Canon Hub » What a Wonderful World Hub / Those Twisted Pines Hub » Take It Away, My Darling » Fae Goes to the Shelter

Chapter I.XIV

"Ma'am, are you aware you're heading to Boring?"
"What even kind of question is that. Yes, I'm fully aware."
I was parked on the side of a paved but not particularly maintained woodland road, somewhere up in Oregon. I wasn't usually so irritable — had I stopped for anything but gas since leaving from San Diego?
"Any particular reason you're headed there?"
"Look, do you need license and registration? I can take a speeding ticket, I have been a little antsy and that might have come through as speed."
The officer paused. I tried to read his expression, but found that strangely difficult. He was an average man, by no means extraordinary, but something about him is impossible to put into writing. It only really struck me after the fact, when I tried to describe him to people, but in the moment it barely even registered.
"Yes, license and registration please."
I dutifully pulled my license out of my pocket and handed it to the officer, and was then fishing for the registration from my glove box when:
"Faeowynn Wilson?"
"Yes?"
"Relation to Tim Wilson?"
"Uh — yes, actually."
"Nevermind," he passed me back my license, "have a safe trip."
"Wha—" but he had already begun to walk away. I leaned out the window to yell at him: "But what was I pulled over for?"
He nonchalantly waved a hand at me without turning around, got into his patrol car, and pulled a U-turn to speed off. I watched until he was out of sight around a turn, and then rolled up my window. Huh, wow, I thought to myself. The police up here really are as strange as Tim said. Good to know.
And then I pulled back onto the road, and nearly forgot the whole thing ever happened.

