#when day breaks

[artcayt]

Little poster thing of SCP 001: When Day Breaks cause its rotting my brain

[gladosluver]

i promise i'll stop posting about daybreak eventually

[zealthewhatever]

Day broke again

[telleroftime]

You MLP Infection AU people are sleeping on a "When Day Breaks" AU. You're telling me that you're given the opportunity to play with Daybreaker, the Nightmare Moon version of Celestia, alongside a preexisting infection thing of a similar name and you're not taking it?? That specific SCP-001 is being served on a silver platter and if I have to be the one to take the bait then I shall.

[n-dreadful]

⠀Hiii! This is totally SCP fanart, and not an attempt at illustrating a sunset that a classmate told me looked like SCP fanart!（-＾〇＾-）

⠀

[love-letterworm]

scp-001 [ when day breaks ] alterhuman flag ; for when one has a nonhuman connection to scp-001

[ pt ] scp-001 [ when day breaks ] alterhuman flag ; for when one has a nonhuman connection to scp-001 [ end pt ]

tagging : @radiomogai

[ pt ] tagging : @ radiomogai [ end pt ]

[ im sorry , but your computer does not support id . any help would be appreciated . ]

[ pt ] [ im sorry , but your computer does not support id . any help would be appreciated . ] [ end pt ]

[whostheothermes]

"SCP-001 is the designation given to the motherfucking Sun."

[nxx99yt]

First post in months (I rarely post on tumblr)

[realm-sweet-realm]

Head canons on scp 106 and the lady from when day breaks?

Sure thing! I don't know how much is known about the lady, but here goes!

For context, "When Day Breaks" is an event in the SCP universe in which the sun becomes dangerous and causes humans to mutate and fuse together into monsters.

-The lady is a soul from heaven- specifically, an angel who judged the sins of the recently deceased and decided whether they'd cross the pearly gates. The rules of the universe changed when the sun became violent, which allowed her to descend to Earth to save people. She views it as an extension of her sacred duty, as those who are affected by the violent sun are not only in pain but have their souls distorted and cannot experience an afterlife.

-It was a mission that the lady was not prepared for. Judging souls and casting them into nothingness if they were found wanting was one thing... but leaving those she could not let into heaven to suffer on this hellish parody of earth until they disintegrate, body and soul? That hurt. But she hated the bloody process of killing people, and found herself unable to do it unless the person would be let into heaven. That's where the old man came in.

When the lady found the old man in his prison within the SCP foundation, it was the same way she found any other human soul. But when she judged him, she could see all he'd done and all he was capable of, and she realized he had a place in her mission.

-She struck a deal with the old man. She cannot allow him into heaven, but she can protect him and take him on her journey. He would take all the people they found into his dimension. Those who were worthy, he would kill straight away so they could reach heaven. Those who weren't, he could keep for a while. The torture the old man was capable of was, at very least, better than what the world had become.

-The old man ran a hard bargain. He wanted to be able to torture everyone for at least a while, and those who were unworthy for as long as he wanted. Reluctantly, the lady agreed.

-Neither she nor the old man are affected by the sun, because neither of them are technically alive. Together, they roam through the wastes of the world, searching for humans to save. Eventually, humanity learned to summon them when all hope was lost, making their task a bit easier.

-Their arrangement is not without significant moral cost to the lady. For allowing the old man to torture and kill, she will almost certainly not be allowed back into heaven. But she'd rather cease to exist than have to kill with her own hands anymore, or to leave the unworthy to suffer. The lady tries to teach the old man compassion, but she is wholly unsuccessful.

-The two get along fairly decently when they're not having moral debates, which is often. They exchange stories, the lady of heaven and the old man of war.

-The old man knows now that if he dies, he'll just cease to exist. He's glad for that. He thought he would go to Hell if there was one. That's a load off his shoulders.

[obscure-fandom]

Calling SCP Artists!

To introduce ourselves to the SCP fandom, hello! We are ObscureFandom and we create tarot decks to raise money for charity! We've already done one deck and are finally ready to start our newest and biggest project: an SCP Tarot Deck!Our chosen charities this time are RAINN and the Kidney Cancer Association with a 50/50 split just like our last tarot deck. As always, 100% of our profits are donated to these charities.

