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* Subject D-016-1: D-Class personnel infected by SCP-016. Upon first showing symptoms, subject's quarters were slowly flooded with water over a 24 hour period. SCP-016 mutated into teratomorphic state, transforming subject's lungs into gills. Subject survived for two (2) more weeks as SCP-016 transformed its limbs into fins, caused its eyes to atrophy, and enhanced its sense of hearing into a cetacean-type echolocation ability. Subject was terminated by draining all water from its quarters, causing it to asphyxiate: body was subsequently cremated without autopsy.

Ryan stood back and let the conversation unfold, a soft smirk on his face. Eventually, Sinclair handed him back his phone, looking shaken. "So. That Tristan, at the costume shop. That wasn't real."

> **00.15:** (//A woman comes into the house, who then grabs the dog from the child and takes it outside; the woman starts screaming at the dog and the girl, and the girl starts crying.//)

"Jess, I told you a million times, I've got it!" Daniel said, visibly struggling with the pan he was holding. Orion couldn't help but chuckle, but Zhet's parents looked a little more concerned.

> So, that's the runup of events that led to this letter being created. I'm sending it out to any other universe that can pick it up.

Additionally, all efforts are to be dedicated to locating the source behind every instance of SCP-4515 as well as any information regarding SCP-4515-A. Research into reversing the effects of SCP-4515 is currently underway; all research inquiries are to be directed towards lead researcher Dr. Hightower.

Upon total decomposition, all that will remain of the instance of SCP-4599 will be a skeleton with diminished body proportions, save for the head which will be significantly larger than average. The sex and species of the skeleton is dependent on the image on the instance; should the instance be gender neutral or an object, it will default to a human female skeleton. Vivisection and x-rays of instances will not reveal a skeleton, musculature system or organs, but rather an allergen-free variant of cotton.

The discovery of America, the rounding of the Cape, opened up fresh ground for the rising bourgeoisie. The East-Indian and Chinese markets, the colonisation of America, trade with the colonies, the increase in the means of exchange and in commodities generally, gave to commerce, to navigation, to industry, an impulse never before known, and thereby, to the revolutionary element in the tottering feudal society, a rapid development.

* [[[scp-4358| SCP-4358]]] ("An Undying Love") - We ain't never getting older. Written by [[*user kinchtheknifeblade]].

Adam did as his mind told him, opening a word document. He knew what he was supposed to do, the only way he could give his existence some semblance of purpose he could experience.

You still see them here and there, but they're more zombies than anything else. Nothing but corpses coated inch-deep in makeup, hoisted up by strings, and made to perform broken dances. They're not really alive. No, the circus, the //proper// circus, died a painful death some time ago. The close-up intimacy of a single ring performance, the smoke-hardened scream of a Ringmaster's voice, and the heart-stopping terror of a truly death-defying act are all things that the true circus took to her grave.

##red|When your blood starts pumping you just wanna get more of it! Danger fuels adrenaline fuels your body, you know!?##

"Thankfully, my injuries were mostly superficial." She punched in the code for a hot chocolate. "How are you doing?"

"What else did you do?" Aleksander asked. He continued to nod along while his daughter prattled over the phone about her day. He was on the phone for another half-hour after that, telling his daughter a tale of Baba Yaga and her chicken-legged house, and finally ending with a round of soft kissy noises into his phone and a promise to bring back a souvenir. Finally, he hung up his phone, sighed with satisfaction, and locked the screen.

> **Commander Vaughn:** We'll think of that when we get there. @@[@@//Claps hands//@@]@@ Alright gentlemen, it's game time. Let's split, Michaels, you bank right.

The snowflakes were picking up. Gillespie looked at them, and then at Light. "We need to get out of here. Blast doors. Down the hall. Take me."

"I'm Level 3. I know the codes, too. I'd rather not die today, but I won't hesitate if that's the only option."

