#tw aaron siegel

[essophysics-enjoyer]

aaron is such a silly name why does it have 2 As. its like it comes with its own tiny little scream attached. anybody named aaron is just begging to get whumped honestly. the only solution is to become transgender and change your name to erin, which sounds exactly the same but does not have the scream. like aa what are we even talking about can we be fucking forreal AA

[dr-george-ordell]

Holy shit i have no idea what is happening but poor Aaron needs a rest 😭

Thaumiel

@imadewritingmyjob

The lights flicker. She winces; it’s static where the back roots of her hair begin.

It’s been like this since the meeting. She presses the button. He screams. The scar wrapped around her neck burns. The one on her cheek creeps higher.

She twitches: eye contact with him scrambles her thoughts. They’re made of electricity, too.

The lights go out. The back of her head goes numb. The absence is sudden. It scared her the first time it happened, but it’s almost easier when he does it now.

She focuses on what he does to her, and he can just be another anomaly.

He forces her to look, he can still do that—thank god he can still do that—and he speaks, voice burnt at the edges. It’s just static in her head. It hurts, like everything else.

“Stop, please, it’s not helping, I want to go back as much as you want me to—”

She narrows her eyes, nudges his guilt. He shuts up. He wouldn’t be here and she wouldn’t be falling apart if he loved her as much as he claims he does. She needs him back. His absence is worse than a breach.

She’s hungry. It’s so cold in this room, her facilities empty without him watching them all, and she’s so hungry. She’s enfolded him in her arms and searched for the warmth she needs but it’s gone, or dammed at the source. She refuses to believe it’s gone.

She moves closer, feels nothing, and then anger fills the absence. It’s a poor substitute.

She watches him shudder at her closeness. She pulled on his arm when she was little and he looked the age he was and he never complained, and the memory of that is a good enough reason to press the button again.

He’s thrashing. Maybe it’ll be good enough to break the dam.

She checks. It isn’t.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” he pleads. The graphs on the screens behind him spike and dip. “You’re making it worse—”

She presses down on the floor instead of the button. Concrete crumbles under her fingers. She’s hurting herself, but it’s too small to feel.

“How could I be making it worse?” she grits out, moving her mouth as little as possible. She’s shaking inside, from the cold fear he’s feeding her and the burning vice around her throat. Her stone mask has been ground down to sand. Pieces fall when he pleads.

He sounds so little like the numbered man who gave her both of her names. He still has a number, but a different one, and it’s wrong, so she thinks of him with the first.

“It hurts, more when you do it, just get away from me I can’t go back like this!” his voice climbs higher and louder and so does her anger, in tandem. Impulsively, she slams a flying wrist to the floor, ignoring his violent shudder at the touch.

“I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME!”

His words would have been law, if he was where she needed him.

“I will, once you get yourself under control!” she snaps back. “I’m helping you. I could have just left you in a cell to rot, but I’m still trying!”

She’d fare worse than him in that case. It doesn’t matter. His eyes still widen at her words, he can’t look at her, his chest is heaving.

She waits for a response, glares down at him. No one else is here—though she is everyone else—and the cameras have cut out. The only noises are the humming of the remaining machines and his panting. She tosses the remote to the side and sits there with her hand around the hard bone of his wrist, still searching for warmth. The lines on the graphs drop.

They both needed a break.

Then he shudders again, his face contorting, and she senses the tears about to break through. She weakens whenever he’s like this.

“Don’t.”

He stops, surprisingly, but his eyes are too reflective when they finally meet hers.

“…You—we—need to find another way, Ira.”

And finally, there’s a flash of warmth. She snatches it away immediately; he hiccups. But it belonged to her, because she’s the avatar of the SCP Foundation and Ira Siegel, and she’s the reason he lives.

With the satisfaction comes a bit of her old detachment, so Ira smiles. “Yes, Overseer One.”

[tempest-toss]

Thought bubble + A memory of one of his transformations from Four for Aaron Siegel!

((tw: mention of animal death and a suggestive scene near the end? (If you'd like I can go back and take it out))

You step into the forest's opening, ready for the night that awaits you. One of your lingering effects of being the embodiment of nature was your transformations, and tonight was the night. You look up into the bright, full moon.

You felt the tingle in your hands first. You were comfortable with the transformation now that you've done it for thousands of years, but it still sometimes hurt. Fur grew along your hands as your fingers sharpened into claws

You felt your ears disappear, being replaced with one on the top of your head. You could feel your organs preparing to increase in size. Speaking of which, you felt yourself getting stronger and stronger; you were glad you remembered to change into cheap, loose clothing.

As your legs shifted and arched into that admittedly awkward formation, you eased the pain by getting down on all fours. Your teeth began to sharpen as your muscles swelled larger along with the rest of your body, your bones and organs also growing to help. Your feet burst the sandals you wore as your feet became more wolf-like, with your toes becoming claws that dig into the ground.

Finally, a large bushy tail burst through right above your posterior, followed by fur finally finishing covering you entirely as your snout finished forming. With a jump to your two feet and the opening of your bright yellow eyes you let out a mighty howl.

With the transformation over you look over yourself. It seems you've grown again. Your muscles from your biceps, pecs, abs, and others have increased in mass, and you can tell from your vantage point that you're much taller. A few breaths confirm that your lungs also increased in size as well. It seems the growth affected all areas of you. You think with a smile how fun an evening with your husbands will be the next time you see them, they most certainly will enjoy this.

But alas, there are more pressing matters at hand. The transformation, even though you ate prior, has left you hungry. While human flesh does sound appetizing, you promised your husbands you'd limit the consumption to alleviate their fears of you eating them (They don't know you are immune but it's harmless to entertain them). With a burst of energy, you bound into the darkness, ready to consume livestock.