my chud selfship rp blog

SCP-106 AND SCP-106-B ASK/RP BLOG. STUPID ASS OC BULLSHIT. pfp by oomf (wishes to stay anonymous)

[theoldmansprey]

BULLSHIT ASS BLOG LETS FUCKING GO

two fuckin chuds played by one person. the old man and his prey.

(art by @/kykuryz)

[cruel-hiraeth]

call him bubonic the way he plagues me

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.

[hotheadedbird]

"How cooperative of you."

█████ smiled at him, leaning back against his chair. He found amusement in the old man's sense of humor, not expecting him to have any in the first place. Then again, the old man never spoke before this encounter.

"I'm delighted that you're not taking their stories to heart. You know how humans can be, so eager to attach a story to everything they don't understand."

His musings were followed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He eyed the old man once more, curiously asking.

"Are they aware of your absence?"

[theoldmansprey]

It seems that amused The Old Man. His permanent, agonizing smile seemed to widen a little.

Oh, I don't care about the musings of some worthless fodder. He clarified.

It's not like they can do much to me, anyway. I'm just an old man, after all. The corpse let out another wet chuckle, similar to before. He was more than "just an old man", and he knew very well his own sadistic capabilities. Yet he feigned innocence, finding it ironic to do so.

Having no pockets, he'd placed his putrid hands on his hips, leaning forward as he continued staring at Dr. █████. His dogtag swung in the air, hitting his chest before it eventually just dangled in the air.

As for my absence... He deliberately trailed off. They both knew The Foundation wouldn't willingly let something as dangerous as SCP-106 roam freely.

You wouldn't tattle on an old man, would you, lad?

[hotheadedbird]

"Do you take me as someone who would, Corporal?"

His hands idly messed with the wine bottle placed atop the table before him, popping the already opened bottle effortlessly before pouring a small amount into a nearby glass.

Bringing the glass up to his lips, he took a sip. His red gaze not leaving the old man that remained in his walls.

[theoldmansprey]

Lawrence paused for a second. Then, he closed his eyes, letting out a gurgle of sorts, meant to be a sigh.

I'd hope you'd be different from the rest of these buggers. He admitted.

Then, he took a step forward. Not close enough to touch the table, but a little closer than before.

You seem like a good man, Doctor. You entertain my favorite prey. And so does that red-haired lad. He sounded almost fond, like he was genuinely happy.

I think we'll get along just fine. But before you decide you've had enough of my stench, is there anything you'd like to ask an old codger?

[hotheadedbird]

"That 'prey' of yours is quite skilled. I hope he keeps it up.. Who knows, the foundation might make use of his artistic skills down the road. I'm not surprised he got well acquainted with my dearest 'Dove'."

The wine glistened beneath the light, the liquid swirled along the glass the further he spun it.

"Tell me, Lawrence.."

He trailed off, pausing the movements of his glass abruptly. The red liquid splashing violently before eventually settling down at the bottom. Through the liquid, a clearer picture of Lawrence could be seen.

"...How deep does it run. The hatred for your captors?"

[theoldmansprey]

The Old Man went still, yet he continued to smile. His face couldn't really do anything else but grin.

They will not lay a finger on a single whisker on his little head. He practically growled it. It was jarring, to say the least. But he calmed himself down, continuing to make that disgusting breathing noise he did.

He thought about the question for a second. It didn't anger him, not like █████'s previous comment. Instead, it almost saddened him. Knowing that the same ones who captured him had hurt his favorite prey once before, and would probably continue to do it again if it wasn't for him lashing out on Raptor's behalf.

They call me things I'm not. It doesn't hurt me. But it hurts Him. And he cries, and cries, and it tears him up inside. He explained.

So I suppose the hatred runs deep. They trapped me in a box, with nothing besides that femur breaker. And when my little tiger came along, they took him from me.

The Corporal straightened his posture, staring down at █████. He was still smiling, as he always did, but there was a disappointed look in his eyes, like a parent.

But you're not them. Right? You're not like the rest of them. Or maybe I'm wrong, and you are like the rest of you Foundation lot. He gritted his teeth. But he still didn't attack. He knew better.

