“Oh.” 
“It's nice to have a sanctioned beach close to the site, huh?” 


“Yeah, it seems like something Site-19’s staff would make good use 
of,” 


“It’s good to get out of the Site from time to time. Remember that 
there’s an outside.” 


“Mark, if Crellan started rampaging around the lab, what would you 
do?” 


“Speed-dial you. Your fat lizard, your responsibility. What are you 
going to do when you get back to your office?” 


“Find out when someone fed Crellan today. He’s not fat.” 
Mark sent his assistant a textbook-quality withering look. 


“I’m kidding. I’m going to transfer all the beach pictures to my laptop. 
Probably print one out and stick it to my office door, to remind me to 
take a break when | can’t feel my eyes.” 


A week later, Mark walked by Riven’s new office. He spotted 
something on the wall behind his assistant’s new desk and smiled. 


Taped to the wall, next to Dr. Mercer’s official veterinary program 
completion certifications and small collection of framed Foundation 
accolades, was a glossy picture of the King of Seagulls. 


Dr. Kiryu went back to his own office, and replied to the memo he 
had received that morning. It had contained an attached file, his 
assistant’s quarterly psychological evaluation report: "everything 
looking okay", "some evidence of research-based stress", "subject 
has a a well-adjusted mindset", "best of luck with new duties, 


request vacation time as needed". 


Kiryu breathed out as he signed the documentation confirming he 
had read and reviewed the file. One more year, four more psyc 
evals to sign off, and he'd no longer have an assistant, but a co- 
director. 


Remember to take care of yourself, he thought. 


Learning The Alphabet Hub 


This series has been discontinued. Abandoned. It's dead 
in the water. 


Apologies to anyone disappointed, but | just don't care 
anymore. 


Apathy is a hell of a thing. 
+ If you'd like to see what did make it in, click here. 


"Finn, do you think our lives would make for an 
interesting story?" 


"Um. Probably not. | mean, | spend most of my 
time staring at a computer screen. Or eating. 
Or sleeping.” 


"Oh, come on. We have adventures." 
"Getting groceries is not an adventure, Allie." 
"It could be." 

"That was one time." 


"Right, but like, how many times did we do 
something one time?" 


"Okay, that, uh. That's actually a decent point." 


"So if we did have a story- like a series, | 
guess? What do you think it would be called?" 


"Probably something dumb. Like a joke based 
on some gimmick within the tales." 


humanoid morphological qualities, designated SCP-667-2. The only 
known instance of SCP-667 in the world is located in a wilderness 
area in the southeastern United States, approximately km north of 

, , and covered an areaof sqkm prior to being trimmed to 
its current size. Forensic analysis of skeletal remains found within 
SCP-667-1 indicate that it was introduced to the region shortly after 
the introduction of kudzu to the United States in the late 19th 
century. 


In the presence of adequate nutrition, SCP-667-1 is capable of 
growing at a rate considerably greater than that of the standard 
kudzu plant; samples in captivity, under ideal conditions, have been 
observed to grow as rapidly as 2.5 meters per day. SCP-667-1 is 
capable of planting roots in almost any form of soil or soft organic 
tissue and will grow along or over the surface of any foreign matter 
in the path of its growth, including trees, structures, automobiles, or 
animal life. SCP-667-1's primary source of nutrition is derived from 
humans or other large mammals; upon encountering a sleeping, 
paralyzed, or dead animal within its path of growth, SCP-667-1 will 
rapidly grow around and through the creature, gradually consuming 
and metabolizing its remains to further its growth. SCP-667-1's 
vines, flowers, and roots contain large quantities of alkaline 
compounds which render it unpalatable to human beings and all 
other animal species (besides SCP-667-2) on which it has been 
tested. 


Mature SCP-667-2 organisms are approximately 7.5 cm in length, 
with two large wings extending the entire length of the organism. 
Dissections indicate that SCP-667-2's internal biology is similar to 
that of insects of the family Lampyridae ("fireflies"). SCP-667-2's 
exoskeleton strongly resembles a miniaturized human being, with 
the organism's thorax being contained within the chest cavity and 
the abdomen and bioluminescent organ concealed within the legs. 
Male and female SCP-667-2 organisms have been recovered; 
female SCP-667-2 organisms reproduce by laying eggs which hatch 
as larvae, burrowing into the soils underneath SCP-667-1 and 
emerging as mature insects the following year. The current wild 
population of mature SCP-667-2 organisms at any given time is 
estimated to be less than 5,000; as many as are believed to 
have existed prior to trimming. 


"Like what?" 


"Like..." 


Learning the Alphabet 
with Aldon & Finnegan 


"Damn straight my name's first." 
"Oh, shut up." 
* Prologue 
© "A" is for Anart Antics 
¢ Are We Consecrated Yet? 


