AntiS0cial

Selene's redesign reference sheet

-Dr Bright: Black coffee, blood, cedarwood, amber, metal

-Dr. Gears: Ink, graphite, books, white tea, linen

-Dr. Clef: Cigarettes, gun power, smoke, tabacco, leather

-Dr. Kondraki: Whisky, cigarettes, amber, leather, oakmoss

-Dr. Iceberg: Snow, eucalyptus, pine, mint, musk

-Dr. Rights: Pearblossom, jasmine, green tea, orchid, iris

-Dr. Light: Magnolia, honey, vanilla, lily-of-the-valley, neroli

-Dr. Glass: Lavender, earl grey, sandalwood, linen, cashmere

-Dr. Paradox: Coffee, cardamom, bergamot, cedarwood, tonka bean

-Dr. Kazan: Wisteria, belladonna, peony, musk, deadly nightshade

-Dr. Trebuchet: Lemon vest, lavender, cypress, violent leaf

-Dr. Roth: Vetir, bergamot, amber, juniper, cypress

-Dr. King: Apple, oakmoss, frankincense, sandalwood, earl grey

-Dr. Edison: Peppermint, pink pepper, black tea, citrus, amber

-Dr. Mann: Mahogany, leather, cardamom, black pepper, leather

-Dr. Cimmerian: Tabacco, ink, books, vetir, stone slate

-Dr. Gerald: Aldehyde, blood, lavender, dry woods, ambergris

Original vs Redesign

-Dr. Bright is known to have an extensive knowledge of pop culture references, often quoting movies and songs inappropriately during serious meetings, which both annoys and amuses his colleagues.

-Gears is a meticulous planner, and he keeps a detailed journal of every experiment he conducts. He believes that documenting every detail helps prevent future anomalies and ensures that knowledge is preserved for future researchers.

-Clef has a ritual of visiting the containment chambers of SCP-999 on a weekly basis, believing that the creature's happiness is a barometer for the well-being of the Foundation as a whole.

-Every evening, after a long day of containment procedures and scientific analysis, Dr. Kondraki has a surprisingly meticulous routine of tending to a small, unassuming bonsai tree in his private quarters. He often finds a quiet solace in its slow, deliberate growth, a stark contrast to the volatile nature of his work.

-Dr. Iceberg doesn’t form many bonds, but when he does, they are absolute. If someone earns his trust, he becomes quietly protective in a way that’s almost invisible—until someone else tries to endanger them.

-Many young researchers arrive at the Foundation completely unprepared for what they’re about to experience. Dr. Glass quietly keeps an eye on them. He’s the kind of person who notices when someone looks exhausted, overwhelmed, or frightened. He may not confront them directly, but he’ll find a way to check in.

-Dr. Paradox can identify when someone is lying within minutes of speaking to them—not because he has some supernatural ability, but because he’s spent years studying microexpressions, speech patterns, and behavioral inconsistencies.

-Dr. Rights has a terrifying “Mom Voice”. Most personnel know Dr. Rights as kind and patient, but when someone crosses a line? Everything changes. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t threaten. She simply uses a very specific tone. The moment that voice appears, entire rooms go silent.

-Dr. Light has a locked desk drawer that everyone assumes contains classified documents. In reality, it’s filled with candy, energy bars, and emergency chocolate for long research nights.

-Despite his reputation, Dr. Gerald is actually very careful when working with genuinely dangerous anomalies. The reckless behavior usually appears during lower-risk testing. When something poses a serious threat, he becomes surprisingly focused and professional.

-Dr. Trebuchet's colleagues swear she doesn’t sleep. Not in the metaphorical “I work too hard” way—more like she schedules sleep the way most people schedule dental appointments: reluctantly, and only when forced by medical personnel or an SCP with memetic influence that induces unconsciousness.

-Dr. King prefers long-term containment cases where he can build patterns over time. Rapid crisis response situations frustrate him—not because he can’t handle them, but because he considers them “statistically noisy.”

-Dr. Edison has a habit of naming experiments after mundane objects (“Toaster Protocol,” “Desk Lamp Scenario,” “Kettle Run”), which deeply confuses junior researchers until they realize the names are usually the only non-lethal thing about them.

-Dr. Cimmerian is surprisingly tolerant of ethical debates, but only up to a point. Once a discussion starts looping, he tends to end it with variations of: “We are not doing philosophy with a contained memetic hazard. We are doing paperwork so we don’t all die.”

-Dr. Mann has an unnerving habit of remembering people’s baseline vitals without ever looking at a file twice. Staff swear he once corrected a nurse’s charting error just by glancing at a hallway interaction.