Sporting 78 cards, we need as many artists and volunteers as we can get! Thanks to the Creative Commons license that the SCP Wiki operates under, every article on the SCP Wiki is able to be used with credit. All artists and authors will of course be credited in a booklet included with the deck!

If you're an artist, tarot pro, PR master, or just wanting to check out the progress of the deck, please join the Discord and help spread the word!

[anonymouseal]

Just found out about her backstory... damn.

[occasionalsnippets]

I have a question what happens to the ancient eldritch MC thats in the forest chilling when SCP-001 (when day break happens) do they help do they just chill minding their own business what do they do?

It starts as a sort of “huh so this is how it’s gonna be” when it happens. They’re perfectly fine as expected and so is most of their forest. They don’t go out of their way to help but they do pick off the people exposed to the sun.

[gladosluver]

yk its bad when im daybreak posting again

i love you flesh wife ugihohuihohu ❤️🌅

[apocalyptic-lamp-001]

damn you look STRONG

DO I NOW?

[worldwide-simp]

Diary of the inferior

Scp x reader

(isn't really proof-read )

This is something I had written a few words of, stored in my drafts and didn't let it see the light of day (see what I did there hehe) for some time. But I have now finished it (kinda) and its certainly one of my longest pieces. 

(The first few entries are short and poorly written, but it becomes better after some time.)

warnings: gore, kinda pessimistic views, I hate Entry 1 with all my heart, false reality, violence, euthanasia, body horror, religious talk, death.

Scp 105 is post Omega-7, she’s 24 here.

Entry 1: New Beginnings

Dear Diary, 

Maybe I should’ve listened when people told me to never take strange job opportunities.  

I thought it was perfect, I was working in a shop on minimum wage, and I could barely afford simple life necessities.

I still had to pay off my student debt and that made life all the harder. When I saw this strange opportunity presented to me by a shady caucasian man, I believed that this would be my saving light. 

I wish I had been shot that day. A bullet mysteriously found its way into my skull. A news reported merely stated it was an accident; or running from that horrid officer only to “disappear” and never see the light of day again.

I just wish that death had claimed me as one of their countless victims before immortality and the infinite loop of time laid hands upon me.

—-

Entry 2: the flower of beloved Iris

Dear Diary, 

On my photo ID, there was my smiling face. It was a smile of pure joy. You could glance at it and call it cheeky if you dared. But I was merely innocent. Innocent as a human could be. 

After the photo had been taken, I was briefed on what I’d be doing. A rambling speech about the foundation's lack of care for qualified staff and instead people with logic and reasoning. 

That gave you a fighting chance, because how bad could this job be if you just needed a little logic?  I met a girl a few weeks later. I always wondered why she had that camera with her. Perhaps it had been a dear hobby of hers? 

I found out my presumption was wrong when she took a photograph of a flower in a vase some distance away, took the picture out and then proceeded to stick her hand in the image; giving me the flower after twirling it in her fingers. 

Iris seemed proud of making me joyful, I believed I laughed all night. I later placed the flower on my desk, and even after it wilted and its petals fragile and bleak; I still folded it into my pocket and to this day it still resides there. 

She was more on the quiet side but still gave me those sad smiles with dimples on her cheeks.  I had distinctively remembered wondering about the cause of those scars on her eyelid, jaw and hands.  — 

Entry 3: false reality

Dear Diary, 

I found out Iris was an anomaly; an Scp, if you wanted a more precise definition. This was told to me by a person higher on the foundation hierarchy for its staff. Not Iris herself. 

Was I slightly hurt? Yes. 

It had left me staring into a void, although I had seen her camera doing its magic. I must have created some false reality in my head that explained this bizarre situation. 

At the time, I was scrawling through my notebook with such vigour it was comparable to an inspired writer. I was not inspired in a awestriking way. Simply wanting to write about my trepidations concerning this topic and send the letter to me in a shitty way of making myself laugh.

