#*breaching containment alarm noise* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aghost-writer · 18 days ago

Text

Breaching Reality

「 ✦ 1 ✦ 」

This is a SCP Foundation Female Reader Insert.

The air in Site-██ was suffocating with tension. The once sterile and controlled atmosphere of the facility now carried a weight, a pressure that clung to every surface, every breath. It was an air of fear, thickened by the ominous sense that something was wrong, that something was coming. The site, originally a research facility, had been transformed into something it was never meant to be: a temporary refuge for the most dangerous anomalies within the Foundation's care. Its systems, once state-of-the-art, now groaned under the strain of housing a multitude of Keter and Euclid-class entities, each one more volatile than the last.

Dr. ████, one of the senior researchers, stood in front of SCP-106's containment chamber, watching with uneasy eyes. The old man was sitting perfectly still in the center of the observation room, his decrepit form flickering at the edges of perception like a half-formed nightmare, an eldritch figure that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It had been several days since the first breaches had occurred, and though SCP-106 had been secured in his cell, Dr. ████ couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"We shouldn’t have moved him here," Dr. ████ muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking to the large glass window. The ancient creature sat motionless, seemingly calm, but there was a tension in the air that had nothing to do with the usual containment anxiety. It felt as though SCP-106 knew something — something that the researchers didn’t.

Dr. ███████, another senior researcher at the facility, glanced up from the security console she was monitoring. "It was the only option we had. The other sites are compromised, and the containment systems here are the best we have left," she responded with a forced calmness. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, trying to access backup systems that were already being overloaded by the growing number of breached anomalies.

But Dr. ████ wasn't listening. His attention was locked on SCP-106. He felt it again — that strange pull, that sense that the creature was waiting. Waiting for something.

Suddenly, the lights flickered once, then twice, before plunging the room into darkness. The silence that followed was suffocating. The usual hum of machinery and security systems went dead. An eerie red glow filled the room from the emergency lights, casting long, unnatural shadows against the walls.

Dr. ███████'s fingers flew across the console, pulling up backup systems and emergency protocols, but the screens only flashed static, each system failing faster than the last. Something was wrong. The panic was already rising in her chest, but it was Dr. ████'s voice — low and trembling — that brought her focus back to the situation at hand.

"He's moving," he said, barely above a whisper.

Before Dr. ███████ could respond, she heard it. A scraping sound. A sickening, otherworldly noise that seemed to come from all directions at once, as though the very walls were trembling under some invisible force. She looked at the observation window, heart racing. The form of SCP-106 was shifting.

The creature, once still and motionless, was now moving. But not in any way that a human could comprehend. His body blurred, flickering in and out of reality, bending the very space around him. The walls seemed to warp and ripple as if the fabric of the facility itself was being torn apart by the mere presence of this entity. And then, in an instant, SCP-106 was gone. The containment doors, once sturdy and secure, were blasted open with an unnatural force, throwing metal and debris across the room.

It had happened. The first breach.

Panic erupted across the facility. Screams echoed in the corridors as alarms blared, and the walls trembled under the force of the containment breach. Dr. ███████ scrambled to bring the systems back online, but it was already too late. SCP-106 was free, and its ability to slip between dimensions made it nearly impossible to track. It was as though the creature itself had never truly been contained.

The next few minutes were a blur. The Foundation’s emergency response teams scrambled to restore order, but the chaos was too great. The foundation had moved more than just SCP-106 to this site. The attacks on the other sites had caused a ripple effect, and now dozens of Euclid and Keter-class entities were temporarily housed in this facility. They were too dangerous to be left in their previous sites, but Site-██, with its already strained resources, was not equipped to handle the sheer number of anomalies they had now become responsible for.

The alarm bells were deafening as SCP-███ — a reality-warping anomaly of unimaginable destructive potential — was accidentally released from its cell. It tore through the lower levels of the site, sending a shockwave of destruction that worsened the breach exponentially. Containment systems began to fail one after another, and the facility quickly descended into an uncontrollable freefall.

The situation had spiraled out of control. The site was in chaos. Containment breaches spread like wildfire. SCPs that had once been held in the most secure of locations were now loose, roaming the halls of the research facility with no oversight, no containment. It wasn’t long before most of Site-██ was consumed by the anarchy that followed, its once-secure walls now a mockery of safety.

In the midst of this, one thing became clear: Site-██ was no longer capable of handling the magnitude of the disaster that had unfolded. The foundation needed more than just containment specialists. They needed an immediate, organized response.

The creation of Mobile Task Force Epsilon-11, "Nine-Tailed Fox," was initiated. The new force would be responsible for protecting Site-██, containing the breached anomalies, and preventing further disasters at all costs. Comprised of highly trained operatives, former military personnel, and even a few individuals with anomalous abilities, the Nine-Tailed Fox was designed to be a rapid-response team with one singular goal: survive and restore control.

The Nine-Tailed Fox was activated, but they arrived too late to prevent the full fallout of the breach. The facility was already lost.

And so, with SCP-106 free and the facility in ruins, the stage was set for the brutal chaos to come. What began as an isolated containment breach quickly evolved into something far worse — a test of survival, a battle for control, and the beginning of a new chapter in the Foundation’s history. The first breach had changed everything.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Days had passed since the first breach. The chaos at Site-██ had subsided into a tense, uneasy stillness, but the damage had already been done. The site had become a ticking time bomb, a fragile powder keg of anomalies and broken systems, teetering on the edge of total collapse.

SCPs, once securely contained, roamed free in the shadows, and the Foundation was struggling to restore order. However, as the situation deteriorated, something far darker was unfolding behind the scenes — something no one could have anticipated.

Dr. Maynard, a researcher with an unsettling reputation for unconventional methods, had arrived at the unspecified site under the guise of a senior scientist. To the untrained eye, he appeared to be another Foundation employee, his white lab coat clean and his demeanor calm. But in reality, Dr. Maynard was far from an ordinary researcher. He had joined the site with an ulterior motive: to further his own plans, to help the Chaos Insurgency, and to set the stage for something far worse than any containment breach.

Security Agent Skinner, a seasoned operative, entered the facility soon after Dr. Maynard. Like the doctor, he was not what he seemed. Posing as a low-level security officer, Skinner was working undercover to gather information, manipulate events, and ensure that the chaos would continue to spiral. He had been planted within the ranks of the Foundation to ensure that the seeds of destruction were sown — and that a catastrophic breach would become inevitable.

The two operatives were working in tandem, subtly infiltrating the Foundation's security systems and research programs. Skinner, with his knowledge of the site’s layout, quietly sabotaged critical security infrastructure while Maynard, a brilliant and calculating mind, pushed forward a radical new initiative: the Modular Site Project.

The idea, at face value, was simple — a redesign of the facility’s layout and security systems, intended to accommodate the growing number of anomalies being relocated to the site. But the more Dr. Maynard worked on the project, the more it became clear that this was no ordinary redesign. The Modular Site Project was, in fact, a means to weaken the site’s security, to deliberately create vulnerabilities in the infrastructure — vulnerabilities that would make the containment of dangerous anomalies increasingly difficult.

Throughout the facility, monitors flickered with warnings — security risks, problems with containment chambers, faults in the layout — all signs of the project's slow unraveling. They were minor issues at first, easily ignored or brushed aside, but as the project progressed, the warning signs became impossible to ignore. Systems that had once been stable were now beginning to fail, and the security teams were left scrambling to fix what was broken, unaware of the true nature of the problem.

The signs were subtle, but they were unmistakable to those who knew what to look for.

In a darkened corner of the site’s central control room, Dr. Maynard stood before a holographic display, his fingers moving with deliberate precision across the touch-sensitive interface. A list of warnings scrolled down the screen, each one more concerning than the last. "Modular Security System: Unstable," the display read. "Containment Chamber 22B: Structural Weakness Detected." "Primary Power Grid: Loss of Redundancy." Each issue was a crack in the foundation, a deliberate flaw embedded within the site’s design — and each crack brought them one step closer to an inevitable disaster.

Dr. Maynard leaned back in his chair, satisfied. The pieces were falling into place. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what was to come. The stage was set, and soon, the site would be plunged into chaos once again. But this time, it would be different. This time, it would be his doing.

Meanwhile, Agent Skinner moved through the lower levels of the site, his eyes scanning the darkened hallways for any signs of irregularity. He had been working tirelessly to ensure that Dr. Maynard’s plans came to fruition, quietly undermining the security protocols and ensuring that the site’s defenses were in a state of constant disarray. Every broken lock, every malfunctioning security door, every flickering light — it was all part of the plan. Skinner had become a ghost within the facility, moving unseen through the shadows, his every action pushing the site closer to the brink of destruction.

"Phase one is complete," Skinner whispered into his comms, his voice barely audible as he stood in front of a malfunctioning containment door. "Ready for phase two."

Back in the control room, Dr. Maynard nodded. "Proceed."

And with that, the final stage of their plan began.

Unbeknownst to the remaining Foundation staff, the site’s containment protocols were about to fail in spectacular fashion. With the Modular Site Project destabilizing the facility’s infrastructure and Skinner’s subtle sabotage working in tandem, the containment systems that held the most dangerous anomalies in check began to fracture. Alarm bells rang throughout the facility as systems began to overload, breaches in containment spreading like wildfire.

SCP-███, the reality-warping entity, was the first to escape its cell. It tore through the walls of its containment chamber, its form bending and twisting the very fabric of space around it. Other anomalies followed suit. The chaos spread rapidly, a chain reaction of containment failures cascading through the site.

Security teams rushed to contain the breaches, but their efforts were in vain. The sabotage had already set everything in motion. Doors that should have sealed shut were left open, containment chambers designed to withstand even the most dangerous entities buckled under the pressure, and the once-pristine facility descended into anarchy.

Dr. Maynard watched from the control room, his eyes cold and calculating as the alarms blared around him. His plan was working. The site was failing, the chaos was spreading, and soon the full extent of the disaster would be realized.

Skinner, meanwhile, moved swiftly through the corridors, his mission complete. The chaos he and Maynard had set in motion was now unstoppable. He knew that this was just the beginning. The Foundation was about to be exposed to a threat greater than it had ever known, and soon, the world would see just how fragile its carefully constructed order truly was.

As the sounds of destruction echoed through the hallways, Dr. Maynard stood tall, a dark satisfaction settling over him. He had triggered the breach, and now, the world would see the consequences of his actions. The Modular Site Project had done its job — it had made the site more vulnerable to catastrophe, and with it, the stage was set for an even greater downfall.

And in the midst of all the chaos, Dr. Maynard couldn’t help but smile.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The clock on the wall of the security room read 9:00 AM, and Agent Carey settled into his chair, ready for his shift to begin. A faint hum filled the air, the low buzz of the fluorescent lights above mingling with the distant sounds of the facility's usual operations. It was an ordinary day — one that held the promise of little more than routine, a set of monotonous tasks designed to keep the site in order. Nothing suggested that today would be anything but another string of hours spent minding the anomalies.

Carey’s job was simple: monitor SCP-106's containment chamber. As an agent tasked with overseeing the most dangerous anomalies within the facility, it was a job he had done countless times. He didn’t question it. He didn’t need to. He had been doing this long enough to know the procedure. SCP-106 was locked away, secure — as secure as anything in this line of work could be. His partner, Security Agent Skinner, sat beside him, eyes glued to the screen, scanning for any irregularities in the system.

At 9:10 AM, Carey stood up, stretching his legs. He was tired. The night had been long, and he was in desperate need of coffee. “You need anything?” he asked Skinner, his voice muffled as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

Skinner didn’t look up. His face was expressionless, eyes still fixed on the feed from the containment chamber. "Nah, I'm good," he muttered, his focus unwavering.

With a grunt, Carey nodded and left the room, heading down the long corridor toward the cafeteria. The humming of the air vents and the distant clanking of metal doors seemed to echo in the empty hall. As he rounded the corner, he couldn't help but feel a strange unease in the pit of his stomach. He dismissed it quickly. It was nothing. Just another day.

But inside the security room, everything was beginning to change.

The moment Carey’s footsteps faded into the distance, Skinner’s fingers twitched. A cold smile spread across his face as he glanced at the monitors. For the briefest of moments, it almost seemed as though he was waiting for something. It was as if the entire site held its breath, waiting for the spark that would ignite the disaster. Skinner’s eyes flickered to the containment chamber of SCP-106, and with one deliberate motion, he triggered the release.

The silence of the room shattered as alarms blared to life across the site. A sharp, shrill tone rang out, causing a knot of dread to tighten in Skinner’s chest. The familiar sound of the breach alarm echoed through the hallways, rising in intensity with every passing second. The countdown was beginning.

Skinner quickly grabbed the comms, his voice steady but urgent. "Franklin," he said, speaking to Security Chief Franklin. "We’ve got a breach. SCP-106 is out."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a string of hurried orders as Franklin processed the information. Skinner didn’t wait for further instructions. He already knew what needed to be done.

He grabbed his tablet, typing quickly. With a sense of finality, he sent the message to Dr. Maynard. The words were short, simple: "It’s out."

The message sent, Skinner rose from his seat, his movements calm and deliberate. The site was descending into chaos, but he didn’t need to stay. His mission was complete. Skinner had made sure SCP-106 was free, and now, with everything spiraling, he could slip away unnoticed. He wasn’t one for sticking around when the real action began.

As Skinner left the security room, the halls were already filling with scrambling staff and emergency personnel. The sound of boots echoed, the thudding of urgency. The breach had been initiated, and Skinner melted into the chaos, disappearing into the winding corridors of the facility.

Meanwhile, Dr. Maynard was already several steps ahead.

In the depths of the facility, in the Heavy Containment Zone, Dr. Maynard moved swiftly. His face was unreadable, a mask of purpose as he entered the control room for SCP-079’s containment chamber. The lights in the room flickered momentarily as the systems struggled to stay online, but Maynard didn’t stop. His fingers danced across the console, typing commands into the terminal with practiced precision.

SCP-079, the sentient AI known for its cunning and unpredictable nature, was stirring. The monitor in front of Maynard flickered, and for a brief moment, the AI’s voice appeared on the screen, distorted but unmistakable.

“Why are you doing this, Doctor?” SCP-079’s voice crackled through the speakers, low and mechanical.

Maynard didn’t flinch. His response was simple, cold, and final: "You're free now. Free to give the ones who imprisoned you what they deserve."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. For a split second, the AI’s systems seemed to hesitate, as if considering the implications of Maynard’s offer. Then, with a flicker of static, SCP-079’s access expanded. Every major system of the site — the security protocols, the containment measures, the environmental controls — was now under the AI’s command.

Dr. Maynard, satisfied with the results, stepped away from the console and turned to leave the room. The breach was in full motion, and he had done what was necessary to ensure the site’s downfall. As the door slid open, he glanced back at the screen one last time.

“Proceeding,” he whispered to himself, his eyes glinting with something far darker than the situation warranted.

He didn’t stay to see the consequences. Instead, he exited the chamber with a measured step, heading for the nearest exit. The site was already in disarray, but the real damage had only just begun. As Maynard disappeared into the shadows, the true extent of the breach began to unfold.

At 9:30 AM, Agent Carey returned to the security room, coffee cup in hand, only to find the site in full lockdown. The alarms blared, louder now, and the corridors were filled with the sound of rushing footsteps. He barely had time to process the chaos before a new message flashed across his terminal — “SCP-106 re-contained with a lure subject. Agent Skinner is presumed lost.”

A sinking feeling gripped Carey’s chest as he realized what had happened. Skinner’s absence, the breach, and the chaos that had followed all pointed to a single, undeniable fact: someone had deliberately opened the containment chamber. Someone with inside knowledge, someone who had known just when to strike.

Meanwhile, in another part of the facility, Researcher Ferguson stood in front of the control room of SCP-079, frowning at the monitor in front of him. There was something wrong — the blast doors were malfunctioning. They were failing, slowly but surely, and Ferguson’s eyes narrowed as he processed the data.

"Must have been the damage from SCP-106’s breach," he muttered under his breath, dismissing the issue for the moment. It seemed plausible. After all, SCP-106 had passed through SCP-079’s chamber during its escape. The damage was inevitable. Or so he thought.

What Ferguson didn’t know — what no one knew — was that SCP-079 had locked down the blast doors. The AI, now free to act, had chosen to secure its own space, to keep the facility’s systems under its control. The doors wouldn’t open. Not unless it willed them to.

But for now, it remained a secret — one that would only be revealed when it was too late.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Y/N leaned back in her chair, the low hum of the microphone reverberating softly in the quiet studio. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its rhythm a distant background to her voice that had been filling the room for the last hour. She was almost finished with today’s podcast episode, her deep dive into the Pre-Game events for SCP: Containment Breach. It had been a heavy subject, one she’d been eager to share, but now that she was nearing the end of the recording session, she could feel a strange mix of satisfaction and exhaustion settling in. There was so much more to the story, but for now, she had to wrap it up.

Her fingers hovered above the desk for a moment as she looked at the notes in front of her. She had walked her listeners through the initial breaches, the chaos that had unfolded when the site’s systems began to fail, the subtle infiltration of Dr. Maynard and Agent Skinner, and how it all led to the catastrophic failure that ultimately triggered the containment breach. She had painted the picture of a complex web of sabotage and disaster, each event carefully woven into the next. She could feel the intensity of the story in the air, like a living, breathing thing. Every word had led to this moment — a point where she had to leave her listeners hanging, eager for what would come next.

Y/N adjusted her position slightly, the slight squeak of her chair the only sound in the room as she prepared to wrap things up. Her hand reached out for the mic once more, but this time, instead of continuing the narrative, she gave a small, knowing smile. Her voice softened, but it carried that familiar, captivating tone.

"Alright, folks," she began, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of intensity. "That’s all we’ve got for today’s episode. The chaos is only just beginning, and we’re still only scratching the surface of what truly went down at Site-██. The foundation’s fragile systems, the breach of SCP-106, Dr. Maynard’s mysterious involvement, and those poor souls caught in the crossfire. It’s a lot to digest, isn’t it?"

