They met. She wrapped her arms around him, and his around her. 
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, blinding her to everything but 
the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, the texture of his 
jacket, the smell of coffee and old books, that gut feeling of 
belonging. Here. Right here. Home, right here. 


Home. Home. Home. 


She buried her face in his shoulder and shook with laughter and 
sobs, and she cried. She held him close, and showered him with 
kisses, and she cried. She looked into his gentle eyes and saw that 
he too was crying. 


Home. 

“You got old, Salah,” she sniffed, blinking at her tears. 
“| hope that’s not a problem.” 

“I’m not letting go.” 

“Not ever?” 

“Never ever.” 


Mary-Ann rested her head back on his shoulder and closed her 
eyes. Everything was still. The night was soft. Moments passed, 
mountain-bone heavy. Time seemed to have lost all of its 
pretensions of before and behind, and was content to remain. 


Together. Home. 


Mary-Ann lifted her head, and looked back into her husband's eyes. 
He looked younger now, closer to the Salah she married. Still had a 
little bit more grey around the temples, though. She didn’t mind. 


“Okay, | don’t think you’re going to vanish. I'll let you go now.” 


Salah laughed. Mary-Ann let go, but only with her arms. He didn’t 
vanish. 


“Do you have plans for tonight?” He asked, taking her hand in his. 
She could feel the ring still on his finger. 


“Only the ones that involve you.” 
“| like those plans.” 


Above their heads, a great celestial squid with a mane of nebuli 
twisted across the star-spilled sky. It was good to see stars again, 
instead of the thick smoke-and-blood smears of hell. 


There was stillness. Creation was cold, and it was 
empty. 


“But, before we do anything, there’s someone here to see you,” 
Salah said, motioning off into the night. Mary-Ann followed his finger 
to see a figure emerge from the darkness: A woman, short and wire- 
thin. Close-cut, dirty-blonde hair. Darkish skin, splotched with 
splashes of bright red. 


Mary-Ann stared for a moment. Realization crumbled her heart into 
a painful dust. 


“Fuck...” she croaked. “I thought | was done crying today.” 
“Hi, Mom,” the woman said, waving a little awkwardly. 


Whatever Mary-Ann wanted to say in response, the words where 
stuck in her throat. 


“Go to her,” Salah murmured in her ear, but her feet remained 
rooted to the stones. Her mind flared with once-buried feelings. The 
horrible heat of a furnace. The crackling of burning tinder. The smell 


of charring flesh. The cries of her baby girl as she burned. 
“Naomi...” 
“Yeah. It’s me.” 


To look was painful — a horrible, aching, dreading pain in the soul. 
Mary-Ann clenched her eyes tight, buried her face in her hands, 
shuddering as the tears came anew. 


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the mantra 
spilled out, over and over again. 


She felt thin arms hold her... 

“It’s all right, mom. | love you.” 

The briefest and smallest of whispers. 
“Love you too...” 

...and then let go... 


Mary-Ann opened her eyes, and saw her-daughter face to face. 
Naomi was older than she was — there were strands of silver in that 
hair, age lines around her eyes and mouth — but in those eyes she 
saw all the other Naomis. The little girl with curly hair and twiggy 
arms filled with books. The dirty-faced youth with the patched jacket 
and cap, shoes muddy and gun in hand. The clean-cut teen with 
slender glasses. The stern young woman. The stalwart mother. 
Mary-Ann wiped at her eyes again. Her daughter's scars had faded. 


“Look at you... all grown up and respectable,” she said. 
“You helped a lot.” 

“| tried to kill y-” 

“You saved me. End of story.” 


Yeah, Mary-Ann supposed that would be it. End of the story. That 
was a good ending. 


“You might not have been around, but | looked up to you,” Naomi 
continued. “I didn’t want to let you down." 


“Oh stop it.” Mary-Ann punched her daughter in the arm. “That's just 
overkill.” 


“I mean it!” 
“| Know you do, kiddo. | know you do.” 


In the stillness, Isabel smiled. Flickers of the first fire 
danced and swirled in her eyes, spinning about like 
galaxies. There was a warm wind upon the throne, and it 
smelled of summer. 


Out of the corner of her eye, Mary-Ann spotted a quartet of other 
figures lingering in the background, who had gone unnoticed in all 
the excitement. A huge man built like the offspring of a grizzly bear 
and freight train, with a beard that bent down to his waist, two 
teenage girls (the older one tall and plump, the younger one short 
and thin), and a young boy who looked to have singed his eyebrows 
off. 


“Who's the Viking?” she asked. 
“My husband,” Naomi answered. 


Mary-Ann paused for a moment, before grinning and hoisting her 
daughter off the ground with a tight hug. “THAT’S MY GIRL!” 


“Ack? 


“Sorry, sorry!” She put her daughter down, and cast a glance over to 
over to her newfound son-in-law and grandchildren. “They are not 
calling me grandma.” 


“We can arrange that.” 
Isabel closed her eyes, inhaled...and breathed out. 


And there was fire. 