* * * * *

I don't know if there is a perfect way to describe just how surprising it was when I finally saw the Wilson's Wildlife Solutions building. Whatever the consensus may be about how large a wildlife shelter typically is, the avocado- and mint-green building was several times bigger than that. To say it was imposing would be wrong — it was all-in-all a very welcoming aesthetic. The style of walls I would almost call Mexican; that same texture, just if it were green, but the pueblo look of those somehow rounded ninety-degree angles and flat, shingle-less rooftops. It was on top of a not insignificant wooded hill, conspicuously tucked behind a more residential area, making it not only an unusually large building, but an unusually secluded one — like an inner city office crammed wherever there was space for it. On a cursory glance, I counted two stories, but it filled out on the sides so far that the Pentagon came to mind.
I pulled into their dirt parking lot, that somehow had streetlights but not pavement, and sat in my parked car for a moment simply to appreciate what had been built here. In the wake of such a structure, the last thing that came to mind was "nonprofit". What sly businessman was Tim to have made something so large out of something by nature so small? They clearly had money to spare — the sign pronouncing loud and clear Wilson's Wildlife Solutions looked like multilayered metal, with chocolate-brown for the letters and a design of white-green leaves behind it. If I were a citizen in this town who donated to the Shelter, I would have to wonder where my money was going, to be quite frank.
I got out of my car and made my way up a small cobblestone path that led to the entrance, taking note of another road that came out of the parking lot and led around the back. I assumed such a street would be used to load and unload animals, and deploy whatever vehicles they had.
The front doors were glass, flourished with the same white leaf pattern as a trim along the sides, and brown silhouettes of animals dotted around.
I pressed my hand against the glass, and hesitated at some mental block. But then, I pushed through. The lobby was more reasonably sized, I felt, though it had an exhorbitant number of what looked like hunting trophies, except that plaques gave them all names. And were they imported? Familiar to Northern America were the bald eagle, deer, brown bear, and river otter, but I also spied an ostrich, spider monkey, and was that an elephant seal?
"Hello, how may I help you?"
My attention snapped to the sole receptionist, a chubby woman with straight brown hair and an inviting smile (as all good receptionists have). I walked to the desk and saw that she had a crutch leaning against the counter, and was actually sitting in a very high chair, despite the appearance of standing one might get when coming through the front door.
"Hello, ah," I read her name tag, "Sarah. I'm Faeowynn Wilson, and I'm here to see my dad."
"Oh! Fae! I've heard a lot about you!"
I smiled politely. "I'm sure you have."
"Tim's office is right this way." She started to fumble to her feet.
"Oh, no, if you could just direct me, you don't have to, uhh…"
"Don't worry, don't worry. I'm supposed to walk on it."
"Oh, heh, okay." She started down the hallway to my right, her left, and I followed close behind, making sure not to outpace her. "So, what's with all the animals in the lobby?"
"Those are our 'dearly departed', animals who died in our care but not before they made a home in our hearts. The star of the show is definitely Copper. He's going to be right in the middle of the lobby once we get a little fountain up."
"And what was with the, uhh… the ostrich?"
"Oh, Miracle Jr.? What about her?"
I screwed my face at that remark, but decided just to brush it off. "What's so special about Copper?"
"Our taking care of him was sort of the turning point for our whole organization. Pushed us more towards the care side of things than the capture, recuperate, and release. We're now both a hospital and a home, for those we can't let back out. I'm sure you know all that already, though. Tim never told you about Copper?"
I briefly remembered that conversation I had with both my mom and Tim, over half a decade ago. "It came up once. I must have forgotten."
"Mhmm. He's just about the most important animal we've ever had in our care. Well, the one remembered fondly. You must know of… well, you know." Sarah pointed at her mangled right leg. "I actually lost this in the same blast that took out Copper. Copper died but looks pristine. I live but I've got a lot of healing to do. Thankfully I've been befriending a healing rabbit, Apple, but she's one of those that we're going to release back into the wild soon. They've actually just extended her stay because of me. I feel a bit bad about it."
Red flags were going off left and right. I had no clue what the response would be if I asked about the crazier parts of her story, but I suddenly realized that "healing" must have meant "therapeutic", and relaxed a little bit. "What, uh, what blast?"
"You don't know…? The polar bear?"
What the fuck is she talking about, I thought. Some of that thought must have come across in my look, because she at once wore a dejected expression, and turned away from me. "Um, here is Tim's office." She turned around instantly, and hobbled back down the corridor, towards the front desk. Sure enough, this was Tim's office — a cocoa door with his name on it and everything.
Worrying thoughts shot through my head, but they were non-committal in every way. They were only worrying because I was worried. First among them was, what is going on here? and the rest that followed were a fractal, twisting and expounding on the first thought, coming in on themselves and then elaborating for infinity. There was no end. No conclusion. I couldn't think of a single answer that would truly solve what I was seeing and experiencing.
"You should visit him sometime," Mom had said. Was this what she saw? I considered my mom a well-grounded person. This was not a well-grounded scenario.
But, then again, I considered her well-grounded, and she had visited. She'd come back from this, and I had noticed nothing significantly different. She was fine. I would be fine. And I needed to talk to Tim. Alright then. I breathed in deep. I stretched my back. I placed a hand on the knob, and I opened the door.
Inside was an office, just as I expected it. There was an irregularly-shaped natural-wood desk, highly polished but still with all the rings and protrusions of the tree it was cut from, in the middle of the room. On the walls were shelves upon shelves, filled both with files and with personality, such as images of people I recognized as my step-mom Alice and my half-brothers Anders and Robin. The room was made of the same greens as the entire rest of the building. I logged in my mind that this was the color palette of Tim.
But I didn't spend a long time taking this all in, as something else caught my attention. Tim was sitting behind the desk; his golden placard with his name on it sat just in front of him, next to a cup filled with pens, a mug, and a small bowl of putty. But to my left, there was another person. A man, almost militant. The first thing I thought, after considering his buzz cut, muscular build, and camouflage-green uniform, was that he might be a bodyguard.
Our eyes locked. A bodyguard? Why? This felt like my second opportunity to run. I didn't want to be there in the first place. I had come out of some feeling of obligation, like this conversation I was to have with Tim was entirely unavoidable.
"John, this is my uh, my daughter, Faeowynn Wilson. Fae, Captain John Schut."
John stood and extended a hand forcefully in my direction, which I rather timidly shook.
"Nice to meet you," John growled in a way that made me question his sincerity. He sat back down, and Tim motioned me into the seat opposite himself. I took it without speaking, all the while my brow got sorer and sorer from this look I couldn't shake off of me. This what-the-hell-is-going-on-here look.
"Did I walk in on a meeting?" I got out, slowly and carefully.
"No, no, ahh, we're both here, for you!"
"For me?"
"A-yeap," said John again, his deep powerful voice reminding me of a 60's actor I couldn't place.
"I didn't tell anyone I was coming."
"N-no, you didn't. Not except the patrolman, coming in."
I squinted. "You're paired with the police?"
"Now, now, F-Fae, look, this is starting in a strange place. If you had told people you were coming up, we could have planned this a bit better, now, but, we're rather sprung-upon, you know, and… this isn't an elegant… as elegant a meeting as I would have hoped, heheh!"
Tim winced the whole time, clenching and unclenching a fist over his chest. I looked between him and "Captain" Schut. One thing hadn't changed; I felt like Tim had a lot of explaining to do.
"Alright, then. What's going on. Tell me."
Tim sighed. "Well, no. Telling won't prove it to you. I tried that, and you… didn't believe me. Though part of that was that some of the evidence was missing. It's a long story, heheh! Ahh… but, no, you need to be shown, or else you won't believe me. So will you…?"
Tim started to get up, and looked pleadingly at me. I was standing up and following him out the door before I could think. Schut walked close behind me, as I walked close behind Tim. From the outside, I had judged that the building would have been a sprawling maze, much like I imagined any governmental establishment, but there are windows everywhere you turned and signs clearly pointing out the directions to follow. We were, apparently, headed outside, behind the building, to the enclosures. Soon we emerged, and I got a view of the building from the other side.
It is a large U, the front of the building being the bottom of the letter, and so I found myself in the clearing hugged on both sides by the arms of the headquarters; a clearing full of decorative flora, winding dirt and cobble trails, a sparse number of extraordinarily tall trees, and all throughout there are these smaller buildings. The enclosures. A dirt road makes a circle around them all, with clear convenient access to each building for loading and unloading what I imagined would be animals, feed, and miscellaneous equipment.
"You should have seen what this looked like before, the landscaping required was extraordinary, heheh!" I wondered why Tim said that, then realized I needed to shut my mouth. "We haven't talked about animals since you were a lot younger, because… you asked… so I don't know your current tastes, but, I remember you liking birds a lot, so we're going to the aviary!"
As we walked down the path, I realized that the clearing isn't even completely flat, but a little concave, like they'd made a Wilson's Wildlife crater. "The aviary is close by, too, because — hi, Feather!"
"Hello!" A young, short lady with dyed purple hair and a good many piercings was pulling a coil of hose out of the back of a mint-green van. "How are you today?"
"Wonderful! This is my, ah, daughter, F-uh, Faeowynn!"
"Your what!?"
She stopped what she was doing and came up to greet me. I stuck my hand out for a handshake, but she went in for a hug that came too quick for me to stop. "You finally visited! Tim's been talking about you coming for years."
"…Nice to meet you too, Feather."
"Feather," interjected Tim, "which bird should Fae see first?"
"I don't pick favorites and you know that."
"I know, I know. I just mean… what's the most spectacular? Craziest?"
"Craziest?"
"Yes, craziest."
"Well, that's gotta be none other than Henry."
"Henry?" I muttered.
"Henry, yes," Tim hummed in approval. "Heave-ho to Henry then!"
"You got it!"
We then started following Feather, who broke out her keys and opened the building labelled 1-5, with the subtitle aviary. Even within the first inch of the door creaking open, I began to hear the squawking, tweeting, singing, and croaking of what seemed like a thousand different birds.
"Hello babies!" Feather sang into the building, at which I thought I heard the chirping swell. Inside, I beheld a flurry of feathers; the building is an O shape, with the center being the largest birdcage I have ever seen. It covers over half of the floor on the bottom level, and through it I could see that there is not only a second level, but also access to the cage from the roof, meaning the cage itself was three stories tall. I didn't even notice, in this first visit, that the cage is divided into sections, so that birds that might prey on each other or otherwise feud were kept separate. At the time, I was too awestruck at the scale of the thing. Well, the scale and something else.
"Are those kiwis?"
The small, brown, plump little ground-walkers were treading the soft grassy ground — so extremely natural-looking that I had no choice but to come to the conclusion that it was actual forest floor, and they had built the building around it while leaving it in place.
"That they are!" Feather tweeted. "Though, since they're flightless and all, we're thinking of moving them to another enclosure. I think… 18?"
Tim nodded. "But we're still getting it ready for them. After…" Tim trailed off.
"After Emma passes, the rest of the kiwis will be able to be shipped off to New Zealand."
"Emma?" I asked. "Which one is Emma?"
"I think Henry is waiting," Tim said impatiently.
"Oh, uh, sure!" Feather beckoned us to follow her up a set of stairs. I had to avert my eyes from one of the large flood lights that were making sure every level of the enclosure felt like it had sunlight, no matter the time of day. On the second level, I was doubly surprised to discover that there is an "outer ring" — the aviary is right next to one of the humongous redwood trees, and, using the tree as a foundation, a walkway was made around it, and on it were more birdcages, though this time for small groups or individual birds. We circled the tree, and as we went I saw several more extremely out-of-place specimens.
There was a cockatoo; three budgies; a species I didn't recognize that I could only describe as "serpentine"; a pelican; a toucan; some bats (I guess those counted); seagulls; eight or so hummingbirds; what looked like rats with wings (I paused here but Captain Schut pushed me forward); and a few other unimaginable sights before we came upon:
A peacock.
"Hello, Henry!" Feather cooed.
What was remarkable was not the bird itself. Especially after seeing the rest of those exotic species, a peacock was relatively normal, actually. I remember interacting with peacocks that were allowed free roam of a zoo once, so I had not only seen them in person, but been on the same walkways as them before. No, what caught the eye were its surroundings.
It was pruning itself on a royal purple satin pillow, humbly ignoring the beautiful, polished silver bars around it that shone like they had been dipped in oil moments before I turned the corner. The floor of the cage was encrusted with verdant emeralds, fiery rubies, oceanic opals, and crystals I had no name for. Looking closer at the bars nearest me, I realized that they weren't simply shiny, but had tiny spirally markings all over, little engravings so subtle as to be shy about their impervious elegance.
"Why did you…?" I started, but couldn't finish, as I found myself rubbing the bars to try and see if I could feel the carvings.
"Henry's quite the artist, isn't he?"
I turned to Feather. "Are you really trying to tell me a bird did this?"
Feather was about to say something, but Tim cut in: "Caterpillar, please, indulge me one moment. Is there anything you would be alright… changing?"
"Changing?"
"It would be so easy to show you what I want to show you, but you have to be willing to give an item to Henry. If you see one of us do it, you'll think it's a trick, or some setup. So please. Is there anything?"
"Wait, you don't mean…" Feather put a hand to her mouth. "She doesn't know about…?"
I looked to Tim, who had redwood bark in his hair, and ran simulations in my mind. But none of them went anywhere. In fact, just about the only coherent thought I could hold onto was that I was having trouble thinking. So, without thinking, I took my phone out of my pocket, and pried off its case. "What do I do?"
"Your arm can fit through the bars, just, hold it into Henry's cage."
Aren't you supposed to not put your limbs in animal cages? But despite the thought, I found myself complying. I dumbly waved my phone case around in the ornate cage, trusting — though was I trusting? — that something would inevitably happen. For a moment, nothing did. I startled as I felt movement under my fingers.
The phone case slipped out of my hand when I jolted, and fell onto the floor of the cage. It was just a plain black phone case, barely any character to it at all, but I started to see it change before my eyes. Those same spirally engravings on the bars began to show up in a glittering white around its entire surface, and then they began to deviate, smaller spirals coming off of bigger spirals, and soon I noticed that it was making a face.
It was my face.
Faeowynn, or a caricature thereof, stared at me from an exemplary stylized work of art. The process took no more than thirty seconds, and then the peacock began pruning itself again (I hadn't noticed it was staring at the case until it stopped).
There was a silence as I simply held eye contact with the facade, half expecting it to begin moving and talking. That I could recognize myself in those spirals was a feat of the artwork. I sometimes didn't even recognize myself in the mirror. I suddenly realized that my arm was too close to what had ostensibly carved a new pattern into my phone case. I retracted it at lightning speed and quickly began to inspect it for damage.
"Henry loves spirals!" Feather spouted awkwardly. "He doesn't always do spirals, though. He hasn't been very experimental, lately."
"You never lied." My tone of voice put that right between a question and a statement. I believed it, but did I? Could I believe what I was seeing? Was this real?
"No, I never did."
I looked towards my dad, and I felt, for the first time in a long time, total honesty. A cleanness of character. I at once wanted to apologize for ever being a rational, thinking human being, with logical doubts and questions left unanswered. I wanted to rewind time and play over those conversations, through email or in person, in which I had dismissed or denied him. There felt like so much time lost, so much mistrust misplaced, that the bewilderment subsided and quickly gave way to shame.
And I might have. I very well might have broken then and there, but as I looked to Tim, a frog stuck itself in my throat, because a hand was on his shoulder, and behind him stood the mountain that was Captain John Schut, teeth grinding, who for all intents and purposes should have had a large, smoking cigar in his mouth.

« Disconnect | Stories My Dad Told Me | The Years Between »


SCP-6000 Contest: sex
For many years, the SCP Wiki and its community have grown from a small group of users posting on 4chan to a mainstream phenomenon. In that time, though, each of us have grown as a person and had new experiences, friends, enemies, and more. But occasionally, it's nice to look back at our roots and admire them. Thus, for this contest, we're going to be turning back the clock and becoming what we all once were: absolute degenerates.
Congratulations to djkaktus for winning the SCP-6000 slot with his piece Trump v. Biden! Thank you to the rest of the participants, we had a blast reading all of your entries!
Entries by vote count at closing!
1. SCP-6000: Trump v. Biden by djkaktus (1069)
2. SCP-06000: fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you by UraniumEmpire (323)
3. SCP-6666: Whitesnake by A Random Day, Rounderhouse, Uncle Nicolini (312)
4. SCP-6800: FUCKING SATAN by Westrin (307)
5. SCP-6001: 😳 pee by Lt Flops (284)
6. SCP-6500: owo by Joreth (268)
7. SCP-6789: A Piercing Requiem for God's Will, Eternally by Ihp (237)
8. SCP-6969: nice by Shaggydredlocks (210)
9. SCP-6682: Why? by Tanhony (199)
10. SCP-6999: You see, this wouldn't have happened if I was in charge of CO. You all did this to yourselves. Absolute fools, all of you. by Elenee FishTruck (169)
11. SCP-173: wait what by JackalRelated (167)
12. SCP-6005: Streetlight by Tufto (underrated)
13. SCP-6069: The Eightfold Path (again) by ch00bakka (123)
14. SCP-6002: Cool Word Here. by Yossipossi (99)
15. SCP-6009: It all comes tumbling down ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) by Cyvstvi (85)
16. SCP-6050: The Freudian Slip by MalyceGraves, plaidypus (73)
17. SCP-6049: Consider this article as a resignation letter, effective immediately. by RJB_R (69)
18. SCP-6690: Took long enough. by DrClef (45)
19. SCP-6173: Sometimes, I wonder if I had not posted SCP-173 years ago on 4chan, what would have happened? Now I know. If I had not done it, I would have never seen this, and my life would have been peaceful. Please delete the Wiki. by Moto42 (3)
Special Thanks
Special thanks to the entire Community Outreach Team for helping put together this contest! Truly it has been a wild ride, and I'm sure we all had lots of fun. Special thanks to the entire Internet Outreach Team for helping to cover this disaster up!