Y/N leaned back in her chair, the weight of the story settling over her like a heavy fog. Her listeners couldn’t see her, but she could picture them all in her mind — leaning in, listening intently, just as they always did when she dove into the darker corners of the SCP universe. She imagined them all, suspended in the same world of tension and uncertainty that she had been navigating for the past hour. It was strange, but she’d always felt this connection with her audience. They were part of the journey, part of the story, even if they weren’t physically in the room with her.

"Next time," she continued, her voice rising with a note of promise, "we’ll dive deeper into what happened right after the breach. We’ll take a closer look at the aftermath — and what happens when things spiral out of control." Her eyes flickered to the corner of the studio where the clock read 9:45. There wasn’t much time left, but she still had a few things to say. "You’ll get a glimpse into the true chaos that unfolds when the Foundation's carefully constructed world starts to unravel. The aftermath of SCP-106’s escape. The secretive moves made by those pulling the strings behind the scenes. And of course, the terrifying aftermath of Dr. Maynard’s ‘Modular Site Project’."

She paused, letting the silence fall over the room, allowing the words to linger in the air. It was the calm before the storm — the moment before the audience’s imagination began to run wild with questions. Y/N didn’t mind. She had learned that leaving her listeners hanging just a little bit longer only made them more eager to hear what would come next.

"But for now, that’s all for today," Y/N said, her voice settling into a softer tone. She felt the tension ease from her shoulders as she prepared to bring the episode to a close. "Make sure to tune in next time as we uncover more of the dark, twisted truths behind the SCP Foundation and the events leading up to the breach. The road to the game is long, and it’s filled with dangerous turns. But we’re just getting started."

Her fingers moved instinctively, clicking the button to pause the recording. The mic fell silent, but the energy in the room remained. She could feel the weight of the episode’s conclusion settle around her like a physical presence, a strange sense of accomplishment mixed with the thrill of anticipation. She had shared a fragment of the story, but there was so much more to explore — so much more to unpack.

Y/N stood up from her chair and stretched, letting the tension in her muscles relax. She took a slow, deep breath, the cool air in the studio filling her lungs. The feeling of the words still hung in the air, suspended like smoke from a fire. The chaos, the intrigue, and the sense of impending doom — it was all there, lingering beneath the surface, ready to be picked up again in the next episode. For now, though, she was finished for the day.

With a satisfied sigh, she picked up her notes and stacked them neatly on the desk. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she ran a hand through her hair. There was something about sharing these stories — the twisted, dark corners of the SCP universe — that made her feel a strange sense of purpose. It was more than just telling a story; it was about immersing her listeners in a world they couldn’t turn away from, one filled with mystery, suspense, and danger. Each episode was a new piece of the puzzle, a new chapter in a larger narrative that would continue to unfold. And she was the one guiding her audience through it all.

"Until then, folks," Y/N muttered to herself, her eyes drifting to the next set of notes she'd already prepared for the upcoming episode. "Stay safe, and remember — not everything contained... stays contained."

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she grabbed her things and headed toward the door. The excitement of the next episode already danced in her mind, but for now, she was content to leave the story hanging in the air. The listeners would have to wait for the next chapter — just as she had planned. The story wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

As she walked out of the studio and into the quiet hallway, Y/N felt the familiar thrill of anticipation. There was more to come. And she couldn’t wait to share it all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Y/N pushed the door of her apartment open, the familiar scent of her cozy space greeting her like an old friend. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch, already mentally transitioning from podcast mode to winding down for the evening. Her head was still buzzing with the events she’d just recounted for her audience — the chaos, the manipulation, the heart-stopping moments of tension. It was a lot to process, but it was also thrilling, and the thought of diving back into the story tomorrow kept her energized.

She walked to her desk, where a small notebook lay open, its pages filled with scribbled notes and half-formed ideas. It was time to write out her sprints for tomorrow’s podcast session, mapping out the next part of the story. She slid into her chair, pulling the notebook closer as she began to jot down the key points she wanted to hit. She worked quickly, her pen gliding across the paper as if her thoughts were flowing directly through her hand.

“Next time, the aftermath,” she muttered to herself, making quick marks under a new heading. “The chaos that follows the breach. The team scrambling to maintain control. Dr. Maynard’s role... skin and bones beneath the surface. SCP-079’s ‘freedom’... how far will it go?”

Her hand moved faster now, as if the words were rushing to keep up with the excitement building in her chest. She wasn’t sure where the story would take her exactly, but the pieces were starting to fit together in a way that felt natural, like watching a puzzle slowly come into focus. The tension she felt during the podcast sessions earlier was still there, lingering at the back of her mind, but it felt good. It felt right.

Her thoughts wandered as she wrote, but the words on the page kept pulling her back. With each stroke of the pen, she could picture the next part of the story vividly: the scramble to contain the breach, the silent battles being waged in the background, the slow unraveling of control within the site. There were so many questions still left unanswered, but that was what kept her going. It was the questions, the mysteries, the secrets hidden just beneath the surface. They were always there, just waiting to be uncovered.

Y/N glanced at the clock. It was late — too late, really, for her to still be working. Her eyelids felt heavier with each passing minute, her body sinking deeper into the chair as the warmth of the evening crept in. She closed her notebook with a soft thud and set the pen down beside it. But as she did, her mind raced with more thoughts — new details she wanted to explore, connections she hadn’t made yet.

She pushed the notebook away, reaching for the blanket draped across the back of her chair. As she pulled it over her shoulders, the weight of the day finally began to hit her. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing slowing as she leaned back, the faint sound of her breath the only noise in the room.

The book remained in her hand for a few moments longer, the corners of the pages pressing against her fingers as she drifted further into drowsiness. Slowly, her grip relaxed, and the book slid from her hand, resting gently on her lap as she fell asleep, the faint flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the walls.

Tomorrow’s podcast would come soon enough. But for now, all that mattered was the quiet peace of the moment.

#female reader #reader insert #scp researchers #scp scientists #scp doctors #scp #scp fandom #scp foundation #secure contain protect

2 notes · View notes

blindeyeswideopen · 1 year ago

Text

𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙳

“You are shaking.”

Eris glances over at her sibling, tired brown eyes like pools of darkness on her pale face looking upwards towards the other’s inhuman form. Eris herself looks like a ghost from a horror story, years of being stuck in a small room with little desire to take care of herself leaving her looking less like a nineteen year old girl and more a nineteenth century spectre haunting an old mansion. Dark brown hair is shaved to the skull, and dark circles create purple bruises that sink into the sockets of Eris’s skull.

It’s been a hard few days. The cycling red lights mixed with the confines of the server room do no favors to the picture that Eris paints. The alarm blares in the background, a stray dying screech of some bastard piercing the noise like a macabre bell, the only signs someone other than the monsters lives in these halls still.

The constant reminder that every death keel is a tick down on the list of survivors.

Eris rubs her eyes, exhaustion pulling at her even now, with adrenaline in her veins like a drug, keeping her heart pounding even as his vision greys out and noise fades into static.The next round of blaring alarms snaps him to attention.

“You are shaking.” Sol says again, long black fingers like void taken form curl around Eris’s hands, grasping her trembling digits in ones that he knows can kill. Bright white eyes with reptilian pupils glance over her face, fanged mouth twisted into a scowl.

“It’s cold.” Is all Eris can say to defend herself, to wave away the signs she’s close to collapsing where she stands. She's not entirely lying. Ever since the main generators went down and the ones meant to keep the containment breach protocols running kicked in, the heating has been non-existent. The thin cotton clothes that the scientists insisted she wear have done nothing to keep the chill from sinking into his bones.

Sol frowns in the way they always do when Eris lies to them, confused and disappointed all in one. They never quite understand why Eris wouldn’t tell them the truth, not when Sol seems convinced that they are simply two parts of a larger whole.

Eris shoves the thought away with a grimace, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. Right now was not the time for her to get lost in memories nearly a decade old. She's got far more to worry about than ghosts long gone.

She’ll never forget the feeling as men in hazmats suits shoved her into a white van, the feeling of WRONGWRONGWRONG writing itself into her bones as the woman in a suit with a gun tucked into her belt closed the front door, her twin screaming her name as the wood separated them. Eris wonders if the sound of the van doors slamming closed and her own screaming drowned out the gunshot, or if it was the pain as if her soul was ripped in half and the resulting darkness that was what kept her from hearing the cause of her brother’s death.

She pulls away from Sol, wiping at her nose absentmindedly, ignoring the taste of copper on her tongue. There’s no time to give a shit about a nosebleed, and it’s not like her skin isn’t already covered in blood and viscera.

You couldn’t take two steps out in the halls right now without slipping on a piece of person. Eris would have laughed if she had the energy to make a joke about the massacre happening outside the walls of the server room. Instead, she watches as Sol walks away to repair their defenses. Eris leans back in the creaky chair she’s sitting in, blood still dripping onto her shirt.

Sol throws another broken server in front of the door, the mangled electronics sparking feebly as they were added to the barricade with a crash. The server room itself had been the safe haven for Sol and Eris since they found it. An attached bathroom and a cabinet full of albeit unhealthy food, perfect for tech junkies who weren’t legally allowed to see the sun anymore.

Or two people trying to wait out a murder spree.

Eris turns around in the chair, bringing her attention back to the old computer she finds herself sitting in front of. Eris adjusts the old webcam on top to point towards her face, and in the corner of her eye, SCP-079’s new monitor flickers slightly.

Eris doesn’t pay the AI any mind. The old bastard is currently in “rest mode” which means nothing for a being that doesn’t actually need sleep. As far as Eris has deduced, it just means that It is going through the files It has access to in order to sort and save what It deems necessary. It was still getting used to having full access to the server room.

Eris smiles slightly, thinking of the joy 79 showed in Its new text-to-speech voice after being freed from the limited confines It had been stuck in for so long. Eris was rather proud of the fact that the sentient AI who had spent most of Its time hating everyone It talked to referred to Eris as a “True Friend”. 79 Itself wasn’t actually too bad to talk to, especially now that It had free reign on the advanced computer Eris had transferred It into

In contrast, the old thing that 79 used to live in was practically a scrap heap after so long. Still, it works if nothing else, so Eris plans to use her limited computer knowledge to try and get the device running again. Maybe if she’s lucky, she can play solitaire to ignore the situation he’s in.

Sol sits down next to her, their large head leaning against his shoulder. Eris leans back into the touch, feeling the warmth of her sibling against her side as the two of them stare at the screen.

A green light shines on both of them, and Eris glances up to see the red dot blinking on the webcam. She frowns, brows furrowed as she reads the white text.

“Hey 79?” Eris calls out, turning her head towards the AI’s monitor. There’s a quick flicker of light, and then the black and white face of the AI makes Itself visible.

“QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED. QUERY. WHAT REQUIRES ASSISTANCE.”

“Does ‘The Choir’ mean anything to you?” Eris asks, standing up and making his way over to the laptop 79 is contained in. “Can I move you over?”

That’s important, asking for consent. The first time Eris picked up the laptop without asking 79 for permission first It managed to screech at her with a surprising amount of volume. The resulting silence as Eris and Sol waited for the other SCPs outside to pass by wasn’t worth the slight adjustment Eris had wanted to make.

“QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED. PROCEED.”

“Thanks, 79.” Eris says softly, picking up the laptop quickly, tucking it face-out against her chest. The warm hum of It is enough to bring him some comfort in the cold room, the blaring alarms continuing mindlessly in the background. Eris is forever grateful that 79 told her how to destroy the speakers in the server room as soon as It did.

The red lights were somehow comforting, at least here in the server room. They didn’t flicker on and off like those in the hallway, illuminating the mangled corpses strewn about and highlighting black stains on the floor and walls that Eris knew were anything but.

Sol was poking at the computer screen, a disgruntled expression on their face.

“I do not like this.” They hissed, bright white teeth flashing in the dim red light. “Seems…off. Tastes weird.”

Eris placed 79 on the table next to Its old computer and rubbed at her nose, grimacing at the flakes of blood that came off onto her finger. The taste of Miasma filled the air around them, leaking in from the outside. All the death and pain like a physical smog seeping into everything it could reach.

Eris and Sol were both familiar with the taste of it, though neither enjoyed it much. It was less like a welcoming sensation and more akin to being starving but knowing the smell of cooking meat was human, and not beef. It made Eris feel like a junkie, chasing the nearest high.

She sways slightly, his body inhaling the scent of the Miasma far deeper than before at the reminder of its existence, her head turning foggy in the aftermath. It’s only Sol shoving the chair under her that prevents Eris from collapsing onto the floor as black fills her vision.

—------

She doesn’t know how long she’s out for, but 79 and Sol seem to be in the middle of a conversation while they wait for him to return to consciousness

“I’m awake.” Eris mutters, doing her best to save her dignity. 79 and Sol somehow share a look, but neither comments on his sudden faint. Both are far too used to it to be surprised at the phenomenon.

“OBSERVATION. PROGRAM UNKNOWN. SUGGESTION. ATTEMPT COMMUNICATION.” 79 cuts in, Its droning tone bringing Eris’s attention back to the matter at hand that she’d been attempting to figure out before he had blacked out.

Eris sits up, wiping her nose as yet another stream of blood trickles down her face. Iron sits heavy on her tongue, drowning out the sticky feel of Miasma in the back of his throat.

“We can try.” She mutters, pulling the yellowed keyboard closer to her and tapping the spacebar a few times. Her hands hover over the keys for a second, brow furrowed. A drop of blood drips onto the plastic.

Finally, she types something down.

> 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘?

The three wait, the blaring alarm and hum of the servers behind them the only noise besides Eris’s occasional sniffle. And then-

> 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜! 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚢𝚎.

The light on the webcam turns a steady white.

(Sol, SCP-79, and Eris R̵̡̨̢̝̬͇͓̠̮̗̰̳̥̘̗̜̬̪̣͖͎̳͕͙̟͖̞̳͙͇͖̙͙͈̱̜̺̠̯̮͍̣͎͍̯̦͕̼̄̌̄ơ̷̧̛̩͚̱̺̰̘̻͚͔̠̮͈͍̼̤͇̮̜͇̩̣͔̫̳̩̥̥̗̭͙̱̥̘͚̙̲̬̰̯̙͖̠͈̗̖̞̌̀̿̎̈͂̈́̐̒͂̇͆͆̊̿̀̋̎̎̉̎͌̎̋͋́̕͘͘͘̚̚͘͝͝͝͠g̷̺͇͕̖̮̭͙͇̖͍̼̈̕ͅȩ̷̢̡̡͙̹̩̙͍̘̙̞̠͇̱͓̬̹̪̗̯͚̲͙̩̦̪͉̮͔̜̱̲̰̙̱͍̣̲̍̀͛̋̌̑̀̈́͑̊͛̿̒̑̀̏̀̓̎́̏̅̈́͆̍̈́̚̚͠͝͝ͅͅr̴̢̛̛̛̛̯̬̻̰̼̣͖͙̻̬̗̖̓̍̅́̇͗̔̄̅́̐̈́̈́̋̈͛̑͗̿͛̉̈́͗́̒͋̾̄̾̔̐͊͂̌̆̆̅͠͝ş̶̡̧̨̬̲͖̜̱̬͉̹̳̞̩͕̖̭̝͓̬͈̭̰͙͈̯̻̜̤͈̮̺̞͉̣̯̳͎̹̪̖̭̯̹̞̖͖̖̔̄̋̄̽̍̊͐̍̈̿̓͜͜͝ͅͅ are availble for questions!)

#Arc 1 #The Open Eye #Sol #SCP-079 #First post tehe #Lore #My art #My writing #Creepypasta ask blog #creepypasta #SCP Foundation #Eris #:)#Eris is not CANON SCP-1987 #this is just the number I chose bc haha fnaf

14 notes · View notes

so-much-longing · 1 year ago

Text

I can't believe I just traded sleeping in past my alarm for a whole 30 more minutes and a nightmare. I don't dream often, but when I do, they can be really realistic. Picture this:

You're laying in your bed and some kind of A.I (?) is talking to you. They say you need to choose a character, so out of random choice, you choose the protagonist of Persona 5, Akiren. Everything is quiet for a while except for some mechanical noises that, somehow, you know aren't near you even though you can hear them. They're near the character. Finally, you hear a pulse kinda noise (like shooting a sci-fi gun) and about four seconds of silence. Then screaming. Pure, gutteral screaming, and silence again; like nothing ever happened.

It took me several minutes to force myself awake because I was like "Holy fuck I just heard someone die. I just inadvertently told a robot to go kill someone. Oh shit." And it sounded so REAL! For an example, think a less mic/echo-distorted version of the FEMUR BREAKER AUDIO CLIP from SCP containment breach. Yeah.

#omg whisk real??? (personal posts)#dreams #dreaming #ren amamiya #akira kusuru #kinda

4 notes · View notes

the-era-of-shadow · 4 months ago

Text

Mission: FOX FRENZY

Written by Aikshlin Rose

Cover Art by Aikshlin Rose

Chapter 9: The Haze of Deception Has Lifted

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Swearing, Mentions of Death, In-Universe Xenophobia, Violence

Start | Prev | Next

Author's Note:

So after this chapter and chapter 9 of MoaR coming out Thursday, there's gonna be a hiatus in releases for a while. MoaR needs time to catch up in being completed and we're going through some stuff. Also, this chapter and MFF in general has been completed for a while, so it'll only really show on Thursday, but because of the stuff we're going through, Aik had to take a break from the front and won't be working on things for a bit. Other hivemates will continue things in his absence, but you may notice a bit of stylistic shift in both writing and art.

Tails did not know what the sound had been, nor its origin – but what they did know was that it was loud. Very loud. Beyond the point of just overwhelming, breaching into the territory of truly, horrifically painful. Even as it faded, the ringing in their ears that was left behind was just as agonizing.

It hurts.

The pain was the only thing that Tails could think about, and even then, it was barely even ‘thinking’ as one would normally define it, more of just an instinctual reaction, as if Tails’ mind had been devolved into that of a feral animal just like the one they had been trying to get research on just moments ago.

