A new researcher, while digging through Dr. Vang's stuff, found the 


long-forgotten stone. It is, technically, an SCP, albeit not designated 
any object class or number. The incompetent researcher didn't find 
any anomalous properties and just disposed of it. The Foundation 
moved on to more important stuff; after all, who cares about a dingy 
stone with a four line report? The rock was tossed aside, along with 
other regular Foundation garbage. 


Soon, small problems started to pop up. A delivery that was 
supposed to arrive in a week took half a month due to decreased 
flights. An episode of a show was delayed months because of a lack 
of personnel. A highway that was planned to be built in 6 months 
dragged into several years. But no one noticed, it was all within 
normal. After all, wnat human doesn't make mistakes? We are 
fallible, after all. They aren't huge problems anyways. 


A few years before my retirement | learned that the Foundation 
recovered the original stone along with several hundred identical 
stones from a secretive extremist group akin to the Chaos 
Insurgency. The group laid hands on it after the botched disposal; 
they found the cause of the stone's properties, and mass produced 
the stone. It was then sold to several other activist groups, who 
started secretly planting these stones into UN assemblies, G20 
meetings, every conference for major organizations from APEC to 
NATO. Stealth planes flew over municipals, sprinkling cities with a 
thin layer of ground-up procrastinati in the dead of night. An attempt 
to weaken the major world players and bring down democracy. The 
world still went on, day by day, and humanity held itself together. 
The leaders continued to maintain peace with the extremists, and 
the ones who once believed that it can bring them victory were 
disappointed once again. There were no immediate effects, and the 
extremists soon turned to other means of bringing down their 
enemies. 


The shadow of the stone lingered, seeping into the lives of every 
man, an effect that no one foresaw. 


People all around complained about the general slag, but were just 
too apathetic to stand up for it. There's always someone else to 
blame, some other time to do it. Bills took years to pass, buildings 
took decades to build, and yet, no one seemed to care enough to fix 
it. Soon, activist groups fell apart due to lack of interest. Labor 


unions dissolved because no one had the will to fight for rights. 
Members of parliament bodies were still elected, but there were no 
bills to pass, no issue to debate, no conflict to resolve. Wars ended 
because the soldiers on both sides had lost the passion and 
patriotism that brought them there. The O5 council tried to prevent 
the spread of this phenomenon, to start the recovery, to let humanity 
stand back up on its feet, but no matter how hard they tried, the 
agents and researchers simply dragged the missions on for years. 


We didn't die out. We just simply lost our will to improve. 
Everyone just... didn't care, | guess. Life was good. Why change? 


There's always later. 


Why is Five afraid of Seven? 


The God of Unknowable stands proudly in the Great Void, and 
hungers for those existing. The Fifth Coming is imminent, and those 
blind and weak have worshiped the edges of his existence. But he 
dares not venture into the realm of the Lord of Non-Existent, with 
whom he shares the same void. The Lord of Non-Existent rests in 
her black, silent corner, her seven horns that are not there call for 
Negation. The God of Unknowable fears the likes of her, and seeks 
their destruction. The former has an unspeakable name, the latter 
with no name existing. 


The dark clouds gathered, bolts of lightning twisting down, and the 
ocean roared in response. Rain drops rushed down, scratching the 
deck and people on it. But the crowd didn’t seek shelter, and the 
cruise ship sailed steadily forward. 


On the horizon, a dark island could be spotted afar. An island made 
of dark, bare rocks, with seven tall mountains, rose high above. A 
slumbering beast with its black bones exposed, protruding from its 
enormous body. Amidst the great thunders and the turbulent sea, 
the mountains were silent. And if they were to grow eerie eyes, they 
would look judgingly at those sailing towards them. 


A woman stood alone at the deck, facing the crowd. Her blonde hair 
mismatched by the long, coal-black robe. The scars on her face 
were long and ugly, and told of her torment. She held up a book, 
one with a shiny green star on it. Then she laughed and tossed the 
book into the sea. It was swallowed by the waves in an instant. The 
crowd gasped, and the rain poured, streaming down her face like 
tears. 


“Sister!” a man shouted, “This is madness!” 


More voices joined the man, reciting the fifth glory, chanting the 
virtues of smoke and calling for the stars to come forth. But the dark 


clouds were thick, and no light was shed. The crowd was disturbed, 
but their voices drowned out by the rain and the thunders. 


They accused her of harming the flow of energy. They accused her 
of hatred and disbelief. They accused her of existence. 


But she smiled, hearing the faint voice of her persecutor coming 
from the bowels of the ship. Even during a storm, the voice seemed 
crystal clear: “May their names and memories be obliterated! For 
they have called upon the false lord!” She could almost make out 
hands scratching on the cell door, desperate but futile. 


“Five,” she said, and the crowd quieted down, their attentions 
pointing at her once again, like sharp thorns of doubt and poison. 
“Five is indeed a number of grandness, but it is not the number of 
our Lord.” 


The crowd was disturbed once again, but they were interrupted by a 
giant thunderbolt, striking inches away from the deck. The ship 
shook, the crowd panicked, but the woman didn’t move. 


