welcome to my sprawlings :3
here's some random ass writings of mine. They're usually heavily inspired by stuff from the scp wiki, cause that's mostly what i read. That and math books, but im not gonna start going off about linear congruences or whatever in my stories
the titles that are in green are shitposts or jokes.
An endless short exchange
An unmarked small car steadily drives down a long dirt road leading up to a large farmhouse. It pulls up to the porch, and a man of medium stature gets out. Everything about him is unremarkable, his face strangely forgettable.
He walks up to the door of the house and pulls his hand to ring the doorbell. He hesitates for a second. He hears a loud click, only audible to him. He does not react, as if he has heard it a thousand times.
He rings the doorbell.
A large woman in a plaid t-shirt and jeans answers the door and looks down at the man. "I’m looking for a Mr. Prind?" the man states, with a polite and lightly questionative tone. "I'll go get him right now" the woman responds.
"Hello, I'm Sebastian Prind, the head of this household. May I ask what this is about?"
“Hello, I’m with the guild and- “
Mr. Prind’s face dropped, his eyebrows slightly furled. The man at the door decided to continue speaking.
“We have noticed you have been withholding a docum-”
“Are you one of those inhuman things they send out to do their dirty work?” Mr. Prind snaps.
“I don’t believe that’s-”
“How many times have we had this conversation already?”
“that’s not-”
“Never speak to me or my family ever again, not that you won’t try,” he says spitefully, slamming the door.
The nameless man sighs, mentally remarking how it could’ve gone better. He’ll try again next loop. He turns around, and his vision goes black.
He rings the doorbell.
A large woman in a plaid t-shirt and jeans answers the door and looks down at the man. "I’m looking for a Mr. Prind?" the man states, with a polite and lightly questionative tone. "I'll go get him right now" the woman responds.
The end of a short exchange
“Just take them. This stays between us” Mr. Prind scowled. He bent over to the side, taking some keys out of his pocket and swiftly unlocking a safe to the side the man hadn’t noticed before. He shoved the papers into the man’s hands, right before unceremoniously slamming the door.
The man turns around, sighed, and walked back to his car.
When will command realize it’s a lot harder to convince people that absolutely hate you, He thought. Blackmailing people with only what you get through conversation is a lot harder than they think.
He enteres his car and drives off.
A couple hours later, he is still on the road. An inky black night has fallen, only the occasional streetlight illuminates the dark roads. The man’s eyes are attentively set on the road ahead. A car ahead swerves, breaching its lane, just in front of the man’s car. Steel on steel collide in two opposite forces, and the only thing the man sees in that hundredth of a second was the top of the other car, the concrete, and what little life he has flashing before his eyes. His vision goes black.
He did not ring the doorbell.
He stumbles backwards, landing hard against the railing and falling to the deck. His eyes grow wide and his breathing fast. His mind is speeding up, throwing around thoughts as fast as it can. Within this whirlwind, one question persisted: what just happened? His stomach lurches. In just enough time he pulls himself up to the railing for the contents of his stomach to empty over it. He collapses again, in the corner of the porch. He knows the answer to his question, but he still asks. The door to the house opened.
“Are you alright honey? You look distraught” Mrs. Prind asked.
They are watching, he reminded himself.
He stood up and dusted himself off.
You still have work to do. his vision goes black.
Molded Perception
(i made this one a bit overly complex, sorry about that. i smashed together like 5 different ideas here.)
In the middle of a busy city, a man walks up to his destination: a barren parking lot, void of people, like a hole in reality. He looks up, and he sees what the hundreds that pass by every day doesn’t; a fortress of concrete and metal, both constructed and yet not. The very ground bends to accommodate the structure of the fortress, as if it always had. In the middle, a figure sits upon a nonexistent throne. Around him the air bends and warps, as if trying to tear itself apart. The figure looks down upon the surrounding terrain with a slight smirk, knowing that the unaware people around the fortress play a bigger role in making it than he does.
The man raised his arm in front of him and held down a button on his watch. Black structures raised out of the ground around the parking lot. The figure in the middle jumped, but quickly regained composure. He extended his arm and made the concept of the pillars protect him.
The man let go of the button on his watch. In an instant, the area turned to an inky black void. The only things that existed here was the man and the figure. The man’s watch clicked, counting down from 10. The figure fell to the ground, no longer elevated by his throne. The man swiftly swooped to the figure and put a previously concealed metallic headband on him. The figure fell limp. The watch hit 0, and the world returned.
(also sidenote how did i fucking manage to only start sentences with the word "The" in the third paragraph, i knew it read a lil funky.)
die a log
“Here, take a seat.”
“no, I don’t want to see my face.”
“why, isn’t there nothing wrong here?”
“no, there is.”
“well, I guess.”
“So, have you been to anything sweet today”
"I see you you know”
“well, in which case?”
“the one yesterday!”
“well, that isn’t much, is it.”
“well what about it?”
“about when?”
“as with before, yesterday.”
“I thought it was tomorrow?”
“that’s up to me.”
“what about you?”
"just before yesterday."
"ah. the one with the pretty flowers?"
"good."
The Horde Approaches
a lone commander walks down a long ruined concrete corridor. his steps are slow in rhythm. his eyes are darting around, scanning the area in front of him. “Control, do you copy?”
“We copy.”
“My team was just jumped by the horde. All team members are MIA.”
“Copy that.”
He looks forward and takes a couple paces.
Silently but gradually, there was a skittering in the walls. the very earth began to tremble as the sound increases. The commander stops. The small piece in his ear speaks.
“We’ve got multiple reports of a type pink horde near your location.”
He stops. he knows it’s too late already. He takes a couple steps backwards, and his eyes widen as the concrete of the ceiling in front of him cracks and gives way.
“Oh god…”
the concrete ceiling crumples down, and in the dust multiple humanoid figures appear. rising up from the dust, a massive group slowly recovers from the rubble and takes a couple steps forward.
“No… It couldn’t be…”
As the dust settles the figures become more distinct, more detail becomes visible. They worn short clothing and moved in an irregular fashion. One steps out of the dust cloud. It has Pink braided hair.
“…The femboys”
At that moment, they swarmed. Their shrill calls filled the cavern. “uwu skwee” is one of many barely discernible voices.
As the commander was sitting there, being half smothered to death, he had a lone thought. “maybe this isn’t so bad.” He had dedicated his life to serving against them, but they didn’t seem all to terrible. “Maybe life would be better among them.” He recognizes his former companions among the crowd. “maybe, just maybe, i can be with them instead.”
A small earpiece sits on the concrete ground. A small voice squeaks from it. “Theta 10, respond. I repeat, Theta 10, respond.” the man in the earpiece sighs. “damn it, we lost another one.”
E is for eternity
(based off the scip of the same name, SCP-7179)
E is for eternity, you see
N is for unending life, for me
D is for the death that sup-ercedes,
L is for the life I held highly,
E is for the end I’ll never see
S, is for the everlasting sea
S, is for my dwindling sanity.
(also the line in 7179 "10^100 factorial years: One second of eterniy has passed." goes hard as FUCK)