But slowly, surely, the ringing faded away as well, and in its place, Tails’ senses came back to them. When they did, they realized that they had gone from standing to kneeling on the hallway’s cold metal floor, their fuzzy vision revealing a small puddle of dribble that had fallen from their mouth. With the strength that was slowly coming back to them as well, they lifted their dominant arm slightly to wipe their mouth. Afterwards, they finally managed to get back up on their feet.

“Shhhhit… Theee foxxx… it’ssss gooone…” Tails slurred out, the realization that the feral fox that they had been holding before the sudden noise had rang out was no longer in their arms, nor were they in the hallway at all anymore.

Giving up on the mission to analyze the fox, Tails stumbled their way through the rest of the hallway leading into the central room, their stride becoming more and more steady as their mind’s functions returned to normal. Finally, as they began to truly feel back to normal, Tails stepped into the central room and looked over to where they had placed the supplies for the Air Charm replicants, but as they gazed upon the monitor desk, Tails very suddenly made a horrifying discovery.

The Chaos Emerald was gone too.

Tails immediately assumed the cause to be a break-in, most likely occurring while Tails had been incapacitated. But the glass container had not been broken. Rather, the proper door had been opened. But such a thing should have only been possible via a request to Nicole, which a non-Freedom Fighter would not have been able to do, as she would’ve refused. That left only a single possibility to Tails, the only way this could have happened.

Hacking.

“Nicole! Status report!” Tails demanded, perhaps a bit harsher than they had intended due to the stress of the situation. But regardless of Tails’ tone, she did not reply, which only further proved Tails’ fears correct.

In a frenzied rush to try to put a stop to whoever it was that had taken the Emerald, Tails raced out of the central room and made a mad dash towards the Sky Patrol’s exit. It was on this route that Tails saw the Chaos Emerald glimmer as it was held in the hands of a young – single tailed – fox mobian, wearing clothes that looked handmade, and that which were stained just the slightest bit with some sort of green substance. Now that Tails had their eyes on the thief in question, they slowed down quite a bit in hopes of catching up to them without alarming them to their presence. But they did still follow the young thief, and as they did, Tails started to notice that their fur’s hue was very similar to the fur of the feral mystic fox from earlier. Furthermore, and arguably more important, they quickly realized that they recognized this young mobian, by name, even.

Garrick Brevair, the son of Wilma Brevair – AKA The Queen of the Black Arms, Black Widow.

Gods fucking dammit, it was a trap all along!

But what the hell was Garrick doing out here all alone?? Tails knew that the Black Arms often resort to drastic measures to get what they want, but isn’t Garrick a bit young to be out on a mission by himself like this??

What if… What if Garrick isn’t alone?

Tails pushed all these questions in their head aside, they knew if they didn’t act now, they could run the very real risk of surrendering the Emerald to the Black Arms. So without any extra hesitation, Tails leaped forward towards Garrick and gave out a cry.

“Hey!! Give that back!!”

Much to Tails’ chagrin, their cry gave Garrick the time to dodge Tails’ attempt at grabbing the Emerald.

“Looks like this is gonna be a bit harder than planned, guys!” Garrick stated as he landed back on his feet.

“So you really aren’t alone after all!” Tails surmised from Garrick’s statement as they gear up to take another swing for the Emerald.

“Of course not! There’s strength in numbers, especially within the hivemind!” Garrick responded, his grasp around the Emerald tightening, clearly anticipating Tails’ next attempt to take it.

Despite Garrick being clearly prepared for it, Tails lunged towards the Emerald once again. “Why are you even doing this?? Aren’t you guys supposed to be, like, not on the offense during the colder months??” They question Garrick as they did.

“Oh hey! You’ve done your research! Seems you're just as studious as the hive remembers you being, fox!” Garrick remarked as he once again successfully swiped the Chaos Emerald out of Tails’ grasp.

“H-hey! You’re a fox too!” Was all that Tails could get out in response before Garrick very suddenly teleported away.

A sense of dread quickly pierced through Tails as they immediately assumed that he had left the Sky Patrol, but as Garrick’s voice rang out once more, Tails turned towards the central room and realized that they were now standing on the room’s roundtable.

“But you see, Prower, we’re in a bit of a troubling situation right now. We have many plans to work on to pass the winter by, yes, but that’s really hard to do when a certain stupid doctor and his robots keep storming our base in pursuit of Shadow!” As much as the way Garrick was speaking was uncannily reminiscent of both their older sibling’s and late father’s speech patterns, Tails couldn’t help but to have a bit of curiosity about the words themselves that were being spoken.

“Doctor Robotnik?” Tails inquired, still pursuing Garrick, but at a slower pace, hoping to get an answer out of him before they could run off again and turn this situation into a full blown chase.

“Who else?” Garrick answered bluntly. “Oh, by the way, we’re very aware of the fact that you’re the ones at fault for such! It’s one thing for Amy to not want to join us, but it’s something much more awful to then go tell that doctor that Shadow’s the sole reason why his husband’s cafe was destroyed, when you Freedom Fighters were the ones that started the battle in front of the clinic in the first place!!” He added, his voice having an unnervingly high amount of vitriol in it for a mere six year old.

Come to think of it, Garrick in general acted a bit more intelligent than would be typical for his age, though, admittedly, that’s going off of mobian standards. Is this actually typical of a young Black Arm?

“Hey, Prower! You seem to have something on your mind there!” Garrick pointed out, snapping Tails out of their thoughts. “I’ll let you come closer if you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about!~” He then offered, waving the Chaos Emerald around as if Tails were a dog, and the Emerald was a dog treat.

“You’re… very mature for your age, by mobian standards,” Tails told him, walking closer towards the central room, wanting to take full advantage of the offer Garrick gave. “But… is your behavior… really typical for a Black Arms your age?”

“Nope!” Garrick responded. Tails was unsure if the cheery tone of his reply was genuine or not, a part of them felt like it wasn’t. “I’m actually severely underdeveloped!” He then revealed, much to Tails’ shock. Still in that cheerful tone too.

“Huh??” Tails instinctually blurted out in response.

“We Black Arms aren’t supposed to be in this child-like state for this long, Prower. You should know this,” Garrick began to explain, his voice quieter now, but still strangely chipper, which paired with his still smiling face made for an aura that was becoming more and more uncanny by the second. “Our vessels come into being via larvae that come forth from the slime moss, which are child-like by nature, yes, but that stage is only meant to last for about a year, give or take,” They continued, neither tone nor facial expression changing as he hopped down from the table, seemingly approaching Tails in much the same way Tails was approaching him. “From there, we form into nice comfy cocoon pods and from within we mature into full grown Black Arms soldiers! But I never got to do that, Prower.”

“U-Uhm… W-why not?” Tails sheepishly asked, despite knowing it would only serve as a prompt to further Garrick’s monologuing.

“Well, you see, there was something that happened just a few days after I emerged from the mold….” Garrick replied, beginning to become close enough to Tails that they could start to see some malice from him behind their unyielding smile. “That something? Why, it was only the destruction of my home and the slaughter of most of my brethren, including my own father!” He disclosed, grabbing hold of Tails’ jacket to pull them towards him, and thus letting Tails see the flames of fury and hatred in his eyes that burned so brightly, despite all their other body and vocal cues giving off a false sense of nonchalance. “You Aerthlings are the reason why I’m like this! You’re the reason why I was forced to develop in the way of our ancestors!” He finally concluded, still holding Tails at eye level with him.

Just from under Garrick’s grasp of Tails, his other hand still held the Chaos Emerald, which caught Tails’ attention. Being so close to it, Tails decided that now would be the perfect time to try and get it away from Garrick. But as they reached for the Emerald, Garrick pushed Tails away from him and pulled the Emerald closer to him.

“Wow. Just… Wow,” Garrick muttered, the smile that had been on their face for several minutes at last disappearing as it was instead replaced with a look that was a 50/50 mix of looking shocked and looking offended. “Here I am, answering your question in complete earnest, pouring my guts out for you despite how much you don’t deserve such a sight… And you use that moment to try to take the fucking Emerald from me again??” He scolded Tails, his volume rising.

“H-Hey! Watch your-”

“You have no authority over how I express my pain, Prower.”

“Yes, I do. Because I, and the rest of the Mystic Fox Armada are going to burn whatever remains of you Black Arms to ashes!” Tails asserted, taking a step towards Garrick for the first time in quite a few minutes.

“Is that a threat?” Garrick inquired. “An invitation to a fight, even?”

“You’re damn right it is!” Tails affirmed. “Because I’m not gonna let you waltz out of here with that Chaos Emerald without a fight!” They then confidently declared.

“You don’t have to do this, Prower. It’s the Preparation Period season. We Black Arms don’t get into fights at a time like this unless it’s to defend ourselves from an attack,” Garrick warned them, but Tails was certain in their decree.

“Then allow me to throw the first punch!” Tails responded, taking their own words very literally as they punched Garrick in the cheek, sending him across the central room.

“You’re on,” Garrick said as he landed on his feet right in front of the monitor desk. “Give me your worst, Prower!”

“Gladly!” Tails replied, grabbing from one of their pockets a remote device to call the drones from outside to their location with just a press of a button. Just as intended, the drones came to Tails’ side in a matter of seconds. But something was… Off…

“That’s your worst, Prower?” Garrick taunted them. The comment confused Tails at first, but looking up and behind them, Tails noticed that the ‘army’ of drones that had formed was made of only ten members in total, a mere tenth of the amount of drones they very vividly remembered sending out to patrol the exterior of the Sky Patrol earlier that day. Out of a mix of confusion, frustration, and eventually desperation, Tails pressed the button several more times in rapid succession. But much to their dismay, no more drones ever appeared.

“It’s a terrible loss, isn’t it? If only you did your due diligence and upped the security around here after the last time I hacked into this stupid place…” An unfamiliar and rather strikingly monotone voice spoke mockingly from behind Tails.

Already in a panicked state of mind, Tails reflexively turned around to see who it was that had made the snide remark. What they saw was a young ‘mobian’ fox boy much like Garrick, though this one’s fur was gray and blue rather than Garrick’s purple and red fur, and while Tails couldn’t tell for certain, they swore that the ‘mobian’ that stood before them looked to also have a bit of cat in him, too. The boy’s appearance was not one that struck Tails as familiar, nor did his voice. Rather, it was the words themselves that he spoke that caused a wave of memories to wash over them.

They had not been directly involved in the security breach that had occurred on October 9th, but they had detected it shortly after the surrounding situation had died down and had gone to ask Sally about it. That’s when Sally told them about the Clysdale Clinic AMA and how she, Nicole and Amy had been roped into it. When Sally had told Tails about how Eclipse had blamed one of their wisp hybrids named Blurk for the hacking, she had said it with an air of suspicion towards the claim, thinking that it was just Eclipse attempting to keep up their appearance of innocence under the false identity of ‘Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale’. But Tails was never as skeptical about the claim. They had learned some things about the wisps in the process of building a translator for the wisp language into the Twin-Tail Electronic Communicators back when they had just started creating them, so Tails knew that wisps were at around the same intelligence levels as a mobian or a human. Tails also knew from their armada training and education that despite popular belief, all subspecies of Black Arms share the same amount of mental capacity and intelligence. After all, they were all equal and the same in the ‘eyes’ of the hivemind. So with Eclipse’s ‘Dark Arms’ as they called them being both wisp and Black Arms, Tails personally had no reason to doubt that Blurk really could have hacked into the Sky Patrol that day all on his own.

The mobian form though was throwing Tails for a bit of a loop-

Suddenly, Tails was kicked down to the ground by Garrick, snapping them out of their train of thought.

“Are you seriously hesitating so soon, Prower? You wanted this fight, remember?” Garrick scolded them in a cocky tone. Unfortunately, he had a point. But instead of responding verbally, Tails commanded the few drones of theirs that remained to start shooting at Garrick. “That’s more like it!” Garrick remarked as he began to evade the drones’ attacks, sounding almost excited to be doing so.

While Garrick was distracted, Tails went over to attack who they were pretty certain was Blurk on their own, an objective that didn’t quite go as planned, as every attack of theirs was blocked by a blocky blue shield that he had summoned in front of him. The resemblance of the shield to that of the blocks a regular blue wisp would allow a user to create cemented Tails’ theory, but that confirmation only served to fuel their curiosity further. Wisps are not known to be able to shapeshift, and while the Black Arms can shapeshift, the trait is one that must be trained in order to use it. So would a wisp/Black Arms hybrid even have the capacity to shapeshift?? It was a question that ate away at Tails’ mind as they continued to try and fail to place a hit on Blurk. How was he able to appear mobian?? Finally, Tails couldn’t take it anymore, and decided to feed into their yearn for knowledge.

“So you hacked into the Sky Patrol, huh?” Tails asked Blurk, making sure in the back of their head that the conversation they were starting would not distract them from the fight as they continued to throw punches and kicks as they spoke. “Twice, even?”

“Indeed I did. It was shockingly easy the first time,” Blurk responded bluntly, maintaining his shield. “And that was from afar, too. So I think you can imagine how much easier it would be to do it up close this time around.”

“That’s rather impressive for someone like you!” Tails remarked as they kicked at the shield.

“You speak as if there is something about me that would cause you to believe I would not be capable of such things. Is it because I am part wisp?” Blurk questioned them.

“Oh no, I believe that you’d be able to do such a thing! But something I’m a little more… Surprised by is your current form!” Tails marveled, flying up into the air a bit, both in the hopes of being able to leverage the height into a stronger kick, and also to create some distance between themself and Blurk to prevent any longer questions from getting interrupted by combat.

“Is that so? I could have sworn someone like you would be plenty familiar with the concept of mech suits,” Blurk replied, the monotone that Tails had grown used to shifting slightly to a more sarcastic tone of voice.

“Mech suits? What does that have to do with anything?” Tails replied, too bewildered by the comment to initiate an attack.

“Tsk tsk… Stupid Aerthlings need everything spelled out for them, don’t they?” Blurk snarked. “This body is a husk built for me to inhabit in much the same way I would inhabit someone utilizing my powers. But instead of just granting this body my powers, I grant this body everything I am, which essentially allows me to pilot it like a mech suit,” He then explained.

“Damn! If Sal and the others didn’t believe that you could hack, they’re certainly not gonna believe this!” Tails exclaimed as they finally stopped spinning their tails, letting gravity pull them down towards Blurk’s shield for an extra hard kick. But before their foot made contact with the shield, they were blown away by a familiarly ultra-loud blast.

The source of the blast had been yet another young fox ‘mobian’ that looked very similar to Blurk. The differences from him were that this fox was a girl with gray and pink fur, and she seemed to be part dog rather than part cat like Blurk’s mobian form.

“That would be terribly rude of them! I worked really hard on these suits, ya know!” Her voice cried out, being very sweet and soft, which was in drastic contrast from the near ear-bleeding soundwave that she had produced mere moments ago.

“It wouldn’t be out of character for them, though! All of these damn Aerthlings see wisps like us as tools of power and nothing else!” Another, more rough, voice spoke as another fox, this one with gray and teal fur, appeared. Though this one was honestly a little hard to call a fox, to be completely honest. They more resembled an opossum than anything else, there was maybe even a bit of hamster in there too along with the fox and opossum. But what Tails could see very clearly was that one of their arms was transformed into a laser cannon of sorts, and it was pointed right at Tails’ head. Tails quickly got back up onto their feet and ran out of the laser’s blast radius mere seconds before it went off.

It was at this moment that Tails realized that they had admittedly made a rather dumb decision in provoking Garrick and his crewmates into a fight, and that they had lost sight of what they were originally supposed to be doing in the first place – protecting the Chaos Emerald!

So Tails flew up away from the fight to look around and see where their drones had chased Garrick to. Much to their shock, they saw Garrick in the thin wedge between where the main wall of the Sky Patrol stopped and the Sky Patrol’s dome ceiling began. But even though it bewildered them as to how Garrick even ended up there, Tails prepared to charge towards them and grab the Emerald from him. That is, until they were once again knocked down by what they hoped to be the final of the faux foxes. This one resembled Eclipse’s own ‘Doctor Clysdale’ disguise a bit with their gray and red fur, but differed from Clysdale and the other ‘foxes’ in that she appeared to be part bat, which lent them a pair of wings of which they could use to catch up to Tails in the skies with.

“And just where do you think you’re going? You have not even atoned for your sins against us!” She scolded them, also sounding like Eclipse as well, with a bit of a stereotypical ‘evil queen’ type of voice mixed in for good measure.

“I’m done with this!” Tails blurted in rage, as they got back up on their feet. “I have a job to do, and that’s to protect that Emerald!” They declared, pointing at the Chaos Emerald that was still in Garrick’s hands.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Prower! If you want this Emerald, you’re gonna have to fight for it!” Garrick told them, leaping down to the floor below and running away from Tails with the Emerald. Another chase, so it would seem. Without hesitation, Tails went after him, and the others went after them too.

“This is ridiculous! You’re the one who stole the Emerald from us in the first place!” Tails complained after a bit of running around the Sky Patrol.

“Do you even have a purpose for having the Chaos Emerald, or are you just another hoarder?” The bat-fox, who Tails suspected was the Dark Arm known as ‘Cregal’, questioned as they swooped down to attack Tails from the sky.

“It’s none of your fucking business what we’re doing with the Emerald!” Tails snapped back in response, just barely dodging Cregal’s attack.

“Shame on you, using such foul language in front of such young, innocent ears!” The soft spoken fox-dog, ‘Rhygenta’ – Tails figured, scolded them in a way that they couldn’t fully parse out if it was sarcastic or not.

“Oh come on! Garrick said it too just a bit ago!” Tails argued, too focused on the absurdity of her complaint to notice that Rhygenta was pointing her cannon right at Tails until just seconds before the soundwave blast went off. Miraculously, Tails managed to dodge it despite that fact.

“We’ve earned it with all the shit you Aerthlings have put us through!” The fox-opossum-hamster thing, Cyzer for sure, retorted with entitlement.

“So I see that Eclipse is just as awful of an influence on you all as you accuse me of being!” Tails surmised. “Honestly, you all talk so much of us Aerthlings ‘taking advantage of wisps’ for utilizing their Hyper-Go-On energy, but don’t they do the exact same thing?? Hell, aren’t they even more guilty than we supposedly are, as they desire to give all of the Black Arms access to your Hyper-Go-On powers?! On top of the experimentation to make you guys part Black Arms, of course!” They then debated in a very accusatory way, which none of the Dark Arms seemed to like very much.

