#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.

[dontforcemetologin]

watercolour is unbearably annoying.

but heres a guy.

[askscpinhumaneau]

Have a stupid drawing I made..

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 51

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 was so afraid… I thought I lost you."

Chapter Warnings: Angst, violence, gore, death

AO3

Spotify

You held him close as you trembled, more fragile than you’d felt since the breach began.

The control over your wild emotions was slipping, but then they were soothed by the hand that gently stroked down your back. You squeezed him tighter.

049 stiffened and made a soft noise of discomfort. The thought of him in pain was the only thing that reeled you in, the tangled web of nerves pushed aside in favor of focusing on him.

You pulled back to get a better look at him. His robes were tattered, as if aggressive moths had nibbled at the edges.

“You’re hurt.”

049 simply smiled with his eyes.

“You’re here.”

Your lips trembled; you couldn’t smile back without fear of the expression breaking.

“Course I am. I had to find you.”

It was… difficult to focus with him staring at you that way, drinking in the sight of you as if he hadn’t expected to see it again.

You wanted to reach out and pull him close again, but you didn’t.

“You’re avoiding the issue.” Your voice was stern, hiding the tremble you felt in your bones. You could fall apart later; right now, you had to find out just how injured he was.

049 released a small sigh and attempted to sit up, only succeeding with the addition of your help. He glanced down at himself, the ruin of his robes, but he was less concerned than you were.

Of course you were concerned, those damn robes were his skin, and he must have been in pain.

“An unfortunate result of being in the Old Man’s web,” 049 relented. “Also… he doesn’t particularly like me.”

You frowned, some of your earlier anger returning. It was fortunate for 106 that he’d closed the way to his dimension, or you would have been tempted to go back and make sure he could never hurt 049 again.

“You were able to extract the digital storage device from my bag,” he added, his gentle voice drawing you from your anger, like purging venom from a wound. His eyes were soft, warm, and God, you’d missed this so much. Missed him.

“I started the breach with 079’s help,” you said. “That’s what you planned, isn’t it?”

His gaze grew heavy and solemn.

“A breach would give you the best opportunity of escape.”

“You didn’t plan on escaping with me.”

“I did not expect to live long enough to try,” he said with a tilt of his head. “My survival was irrelevant to the plan.”

Your face scrunched, anger flickering back to life.

“It’s not irrelevant to me.”

His pale eyes went soft again, unbothered by your sharp words. And when he reached to touch your jaw, you froze, the anger snuffed out, or at least reduced to a simmer.

But 049’s expression wasn’t tender, it was focused. His thumb rubbed your jaw and then pulled back, examining his glove.

“Who did this?”

You looked at his hand but saw nothing against the black fabric.

“What?”

“The Pestilence.” He nearly hissed the word. “It lingers on your skin.”

You frowned.

“I must have gotten it while in there.”

“No… this is different.” He rubbed the spot on his thumb, his voice lowered into an unfriendly rumble. “This is the mask’s brand of corruption.”

Entirely outside of your own control, your face went hot.

“Ah, yeah.” You aimed for casual and landed on awkward. “I ran into 035.”

His gaze darkened so fast it was like a whipcrack.

“I’m okay,” you said in a rush, “079 helped me get away.”

“What… did he want with you?”

He spoke slowly, as if each word had to be chewed before being spit out. You didn’t envy 035 if they ever ran into each other again.

“The usual. Attention, and an opportunity to be a smug asshole.”

That wasn’t the whole of it, and 049 seemed to sense this, his expression unblinking as he waited for you to continue. Which, you did, your hands balled nervously in your lap.

“He was also certain there was a way to leave the facility. All the skybridges have been retracted, but he said there was a way out through the archival section. And that… you would know how to find it.”

That knocked some of the harsh edge out of 049’s steely expression.

“I do not know of any alternate egress from this facility. And I do not know why he believes I would.”

You relaxed a little, even if the news was disappointing. 035 had seemed so insistent on it, too.

And then you backtracked.

“Wait, alternate egress? Do you know of another exit?”

“Of course.” He looked at you askance. “The way we came in.”

The front door. He was talking about the front door.

“Who came up with this plan?” you asked as you rubbed your forehead.

“That would be the one you call SCP-079.”