Special thanks to Aethris for the banner and ProcyonLotor for not knowing this existed until he found it posted to the wiki. My apologies in advance.

rating: +365+–x


Site-81 Community Cookbook

▸ More by this Author ◂

{$comments2}

F.A.Q.

{$doesthisfixthebug}

Foreword
Hello, good day to you, and welcome to the SCPnet page for the Site-81 community cookbook! We are thrilled to present to all of you Foundation chefs out there the finest collection of Site-81's culinary delights!
For those who don't know, the Site-81 cookbook is something of an establishment around these parts. Started by my predecessor, Dr. Oliver Rights, this cookbook is a time-honored Site-81 tradition, and in the past has featured such recipes as Dr. Argyle's Vegetarian Meatloaf, Researcher Porter's Vanilla Bean Danishes, Director Moose's Ibuprofen and Whiskey Milkshake, and Dr. Bright's Single Log of Sausage.
Unfortunately, due to the current ongoing global pandemic, our cookbook entries this year have been a little more limited than they have been in the past. In order to fill out the pages, we've been forced to open applications to a more… diverse group. Many of these entries were contributed last minute, and most without my approval, so you're gonna get what you're gonna get.
Regardless, I hope you enjoy this edition of the SCP Foundation's ONLY annual culinary publication, the OFFICIAL SITE-81 COMMUNITY COOKBOOK!
J. Karlyle Aktus
Director, Site-81
and Amateur Chef

Karlyle Aktus' World Famous 10pm Chili

+ Open Recipe

by djkaktus

Hello everyone, Director Aktus here again with my World Famous 10pm Chili. You may be asking yourself, "Karlyle, why is it called 10pm Chili?" The answer is that when I was in college, we would make this chili at 10pm before going out on the town to cruise, and when we came home inebriated six hours later we would have hot, delicious chili waiting for us. You may also be asking "wait, didn't you go to college in like 1935?" To that I say -
Anyway, on with the ingredients:

2 lbs chopped sirloin or sirloin strips
2 lbs hot sausage or chorizo
2 cans Rotel tomatoes and peppers (hottest variety they have, or milder if you have a flimsy constitution)
2 cans creamed corn
2 packets ranch dressing powder
2 packets taco seasoning powder
2 - 3 habanero peppers, diced (seeds only if you want your asshole to remind you of the meal after about two hours)

Instructions:

In a large pan over medium heat, brown your sirloin and sausage. Sausage should be cooked thoroughly, but sirloin can be cooked medium / medium rare. Cooks quickly so keep an eye on it.
Season sirloin with some flaky salt and black pepper. Don't overdo it because there's plenty of other seasoning coming but I like to get a little on the steak ahead of time to lock down those good juices.
In a large crock pot or other large, high-walled pot, add your cooked meats, canned vegetables, and seasoning packets. Stir to mix thoroughly. Dice your habaneros if you haven't done so yet then add that puppy in. Some people might say "Karlyle this is too hot" and those people are wrong.
Fill two of your now empty cans of Rotel with water and add that.
Set crockpot or stock pot to low and allow chili to simmer for like 6-8 hours (or, traditionally, however long you're out drinking). I do mine overnight and it's delicious. Once you're done cooking turn it to the warmer setting (or very low heat) and let that bad boy fill your domicile with delicious chili aroma.

Serve in warm bowls with grated cheddar or mexican cheese on the side, and also sour cream. Both are delicious ways to enjoy this chili.
Note: If you put beans in this fucking chili you are dead to me. Beans in chili are an abomination and anyone who says otherwise has sold out to big bean. You're going to make this chili the way cowboys made this chili - meat, peppers, done. Fucking delicious. Your family, friends, and stomach will thank you.
Could it be made better with custom seasoning and your own chili paste or whatever? Sure, yes. but this is very easy and you can buy all the ingredients for less than 30 bucks. Serves like 12 people. Less than $3 per bowl, that's a goddamn steal.
Good for curing hangovers, preventing hangovers, making lasting relationships and conquering your enemies. Enjoy this delicious chili, and don't forget the peppers. Bon appetite.

Site-81 Medley, by SCP-049 and SCP-096

+ Open Recipe

by the great hippo

J. Everwood's Sweet Rice Pudding

+ Open Recipe

by Uncle Nicolini

Hey folks. Jay Everwood here. Now, uh, a lot of you may not know this but I grew up eating a lot of Caribbean foods. Here is one of my favorite desserts, 'Arroz con leche' or as you guys might know it, 'Rice Pudding'. The folks down at the GoI research HQ really like it when I make it, so I figured I would share the recipe with you all. Enjoy!
You will need:

1 cup of short-grain rice
6 cups whole milk
1 cinnamon stick
1 lemon peel
½ cup of sugar
1 can of condensed milk

Instructions:

Soak your rice in water for a few minutes until the water gets cloudy, then drain it.
Put your rice, milk, lemon peel, sugar, and cinnamon stick into a medium saucepan and cook it at low heat for about an hour, stirring occasionally.
Once done, fish out the lemon peel and cinnamon stick from the rice using a spoon. The sudden crunch of an entire cinnamon stick or the extreme bitterness from a lemon peel are not welcome surprises.
Add the contents of your can of condensed milk and stir again.
Remove from heat and cover, then store in a cold place. Though you can have this hot, it tastes much better cold, so I would let it sit overnight. But I'm not your mom, do whatever you want.

Serve in a small glass bowl and garnish with cinnamon powder. Just as a heads up, this is typically enjoyed alongside a fruit such as raspberries, bananas, or even strawberries. The lemon peel is replaceable with any other citrusy peel, but I find that lemon works best to compliment the sweetness of the dish. I know that in Spain they typically eat this with raisins, which I find disgusting and infuriating.
As you may have observed from the ingredients, this is a very cheap and delicious dessert that can be made from stuff the average person has lying around their kitchen. It's also as easy as making rice, so there's very little chance you can fuck this up colossally.

Director House's Speedy Small Pizza

+ Open Recipe

by ROUNDERHOUSE

Hey, guys! This quick recipe has gotten me through a lot of late nights at 666, and I never miss an opportunity to share it. Italians may have invented the pizza, but by God, America perfected it — and now I've perfected that perfection into some sort of double-layered perfection pie topped with perfection! Anyway, here's the recipe:
Ingredients:

1/2 cup flour
1 packet yeast
1/4 cup of water
A little bit of olive oil
Pizza sauce (Prego recommended!)
Mozzarella cheese as needed (no upper limit)
Toppings of choice, except for pineapple. If you would like pineapple on your pizza, I would suggest you close this recipe and eat something befitting your status, such as Lunchables.

Y'know, pizza staples. Can't have a pie of any respectable quality without the basics.
Instructions:

Gather your ingredients on your cooking surface.
Mix together the flour, yeast, and water.
Fold the dough and let sit.
Return to discover you have added too much yeast and too much water and the entire thing is this disgusting slimey overflowing mess.
Dispose of the dough. (Site incinerators come in handy at this step, but are optional.)
Optional: Sob in defeat.
Pull out your phone, dial up your local Dominos or Pizza Hut, and place your order. Give them a funny name, such as "Dick Hertz" or "I. C. Weiner".
Drive out to pick up your pizza — NO DELIVERY! Delivery is forbidden because it is for weak and cowardly people, and also because it constitutes a potentially massive breach of Veil security.
Enjoy!

Better luck next time?

D-41562's Makeshift Spaghetti

+ Open Recipe

by aismallard

Back when I was a programmer, I wasn't too big on spaghetti code, but a nice warm bowl of the food would always lift my mood. Now it's a bit harder to come by quality meals, but I have a few ways to pull one together every now and then.

Pasta. I usually take some from the anomaly kitchen, guess there's a skip that likes it
Tomato sauce, from Pantry B (weekdays) or Pantry D (weekends)
(optional) Onions, Bell peppers, or other vegetables, if available
(optional) Meat. For some reason the kitchens have had a lot of pork in stock, so I mostly use that
Water.