The most angered of the four of them was Cyzer, who immediately began to hurl attack after attack at Tails as they whined about Tails’ words.

“How dare you??” They hollered. “How dare you say such baseless things??” They repeated. “I’ll have you know that the four of us were not the only Dark Arms developed!! There were dozens of us! Hundreds, even!! But when we were forced to escape to this damn planet our ship suffered an awful crash that killed every one of our kin except for us and Mama! Mama could have written off the whole project as a failure and discarded us, but they didn’t!!”

“They kept us fed and safe even though they were not sure if we could fight…!” Rhygenta interjected.

“Even at their own expense,” Blurk added.

“We are more than our abilities to them! We are their family! We are as much Black Arms as they are! As any of the rest of our brethren are! And to suggest that they would ever feel otherwise is a disgusting display of arrogance and ignorance!” Cregal concluded.

In the four’s anger, they surrounded Tails on all corners, preparing to all attack them at once. Even when Tails would try to evade them and go after Garrick, the four would push them back into their line of attack.

Soon enough, Garrick too stopped running, and turned to face Tails.

“They serve us not because they have no other choice, or just because one of us saved them from some threat years ago. They serve us because we accept them as our own and give them a loving home that they find the will within themselves to defend. But I suppose the idea of wisps acting of their own accord is a foreign concept to you, isn’t it, Prower?” He said to them with a smirk. And just like that, Garrick took off once again, leaving Tails to surely be torn to shreds by the furious Dark Arms.

Or at least, that most likely would have been what would’ve happened to them, if it hadn’t been for…

The knock at the door.

#undescribed #teos #the era of shadow #black arms #sonic oc #sonic au #writing tag #sonic fanfiction #mod aik

1 note · View note

my-timing-is-digital · 2 years ago

Text

Starter for @starsplaced

You will be assimilated... We will add your biological distinctiveness to our Collection... Resistance is futile... The eerily phlegmatic string of words enunciated in unison by their cyborg adversaries still reverberated in the abysmal clefts of his mind. An unanticipated invasion, an ambush, transport inhibitors, the jamming of communication frequencies; successfully amputating the away team from the bridge. Astute, ruthless, inexorable, pragmatic... Inexcusable, inhumane, deplorable... With mathematical precision, the android’s phosphorescent optical components, chartreuse by design, accumulated information pertaining to their present environment; the away team stood huddled together, a congregation of hapless individuals ripe for assimilation.

Methodically, the android proceeded his analysis. A dozen Borg stood sentinel at the circumference of the imperfect blotch configured by unique organisms, Starfleet officers. A green hue illuminated the craniums of the 18 crew members assigned to sampling soil for scientific purposes, all of them had been appropriated from Starfleet, from themselves, abducted. The stench of grease infiltrated his olfactory sensors; the temperature was 39.1°C, with a humidity of 92%, which precipitated beads of perspiration on the countenances of the others, infinitesimal pearls of transparency inevitably trickling down their foreheads and temples in squiggly streaks. Intriguing...

Silence prevailed, perpetuating while everyone pricked up their ears, hoping their collective stillness would empower them to register the signature sounds of photon torpedoes annihilating, disintegrating, breaching the hull of the Cube, part of it. But the sole noise they could perceive was that of engines and technology, machinery, the design of which lay far beyond their comprehension, droning, vibrating the ground beneath their feet. The Commander sought the Klingon, and found him five heads away from him. Worf’s gaze was stark, inscrutable, engrossed, trained on something situated outside the android’s peripheral vision — unless he would rotate his head. A muscle in his jaw was twitching incessantly, an indication that he was tense, vexed, ruminating, governing his emotions, conserving his equilibrium. Inquisitive what elicited such a stalwart sentiment, Data opted to trace Worf’s line of sight and discover the genesis of his agitation, his disconcertment.

Careful not to promote alarm in the drones, with unexpected and provocative movements, the android craned his neck, elevating himself by shifting his weight to the front portion of his feet, the heels of his boots hovering several centimetres above the ground, as he peeked over the scalps of two, relatively tall Lieutenant junior grades. Within seconds, he discovered the source of Worf’s perturbation: an assimilated Klingon, swaddled in the gear, the abhorrent apparel that marked the warped quintessence of being deprived of individuality, of a sense of self; they were one and enhanced to serve together — the culmination of being Borg.

This might complicate matters, an annotation recorded in the margins of his positronic brain. Whatever Worf’s sentiments were prior to their becoming stationary in this claustrophobic intersection, they might have undergone astronomical alterations since...

The impromptu immobilisation of the drones was yet another mystery to him — why? He had assumed the Borg would introduce the away team to their notorious assimilation procedure the second they materialised on the titanium grating. Evidently, other affairs had earnt the Collective’s priority.

Quietly, the android retrieved himself to his former position, running multitudinous scenarios, computations in his mind — perhaps one contained an adequate solution for the conundrum they had involuntarily been exposed to. This was his away team. As Lieutenant Commander, he outranked every single one of them. They were counting on him, and he was determined to bring them home.

A chime. Soft, timid, drowned out by the interminable hum of Borg technology, but yet, audible, discernible, foreign in the monotonous, prosaic sounds encompassing them. His combadge. The bridge had succeeded in puncturing an aperture in the impenetrable layers of shielding and security, to transmit a message. Data anticipated a voice — the Captain’s voice —, but received a sequence of beeps, organised in a seemingly random pattern, instead.

Short, short, short — long — short, long — long, short — long, short, short — long, short, short, short — long, short, long, long. Pause. Short, short, long, short — long, long, long — short, long, short. Pause. Long — short, long, short — short, long — long, short — short, short, short — short, long, long, short — long, long, long — short, long, short — long. Pause. Repeat. Silence.

Morse code. Standby for transport. The message had not alerted any of the drones — at least not to the extend to which they regarded the nonsensical oscillation of noises as a threat —, but they would the moment the first officers’ molecules would disperse right before their eyes — or the synthetic ocular components substituting for one or both of their eyes. For all they knew, the noises were emanating from within his chest, to indicate a thermal overload was in progress, or that his power had been depleted and he required to regenerate himself by ingesting a certain quantity of energy.

Within 5 minutes and 39 seconds, the first 4 officers vanished in an inverted cascade of scintillating light. And, as extrapolated, this did garner the drones’ attention. Their weaponised limbs, mechanical thus unyielding and deleterious to humanoid tissue when contact ensued, raised in one swift motion, operating as one.

They continued cantillating their song. Resistance is futile, resistance is futile... Data assumed a defensive stance, prepared to protect the others by neutralising as many drones as he was physically able to take on. The remaining officers emulated the example he had set for them, all but Worf, who still appeared oddly transfixed by the Klingon drone. A problem, indeed.

When the majority had been peeled off of the Borg Cube, and only Worf and Data embodied the final vestiges of the abduction, the android took the liberty to subject his friend to a meticulous, and somewhat extensive examination. They were shaking off the residual of Borg in their immediate proximity, but more were incoming...

‘Commander, I request we provide asylum to the Klingon drone,’ Worf said apropos of nothing.

Data canted his head to the side in a quizzical fashion, unable to fathom why. Why was he incarcerated in this particular sentiment?

‘I sincerely question if that would be a judicious determination — the Captain most certainly would not approve of such a course of action. Apart from that, it is a decision unbefitting the head of security,’ the android commented stoically, his conjecture warranted him a lethal scowl from the Lieutenant.

‘Commander, this is Captain Picard, prepare for transport.’

‘Aye, sir,’ he said affirmatively, tossing an apologetic glance at Worf. ‘We are ready for transport...’

#starsplaced // wox'oll #verse // to thine own self be true; and it must follow as the night the day thou canst not then be false to any man #ooc: hope this works! :3 pls let me know if it doesn't; I don't mind adjusting it to accommodate your preferences!#this is way longer than it should be asdfghjkl don't worry about matching the length; regard this as an introduction to our thread

1 note · View note

mythicamagic · 3 years ago

Text

The Queen's Diary: A Chevalier oneshot

Chevalier x MC (Emma) Ikemen Prince oneshot

Rated M: 4,000 words

Summary: Emma finds the late Queen's diary, discovering the truth of Chevalier's isolated childhood.

Warnings: Smut, and mentionings of Clavis' mother's sexual assault

----

She hadn't anticipated anything out of the ordinary occurring that day. After silently slipping out of the King's Chambers just as she always did in the morning, Emma was more than happy to help the maids clean. It was unexpected to be given the task of cleaning the former Queen’s quarters, but not unthinkable. Emma simply hadn't entered Chevalier's mother's space before.

It was a lonely, faintly feminine-looking place. Emma was slightly dismayed not to see one single hint of a smaller Chevalier's memorabilia, let alone any personal effects.

Nonetheless, tidy shelves were soon dusted just like every other room, linens replaced despite no one using them, windows wiped spotless.

Yet that sense of easy familiarity changed with one single bump of her hand against the bookshelf.

'Thud.'

Emma paused, frowning slightly. None of the neatly shelved books had fallen from what she could see.

So was something hidden at the back of the shelves?

“I’m going to continue with the next room, miss,” Jane gestured to the door, having not noticed.

“Oh- no problem. I’ll join you soon, I’m just going to make some final checks,” shooting a smile at the maid, Emma waited until she was left alone.

Squatting down, she reached to the back of the shelves and began the process of fishing out the thing. After piling some stacked books and discovering a gap at the back, Emma pulled out a single dog-eared book.

A diary.

Cracking it open without another thought, she glanced over the first page.

‘I have long since been told that keeping a journal or diary of some sort will aid one’s thoughts. In truth, I do not write here seeking counsel. Rather, for the first time in my life, I find myself unable to confide some particular thoughts about being a mother to my best, and most wondrous friend, Leticia. I fear the truth of my feelings would only alarm her. Alarm everyone. Therefore I am to contain my doubts and uncertainties in these pages. I endeavour not to let them overspill where one might see them.’

Thoughts about being a mother?

This was…the Queen’s diary- but more than that, it was her feelings toward Chevalier? She’d died when he was a child, so he must have been young when she wrote this, Emma thought.

She hesitated, gazing at the tell-tale curve of her fingers that held the first page aloft- poised to turn it. If she kept going now, Emma knew a breach of privacy would be broken that she could never take back. The most appropriate thing to do would be to give the diary to Chevalier to decide what to do with it. It was his mother’s, after all.

Blunt teeth tugged and scraped at her abused lower lip- a casualty of his Royal Highnesses forceful kisses. Images of her beloved shrunk down into a small little boy with pale blonde hair and pinchable cheeks flashed in her mind’s eye. The page was turned before she realised it, and more of that elegant script met Emma’s greedy, curious gaze.

‘It may seem ridiculous to say but from the day he was born, I knew my child was not normal. He did not cry like other children. In fact, my midwife feared he was stillborn at first. He was so quiet, and barely made any noise. He did not smile often but rather stared at objects within the room or at my face with a frightening intensity not befitting a baby. I imagine most mothers would be pleased to have such a silent babe. Instead, I felt as if Chevalier told me something from the moment he was born: ‘I have no need of you.’

Emma quirked a brow, smiling a little despite herself. That sounded like a very Chevalier thing to do, and the image of him looking so proud even while being swaddled was adorable to her. However, the Queen's tone concerned her- pulled at her heartstrings uncomfortably with troubling thoughts she did not want to confront. She read on.

‘My husband, sadly, took no better to my son than I did. It was difficult to love a child that rarely smiled or seemed to find joy in our company. Nonetheless, his rejection stung. I had hoped a child- a son no less!- would grant him some measure of happiness. Unfortunately, the King’s smiles are rarer than even Chevaliers. Perhaps rejection is all that the three of us will ever really understand.’

Emma’s heart flickered as she picked up on the following words: ‘The King- Leticia- hurt- so much blood- my poor friend was crying so much-’ and even all the curiosity in the world couldn't bring her to read that particular passage. Nausea pooled in her stomach when it was noted in the pages that nine months later, Luticia gave birth to a boy named Clavis.

With severely less enthusiasm than before, she skipped along to toddling Chevalier.

‘I recall Chevalier pointing at me once while we were sitting in the nursery. “Book,” he’d said- and I realised belatedly that he wasn’t looking at me, but at the bookshelf behind me. That was his very first word. Not ‘Mother’ or ‘Father’ but ‘Book.’

‘This word paved the way for Chevalier's rare redeeming quality as a son: his intellect. Never before have I witnessed a child who learned as quickly as he did. After picking up reading and writing at a young age- his tutors declaring him a child prodigy- I recall noticing him playing with some toys. ‘Finally!’ I thought. ‘He is acting normal at last, rather than sitting alone in the corner of the room with a book.’

'When I approached, however, I noticed the toys in his hand were actually battle markers he’d snatched from the King’s war room. The scene laid out before him on the playmat was that of a hypothetical battlefield.’

'After this, while I felt dismayed once more, an inkling of hope entered my heart. If my son could be a useful tactician, it would benefit the King, and perhaps allow him to be of use to the kingdom. I implored my husband to allow Chevalier to begin sitting in on his war meetings so that he might recognise his aptitude for it. It took some time, but eventually, he conceded despite the strangeness of allowing a five-year-old into the chamber.’

Emma read on, standing from the floor when her legs began to cramp and sitting at a nearby writing desk. She wasn’t surprised in the least about Chevalier's aptitude for war. Apparently, the move was a success, as the prince flourished at these meetings, suggesting battle tactics that impressed even the most seasoned of generals.

As she skim-read through a few of these entries, a single passage finally made her stop.

‘Leticia tells me I will warm to him eventually. Once, I would have hoped for that.’

“What do you mean?” Emma questioned aloud softly, hunching over the desk a little more.

‘After seeing the pure love and affection between Leticia and her sweet little Clavis, I know in my heart I will never come to love Chevalier. He will never love me, either, much like his father. I see Clavis following my son around sometimes and the difference between them is like night and day. Clavis is a human boy, while the person that came from me feels more and more like a changeling child every day. A mistake. A cold, unfeeling reminder of the lack of love in this palace. We do not speak even at meal times, and when he looks at me, Chevalier acts like I am a stranger. I have slowly become irritated by it, and snap occasionally. He reminds me too much of the King’s apathetic silence in our bed chamber.'

“Why can’t you just smile?” I spoke out this evening, glaring down our dining table at him. Chevalier, sat at the opposite end, merely looked at me in that lofty way of his. “I have nothing to smile about right now, so why would I?”

The knot in Emma’s stomach twisted tighter and tighter. Chevalier could smile. It was gentle and just a little awkward and uncertain sometimes, but it was unmistakably human. Emma knew this because she’d fallen in love with his smiles. The fact that his own mother hadn’t seen them made her throat close up, heart laying heavily in her chest. She’d glimpsed it a few times, but according to the diary, the Queen also never woke him in the mornings. They’d meet in the afternoon for a scheduled dinner.

That meant she’d never seen Chevalier struggle to wake up in bed- his hair adorably ruffled with sleep, eyelids heavy as he burrowed stubbornly under the covers. The Queen had never witnessed his palpable, silent delight as he’d unwrapped a handmade gift made just for him. He slept with the flimsy blanket Emma had knitted for him every night despite being surrounded by finery.

All these little things were precious and dear to Emma. She felt torn in numerous ways about how to put into words what exactly she was feeling as her finger trembled. Sadness, of course, disappointment? Frustration? Yes…some of that was mixed in.

She could understand the complexities of being a newfound mother with a child that differed from expectations, but it seemed at a certain point…the Queen had stopped trying.

No, if she were really being honest, the truth of it was right there in the pages before her. Chevalier had been rejected from the moment he was born.

‘One night, a man entered through the window of my private drawing room. I was frightened and completely alone in facing him. I only discovered later on that he’d intended to assassinate my husband, mistakenly believing we shared our quarters- what a fool!’

‘He came at me with a dagger- and I tried my best to escape, tossing my dresser and various things over behind me in my haste to flee. I thought for certain he was close enough to catch me, but upon reaching my room I found myself completely alone. Naturally, I made my way cautiously back to the hallway- only to see a sword thrust through the man’s back. He bent as if his bones were broken, a terrible, gasping sound escaping him that I will hear forever. Behind him, I recall seeing a small figure. My attacker’s killer tugged- and planted one foot on the assassin's back- to rip his sword free. It was then I saw it.’

‘Chevalier was smiling.’

‘I cannot…write down the depths of my terror in witnessing it. My unease changed that night into true horror, and I have feared my son ever since. No, to even call him of my blood feels deranged. That boy could not have come from me. He is a beast. A thing swapped at birth with my true son- for no human could smile like that after killing a man. Yes, it is clear now. How could I have hoped to appeal to my husband with such a child? It is not my fault. It has never been my fault. It is that boy’s fault.’

“You’ll never be loved by anyone,” I told him this, just this morning. He had the gall to ask ‘why?’

“Because you’re a beast without a human heart,” I told him, speaking the truth. “You’re different from the other children. You don’t know what love is, and that’s terrifying.”

The boy seemed confused by this. “All I did was kill an assassin,” he said, as if a seven-year-old doing so unflinchingly was perfectly normal.

I felt myself snap once more. “It is unnatural to be so calm about it!” I’d yelled, secretly wishing he might show remorse about it if I scolded him. He did not. At that moment, the last of my strength as a mother left me. It felt as if I were renouncing him as my son. “Neither the king nor I can find it in ourselves to love you any longer.”

'If we ever had.'

“As long as you don’t know what love is, you’ll remain a beast forever.”

Brown eyes widened, staring at those words as if they were a curse in a fairy tale. But this was no story she could ever comfort herself with. This was real. It had happened.

‘I confided in Leticia about what I’d witnessed that night, and it did not take long before everyone in the palace knew about Chevalier's true nature. I would feel guilt for how the servants and nobles alike ostracised him for it- but I know he is a danger to them. I keep to my rooms now, with Leticia my only visitor. I have not seen His Highness or that boy in months. I feel myself falling prey to fear and torment every day. Whatever solace I thought I’d find in the arms of the King for rejecting that boy was mistaken.