Ah. Right. 079 had probably been so confident in his own ability to keep the skybridges down that he didn’t consider the possibility of anything else.

“Well, he’s not here, so we’re on our own, unfortunately,” you said. “I guess… we try to find the archival section and see if 035 wasn’t just making up shit. With 079 and 682 gone, I don’t know what else to do.”

049 cocked his head.

“The reptile is… here?”

The question came out so polite in its confusion you almost smiled.

“Yeah, he’s out. I freed him.”

049 only blinked, as if not quite sure what to do with this information.

“There’s so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start,” you said softly. “A lot has happened since they took you away.”

So much, and you didn’t have to hide anything anymore. Not from the cameras, not from 049 in fear of what Leahy would do to him. You realized, for the first time, you were truly alone together.

You moved without thought and knelt between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing close until there was no distance between you. You tried to be gentle, mindful of his damaged skin, but your need was too great to hold back.

He didn’t stiffen or pull away, only stilled for a moment before pulling you in, arms around your middle. You were on your knees while he sat on the floor, the only way you had height over him, and you pressed him to your chest, not caring of the edges of the beak against your collarbone.

“I found you,” you whispered into the hood of his robes. “I was so afraid… I thought I lost you.”

The fingers dipped against your skin were grounding and warm.

“I had thought death had come for me, after I had avoided its embrace for so long. I had… accepted my fate.”

“I didn’t.” And you never would.

He hummed a pleasant noise, and one hand traced up into your hair to gently touch the strands.

“We are not free of this place yet.”

His voice was quiet, as if afraid to break the fragile moment. But he was right, and you had to get moving. Staying in one place for too long was a guaranteed way to be caught by something violent and murderous.

But… perhaps one more moment wouldn’t hurt.

You pulled back just far enough to cup his head in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

The noise he made was strange, like a startled growl or a muffled purr, and a tremor moved him as your lips lingered on his skin. His hands had fallen to your waist, fingers tightening as if to pull you closer.

You ended the kiss but remained where you were, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You wanted to stay like this, just the two of you. No breach, no lethal lockdown, no stray SCPs or soldiers. Only you and him.

You reluctantly pulled away, giving one last stroke of your thumb over the place on his mask where his cheek would be. He seemed just as unwilling to part from you, his expression naked, something wistful in his grey eyes.

Perhaps once you escaped Site-20, you would have time to figure out what this was without the constant shadow of the Foundation. The problem was figuring out how to leave a facility that was built to be impenetrable. 049 wasn’t at his full strength, and you discovered another problem as you pulled away.

The shotgun slung across your back had corroded beyond recovery, the metal eaten through with black rust. The pistol and gun belt met the same fate, the unnatural rust marring the fabric and metal. The food you’d taken hadn’t fared any better, accelerated into a rotten state. It seemed that anything that hadn’t been in direct contact with your skin had been lost to the leeching hunger of 106’s lair.

You stripped off the useless pieces, thinking over this new obstacle. Without 079, finding another armory would be unlikely. You wondered if he’d betrayed you now that 682 was free.

Or… maybe betrayed wasn’t the right word. He would have considered your bargain fulfilled, whether or not you made it out alive, and would see no reason to wait for your return. From the perspective of a purely mechanical being, it made sense. Except you knew from how 079 felt about 682, he wasn’t entirely cold circuits and unfeeling logic.

So, for the time being, you would work under the assumption that 079 and 682 wouldn’t be coming back. Luckily, you knew where to get more weapons.

“I don’t know how to get out of here, but we need weapons,” you said, getting to your feet and brushing off your knees. “Can you walk?”

“I believe so.”

You reached out a hand, and 049 stared at it with mild confusion, until he understood and took it gently. He was heavy but had more strength than he’d had in the dark realm, and he stood on his own two feet without swaying. It was progress.

You led him from the medical bay, retracing the steps you’d taken with Leahy. You hadn’t really thought about the Site Director after getting 049 back, and your mind shied away from your last image of him. You didn’t need the distraction.

The halls remained just as empty, lit red with emergency lighting and the occasional smear of crimson on the white linoleum. It didn’t take long to reach your destination, and you stood on the threshold, shocked by the destruction. You didn’t remember it being this bad before, or… maybe it hadn’t seemed bad at the time.

049 loomed over your shoulder, taking in the room that had once been the Site Director’s office.