The hard part is collecting the ingredients in an approximate timeframe and hiding them. Thankfully the guards at the rec center are pretty chill, so I just keep them in the cupboard.
When I'm ready I go to its kitchenette. Someone has to watch if you check out a knife but other than it's just a normal cooking environment.

Pour the sauce in a frying pan and turn on the heat.
Cut the vegetables/meat if present, and add to the sauce.
Fill up a pot with water and bring it to a boil.
Add the noodles and cook until finished. For the pasta I usually use it's 8 minutes.
Serve on a plate with the sauce poured onto the noodles.

It can be a bit hard dealing with the logistics of nabbing all the supplies, so if you have any questions feel free to visit me in the back of the D-class Wing, Block 3.

Rose Jacket's Hachis Parmentier

+ Open Recipe

by The Pighead

Bonjour à tous et à toutes, dear friends, my name is Rose Jacket and it's cool to have a chance to do something other than writing papers about -J skips ! And today, the cooking recipe I would like to present to you today is one traditional dish of my native country: France. In America, for what I know, you call that "shepherd's pie", but in France, we call it a "Hachis Parmentier". So, yeah, you can drop immediately all your cliches about snails and wine. Fuck snails. Snails are an abomination and must be destroyed at all costs, remember it.
Anyway. For making a hachis Parmentier, here's the ingredients :

600 g of chopped veal.
Potatoes. Like, ten potatoes, it will be good.
(optional) Tomatoes. Personally, I make it without tomatoes, but it's up to you.
150 g of grated cheese.
An egg.
10 cl of fresh cream.
Condiments and butter.
(optional) A copy of the album Mezzanine, by Massive Attack, and a bottle of ice tea.

What? You don't get it, about the album and the bottle of ice tea? I will explain later. Anyway, it's time of instructions:

Take your potatoes and mash them. There are many ways to do it : the most common way to do it is to use a ricer or a fork. But if you don't have these objects, you can also use a baseball bat or, the most extreme solution, your own feet. If you choose to use this solution, be sure to take off your socks and put them away safely.
When your potatoes are correctly mashed, take the mix and put it in a bowl. Then, take the egg, the fresh cream, the condiments and butter and incorporate them into the puree. You will need to use a whisk for that. When it's done, put the bowl in the oven for 5 minutes.
Take your chopped veal and boil it for 4 minutes. Be sure that the meat is peeled. When it's done, add a little bit of salt and pepper.
Open the oven, take the bowl and burn your hands because you had forgot to wear oven gloves.
Take the time to yell, scream and insult members of personnel, members of your family or fictional characters you don't like. You can even insult gods if you want, but this is only if you're really upset and I will not recommand that to everyone.
(optional) Take a deep breath, go sit down on your chair or your couch, take the copy of Mezzanine and listen to it while you drink calmly your bottle of ice tea. Enjoy this moment. And after that, go back to your kitchen.
Put your boiled meat in a gratin dish and spread it all over the bottom. Then, cover it with your puree and, after that, with grated cheese. When it's done, take the bowl in a grilling during 5 minutes to made the cheese broil. Serve immediately.
(optional) Do a little victory dance while you're listen to the song Freeee (Ghost Town, Pt.2), by Kids See Ghosts.

And that's all! Yeah, I admit that this is not something particularly surprising… but, hey, no one says that the life of a Foundation employee is obligated to be full of weird and bizarre things, even in our ordinary life. I still hope that you will appreciate it (I've already done that for people in Site-19 and it seemed successful)! So, bon appétit !
P.S : To the two who had used the leftovers of the dish for things that I don't want to imagine and who had said to me, after that, having doing all this for "not being consumed", this is a really lame excuse.

dado is make good capitalism omelet by dado

+ open recipe

by djkaktus

hello yes is me, dado. u perhaps thought dado is not of knowing about special scp fountain book for taking, but aha! dado is sleuth you out. dado is now read of very many secrets for scp.
…
…
dado perhaps misunderstood. this is cook book, not took book. dado apologizes for this.
however, dado is also now of seeing that cooking book is missing very important and most critical of entries for creating delicious dado-brand breakfast. yes well fortunately for you dado is now have this book and also dado is have a pen so dado will now transcribe for you what is call "dado's good capitalism omelet by dado".
here is what for ingredients u gather for omelet:

two egg of chicken
20 of $100 benjamins
1/2 of pound of gold leaf
2 quart oil
1 bar of steel, minced
1 box dvd for lord of ring, return of khan.
4 bottle of insulin, powdered
salt of ocean and pepper (dado is have black pepper of cracking on-hand, so dado is use ghost pepper. probably same thing)

here now is how to make good capitalism omelet:

1) first of step is u must purchase lamburgerini. only cooking surface for dado-brand omelet is sport cart of italian.
2) get engine hot by pushing foot upon acceleration. if foot is tired this step can be passed off to hamster assistant.
b) now take large pan and set upon engine for heating. while pan is becoming of heated, now is time to preparings the mice on plazas.
c) take benjamins and put into blender. also put in oil and insulin. give a good chop until u have thick slurry consistency. very important for texture.
?) add minced steel to slurry and mix until steel is coat.
4) now take egg and cracking into hot pan. make sure not to take foot off gas or allow hamster to relieve. important that engine is staying hot.
7) ok so now u remember dvd of what is for lordy rang? yes take dvd and break into bite size bits. dvd is good garnish for dado premium omelette.
7) now u may be thinking to self "but dado, how can u have omelet with no cheese of cow?" well dado is having news for u. why need cheese when u have gold leaf? yes that is right now u put gold leaf into omelet
9) ok now u make omelet
10) last step is that u take omelet out and serve on plate, but only plate purchased from dado because dado is superior entrepreneur. also potentially plate what is purchase from bezos.

ok dado is not yet try this omelet because dado is currently self-quarantine with hamster and is not having all of ingredients for delicious capitalism omelet, however dado thinks that he might have dvd of the laundry ring in a box in dado garage. if so dado will make omelet and report back. in meantime please try dado brand delicious very good capitalism omelet, only for finest capitalists and other associates. thank u.
…
…
p.s. dado is try omelet. dado is making mistake - use dvd of marble avenger: war of infinity instead. thank u again

Janitor-Overseer-13's Truffle Fries

+ Open Recipe

by stormbreath

I don't know how many people will have access to this recipe, but I felt that I might as well give it a shot. The first time I ever made this recipe was during a containment breach back in 2000, when I was trapped in the kitchen for three days. Now, I tend to make it every couple of weeks when it comes time to clean up in that kitchen again. I make a little treat for myself, since I don't get paid enough and this job sucks.

2 pounds of whatever potatoes they have on hand
2 tablespoons of the olive oil (normally imported from Greece)
1 teaspoon salt (there's probably a fancy one in there)
Grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons of truffle oil (they've got a tank of it)
Shaved truffles to taste

I normally get all of my stuff from the O5-Council private kitchen. I don't think most other kitchens have anything like this.

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
2. Cut potatoes into fries
3. Mix potatoes in a bowl with olive oil and salt.
4. Bake potatoes in oven for 30 minutes, flipping them over at the halfway point.
5. Take potatoes out, drizzle with truffle oil, sprinkle cheese and shaved truffles over.
6. Enjoy!

If you could do me a favor, keep this one on the down-low, please? Don't tell the Overseers that I've been using their personal kitchen on a weekly basis for the past twenty years.

Researcher Talloran's Simple Chocolate Chip Cookies

+ Open Recipe

by LordStonefish

Hi, all. This is a cookie recipe my boyfriend taught me. If I'd had a particularly rough day dealing with objects, I often just go back to the apartment, or barring that, dormitory kitchen, and bake a tray or two of these. They're quite simple and they basically take under half an hour to make. Don't tell him this, but sometimes I'll just make these to eat the cookie dough out of the bowl as a comfort thing If I'm having a particularly bad anxiety attack. It's kind of pathetic to look at, honestly.

2 sticks salted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup dark brown sugar, firmly packed
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
2 large eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
The whole entire bag of chocolate chips, seriously just pour that bad boy in there
1 cup walnuts if YOU REALLY WANT

Instructions:

1. First you grease a big cooking sheet with the flat end of one of your butter sticks and then you preheat the oven for like 350-360* F. Yes, I know we're the Foundation, but I live in the States and my oven uses Fahrenheit. Put the sheet in the top third of the oven
2. Get a stand mixer and cream the butter, sugars, and vanilla at high speed until it's smooth, light, has no butter clumps, and tastes sinfully good. Remember to pack down the brown sugar in the measuring cup to get the right amount.
3. Add the eggs, beat them in. Easy.
4. Get a big bowl and whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Then, add them to the mixing bowl and beat until they blend. Start slowly so you don't cover yourself in flour. Also, don't overbeat, the cookies will be gross.
5. Pour the entire bag of chocolate chips in and blend at low speed until it looks like God himself.
6. Eat the entire bowl and lick the beater Use a spoon to make rough blobs on the tray. Space them out or they will join into mutant super cookies in the oven. A glass of water is handy to dip the spoon into. I like ragged edge cookies but if you're a neat freak you can round them off with your finger.
7. Bake for like 15 minutes or so until the tops set and they're just starting to turn brown.
8. When the timer's up, pull them out of the oven and get them on a wire rack ASAP while they're still soft and scrapable. Then wait to eat. Or not. Or just eat the bowl. Your choice.