(Mind you, if you too were stuck as a lab assistant watching sentient doughnuts bite people, you almost certainly develop terrible humour.)

—

Entry 4: the beginning of the end

Dear Diary, 

Something strange had occurred.

I had been assigned a mission. Naturally I was confused. Lab assistants being assigned things other than cleaning up the blood after cross-testings? It was something I found most peculiar. 

They, (foundation staff),had suited me up in some strange black equipment, handed me a gun and pushed me over to some people waiting inside a black van.

I don't even have a formal qualification to handle a gun; I had screamed. Why would this be happening? I remember saying that to myself. over and over again.

A pathetic mantra that I so feebly considered answered by the many voices in my head. I cried. Then I wiped the liquid with my hand; I had refused the notion that I was a weak, feeble creature hiding the true meaning of my nature. 

When I really was just that. 

All those other people had kept their heads down, mindlessly fidgeting with their hands or drumming their fingers nervously on the knee. I merely stared at the wall, already feeling the sensation of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

I didn't know them, and at this rate; I would never.

—

Entry 5: pathetic chess games

Dear diary, 

They had gotten off the van, dressed in full tactical gear and shivering with a dreadful fear. This situation felt wrong and I memorized the look of someone who knew too much. It was in a puddle of water. It was my face.

Perhaps I was seeing the foreshadows of fate that dangled right in front of my eyes. But I saw nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing. This was all one of the many cruel games the foundation played, killing people as if they were mere chess pieces. 

All just to win to the game, only for another to proceed after that.

—

Entry 6: the majority and the minority

Dear Diary, 

 Scp-001 S. D. Locke’s proposal is one of the many 001 proposals that exist: detailing the sun becoming a hostile being that eradicates human beings, converts them into sentient piles of flesh which aim to find unconverted humans and drag them into the sunlight, for them too to become those hideous masses of skin. 

The scenario occurred in my timeline, at first I didn't know what was happening, only that the other staff members had screamed about the light being good and holy before I heard the most awful noises.

It squelched, moaned and cried. I suppressed gags and muffled my mouth with a cloth. What the fuck was happening? Where had they all gone? Why do they sound not human anymore?

I had ran out from the cover of the van to shield under the safety of a building, not before looking back and laying my eyes upon a horror of flesh melting away under the rays of the hostile sun, dragging its amorphous clumps of bodies towards me. 

They had once been human like myself. I had only saved myself but not them. I should go join them to redeem myself to the judging light and have my sins cleansed. I was a wretched human not worthy of being alive. 

I kept on running, determined to never let the sun touch my skin ever again. I had slammed the door of the building. It was desolate and empty. When I’d step on the ground too hard, I could hear the echoes of the impact.

The was a distinctive waft of bleach, specifically chlorine that reminded me of swimming pools. There was a lack of furnacing; which reminisced the not-so-distant memory of my office. I took shallow breaths, slumping down to the ground and rubbing a sore ligament. 

This was a weak thing a human could do, but I sobbed. I cried and cried until I felt like everything went numb. But it cleared my mind slightly, feeling less like a suffocating cloth and more so like a haze of cloud. 

I felt around in my breast pocket, closing my fingers around a packet and tearing it off and chewed on the granola bar slowly. My mouth felt dry and my throat burned, however, despite the lack of comfort, I still ate. 

I pondered on what I could do. Could I stay here and call for backup or try to find someone who was still alive? 

I sighed, then fiddled with the packet from the granola bar. Was I at fault for my comrades being turned into those abominations of flesh? I could've saved them; told them to stay inside the van and that I’d go out and check. It would’ve resulted in my death, but wasn't appeasing the majority a more important factor than the minority? 

—

Entry 7: The silence of the lamb

Dear Diary,  

I had a radio that I had snatched last minute from the van before dashing off. I had tried reaching out to anyone I could. But there was only silence.

—

Entry 8: Nihilism

Dear Diary, 

I had successfully contacted a person without being disoriented by loud static. I heard heavy breathing, it was loud and quite alarming. There was a persistent sloshing of liquid in the background. It was quiet for a few seconds; eerily quiet. Before someone spoke. 

