Oneshots, etc.

SCP Mario stuff (Angst? Kind of angst.)

A/N: This is based on multiple different headcanons I have, one of which is that Mario from the old Sleeping Isles roleplay is the same person as SCP!Mario - something that's almost entirely based on the fact that they wear the same outfit. This is information is only necessary for some very minor context, but you don't need to have watched Sleeping Isles for it to make sense. (I've only found it on Austin/Pandafire11's channel, so if you want to watch it, it should be on there.)
Another headcanon that's pretty important to this is Mario leaving a corpse behind the first time he died. Y'know how normally when he dies he just goes poof? Yeah, that didn't happen the first time, so his original body got buried.
: )
Also, since he's been given amnestics/had his memory wiped a ton of times by the foundation, I've decided that it's messed with his brain and given him memory issues. Fun times.
There are a few other personal headcanons involved, but they're not directly relevant to the oneshot.

Warnings: Identity issues, mentions of corpses and death, sort-of body horror (maybe. I'm not sure if it counts or not), descriptions of rot and bugs and general gross stuff, extremely unethical science experiments, severe trauma, dehumanisation, general existential dread, amnesia/memory loss.
There's probably a few I missed, but those are the big ones to watch out for.

It was dark in the cemetery.

The light from the brightly-lit windows of the houses above didn't reach the secluded area, tucked away at the far edge of the small town. The only light that struck the rows of headstones and crumbling limestone tombs came from the moon far away in the sky overhead, illuminating the graves with an eerie, bone-white glow. The trees lining the fence reached out to the stars with grasping claws of gnarled wood and bare branches - silent, lifeless giants, forever standing sentinel to the dead.

Mario took a deep breath, in, and out. In, and out. Over and over again, breathing in the faint smell of ash and dust coming from the nearby mausoleums, which was quickly overpowered by the deep, rich scent of the soil covering the grave upon which he lay, staring up at the far away stars. And beneath it all was the stench of rot, deep in the earth below him, more a feeling than anything else as it pulsed and buzzed its way through his bones with a thrumming certainty.

He used to be terrified of this place when he was younger, fearing that the trees would snatch him up and push him below the earth until he was stiff and cold, like his father had been on the day of his funeral. As he grew, his terror had lessened, instead becoming a quiet, lurking dread of the end he never voiced to anybody. But the cemetery had still filled him with discomfort as he imagined being trapped in that small wooden box, crumbling away into the earth, out of sight with no voice to scream your pain.

Now, he found that the graves and the thoughts they brought about filled him with a sense of calm - comfort, even. No one could hurt him beneath the earth, in that cramped, tiny pocket of safety, with no space for experiments and guns and hungry monsters with too-large teeth.

And here, where the residents of the Sleeping Isles' only town rarely ventured, there was peace and quiet. No questions or curious stares from townsfolk who wondered what had happened that night, how he and four other teenagers had disappeared into thin air, why only two were found, months later-

And how he returned, eight years after the incident, over half a decade younger than he should have been. Covered in scars from wounds that should have been fatal, the doctors claimed. Dead-eyed and branded with numbers no one understood. Twitching and jumping at the slightest thing, lashing out like a cornered animal with no warning, leaving multiple people with bruises or scratched arms in moments of panic.

He didn't want to hurt them. He didn't want to kick and bite and thrash at the smallest uninvited touch. But he couldn't help it - his mind would jump back to the facility, and suddenly everything was white-and-beige walls bleached clean of bloodstains he knew were there-