Dr. Cherry's Cherry shortbread cookies

+ Open Recipe

- By DianaBerry

Hello everyone! I'm Dr. Charlie Cherry. Normally I work with flowers but you know a lot of foods are also plants too. Like cherries come from plants of the genus Prunus and are drupe fruits which are an indehiscent in which an exocarp and or mesocarp surrounds a single shell—
I've been informed that I need to get to the actual recipe.

Ingredients
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature (to do this, get a stick of butter and let it sit out for a bit. Don't melt in the microwave)
2/3 cup sugar
2 Tablespoon reserved cherry juice
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (there are fakes but I mean the actual stuff it's better)
2 cups flour (make sure to spoon and level your flower flour!)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 eggs
12 maraschino cherries (drained and chopped) (these are cherries that have been dyed red. It is preserved and sweetened, and typically made from cherries such as the Royal Ann, Rainer— I'm gonna stop now)
4 ounces white chocolate. It's optional but tastes amazing so I'm going to say you have to

Now we get to how to make the cookies. I didn't actually create this recipe, I'm tweaking it a bit to make it my own. They actually have glitter in the recipe but I couldn't find any edible glitter.

Instructions
1.) Get a handheld or general stand mixer first. Use a whisk attachment and beat the butter on high until light and creamy. It only took me about a minute or so to get there. If you don't have a mixer I mean I suppose you could hand stir it but I would think that would hurt someone's arm to beat something so fast.
2.) Switch to medium speed and add in the sugar. Make sure that's nice and fluffy. I hope my language is easy to understand, this recipe was very enthusiastic and I have low energy, so like I hope I'm getting it across okay.
3.) Next add in the eggs, vanilla, cherry juice and chopped up cherries.
4.) Now put in what you haven't yet. I think it's just the flour at this point but I forget. You should double check.
5.) Eat some of the dough. It tastes very good. I mean it's ridiculously sweet but it's good.
6.) Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit
7.) Gently make little round balls of dough and line them up about 2 inches apart. About 20 will fit on a standard sheet pan.
8.) Bake for 8-10 minutes.
9.) Enjoy!
10.) Okay so if you're a biological female don't eat the cookie it basically turns you into a maid robot but if you're a guy it's chill to eat

Dr. Fynegan's Hibiscus Tea (Agua de Jamaica)

+ Open Recipe

by JackalRelated

First off, yes, I don't work at Site-81 - I pulled a couple of favors to get my recipe on here. Second, those of you who know me probably didn't peg me for a tea person, but here we are. Third, this stuff is really, really good.
I also may or may not have had my ass blown for trying to transfer to Site-81 to put my recipe on here, and taking the salt out in this description. Sorry.
This makes about a quart of tea.

2 quarts water
3/4 cup dried jamaica/hibiscus flowers.
1/2 cup sugar
Slice of lime (for garnish)

I get my hibiscus flowers from Site-407's nearby general store. They're pretty fresh and Laurent gives me a discount if I buy in "bulk".

1. Bring water to a boil and add hibiscus flowers.
2. Let steep 15 minutes.
3. Stir in sugar.
4. Line a strainer with a thin wet cloth and strain tea into a pitcher.
5. Chill and serve over ice with a slice of line.
6. Enjoy! Or not, it's your choice, really.

If you drink hibiscus tea hot or warm I will find you and I will forcibly pour proper temperature tea down your throat. For behavioral purposes I did not write the last line, but the intent's still there.

Researcher Voct's Technically-a-Casserole

+ Open Recipe

by Voct

I've always been one to take seemingly unrelated bits and pieces of whatever was lying around, and merge and repurpose them into something new, useful, and interesting. This is how science works. This is how writing works. And this is how dinner can work, when you're in a hurry.

Get several cans of vegetables - peas, corn, green beans, kidney beans, lima beans, fava beans, water chestnuts, or whatever you were able to get from the store after the mob went through panic-buying (not baked beans, though). More than 4 different kinds is not a good idea. Open 'em one by one, drain out most of the liquid, and pour the contents into a big sealable tupperware bowl.
A can of some kind of meat product. I usually use mackerel, but sometimes I'll go with canned tuna, or canned chopped ham, and once I even used a few tins of oysters. Again, drain 'em and dump 'em in.
A bread product for binding. Got any stale bread? Cracker crumbs? Ramen? If you seriously can't find anything better, you can even use unsweetened breakfast cereal. Don't use oatmeal, though — makes things way too gluey.
Put the lid on the bowl. Seal it. No, tightly. Now hold it over the kitchen sink, because it's not sealed as tightly as you think it is. Shake it vigorously for 15-20 seconds, with one hand firmly on the lid.

There you go, that's a good 4 to 5 days worth of lunches and/or dinners. Because you don't always have time to prepare complicated meals when there's SCP documents to write.

Dr. MacWarren's Spam Fried Rice

+ Open Recipe

by MacWarren

When I was a young and impressionable kid, my mom used to make this tasty semi-fried rice that had pieces of spam cut into cubes and it was the best shit I've ever had — and best of all, everything you need is inexpensive and right in your pantry! My friends love it when I make this stuff whenever we hang out and so I pass on this forbidden knowledge to you.
First, let's prepare the ingredients we're going to use. You're gonna need:

About 2½ cups of rice, any kind of rice will do
Spam
3 tablespoons of black pepper
2 - 3 teaspoons of paprika
Soy sauce or any salty liquid condiment of your choice*
1 tablespoon of chopped dried onions
An egg

And now we get to where the magic happens.
Intstructions:

Pour some oil onto your wok and preheat that sucker on medium heat. Pivot the wok to make sure that oil covers a good portion of the surface area.
Get out your cutting board, get the spam out of the can, and start cutting it up into cubes. It's okay if they're uneven or if you get blood on it, nobody's going to know about it either way.
Pour the spam into your wok, grab your metal spoon, and get stirring.
This is a stir-fry dish so keep stirring the meat until it reaches a deep red color.
Now lower the heat and put your rice in the wok. If there's clumps of rice sticking to each other, just smash them or cut 'em up with the side of the spoon.
Keep stirring for about 30 seconds before adding the soy sauce. Drizzle it around to make sure you get nice coverage.
Keep mixing it for another 30 seconds before grabbing your pepper grinder and putting some black pepper in there.
Mix it for another 30 seconds to a minute.
Afterwards, put some paprika on the mixed rice. Sprinkle it around to make sure it's evenly coated.
Mix again for a minute, turn off the heat, put your rice in a bowl, and then you're finished!
But wait! You're not finished yet, you still got an egg to deal with. Grab your egg and get out your pan.
Pour the oil in the pan, set the heat to medium, crack open the egg directly on the surface (or if you suck at cracking eggs, do it in a bowl).
We're going for a fried egg, so keep the whites cooking but not too much that it starts cooking the yolk. If possible, flip the egg on its other end to cook the top as well.
When you're done, place the egg on top of the fried rice.
Sprinkle with some ground pepper and your chopped dried onions. Voilà! You just cooked food all by yourself!

See? That wasn't so hard now was it? This makes about two servings so you can impress your girlfriend or boyfriend with your mad cooking skillz.
Or if you're like me and you're stress eating, you can just stuff your face and you'll be surprisingly full!
*I don't know what is it with you Americans, but I cannot stress this enough: When I say a salty liquid condiment, I mean a condiment that's runny enough to easily coat the rice. No, not ketchup or your disgusting A.1. barbecue sauce. That shit's way too thick to put in your rice. Please do not violate the fried rice with these atrociously thick sauces or I will beat you with a spoon. Don't test me.

(Dr. Blue's) Green Tomato Relish

+ Open Recipe

by Hooloovoo

If you grow tomatoes like I do (with very low maintenance/watering/caring), then they probably stubbornly produce green ones that die at the first hard frost. Here's a recipe that uses the last unripe tomatoes of the season to make a great sauce for sandwiches and hot dogs.

about 6 onions.
maybe 5 bell peppers (best are red, other colors can do in a pinch)
about 2.5lb of green tomatoes (that are going to be lost to the first frost)
2 cups of vinegar
1 stick of cinammon
1tsp cloves
1tsp allspice
1tsp mustard seed
1c sugar
1tsp salt

Intstructions:

Start cutting the veggies. Make em small, this is relish. It's going to take a while. Start heating the sauce while you're chopping.
Boil the vinegar with the cinnamon, cloves, and allspice (put the spices in a tea bag to make them easy to remove).
Add the veggies to the vinegar, and add the salt, mustard, and sugar. Boil until the tomatoes and onions are done enough, I left it on for two hours and it was great.
Can the sauce or put it in the freezer. I *should* know how to can things but I don't… so it's in the freezer.