SCP-754: Illustrated Climbing Vine 


Item #: SCP-754 


Object Class: Euclid (Request for Keter classification under review, 
20 //) 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-754 is to be kept under 
constant surveillance in a Bio-Hazard Containment Chamber. The 
room must be equipped with a liquid nitrogen emergency coolant 
system. A shallow planter of standard potting soil has been placed 
next to SCP-754 to provide a "target zone" for germination events. 


No instances of SCP-754 are to be retained outside of use in 
sanctioned experiments. Material containing SCP-754-1 may be 
incinerated. 


To dispose of SCP-754, the room must be sealed and liquid nitrogen 
piped in until the ambient temperature has been at or below 150 K 
for a minimum of fifteen (15) minutes. SCP-754, any surrounding 
soil, and all instances of SCP-754-1 shall be incinerated, save one 
paper fragment of approximately twenty-five (25) square 
centimetres, which is to be treated as "seed stock" with a freshly- 
illustrated sheet. If SCP-754 germinates from a location other than 
the provided planter, the site should be sterilized with hydrochloric 
acid. In the event of containment system failure of SCP-754, its 
growth will be inhibited by temperatures below 250 K until 
automated systems are restored. 


One (1) standard sheet of paper with hand-drawn illustrations is to 
be placed on the table as needed. Current procedures call for the 
replacement and disposal of the oldest illustration once the newer 
sheet shows evidence of buds; at the current rate of growth, 
replacement should occur every two to three days. If this rate is 
observed to increase, notify the level 3 supervisor (as of 20 / / , 
Doctor Cairns). Under no circumstances are any SCP objects 
containing hand-drawn illustrations to be allowed within twenty (20) 


She inhaled...and breathed out. 

And there was a song. 
“Well, Salah? Anyone else ready to pop up out of the woodwork?” 
“No, | think this is everyone.” 


“Awesome. Come on over, guys!” she shouted out to her new 
extended family. “Don't be shy!” 


There was a gathering, and hugs and laughs and names and stories 
and a few more tears. The moon shone high above, and after a 
while the family began to walk down the road into the hills. They did 
not know where they were headed, but the tugging of their hearts 
drew them along. 


There was a little house on a hill. The lights were on. 


In the Fire, and in the Song, there was Wonder. Ways 
bloomed out from the Fire and Song and spread out 
across the waste and void. Though they were long and 
winding paths, they were strong and safe, well suited to 
the pilgrim souls that would soon tread upon them. This 
was the final wonder to be made, not by Isabel's hands 
alone, but by the hands of all her forebears, across all 
times and worlds and peoples. A final work. 


Home. 


The end of the world went like this: Everyone lived happily ever 
after. 


War On All Fronts - Hub 


Thanks to Mendelssohn for this image. 


| don't think I'll ever forget that day when the apocalypse 
crawled out of the sea. 


At least, that's how it felt back then at the moment. | was 
on the beachfront, and the kraken surged out of the 
water, crashing into the city itself. From where | was 
standing at the time it felt like the whole world was about 
to end. 


I'd never seen anything like, and | still haven't to this day. 
That thing was practically ripped from a kaiju movie, 
hundreds of feet tall and absolutely monstrous. You ever 
seen anything else with both arms and tentacles, not to 
mention five of each? | didn't think so. 


That thing destroyed Hy-Brasil. Yeah, | know that it didn't 
actually do too much to the city, but it crippled the city to 
the point where it'd never get better. I've stayed behind 
because | can't imagine leaving, but this city hasn't been 
the same since the attack. 


Hell, that's not even counting all of the fallout and 
complications resulting from the event. | still see MC&D 
churning out ads to sell the caviar they ripped from the 
squid twenty years later. Twenty years! And from what | 
hear, they've got enough stock left over to last them 
another twenty. 


It makes sense, | suppose. Hy-Brasil practically was the 
anomalous community at the time, and everybody who 
was living here at the time felt it's impact. It's not really 


odd that everybody who lived here would try to make 
something out of it, and get the most out of an awful 
situation like that. 


I'm not sure if we'll ever stop talking about it. 


-Testimony from Fodla Ernmasson, lifelong Hy-Brasil resident, 2008 


A previously unknown anomalous entity, now known by many 
names: 


LTE-0851-Cetus. The Crocodilian Kraken. The Crocosquid. The 
Reptilic Cephalopod. The Colossal Aquamorph Entity. The Dread 
Behemoth. *-4« 6 *. The Squid Ispolin. Crocoteuthis gigantis. 
UAE-Brasil-78. The Tokage-tako. The Quin Krake. The 
Plokamisuchus. 


The thing that destroyed Hy-Brasil. 


There are some events that change the world, events of such great 
magnitude that everyone alive feels their impact. 


Not all of these events occur in the mundane world. 


On June 13th, 1988, a three hundred foot tall monster crawled out of 
the waters surrounding a mystical island out of Irish myth and 
besieged the land before it was killed. In the aftermath, the island 
was left ruined and desolate. 