“What has befallen this place?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead sorting through the blasted office furniture for what you sought, sifting through the carnage with fragile numbness. The bodies were distinguishable from the furniture by the glimpses of pale bone and the stench of cooked flesh. These were no longer people. They were pieces of burnt meat and charred bone.

You tried not to look at them, but it was hard to look at anything else.

“They were guarding Leahy,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat. Unaffected. “And I needed him to find you, so…”

The result was self-explanatory. Or so you thought, but 049’s silence said otherwise as he stared at you.

“I wore the jade ring. SCP-714 affects me… differently than it should.”

His grey eyes flicked around the room.

“I see.”

He offered nothing more, simply watched what you were doing. You picked up a P90 that seemed undamaged, but it caught on an arm, which might not have been a problem if it had been attached to a body. The limb untangled itself and fell to the floor with a sickly thud.

The gun slipped from your fingers and clattered to the sooty, blood-stained floor. You ran out the door, past 049, and dry heaved in the corridor. Nothing came out but drool, your mouth filled with acrid-tasting saliva, and you spit it out.

What was wrong with you? It hadn’t bothered you before, it had been easy. Uncomplicated. They’d been obstacles, and you’d removed them. If you could kill these men, you could damn well face the result.

It wasn’t as if they’d given you a choice. You’d needed Leahy, and now he was… was…

049 appeared at your side, and you straightened, wiping the spittle from your lips. He was carrying two P90s, and they should have looked odd in his hands, like a medieval knight with a smartphone. But it was strangely natural, and he looked strangely comfortable holding them.

He held one out to you, muzzle pointed away, stock first. You took it with unsteady hands, noting he kept the other. You wondered if he’d ever used a gun before, if he even knew how. With the way he gripped it, you had a feeling the answer was yes.

“You’re not accustomed to the dead.”

You gave a small shrug and looked at your gun, pretending you were interested in checking the ammunition clip.

“I’m not used to… causing death.”

“Good.”

You met his eye, his expression serious.

“One should not bear the executioner’s axe with a light step.”

You remained quiet, and he suddenly looked away.

“You… did not have to do this. Not for me. The price you paid may not have been worth the result.”

“It was worth everything.” Your mouth twisted into a scowl as you stepped closer. “I told you. I’m leaving with you or not at all.”

He spoke your first name, softly, and it was almost enough to make you weak. But you kept your expression hard and said, “We need to keep moving.”

You walked away from the Site Director’s office and refused to linger on what was left behind.

Without a concrete plan or much in the way of supplies, your only idea was to go with 035’s original plan, which unfortunately would lead you in the opposite direction of the skybridges. Worse, there were signs of recent activity. Scorch marks that still smoked, blood that still pooled from warm bodies.

The lights had also been restored in this sector, bright and clinical white, making your eyes ache after the dim red. It was harder to hide like this, and it was sheer luck that you both weren’t spotted when you came across a platoon of guards. They were too focused on taking down a twenty-foot-tall anomaly as it swung at them with giant hands, eyes covering its back red with fury.

049 pulled you down a side corridor, and you kept running, the staccato of gunfire and screams echoing the halls, chaos and death filling the sector. You both were blind without 079’s guidance.

The Epsilon-11 soldiers didn’t make a sound until you rounded the corner and froze. 049 couldn’t pull you back quickly enough this time.

You were hit hard in the middle like being slammed by a truck. Your legs went out, and you only remained upright because he hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you back out of the line of fire.

He set you down against the wall, leaning across your body and the corner to shoot back. You tried to raise your own P90, but your fingers were clumsy and slick. You looked down and found your smock coated in red.

The gunfire was deafening so close to your head, but 049 still heard your gasped words.

“No,” he said, so firmly it was almost a growl. He fired around the corner, his eyes ablaze with fury and an intent to slaughter. By the cries and falling bodies you heard between the bursts of fire, he seemed to be succeeding. But there were holes in his robes, blood oozing from the wounds at a slower rate than yours. Not bulletproof, after all.

“Please,” you rasped. “We have to.”

“Your body won’t survive the strain.” Another rapid burst of gunfire, lighting his mask in an ominous glaze. “The ring would kill you.”

I’m dying anyway, you didn’t say. And you were dying. All because you rushed that corner without checking first. You’d been so desperate to escape, and now you wouldn’t.