Jedidiah Spring wasn't a traditional member of the Fifthist organisations. His Chapter could best be described, he supposed, as a cult. At least, that's what the media called them. The Western Seaboard Fifthists, it was a stupid name, and one he'd deeply despised.
He'd been a roaming preacher, spreading the word of their Cult far and wide, from the 60's til the early 00's. From the yuppie hippies, to the despondent ne'er-do-wells of California's largest cities, to the affluent, desperate celebrities. He'd got close to persuading Brian Wilson to record a song about the Great Starfish in the Sky, but the recreational drugs got to his head before they could thrash the details out, and Wilson passed out on the beach.
He wondered if that was why his band was called Beach Boys?
He settled down with the major members of the Church in the mellow town of Encinitas, and sang sweet songs to the folks there. When I Saw Her was his particular favourite, especially when it was sung whilst the smoke was piling up on high.
That period of his life had lasted a mere six years, but it felt like an utter eternity to him. Dancing with women, and men, half his age whilst drinking himself into a stupor, desperately clinging to the days of the yester-years. He was only sixty-two, but looked fifty-five - well, he thought this was how people looked at fifty-five, anyways.
And then, it'd been over in a snap. He remembered the news reports to this day.
Yes… Yes, we're receiving reports of varying veracity of an incident in Korea. There's a huge hole. My God… it's gone. There's nothing left.
The small TV in the corner of the lodge, that hardly received a signal if it was raining, had everyone's attention that night. They'd been glued to the screen, hugging one another, and staring. There were no songs that night, just fear. Only fear.

When Korea went up in flames, he thought that this was his moment. His Chapter had been preparing for this very moment for years, and years, and years.
But it wasn't his moment, it wasn't anybody's moment.
He took out his bong and set it down on the table, lighting it and watching the bubbles surface, and pop. A heavy mist and smoke filled the room.
Jedidiah got to his knees and sighed, dusting down the small TV and rummaging around under the coffee table, reaching outwards and picking up a remote. He switched on the TV, which was tuned to the same channel it had been six years ago.
'Senator Alexander DeVanse declared the latest Internal Defense Act to be the "greatest step we have taken thus far in securing a future for the American people in the wake of the Korean Peninsula Catastrophe."'
'His bill passed through the Senate last week and contained a series of unprecedented emergency powers that were granted to federal law enforcement and federal agencies. In addition, it will extend the period of National Emergency beyond 2019 and into 2020.'
"Fear keeps the people in line." He thought, as he got back to his feet.
There was nothing left for him anymore. His Chapter has collapsed into ruin and a new one had risen from the smoke. He glanced at the wall and felt his lips twist into a smile.
It was still there, dust covered and worn by the passage of time, and even stained by water in some places. But it was still there. Jedidiah pulled the frame off the wall and carefully slid the photograph out.
There had been two-hundred of them in 2013; now there was only him.
He dusted the photograph off with his fingers, slipped his wallet out of his tanned duster jacket, and folded the photograph in half before placing the photograph inside.
With that, he was done, and Jedidiah left the compound feeling the final moments of daytime brush his face. He pulled his moth-eaten stetson onto his head whilst slinging his guitar across his shoulder.
It would be hard, but he'd try once again.
He was Jedidiah Springs, the roaming preacher of the Western Seaboard Fifthists.

The Tales of Jedidah Springs, the roaming preacher of the Western Seaboard Fifthists.
Part 1 - Disillusionment | >> Part 2 - Indignitas


I got caught yesterday.
Normally, I'm more careful about when and where I do it, but I was absolutely ravenous. I hadn't had at a good meal in weeks and I was really craving steak. Tremors of hunger, unlike anything I'd felt before, erupted across my body like a stream of earthquakes. I'd considered just trying to eat it. To grind my teeth into the tough meat and scorch my tongue on the sizzling flesh, then to attempt the agonising act of forcing the fibrous slush down my esophagus. I'd hope it'd stay down, but I knew it wouldn't.
I set about cutting the steak into cubes the width of my eye socket, but I was impatient so I decided instead to slice long thin strips. My eyes drooled with anticipation at the feast before me. I lifted a cube to my mouth, scanned my surroundings to be sure no one was watching, and then plunged the cube directly into my left eye. As it sank past my lens and integrated into my retina, I was in Heaven. I audibly groaned at the otherworldly flavour of the sight filling my mind with beefy bliss. My bliss was suddenly interrupted, however, by the looks of disgust of my fellow patrons. The shame silenced me.
It was an eternity before they stopped staring and returned to their idle chatter.
I took my chance and grabbed one of the long strips with my bare hands. I would need as much dexterity as possible. I slowly and methodically slid the meat into my right eye, inch by inch, as grease and fat coated my eyelashes and dripped down my cheek, but I didn't care. I was finally consuming ACTUAL food. Once the slab was finished I set about devouring another, and another, and ANOTHER. Before I knew it my plate was empty, but I needed MORE. I lifted the slick plate and tilted my head back, pouring the delicious warm liquid into my eyeballs.
Even with gristle and fat drizzling down my neck and soaking my formerly white dress shirt, I was the happiest I'd been in my whole life. For the first time in my life, I felt satisfied.
I don't care that everyone saw, it was fucking worth it.


close

Info

X

More by this author

"We stopped making socks!"
"Sally? How'd you get into my house?!"
"Not important! We stopped making socks, Lenny! We… we…"
"Whoa there, calm down, take a breath. You alright?"
"Yes, yes, it's just…"
"Oh gosh, here here, gimme a hug."
"Thank you…"
"Now, tell me what happened, okay?"
"Yes, so… in the sock subdepartment, you know how I was telling you about the narwhal pattern? Well, I proposed it, and Nancy, that nincompoop—"
"Whoa! No need to use such profanity!"
"Hmph. Anyways, Nancy, that doughbrain, she was like 'but zebra print!' And I replied 'nobody likes zebra print, but everyone likes narwhals!' Then, guess what she did?"
"She… apologized?"
"No! She's too petty for that, she started crying! And everyone was trying to comfort her, even though she was clearly faking it. But I didn't back down. I fought against the zebra-print menace, and, and…"
"…and?"
"Dr. Cornelius Everett Wondertainment himself was visiting, and he said that us fighting was bad for production, so he paused sock production and said I had to change subdepartments! They fired me, Socky Sally! What am I supposed to do, Lenny!? Socks are in my name, I can't just… just change subdepartments! That's like telling a Builder Bully he has to think up new toy ideas!"
"Then just change to a different subdepartment. Don't you Cloth Moths have thousands of them?"
"Lenny… I can't! Just… I don't know what to do…"
"Well, I… I suppose I have something I can show you. Come over here."
"Your dresser? Why are there so many locks on it? Ohmigosh! Are you hiding non-picture books!?!?"
"No! Just— just lemme focus, I can't open this if you're being all distracting."
"Okay…"
"Good. Now…"
Brzzz… click! Drrrrr— shing! "Bop it! Twist it!" Clank.
"Ahaha! First try!"
"…what are these things? Fuzzy… pant legs?"
"They're, uh… well, just these things I really like… I collect 'em…"
"Ohhhhh, they're that kinda thing? Scandalous."
"No! I would never! Not before marriage, at least!"
"Lame. But you didn't answer my question."
"Right… do you know my full name?"
"Nope."
"It's Lenny… Legheat. They're legwarmers, passed down to me from Laura Legheat, who got them from Lendon Legheat, and he got them from— hey, what are you doing?!"
"Trying 'em on."
"You're doing it all wrong! Why'd you scrunch 'em all up on your thighs! Pull them down a bit more, and… good!"
"Hmmm… they're like socks… but without the feet cloth! I like 'em, really cozy."
"I know, right! I've always felt too nervous to show others, 'cause my mom said people would always look at her weird when she wore them, but—"
"Lenny. Do you think you could make these in narwhal print?"
"Well… I haven't tried making them before so—"
"Lenny. Could you make these in narwhal print?"
"…yes."
"Then let's get to it!"

"Lenny! You'll never believe what happened!"
"You broke into my house again?"
"Yep! You should really lock your windows."
"I live on the fifth story of this building, Sally. How did you even—"
"Unimportant! But lookit my legs. Gaze upon them. The magnificent narwhal print."
"Sally, I told you, not before marriage!"
"Ugh, you're such a stickler for tradition… anyways, I went down to the sock subdepartment with these showstoppers on, and guess what?"
"Everyone clapped, Dr. Wondertainment was there, now you're his heir to the Wondertainment name?"
"I wish. But it was still a victory about as good. Nancy saw them and started sputtering, she was all heated and I was bragging to everyone about how cool these things are. And people were very interested."
"Really?"
"Yeah! They asked where they could get their own. I said a friend made them for me. And it got me thinking, what if we made our own subdepartment? We have the customers, the appeal, the charm. Just think about it, Socky Sally and Lenny Legheat, taking the world by storm with their brand new product, legwarmers!"
"I—"
"Now in narwhal print!"
"Sally—"
"Much better than socks! Cooler designs!"
"…"
"I'm done."
"Alright… well, I've never really thought about making my own subdepartment. But if you really think it'd do good, then we totally could."
"I can't wait to see the look on Nancy's face…"
"Can you please not make this all about revenge?"
"No. No I can't."

"Lenny! Look at these new designs! So I was talkin' to the creatives, and they thought that since narwhal print was doing so well, they ought to make some of other horned animals too. So now we've got unicorns! They're so adorable, aren't they? And so soft too! C'mere and feel it, it's like what touching cotton candy should feel like."
"How many times do I have to tell you this? Not before marriage. But come in, I wanted to talk to you, actually."
"Wuzzup?"
"The, uh, sock subdepartment… they sent in a complaint saying that our legwarmers have been taking business from their subdepartment, and that they're not doing so hot because of it."
"Hmph. Tell 'em they'd be doing hotter if they were wearing these legwarmers. They gotta get with the times already…"
"Yeah… it's probably nothing to worry about.
"I bet Nancy made it."
"She did, actually."
"Heh. Predictable. Anything else?"
"Well… there is one small thing. Look at this."
"Are these… armwarmers?"
"Yep."
"Lenny."
"Yes?"
"I love you so fucking much."
"I'm not gonna say stuff like that until after marriage too…"
"Then marry me."
"…that doesn't sound half bad."
"I'll go down to the creatives. Maybe they can whip up a wedding ring design."
"Sure thing. Oh, and Sally?"
"Yeah?"
"Wear those same legwarmers tomorrow. I wanna feel how soft they are."
"Of course, Lenny. It'll be my pleasure."