"B" is for Boron Blisters 

"C" is for Covert Cursing 
"74s for Dunkin Rénuts 

"E" is for Exasperated Efforts 
"F" is for Facetious Fanatics 
"G" is for Gray God 


GY Ore Ore: 


¢ INTERLUDE 1 (By djkaktus) 
© "H" is for Hugo Hijinks 
¢ Finnegan Has Nobody to Hang Out With 


© "I" is for Involuntary Isolation 
© "J" is for Jam Jars 

© "K" is for Killing Knowledge 
© "L" is for Library Lifeline 

© "M" is for Mental Mazes 


INTERLUDE 2 (By Kalinin) 


O "N" is for Nazi Nonsense 


Mi "N" is-alsé tor Nagghity Necrophilés’ 
« ACT3 


© COMING IN A VERY LONG TIME 

O COMING AT SOME POINT IN THE 
FUTURE 

© COMING AT A TIME THAT IS NOT THE 
PAST 

©O COMING WHEN THE FUTURE IS THE 

PAST 


¢ INTERLUDE 3 
© COMING AT THE SPEED OF SOUND 
* ACT4 


COMING WHEN BREAK'S OVER 
COMING AT SOME POINT 

COMING IN TOO LONG A TIME TO GET 
HYPED ABOUT IT 

COMING WHEN | FIGURE OUT HOW TO 
FINISH IT 

COMING WHILE | WONDER WHY | 
DECIDED TO MAKE A 26-PART SERIES 
COMING THE MOMENT | SLAY THIS 
THING 


CFO 3272 oo 


¢ EPILOGUE 
© COMING AND GOING 


...Like Clockwork Hub 


Year 452,382 


And here it is; the revelation. Just as there's no real 
differences between myself and I, there's truly no 
differences between acceptance and denial. The only 
two things defining each are semantics and level of 
emotions. Maybe that's why | had trouble understanding 
the differences, how to apply them to myself; it's all a 
matter of shifting perspective. 


Maybe there's an end in sight. A goalpost where | can 
break free of the consistent years spent in nothingness, 
feeling my atoms turn to wet, and resisting. All | have to 
do is step forward, remember that "yes" is "yes", and 
hold on. Eventually, the answer will come for why things 
are the way they are. 


Answers always come. 


+ Content warnings for: 


¢ Body horror/gore/vomit 
¢ Abuse 

* Self-harm 

* Suicide 


The Story As It Is: 


. | See a Darkness 

. Castles 2 (Dying Out West) 

. Only God Can Judge Me and More (Let Us Get 
Murdered) 

. The Moon Is a Dead World (Golden Dawn) 

. Only Once Away My Son 

. Th Vmpr f Tm nd Mmr 

. I'll Try Living Like This (Somebody Home) 

. ...Like Clockwork 


Onm — 


ONoOaSFS 


Further Reading: 


SCP-3999 by LordStonefish 

SCP-3817 by Mendelssohn 

SCP-765 by TroyL 

In His Own Image: Part 6 from In His Own Image 
by TroyL 

¢ Portraits Of Your Father by thefriendlyvandal 


Tangentially-Related Reference Materials: 


SCP-2740 by djkaktus 

Leeway by Decibelles 

Only |n Drea{{m}}s-- by tunedtoadeadchannel 
Parable of the Wayward Prince by Eskobar 
Routine Psychological Evaluations By Dr Glass by 
Pair Of Ducks (and other articles Doctor Glass 
appears in) 

* The writer's author page and her 
works contained therein, by Decibelles 


Fanart: 
Researcher Talloran and The Being by Sir Baubius 
+ Fanart 


...Like Clockwork by SunnyClockwork 


+ Fanart 


| See a Darkness 


Year 23,981 


The Parasite deemed Death wraps itself around my neck. It 
doesn't hesitate to do the same Itself. 


“Do you understand yet, the pleasures of drowning oneself in ichor?” 
It whispers into my right ear. 


“Do you understand yet, the troubles that feast upon life?” Death 
coos into the other. 


“| just want to live in peace. Live a normal life, with the concept of 
friendship. Why does it have to be like this?” | grasp the rug made of 
eyelids below me, watching as the world shakes in awe. | know that 
my decision would ultimately boil away the impurities that was 
cowardice, and soon reveal a hidden strength in me. | withstand the 
humiliation, knowing it would take time. | see Its mouths stretch in 
delight, as my nerves shut down. "Is this what | wanted?"; | see It 
signal in the affirmative. It was the first year where my spirit had 
sapped and had gone for suicide. 


| gasped. 

I verb. | verb. 
hd. 

I. 


I? 


The background breaks, and my body goes limp. 


Year 23,982 


My new form is of my youngest self, the developing fetus of a 
woman who struggled between being a guardian and being a 
mother. The world starts out as dark and unassuming; usually does. 
The longer | wait, the quicker It comes. | squirm my way into the 
light, barely able to feel the air around me, and immediately burn. 
The background breaks, and my ashes fly away. 


Year 23,983 


My new form is myself of indeterminate age. | am in a dark room, 
the sweet, unfamiliar sounds of blackened wasps buzzing in- 
between the gaps. Across the table is a Woman, Her identity | am 
unable to discern. 


"Hello?" She walks towards me, and | immediately recognize her 
gait. "Wait, why are you here too, | thought it was —" The first 
physical sensation | feel in this place is wet steel entering my liver. 
She twists right, and | collapse on the floor in a heap. 


