Addendum 999-J-1: D-5638 was planted in a bedroom with a 
microphone attached. SCP-999-J appeared approximately 2 hours 
into D-5638's sleep cycle. The following audio was recorded: 


Addendum 999-J-2: Incident 999-J-5: 


On //  ,SCP-999-J teleported into the bedroom of a couple in the 
midst of sexual intercourse. He asked them to continue and offered 
to watch. SCP-999-J proceeded to spend nine minutes searching 
through 999-J-1. He found a lone cheeto and consumed it. 
SCP-999-J reported the cheeto to be slightly "chewy" in texture, but 
reassured the couple that he was accustomed, and partial to the 
taste. 


SCP-999-J later expressed approval for specific actions performed 
by the subject couple on multiple occasions. 


Addendum 999-J-3: Various reports of SCP-999-J 


* // :Atea jar of pickles over a sleeping man for over 2 
hours. When the subject woke up he dropped a pickle in his 
chest hair and proceeded to spend 4 minutes untangling it. 

« // +: Appeared in bed while subject was watching television 
and pulled out a camcorder from SCP-999-J-1. SCP-999-J 
proceeded to record the television show. When asked why, 
SCP-999-J reported "it's cheaper this way". 

« // :SCP-999-J confirmed to have "sick air guitar skills", 
reports his favorite band is "Metallica". 

¢« //  :Found crying. When questioned, SCP-999-J said, 
"Firefly is cancelled." 

« //  :Asked SCP-105 out. Was rejected. 

« // :Removed SCP-999-J-1 in front of 12 year-old girl. 

Underneath was another instance of SCP-999-J-1. 

/ / :Farted. Blamed the dog. 

¢ //  : Observed engorging himself on over 10 instances of 

SCP-1162-J. 


Addendum 999-J-4: SCP-999-J was confronted by Dr. over his 
claims of "being in a band": 


SCP-999-J: | am too in a band. 

Dr. : Oh yeah, what's it called? 
SCP-999-J: Darkness Dick Supreme. 

Dr. : That doesn't sound real. 
SCP-999-J: Your mom doesn't sound real. 


Addendum 999-J-5: What the fuck is this? - O5- 


Log of Anomalous Ducks 


Note: Following Incident F-19 and the recovery of SCP-1356, 
Research Sector-09 was charged the evaluation and containment of 
resultant anomalies. Testing is ongoing, as relevant subjects are still 
being retrieved. Those items which display anomalous 
characteristics of a disruptive or exceptional nature, but not to a 
degree which merits further study or containment, are catalogued in 
this document. 


Unless otherwise specified, effects have only been observed to 
apply to subjects in physical contact with the object. Status of 
"missing" most likely indicates that item is in personnel possession. 
Newly identified items should be catalogued accordingly. 


Duck Description: Object has the appearance of a duck wearing a 
sheet, similar to a simplistic Halloween ghost costume. Duck has 
been observed to float 5-7cm above solid and liquid surfaces. 
Notes: Attempts to weight the object down result in duck phasing 
through solid materials. 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: Object is a tri-colored rubber duck with the 
coloration and scent of a popular Halloween candy. Subjects in 
close proximity to the duck express a strong desire to taste it. 
Notes: Jaste described as "disappointing". 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: Object appears to be a duck holding a small 
saxophone, which it has been observed to "play" at random intervals 
— emitting a single, drawn-out note followed by a series of 
melodically unrelated notes. 

Notes: Sounds produced by duck are significantly shriller than those 


produced by a traditional saxophone. 
Status: Destroyed 


Duck Description: Item appears to convince any individual holding 
it that it is a duck made of solid gold, despite appearance suggesting 
spray-painted PVC surface. Materials tests inconclusive. 

Notes: See Incident Report M_ -4 

Status: Destroyed 


Duck Description: Generic rubber duck design with the addition of 
a fuzzy green hat. Any subject holding this object perceives every 
living organism in their line of sight to be wearing a similar fuzzy 
green hat. 

Notes: Effects so far observed in humans, insects, animals of 
known and unknown species, organic SCPs, and several species of 
plant and fungi 

Status: Missing 


Duck Description: Duck-shaped object affects the romantic 
feelings of human subject holding it. Subjects will be convinced the 
object is a "love charm", and persist in this belief regardless of any 
arising evidence to the contrary. 

Notes: Status as cognitohazard pending review. 

Status: Missing Stored 


Duck Description: Identical to non-anomalous rubber ducks in 
design and composition— however, when left unattended in a room, 
item always appears in a location different from where it was 
originally placed. 

Note: Reports of uneasiness in the presence of this anomaly may 
warrant further testing. Duck's whereabouts should be promptly 
reported. 