“It is two numbers short from true greatness, as Seven excludes 
them all!” She laughed. “The Colorless Green is not the true color, 
for now we shall praise the Horned Black!” 


“Nonsense!” one of them shouted in protest, and began to cite the 
verses from their Book of the Past Stars. “The first one was Saint 
Protor, who pointed upwards and reached the stars; the second one 
was the One that Speaks Not, but showed us the Signal and taught 
us cosmos; the third was Brother Terres, who breathed out the 
Smoke, granting us the shapes of souls; the fourth was Sister 
Susan, who held the true color in her hand, one only eyes cannot 
see; and the Fifth was the Great Horace, who stood by the 
bottomless pit and introduced the face of God.” 


As he cited the holy text, it was as if the rain was slowed down, and 
the lighting had ceased. The sea roared, not of horrifying anger, but 
in a way that harbors strange, alien things deep beneath. The island 
now seemed smaller, shrouded by mists, dark and distant. But the 
woman, standing alone, laughed again at the crowd. 


“But the sixth one has abandoned his name, and holds the Tomb 
that curses and denies, its sharp teeth grind through masks and lies; 
and the Seventh one has her name lost in Lord’s realm, and hands 
over the dark emblem that negates.” With her laughter, the mist was 
suddenly clear, and the things beneath the great waters seemed to 
have been torn to pieces brutally. And the increasing rain beats and 
the cracks of lighting are almost like their dying screams. 


“Heretic!” a woman shouted, “You will—” Several were about to join 
her, but she stopped mid-sentence, and began to scream. The 
crowd was silent again, this time fearful. 


She ignored the struggling women, and proceeded. “I pay no mind 
to you, for you are but ignorant beasts. | know that six others are 
dancing with me, that the dead stars are dead, that the sea shall 
devour, that the smoke smells of black coal, that the color is 
darkness, cold and silence. It is because the truth was not revealed, 
but | am now revealed to the Lord that is not.” 


The crowd shifted, but didn’t dare to move away as they watched 
the one struggling on the ground become motionless and silent. 


“You have brought me here, towards the hole at the bottom of the 
sea, for | will not adhere to your false god of five.” She smiled. “But 
here also stands the Seven Mountains of Thorns, the New Abode.” 


As she said this, bolts of lighting struck, one after another. The 
darkness momentarily faded, as flashes of light moved towards the 
island. The island was still far on the horizon, but the jagged 
mountains seemed closer, and had grown pitch black horns. 


The people on the deck held each other tightly in fear. Their prayers 
to their God of Fifth escaped their minds. Six others come forth from 
the crowd, three men, three women. One of them carried an 
obsidian amulet, in the shape of a seven pointed star. 


“| have searched for the item of my Lord, the symbol of destiny, from 
the forgotten corners of the Library to the dead silent center of the 
Earth,” she said as she was handed the item. 


The crowd screamed, as the dark clouds rained down ever so 


fiercely; as the seven dark mountains drew near in an instant; as the 
sea shattered in pain, revealing a enormous hole underneath the 
ship. 


“This is my trail, and this is the day that we welcome our Lord!” She 
laughed, and put the seven-pointed star around her neck. “This is— 


“Um, curious,” one agent commented as he examined a small black 
box. 


“Yeah?” The other one turned his head. “What is it?” 


“Some jewelry box,” the agent answered. “Judging by the shape 
inside, this thing used to hold a seven-pointed star.” 


“Really? Aren't these guy obsessed with five or something?” 


“Yeah, that’s the strange part. And there’s a note here.” He began to 
read. “Why is five afraid of seven?” 


“Isn't the joke ‘Why is six afraid of seven?” 


“Yeah, because seven ate nine. But who knows, madman logic | 
suppose.” 


The two agents shrugged it off, and proceeded to sort through the 
items on the large cruise ship. The sea around them was calm, and 
the water was clear. 


Disclaimer: these characters aren’t mine! This is a total work of 
fiction! | promise, | didn’t secretly sneak into the SCP world and 
record what they were doing...rofl!!! 


Gears: Yes you did! 


A/n: Who let you in here?? *shoos him away* ANYWHO ENJOYYY'! 


One day everyone was sitting in the employee lounge. The 
employee lounge was gross, it was all linoleum and the lights 
washed out everyone’s skin tone, plus they were all bored. 
Everyone was sitting with their friends at different tables, only they 
weren't like cliques, they just didn’t have a big table. 


“Guys, I’m bored,” Gears groaned, banging his head on the table. 
He was sitting with Iceberg and Zyn. 


“| don’t care,” Iceburg said standoffishly. “I’m going to do shots like a 
normal person.” 


“I’m gonna eat a butterfly!” Zyn exclaimed, and then she did. 


In the corner, something shimmered around a doctor without a 
name. “Oh, what fresh hell is this,” she muttered. 


“No one cares, Zyn,” Iceberg chuckled darkly as he finished his 12th 
shot. 


Zyn yelled, “Now I’m gonna eat a Greek myth!” 