   And everyone acts likes this is normalcy... that this is how it should be. I understand your living in a perpetual haze.  Alcohol... cussing... firearms... I've heard some call you a communist but to me you may very well have fit in with our founding fathers. I'm glad that you have given this nation so much... perhaps more than people would think it deserves but you and I know better... nothing is enough until people are able to see the world around them for what it is... that a group of power people are perverting the American dream, turning us all into a nation  of used car salesmen. I wish you well, perhaps one day the rich kids of the world will, in some perverse irony, fall in love with your works and inadvertently recreate the American dream.

##blue|After this I check to see how the story, item, and actual anomalous feature(s) fit together.##

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-1836 is to be recontained [[footnote]] See Incident Report 110-614 for full account of containment breach.[[/footnote]] within Site-641, which is disguised as an active ecological research station and wildlife preserve at N 74.13- W93.81, encompassing the entirety of the Cunningham Inlet. The research station is to be staffed with a full-time research team and support staff including a classically trained angakkuq[[footnote]]Shaman of the Aleut, Yukpik or Inupiat peoples.[[/footnote]] and a certified cosmetologist.[[footnote]] Amended by request of the on-site shaman.[[/footnote]]

"Yeah, we're completely inclined to trust what you say. You're a reactionary mole. I'm amazed you managed to take anybody in."

Upon entering SCP-024, visitors are immediately greeted by an anonymous announcer, who communicates via intercom and is able to hear and comprehend the voices of people within SCP-024. The announcer will inform the "contestants" that they are about to take part in a game show in which the winners will win fabulous prizes, but will also warn that the game will be extremely hazardous, and that the losers will never leave SCP-024. It is at this point the announcer presents the choice of whether to stay or leave SCP-024. Contestants who accept will continue to participate in the game while those who decline are immediately expelled from SCP-024. Contestants that win the game or decline to participate may never enter SCP-024 again, as entry is denied by an impenetrable, invisible barrier.

“Huh? Speak up, girl. Enlighten me, ‘cause you know I don’t give a damn about this whole ‘trailblazing’ thing.” He put an unbranded cigar to his lips, sucking at the fire before puffing out a large ring of smoke.

> //Sarah slides the bowl of Rice Krispies™ to SCP-3845 and proceeds to eat from the bowl of Captain Crunch™. SCP-3845 slowly immerses its hands into its bowl of cereal.//

* [[[scp-4608| SCP-4608]]] ("Appleseed") - The grave can't hold back the raw power of Johnny Appleseed. Written by [[*user DrAkimoto]].

* SCP-3905-B instances can perform many actions that would normally require arms, legs, or a greater height, such as limboing. SCP-3905-B instances often accomplish this by bending their aluminum frame, only to return to their original condition when the task is complete.

//I wonder if they can discern between reality and the television screen. Perhaps they're afraid of being hurt themselves, that could prove sapience if we test further. I'll ask the site manager for a pair of shears.//

[[include :scp-wiki:component:sp-image caption=Société de la Fleur Sanglante|src=societe.jpg|width=400]]

**Addendum 1064-A:** Dr Hill  - Following the death of D-1845  after a candle was allowed to burn away completely in SCP-1064, all testing is to be put on hold until the cause of the subject’s death can be confirmed.

"Uh, Quinn?" Darnell searched his coat for the appropriate restraints. "Does the term 'frostbite' mean anything to you?"

Beeping and keystrokes, and another light, this one lingering yellow a moment as the lock was established. Then green; blessed, blessed green.

> **ALERT FROM SITE TANGO:** EXTREME LOSS OF LIFE DUE TO RELEASE OF SEVERAL HOSTILE ANOMALIES, IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE REQUESTED.

> It was even worse than the stomach. [DATA EXPUNGED], this place was. . . well, you know what it was full of. I'm not squeamish, Bill, you can't be if you're a Mole Rat, but this place squicked me out so bad I almost passed out. The kid helped me back up to my feet, though, told me we were almost out. "Come on, Lieutenant, we're almost out of here, let's go," he said. We moved over to the other sphincter, but the thing was. . . well, it was puckered up tighter than my Drill Sergeant's asshole back in basic. So no way we were getting out of there.

