clefs--ukulele

[clefs--ukulele]

I finally wrote more stuff. SCP one-shots with a reader, working on other staff members, I think Clef will probably be next (can't have SCP without him), but currently have Bright, Shaw, Iceberg, and Kondraki. First introductions!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!!!

Dr. Jack Bright

As you opened the door to Site-17, you were greeted by a rush of cold air and glaring fluorescent light biting at your eyes. A tall ginger man with strikingly green eyes and glasses with a cracked lens stopped you at the door, flashing a charming, yet insincere grin. In his hand was a surgical scalpel, although you did not know what he was using it for, nor did you want to.

“Who are you? Wait, wait, don’t tell me… [REDACTED], I presume?”

“Yes, that’s me. Um, please stop pointing that at me.”

“Ah, whatever. Sue me. I’m Dr. Bright, Jack Bright. And this…” 

He pulled an intricate silver amulet with small, clear gems you assumed to be diamonds decorating the edges and a large centerpiece ruby out from under his hastily buttoned-up coat that happened to not be compliant with the dress code. “This is my favorite thing in the world, I totally love it so much, y’know? More than barbecue sauce. God, I hate barbecue sauce, it’s pretty good. You wanna touch it?”

“I… No, not-”

“C’mon, really? Doesn’t it look so cool?”

“I’m sure.”

“You wanna touch it. I know you do.”

“I really don’t.”

“Ah, fine. Whatever. You’ll do well here, kid.”

“You don’t look any older than me…”

“Things aren’t ever as they seem here. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it eventually. Oh, by the way, there’s a guy I know, Dr. Iceberg, he’s stationed here temporarily. He’s real good at paperwork. If you ever need someone to do your work, go find him, trust me.”

He smiled and left you alone, walking like he had somewhere to be, joined by a grinning blond man with a ukulele in his arms and a shotgun strapped to his back. You heard Bright mutter, “Fifty bucks says that kid doesn’t make it a week,” followed by grating laughter from the other man. You felt mildly offended, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Dr. Elias Shaw

On your way to your office, you were stopped by a short woman, her auburn hair put up neatly in a bun. “Oh, a new transfer? I think I've heard of you. Dr. [REDACTED]?” She spoke with a calm voice, tapping her pen against a clipboard in her hand.

“Yes ma’am, and you?”

“I’m Dr. Shaw, Elias Shaw.”

You caught a glimpse of a shimmering sapphire amulet, strikingly similar to one owned by an acquaintance of yours, Dr. Bright’s, underneath her buttoned-up lab coat. 

“...Oh. Nice to meet you.”

As soon as she noticed you staring, she pulled her collar back over it. The tapping sped up, and she glanced around warily. Something seemed off about her. Shaw took a deep breath before she turned on her heel and quickly walked away. 

You glanced around the corner to make sure nobody would pop out of nowhere and attack you, as they had at your old station at Site 5 [Note: “We would like to reiterate that there is not and has never been a Site 5.” -Dr. Gears].

Dr. Julian Ellis "Iceberg"

Walking around the labyrinthine site was always maddening. scattering papers everywhere. He scoffed, rewrapping his scarf around his neck and feeling around the floor for his glasses. You picked them up and handed them to him. “I don’t need your help. And watch where you’re going, [EXPLETIVE REMOVED].” He put his glasses back on, looked up, paused, and cleared his throat.

 “Huh. I don't think I've seen you before. Who are you?”

“[REDACTED], I’m working under Dr. Kondraki.”

“I see. I'm under Gears and I think of setting him on fire every day.”

“...What?”

“It doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm the only normal one here. All those other staff are fully insane, except Break. She’s my girlfriend. Oh, and also, stay out of my way. I don't have time for this.” 

You kneeled down to help him. “You have a lot of paperwork,” you said, impulsively pointing out what was very clear. “No [EXPLETIVE REMOVED],” he snapped. “Is she really your girlfriend?” You thought you were being stupid until he said, “Well, not officially. But she loves me, I can tell.”