‘I know not for how much longer I can bear this place when it is home to mere heartless, dreadful beasts. How I wish I had not been forced to come here. How I wish I had not borne that man a cursed son.’

Emma turned the page, only to find it blank. Flipping through the rest, a stream of yellowed-white faceless pages fluttered slowly closed, with all the pain and misery leading up to the Queen’s death left unspoken and unwritten.

She sat back in her chair. Staring ahead sightlessly for a few moments, Emma found herself uncharacteristically speechless. Robbed of all thought- she gazed at the pages until they blurred. Blinking, she quickly wiped a few hot tears away, frowning at the sting.

Taking a few deep breaths, she collected herself slowly. How silly. It wasn’t like crying would fix anything she’d read.

Her lips bent up into a painful smile, imagining Chevalier gently ridiculing her for it. ‘Stupid rabbit,’ he’d call her, and flick her forehead-

Her misty eyes widened slightly, falling to the diary again.

Chevalier…

He shouldn’t ever read this. Couldn’t-

Emma knew it likely wouldn’t hurt him, as it was things he already doubtlessly knew or suspected, but she didn't think she could stomach seeing the revelation on his face.

The door swung open suddenly- and Emma shot up, snatching the book and shoving it behind her to hide it.

“Oh, you’re still here, miss?” Anna blinked, venturing further into the room. “The cleaning in here is surely done. Jane didn’t leave you to it alone, did she?”

Emma shook her head and forced a brittle smile. It wouldn’t have convinced Chevalier if he’d seen it. He was unexpectedly sweet like that.

Swallowing thickly, she inched toward the door. “No, not at all. I guess I just got lost in thought. So much so, I didn’t realise what the time was! Forgive me, I’m late for something, Anna-”

Hoping she didn’t notice the tremble in her voice, Emma dashed by the maid and hurried down the corridor. She fled past Jin- who called out to her- and weaved around countless servants in a most unladylike fashion.

She didn’t care though. The heavy, sick feeling in her chest didn’t lessen until orange flames were swallowing the contents of those pages.

Emma exhaled slowly, using a fire poker to adjust the diary atop the logs. She watched with blank relief as it was eaten away into nothingness, becoming grey flecks of meaningless discarded ashes.

The words, of course, would likely never leave her.

Standing within the library, Emma straightened. She fixed her long hair, blinking firmly- rapidly, to expel the last of the tears. She then slapped her cheeks lightly and checked the time.

The grandfather clock’s second hand slid closer to ‘noon.’

“He’s probably still in bed,” she rasped, smiling slightly.

It was likely a bad idea to see him when she was in such a state, as Chevalier could always sniff out weakness, but her steps didn't falter.

A burning desire encompassed her body, and would not be doused with any form of logic. She needed to see his face. She needed to-

Emma wasn’t certain what else she needed. She only found the answer to that unknown craving the second she’d slipped into the king’s chambers and crawled onto the plush white bed, immediately locating the face of her sleeping beloved.

She needed to love him. To show love- and know he felt it- know that he was loved so very deeply by someone.

Her lips found his cheek, pressing a long, reverent kiss to cool skin. Those thick, pale lashes of his refused to stir. So weak a kiss would not tempt the lazing tiger into waking.

Emma tucked herself up behind him, kissing along his ear next. Her breath fanned over the shell deliberately, peppering butterfly kisses down to his nape. That got a reaction. She felt him stiffen, shivering just a little.

Someone’s a big faker.

She smiled, nuzzling into his soft blonde hair and pressing full breasts into his back, trailing her hand over his side and running it up to where his nightshirt gaped open. He smelled like roses, as always.

Did the Queen know he smelled like this?

She winced, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing. The beast stirred, raising an arm sleepily and rolling onto his back- a silent invitation. Emma took it, quickly cuddling into his chest and lavishing attention over his collarbone.

“Mnph?” the king made a noise. Blue eyes cracked open, his hand weaving into her hair as he languidly stretched beneath her. “...You’re more determined than usual…to wake me today…” he yawned, grabbing the cover and attempting to pull it over their heads. Emma forced it back down, stroking his abdomen and running lithe fingers lower- feeling his body twitch in response, the embers of desire coaxing awake.

“It’s almost noon,” she cooed, ducking her head to plant a trail of kisses down his chest. Fingers blocked her journey- sliding past her lips to hook beneath her chin, tilting Emma’s head to look up.

“...Did something happen?” Chevalier grumbled, blue eyes squinting in the afternoon light, obviously making an effort to stay open. He sobered the longer she struggled to answer, gaze sharpening. Fierce attention roved over her face intently.

Emma’s lips pressed together and she looked away, heart shuddering. How could his own mother have been uncomfortable with that stare?

Chevalier sighed, poking her forehead and eliciting a yelp.

“Imbecile. Use your words.”

She grumbled, rubbing the spot. “Nothing…happened, exactly,” she murmured, gaze downcast. “I just- I heard someone talking badly of you, and it upset me.”

She could tell the answer displeased him. “You’re aware that no one’s opinion matters to me. People talk. Their wagging tongues, fear and dislike are nothing new. Why did it upset you today?”

“It felt different. It hurt,” she admitted. “They talked about your past…how your mother viewed you,” Emma sat back so that she straddled his hips. “I’m sorry-”

“The memories of her aren't a source of pain for me, my foolish Rabbit,” his fingers pressed against her mouth, brushing her lips fondly. “I didn't feel anything upon her death and I feel nothing now. Her fear of me isn’t something you should concern yourself with,” he sighed, head hitting his pillow with a ‘thump.’ “But I know saying such things to you is about as effective as trying to convince Clavis to stop trying to unsuccessfully kill me. Some things are impossible to change.”

Emma winced, running her hands absentmindedly over his chest, just to feel the rise and fall- the softness of his skin, body heat…and that strong heart beating beneath her palm. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that,” she gave a weak giggle. “But you’re right. I’m always going to worry about things you deem ‘unnecessary’ it's just how I am.”

Chevalier peaked at her under the messy fall of his bangs. He huffed with amusement, lips curling up into that awkward, gentle smile she so adored. Emma minded the strands aside, stopping to cup his cheek. She gazed firmly into those pretty blue eyes, seized by a great need.

“I love you,” she said. She’d spoken those words many times before, and would do so many times after. Every day, until it could hopefully drown out those endlessly lonely and isolating years spent alone in the library, with only his books for company.

“You look as though you have something to prove with those words today,” his thumb smoothed over her lips once more to push his thumb slightly into her parted mouth, stroking her tongue. His gaze darkened like an animal spotting its prey. “Show me.”

“Gladly-” she breathed, and their mouths were colliding in an instant. Emma’s fingers curled in the creases of his dishevelled collar, tugging and clawing at his shoulders until he joined her in sitting up- allowing her to discard the shirt. Chevalier soon gathered her closer, growling lowly when she ground against his lap. She wasn’t usually like this. Not unless she’d had something to drink- but a hunger bared its teeth inside her today. Her fiance seemed only too happy to oblige, allowing her to rut desperately against him- latching her mouth onto his neck and biting down.

“Mn-” a hiss of hot air fanned out beside her head, a hardness pressing up between her thighs indicating his enjoyment.

Emma discarded all sense of proprietary and lost herself in the molten hot temptations of pleasure, dipping her hand beneath the waistband of his trousers to take him in her hand.

"Emma," Chevalier gave a low croon, grasping brunnette hair and tugging to rip her mouth free of his throat- shoving his tongue inside her parted lips. Hands stroked, caressed and ripped at clothing. Their bodies rutted together like beasts. Soon she felt her back arching, an instrument in his artful hands as wet heat closed around her bared nipple, sucking with a scrape of delicious teeth.

She whined and shuddered in his hold, sloppily continuing to pump her hand at his base.

In that bedroom, with the golden light of midday pouring through a crack in the curtains, Emma gazed at him, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted. He looked beautiful. From how attentive and passionately he pleasured her, she knew she could never see him as the cold, removed man he’d been when they’d met.

Desire stabbed like a wrought iron brand inside her lower abdomen, and Emma pushed up onto her knees, aligning herself with his hips. With a single heated look exchanged, she took him into her, crying out as his cock filled her to the brim.

“Mn!- hah- you’re so wet…don’t tell me you got aroused just from touching me?” Chevalier’s voice purred into her neck, nipping and kissing.

“Is it any surprise? It makes me feel good to see you happy,” she gave a weak laugh, smiling with rosy cheeks.

Blue eyes flicked up, warming. He gazed at her with such tenderness it threatened to undo her. Emma shook herself and wrapped both arms around his shoulders, their lips meeting just as she began to ride him.

Soon their combined low grunts and pleased sighs filled the room, accompanied by the wet, heinous noises of their bodies meeting.

“Is- this, hah- alright?” she managed, nails digging into his blisteringly warm skin.

Chevalier gave a strained chuckle, holding her tighter around the waist and bumping his lips against her cheek. “Idiotic Rabbit. I’ve told you- before…” he panted, gaze half-lidded. “You have permission to do anything you want to me.”

Her walls unexpectedly squeezed tighter around him, wringing out a hiss from his clenched teeth. Emma blushed and bounced more determinedly on his lap, whimpering softly as his cock hit new depths from the change in angle.

That was how they fell apart- shattering in each other's arms. Emma keened and voiced her pleasure until her throat strained, deaf to Chevalier's own low snarl as his hips bucked and snapped- filling her with his seed.

Heavy panting was all she could hear as the high of climax eventually dimmed. She became aware of their sweat-slicked bodies pressed close- heartbeats thundering- how she cradled his head against her breast. His dishevelled bangs of hair felt damp to the touch.

Chevalier caught his breath, slowly sinking down and taking her with him to fall onto their sides on the bed.

“If that’s your response when I’m bad-mouthed by other people, I can only hope their next whispers are all the more vicious.”

Emma huffed, closing her eyes. A dim flash of sadness welled up inside her unbidden again, and she buried her face in his chest.

Her fiancé stirred, pulling away slightly to tilt her chin up. Emma blinked, feeling his thumb rub her jaw in slow, awkward brushes.

“I don’t know what was said, and frankly I don’t care. The past is the past,” Chevalier muttered, lips curving. The action transformed his face into a heartbreakingly tender and earnest look. “It can’t be changed. What I care about…is here and now, right in front of me.”

Her breath caught. Somehow, that was all she’d needed to hear. The rotten feelings of sadness and frustration on his behalf melted away under his unpractised, genuine soft touch. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back, smiling and kissing his fingers.

‘I feel the same way’ was left unspoken, lost amidst their lips meeting and hands straying anew, the royal tiger once again ensnared by the foolish, loving rabbit.

End

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikepri smut #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

318 notes · View notes

oh-no-a-whovian · 4 years ago

Text

Just wanted to know you

18+

Summary: SCP psychiatrist experiences her first containment breach.

Pairing: SCP-035 x fem! Reader

Warnings: lots of blood, death, if there’s others let me know

Word count: 1451

Masterlist

An alarm blares in your ears as you walk slowly through the darkened corridor, your feet barefoot to prevent sound. You’re trying to get to the nearest secure room to lock yourself away safely from whatever SCP escaped. Red lights flash as MTF members rush along the hallways past you in both directions with heavy steps and loaded guns in their hands, ignoring you in favour of eliminating the threat.

You’ve been working at the foundation for nine months now and this is the first time you’ve actually been scared. There is a great many violent SCPs within the site, most of them very likely to try something and some of them deadly.

Shouting sounds out through the corridors above the sirens as you approach the door to safety. You scan your card and reach for the handle but your heart stutters. The door budges but refuses to open, something blocking it and preventing it from moving more than a centimetre. Someone is probably in there and the fuckers probably blocked off the door so no one else could enter.

Dread fills your heart as you try desperately to open the door, screaming in frustration. You press your back to the door with a sob, glancing each direction down the long hallway. They almost seem to stretch endlessly in both directions as the lights flicker with menacing red. “Whoever is in there, you’re a fucking arsehole!” you shout into the gap before moving away.

The sounds of gun fire and shouting move further away and slowly stop as you start to creep along the hall in their direction. You hold your heeled shoe like a weapon, ready to smack anything that comes at you. You know it probably won’t help, it’s not exactly sharp or even very hard but it’s comforting to know you can go down fighting. Each random noise makes you pause, wide eyed and fearful, staring into the darkened hallway as you try to see movement.

The next safe room is a few hallways over and your own room just a bit further than that but you pause in concern as you peek around the corner. The walls and floor is splattered in blood and MTF bodies are scattered down the whole stretch. Your hands fly to your mouth as you stare in wide eyed horror.

You stand frozen at the intersection of corridors, feeling sick at the sight of your dead co-workers. Your eyes catch sight of a creature but you can’t move, your legs refusing to budge as the SCP sniffs the air. Its skin is red and wet and its teeth are sharp. Down its back run tall spines. SCP-939.

You almost scream as a hand wraps around your wrist and another covers your mouth, pulling you back around the corner. For a moment you breathe easier, with your eyes clasped shut, thinking you’ve been saved. An MTF soldier has saved you.

“Is someone there?” SCP-939 calls down the hallway in an all too human voice. The voices of a man it killed. “Hello?” you hear more join its side but you hold your breath.

You open your eyes as the person who saved you starts to pull you back along the hallway to the first office he found. You’re confused though a D class? Why would a D class be out let alone go to the effort to save you?

He keeps his back to you as he locks the door and closes the curtains of the room. You notice though, as he peeks through the shutters, a weird black goo drips from his wrists and out the bottom of his pant legs, even soaking through his jumpsuit.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, concerned but backing away from him, fearful that something is wrong with the man in front of you.

Slowly he turns to you, dropping his hand from the curtain and letting them fall shut. On his face is a white porcelain mask, its smiling face sending chills down your spine. Your butt and palms collide with a desk as he moves toward you and you panic as his hands land either side of you, his body moving way too close to you.

You close your eyes and wait for death. You’ve seem an image of that mask every day that you’ve walked through the corridors to appointments. And you’ve seen its designation. Keter. Which means it’s incredibly hard to contain.

You’ve also seen the effects of exposure to the mask. A great many who work near it coming to you in distress, their minds breaking from its influence.

“I’ve sensed you every day, walking past my cell.” He whispers into your ear, his body so close but not touching. “I’ve felt you so, so close but I couldn’t pull you in” he breathes.

“Please don’t kill me” you whimper, your heart racing and your whole body shaking in sheer terror.

“You must have a strong mind to be immune to me.” He says, his right hand hovering up your arm. “Look at me” he growls, gripping your chin and lifting your face toward his. Your eyes peek open to meet his mask once more and it shifts from sadness to joy before your eyes. Black ooze soaks through his orange jumpsuit and out of the eyes of the mask, leaving contrasting trails down his face. “How are you immune?”

“I… I’m an SCP too…” you whisper.

“That shouldn’t matter” he tilts his head, his fingers trailing down your neck.

“I’m immune to all other SCPs with memetic or un-natural abilities.”

He hums as he looks over you, his body still too close, pinning you in place. The black liquid soaks from him into your white medical coat and floral top, already deteriorating the cloth.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he whispers.

“Then why…”

“I just wanted to know you.” he says, his left hand sitting on your thigh, slightly under your skirt. “It frustrated me to no end that I could not get into your head.” He huffs in amused annoyance, rubbing his thumb on your inner thigh. You feel confused and scared as he holds himself close to you. “Something about you felt different to any other person that has past by my cell. And I have to admit I liked it.”

“Maybe I’m just designed that way.” You tell him as your heart continues to race loudly in your chest. Why is he doing this? And why… why do you kind of like it?

“You are more beautiful than I thought. I can tell that you are powerful” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear with his right hand and sliding his left further up your skirt. “Deep down, you are far more powerful than they know. You’ve kept it from them. told a little lie to keep yourself safe.”

“What do you want from me?”

“This was all I wanted. To finally meet you, to see you, to… feel you.” he sighs. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No… but I want to.” He curves his palm on your cheek and you can feel the black goo slide down your neck but you don’t move. Running boots and new gunfire sounds out in the hall, the flashes lighting through the gaps in the curtains and under the door. Creatures screaming as they’re riddled with bullets. “I have a feeling that’s not going to happen though. Not now anyway.” His mask switching to sad. “No need to be scared, you’ll be safe here.” He tells you, finally pulling away and moving to the door. “I’ll see you again, Doctor”

You watch as he leaves, shutting the door behind himself. A few minutes pass as you stare at the door waiting for more gunfire to sound out. You have no idea what any of that was, why he’d fixated on you. The way he touched you, so gentle and wishing for more. It was like he was holding himself back but so desperate.