-Dr. Roth is known for never raising her voice. Ever. In fact, multiple personnel files note that she maintains the same tone whether she’s discussing lunch plans or a containment breach involving a reality-eating manuscript.

SCP-166

The first thing Selene Kazan noticed was the silence. Not the kind she knew from her laboratory—the measured quiet of controlled experiments—but something heavier. Engineered. The absence of familiar hums, vents, distant alarms. Even the air felt wrong, filtered too aggressively, too clean in a way that suggested restraint rather than safety.

Her second realization came a fraction of a second later: Her wrists were no longer free.

She didn’t move immediately. She tested first—subtle flex of fingers, slight rotation of her shoulders. Restraints. Secure but not painful. Professional. Intentional.

Then memory caught up.

The escort team. The “Foundation representatives.” The refusal to relocate her research willingly. The syringe she had seen too late to avoid—

Her eyes snapped open.

Bright overhead lighting washed the room in sterile white. A containment medical chamber, not her lab. Not her world.

And standing just beyond arm’s reach was the first person she saw.

Tall. Calm posture. Hands visible, nonthreatening. Dark coat slightly wrinkled like he had been here longer than he intended to be. Observing.

A man she didn’t recognize.

That was enough.

Selene moved instantly.

The restraints weren’t designed for her kind of force, not fully. She twisted hard, leveraging momentum, yanking one arm free just enough to swing.

Her fist connected with his jaw.

The impact echoed sharply in the room.

The man staggered back half a step—not falling, not retaliating. Just absorbing it. His head turned slightly with the strike, then corrected itself with unnerving composure.

Behind him, containment personnel shifted forward—

“Stand down,” the man said calmly.

Not to her.

To them.

Selene surged again, but the restraints tightened, compensating for the breach. Her breathing sharpened, eyes locked on him now. Calculating. Mapping exits. Threat assessment already complete: unknown male, unarmed posture, controlled response time—Dangerous.

He raised one hand slowly, palm outward. Not surrender. Not defense. Something else entirely.

“Dr. Kazan,” he said evenly.

That made her hesitate.

She hadn’t introduced herself.

“You’re disoriented,” he continued, voice steady in a way that didn’t press against her panic, but didn’t yield to it either. “You were relocated under Foundation authority after noncompliance with containment acquisition protocols.”

Selene tugged against the restraints again, testing limits.

“Release me,” she said flatly.

“No.”

No hesitation. No softness. Just fact.

That should have escalated things.

Instead, something about the simplicity of it made her pause again.

The man exhaled slightly—not a sigh, not frustration. More like someone adjusting their approach mid-thought.

“I’m Dr. Arias Paradox,” he said. “Head of Psychology for Site-17. I’m not here to harm you.”

Selene’s gaze flicked over him again. His posture remained unchanged. Still controlled. Still too calm for someone who had just been punched in the face by a restrained pharmacologist waking up in an unfamiliar facility.

“You brought me here,” she said.

“I did not,” Arias corrected. “I am responsible for your stabilization after arrival.”

A beat.

Her breathing slowed by a fraction—not because she trusted him, but because her mind had started doing what it always did: reorganizing chaos into systems she could understand.

Arias noticed.

Of course he did.

“That was a defensive response,” he said quietly, almost clinically. “Expected. You’re safe to continue processing.”

Safe.

The word didn’t land as comfort. It landed as data.

Selene stopped pulling against the restraints—but didn’t relax.

Arias shifted slightly closer, not entering her space aggressively, just enough to be clearly visible without looming.

“You were sedated during transfer,” he continued. “Residual adrenaline is common upon waking. I need you to focus on one thing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what would that be?”

Arias met her gaze directly.

“Your breathing,” he said.

That should have irritated her. It should have felt patronizing.

Instead, it was delivered like instruction, not control. Like he was offering her a tool rather than taking authority.

Selene hesitated.

Arias demonstrated slowly—subtle inhale, controlled exhale. Nothing exaggerated. Nothing theatrical. Just rhythm.

She didn’t mirror him immediately.

But she did watch.

The room remained tense, Foundation staff hovering at the edge of intervention, waiting for escalation orders that didn’t come.

Arias didn’t look at them again.

He kept his focus entirely on her.

“Dr. Kazan,” he said softly, “you’re not in your lab anymore. But you are still in control of what you do next.”

A pause.

Then, quieter: “And I would prefer we start from a point where you are not injured, and I am not unconscious.”

That landed differently.