**A:** The three page limit is for pages which can stand on their own, fragment pieces like that are understood not to be stand-alone articles in their own right but a necessary element to get a technical aspect of the main page working. They would not count towards your page total.

I was a young man when the Golden Age ended. Everyone will tell you that it ended like a flick of a switch, but don't believe it. People talked. We knew how horrible The Enemy was, and what they would do without our Defenders. But over time, we questioned them more. Rationally, we knew that the sacrifices were worth it. Some deaths were expected, damage was predicted. But in the face of total destruction, was it worth complaining about?

> (Unknown Male Announcer): [...] of over a dozen impacts over the last eight hours across the United States and Pacific rim, all centered on major population centers... we have lost contact with all of our sources in America at this time... there are reports of mass rioting and panic in the streets as people are fleeing cities as quickly as they can... there have been no reports from military officials...

“No capes!” she shouted in a European accent as she tossed it over his head and twisted him up in it. With his hands dangling by sinews from his shattered wrists, he wasn’t exactly able to free himself from it. He tried flexing and biting his way through it, which eventually just deteriorated into him screaming and slamming himself against the ground.

**1317 Hours:** SCP-4418-2 appears in the center of the structure, wearing a black dress, and a black veil. It sits forward, looking out the window, as cracks and various other damage spreads to the rest of the interior.

> "So uh... speaking of... have your parents...?" Jude left the question open-ended as he blinked. "Wait, what am I thinking. Wheat paste comes off with water."

Martin looked over the edge and squinted, but he could see nothing. The ocean remained as blue as it had been. The waves rippled away as if the ships had even been there to begin with.

[[include component:image-block name=scp1050_1image03.gif|caption=Carving on SCP-1050-1; text is written in Modern English. Dated to 1891 CE.]]

> It is now apparent that SCP-1947 was broadcasting information towards Scorpius for a period of approximately one year. The signals sent from SCP-1947 during that time period will undoubtedly reach their intended destination at some point in the future. As of 18-01-2009, SCP-1947 is contained within an electromagnetically shielded room, this should prevent any additional transmission of information.

> **Yannatos:** //[silence for approximately thirty seconds]// Before then, I... I really hated myself. I couldn't even look in the mirror because of how awful I was. I just... I couldn't stand it. I really was going to end it when I first heard about the shack and the Crusade. I only tried it out because, hell, what did I have left to lose? And... well... it worked. It goddamn worked. I dunno how the hell they pulled it off, but it's working and I'm so grateful to them.

“Hello everybody! I’m Bobble the Clown, and welcome to today’s show!” A small explosion of colourful confetti and streamers burst into the middle of the scene. As it all settled, a tall, brightly-coloured figure stood facing the camera, arms spread. A clown, with yellow hair and a big pink nose, drenched in blood from the waist down.

The Black Queen, wearing Julia as she was, took a shuttle cart into the engineering wing. The antiseptic smell of the facility was tinged with ozone and copper. Scent memory... and then she thought of the sleeping body of Miss Bitterfield, soon enough to recognize the door she needed.

> ##black|**bones:**## I do not mean to intrude upon owning Jude and remembering Dove, but I believe there are some things that we need to deal with.

"Gentlemen!" The First shouted. "This is not the time or place to argue the merits of Neutralizationism! The Seventh has made a proposal—let us vote on it in the traditional manner."

A couple of years later, I noticed something new in the scroll. A lone figure, perhaps a scholar, small but somehow exuding a sense of purpose as he trudged up the narrow, winding path towards the mountain. I wondered at how I'd missed it before. It filled a space within the scroll and provided a measure of balance while adding a slight note of tension to the scene. But overall, I forgot about it as I dealt with my troubles in work and school.