“You… need to go.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, hunched over you like a warding stature, all fire and brimstone. But he still bled, wounds dripping onto your smock to mix with your own, and you noted it was the same. Red blood.

You thought it would hurt more. Your abdomen was torn, littered with holes, but beyond the initial impacts, you didn’t feel much. You didn’t need one of the Foundation surgeons to tell you that wasn’t a good sign.

“Valens,” you tried again. Begged. “Go.”

“No.” Now he did snarl. “Do not ask this of me.”

He wasn’t going to leave. Everything you’d done, everything you both suffered, it would be for nothing.

You looked away, hope draining out of you just as quickly as your blood. And then you caught sight of them. Two circular anomalies peeking through the door you’d just come through. One orange, the other yellow, they jostled each other to get a better look at you with their singular eyes.

SCP-131-A and SCP-131-B. What were the Eye Pods doing here?

They didn’t come into the corridor, clearly terrified of the gunfire as they trembled, rolling back and forth in nervous oscillation. You could even hear the small noises they made, like scared puppies wanting to be comforted during a thunderstorm.

And then you heard another sound. Scrapping, rolling stone, grating against something hard like…

Concrete?

The Eye Pods—they didn’t want your protection. They were warning you.

“The… lights.”

049 ignored you, too focused on the enemy, his eyes narrowed and furious.

“049! The lights!”

He glanced at you questioningly, and his eyes went a little wide as you raised the P90 clumsily in your left hand and fired past him into the ceiling.

Your shots went wide but some of them hit their mark, exploding the fluorescent bulbs overhead in a bright spray of angry sparks.

049 might not understand your reasons, but he didn’t hesitate to follow your actions as he leaned around the corner and fired upward into the squares of light. He took another hit, and another, before you gripped him by the sleeve and pulled him back with the last of your strength.

You didn’t destroy all the lights, some of them remained, but they were damaged, and the corridor flickered with sporadic flashes.

The gunfire paused. And then the screaming started, bullets flying, but not in your direction. The sound of snapping bones punctuated the screams and gunshots, until finally, it was silent.

There was nothing in front of you, 049 sitting next to you as he leaned against the wall, panting and gripping his rifle.

And then, with the next flicker, it appeared in front of you, inches away. Its harmless-looking stubby arms reached out, its painted face strange and unseeing, and yet, its focus solely on you.

The overhead lights flickered again, casting you into brief darkness, and still 173 remained in place.

“How?” Your voice was faint. It was getting harder to draw breath.

“I can see in darkness,” 049 said grimly. “I will watch as long as I can. Blinking is not a necessity.”

The Eye Pods had vanished. If they were here, they could keep 173 in place, but they weren’t, and 049 needed to get somewhere safe.

There was… one thing you could do. One last act for him.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. You weren’t speaking only to 049. “It’s okay.”

You reached out and touched 173 on its stomach. The stone should have felt cold and lifeless, but it was warm, and hatred thrummed under your palm. It was a vibrant, visceral loathing that ran deep, a part of its nature as much as its limbs and painted face.

Its very existence was hatred, born out of a cruel origin it hadn’t chosen, forced into a box where its captors always watched. It hated the staring. The only relief it felt was when it could punish, and the captors couldn’t stare anymore.

All it wanted to do was kill, it had nearly killed you once, and all you felt for it was sadness.

You closed your eyes. You were so tired, your body sluggish as your thoughts wanted to do the same, but you concentrated. Focused on the thing inside of 173 that didn’t belong. The gaping wound that shouldn’t exist, that drove the anomaly to seek pain and death as a balm. And you began to close it.

The hatred dimmed, gradually, like a dying light, one that hurt to look at and would burn everything to ash if it could. But there was something still beautiful about it, and when it was extinguished, you felt its loss. This wasn’t like the black hole, or the suffering, time-dilated patient.

173 had been made of stone, but it was alive.

Had… been alive.

You opened your eyes. 049 was close, his mask inches away as he stared down at you, something rare and novel in his eyes. Fear.

At first, you thought it was fear of what you’d done. But then you realized his hand was pressed to your stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. His other arm went around your back, and you barely registered the shift in gravity as he lifted you from the ground.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, looking past his shoulder to the SCP that stood there, unmoving. It would never move again, now just a strange piece of art in the flickering light.