But the story doesn't end there. The fallout and the aftermath of this 
event still continues to this day. Powerful groups attempted to exploit 
the events of that day, bending what happened to their own myth. 
There are not many commonalities within the anomalous 
community, but one was forged upon that day. 


Antecedent 


* Nx-03 by stormbreath 


Attack 


LTE-0851-Cetus by stormbreath 
A Foul Storm in a Fair Land by DrChandra 


Aftermath 


* 'Kaiju Caviar’ (OCN39/T5FG6/7HJL2) by DrChandra 


1. Thieves Come In Fives by Sir Baubius 
2. A Place In The Back Of Your Mind by Sir Baubius 
3. Occult Standards by Sir Baubius 


Herman Fuller Presents: The Dread Behemoth by DrChandra 
Restless Dreams by RecursiveRecursion 

UIU File: 1988-021 by Baseplate-Actual 

GRU-P casefile "SQUID ISPOLIN" by stormbreath 


Academics 


Analysis of the Plokamisuchus by stallmantic and DrChandra 
About Deer College by chOObakka 


Some Foundation canons focus on different worlds, with great 


differences from the "core canon" of the SCP-verse. Others focus on 
different groups of interest, or branches of the Foundation. This one 
is a bit different - it focuses on a singular event and the aftermath of 
it. 


War on All Fronts is a canon that exists in a mostly traditional view 
of the SCP-universe. It's less of a "different world" but an overaching 
plotline that exists in a standard interpretation of the SCP-verse. All 
of the major Gols are in play, they all act according to their normal 
plan. The Masquerade exists, and everything is, (for the most part) 
normal. 


War on All Fronts deals with a kaiju attack, occuring in 1988. This 
attack was devastating, and destroyed one of the largest anomalous 
freeport cities in the world. Almost every major Group of Interest got 
involved, and everyone wants a slice of the action. 


This was originally concieved as a project to incorporate one 
document of every Gol into a single, cohesive narrative, and evolved 
from that. While the eventual and ideal goal would be to have every 
single Gol format as a part of the canon, that's not the current plan. 


Right now, this is an attempt to create a living, breathing world. The 
world of War on All Fronts is highly interconnected, and intertwined. 
Events that happen are refrequently cross-referenced, and 
everything blends together into a fluid world. This is an exercise in 
cohesive worldbuilding. 


The Fivesquid: Our monster, the central point of the canon. By the 
time it attacks Hy-Brasil, it is a three hundred foot tall, firebreathing 
crocodile/squid monster. There are implications in that the GOC and 
SCP articles that it was either magical or divine, to some degree. 


It was originally kidnapped from an unknown universe by a group of 
researchers from the Alexylva Universe, for a Jurassic Park type 
zoo. An unknown group of belligerents attacked that zoo, and the 
Alexylva people ended up abandoning their park and sending it 
elsewhere - to our universe. It's also quite probably either/both 
divine and Fifthist in some regard. 


Notably, the Fivesquid had several million eggs. Most of these were 
collected by Marshall, Carter and Dark (along with the body) and 
sold off as caviar, but some were not. A few of the eggs reacted 
poorly to a Sarkic ritual, and hatched into baby kaiju. 


Names: 

One of the "things" about this canon is that every 
different faction has their own name for the fivesquid. If 
you write for a different perspective, please create a new 
name that represents that faction/group, and then add it 
above and below: 


¢ LTE-0851-Cetus, Crocodilian Kraken - Global 

Occult Coalition 

Crocosquid - Anomalous civilians/media 

Reptilic Cephalopod - Unusual Incidents Unit 

Colossal Aquamorph Entity - Marshall, Carter and 

Dark 

¢ Dread Behemoth - Herman Fuller's Circus of the 
Disquieting 

° &-¢«6 «/Tiamat - Oneiroi dreamers 

Squid Ispolin - GRU P 

Crocoteuthis gigantis - Prometheus Labs 

UAE-Brasil-78 - the Foundation 

¢ the angels - Fifthists 

¢ the Tokage-tako - |IJAMEA 

¢ The Quin Krake - Serpent's Hand 

Plokamisuchus - International Center for the Study 

of Unified Thaumatology 


Hy-Brasil: Hy-Brasil is a mythological island in Irish folklore, off the 
coast of Ireland. It can only be reached for one day in every seven 
years, but certain beings - gods, monsters, faeries - can get there all 
the time. Unfortunately for them, the Fivesquid was one of these 
beings. 


Hy-Brasil was an major focal point of the anomalous world, with 
pretty much every Gol having operated out of the island, with the full 
blessing of the monarchy. However, the kaiju attack destroyed the 
place and left it desolate, resulting in it rapidly dropping in notoriety. 


Tuatha Dé Danann: Irish, elvish, fae. Very similar to baseline 
humans, with a few minor differences. All are low level Type Greens, 
many are also moderate Type Blues. Had previously inhabited the 
mainland of Ireland before a retreat to Hy-Brasil in 1468. After the 
fall of Hy-Brasil, a small number remain on Hy-Brasil, but most 
disperse to other places worldwide.