As he picked up the last paper and you handed him the stack you’d collected, he turned away. Something about him kind of threw you off. Maybe it was his initial rudeness, or the fact that the air around him seemed oddly cold. He stopped in his tracks and added, “One more thing. If you see Gears anywhere, put in a good word for me, will you? I swear, I’m always so close to getting a promotion, and then that [EXPLETIVE REMOVED] Clef gets all the praise and honor. The O5 have to cave sometime.” He didn’t even stop for a response. 

Dr. Benjamin Kondraki

You were given a task by Dr. Clef involving Kondraki. Not that you wanted to complete it, however, you wanted to get away from him as fast as possible, as he was in a foul mood and there was a suspicious lack of shotguns, so you took it. The box you were given was badly wrapped in dark green paper and adorned with a bow that was hastily stapled on, skewed slightly to the left. The box was also moving, like it contained a feral animal. Holding the box securely against your chest with one arm, you knocked on a wooden door with a silver nameplate bolted onto it reading, “Dr. Benjamin Kondraki: King of the Butterflies Booooterflies”. The last part was scrawled onto the plate with black sharpie, and someone had drawn a green butterfly on a piece of lined paper and taped it to the door. Was “King of the Booooterflies” really in his job description?

You knocked. It was followed up with a cough and the sound of someone shuffling to the door. A man with signs of age on his face, long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, and a beard opened the door. He was holding a camera. A wall of vibrant green butterflies covered the doorway, which he quickly dispersed with a wave of his hand. “What do you want?” Well, he certainly wasn’t the most polite person in the world, but it seemed difficult to maintain sanity after a while of simply existing in the Foundation’s sites. You hesitated before responding, “Dr. Clef asked me to drop this off to you. I’m not really sure what it is, but-” “That son of a [EXPLETIVE REMOVED]. Here, give him this.” He snatched the box, handing you one that seemed just as terribly prepared as the one Clef had given you. It was not moving this time, but it was shotgun-shaped. Kondraki slammed the door shut, before promptly cracking it open to let in a butterfly he had accidentally locked out.

[clefs--ukulele]

My brain is so scp fried that every time I see man in lab coats, I'm convinced it's a scp foundation reference

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Idk if I'm just dumb but I just realized that Clef's repulsion of woman is the opposite to Meri's original attraction of men. And how her mother, lily, more than like had that same power.

Side note, but I hate how forgotten this part of clef is. Like I get why it is, nobody ever wants to think about how they be repulsed by their fav. But lowkey in that same breath. I'm pretty sure that it's one of Clef's many trauma responses, just a trauma response, soo..

[clefs--ukulele]

More people need to depict Dr. Glass as a POC.

.

[clefs--ukulele]

I know Clef has no cannon and all, but it always shakes me to my core when I remember anything about him potential being british. Like in my head, that man is as southern as can be. Like maybe I'm just projecting cause I'm southern. And he has this whole thing about hating Texas but... He also wears a cowboy hat and has a shot gun on him at all times. If that's not southern I don't know what is 😪

[clefs--ukulele]

Was there really ever anyone?

[clefs--ukulele]

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE CLEF BODY PILLOW

The way kondraki in his blog talks about clef and the way author clef talks about clef in his blog is actually so far removed its fascinating. Like kondraki will go on and on about how sharp-minded and cold clef is and author clef is just like "oh yeah he hates american football" or "he just eats steak alone in his room on valentine day" or smth

(Real ones know both are true at the same time)

[clefs--ukulele]

The way kondraki in his blog talks about clef and the way author clef talks about clef in his blog is actually so far removed its fascinating. Like kondraki will go on and on about how sharp-minded and cold clef is and author clef is just like "oh yeah he hates american football" or "he just eats steak alone in his room on valentine day" or smth

(Real ones know both are true at the same time)

[clefs--ukulele]

I just noticed that most people make clef's hazel eye his third eye. Like most of the time, his main 2 are green and blue

[clefs--ukulele]

Стопка

You will NOT guess what I've done...