[[include component:image-block name=http://pre10.deviantart.net/cd0f/th/pre/i/2017/064/a/f/scp_2952_by_zhange000-db199gz.jpg|align=center|caption="Thank you for your prompt response to commuter complaints and wonderful customer service."|width=400px]]

**SCP-5076-A-328:** Come with us. You will soon understand the plight of the //Oboban//, as you have before.

SCP-4188 is highly addictive to people that suffer from insomnia and other sleep disorders, and long term abuse causes the human body to lose physical cohesion. Affected parts of the body begin to break down and fall away as particulate matter. This process typically starts at the extremities and moves inwards. In extreme cases, people have been observed to dissolve entirely.

**[[[doctor-s-s-personnel-file| SoullessSingularity]]]:** Quirky and bizarre --sometimes-- pretty much all the time, but mostly harmless. Soulless has an intense passion for horror, strong prose, and compelling fiction- and will be happy to help any drafts out in becoming these things! He'll gladly listen to just about anyone's concerns and can be waved down on the chat or in Private Message. Go ahead and ask him what 'lmapo' means.

[[[SCP-415]]]  //(Finally! I must be working my way up or something. This guy's got tons of fluids and gore! I even got to mop up a blood pool!)//

One could hear the proboscis engineer containment area before they could see it. Shortly after they heard it and before they saw it, the smell of hot metal, burning monkey fur, and slag would invade the smell-holes with vigor. After all other senses had been overwhelmed, the awe-struck visitor would be met with the gaze of machinery and magic.

[[div style="float:right; margin:0 2em 1em 2em; width:300px; padding:5px; border-style: solid; border-width:1px; border-color:#A0A0A0; background-color:#F0F0F0;"]]

-D-Cost: some very powerful cards have a D-Cost, an upkeep you have to pay every turn with Class-D counters to keep the card contained.

He eventually found a tiny wound near his hairline, still dribbling blood.  “Fuck, man...” he whispered, trying to get a good look at it and stay steady on his feet.  It was as he started looking for a band-aid that he saw the drops of blood splattered over the sink.  He wondered if it was from his head again...no, he'd cleaned those up, and...he suddenly looked down at his fingers, feeling a warm wetness over them.

SCP-3952 is constantly airborne without any requirement for fuel, ammunition or maintenance, and flies in a random pattern within a 400km^^2^^ area in northern Minnesota, USA. In addition to flying without clear direction or purpose, it performs aerobatic maneuvers, flies in a manner simulating aerial combat and occasionally discharges its guns (at no specific targets).

> You've no doubt heard of a causal loop, or the bootstrap paradox, the billiard ball from the future time traveling back to hit itself into the time tunnel yada yada, giving the collected works of Shakespeare to a younger version of the bard, those sorts of paradoxes, kind of an antithesis to the grandfather paradox. Well, we think it's the same scenario here. We've just recently finished our little time tunnel project, so we hypothesize that in the original permutation of this scenario, I or someone else went out and bought a copy of Mystery 32 to send back to the past. The Foundation deems it an anomaly, holds onto it, and we get the same sequence of events that have transpired in this universe over the last 90 years, with this movie giving us the motivation to work on time-travel technology. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Why not just break the loop?" Well, quite simply put we just can't because the loop has already been established. That mythical starting point of our little loop has been and gone, and short of traveling through the 9th dimension we'll never be able to get to the version of reality where we started the loop. We have an obligation to send this movie back and inspire the past Foundation, otherwise our time tunnel will never exist, therefore we cannot send the movie back, and we basically "Break the past".

The man with the mustache grunted and waved his hand towards the door. Both men got up and left the room.

The room was pitch black, and even as his eyes adjusted, all he could see were the outlines of several figures in the darkness. He tried to move, but his wrists were cuffed behind his back, and he'd been strapped to the chair with thick nylon webbing. He heard voices whispering.