Status: Missing 


Duck Description: While duck does not appear to possess any 


Clinically significant healing or painkilling properties, if held by a 
subject suffering from minor or significant injury, subject will 
subsequently find injured areas covered with a proportionate 
number of band-aids, regardless of the nature of the wound. 
Notes: /tem is available to all personnel for use, provided it is 
eventually returned to Room 204 first aid kit. 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: Despite its prolonged exposure to sunlight and 
seawater, object emits strong scent described by researchers as 
“artificial blueberry". PVC composition contains no trace of any 
chemical sufficient to produce this scent. 

Notes: Personnel have reported that close proximity of the object 
notably affects the taste of food and beverages. 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: Object is sun-bleached in the manner of other, 
non-anomalous ducks, but with a pattern of zebra stripes that 
appeared after retrieval. Any subject holding the item will exhibit a 
similar pattern of stripes on any white clothing they are wearing; 
markings usually fade after a 24 hour period. 

Notes: Object's whereabouts are proving easily detectable. 
Status: Missing (see note) 


Duck Description: Appears to be patterned after London landmark 
"Big Ben". When placed in a room with any analog clock, clock will 
promptly align with GMT London time. On the hour, object emits a 
bell tone via unknown mechanism; volume of this bell tone has been 
informally estimated to be "as loud as the real thing". 

Notes: Security footage dated to 3/11, 4:12 am, reveals that object 
was destroyed by personnel; no official reprimand pending. 

Status: Destroyed 


Duck Description: When held by male subject, duck will be 
invariably described by the individual as strikingly similar to a female 
of subject's acquaintance. Subjects have been frequently observed 


requires unusual mouthpart strength. 


Addendum: SCP-548, like most Cyriopagopus species, usually 
avoids contact with humans. If cornered, however, it quickly turns 
aggressive, attempting to bite its perceived attacker before fleeing. 


The object may be frozen solid with no apparent ill effects. It has 
survived repeated freezings, each time resuming normal behavior 
upon thawing. Further research is required to ascertain the 
mechanism of this resistance and to determine its suitability for long- 
term storage. 


Addendum 2: It is possible that the same anomalous effect that 
was historically responsible for SCP-2082 may now be affecting 
SCP-548. Research into this link is currently underway using 
SCP-2082 tissue samples preserved following Incident 2082-Prime. 
Proposals to resume the SCP-2082 cloning program for use of a live 
specimen have been denied. 


« SCP-547 | SCP-548 | SCP-549 » 


to fixate on determining "who it looks like" for prolonged intervals, 
and seem unable to resolve this question of identity. 

Notes: Object has no observable effect on female personnel. 
Status: Stored 


Duck Description: There does not appear to be anything 
anomalous about this duck. 

Notes: Object influences the perceptions of any subject holding it 
and any persons speaking to the affected subject. Object in fact 
appears to be a flamingo. 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: Object has the appearance of a generic duck 
dressed as a clown. Subject holding the duck will respond to any 
verbal statement or question directed towards them with 
uncontrollable laughter. 

Notes: Effect seems to apply regardless of the emotional or social 
appropriateness of this response. 

Status: Stored 


Duck Description: [DATA EXPUNGED] See image. 


Notes: Context or content of duck unknown. 
Status: Missing 


SCP-900-J: Modern Major Keter-Class 


This is the very model of an: SCP-900-J 

Its object class is: Keter, so we'd rather that you'd stay away. 
So follow to the letter these procedures for its keeping-in: 

A cell at Site-11's what this creature should be sleeping in. 

The walls are sealed hermetically with seven-layered steel doors 
each, 

And anyone who says its name, we'll fill their head and veins with 
bleach. 

Description: of 900-J is delicate, to say the least. 

To put it most politely, it's a putrid planet-eating beast! 

Its surname's a cognitohazard, first initial W. 

(Just say "900-J" so that its name can never trouble you) 

In short, a hostile monster that can class a day with X and K! 
Let's lock it up and let it rot, this SCP-900-J. 


This nasty beast was captured and discovered in a slaughterhouse. 
Reports arose of disappearances of Foreman Stanislaus 

And all of his subordinates in ways no one could understand 

(With possible involvement of an agent from the Serpent's Hand). 
Should SCP-900-J escape in a containment breach, 

The world would be blown into bits from London to Daytona Beach! 
It has no good intentions, and it thinks of humankind as lunch. 

It even called my mom a piece of data | will now [EXPUNGE]! 

To keep this beastie in a box is in itself impossible, 

Though hell if we won't try, ‘cause we're the ones you hold 
responsible, 

The keepers of the human race, Foundation's here to save the day! 
(We're running out of Thaumiels - can someone kill 900-J?) 


Addendum from the fifth of May: It's gone, we don't know where it 
went. 

It vaporized MTF Delta-10 (and told it to "get bent"). 

Two thirty-one is missing, too, the Scarlet King is furious, 

Six eighty-two is terrified, but 9-9-9 is curious. 


| hoped I'd never see the day that this would trickle out my lips: 
900-J intends to start a revolution of the scips! 

