OC’s Creator: @luciavis, I’m a very neurodivergent duck, so please forgive me if I miss context clues.
This blog for the most part would be PG-13/YA (AGES 13~18-ish). Cuts, CWs and Tumblr’s Content Label System will be used aggressively if mature, 18+ or NSFW topics are tackled. You can follow this blog if you’re a minor, but keep in mind that I (the mod) am not a minor. Don’t DM trying to be my friend, you can send asks as this blog is open to all ages.
Adult behave 🫵, Minors behave 🫵.
This blog will be a formalised blog spot for Issac, art, short stories, and answers to ask will be here. Anything that my brain decides to hyperfixates on.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Rules:
No nsfw asks, I am an adult but I would rather not, this is also an PG-13 to YA blog. You can be a bit cheeky about it, but it has to be implied.
If you do slightly nsfw asks/reblogs you have to be: A) 18+ because this is a mixed age blog.
You can ship him legally with whatever character, given legal age & no legal/family relation.
Gore is fine in art, you can direct violence at the character just nothing too graphic. Don’t just randomly stab the character be more creative.
See post for rp guide.
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Legend:
Please do check the tags to see if the post is in character.
Meta-character/Non-character comments in posts from me are in [[]]. Issac isn’t aware or won’t necessarily say these things.
Text like this in green. Are in-universe text from interfaces or asks.
Red bolted text is either meant for when his blood bending abilities activate.
Italics on their own are supposed to be read as thoughts/Issac’s internal monologue.
Isaque Cross was born on July 19, 1988, in Willenhall, Coventry, England, to María Cross, a documented immigrant from the region of Sonora, Mexico. Early biographical information regarding Cross's childhood is incomplete. Further investigation into Cross's early adolescence is required.
Available legal documentation indicates that María Cross entered into a legal union with A.R.G.U.S. Inc., Creator ████████, on February 14, 1993.
Employment Record:
Isaque Cross's earliest known employment record in the anomalous world was in 2013 as a hired A.R.G.U.S. Inc1 paramilitary asset for the Global Occult Coalition. Operational documents within Cross's service to the G.O.C. designate him with the callsign "Weasel".
> Additional Files Available:
> [1] Incident Involvement Log
> [2] Medical Records
> Select a file to continue or enter [EXIT] to terminate the session.
> [2]
> Accessing Directory...
> Access Isaque Cross's Medical Records.
> Fetching Isaque Cross's Medical Records...
FILE NUMBER: [ #1897698267]
CLEARANCE LEVEL: [ Level 2 ]
LAST UPDATED: [ 01/03/2023 ]
STATUS: [ ACTIVE]
PERSONNEL INFORMATION
Blood Type: O-
Anomalous Genetic Markers: [ No ]
Thaumaturgical Affinity: [ Yes ]
PHYSICAL HEALTH STATUS
Height: [ 163 cm / 5'3 ft]
Weight: [ 65 kg / 150 lbs ]
Identifying Marks:
• Healed penetrating wound with residual structural deformities and discolouration affecting the right deltoid and pectoralis major muscles.
• Black Glyph tattoo on the left posterior forearm.
Allergies: [ None ]
Pre-existing Conditions:
Innate Thaumaturgical Sensitivity:
• Subject exhibits a fundamental ability to perceive and manipulate Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) and blood primarily haemoglobin based blood. The subject self-reports no formal training in thaumaturgy.
• Migraines, exacerbated by usage of thaumaturgical abilities. As well as the conventional triggers, such as stress, anxiety, altered sleep patterns and dietary factors.
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You hear a soft thud as you open your door into a darkened dimly lit hallway.
On the floor, just beyond the doorway, a tan-skinned man lies face down, completely still. His posture is limp in a way that suggests he didn’t so much accidentally fall, more so simply…ran out of fuel.
On the back of his head, a small spotted crab clinging to his curls, occasionally tugging at a strand of dark hair like it’s mildly annoyed by the situation. It tilts up at you, appearing to chittering in a bright, almost pleased way, completely unbothered at the fact that its owner is currently unconscious and sprawled limply across the floor.
If anything, it looks like it’s waiting for instructions, commands or…for its owner to wake up.
- @issac-cross
(The woman looked at the man that was pitifully sprawled out in front her door. her forest green eyes widen, with concern as, She’s slowly crouched down to take a pulse… after a moment of confirming that this was not corpse in front of her she looked over to the crab, nestled between his dark curls -… the crab looked harmless enough… or at least that’s what she hoped.)
OK let’s get you up and on a bed…
(the woman quietly said as she picked easily picked up the researcher, while she tried her best not to disturb the crap too much-… the researcher was surprisingly lighter than she expected, but then again she’s was used to carrying heavy things. After a moment, she placed the researcher down on her oversized bed….which was much wider and taller than the woman for some reason.)
And THIS is exactly why I tell you researchers to eat drink-…and preferably get some sleep…..so shit like this doesn’t happen…*sigh* I really hope they don’t make me fill out paperwork because of this
(the woman murdered underneath her breath her voice sounding tired and annoyed with undertones of concern)
As you haul the unconscious man onto the bed and roll him onto his back, an orange keycard slips falls out.