More From This Author

More From This Author

Ellie3's Works

SCPs

SCP-2019-J •

SCP-7300 •

SCP-5986 •

SCP-7308 •

SCP-4492 •

SCP-5033 •

SCP-4874 •

Tales/GoI Formats

Home Sick •

Sloth's Pit Christmas Façade •

The Place To Find Yourself •

I hope this isn't just a dream. •

Fishbowl •

Learn To Live •

"Is bad luck really such a crime?" asked the mouse to the cat. •

Come Wayward Souls •

SCP-ide •

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far •

Starlow Grocery •

Entangled In An Interdimensional Spirally Dance •

The Bed Salesman: A Brief Interlude •

Herman Fuller Presents: The Tunnel Of Love! •

"You called my bluff." •

Other

Ellie3 (Gimmick Free!) •


Calibold

A Bold Choice

Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page

"…and I say this, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
"Amen," said the congregation. Cal looked down at his program and saw that Sister Batalon was speaking next. She stepped up to the pulpit. "Brothers and sisters, it is an honor to speak to you today…"
Cal listened intently. Her messages were always the kindest and most heartfelt. She loved talking about her friends, both members and non-members, and how proud she was of them.
A motion caught his eye. Cal turned his head to look and… well, well, well. A young man, with a beard and sunglasses, was waving at him. When he saw he'd caught Cal's eye, he motioned for him to come to the door he was at. Cal turned briefly to Sister Batalon, who was now speaking about her son and his trials in the Air Force. Cal turned back and mouthed "later". The man kept motioning that he come talk, but Cal shook his head. Eventually the man rolled his eyes and mouthed "fine".
Cal turned his eyes back to the pulpit. Sister Batalon kept speaking for several minutes, but by this point, his heart just wasn't in it. He would have loved the talk, but with David on his mind now, he just couldn't focus. What did he want so badly?
Cal's hands began shaking. The more he thought about David, the more stressed and anxious he felt. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his notebook and began folding it. The order and rhythm helped him, but his nerves were still frayed. He started giggling quietly, not because anything was funny, but because of how absurd it all was.
Eventually, the talk was over. Bishop Gayle gave a brief message, followed by the ward singing the closing song, Battle Hymn of the Republic, one of Cal's favorites. Brother Tailor walked to the pulpit to give a closing prayer, and after it was over, Cal stood up and left the meeting room. He spotted David sitting on one of the couches and walked over. He tried to carry himself naturally, confidently, but he felt sick to his stomach, fear taking hold of him.
Cal tried to keep himself calm. Whatever differences they had, David had made it clear that he and Cal were still brothers. Cal loved David, and David loved him back. But if David was here, something serious was going on.
Cal stopped next to David, who turned to face him. "I thought you weren't coming back," said Cal, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
David smirked. "Don't get your hopes up, I'm only here because it's important. Besides," he patted the upholstery, "Say what you will about the Church, they have the most comfortable couches."
"You couldn't even afford a couch, Davey?" Cal sat down next to him. If David was making jokes, it couldn't be all that bad. He felt the tension inside of him release slightly.
David scowled. "I can now. Don't push your luck with me, Cal. You're the only member of this family I tolerate, which is the only reason I'm here now." The knot of tension remanifested in Cal's stomach.
"Something big," said Cal, wringing his hands nervously.
"I got a job."
Cal snickered. "So now you can afford your fantasy couch?" David glared at him. "Fine, I'm just messing with you. But what's the job have to do with me?"
David pulled back his left sleeve and looked longingly at the stump where a hand used to be. After a few moments, he pulled his sleeve over it and sighed.
"I walked out of the hospital with nothing. Money wasted on endless hospital bills. And even after most of me was fixed-"
"You're one hand down."
David nodded solemnly.
"Mom and Dad wanted to help," said Cal.
"Don't guilt me, Cal. Don't turn this into my mistake. I made my choice, I don't need them in my life anymore." David noticed Cal's mournful expression and stopped. "Sorry. I'm not here to talk about that." A brief silence passed between them.
"Now you have a job," said Cal.
David sighed. "Right. I got an email one day. Nothing much to it, but I was desperate, so I took the gamble. And it paid off."
"What kind of job?"
"I can't tell you that yet. But the guy who took me on, he asked about you. He'd seen how smart you were, what you'd done in school, at the lab you work at, and was interested in you as well."
Cal raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?"
"Considering the job? I told them it was out of the question. You'd never feel good doing something like that."
"But what is it?"
"It's big, Cal. As in, worldwide big. Bunch of crazy, secret stuff. It's all for the greater good and whatnot, but you have your own standards." David chuckled. "You'd never take up something like this."
"Then why are you trying to persuade me to?" asked Cal, "You know my standards, you know how I feel about things, even if you don't agree. But while you're saying I won't want any part in this, you're also trying to convince me to join you. What's the point?"
David sighed. "Sister Batalon's talk-"
"You were listening?"
"She had some interesting stories. But she was talking about her son. He's killed people, Cal, and you know it. Do you think that makes him any worse of a person? Would you be willing to tell his mother that he's evil?"
"Because he's doing it for the right reasons. He's not a warmonger."
"Exactly. But I say, he kills a guy, no context, it always sounds bad." David popped his knuckles - a habit which he and Cal shared. "You sometimes hear things, stuff that people do, and you think that it's wrong, just at a glance. People say the same thing about you, what you believe, right?"
Cal nodded. "But are you saying that this will conflict with my faith? My standards?"
"No, Cal. Because you're a man of faith, not just in God, but in people. That's why I'm here. Because you trust me, you have faith in me."
For a few moments, they sat in silence. By this point, the rest of the ward was in their meetings or lessons. The only disturbance to Cal's thoughts was a man carrying a baby down the hall, softly singing to her as she slept. For a few moments, Cal prayed silently, asking for guidance.
"Davey."
"Yeah?"
"You can't tell me anything else about this, right?"
"Nope."
Cal put his hand on his brother's arm. "I need you to be honest with me. You know me, you know where I stand. If I took this offer, would I regret it?"
David sighed. "If I told you exactly what goes on there? You wouldn't go for it. But if you saw it for yourself, if you knew what you were doing, you wouldn't regret it."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Cal nodded. "Tell them I'm interested."
David nodded and stood up. Before he could leave, Cal said to him, "Davey."
He turned around. "Yeah?"
Cal hesitated. He wanted to say something, to make it better. David was right there, about to leave. Now was his last chance for who knew how long.
"Nothing, sorry," said Cal. "Here's to hoping I get the job."
David smiled. "I hope so." He walked out the door.

One (1) new message for Cal Bold!

All messages read.

To: Cal Bold
From: The SCP Foundation
Subject: Secure, Contain, Protect

Dear Mr. Bold,
You have been brought to our attention due to your outstanding academic record and your various personal achievements.
Recommendations by your brother, a current employee of our organization, were also helpful in making a decision. Mr. David Bold has already informed you of the sensitive nature of our organization, which is the reason we cannot provide you further information regarding us. We apologize for the inconvenience.
If you are interested, please reply to this message and we can schedule an interview. We will look forward to meeting you and working with you, Mr. Bold.
If you are not interested, please delete this message. Sharing this message is impossible, but attempting to do so will result in severe repercussions.
Sincerely, the SCP Foundation.