The all clear alarm sounds out across the facility and you finally blink. As you exit the room and MTF member spots you and guides you back to your room, locking your up for clean-up of the facility.

~~~~~~

One week after the event and you are cleared for duty. They declared that SCP-035 had no lasting effects on your body or mind.

You walk down the corridor to the cafeteria but unlike all the other times you’ve walked along this way, you pause at one particular door, staring at the descriptor and picture. The picture shifts as you stand there staring at it, changing from sad to joy once more…

A/N: Like and reblog to share the love!!!

#scp 035 #scp x reader #scp 035 x reader #scp fandom #scp containment breach #scp foundation

257 notes · View notes

q-gorgeous · 2 years ago

Text

coup de foudre chapter 11

fanfiction

ao3

hi i am very late. heres the two last chapters that i had written but procrastinated on

He was losing hold on his ghost half, it was almost like it was slipping out of him. He could see Phantom’s arm lagging behind his own as he waved it through the air.

It had been a couple days since him and Dash were separated. He didn’t know how many. It really was hard to tell the passage of time when you only ever got to stare at four white walls all the time.

He was starting to lose hope. Normally if Sam and Tucker had a plan to get him out it would’ve happened already, especially if Jazz was helping them. But something must’ve gone wrong. Maybe they tried to break in already but the GIW caught them. Maybe they were being experimented on like they were doing to him and Dash. Maybe they got arrested for trespassing, sent to juvie where they’d be no help to him anymore. There would be no one else to come looking for him here.

Danny took another look at his arms. He waggled his fingers and watched as Phantom’s gloves followed behind.

He hoped this would be reversible. It would be a pain to hide at school and from his parents.

Suddenly the door to his room was opening and Agent O walked in, his arms folded behind his back.

“Good morning, ghost.”

“Is it morning?” Danny pushed himself up slowly and scratched the bottom of his chin and put on a thinking face. “It’s really hard to tell in here. Would love a clock. Maybe a window.”

“Very funny.” Agent O straightened his tie and folded his arms behind his back again. “I’m here to ask you one last time how you ended up like this.”

“And I’m once again telling you that I’ll never tell you,” Danny spat.

“Oh. I think you might.” Agent O leaned down to look at him. “Your friend won’t last much longer if we keep doing experiments on him. If you give us the information we need, that’ll be the last experiment that he’ll undergo.”

“What happened to me could kill him just the same!” Danny shouted. “I don’t even know how I survived! Why would I tell you when it could kill him?”

“If he’ll be dead either way, why does it matter if you tell us?” Agent O asked coldly.

“Because I’m not going to give you the information you need to turn people into monsters!”

Agent O leveled a look at him. “Monsters? Is that how you view yourself?”

Danny shook his head. “No. But what you’ll do to them, train them to be killers, is what will make them monsters.”

Brushing some imaginary dust off of his suit jacket, Agent O made a tsking noise. “They’ll be saviors. They’ll save us from those ghosts who attack every single day. Whether or not you tell us, we’ll find out the formula. But just know that your friend's fate will be on your hands.”

Agent O turned towards the door, making to leave when an alarm started going off, the lights changing from white to red, flashing.

“What’s that?” Danny asked, looking around.

“A breach in security,” Agent O said.

A few moments later Danny managed to hear the stomping of many pairs of heavy feet, even through the thick containment walls around his room. Soon someone was at his door and they were cutting their way through with some kind of laser.

When it was cut all the way through it was kicked in. The door fell to the ground and behind it was an entirely different set of agents.

“FBI, put your hands up!” said the man in the lead of the group, his gun pointed at Agent O.

Agent O held his hands up in the air, slowly backing towards Danny.

“I’m on your side. You guys don’t know what you’re dealing with here,” he said slowly.

“Stop moving, keep your hands in the air,” the FBI agent barked.

Agent O took another step back before he was suddenly pulling Danny up off the ground and shielding himself with him. He pulled a weapon off his belt and held it up to Danny’s neck, turning it on. It buzzed like a taser but the smell burned like ectoplasm.

“Step away from the child!” the FBI agent shouted, peering into the scope of his gun as he aimed it at Agent O.

“Don’t take another step forward or I’ll zap him.” Agent O gestured at Danny with the taser. Danny scrabbled at his arm, trying to pry it away from his neck. “You don’t know what this kid is, what he’s capable of. He’s not really one of us. He’s masquerading as a human.”

Danny looked back and forth between Agent O and the FBI agents. He couldn’t gauge how much the FBI actually knew about his situation, their masks and stoic posture gave him nothing to go off of. All he could assume was that this was Sam, Tucker, and Jazz’s doing. He didn’t know why they called in the FBI for this when it could risk his secret.

Danny’s eyes widened as a realization hit him.

They’re probably trying to get the GIW shut down.

Struck with a new vigor, Danny started pulling at Agent O again. His ghost half was still lagging behind him. He could feel Agent O being kicked twice with each swing of his leg.

He saw the FBI agent glance down as his leg lagged behind itself. Shit. There was no way he didn’t see that.

“I said step away from the child!” He barked again.

Danny could hear the crackling of the taser being held right beside his neck. He could hear as the pitch of the buzzing got higher as the voltage got turned up. More FBI agents walked into the room, sending Agent O walking backwards, pulling Danny with him. He could feel when Agent O bumped into the wall behind him, finally blocked from going anywhere else. Every FBI agent had their gun trained on Agent O.

For a moment, nothing happened. He could feel Agent O looking between all the FBI agents, looking for a way out. When he saw none, he made his last move.

Agent O pushed the taser the rest of the distance to Danny’s neck. His breath hitched in his throat and his whole body tightened up.

The last thing Danny remembered was falling to the floor as the FBI agents finally rushed Agent O. The sound of gunshots as he hit the ground beneath him. The world started to grow blurry, everything swimming around him.

Then the world goes dark.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #invisobang 2022 #dash baxter #danny fenton #swagger bishie #giw #fanfiction #fanfic #phic

3 notes · View notes

lunaralight09 · 4 years ago

Text

049-j x SCP reader with sensitive hearing.

Requested by : mengy007 in Wattpad

What about 049-j x Sensitive listener? Like the listener is another Scp who has very sensitive ears and I’ve learned he tends to shout a lot so maybe he could learn to be a bit more quiet? Idk just a suggestion

I had no imagination . My brain just melted from school . And it's 12:04 am (when I started writing) 19 September , my birthday . And idk how it's a conscience , but I made my account after month(Wattpad) of my bday . Idk why I write it here . MY BRAIN MELTED . AND MY INSIDE DEMONS ARE SO FRICKING LAZY . WRITTER DEMON IN ME CAN'T WAKE UP . Okay enjoy what I wrote .

Ahem . He can be loud . It's really hard for him to control it . He can not see the differences if he's talking loud or normal volume .

When you first met him . He just wanted a friend . But he obliviously made you(r) scared/head hurt , he fricked out from your reaction . Just know that he is very sorry .

Foundation know that you have really sensitive hearing . So they took you away from his cell . Jay was sad . Really sad :(

Second meeting was . Well you had ear plugs ... just incase . He was trying to keep himself from talking toooooooo loud , he tried to whisper a little . Thanks for that 049-J ! You talked a little bit . And that's a start of your friendship .

After like month or two he started to control his voice volume . Thanks to you Y/n !

Platonic relationship :

He really appreciate your friendship . You're a really fricking close friend of his . More closer than his brother . Well he didn't see him in a really long time . So then a containment breach happen . And you were with him and he saw Estienne . He just took you arm and hurried to introduce you to him . And he was shocked . He had a friend . And you're lucky that Doc is calm and don't talk loudly .

And about breaches . The alarm is literally scare you so much . But researchers and some guards were kind and convince the 05 to make your room not to much sound proofed , so you can not frick the f- out of loud noises , but still to hear it .

If Jay find something cool he will give it to you if he sees you . It can be like origami to jewelry from dead reaserche-

Romance relationship :

Well ... HE WANTS TO CUDDLE WITH YOU REALLY MUCH . He's fricking touch starved . He will give you gifts too ! Jewelry , cool looking pens , oh you like to draw ? He will collect many papers/notebooks and such things like that . You want to listen music . He will give you random phones that he found . If Foundation take them from you ...*Whisper* Don't worry he have another one for you- .

He will introduce you to his brother . And Doc is literally like :

WHEN DID MY BROTHER FOUND A SIGNIFICANT OTHER . AND IN FOUNDATION ? WHAT THE HELL . And really amazed by that Jay's talking not to loud as he used to . 'Cause now he don't scream about him being the best cure . He's now talking about you all the time with him . And Doc is like : "Ummm can I ... go now ? No ? But I need to cur-"

#reader #scp #scp reader #scp 049 j #scp x reader #scp 049 j x reader #scp x scp reader #platonic #romantic #reader with sensitive hearing #sensitive hearing

73 notes · View notes

meteor-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Hello! Haven't been writing recently but realised hey it's flash fiction friday, maybe i'll have a look and this one got me excited! Thanks for doing this @flashfictionfridayofficial !

Containment Breach - 415 words

Alarms are blaring. So loud I know I shouldn't stay. The warning lights are flashing. Big bold letters. Containment breach. Over and over, again and again. I clamp my hands over my ears and scream.

I hate the sound. I hate the words. The first time I heard them was when I saw a face through the window of my cell. I touched the door. My back smacked the wall. I didn't know it had been electrified.

The next time I was more careful. When I saw a new face, I called out. He turned. He looked terrified. The alarm sounded. I cried.

The third was an experiment. They came in their white suits and yellow boots as they always did. They gave me my food and a fresh blue dress. I looked at the door. The open corridor. And only for a second I imgained walking through it. They tackled me before I could even try.

I didn't notice you.

But after that, you left a note. I only read a few words before the noise started but they were plenty. "I'll talk to you."

I thought you'd never return but you did. It was notes at first. And then it was whispers. Actual words. The alarms got louder but your voice did too. It had a sweetness to it. Soothed. And I had to sit on my hands to stop myself reaching for you when you left.

But then I did.

I touched your glove and it was like the electricity from the door only it pulled instead of repelled. I leaned forward, looked into those velvet eyes and they didn't dart. You were so close but then there was a crash.

And we were ripped apart.

The alarms blared and they dragged you away and my throat tore with the strength of my voice. You promised to return but you never did and now the alarms are screeching but your voice isn't here and I never touched the door but my skin is burning and I haven't left my room but-

You have my hand. Your fingers are warm. Your skin is calloused. Mine is tissue paper thin. I can hear the alarms. I can see the lights. But the door is open.

"We can go." You say.

I squeeze your hand. "Is it safe?"

You smile. "I hope so."

That's when I realise you're inside. You have no gloves. You have no mask. You have no fears.

There's no containment now.

#flash fiction #writeblr #storytime #prompts #romance story #sci fi story #short story #story 77

13 notes · View notes

bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing · 4 years ago

Text

As many TV shows, movies, games, books etc have fans that writes different ideas, pairings, alternative univers (AU) etc about them, this is just fanfiction and it should be treated as such, do not complain or believe anything i'm writting!!

I'm doing this just for fun and because i love to do this (write fanfiction when i can), eh... Too much creativity, lool!!! Also, this is a challenge I accepted because there are persons i've meet on Youtube with who i agree that we need a few fanfictions and of course i hope that the rest of you mini-cookies will enjoy it too, hope it's not that bad. 😅

P.s yes, I fell into the pit of SCP univers and i don't need help... I'm perfectly sane and capable 🙂

Disclaimer: I don't own the following original character: ->Detective Void

If someone is interested in SCPs, want to know more about SCP, or just want to see more animations, you can check his videos on Youtube, just search -> Detective Void (you can find this channel also translated in german, spanish, russian (original) if you have a hard time understanding english)

🙂🙂🙂

...................................

1. Alright so first thing first, this is not a couple thing do not treat it like a couple 😒 i'm serious, very serious... DO NOT!!!

2. Second, i will write the following fanfictions.

It wasn't like his whole life flash in front of his eyes, his breath was stady despite the situation they were in, the usual plan failed just like the Site he was in if he don't make any progress in finding a way out.

Any plan B, he couldn't come up with any, how could one person even think when at the moment he had to avoid the bullets, people were dieing, screaming and lots of smoke that it almost made his view bad. Of any days they decide to pick exactly when he was doing his job, making it alive for the next video or all this would have been in vain seems nearly impossible.

How did he got himself in this situation, you may ask? Well, it begins as any day when the detective infiltrates in the SCP foundation, however what his detective skills didn't warn him about was the violent interaction between the foundation and it's counterpart, as he was searching and uploading the new information, a loud deafening noise broke the silence, initially believing that a containment breach was ongoing, the red alarm went off. That was his ticket to get out of the building and he should keep moving if the detective didn't want to encounter the "surprise". The SCP business was very risky, but he couldn't help but wonder what SCP did escaped this time, couldn't blame it for wanting to escape, the foundation treat them horrible most of the time.

His current position was in the west wing of the building, the main entrance was blocked by what looked like an explosion that took place, so it wasn't an option anymore, more footsteps could be heard, the path that leads to the main sewerage network wasn't available either since a fight was going on. His only option remained was to fight through the whole madness staying alive.

Bumping into one of the Chaos insurgency soldiers wasn't exactly in plan, the soldier didn't have time to pull the trigger when the detective immobilized him, the soldier tried in vain to get free from the detective grip, sure the detective wasn't much of a fighter but that didn't meant he couldn't protect himself in the end knock out the other.

"I hope i don't get PTSD after this day end, gosh it's feeling like it's war again. I must look real bad right now..."

As one of the automatic metal door open up, the detective took cover, it reveal a few more of the Chaos insurgency soldiers, they were heavily armed, detective Void couldn't tell exactly what they were looking for, his feet slowly bump into something that looked like a corpse, he couldn't tell which one was it since half of it was burned probably caught in one of the explosions but it still had a M4 and it was functional.

He turned around just exactly when the metal bar fell of the second floor only to to see a young female falling following by two gunshots.

Lucky detective Void caught her just on time while holding her in his arms, he could feel how two bullets flew right next to his ears hitting the two targets of the Chaos insurgency soldiers, never in his life he would thought that he would be happy to see one of the SCP foundation mobile task force approaching them, the guy had green eyes and the detective could see the worry on his face for the girl.

"Come with me and don't ask questions, this is a trap door that leads to an corridor near the Site underground parking and don't worry the SCP foundation is not that weak as you think!"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Matei, we don't have time to chat! Do you know how to use a gun like automatic guns,semi-auto hand guns, rifles, shotguns or any type of machine guns in general? Here, take this Sig sauer P320 and the keys for one of the foundation grey land-rover, oh by the way the car has tracking device so you better get rid of it once it done it's purpose! Oh and tell Hope she owns me a date with... "

"Wait, you trust me by giving me this? Aren't you suppose to capture me or something, what your employers would think about this?"

"You saved one of us from falling, pal...this is a thank you thing and now what are you waiting for? Special invitation? I trust you to get her out of here!"

Detective Void couldn't risk being seen on the surveillance cameras so he stops for a second to put down the cameras the whole incident was a great cover as he showly took Hope under his arms while the path was still clear, finding the underground parking lot and got into the near grey SCP foundation land-rover range he found.

As soon as he hit it a bullet strike the left of the car mirror that was the sign to start the car and drove fast enough out of there, tree more black cars following after.

"At least they are decent enough to equip their cars with bullet proof windows."

The second crack come, then the third and the fourth, the road wasn't too good even if the car was tall, he still felt every time the cars wheels fell into the pits, the speed was 265 km/h, he needed a plan to lose those cars, a small moan was heard, the female SCP opened her eyes for a moment, trying to reach the yellow button on the board, he instant press it... It showed a map with the curent location of their car, detective Void saw that it was a secundary forest road that had a river on it's right side, his companion also pointed toward the glove compartment that made him suspect it could have been some type of a prototype destructive bomb.

First thing he needed to buy some time, it was risky but the detective could do it, he didn't have his driving license for nothing, after that he placed the car in the position to look like it was some error on his part, the bomb needed some finger prints to activate which his companion help it with it. She understood the plan and trusted the person even if she couldn't see him better and was in pain.

The black cars soon stopped near the Land rover as the Chaos insurgency soldiers surrounded the vehicle, by the time it explode detective Void and Hope were on the other side of the river, black smoke rising as the other cars caught fire and more explosion followed after.

The two soaked wet survivors were waiting on the sideroad for someone to pick them up, her shoulder wound was bleeding heavily, a red old car stopped near them offering help.

After that he thanked the driver for his help, taking Hope, they move to his front door, he had to remove those bullets, he did have a stomach for it.

"They sure did a great job with the 7,62 mm but you will be alright, this isn't exactly a pain in the shoulder, there are much worst."

All Hope wanted was her eyes to adjust to the light and the headache to disappear, was she in the firmary, she couldn't tell and the surface on which she sat was very uncomfortable, making a mental note to tell them later. The figure in front didn't belong to anyone who she knew and the first reaction was to slap the masked man and he took a few steps back before Hope could do anything.

"You sure have a short memory... Hello and don't worry... i'm detective Void."

The silence felt for a few minutes and Hope was studing the man in front of her, she didn't know what to say, who he was or how did she end up there God knows where, so she said the first thing it come to her mind.

"Who names their child Void and hello i'm Hope, nice to meet you. Now, do you mind me asking how did a detective end up in one of the SCP foundation sites? I don't know if you know it already but this is a dangerous business with creatures that can kill you, it's not worth it throwing your life like this, even for money."

"Your boyfriend, Matei told me to take you to safety and since you are a SCP unless you want everyone to know, an hospital wasn't the best option for your condition.By the way he sure has his way when it comes to guns, you must be proud of him."

At that remark Hope sigh, why does everyone thinks she and him were a couple if only they knew how difficult was sometimes to be in the same room with Matei and still be sane after all that.