The image of the lifeless statue vanished as you closed your eyes, and the world went still.

Next Chapter

[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.

[vnikra]

Sketch

[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.

[melinoelabs]

Why do we get results where the competition doesn't?

Well, I'll tell you.

We treat the strange, anomalous and extranormal with all the dignity and respect it deserves.

And not a drop more.

Sure, we could be like the Wal-Mart of extreme sciences, spinning an ever-expanding impossibly huge web of lies and coverups while trying desperately, futilely, to lock up and control it all to keep normalcy afloat.

But I ask you, what has normalcy ever done for us, really? It maintains the natural order? Newsflash, Scippy, the natural order is neither of those things and, quite frankly, it sucks to boot!

Be the strange you want to see in the world, that's our motto! *

The reverence for the mundane is a truly sad form of idolatry friends, empirically verified in the bottom 10% of idolatry experiences by multilateral studies.

That's the real 001 you're trying to keep locked down. The World. Object Class: Bemused. Containment Class: Sisyphean.

Tell me, what's more "normal":

Spending millions watching and waiting for a bunch of redcaps to turn some suburban family into organic dye, send in a squad to wipe out the nest, drug the witnesses, and pretend the whole thing never happened just to do it again the next week...

Or selling easy to use, affordable Puck-Off Brand™ live-capture traps to an alerted populace?

Remember, we were all terrified by the internet at first and now it's just annoying. Same principle applies.

Anyhow, stop trying to kidnap my pet. Walbert is not an 'anomaly', he's a very sensitive purebred New Cheddland dromiceiomimus, with papers, and is a very good boy.

Kindly,

Director Maria Kleinheart

*If you are in possession of an unused portion of any previous mottos, return the unused portion for an updated replacement and complementary antidote.

[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

[overseer-o5-1]

My first voice acting role!

Come check out the amazing gifts and unique perks to support our upcoming game! There's multiple prizes and cool items to unlock in the tiers, even the lowest tiers come with interesting prizes, such as pins, t-shirts, concept art books, and behind the scenes footage!

We've reached almost 2600$ in funding! 1/10 the way there!

Visit this link to help us reach our goal and fund the artists!

https://scp-infohazard.kckb.me/9be6bd92

[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

[plaugeartist135]

SCP MEMES

Literary if anyone say they wanna be cannon SCP-049 I swear we need contain that person

[thestars-shinebright]

You, yes you🫵🫵🫵 you have lovely writing and I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do a Dr. Sherman x doctor, female, vampire reader that was a vampire since the 90's and still has the 90's style to her. :'] 👍

Also most importantly... I hope you have a wonderful day/night :] ✌️

Yippee!! I love Dr. Sherman so much! I wasn't sure if somebody would request anything for him, but I'm so glad you did!! <3

These will be headcanons bc I spoke to the requester and she mentioned she wanted it to be headcanons <3

Dr. Theron Sherman X Researcher! Fem! Vampire! Reader Headcanons

Dr. Sherman is and was always open to befriending anomalies.

So his girlfriend being one—a vampire in particular—wasn’t a shock to anybody in Site-42.

With Theron himself being the site director and his girlfriend being a researcher (him practically being her boss), there were obviously people who called their relationship unprofessional and unethical.

Did either of them care?

Absolutely not.

Since vampires can’t see their reflections, I think she would always go to Dr. Sherman to make sure she looks good and nothing’s out of place after getting ready.

Vampires can’t have garlic! Dr. Sherman always makes sure that his girlfriend’s food doesn’t have any of that in whatever she’s eating when they go out.

Dr. Sherman is such a softie. His girlfriend definitely has given this man Squishmellows.

And he totally schedules her sessions with 999 when she’s having a bad day :)

Since vampires can’t be out in the sun, Dr. Sherman will go and run errands for his girlfriend!

And also, since vampires are nocturnal, Dr. Sherman has drastically changed his sleep schedule in order to spend more time with his girlfriend <3

I sincerely apologize for how short this was, I really wish I could’ve made it longer, but I’ve been suffering from writer’s block, and I really didn’t want the requester to have to wait any longer. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

[askscpinhumaneau]

Name a more arrogant, dramatic b*tch SCP, I'll wait.

[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