+ More by Calibold +

- More by Calibold -

Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page
— SCP Articles —

SCP-7178 — A Thief In The Night
SCP-7179 — E is for Eternity
SCP-6469-D — A BABY?????
SCP-2082 — Elephas cryophilus
SCP-6156 — Oh, Doug!
SCP-6579-D — The Detective Killer
SCP-6900-D — The House of Stars
SCP-5277 — What Can Go Wrong
SCP-5363-D — Controlled Containment
SCP-3482 — fine mayor posters campaign by dado
SCP-5156 — monke
Director Bold's Proposal-J — "Guys, please don't read our SCPs 🥺"
SCP-2693 — Fell Into The Well, Fell Into The Well, Fell Into The Deep Dark Well
SCP-5559-D — The Great Ambrose Bake-Off!
SCP-3448-J — Should Have Taken Him Sleeping
SCP-4456-D — No One Expects The Spanish Decommission!
SCP-4745 — Spooky Scary Snowman
SCP-4645 — Blackmailing Computer

— Tales —

OpusConfidant Wiki - SCP-4645 - Threatini
Diary Of An Existential Kid
Responsible Promotion
Friends Of Us Never Die
Truth Lies
A Team You Can (Maybe) Trust
Happy Father's Day
Mission: Decommission
A Bold Choice
I Am Become Death
Ulysses B. Donkman and the Heinous Hitman
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Eldritch (Sung to the tune of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas")
Chapter One - The End

— GoI Formats —

Manifest 476: Vanishing Galleon
The Book Of Mathisi, Chapter 1: The Parable Of The Three Princes
LTE-8686-Yellow-Kewpie
UIU File: 2001-023

— Other —

Mega Cool Customizable ACS Add-On Ver. 1.8.0 Guide
Decommissioning Department Hub
Fortune Favors
Decommissioning Dept. Theme
Mega Cool Customizable ACS Add-On Ver. 1.8.0
Mega Cool Author Page Tool Ver. 1.4.0
Calibold's Mega Cool Alternate SCP Logos Page
Calibold's Mega Cool Art Page (It's Mostly Just Icons, But Whatever, It's Still Mega Cool)

— Co-Authored —

Abraka David's Proposal — A Peak Behind the Curtain (feat. Ralliston, Placeholder McD, Guaire, Guezma, Jack Ike, Sherf, Yossipossi, Dr Balthazaar, Grigori Karpin, LORDXVNV, Lt Flops, Uncle Nicolini, Metaphysician)
SCP-7400 — Your Honor, League of Legends (feat. Sherf)
I, Hub (feat. many other authors)
Resurrection: New Faces (feat. Grigori Karpin, Nagiros, and redredred)
SCP-5545 — 𝙰 𝙱 𝙽 𝙾 𝚁 𝙼 𝙰 𝙻 𝙸 𝚃 𝚈 (feat. Yossipossi)
SCP-194 — Thank You For Your Cooperation (feat. CityToast)

— Foreign —
Director Bold's Proposal — Language
SCP-LA-II — Fruit

A Bold Choice | Responsible Promotion »


do you remember who you used to be?

¿ǝq oʇ pǝsn noʎ oɥʍ ɹǝqɯǝɯǝɹ noʎ op

I

12-04-1982

Dr. Choi,
Took me awhile, but I've managed to get you those tapes you were looking for. Burnt through my last bit of goodwill at the CIA but hey, you Arcadian guys know all about that anyway.
I know it's not my place, but what do you want this for, anyway? You can't get her back, we both know that. Even if you could, it's not exactly something Arcadia could replicate anymore. Shouldn't have to remind you that you're not on the Feds' dime, plus most of Dabney's equipment got confiscated after STELLA went belly-up. Turrell V. Wylie's still on "indefinite lockdown" after Young's little experiment. If you ask me, you're better off leaving this behind.
Cordially,
A Friend of a Friend

[Video Log/068-1980]

Foreword: Test was undertaken as a component of CIA Collaborative Project "JALÜ", designed to serve as a power conduit by feeding off the brainwaves of higher-dimensional entities.
Following the loss of Project Lead Gemma Young, the project was scrapped; several assets of the project were later involved in the development of Fishing Derby by Arcadia's Coin-Op Division.

[BEGIN LOG]

Camera activates, showing a dark room, with a large chair in the centre of the frame. Gemma Young can be seen in the background, speaking to Doctor Nelson Choi behind the camera. After several seconds of idle chatter, Young states the test designation and date before motioning to Test Subject-002 off-screen. An unknown entity can be seen moving around in the background of the frame before vanishing.
Dr. Choi guides Test Subject-002 up to the chair, securing him in place with several straps over the subject's arms, legs and torso. Choi leaves the frame for a minute before returning with a small catheter connected to an IV injection. He directs the subject to hold the catheter while he administers an anesthetic into the subject's arm via cannula. The subject vocalizes pain and begins writhing before being calmed.
Young applies several strokes of blood to Test Subject-002's skin, forming several occultist symbols on the subject's face, neck and arms. Test Subject-002 reacts with extreme apprehension and attempts to shy away from Young's hand. Young begins to chant. For several frames, a child's face can be observed looking in through a window in the door. Despite this being directly facing Dr. Choi, he does not appear to acknowledge the entity.
At this point during the experiment, listeners of the tape report being able to smell smoke. This smell reportedly becomes stronger as the experiment progresses, although all refuse to elaborate further beyond this point.
After several minutes of chanting, the symbols painted onto Test Subject-002 begin to faintly glow. A bright, white light begins to emanate from the eye cavities of both Young and Test Subject-002, consistently increasing in brightness. This light appears to be unnoticed by Young and she continues chanting. Test Subject-002 becomes agitated and begins attempting to slip out of the straps confining him to the chair.
The light emitted by the subjects' eyes becomes too bright to continue visual recording. Camera feed cuts out for approximately thirty seconds, although audio continues recording.
During this time,Test Subject-002's begins to scream. Dr. Choi can be heard attempting to leave the room behind the camera, although the door appears to have been locked from the outside.
Visual feed resumes. At this stage, Test Subject-002 is observed hovering above the chair, unable to move. Young's voice can be heard whispering from the left, although Young herself cannot be seen. Test Subject-002 begins to scream louder, his voice speaking in unison with Young's.
Visual feed cuts out for the final time. Both Test Subject-002 and Young can no longer be heard. A quiet weeping can be heard from Dr. Choi before auditory recording ceases.

[END LOG]

falling past transcendence

ǝɔuǝpuǝɔsuɐɹʇ ʇsɐd ƃuᴉllɐɟ

II

A long time ago, I forgot who I was.
I'm not sure if I can't move or if I've simply forgotten how. Witnessing the infinite misfiring of my synapses, over and over again until I don't know what's real anymore. Some half-dead thing at the end of a tether floating here at the end of two worlds.
It's a sea full of writhing schools of silver trout who play in the vast depths above me. I can't see the surface anymore, just the constant blinking stars behind my mind's eye. Nothing here but stars and trout drifting through the celestial currents all around me.
Who am I? I'm a grain of sand adrift in a void time will never know. I cannot be nothing; I am less than that.
I'm a fisherman cast out onto an empty sea to catch the stars.

an epilogue for Jason Reddeck

ʞɔǝppǝR uosɐſ ɹoɟ ǝnƃolᴉdǝ uɐ

III

Do you remember why you decided to be a writer?
You had always been a creative kid and you wanted to share your art with the internet. You didn't need to make money off of it, although part of you always craved fame and the attention that came with it. You were a kid, this was fun for you.
And when they said you had to stay inside, you didn't mind. You were a writer, someone who could make words at the tap of a keyboard. Or you were trying to be at least. It didn't matter either way, even if you were lonely, you could make your own fun.
You'd been writing online for months now, posting what you could onto cheap horror sites. It wasn't always that great, only a few of your stories still were visible for Joe Public to see. Tales where thinly-veiled versions of yourself were lauded as heroes for fighting the monsters that lurked behind every corner.
You're writing out one of those tales now, the exact details lost into a hazy memory. You get up to leave, to stretch. Nature calls, anyway. Once you come back, you notice someone else has been at work upon your draft. Wait? Someone else?
Your mind tinged with confusion, you type out a few words warily into the chat, an inquiry into an impossibility. Somewhere, a rusty old fishhook lodges its way into your cheek. But you don't notice. You never do.

rowjimmyrow 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:41:28 #10229387

How are you editing this? I didn't think you could do that.

They reply almost instantaneously. You turn your head, embedding the jagged tips of the fishhook farther into your mouth. If you really think about it, you can taste the metallic tang on the tip of your tongue.

deepskydiver 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:41:52 #99435900

Hello. You can hear me, right?

Well, that doesn't answer your question at all. You type out a response, your fingers dancing across the keyboard. The fishhook is stuck deep inside now. No use trying to get it out.

rowjimmyrow 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:42:16 #31891505

Yes? Is everything okay?

You press send and your mind collapses in on itself.
You don't let go of the mouse, can't fall off of your comfy gaming chair. You don't move but you can feel yourself falling further down, slipping between atoms through a dark and stormy sea. As you slip beneath the waves, you can feel you body move from violent thrashing to a gentle rhythm of half-hearted struggling, then finally nothing at all.
A creeping nothingness pulls at the edges of your vision as you sink further and further into the endless abyss between molecules. It drifts inward like mists on the breeze as your mind is compressed into something infinitely smaller from far beneath your feet. It's quicker than you would have liked, the finality of it all. It's over before you can even realize it, before what could be described as your body hits the cold linoleum floor of your imagination made real.
Somewhere, a fisherman left adrift on a cold and empty ocean smiles. A grain of sand caught a star in his net.

the whispers on the wind from castles on high

ɥƃᴉɥ uo sǝlʇsɐɔ ɯoɹɟ puᴉʍ ǝɥʇ uo sɹǝdsᴉɥʍ ǝɥʇ

IV

INCIDENT SUMMARY/███-A

On 11-19-1995, a deceased instance of SCP-███ spontaneously manifested at the former Turrell V. Wylie military base1. Due to the cadaver's pre-existing properties, a localized ZK-Class ("Reality Failure") Scenario occurred onsite.
[FURTHER INFORMATION RESTRICTED TO PERSONNEL WITH DOCUMENT CLEARANCE 5/███]
The aftermath of this incident has been provisionally designated as URA-041 until a full classification can be established. No personnel are permitted entry beyond the armed perimeter surrounding the former Turrell V. Wylie military base due to remaining reality distortion.
Proper alterations were made to Procedure ZK-███/ALPHA.

Footnotes
1. Consult documentation for SCP-2600 and GoI-078 for more information.