gravewormgod
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“You know… It ain’t that late yet, and Tommy don’t go to sleep all that early. Thinkin’ you’d like to give that to him yourself instead of puttin’ it down and runnin’ off?”
After weeks of leaving frequent gifts at Tommy’s window under the cover of night, Luda Mae finally spots you while having a late-night cigarette on the porch. Once she convinces you two to meet face to face, you follow him inside and he shows you where he works.
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The doctor’s gloved fingers lift your chin, tilting your face upward with a touch both clinical and unnervingly intimate.
“Your pulse is weak...” he murmurs, “Yet there is a softness to you that the Pestilence envies.”
You want to pull away, to break the suffocating proximity, but something in his gaze pins you in place. It’s not just authority. It’s an obsession, an aching need to know you. To have you. To possess you.
“Kindness is not my trade.” he continues, and the honesty is almost kinder than a lie. “Care is. Protection is. I intend to keep you from the Pestilence as long as it pleases me. Whether that is kindness depends on the patience of time and the constitution of your heart.”
He looks at you with the single-mindedness of someone who catalogues organisms by their capacity to survive and by the fissures they leave in the world. You want to pull back. You want to run; you have to run. But when he leans closer - so close you can feel the faint, medicinal scent of vinegar and lavender radiating from him - and speaks your name, something in your chest unclenches.
“Physician...” he whispers, brushing a thumb lovingly along the curve of your cheek. “Stay with me. Please."
Bookmarked by gravewormgod
25 Apr 2026
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Frank Iero lives in Santa Cecilia, a city run by vampires. All he really wants to do is just stay alive, play guitar, and not feel quite so persecuted. But when the people close to him have been lying about being vampires, and when werewolves are no longer creatures of legend, suddenly the whole world is at his throat. And it's going straight for his carotid artery.
Bookmarked by gravewormgod
18 Apr 2026
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People I Don't Like by StrawberryThieves
Fandoms: SCP Foundation, SCP - Containment Breach
02 Apr 2026
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The interior of site 19 was horror disguised as cleanliness, hiding behind printer paper and vanilla files. All you had to do was get through the day. Drink too much caffeine, scarf down the mystery protein from the cafeteria, file stacks of paperwork longer than your arms... and survive a containment breach with psychopathic porcelain mask.
OR, 035 keeps trying to get in your pants, and you're tired of dealing with it on top of everything else.
Bookmarked by gravewormgod
06 Apr 2026
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It raised a gloved hand toward your face, and you froze in pure animal terror. You were going to die. Considering your place of employment, it wasn’t a surprise it would end this way.
The hand hovered inches from your face. The SCP had paused, its fingers almost touching your cheek, and then it changed course. It brushed the loose strands of hair from your face.
It touched you. The smooth leather of its glove grazed your temple, putting the hairs back in place behind your ear. It was a light touch, barely there, but more than enough to kill you.
And yet, you still breathed.
Series
- Part 1 of The Doctor's Ode
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 138,491
- Chapters:
- 55/55
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- 4
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Bookmarked by gravewormgod
30 Mar 2026
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En·am·or - verb; be filled with a feeling of love for, or, affected by strong feelings of love, admiration, or fascination.
In which an artist who is slowly affected by burnout, looks for new inspiration on the internet. Soon after, she discovers that her art pieces don't exactly like sticking to their canvas...
Bookmarked by gravewormgod
24 Mar 2026