“Oh shit, oh no,” the nameless doctor gasped. “Hey, yes | do have a 
name, it’s—” 


“Guys, someone’s coming!” Clef said, from another table. Everyone 


creature and in fact has made gestures suggesting it 
wants to “play” with SCP-682 again. SCP-682, however, 
has stated, “That feculent little snot wad can [DATA 
EXPUNGED] and die." 


Memo from Dr. _ : “While the test was unsuccessful and ended in 
tragedy, that had to be the funniest thing | have ever seen. | never 
thought I’d see the day when | would regard SCP-682 as “cute”. 
Please send me a copy of the security tapes ASAP.” 


« SCP-998 | SCP-999 | SCP-1000 » 


stood up to look at the door. 


Standing in the door was The Administrater and a girl none of them 
knew, but who was easily the most beautiful girl any of them had 
ever laid eyes on. She had long red hair, dark deep blue eyes, and 
skin like porcelain except for a mole on her lip. 


“Guys,” the Admininstrator said, shaking back his long black hair, 
“this is Dr. Fiorella Anastasia Artemis Leandra D’Marcus. She’s new, 
and | want her to feel welcome here. She used to work for the 
Pentagon, and she solved cold fusion. Come introduce yourselves.” 
No one moved, except Zyn, who was still chewing on the Greek 
myth. 


(A/N: OKAY last time | posted this story, everyone got mad and said 
she was a Mary Sue but she’s NOT! SHE HAS A MOLE! SHE HAS 
A TON OF FLAWS, OKAY?! DO NOT DELETE THIS AGAIN PLS) 


“No, no way,” the nameless doctor murmured. “I’m—oh no.” 


“I’m so happy to meet you all,” Dr. D’Marcus murmured. “Do you all 
have a chess set? I’m wonderful at chess, but | can’t cook. I’m not 
perfect, kawaii desu!” she said cutely. 


Finally, Dr. Lowen Alphonse Davison Augustin Jakobs Atreides 
Lemuria Agloval Silberescher, Baron of [REDACTED], Lord 
Knowledge, Savior of Ocelots, Spellshaper of the Boros Legion, and 
Keeper of the Sacred Chao, known alternately as "L6", “Alfie”, 
“Davey”, “Augie”, "Aggie", “Jake”, “Lemmy”, “Doc”, "Ladajalas", and 
"Old Sliderule", stood and went to her. She didn’t look at him when 
he walked over, but when he got closer she did. 


“Hello,” he whinnied warmly. “My name is Dr. Lowen Alphonse—” 


“We heard it the first time!” Dr. Bright jeered, but Dr. Icepick stabbed 
him in the throat to make him be quiet. 


“Fuck!” the nameless doctor yelled, jumping away as blood started 
gushing out of Bright’s throat like a water fountain, but blood. “You 
can’t just kill him! He—wait. Can you hear me?” the nameless doctor 
asked. “And stop calling me the nameless doctor, my name is Dr. 


DeMarcus! /’m Dr. DeMarcus!” 


“OMG, no you’re not!” cheered Dr. Rights, jumping up and running 
to the REAL Dr. Fiorella Anastasia Artemis Leandra D’Marcus’s 
side. “This is the rea/ Dr. D’Marcus! And she’s my best friend!” 


“If | may,” Silber intoned, and his voice was super deep and his lab 
coat rippled. He turned and smouldered at the real Dr. D’Marcus. 
“M'lady,” he said, bowing deep like a gentleman, “if | may, can | 
escort you to the Doctor’s Prom this evening?” 


“Oh, I’ve never been asked to a dance before,” Dr. D’Marcus 
breathed, tripping (a/n: and she’s clumsy, see) into his arms. She 
looked up at him with limpid pools. “I! would be so honored.” 


“This has to be a bad dream,” the fake loser doctor wept. “I’m not 
fucking weeping!” she cried, big ugly tears for a big ugly person. 


Silber strode to the fake doctor’s side and struck her. “How dare you 
speak to my girlfriend like that!” he yelled. 


“| didn’t say anything to her!” the fake moaned. 


Silber raised his hand and said, “Don’t make me strike back!” (a/n: 
THAT’S WHERE | GOT THE TITLE!! ITS NOT RANDOM) then 
turned to everyone else. “We must pity this poor person, because 
she’s very sad and demented. We should put her on Keter duty.” 


“KETER DUTY! everyone shouted all at once. 


“What the hell is Keter duty?!” the dummy whined, and everyone but 
Fiorella and Silber whisked her away, but she was screaming the 
whole time. 


Finally alone, Silber strode to Dr. Fiorella and took her face in his big 
hands. “I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, ever,” he said 
in his dark, deep voice. 


“Yes you have, because I’m not perfect,” Fiorella swooned in a non- 
Mary-Sue-ish way. 


“Would you like to become a baroness?” 


“Yes! | would love to!” 


And then they kissed, their tongues intermingling like eels. The 
Admonisher was watching and gave them a thumbs up because he 
was a little gay for Silber, but not too gay. But little did they know, 

Dr. Icepack was watching too, and he had his fingertips together and 
light was shining off his glasses. He thought Fiorella was so 
beautiful, and while he watched them kiss, he said, “You will be 
mine.”