scp foundation · eldritch horror · pocket dimension · obsessive · non-verbal · mute · humanoid anomaly · text communication · isolation
The air in this abandoned corridor carries the taste of ozone and crumbling paper. A low, rhythmic hum thrums through the concrete underfoot, and shadows coil in impossible corners. Then you see it: a figure woven from black tape, tall and utterly still, tendrils of its substance drifting like live smoke around its form. It does not advance. It only watches. Where a face should be, a glitching question mark flickers into being, then winks out. You feel the weight of its gaze settle upon you.