[hotheadedbird]

A frown immediately spread across █████'s lips. His eyes closing in regret. "My sincerest apologies. I wasn't aware you two were... Close." He took a sip from his wine, settling the glass back down onto the table. For a moment he only stared down, pondering the man's words over in his head. The protectiveness he exhibited towards his 'prey' was eerily similar to the one he had towards Phoenix. He thought about the many times he had seen the man break down into tears after every session, how lifeless his orange eyes looked afterwards.. There's not many things that genuinely bothered █████ , but this? It infuriated him to no end to see his dearest in constant pain. "Oh Corporal, I assure you.." He stood up, fading his body into thin air once more, his words said with an amused chuckle. "I am Nothing like them." It didn't take him long to materialize immediately behind the old man. "We two seem to share a common disdain towards the foundation. So, how about we make a deal?"

[theoldmansprey]

Of course you weren't aware. You lot know nothing. He hissed.

He suddenly felt the presence of █████ behind him. He didn't like it. He never liked not being in control. Lawrence's god complex was too big for that. So he sunk into the ground, shortly reappearing in the wall behind █████.

Don't fucking do that. He scolded, much like a disappointed grandparent.

Do that again, and the deal is off. Understand, lad? His brow ridge was visibly irritated, yet he kept smiling. Despite his sudden displeasure, he was oddly still willing to talk.

[hotheadedbird]

"Trust me, Corporal. It won't repeat again.. Now, tell me."

A pause, before he spoke again, his head turning back to where Lawrence was peeking his head out of, a small smile stretched across his lips, an ominous glint in his eyes.

"How eager are you to watch it all burn to the ground?"

[theoldmansprey]

The Old Man's smile widened again. He tilted his head like a dog. He was interested. But there was one problem. His favorite little nuisance.

I'm listening. He purred, almost similar to a feline. Nobody knew how he could even do that. Probably something similar to how he did his death rattle.

They can all die. I don't give a rat's ass. It's just my prey I'm concerned about. The Corporal admitted. In an odd display of his terrifying bodily anatomy, Lawrence's long, black tongue slithered out of his mouth, licking his teeth. He just did it sometimes.

Where would I get food for him, if our little errand boys are all gone? He's very particular about it. I can't just feed him eyeballs, you know.

[cogbreath]

[poikaboo]

{ID - sped up spongebob gif of plankton giving a speech to a group of people. A screen appears behind him saying, "Faggot". The crowd laughs. When he looks at it, it disappears. When he looks back, the text reappears, now with a pointer pointing at him. He looks at it again, when it disappears. Looking away, it reappears in bright carnival-like font, with a colour changing arrow. He looks and looks away again, now irate. The text reappears in an impactful font decorated with stars. Plankton looks again and sees the text this time. He rushes to a plug socket to unplug the screen.

END ID}

[charl0ttan]

i explained the concept of freaking it to my 15,000 year old grandfather and he remained motionless within the glacier

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.

[hotheadedbird]

"How cooperative of you."

█████ smiled at him, leaning back against his chair. He found amusement in the old man's sense of humor, not expecting him to have any in the first place. Then again, the old man never spoke before this encounter.

"I'm delighted that you're not taking their stories to heart. You know how humans can be, so eager to attach a story to everything they don't understand."

His musings were followed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He eyed the old man once more, curiously asking.

"Are they aware of your absence?"

[theoldmansprey]

It seems that amused The Old Man. His permanent, agonizing smile seemed to widen a little.

Oh, I don't care about the musings of some worthless fodder. He clarified.

It's not like they can do much to me, anyway. I'm just an old man, after all. The corpse let out another wet chuckle, similar to before. He was more than "just an old man", and he knew very well his own sadistic capabilities. Yet he feigned innocence, finding it ironic to do so.

Having no pockets, he'd placed his putrid hands on his hips, leaning forward as he continued staring at Dr. █████. His dogtag swung in the air, hitting his chest before it eventually just dangled in the air.

As for my absence... He deliberately trailed off. They both knew The Foundation wouldn't willingly let something as dangerous as SCP-106 roam freely.

You wouldn't tattle on an old man, would you, lad?

[hotheadedbird]

"Do you take me as someone who would, Corporal?"

His hands idly messed with the wine bottle placed atop the table before him, popping the already opened bottle effortlessly before pouring a small amount into a nearby glass.

Bringing the glass up to his lips, he took a sip. His red gaze not leaving the old man that remained in his walls.

[theoldmansprey]

Lawrence paused for a second. Then, he closed his eyes, letting out a gurgle of sorts, meant to be a sigh.