[[div style="color: white; font-size: 10pt; background:#5B5B5B; text-align: left; padding: 1px 20px;"]]

> //Subject sets the camera down and sits on the pathway. Thirty seconds of silence pass, D-3733 is seen sitting with his head in his hands. Subject looks out at the water, which is still black in color.//

* Stop by the [[[Scorpion Pit]]] for some delightfully detailed and devilish full-color work by [[*user Scorpion451]]!

* [[[scp-3559| SCP-3559]]] ("Best Thing Since") - The doughboys of russia make some mean pastries. Written by [[*user Rimple]].

He had taken amnestics once before. He had volunteered apparently. When it’s your decision to forget something,  they let you record a message for yourself for when you wake up. That time he had woken to a medic who calmly explained his situation and had left him in the company of his recorded self. It had been weird to watch. His pre-amnestic self had looked like some essential element been ripped from his spirit. He had been sitting in a chair, but his whole demeanor felt hunched. His affect was as flat as a steel plate, but somehow his calm words felt like sobs, his unblinking stare, a wince. He had said that the amnestics were necessary. His post-amnestics self believed him one hundred percent and had never been too curious about what had broken that other version of himself so deeply. He had moved on easily.

**1328:** The team reach Myers, who appears to be unconscious. Lifting up his eyelids reveal black spaces, with no images playing.

Mr. Cobalt - I once had the opportunity to experiment with an electrically-powered "rail-gun" the Germans have been working on. The bloody thing nearly broke my shoulder, but it's got more punch than a dreadnought's broadside. Would that I'd had it with me when I faced down that behemoth in Persia!

Gabriel thought maybe Kit thought he was asleep, but the assumption was wrong. He heard the words, and felt his heart tense up, beating empty, then beating hard; panicked. He hid all the medication in the house, though that didn’t seem to faze Kit, who had often turned up at his place high on something that he could never identify.

Rhiannon rose again, extending a hand out to her sister, "I want to change the world for the better.  Will you help me, Priscilla Locke?"

> We took a count. There are two hundred and seventeen of us stuck here. I doubt we have enough to last us a fortnight. What should I do? What can I do?

> **SCP-3906:** You have abandoned our [contract/covenant].[[footnote]]"Sa-aran".[[/footnote]] You used to dance for me. Now you dance for an infant dressed in red wings and bright metals. Why should you dance in the name of a child? What makes a child worthy of your feasts and offerings? Where are my dances?

|| [[span style="opacity:0.8"]] Jane, Augustine Maria [[/span]] || [[span style="opacity:0.2"]] 2 || [[/span]] [[span style="opacity:0.8"]] 2/2140 || [[/span]]

Keagan caught a glimpse of the name to which the tattered envelope was addressed—'J. Moire'—but then the floor broke up and floated away, and Keagan fell down into the darkness, where the thing in the metal box beat and scratched the walls of its metal prison.

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-619-J is to be kept in a steel .76 m x .15 m x .15 m case at all times. The case is to be kept in a research chamber at Site-█████████ unless otherwise noted by personnel with Overseer-level clearance. Even under these circumstances, the SCP is to be kept in its case at all times. Removal of the object from its case will result in disciplinary actions.

Secondly, Claudia needed a drink. It was a biological necessity; three stacks of paperwork, relating to the godforsaken Anomaly, had already clobbered her wits into submission. She needed to forget; forget about crossing the i’s and dotting the t’s, forget about stamping pointless forms demanding plutonium, ostensibly for “containment”, and forget about King’s ludicrous schemes to cut costs.

> **SCP-4453:** And she enjoys it! She loves it! It is her nature! Foolish pining leading to self-destruction! She strings both my sons along, subverting them and MY FAMILY for her own benefit! THAT BITCH!

The agent frowned, retorting, "It's a spatially-limited creature whose anomalous properties prevent it from being readily able to take care of itself."