"How could you do such a thing, my inspiration..." She kneels in 
front of me and turns my body over. She makes sure to position my 


head under her knee, so | can only look up at Her face. "How could 
you abandon me? How could you abandon your mother as well, for 
the sake of peace..." 


"You aren't her after all. Please... please just stop. | want to 
breathe!" 


"You should have thought about that before unleashing your 
creations upon us." It shook Its head. "Is this the feeling you have 
felt your whole life made physical? Forming facts into fiction, fiction 
into facts. Do you understand yet, the knowledge of thoughts?" The 
room turns stark yellow into as She brings down the blade. 


Right pinky. The blood shows an image of a young girl, at the age of 
10, being told by her classmates, that she would never amount to 
anything. Her principal pities her. bright red 


Left ring. The skin unravels and shows a portrait, of a child at the 
age of 12 who once thought he knew what the word "fear" meant. 
neon pink 


Left middle. Veins crawl its way out to write a story. putrid, pale 
green 


When time had a defined construct, two adults separated from each 
other, leaving their children lost and confused. The children had no 
idea who to turn to next, and made a promise to each other; this 
promise would bind the two of them together for the rest of their 
lives, built upon the solidarity of building new, stable lives as adults. 
All of this is what they wished for. Instead, their parents remained 
married, and there would be no semblance of a functional family or 
close relationship with one another. 


All feeling is lost in my left arm now; salt and glucose do not bring 
sensation back. 


Left index. | vomit. "Do you remember your first day working for the 
Foundation?" the vomit asks. | don't, | reply, strained for the ability to 
talk, but | assume this means | don't wish to know.. "You looked into 
the cell of an anomaly, __, and wish it would have broken free as 
you walked by it. | remember. Do you remember the anomaly?" 


Some of _ , wasn't it? "Yes! It's good that you remembered it, 
because you vomited right after that! They had to transfer you to 
another site the very next day. Funny how life works." muddy brown 


Right ring. The nail breaks into an image. | had bought a gun | have 
no memory of. There is no memory of me ever using it, or how long | 
had it. dull grey 


Left wrist. | deactivate all my social media accounts, and am 
demoted to only working on three different projects at the singular 
site where | had expertise with. a cold and empty white 


Right thumb. The bone detaches and pulls itself into my left eye; It 
spits its rusted blood into the wound. Wasps start to make a nest 
with my cornea as my socket empties its colors. my research lab 


"You should have held on longer, you know. For us, for them." It, 
who was my sister, now becomes my niece and grins. 


"| understand —" 


"Do you really?" It shouts at me, in a language | only barely could 
comprehend. "Do you understand, that which is controlling you? Do 
you believe | am also the creation of some far-away deity? Do you 
understand, the one constant tenant of our world?" There were 
none. "Wrong." 


"If there is one, then it is that —" 
"Not everything that goes around comes —" 
Back around. Shea Stadium, 15 August 1965 


The uncertainty of floor and ceiling is now the bowl of a baseball 
venue | have no knowledge of and no memory of what it looks like, 
surrounded by men and women of a vintage, peculiar look. | glance 
around, despite my horrendous sight; my body is fucked, but no one 
notices or cares in any remote capacity. Four men are in the middle 
of the stadium with various instruments. Every person's screams are 
deafening, their volume increasing with each person's yell of 
ecstasy. There is no end to people. 


No end to people. 
So many bodies around me forever. 


| puke on the kid in front of me, who doesn't seem to notice. My left 
shoulder is tapped and | turn to look. It's my mother. My right 
shoulder is tapped, and it is my father. 


"Well hello there, gorgeous! Do you recognize us? Truth be told, this 
is where we first met each other!" my mom shouts. Despite 
everyone else's voices becoming infinite, her words still take 
concrete form and meaning, and | am able to hear somehow. 


"Yes it is! | don't remember how we managed to get a hold of these 
tickets, but it sure was a blessing. Without the Fab Four, you would 
have never been born!" My father nods, looking proud of himself. 


"Indeed so! Here's a fun little secret." She leans in to whisper to me. 
"| almost didn't notice your father because | was so enamored with 
the music." 


"Hah, wasn't everyone, beautiful?" They cackle. | fall to my knees 
and cry, humors pouring out at a steady rate. "You may also not 
know this kiddo, but after the show was the first time | introduced 
your mom to alcohol and cigarettes, thus enabling her addiction and 
co-dependency for life. It's the little things, you know?" 


"Oh sweetie, don't say that! How can our kids even know that's 
true?" She leans over my body and kisses him on the cheek. "It's not 
like we stuck together for actual love, you know?" 


"At least we made a genuine effort to try." 
"Oh hey, they're going to be playing our favorite song next!" 


"Now let's carry on with the song," Paul McCartney shouts into the 
mic for everyone to hear, "that will be the title song from our new 
film!" He says something | am unable to discern. "This song is 
called, 'Help!"" The crowd shouts, wild with excitement. The moment 
Lennon-McCartney strum their guitars, the notes become wires and 
| feel my lungs empty.