I'd hope you'd be different from the rest of these buggers. He admitted.

Then, he took a step forward. Not close enough to touch the table, but a little closer than before.

You seem like a good man, Doctor. You entertain my favorite prey. And so does that red-haired lad. He sounded almost fond, like he was genuinely happy.

I think we'll get along just fine. But before you decide you've had enough of my stench, is there anything you'd like to ask an old codger?

[hotheadedbird]

"That 'prey' of yours is quite skilled. I hope he keeps it up.. Who knows, the foundation might make use of his artistic skills down the road. I'm not surprised he got well acquainted with my dearest 'Dove'."

The wine glistened beneath the light, the liquid swirled along the glass the further he spun it.

"Tell me, Lawrence.."

He trailed off, pausing the movements of his glass abruptly. The red liquid splashing violently before eventually settling down at the bottom. Through the liquid, a clearer picture of Lawrence could be seen.

"...How deep does it run. The hatred for your captors?"

[theoldmansprey]

The Old Man went still, yet he continued to smile. His face couldn't really do anything else but grin.

They will not lay a finger on a single whisker on his little head. He practically growled it. It was jarring, to say the least. But he calmed himself down, continuing to make that disgusting breathing noise he did.

He thought about the question for a second. It didn't anger him, not like █████'s previous comment. Instead, it almost saddened him. Knowing that the same ones who captured him had hurt his favorite prey once before, and would probably continue to do it again if it wasn't for him lashing out on Raptor's behalf.

They call me things I'm not. It doesn't hurt me. But it hurts Him. And he cries, and cries, and it tears him up inside. He explained.

So I suppose the hatred runs deep. They trapped me in a box, with nothing besides that femur breaker. And when my little tiger came along, they took him from me.

The Corporal straightened his posture, staring down at █████. He was still smiling, as he always did, but there was a disappointed look in his eyes, like a parent.

But you're not them. Right? You're not like the rest of them. Or maybe I'm wrong, and you are like the rest of you Foundation lot. He gritted his teeth. But he still didn't attack. He knew better.

[hotheadedbird]

A frown immediately spread across █████'s lips. His eyes closing in regret. "My sincerest apologies. I wasn't aware you two were... Close." He took a sip from his wine, settling the glass back down onto the table. For a moment he only stared down, pondering the man's words over in his head. The protectiveness he exhibited towards his 'prey' was eerily similar to the one he had towards Phoenix. He thought about the many times he had seen the man break down into tears after every session, how lifeless his orange eyes looked afterwards.. There's not many things that genuinely bothered █████ , but this? It infuriated him to no end to see his dearest in constant pain. "Oh Corporal, I assure you.." He stood up, fading his body into thin air once more, his words said with an amused chuckle. "I am Nothing like them." It didn't take him long to materialize immediately behind the old man. "We two seem to share a common disdain towards the foundation. So, how about we make a deal?"

[theoldmansprey]

Of course you weren't aware. You lot know nothing. He hissed.

He suddenly felt the presence of █████ behind him. He didn't like it. He never liked not being in control. Lawrence's god complex was too big for that. So he sunk into the ground, shortly reappearing in the wall behind █████.

Don't fucking do that. He scolded, much like a disappointed grandparent.

Do that again, and the deal is off. Understand, lad? His brow ridge was visibly irritated, yet he kept smiling. Despite his sudden displeasure, he was oddly still willing to talk.

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.

[hotheadedbird]

"How cooperative of you."

█████ smiled at him, leaning back against his chair. He found amusement in the old man's sense of humor, not expecting him to have any in the first place. Then again, the old man never spoke before this encounter.

"I'm delighted that you're not taking their stories to heart. You know how humans can be, so eager to attach a story to everything they don't understand."

His musings were followed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He eyed the old man once more, curiously asking.

"Are they aware of your absence?"

[theoldmansprey]

It seems that amused The Old Man. His permanent, agonizing smile seemed to widen a little.

Oh, I don't care about the musings of some worthless fodder. He clarified.

It's not like they can do much to me, anyway. I'm just an old man, after all. The corpse let out another wet chuckle, similar to before. He was more than "just an old man", and he knew very well his own sadistic capabilities. Yet he feigned innocence, finding it ironic to do so.

Having no pockets, he'd placed his putrid hands on his hips, leaning forward as he continued staring at Dr. █████. His dogtag swung in the air, hitting his chest before it eventually just dangled in the air.