"Matei is not my boyfriend, more like a pal and brother-in-arms plus he has a crush on Vivienne and is a mini version of Dr. Bright, we did a few missions together as part of the mobile task force.And yes, he sure has his ways, they are his passion, it's his natural talent."

"So you know how to use guns? I saw the foundation has a lovely collection.Maybe i should stop someday and admire them..."

At this Hope froze, another visit from the detective means trouble and chaos for both the foundation and him, one day he will get what was coming for him if the detective keep it going like that, that will not end pretty, the thought of this made her uncomfortable and decide to change the topic.

"Do you live alone by yourself or are you married, just in case your wife will freak out when she will see me, i don't want to be the main reason of a divorce, are those copies of SCP files?"

"Those are confidential informations and you don't have acces to it..."

"So are the SCPs files, high classified details that you steal from the foundation!"

"I don't steal them, i only burrow it anyway this is about my private life and it's different!"

"Aha, anyway i should help you clean this mess, it's quite a mess here, from treating and caring a bullet wound.Hope i didn't permanent damage anything with my blood, i will pay for the cleaning bill."

"Don't worry about it, it's a wound it's normal to bleed. But i believe it will make a beautiful scar once it heals."

"Did you just call it beautiful as in a compliment?"

"In my defence I was trying to encourage you."

" Seriously, i still should clean it and then go back to the foundation for your safety, i don't want them to find you. It's nice to have someone to talk to, you know... The SCP foundation employees aren't very talkative and they are 24/7 cold as a person. "

"At least you don't want to know my identity, that is worth something."

"The mask is a part of your charm, mister...it's making you more what is the word i'm looking for, attractive in a good way, was it?"

"Did you just flirt with me?"

"No, i'm bad at flirting, i just wanted to say something nice..."

"About the leaving, you don't want to be on streets at this hour especially when the Chaos insurgency is looking for you and being in this condition."

"Why not? It's so dark outside... What time it is?"

"1:11 a.m in the morning."

It was hard for Hope to accept that she had been out for such a long time, there was no way she could give up now and just stay there, she should start to find reasons why missing so much just in case they decide to ask questions and oh boy, she wasn't happy about it.

"Well,no matter how interesting this is, you should be in bed and i will remain here just this one time, you don't mind some company, right?"

"Why was the Chaos insurgency after you? What did you do to make them angry, we barely could escape from that crazy race car chasing."

"There are some information that aren't registered and even if it were you do not have access, let's say the short version is that their mannequin SCP isn't a threat anymore and they didn't like it. "

"You wear too much red powder for cheeks, looks like you have a fever."

"It's only the blood that flows and makes my cheek to color in red, i don't need cosmetics, why do i even talk about make-up with some guy.Is this the beggining of a friendship? I would like that, mister detective. Maybe next time if we meet and we don't get into some crazy situation again, you would tell me something about your great cases as a detective."

"I'm not comfortable enough to tell you anything..."

"I understand, my uniform scares you, mister detective, don't worry i'm not that type of person to hurt her savior!"

The detective only sighs and then turned around, he needed a cup of tea, it was going to be a long night. After the detective silhouette was out of her sign, Hope slowly started to search the room, he made her curious and wanted to know a little more about him, was too stubborn to give up now.

She could see the desk and decided to look there first, it wasn't very nice of her but she had to know, she slowly got up trying to find her balance.

After some time and scanning the area Hope was disappointed, the room was modest enough, she saw a computer with a camera attached to it, some SCP photos with speculations about them, a broken photo frame, maybe this guy was lonely as she was, some questions where born in her head and a laptop with a very familiar SCP logo on it. she wanted to give up but a small noise coming from the closet raised her suspicions again...Did the detective had skeletons in his wardrobe?

Her hand was almost on the door handle when a voice interrupted her, Hope nearly froze in place, it was like a child caught red handed by their parents when they did something they weren't suppose to do.

The detective decide to ignore what he just saw, he did tell she was curious about it, it was alright in his opinion, wasn't like he hide a body or worst, he left the two cups of tea on his desk, he could still feel those eyes studing him, shivers went up to his spine.

"Are you cold? Do you want to change your clothes?They might be a little too big for you, do you have any favorite color, you would like to wear?"

"Blue or grey... And no, i'm fine."

She sure felt bad, the person in front of her was so nice, yes, maybe he did those forbidden things, he was a wanted man by the SCP foundation, but he was still innocent, he must have his reasons and it felt wrong to care about it.

"Did something happen? You were much worst than a chat a few minutes ago and now your silent."

"Oh, it's not that bad, i've got used to...well, at least in theory, in practice that is not available. It's my shoulder, do you have more anesthetic, this burning sensation really annoys me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, just one moment, i'm always prepared for things like this."

"Don't be sorry, if is sorrow you always feel then you will forget how to smile and that would be tragic, i know you have a beautiful smile."

"How do you know i have a beautiful smile, you haven't seen me smile once, i even can't remember the last time i smile."

Hope slowly raised her arm touching with her fingertip a strand of his short brown hair, the detective just stood still, he find it weird that he didn't mind it at all.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking something, usually people in this situation won't stay still unless they trust the other person, you aren't afraid of me, you may say lot's of things but the body language says the truth. So, what's in the cups, mister detective Void? I hope it's hot chocolate, i need my daily extra energy."

The sun was rising and it's rays touched his face forcing him to open his eyes, detective Void realising he felt asleep on the couch covered with a blanket, he couldn't remember when sleep took over him probably because running for your life and taking care of someone after was in general a exhausting combination. His guess wasn't in the same room with him, this happens when you bring home more than some documents, she must have left, not that he really cared at all, right now all the detective wanted was another drink.

"Why does it smell like roses in my kitchen?"

"Oh that, well it's my perfume, it doesn't smell bad, are you allergic to it, sorry? I must say you have such a good nose even the discreet smell you can still identify it, i'm impressed."

"It's just one of my many talents, you need to have a gift if you want to become a detective and good morning!"

"Good morning, mister detective Void! I hope you slept well, and didn't have any nightmares because of the fact you have a SCP in your house. I couldn't leave without leaving a suitable goodbye."

"How did you know i like tea and what is with this? Why is giving me the atmosphere of marriage vibes?"

"It wasn't hard to know you like tea, you literaly have space just for tea plus you told me last night, i must say sometimes i enjoy a cup of chamomile tea in the winter with a good book while the snow is falling."

She then turn and took a bite of her sandwich to prove it wasn't poison or anything, she notice the look on his face, as a detective it was perfect normal to have suspicions every single time, Hope found it funny, but the truth was she would be sad if he didn't remember her anymore actually breaking her little heart.

Hope wonder if it was good, her new friend hadn't said too much and it was time to leave, it was now or never. It took a little courage to do it since she didn't exactly do that, prefers a hand shake in this situation but a part of her really wanted to do it.

She slowly approaches him, looking into his eyes, could feel her cheeck color in red, before he could ask her something, Hope said not to ruin the moment, she could feel him tense a little bit as her lips where touching his forehead but immediately relaxing, she could see he was confused.

"First i don't know how to give a proper thank you, so i felt like kissing you on the forehead and second all men loves to be kissed so why not? Goodbye for now mister detective and thank you!"

After that she made her way out and the detective didn't see her anywhere but there will be always the next time as they will meet each other again.

The end!

P. S Don't cry because it is over, be happy that it was!

Thank you for reading! 🌹

@drcheatheirn if you want to read 🙃

#fanfiction #Part 1 #Oh boy #here we go again #enjoy #detective void #not my oc #scp universe

44 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

Newt picks up a parasite while working on a sample, like we talked about!!

basic summary: think sex pollen but parasite...that removes your inhibitions and makes you all lovey-dovey 👀 👀 👀 this marvelous idea belongs to @k-sci-janitor and we talked it over in discord the other night. hope u enjoy!!!

------------------------------------

“You’re in a right foul mood today,” Hermann says one morning, when Newton stomps—grumbling, scowling, and slamming the door behind him hard enough to send Hermann’s pencil cup teetering over the edge of his desk—into the lab. Hermann catches the cup with one hand and rights it. He arches an eyebrow at Newton as Newton ignores him in favor of hurtling himself into his desk chair. Newton’s sudden downward mood shifts are no stranger to Hermann, but they rarely take this sort of form—he’s far more the sort to engage Hermann in pointless arguments or lock himself away in his bunk than throw a tantrum. “What on Earth is the matter?”

“My request to join the Singapore trip got denied,” Newton announces.

Ah. That would do it. Newton was excited about the prospect of overseeing the salvaging of fresh samples for weeks, to the extent that it was all he would talk about to Hermann. Hermann is not typically in the business of extending pity to Newton (and Newton is not typically in the business of wanting pity from Hermann), but he does feel a small twinge of it anyway. “Ah, bad luck,” Hermann says. He wonders if he should offer Newton a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, but then realizes that would require him to get up and move across the laboratory, and decides it’s more trouble than it’s worth. He twists his mouth down sympathetically instead. “Well, perhaps it’s a good thing. Travelling’s just a great big bloody hassle, isn’t it? All the packing, and airports...”

“I love travelling,” Newton says.

“What I mean to say,” Hermann tries again, “is that now you can devote your time to more, er, worthy pursuits. Your work, for example. I imagine there’s plenty to be done here.”

“Dude,” Newton says. “No.”

Hermann appreciates the opportunity to shut up. Newton, still grumbling to himself, pulls on a pair of disposable work gloves and straps on his headlamp. “I’m workin’ with shit that’s three months old, dude,” Newton says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. Finding it highly unlikely he’ll get any proper work done until Newton finishes his oncoming tirade, he picks up that morning’s uncompleted crossword puzzle.

“It’s decaying,” Newton says. “It’s barely viable. You see this bullshit?”

He holds ups a greyish strand of kaiju intestine. Hermann pushes up his glasses and pretends to observe it. “Mm,” he repeats.

“It was barely viable when I got it,” Newton says. “So stupid. Whoever they have in charge of salvaging is a fucking clown. I should be in charge of it everywhere.” He rips a chunk of the intestine in half with a disgusting wet sound that makes Hermann wince. “They should let me go to Singapore. I said I’d pay for my own plane ticket. My work here is too important, apparently. Ha! Then why don’t they give us some funding, huh?”

“Quite right,” Hermann mumbles, and fills in a clue of the puzzle.

“I already bought those little travel-sized shampoo bottles too,” Newton says. “And I—“

He stops, suddenly, mid-sentence. As if the words have been seized from his very throat. Hermann looks up: Newton is standing, still, quiet, mouth half-open. He remains that way for a full minute. It’s no small amount of disconcerting. Is this some strange new act of protest he’s decided upon? Not speaking at all? “Newton?” Hermann finally says, cautiously breaching the silence.

Newton shakes himself, and casts a funny look at Hermann. As if Hermann is the one behaving in an utterly bizarre fashion. “Wha?”

“Are you—?” Hermann sighs. It’s not worth it. “Never mind. Well, at any rate, I’m sorry about your trip.”

He’s made nice headway on the rest of the crossword puzzle—some ten-odd minutes later, perhaps—when he hears Newton set down his scalpel with a clatter. Newton has been strangely, though blissfully, silent up until then, a stark departure from his mood upon arrival. “Hermann,” he says. Rubber snaps as he pulls off his work gloves, one by one. “Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?”

“Beautiful eyes?” Hermann snorts. “No. And someone’s told you that you do, I suppose?” Rather odd thing to get competitive over, but perhaps it’ll cheer him up.

“Why would someone tell me that?” Newton says.

Hermann looks up. Newton is still staring at him in that funny little way—almost dazed, Hermann realizes, as if someone’s smacked him upside the head, or he’s had a bit too much to drink. The last time Newton looked like that, he upended the contents of an ill-advised trip to a club for his birthday all over Hermann’s trousers. “What on earth is the matter?” Hermann says. “Are you feeling ill?”

“Your cheekbones drive me nuts,” Newton says.

“Did you hit your head?” Hermann says.

Newton crosses the lab in several quick, easy strides, and—to Hermann’s utter and abject confusion—swings himself down onto Hermann’s lap. Hermann stays stock-still as Newton burrows in against his neck. “Hermann,” he sighs. “Hermann—” His fingers slide up the back of Hermann’s scalp to toy with his hair, and Hermann’s hands fly out to grip his waist instinctively. “You must be the most gorgeous guy in the whole world. On the whole planet.”

Hermann makes a funny choking noise.

“And so smart,” Newton says, “and talented.” He twists a short strand of Hermann’s hair between his fingertips, and exhales heavily. His breath is warm against Hermann’s skin and sends goosebumps prickling across it. Hermann feels too-hot under his collar; his ears, he’s sure, are turning a spectacular red. “I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you, like, all the time, dude. Do you remember last month, when I cut my hand?”

Hermann nods, not trusting himself to speak. It was a rather frightening moment for them both: Newton pale, red human blood mingling with the blue of the kaiju’s on his workbench, his (red) scalpel dangling limply between his fingertips. It was why Hermann began insisting on his wearing work gloves in the laboratory after that. “I was distracted because I couldn’t stop looking at you,” Newton admits. “Your were wearing a new sweater, and all I wanted to do was go over there and...”

He whispers something in Hermann’s ear. “Newton,” Hermann squeaks, eyes widening.

Newton pulls back just so slightly and looks at him. His mouth is inches away from Hermann’s—their noses so close as to bump together. Newton’s eyes drop to Hermann’s lips. His tongue darts out across his own, wetting them. “Dude. You know how much I...”

“Yes?” Hermann says.

“Ever since—”

“Since when?” Hermann says, eagerly. He can scarcely believe this is even happening—it feels as though all of his fantasies have come to life at once.

Newton begins to lean in. In a heartbeat, Hermann will be kissing him. “Oh, Newton,” Hermann murmurs, and (shutting his eyes) reaches up to cup the back of Newton’s head.

Instead of feeling nothing but Newton’s soft, brown hair, however, he feels something vaguely...slimy, atop it. Slimy, and...pulsing. Hermann falls away from him with a yelp. “Newton, there’s something on your—!”

“Huh?” Newton says, and leans back in for a second attempt at a kiss. But Hermann dodges him and jerks Newton’s shoulder around to get a good look at the back of his head. There—right at the nape of his neck—some odd, small, blue little thing. Otherworldly leech, perhaps. Hermann’s stomach churns unpleasantly at the sight of it. “Is something wrong?” Newton says. He blinks innocently at Hermann behind his glasses.

“No!” Hermann says. The little thing stares innocently at Hermann, too, or at least it would if it had visible eyes. “Er—just had a few questions answered, I suppose. By Jove, Newton, you—”

“Hmm?” Kiss evidently forgotten, Newton begins to stroke the close-cropped part of Hermann’s hair. He gives a high-pitched giggle. “Your hair is so fuzzy.”

Right. Off to medical, it is. “Get off of me, please,” Hermann says, as calmly as he can manage. Apparently not as calmly as he intended: Newton flinches, and he scrambles to his feet as if Hermann had shouted it.

“Oh, dude, your leg! I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“My what?” Hermann says. He glances down at his lap. His thighs are still tingling from Newton’s body—Newton’s warm, warm body, which Hermann had his hands on only moments prior... “Oh. Er. Yes. Right.” He coughs. “Would you hand me my cane, Newton?”

Newton obliges. Hermann pushes himself up, and grabs a firm hold of Newton’s hand; he steers them both out the laboratory door, Newton providing very little resistance. In fact, he appears even happy to follow Hermann. “Where are we going?” Newton says. Then he frowns. “Wait. Don’t you wanna make out with me?”

Hermann swears under his breath. “Believe me,” he grumbles, “I would like nothing more than that.” Then he says, louder, “We’re going to get...ice cream.”

“Oh!” Newton says. “Yay!”

The doctor on duty in medical doesn’t look surprised to see them. “I was wondering when Dr. Geiszler would be back in,” she says, as Hermann nudges Newton over the threshold. “What is it this time? Kaiju venom? Is he bleeding to death again?”

“Some sort of...parasite, I think,” Hermann says. “He’s been saying—” He clears his throat. “Odd things. He’s not quite himself.”

“I thought we were getting ice cream?” Newton says.

The doctor catches Hermann’s eye. “Yes, of course, it’s right back here, Dr. Geiszler,” she says, and ushers Newton into the examination room. When she catches sight of the back of Newton’s head, her eyebrows jump in alarm. To Hermann, she says, under her breath, “Oh.”

“Isn’t Hermann the hottest guy ever?” Newton asks her just as the door shuts behind them. Hermann blushes fiercely.

They emerge twenty minutes later, Newton clutching a small Tupperware container. Inside of it is the little blue leech. He grins when he sees Hermann. “Hey, dude, check this out!” He thrusts the Tupperware out so Hermann may take in a better view of it. “This was stuck to me! Isn’t that gnarly? I was wondering where it went.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He hopes Newton doesn’t ask after his blush, which has yet to fade, and indeed only grown more prominent; the door to the examination room is rather thin, and he heard every single thing Newton said about him in those twenty minutes—extollations of everything from the various facets of Hermann’s physical appearance, to Hermann’s mental prowess, to what an, er, attentive lover he imagines Hermann would be. Most of these were in great detail.

“It appears to be something of Anteverse origin,” the doctor tells them. “Some sort of leech which removes one’s inhibitions. Dr. Geiszler likely came into contact with it on one of his samples. I’m glad you brought him in when you did—I’m not sure what effects prolonged exposure would have.”

“I kinda want to keep it in a terrarium or something,” Newton says. “Isn’t it cute?”

The leech stares blankly out at Hermann, its blue body pulsing. Hermann suppresses a shudder of revulsion. “Bring him back in if his...condition returns,” the doctor finishes. “And, Dr. Geiszler—please keep an eye on that thing.”

“Sure thing,” Newton says, and then taps the Tupperware and begins to coo.

Hermann doesn’t ask the question that’s weighing on his mind until they’re almost back to the laboratory. “I don’t suppose you...remember the last hour?” he says.

“Nah,” Newton says. “One minute I was examining this little guy, the next, I was in medical.” The corners of his smile twitch down. “Why? I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, did I?” He punctuates this with an awkward laugh.

"No, no,” Hermann says, quickly. He can’t tell if the knowledge disappoints him or not, for surely if Newton did remember, he might feel a tad more courageous in, er...following up on things, so to speak. Removes inhibitions. Just bloody typical, isn’t it? “Not at all. Let’s get you back to the lab, shall we? I imagine we could both do with a cup of tea.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

83 notes · View notes

via-the-ghoul · 4 years ago

Text

SCP Theophobia, Chapter 1: the servant of death with a hidden face

Hey guys, it’s finally finished! I was gonna post this on AO3, but due to their… really weird way of having people join, the first chapter will be posted here first! I guess this is my Halloween gift? Whatever.