Here's the Strelknov-Reader fic lmaoo. This is a little shorter than I was hoping, but I will give this another chapter at least

Cross-posted on Ao3

Site-19 was larger than you could ever imagine. You worked at a dinky site back in your home country, and now you were bundled up as you entered into the largest Site in the whole of the Foundation. The middle of Siberia was beautiful, coated in a thick, untouched layer of snow. The kind that's so perfect it makes you want to run off and ruin it, some primal itch that has you having to take a deep breath to root yourself to the ground where you’re walking in.

You’ve heard so much about this place, all the stuff that they house here and the names of the people that work there. So many of them are well-known and famous, even if many of them went between -19 and -17 often.

It was some big celebration, something classified the 05s are doing. Maybe building a new Site? Maybe something big like -19? You don’t know, to be honest. That’s how it works, they make you do something and yet never explain why to you because it’s “classified”. However, you knew how rare it was to ever even see Site-19 in person, despite how many people worked there.

The Foundation had many, many, many, employees. Some worked on the various smaller Sites, some on Site-19, and there was a small portion of people who worked in government facilities as double agents. You don’t know a lot about that, never having done it. Again, classification makes information harder to pass between people. You pass by the outside training area, following the flood of people that are spilling into the entrance of the Site. You, however, pause as you hear a shout over the landscape. You turn, looking through the fences as you catch the movement of people running on the track. At first, you feel bad for the agents out there. It’s freezing, and you know that your body warms up as you work out, but still. In the snow?

Then you see the man yelling. He’s standing off to the side, a black mass on the ground that is probably a jacket of some form. His shirt is tight, a size or two too small considering how obviously buff he is. He’s facing away from you, so you can only see the way the shirt is stretched over his back and arms.

“Checking out Strelnikov?” A voice comes from behind you, and you flinch back. You whip around to see who is pointing this out. A woman, with blonde hair pulled back into a lab-safe style stands behind you. You think for a moment, trying not to embarrass yourself.

“No,” You shake your head quickly, trying to stop yourself from blubbering or stammering over any words. “I was just curious about what they were doing outside in the cold here, and he’s barely clothed!” It isn’t inherently true, he is fully clothed, just thinly. There’s snow on the ground for god’s sake, and yet he’s standing there in just a t-shirt.

“That’s what the nurses say, too,” The woman huffs. “And the Site-17 medbay is always understaffed.”

You look away. Back to Strelnikov - while you’re trying to remember where you’ve heard that name before - so you don’t have to admit to this stranger the truth about what you’re thinking.

“Does it matter?” You ask her, trying to take control back, or at least seem semi-stable and capable of taking control of situations. You catch the movement of her shaking her head from the corner of your eye.

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you,” She replies, even though you’re fairly certain that is a lie. “You were just in the way. Plenty of people do that often. You couldn’t imagine the struggle I have trying to find him when something is important.”

You furrow your brow and turn back to her, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he’s always sleeping around,” She shrugs, saying it as if it means nothing. “You should go inside, you’ll be able to check him out at the party, well,” She cracks a smile, before starting to walk away. After a moment of standing there, you follow her, deciding not to stand in the way of anyone else.

You look nice, you can say that. Fancy clothes, nicely fitted. You can afford it now that you work at the Foundation. You don’t need them often, but everyone is dressed well now. A little too well dressed to be at something that could be described as this - people were drunk, obviously so, as well as dancing dirty. You squeeze past a couple, making your way to the bar. You order from the nice, grinning bartender who makes your drink as quickly as possible.

A hulking form moves in next to you as you're handed your drink. “Стопка,” A deep, gruff voice orders the bartender. You turn, looking back at the man behind you. His face is broad, his bone structure prominent. His hair is short, buzzed on the side, and grays are starting to spring up in the roots of his hair. He's in a simple, white undershirt with no jacket. It's slightly too small for him, showing off the defined musculature underneath - nothing unusual for the career path you had chosen, but still noticeable with his age.