As for my absence... He deliberately trailed off. They both knew The Foundation wouldn't willingly let something as dangerous as SCP-106 roam freely.

You wouldn't tattle on an old man, would you, lad?

[hotheadedbird]

"Do you take me as someone who would, Corporal?"

His hands idly messed with the wine bottle placed atop the table before him, popping the already opened bottle effortlessly before pouring a small amount into a nearby glass.

Bringing the glass up to his lips, he took a sip. His red gaze not leaving the old man that remained in his walls.

[theoldmansprey]

Lawrence paused for a second. Then, he closed his eyes, letting out a gurgle of sorts, meant to be a sigh.

I'd hope you'd be different from the rest of these buggers. He admitted.

Then, he took a step forward. Not close enough to touch the table, but a little closer than before.

You seem like a good man, Doctor. You entertain my favorite prey. And so does that red-haired lad. He sounded almost fond, like he was genuinely happy.

I think we'll get along just fine. But before you decide you've had enough of my stench, is there anything you'd like to ask an old codger?

[hotheadedbird]

"That 'prey' of yours is quite skilled. I hope he keeps it up.. Who knows, the foundation might make use of his artistic skills down the road. I'm not surprised he got well acquainted with my dearest 'Dove'."

The wine glistened beneath the light, the liquid swirled along the glass the further he spun it.

"Tell me, Lawrence.."

He trailed off, pausing the movements of his glass abruptly. The red liquid splashing violently before eventually settling down at the bottom. Through the liquid, a clearer picture of Lawrence could be seen.

"...How deep does it run. The hatred for your captors?"

[theoldmansprey]

The Old Man went still, yet he continued to smile. His face couldn't really do anything else but grin.

They will not lay a finger on a single whisker on his little head. He practically growled it. It was jarring, to say the least. But he calmed himself down, continuing to make that disgusting breathing noise he did.

He thought about the question for a second. It didn't anger him, not like █████'s previous comment. Instead, it almost saddened him. Knowing that the same ones who captured him had hurt his favorite prey once before, and would probably continue to do it again if it wasn't for him lashing out on Raptor's behalf.

They call me things I'm not. It doesn't hurt me. But it hurts Him. And he cries, and cries, and it tears him up inside. He explained.

So I suppose the hatred runs deep. They trapped me in a box, with nothing besides that femur breaker. And when my little tiger came along, they took him from me.

The Corporal straightened his posture, staring down at █████. He was still smiling, as he always did, but there was a disappointed look in his eyes, like a parent.

But you're not them. Right? You're not like the rest of them. Or maybe I'm wrong, and you are like the rest of you Foundation lot. He gritted his teeth. But he still didn't attack. He knew better.

[actionpainting-deactivated20231]

my nephews lunch that he packed

[funnyforsmile]

[capacity]

Let’s all actually do this

[deadelated]

we all have the homie that's a cautionary tale

[bleed1ngbabyb0y]

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.

[hotheadedbird]

"How cooperative of you."

█████ smiled at him, leaning back against his chair. He found amusement in the old man's sense of humor, not expecting him to have any in the first place. Then again, the old man never spoke before this encounter.

"I'm delighted that you're not taking their stories to heart. You know how humans can be, so eager to attach a story to everything they don't understand."

His musings were followed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He eyed the old man once more, curiously asking.

"Are they aware of your absence?"

[theoldmansprey]

It seems that amused The Old Man. His permanent, agonizing smile seemed to widen a little.

Oh, I don't care about the musings of some worthless fodder. He clarified.

It's not like they can do much to me, anyway. I'm just an old man, after all. The corpse let out another wet chuckle, similar to before. He was more than "just an old man", and he knew very well his own sadistic capabilities. Yet he feigned innocence, finding it ironic to do so.

Having no pockets, he'd placed his putrid hands on his hips, leaning forward as he continued staring at Dr. █████. His dogtag swung in the air, hitting his chest before it eventually just dangled in the air.

As for my absence... He deliberately trailed off. They both knew The Foundation wouldn't willingly let something as dangerous as SCP-106 roam freely.

You wouldn't tattle on an old man, would you, lad?

[hotheadedbird]

"Do you take me as someone who would, Corporal?"

His hands idly messed with the wine bottle placed atop the table before him, popping the already opened bottle effortlessly before pouring a small amount into a nearby glass.