The Overseer council's saying prayers and going underground, 

and called scenario Alpha-K, the-planet's-gone-to-Torture- Town! 
Humanity's survival isn't looking very plausible, 

So light up a 420-J and pray for the impossible— 

Or take some hard amnestics, just enough of them to make you say 
You never heard of anything called SCP-900-J. 


SCP-007-J: Unidentified Muffin Creature 


Item #: SCP-007-J 
Object Class: Euclid, awaiting advancement to Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: The whereabouts of SCP-007-J 
are currently unknown, although it has been confirmed that it has not 
left Site since its initial discovery in Officer Blake and Officer 
Evan's office. Recon Team Theta is awaiting authorisation to sweep 
the premises. In the mean time, all staff are advised not to engage 
SCP-007-J due to its unknown nature. 


Description: SCP-007-J is a blueberry muffin which belonged to 
Foundation Officer Evan, prior to the discovery of its anomalous 
nature and its subsequent designation as an SCP. 


SCP-007-J was identified during Officers Blake and Evan's assigned 
lunch houron / /  . The anomaly occurred during a phone call 
Officer Evan received, which required him to leave the room. Whilst 
unobserved by Officer Blake, SCP-007-J, which Officer Evan had 
left unattended on his desk (planning to consume it after his phone 
call, believing it to be an ordinary muffin), disappeared by unknown 
means, leaving only a residue of unknown properties on Officer 
Blake's lips. 


The transcript of the exchange which led to SCP-007-u's discovery 
is recorded below. 


Officer Evan: (Entering the door, having concluded his 
phone call.) “Hey man... Oh... dude, where the hell is my 
muffin?” 


Officer Blake: “What?” 


Officer Evan: “No! We have been over the ethics of food 
stealing! You do not steal another man's pastries!” 


Officer Blake: “I swear to god | don't know what you're 
talking about.” 


Officer Evan: “So my muffin just walked out of here on 
its own, did it?” 


Officer Blake: “Well... | don't know... Stranger things 
have happened! | mean, you can believe in a concrete 
Weeping Angel or an indestructible, homicidal crocodile, 
but not a sentient muffin? Wait... do you think that's what 
we're dealing with here?” 


Officer Evan: “No, | think you've eaten it. You've still got 
crumbs on your face, for fuck's sake!” 


Officer Blake: (Grasping mouth area in panic.) “Oh shit! 
It's left its residue on me! Grab me an SCP form, I'm 
gonna run to the med bay and get myself checked out!” 


Officer Evan: “You're an idiot.” 


The residue left on Officer Blake's lips was identified as crumbs from 
SCP-007-J. It is currently unknown how or why SCP-007-d left its 
mark upon Officer Blake, but medical analysis has revealed no long 
term effects. As a precaution, Officer Blake is to spend three (3) 
days in quarantine. 


Additionally, to prevent other on-site pastries from animating as a 
result of exposure to SCP-007-d, or the Foundation itself (as may be 
SCP-007-u's origin) the cafeteria is to be kept under armed guard 
until SCP-007-J is secured. 


SCP-118-J: The Saltiest Doctor Alive 


Item #: SCP-118-J 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-118-J is to be contained 
at Site 19 until further notice by allowing him to work with whatever it 
is that SCP-118-J does around here anyway. SCP-118-J can be 
assigned further research duties, but prolonged interaction may 
cause individuals to exceed their daily sodium intake. It is not 
advised to agitate SCP-118-J, as it causes SCP-118-J to grow in 
size. 


In the event of an explosive outburst, Foundation personnel are 
advised to tell SCP-118-J to chill, and remind them of their condition, 
through an interrogative statement. 


Description: SCP-118-J is formerly Foundation Researcher Doctor 
Michael Magnus, who was transformed into a substantial quantity of 
common table salt after an unfortunate incident in the Site 19 
cafeteria. 


After this incident SCP-118-J has become a giant pile of salt, with a 
labcoat, and a pair of glasses in there somewhere. SCP-118-d is still 
able to perform his research duties for the Foundation, though the 
amount of salt he emits while doing so is staggering. Salt emissions 
have been observed to increase around payday, and after sporting 
events involving the Pittsburgh Steelers American football team. 


SCP-118-J has been observed to increase in the total volume of salt 
when agitated or corrected. As such it is recommended to try and 
keep SCP-118-J calm. Failure to do so may endanger your 
cardiovascular health. 


Researcher Kensington observed the transformation of Dr. Magnus 
on November 17th, 2004 after he became agitated, and "entered a 


salt state" (hereafter referred to as CONDITION-POSTERIOR- 
DAMAGED) during their shared lunch break. 


At this time, there's no known cure for SCP-118-u's condition, and 
will most likely remain a giant pile of salt until he dies. 


Dr. Magnus' note: 

Get fucked Kensington, you took that last plate of Carbonara, when 
you knew | wanted it, and that doesn't make me "salty", you giant 
chode. Stop posting this shit to the database, they're already 
murdering my inbox because of this. 


Addendum NaCl