SUBFOLDER: HEAVENLY HUMANITY

This is a blog for SCP OCs. 18+ They are a mostly-successful experiment. Nothing more.

[sfheavenlyhumanity]

Welcome to Subfolder:Heavenly Humanity These three are part of a mostly-successful experiment. They are not successful. They did not retain their divine characteristics past year 5. All the same, they are nothing less then perfect soldiers.

"HEY. I WANTED TO PICK OUT THE PICTURE." "No I got us this computer I get to pick the images-"

"RABBIT GET YOUR HANDS OFF- Goddamnit." "Hah. It's set now."

"Fuck you."

IMPORTANT INFO AND LORE UNDER THE CUT.

All 3 of them are 21 at the time of the breach. If you want to interact with them beforehand, just say so in your ask.

again. STRICTLY 18+.

They are HIGHLY TRAINED SOLDIERS. Do not expect them to be kind.

I'm.... still working on actual refs for all of their armor sets.

There were 10 are 3. Cats Cradle, Rabbits Foot, and Deaths Door.

Cats Cradle is the leader, and generally is only interested in capture/retrieve missions. Rabbits Foot is the scout and generally regarded as the smartest. Deaths Door takes out threats to the SCP organization, or anyone that he's told to.

Pronouns or whatever are as follows:

CC:It/Its

DD:All of them. Generally prefers she/her and he/him though.

RF:Also. All of them. Prefers it/its.

Important info!!

RF is blind and mute. It relies entirely on severe light/dark differences without its helmet+backpack, and has a ping/liDar system when it has the set on. She does know ASL, and has a TTS box on the right wrist of her armorset. Rarely uses either.

All 3 of them have a psychic link kind of thing. Allows them to call for each other, generally talk without anyone.. knowing, and for Cradle to 'discipline' the other two.

They're in an incest polycule. this isn't important i just want to put it out there.

(thank u @voice-o-fallacy for helping with the name. <:3)

[sfheavenlyhumanity]

Just let me train.

TWs:

-Self-injury, unintentional

-Physical restraint

RECURRING CHARACTERS:

-Charles

-Trainer

-Deaths Door/c-001

Up. Down. Dodge. Strike. Strike. Strike. Strike.

The trainer was annoying. He needed to shut up.

Dodge. Dodge. Strike. Left. Left. Dodge. Strike. Strike. Strike.

“C-001. Lay down your weapon, or we will be forced to- Is she even listening?”

No. She wasn’t. Why would he. They never said anything of use.

“Charles, get the damn ketchall, she’s not going to stop.”

Strike. Strike. Strike. There was blood on her knuckles. There wasn’t an option to just… stop. It wasn’t possible. Their arms hurt.

“Kht-”

“I told you that putting her through that surgery was a bad idea.”

“And you were right. Too late to un-do it, though.”

They were just talking. Like he wasn’t right there. He wasn’t some useless entity.

“Ope- Shes grabbing at the pole, should I-”

“Just try and hold her still.

“Alright..”

The wire burnt. It hurt. Why couldn’t they just let him train? That's what they wanted, wasn’t it? It was trying to learn. She was trying to figure out what they wanted.

They grabbed onto his hand. Their hands were cold.

“Can you send a request to the medteam? Looks like a couple of bones are fractured, if that noise is anything to go off of- HEY.”

Damnit. They moved just out of range of his bite.

“It doesn’t matter what you are, you do NOT bite people.”

An eye for an eye. They touched her hands. Her hands hurt. So, he would make them hurt.

“I will do as I please.”

The Trainer stood back up, shaking their head. Cradle would say they looked like an angel. Door would say he looked like a target.

“Just make sure the medteam fixes her up, alright, Charles?”

“Yessir.”

[sfheavenlyhumanity]

She was wearing the halo of a dead cherub.

TWS:

-Child abuse

-Vomit

-Religious delusions

-Mention of drugging, related to first tw.

Recurring Characters involved:

Cats Cradle/C-003

Her/The Caretaker

Charles

The Archangel/ The Janitor

The light of the active labs was painfully bright, it was always painfully bright, it was worse today, tonight, it was worse. It was always worse, it never got better, it hurt.

“Subject C-003, answer the question.”

The question? They had asked a question? No, they didn’t, they were lying, they had to be. They always lied. They never lied. They were bastions of truth, wielding a burning sword to banish or kill the impure, the unfaithful.

She sighed above it, lights framing her head in a halo. She wasn’t an angel. She was too uncaring to be an angel. She had to be something higher. Was she a Virtue? A Power? No. Something else. Something worse. The shadows were creeping in in the edges of its vision. Why was it here?

“Subject C-003, how were you able to escape your cell.”

The cell? There was no cell. There was a cradle and it was the maker.

“God damnit Charles, how hard did you hit the damn thing?”

“Regular tranq dose, ma’am.”

“... The dose for C-001, or the dose for this one?” 

She had to be a demon. There were horns on her head, the halo was broken. What had she done? She had hurt it. No kind God would do that. It would be a kind god. It was a kind god. It needed to be.

“What the hell was the kid calling himself again? I told you it was a mistake giving the lot anything outside of the requirements.”

“Cats Cradle, Ma’am. Got it from the string game-”

“I know where its from. Thank you.”

The taste of bile was familiar. It knew the taste of bile. A signifier that the God in Heaven was trying to speak to it, and that She wasn’t letting Him. It hated Her. It hated everything She did.

No. No it didn’t hate her. She just needed to see the error of her ways.

… There was vomit on the floor. Its mouth tasted of the very same. Did it throw up? It didn’t remember doing that. She just needed to let God talk to it.

“Look, it threw up. I told you, you need to pay attention to the dosages- Christ, just go get a janitor.”

The janitor was kind. It liked the janitor. The janitor was definitely an archangel.

“Hey, Cradle. I know you just threw up, but we really need to know how you got out of the cell, okay sweetie?”

Her tone scared it. It knew She wanted to hurt all of them. That it hated them.

“Unlocked.”

Her jaw clenched. It needed to move. To get away. It couldn’t. Was it restrained? It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

“.... Get back to your cell.”

It tried. It really tried to move. Its limbs didn’t respond. It couldn’t move. The shapes that made Her got sharper. She was getting closer.

“I said, get back to your cell.”

“...Can’t.”

It braced. It knew something was going to happen. Something.

“Ey, miss, you know those tranqs leave the big’uns paralyzed, let alone a littl’un like that. I can bring ‘im back after I finish cleanin, if ya’d like.”

“Fine. But be quick- I don’t want my lab reeking of that failures vomit.”

“Yeah, don’ even worry about it.”

It couldn’t stay awake. The lab was fading out. It didn’t want to be here.

At least one of its archangels was here.