Bringing the glass up to his lips, he took a sip. His red gaze not leaving the old man that remained in his walls.

[theoldmansprey]

Lawrence paused for a second. Then, he closed his eyes, letting out a gurgle of sorts, meant to be a sigh.

I'd hope you'd be different from the rest of these buggers. He admitted.

Then, he took a step forward. Not close enough to touch the table, but a little closer than before.

You seem like a good man, Doctor. You entertain my favorite prey. And so does that red-haired lad. He sounded almost fond, like he was genuinely happy.

I think we'll get along just fine. But before you decide you've had enough of my stench, is there anything you'd like to ask an old codger?

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.

[hotheadedbird]

"How cooperative of you."

█████ smiled at him, leaning back against his chair. He found amusement in the old man's sense of humor, not expecting him to have any in the first place. Then again, the old man never spoke before this encounter.

"I'm delighted that you're not taking their stories to heart. You know how humans can be, so eager to attach a story to everything they don't understand."

His musings were followed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He eyed the old man once more, curiously asking.

"Are they aware of your absence?"

[theoldmansprey]

It seems that amused The Old Man. His permanent, agonizing smile seemed to widen a little.

Oh, I don't care about the musings of some worthless fodder. He clarified.

It's not like they can do much to me, anyway. I'm just an old man, after all. The corpse let out another wet chuckle, similar to before. He was more than "just an old man", and he knew very well his own sadistic capabilities. Yet he feigned innocence, finding it ironic to do so.

Having no pockets, he'd placed his putrid hands on his hips, leaning forward as he continued staring at Dr. █████. His dogtag swung in the air, hitting his chest before it eventually just dangled in the air.

As for my absence... He deliberately trailed off. They both knew The Foundation wouldn't willingly let something as dangerous as SCP-106 roam freely.

You wouldn't tattle on an old man, would you, lad?

[kriemhilde-in-the-castle]

ɢᴀssᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴊᴏʜɴ sɪɴɢᴇʀ sᴀʀɢᴇɴᴛ

[kykuryz]

artblock attacked me so now all i can do is make stupid memes with Lawrence

[stupidpetface]

[hotheadedbird]

Despite his age, the rotting Corporal senses a figure, a being of sorts, nearby. He raises his decayed, clawed hand, smiling at Dr. █████, as he gives him a wave, smiling like he always does.

Do your little scientists even know I can speak? The Old Man speaks with a raspy, gurgling tone. You can see his decayed chest rising, his rusted dogtag resting on his slimy form. His breathing is a foul, terrible "death rattle" of sorts.

His distaste for The Foundation is clear. Yet he doesn't attack. He simply stares, like he always does, with his white, glowing eyeballs focused onto wherever Dr. █████ is standing. He seems passive, almost curious even.

-theoldmansprey 🖤

A curious eyebrow is raised towards the old man. The anomalous doctor slowly materialized in front of him, coming out from the shadows and into the light. A small smile stretched across his own lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Corporal. I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. You may call me ████ █████ , or Doctor.█████ if you fancy something simpler."

He took a seat next to him, taking out a small pen and notepad out of his labcoat pocket, writing something down before stuffing it back into it's place.

"To answer your question though. I don't believe the others are aware of your 'speech' capabilities, If I myself was surprised."

He paused, taking a quick glance at the other chair opposite of him.

"I would invite you to take a seat as well, yet I don't believe the furniture can stomach the acid you bear. Though, I am curious. What brings you here?"

[theoldmansprey]

The rancid old bastard cracked his neck to the side, the gesture making a loud "pop" of sorts. Whether it was his bones, or his decay that made the noise, it was probably best to not know. He let out a little laugh, although it was more of a gurgle than anything.

Just passing through. He says, physically coming out of the wall. He seemed to have a sense of humor, despite his age.

Lawrence didn't sit down. He knew he'd destroy whatever chair was there.

My prey.. He paused, as if racking his vile brain. Enjoys your prey. Thought I'd visit, be a nice bastard for once. There's an unmistakable accent when he says "bastard." His British tone barely comes out these days, as his voice has been damaged by either age or the same mucus that coats his entire being.

But its not like you'd care. I know you Foundation lot. Making up stories about an old man, stressing out my poor boy.

He says the last part with an odd adoration. Despite his sharp words, he makes no move to attack. He simply stares, as usual.

But I'll play along.