“You are alone. You will stay forever alone if you do not accept the beautiful light. Go outside.” 

I threw the radio to a corner of the room, and it broke into several pieces. The voice didn't sound human anymore, it was distorted with an otherworldly passion. I was so blinded by the anger that had irrationally consumed me for a second I broke my only means of communication.  

Maybe I would be truly alone if I didn't go outside.

There was nothing to live for anymore.

—

Entry 9: kiss away the gore

Dear Diary, 

If loneliness was the way I would die, perhaps it would be better to perish in the sun than of hunger and the echoing quiet. I lived in cowardliness and fear. I can be free where I belong. 

I opened the door I had blocked two days ago. Such a feeble mind, but I had found revelation.  I will cleanse my body of this impurity, harbouring sins and the devil's hands caressing my skin. 

I will burn it all away. 

This was the only way I would be accepted, then I’d find peace. 

I stepped into the sunlight and stared at the scarlet sun's beauty. I felt my skin being pulled apart, melting into a puddle of goo, bones liquefying and a boiling feeling. My human mouth shrieked, but that was insignificant. My fingers merged together before becoming a singular stump and my body was crafted new.

There was an agony I couldn't describe in words. No matter how many times I may rip out this page and rewrite it countless times, no work of poetry could ever shed light on the feeling. 

My body was crafted pristine, I now moved surprisingly fast. The puddle of goo had moulded itself into the body of my absolute nature. I sought new flesh. That I would bind myself to another pure being. 

Later, I stumbled across a facility devoid of people, there were only pools of blood on the floor. The once pure white walls had undertones of fleshy colours. If I were still human, I would've gagged at the goriness of it all.

But I didn't, instead I lurked deeper into the building. A net ensnared my body all of a sudden, and I choked out a throaty snarl. A familiar figure loomed over me, with a knife poised at my throat. 

I gnashed my fleshy teeth together, reaching out to capture this impure human and bring it to the light. But the creases under their eyes faded, tossed the knife to the side and removed the netting. 

What was this revolting human doing-

I was engulfed in an embrace, a hand of theirs resting on the small of my back and the other placed upon my throat, pushing it back. Almost as if it was endeavouring for me not to rip out their face.

“I can't believe something like this could happen to such a beautiful person like you.” They murmured, gripping my body tighter like I would dissolve into ash at any moment. My jaw snapped abruptly and they hushed me. 

I heard the shuffling of fabric. Cool metal grazed my face before I heard them speak again; “It must be painful for you, I’ll shoot you so you can rest peacefully.” 

Then they squeezed my back with such gentleness it would be hard to imagine that someone like this would shoot me. 

The last things I felt were the soft fluttering of my dead heart, a soft kiss on the lips and seeing their appearance one more time. Admiring their shortly cut blond hair, scars adorning their face and cerulean blue eyes. 

Those beloved dimples showed as they smiled so miserably at the prospect of being alone once again. But this was for your sake. 

“Wait-”

She pulled the trigger. 

And you saw nothing. 

[angrydino42-and-avathecannibal]

When I finished season one of the Magnus archives (don’t spoil, I’m gathering information and making connections between notes before I move onto the next season) I realised that I want to Succumb to The Worms. this always happens to me

The prospect of becoming something greater than yourself, shedding your human skin and flesh prison and be loved for all eternity is too tantalising. this is autism I believe

it’s nice and warm outside. The sun is shining and everything is beautiful

Autistic people will either relate to the idea of being eternally embraced and loved by something out of their comprehension, which physically changes them, maybe not in a godly way but in the colony hivemind way where there’s happiness forever and understanding

or they’ll relate to mimicry of “lower” beings who want to so desperately be human and live the lives they were promised, they will try even if it kills them. the inhuman desire to be what is defined as human or “normal” due to alienation of differentness

Where either option is impossible for one to truly accomplish

Pick your poison. When Day Breaks or Nothing There

Jane Prentiss or AM. you know. you get the idea