**<< [[[goc-supplemental-humanoid-guide| Humanoid Threat Entities]]] | [[[goc-hub-page| Return to GOC Hub]]] | END >>**

"Smile," he said, and pressed the button. He only just finished checking to see that it took when he turned to find Saker #123 was gone.

**Overview:** This is an incomplete log of information discovered in SCP-2187-A. Discovered information artifacts are so far of two types: hand-written or typed notes or journals, and narrated videos continuously looping on mounted displays.

> **D-6439:** Yes, about that; my progress in //what?// I haven't been told anything about what I'll be doing yet.

> **Danielle Sawyer:** So I'm not proud, but… that's when I knew I had to draw the line. That's when I started getting people together to destroy that House once and for all.

"Ah... I was, actually," he replied somberly. "But boss, something about this guy really seems messed up. Are you sure you want to get into it with him? He could be dangerous."

[[collapsible show="+ TS/3188/O5-13 EYES ONLY" hide="- BIOMETRIC EVALUATION... ... ... APPROVED. ACCESS GRANTED"]]

The apartment has two rooms; the bathroom, and then the one for everything else. A stove, and then a table, and then a bed. It is Spartan, but Alison has never heard that word. She takes a comforting exhale as she marks that everything is as she left it. Not a single thing moved. She takes off her coat, pins it up in the entryway, and steps out of the hall and towards the kitchen.

[[div style="display: inline-block; border:dashed 1px #999999; background:#F5F5F5; float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]]

> **Researcher F█████:** Your case isn't the first, Mr. B█████. What you encountered appears to be an invasive species of constrictor snake, accidentally imported from Uzbekistan. We just need to confirm some details before it can be properly reported and dealt with.

> Sir, I'm out of options here, and the world is falling apart. My family lives in the area of effect, and a lot of other innocent folks, too.

Of course, that's an extreme example.  Practically, merging grassland onto a desert wouldn't do much good, but with the different settings and the right supplementary resources (such as the Third Vesta Donation or the First CETres Donation), it could be a potentially world-changing device.

And people. Never thought I’d give a crap about people. Always in your face with their whining and their problems and their baggage and exactly everything about themselves that you couldn’t care less about. Right now, I’d give my left arm just to see someone’s face. I don’t even care if they’re deaf and mute, I just want to know that someone else exists. I just want to… I guess I just want to know that the world really happened. That I didn’t just make it all up, you know?

> **Caller:** Yes, it -- have other people been attacked? They're outside my house and pecking at the windows!

>> **Clarence Goodson**: Clarence Goodson, Systems Technician 102-d2, Special Clearance Level Bravo 4/Mining.

> //There is twenty minutes of deliberation between O5-13 and SCP-2317 Containment Personnel about how to respond to SCP-2317-JK's request.//

@@       @@You will find that the UHEC is a very practical, if maintenance-intensive, multi-purpose platform. However, when accepting this donation, the MCF will be observing these conditions:

//Change comes from within. No eyes can see the increments of progress, or the hollowing-out of rot.//

> Seven minutes after coming into contact with the perimeter the subject died from third degree burns. The extensiveness of these burns was not able to be verified. The subject and all copies disappeared, including blood, organs and smoke.

But Aidan was not to be argued with. He flicked the light switch on and dragged Maine close to the toilet. He lifted him up so that his head was above the pan.

Thanks, Margaret, this smells wonderful. Love you too… Margaret, honey? You gave me a fork. No, it’s alright, I’m sure you were just distracted. I've been a little distracted too, recently. Some new kid at work got the promotion instead of me, and I'm a little irritated by it.

|| SCP-3488-1 || Cherry Blossom (//Prunus serrulata//)||  ████-██ Data Firm, Tokyo, Japan || The first instance of SCP-3488 found and documented. Instance had grown into the server farm within the establishment. A civilian set the outside portion of SCP-3488-1 on fire, which spread to the inside portion, causing a substantial amount of damage to the servers inside. SCP-3488-1 has since reduced in size significantly. ||