Something almost imperceptible shifted in Selene’s expression—not trust, not surrender. Recognition of tone. Precision. A mind that understood restraint in more than one sense.

Slowly, she exhaled.

Not synchronized with him. But closer than before.

Arias noticed that too.

Of course he did.

After a long moment, she spoke again, voice lower.

“If I had hit someone else,” she said, “they would have reacted faster.”

Arias tilted his head slightly. “Yes.”

“…But you didn’t.”

“No,” he agreed.

Silence stretched between them—not empty, but structured. Selene’s wrists were still restrained. The room was still unfamiliar. The Foundation still unknown.

But for the first time since she woke up, her attention wasn’t scattering outward. It was focused.

On him. Arias stepped back half a pace, signaling space rather than retreat.

“We’ll remove the restraints once you’ve stabilized,” he said. “After that, we can discuss your position here.”

Selene studied him for a long moment.

Then, finally: “You talk too calmly for someone who just got punched.”

A faint pause. Then, almost imperceptibly—

Arias’s expression softened by a fraction.

“I’ve had more complicated first impressions,” he said.

And for the first time since waking, Selene didn’t immediately try to break something.

She just watched him. Carefully.

Containment Breach Aftermath

Dr. Paradox: Ridiculous. Give me some examples.

Dr. Glass: Wasps?

Dr. Clef: Terriers?

-Selene has a habit of testing new compounds late at night, long after everyone else has left. Arias doesn’t interrupt—he simply sits in the corner of her lab, reading or working, just so she’s not alone. She never asks him to stay, but she always notices when he leaves.

-Arias memorized the exact cadence of Selene’s footsteps in the hall. He can tell if she’s exhausted, irritated, or calm just by how she walks—and he adjusts his approach before even seeing her.

-When Selene is particularly deep in thought, she mutters chemical formulas under her breath. Arias quietly repeats them back later, perfectly, just to see the flicker of surprise (and pride) in her eyes.

-Selene doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly—but she always makes an exception for Arias. He’s the only one who can rest a hand on her shoulder without her flinching.

-Arias keeps a private file—not clinical, not official—just notes about Selene. Things like “slept 3 hours,” “skipped lunch again,” or “laughed today.” He never intends to show her, but it’s his way of caring in a world where care is often clinical.

-Selene once adjusted the toxicity levels of a compound just enough so Arias could safely observe it up close during a joint project. She never told him—but he figured it out, and it stayed with him.

-Once when they were at a cafe a little kid went up to them and asked Arias if Selene was his wife. Selene immediately got embarrassed, but Arias simply chuckled quietly and said, "She will be someday."

-Arias has a very controlled demeanor around everyone else—but Selene is the only one who sees the small cracks: the sighs, the tension in his jaw, the moments he lingers too long in silence. She never calls him out directly—she just stays closer.

-When Selene is injured (even slightly), Arias becomes unnervingly attentive. Not panicked—just focused. He’ll patch her up with steady hands, his voice softer than anyone else ever hears.

-Selene sometimes leaves her gloves behind on purpose in Arias’ office, just so she has an excuse to come back later. He always notices—and never calls her out on it.

-Arias once tried to analyze why Selene affects him so deeply. He gave up halfway through the notes and just wrote: “Exception to the rule.”

-Selene trusts Arias with things she’s never written down—half-finished formulas, dangerous ideas, fragments of her past. He never interrupts, never judges—just listens like it’s the most important data he’s ever been given.

-When alarms go off or containment breaches happen, they don’t look for each other—but they always end up side by side anyway, like instinct pulls them together.

-Arias has a habit of lowering his voice when speaking to Selene, even in crowded rooms. It’s subtle, but it creates this sense that every conversation between them is private—even when it’s not.

-Selene once fell asleep at her desk. Arias didn’t wake her—he draped his coat over her shoulders and dimmed the lights. When she woke up, she immediately knew it was him without asking.

-They share an unspoken rule: if one of them says “stay,” the other does. No questions, no hesitation.

-Arias finds Selene’s ruthlessness fascinating—not frightening. He sees the precision behind it, the control, the intent—and it only deepens his admiration for her.

-Selene, in turn, finds Arias’ patience almost unsettling. The way he waits, observes, understands… it makes her feel seen in a way she’s not used to.

-On the rare occasions they argue, it’s quiet but intense—sharp words, controlled tones. But afterward, neither of them leaves. They just sit in the same room until the silence softens again.

Dr. Kazan: Babe, are you..coming to bed?

Dr. Paradox: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend.

Dr. Paradox: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*

Had this idea for a while if Arias and Selene got married