’s writing) here on tumblr. For author notes and the previous chapter, check the links in the reblogs. The hint for this chapter's code is 3 back

[thedeskofaltoclef]

A Gift for SCP-053

Every Christmas morning SCP-053 is visited by a man dressed as Santa Claus. The two spend a minimum of three hours playing together with new toys and watching Christmas movies. Her favorite of these movies is "Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer."

During this time foundation staff are unable to enter her cell or interact with the two in any way outside of camera feeds.

The only information given from these events are the accounts from SCP-053 stating that "Santa smells like Mint Cookies!"

[papiliomame]

JUMPSCARE WARNING!

Things That Bleed by @artistfingers , @ghostly-cabbage and @kkachis

I was in the mood for some horror stories and I always saw this fic as a recommended fic on my dash. And yeah it's awesome go read it! Also, I really like the font and the formatting it's really nice on the eyes. I was inspired to make make a model for SCP!Danny and to animate a scene from it.

The animation is the barn scene(chapter 4) from Officer Alvarez POV. (I wish I could add some audio but I'm not a sound designer.)

And here are a turnaround and some screenshots for the Dannymodel but with his normal hairstyle.

[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.”

.

SCP: HMF Art Collection Hub

View more on my Patreon

[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.”