“Of course, sir,” The bartender responds cheerfully. He pours a shot - and then a few more - before placing them in front of the man.

“And the usual for the bastard,” He huffs, waving his hand. He reaches out, taking the first shot in one expert gulp. He slams the glass down, glancing to you once he does. A brief glimpse of amusement graces his face, his teeth glinting metallicly in the light. His eyes shine mirthfully, “Hello,” He greets, scanning over your features. When you go to meet his eyes, his gaze slides against yours, missing making direct contact. You can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, but it does give you a good look at his long eyelashes and shiny, grey eyes. He reaches his hand up, but he doesn’t touch you, “Sorry, I did not mean to crowd you, hm?” He moves back a bit, giving you more space. Something about it was oddly charming.

“It’s okay,” You reply, scooting your chair to give him more space. He once again fills the space, taking a second shot. You feel the butterflies from earlier return, as you look over him. You debate, for a long moment, before you take a long breath. “What's your name?” You ask, trying to sound more confident than you actually are.

“Strelnikov, Dmitri Arkadeyevich,” He practices in a trained manner, something you can tell he repeats every time he introduces himself. Not that you're thinking about it over the fact that this is the guy you were totally checking out earlier. When he offers his hand, you take it. You almost expect from looking at him - rough, nearing fifties, Russian man who has some military training - that his grip would be hand-breaking, painful. But he's surely aware of your bones. It's by no means gentle, but you know this construction is far from as tight as he could go. You tell him your name, and he briefly smiles. “Nice name, very fitting,” His accent causes the words to have a stiff, staccato sound to them.

The more pieces that came together the more and more you feel you're fighting not to kick your legs and giggle. You shift on the stool, as he asks you simple questions. Just getting to know you stuff: “What Site do you work at?”, “What department are you in?”, but the conversation is cut short. The drink is handed to him, and he checks it over. It looks terrible and smells just as bad, but it isn't for him.

“It appears I must go. Clef will be unhappy if he waits any longer,” He tells you, apologetically. So that's what you know him from. “But, if you would like,” He shrugs. “My room number is 6299, on the personnel level,” He tells you as if it's the most casual thing in the world. “Knock and I will answer.”

He leaves without waiting for a response, disappearing into the crowd.

It's better not to bother Clef, anyway.

[clefs--ukulele]

The amount of toxicity in this fandom is akin to cancer tumors in a dying horse

[clefs--ukulele]

I know I'm supposed to be a clef blog but strelnikov really is my fav little guy

[clefs--ukulele]

Sorry I'm a day late but

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!!

[clefs--ukulele]

something I love about the SCP foundation is how it's realistically corrupt. It traumatizes it's creatures through unethical tests (054, the water nymph, is the first that comes to mind. Poor girl :( ) with little to no care for their trama. It collects prisoners to use in unethical testing where they'll all die, with the justification of "Well if they're in these prisons, they're bad people, so it's probably fine," which just straight up ignores criminal injustice lol. They're a GOVERMNET organization. They kidnap people to literally remove any of their memories relating to an SCP, including their family if the SCP killed them. They justify all of this via "were keeping the world safe from these freaks!!". There's good people in their who just work for a bad system but they perpetuate it. It's evil, by all means. It's kinda just special creature cops.

All of this to say, if people in the SCP universe knew about the foundation, they'd be a bunch of people saying ASAB

All SCP foundationites are bastards

[clefs--ukulele]

I'm not saying that he doesn't understand the problem of the US government banning a whole ass app, I just think he would jump at the chance to tell someone to touch grass

Clef would be the type of guy to make fun of people for caring about the tiktok ban

[clefs--ukulele]

Clef would be the type of guy to make fun of people for caring about the tiktok ban

[clefs--ukulele]

I do actually think the foundation leans a little more towards the "evil" side than people would like to admit. But this is coming from a serpents hand truther soo.. like I'm just saying 'cold, not cruel' is so much bullshit.