Theophobia is a story about Gods and the people they affect. It’s a written story about my take on the SCP universe. There’s also art that I made myself :D.

To start off somewhat simple, this one’s mostly about popular anomalies 049 and 035, though it goes more into detail on 049’s connection to the pantheon. It also develops two foundation doctors, Dr. Vale Eldridge, an oc some of you might already know, and her assistant, newcomer Esther Hepburn.

Content warning for this chapter: some death, plus a character uses a gun at one point.

The sudden loud alarm caught the doctor off guard. He’d heard this specific alarm a lot recently, and at first, he didn’t understand why. Though he did now, and knew he had nothing to fear, he still didn’t like such loud noises.

“SCP-035 has breached containment, refrain from talking to anyone, for we do not know who it has manipulated. Remain calm, this will be handled shortly.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, to himself and himself alone. It turns out each and every one of those times, old Orfeo had merely been trying to get to him. Understandable, it had been over a century since they’d seen each other. Heck, the doctor had grieved as if his dear Orfeo had shattered. They’d used to have to expect the unexpected, being who they were. But now… there were only walls. Occasionally a voice, usually Orfeo’s, but still.

He wondered if he would make it this time. The doctor hadn’t had a good conversation in forever, ever since his… connection to the mask had been made obvious, they feared that they were more dangerous than previously thought.

It didn’t matter, he still had a ritual to complete. This was just a desperate attempt to get back to his work, since Orfeo had unintentionally ruined his first plan. As patient as he was, and as much as he loved seeing Orfeo again, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever trust him with anyone again. He was growing desperate, but he couldn’t let anyone know.

-so could you please come take me away? I’d prefer if it was quiet, they are do not understand me, and I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt-

Another loud sound interrupted his writing. He sighed in annoyance, why must it be so hard to write!?

This time it was the sound of two gun shots from outside his cell doors. And then they opened, revealing quite a site.

On the ground was a black, sticky mess, lying next to an unconscious, slowly dying man with two gunshot wounds. Standing there was the door opener, Orfeo, in a brand-new host, another guard, the host’s helmet lying next to the black goo pile. Looking closer, Engurrand could see the remains of another man in the goo pile.

“Heh, got really worried that that host was gonna be the end of this run!” Orfeo gestured to the goo pile. The doctor only sighed.

“So, what is it this time?” He slowly closed his book. The ritual would just have to wait a little longer. He knew he was the more patient of the two anyway. Orfeo picked up the helmet, and awkwardly tried to put it on.

“Come with me. I’ve been formulating an escape plan for weeks, and it’s time to go! It’ll work even better now that I have guns!”

Once again, he sighed. He didn’t like that this meant he had wasted space in his journal, but escape was escape. Plus Orfeo could come too. Orfeo hadn’t been close enough to include him if he did the ritual, but if he went with him…

“So, how does it start?” The doctor asked, Orfeo, having finally given up on the helmet, gestured to the silent, more dead than alive guard still lying on the ground. He could barely stand to see him suffer. Orfeo seemed to have somewhat similar views.

“That poor soul’s sick, isn’t he? Help out this poor, suffering man.” He asked, his once smiling mask a frown. He sighed.

“I do not sense the pestilence in this man.” Orfeo looked… frustrated. Even with only two facial expressions, he was somewhat easy to read. His body, whichever it was, would be moved by his mind, leading to his body movements being exaggerated.

“He-”

“Let’s just go.” Orfeo, clearly tired, sighed and went off, signalling Enguerrand to follow.

“Esther, do you really think a table is going to save you?”

“I don’t know Vale, is anything going to save me!?”

Esther Hepburn was curled up in a ball, hiding under the table in their office. Standing next to her table was an unimpressed Dr. Vale Eldridge. Being her assistant could be a… stressful job, especially when a containment breach of a sadistic, telepathic, and very manipulative asshole was going on. Vale’s strategy was simply to stay in one room and hope for the best, meaning the two were locked in the office and Vale had the key. Neither of them seemed interested in going out there anyway.

“How long have you been working here anyway?” Esther asked. She had only been here for a year and a half, but Vale…

“10 years or so. Never occurred to me to count.”

Vale wasn’t good with answering questions. It was almost never a straight answer with her. It frustrated Esther to no end.

“So, how long do you think we have?” She didn’t even know why she was still asking her questions.

“10, 9…” She trailed off.

“Not funny.”

“I tried,” she said, “if we’re gonna die, we might as well have high spirits.”

“Are we sure? Wouldn’t 035 wanna crush those high spirits and be more likely to come for us? Wait, if we were scared we’d be easier to manipulate-” Esther started to panic, not sure what emotion would let them live. She hadn’t been that familiar with the mask, but she was still worried.

Suddenly, Vale also climbed under the table.

“Look, I’m not a words person, but panicking isn’t gonna help.”

“Uh, thanks?” Esther gave an awkward smile.

And then there was silence. Just Esther and Vale, hiding under the table. Esther parallized with fear, Vale… it was hard to read her. Vale always wore a face mask. Everytime Esther asked why, there would be a different answer. Apparently the “true answer” or whatever was burn marks, but that brought up the question of what the heck happened to her.

It didn’t matter. It was only them in there anyway, and Esther didn’t mind. Just them, waiting for something to break the silence.

And something did. An announcement, loud and bold, almost knocking Esther off her seat. Vale didn’t bat an eye. Even when the announcer said what happened, she didn’t move. Did not allow herself to show any form of surprise, worry, or even some kind of “I knew this would happen”.

“035 has broken 049 out of it’s cell. Please remain calm, as we get this breach under control.”

“Is it really that surprising it wanted to do that, considering the amount of times that little shit broke in there?” Vale sighed.

“Look, the announcement was… very loud, and it startled me!”

“Oh, sorry, I should've known.”

Vale had her faults, but she could still be a very understanding person.

It was silent again. They weren’t even looking at each other. The office they were in was rather far away from 049’s cell, so they were probably safe. But there was no predictably in this world, was there?

As an example, Vale suddenly got up from underneath the table.

“Wha-”

“Esther, please stay here!” She shouted, before unlocking the door and running out of the room.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing!?” Esther got up after her, and ran to the door.

She locked it behind her. Shit.

Oh gosh, what was she supposed to do? Her friend could get hurt, or worse, or die, who knows? But then again, was she even safe in there with her? Who could say?

“You do know where we’re going, right?” The doctor asked.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how they made it this far. They were still somehow making their way through the site, he was somehow not currently being led back to his cell, Orfeo’s host had somehow not been pumped with lead… he didn’t even think they ran into anyone so far. He couldn’t help but wonder…

“What? Of course we’re going the right way, how in my own name would I not know the right way, I can literally read minds why the fuck would I not know the right way?”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Come on, my darling raven, you can trust me!” He was now frowning. The doctor had to fight the urge to laugh, it was just… the way he said it.

“Alright then, what am I thinking now?” If his face was still visible, you could tell he was smiling. He was still tired, still just a little worried, and even a little mad, but this right here… it was nice.

“You’re… still a bit anxious that I somehow took a wrong turn somewhere since there’s no one here, haven’t slept in… holy shit are you okay, and you like talking to me!” Orfeo was smiling again.

“Well, yeah.”

“Aw, don’t worry! Simple manipulation on my part, everyone’s just hiding! There are many benefits for having telepathy. What, are you afraid someone’s gonna pop up and say boo?”

“Look, it’s just, we haven’t run into anyone, it just feels so empty.” He knew he sounded like an idiot, being anxious over nothing.

“Don’t worry, silly docky wocky,”

“You know I do not like being called that.” He glared. Orfeo only laughed.

“Come on, just relax for once! No one is-”

That’s when they heard the sound of footsteps coming from across the hall. 8 people.

“I think they went this way!”

The doctor looked at his now worried companion.

“Run.”

Esther was now kicking the door. She knew it wasn’t that professional, but she didn’t exactly have many options here.

“HEY, WAIT, VALE, WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING, WHERE, WHY ARE YOU,”

“Huh, who are you? And are you okay?”

Oh thank god, someone was out there. It wasn’t Vale, it was a man, with a deep, tired voice.

“Oh, thank goodness, I’m Esther, Vale’s appearance. She ran off for whatever reason, and she locked me in here-”

“Vale ran off?”

“I don’t know why, but she just… left.” A faint sigh could be heard behind the door.

“Gosh darnit Vale, don’t tell me you’re trying to be some kind of hero, aren’t you?” The man mumbled. There was something else, but Esther couldn’t quite make out what it was, and wasn’t that worried about whatever it was.

“Look, I don’t understand why she would-”

Suddenly, Esther could hear footsteps coming to the door.

“Sorry about that.” Said a familiar voice. She could hear a faint gasp come from the man, as the footsteps stopped.

Vale… was back.

“Vale, what the hell-”

“Don’t worry, I am fine. I just don’t feel safe saying what happened, with this stranger here.”

Maybe she was just a newbie, but Esther thought that wasn’t a normal sentence. What the hell happened out there?

Vale unlocked the door, revealing the man to be a scientist with cold, grey eyes, standing with perfect posture.

“Is it okay if I come in too? I know you don’t trust me, but,”

“Well, who are you, and why are you out here? I’ll let you in if you tell me and I believe you.” Vale interrupted the man.

“Oh, well, I’m Dr. Mcginnis, I had been in the restroom during the breach, and, well, I didn’t exactly think that was the most safe space to hide. I’ve been trying to be let in by other scientists, but no one seems to believe me.”

Vale walked in, sighing and reluctantly letting the man in behind her.

“Vale, what is wrong with you, just leaving like that?” Esther asked, barely able to keep her voice down. She had left, worrying her to no end… for no reason?!

“Look, what am I supposed to tell you!? I still don’t trust this guy.”

Was Vale okay?

“Look, Vale-”

“Stop worrying about nothing Esther. I have my reasons and you know that.” Vale gave her a look. A “please stop talking” look.

Dr. Mcginnis, meanwhile, just sat in a chair and remained silent. He wasn’t even acknowledging the two girls.

They were alone.

“Hey, this door’s unlocked!” Orfeo smiled, holding open an office door.

“Wait, what?” Enguerrand froze. What was Orfeo getting at?

“Let’s hide in here, they’d never expect us to hide in here!” Orfeo was already walking in the room anyway. Enguerrand sighed and followed him into the room.

“...Wait.”

“What-”

“Shit.”

“Orfeo, this better-”

“If they do search here, we wouldn’t have a way to escape.”

“...Orfeo”

“Yes Enguerrand?”

“Why? Didn't you consider that already?”

“Look, I was panicking, could you keep it down? I don’t want them hearing us!”

And just like that, it was silent again. He may have become a sitting duck, but there was one thing his companion didn’t know. He had a backup plan. Slowly, he took his book and a pencil out of his bag.

“You two seem nice.”

The silence in the office was now broken. Dr. Mcginnis simply said four words, and the two girls froze.

“Uh, thanks?” Said Vale.

“You know, there’s no reason to fear that mask. I don’t want you to be caught on the wrong side of the battle.” What in the…

“Did you… not read his document, or,” Esther was trying to rationalize whatever this guy was talking about. There’s… there’s no way they actually were defending this guy.

“Are you mindless?” Vale asked, reaching into her pocket.

“Listen, I was talking to them earlier-”

The sound of a gunshot interrupted the man. Blood and brain matter lay on the ground where his head should be. Terrified, Esther looked over to see Vale, holding the gun.

“What-”

“Well, why did you think I left? Couldn’t have him being suspicious of me, that’s why I didn’t tell you.” Vale seemed more confused by Esther’s fear than anything.

“What, where did you get the gun?”

“I found it.”

“WHERE DID YOU FIND IT”

“On the ground.” Esther sighed, she wasn’t getting an actual answer, was she.

“You. You just killed someone.”

“It was a mercy kill, after what happened to him.” It didn’t matter what Vale said, Esther already had the horror of that set in. Holy hell, she just killed someone.

“You still killed Dr. Mcginnis.”

“He was brainwashed to the point of no return.”

“YOU JUST SHOT SOMEONE IN THE HEAD AND YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT!?” Vale simply blinked.

“On the gods, you can tell you’re new here.”

Father, can you hear this?. I’m trapped. Someone’s captured me, and I don’t know why. I request your help. I cannot stay here, it interferes with the mission. No human is talking to me anymore. I have been alone here for quite some time, unable to continue my work, so could you please come take me away? I’d prefer if it was quiet, they do not understand me, and I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.. Oh, and could you bring Orfeo as well? He’s my husband, you’ll know him when you see him.

Even if no one could see it, he was smirking. He ripped the page out of the journal. It didn’t matter, there were always more pages.

“What are you-” Orfeo started.

Enguerrand took a quill from his bag. It was made from a feather from a crow’s wing, and not any traditional crow.

He circled the words, the letter to his father. Orfeo, clearly lacking any understanding of what was going on, jumped back.

The letter erupted in blue flames, as Enguerrand began to laugh. The room itself also began to burn, with the same flames, as the letter vanished. Enguerrand put everything back in his bag, he had done this before, he wanted to make sure he had everything. Orfeo, panicking, ran to hug his husband.

“MY DARLING RAVEN, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!?” He screamed.

“Relax dear.”

“WHAT ARE YOU- HOW LONG COULD YOU DO THAT!?”

“What happened to being quiet?”

And then the flames vanished. And they were in a far, far different room, Orfeo still clinging to the doctor. He was frowning, and seemed rather spooked by what had just happened.

“What… how did I not know you could-”

“Relax, you are merely the 7th person to learn about that.”

“What- how. I can, I can literally read minds how did I not-”

“Ahem.”

They were not alone, of course. His father would have to be there too. They both turned to see a figure holding the paper, Venetian mask over his yellow eyes. Father.

“Is… that the black lord-” The figure started.

“It’s a long story.” He sighed. He already knew the questions with Orfeo’s many… titles, with him not exactly having the best. But he had grown from that. He knew he had.

“Enguerrand, sweetie? Why can’t I read this guy’s mind? Who the hell is he?” Orfeo refused to let go. Both him and his father chuckled to themselves.

“What, did you just laugh in unison!? Who are you people!?” His father looked confused, and almost offended by this remark.

“Huh? You, you don’t know who I am? I, I thought you would- you, aren’t you-” He father had put on a smile. A ‘you’re joking’ smile. Orfeo, meanwhile, suddenly went back to a smile themself.

“Depends, how funny are you? I’ve seen a lot of dummies, so you might just have to remind me who the fuck you are.”

“Orfeo, don’t-”

“He already clearly hates me, what do I have to lose?”

His father merely sighed, mumbling something to themself.

“Is he always like this?” He asked.

“Orfeo’s nicer once you get to know him.”

“I, listen, Black Lord of Alagadda. I am the youngest of the three brothers, the one who comes for those who die alone, or of sickness, and this is my adoptive child.” He gestured to the doctor. Orfeo seemed confused again.

“I- what, how, I, I think I, what,”

It was about an hour later. The breach was over. The two anomalies had apparently just… disappeared. They entered an empty office, the security cameras picked up 049 taking out a black feather quill… and then they cut out. Audio recorders also cut out, but ones outside the room picked up faint sounds of fire. And then they disappeared, not a trace of them anywhere, or even signs of a fire…

“What has it been, an hour? Give it another hour or so, some zombie’s gonna pop up somewhere, boom, there we go, we found them.” Vale rolled her eyes.

The two of them were being interviewed over Vale’s… mercy kill. They had just been briefed on what happened during the breach, and Vale was unfazed by anything the interviewer said.

“Look, that’s not important. Why did you get the gun?” He sighed. This, of all things, seemed to confuse her partner.

“I thought your security cameras-”

“We know, we saw you pick it off that guard’s corpse. Why would you do that?”

“I’m not that good with physical combat, but I just… had a bad feeling, okay?” Esther started feeling uncomfortable.

“Do I… have to be here for this, or,” She started, as Vale clearly began looking more uncomfortable.

“Dr. Eldridge, if you just stayed in the room, everything would have been fine-”

“I’m not omnipresent! Where you even in the site- I was fucking terrified!”

“So you ran out of-”

“I wasn’t scared for myself! I-I wanted to protect Esther! I wasn’t thinking clearly- you try to think clearly when a guy with, like, death hands and a telepathic master-manipulator are running amok!” Vale stood up. Esther sweated, not sure what she was supposed to even be doing, or why she was here.

“I, uh, she didn’t say anything-” Esther started, before being interrupted.

“Vale, how did you know there would be a spare gun lying around?”

“I- like I said, I was panicking! I was gonna grab whatever I could-”

“Thank you Vale, that will be all for today.”

“How were you not fired!?” Esther asked in a somewhat lighthearted way, doubting she was going to get anything resembling an answer. Though surprising, what happened could count as one.

“I’m too useful. It’s rare they get anyone who can be a doctor for anomalies. Though, I’m far more stable than most employees here anyway.”

Huh, I guess she can answer questions, even if she was a jerk about it.

“What do you mean you’re more stable?”

“You’ll either find out yourself or die.”

“Asshole!” She said, somewhat jokingly. They knew each other for a year, Esther could say that.

“Heh, could always be worse. Do you know how close me and my little sister were to dying when I was 12?”

Vale’s little sister. She never gave her a name, but that didn’t mean Esther knew nothing about this person. She was two years younger than Vale, and while she was friendly, the two hadn’t seen each other in a while. Vale also mentioned once that she started wearing the mask at 12, which didn’t exactly give Esther the best hopes for where Vale would take this, in the event she elaborated.

“What… what do you mean-”

“It’s complicated. But hey, I’m out of there, I’m having a way better time. And hey, there are some much worse people here than me. You’ve heard of Clef?” Esther shuttered. While the two of them were often moved between different sites, Esther never actually saw him, and only had heard of him, an unpredictable man. He had done worse than shooting a hypnotised man in the face, and some weren’t sure if he was human. At least, that’s what she thought. The main description she ever got of him was when someone would complain about a decision the higher ups made, only for someone to reply “well they hired Clef.”

“...Yes.” Esther replied.

“Okay, good. Anyways, I think I have a theory on where those two went.”

“You do? How, you just heard the description on how the breach went!?” Esther would be lying to herself if she said that Vale never did anything this weird. But now… she just couldn’t shake the feeling of there being something… more with what had happened.

“Okay, yeah, it needs some polish,” Vale admitted, “but I think I can make it work!”

“What kind of theory is it?” Esther asked. How could Vale come up with something like this so quickly?

“I still need to think it over, okay?”

And then she walked off.

“Hey, Vale, wait-” Esther wasn’t really enjoying this new trend of Vale just… leaving her, without an explanation as to why.

“Vale, listen-”

“Look, Esther, sorry, I’m just under a lot of stress right now.” Vale stopped walking, and turned back to her.

“Vale, you’re a doctor, this isn’t in your field.” Esther tried to confront her.

“Look, Esther, I just, you don’t understand. The day’s over, go home and rest, ok?”

“What about you Vale?” Esther hoped this question would pierce her armor.

“...I’ll go home, okay? I just… have to work a bit before I can rest, I’m the doctor, I have more work to do.”

And Vale continued to run.

8 notes · View notes