Issac Cross
Clearance Level: 3
Personnel Class: C
Department: Alchemy
The photograph confirms the identity. The man appears to be somewhere in his late thirties, though the sleep deprivation has added a couple of years onto this features. Dark eyebags hang beneath his eyes, and there is a fatigued quality to his face that suggests sleep and proper meals have both been neglected for far too long.
A thin silver chain rests against the hollow of his throat, glinting faintly beneath the room's light.
Perched atop his curls, the spotted crab finally abandons its vantage point. It slides down the side of his head and onto his shoulder, tiny legs padding softly against fabric. Reaching the chain, it pauses.
The creature twists its eyestalks towards Aurora.
Then towards the unconscious man.
A mischievous chortle escapes it. One pincher slowly rises. And with all the audacity of a tiny creature that has done this before, it snaps shut on the soft flesh of Issac's neck.
The man inhales sharply, and mumbles “Christ Sebs, give it a rest.” before rolling away onto his side from the crab.
(The woman picked up the ID slip looking over it before putting it in her jacket pocket for the time being. when she looks back up to see the mischievous crab messing with Isaac, she couldn’t help but quietly chuckled to herself. After a moment she crouches down to get closer look at the mischievous little crab.)
Well Hello there aren’t you just a cutie? 
(the agent voice was quiet and sweet-… aurora had a soft spot for small animals like crabs, rats, and centipedes. Probably the reason why the peculiarity of the situation didn’t even cross her mind.)
Know Let’s try and let Dr. Isaac sleep a little bit. I’m sure we can find something to do In the meantime…. you like books?
(With a soft inviting smile on her face She extended the, palmed of her hand to the tiny crab-… as if it was an offer to hop on. She didn’t know why she was talking to the crab, as if it could understand her…It was just an animal after all, but then again she didn’t quite know she like talked to her to pet rats all the time, and that you seem to understand her.)
[the room itself, was dimly lit by soft purple fairy light strong across the ceiling that almost resembled little stars. The walls of the room were mostly covered in bookshelves except for a drawer here and there and a small area behind her desk with a two steer high cage with a variety of brightly colored things hanging across the inside of it. When looking back at the book shows each one was filled to the brim with books that felt ancient… there is a variety of genres to them too-.. from anything to old folk tales, to botany, and even some about Cryptozoology.]
The crab chitters a bit, before its eyestalks tilt down to Aurora’s hand then up to her face. It stares there for a long moment, as though its single overworked braincell is attempting to process a thought.
A pincher opens, and snap towards Aurora’s ha-
A hand shoots out and encloses around the crab’s shell, “Sebastian…” Issac mumbles tiredly, “…what did we say about attacking staff?” Issac’s eyelids remain closed.
The crab chitters petulantly as it clamps a pincher around Issac’s fingers in protest. Issac doesn’t react.
With a tired sigh, Issac rolls over onto his side turning away from Aurora. One arm tucks underneath his neck at the base of head and the other keeps a loose hold on the offending crustacean.
The very moment Issac rolls onto his side, the crab wriggles free from his fingers and crawls up onto the side of his arm.
The crab pauses. Its eye-stalks twists to Aurora then to the sliver chain pressed across Issac’s neck.
Back to Aurora again.
A beat of stillness.
The crab then scuttles down Issac’s shoulder and clamps two pinchers around the sliver chain
Before giving it a tug.
Issac’s hand moves immediately, closing over the chain before his eyes even open.
“No.”
Sebastian tugs harder.
“For Chrissake Sebastian…” Issac’s grip tightens, his hand does not yield.
The crab chitters sharply in annoyance, then after a long moment of contemplation it flattens like a crab pancake next to the sliver chain with both pinchers hooked around it.
The crustacean lets out a contented clicking sound.
After a moment, Issac’s body looses as if the stress, fatigue and worry almost washes away from him. He’s breathing still tinged with exhaustion gradually settles into a steadier rhythm.
(The agent let out a deep chuckle, sing the pitiful sight of this researcher in front of her and this adorable mischievous crap that refused to let him sleep peacefully. It was amusing to watch but after a moment she went back to her desk. Sitting down and picking up a nearby book the title of it being “ history of grimoires and ruins for dummies” it was the newest book in her collection, and she was eager to read it, especially since she hadn’t had much knowledge of the subject in the first place.)
So you’re awake enough to stop a crab, but not awake enough to wonder where you’re at?
(she softly, joke to herself as she flipped through the pages of her book, not expecting the researcher on her bed to hear her)
“Hm…?” Issac mumbles, “-I’m awake enough for the important things.”
Issac turns onto his back.
Sebastian immediately crawls up the side of his shoulder and slips beneath the collar of Issac’s shirt.
After a brief struggle a faint metallic clink follows. The crab settles, a small satisfied chitter emits from Sebastian as the crab-shaped lump flattens.
“You took my ID card earlier,” he muttered, his eyes still closed. “You’ve been…” Issac pauses mid-sentence as if attention shifting as if filtering out something, “…sitting there for a while now.”
"Issac, you've got something on your coat." A researcher pointed out.
"Hm?" Issac reached behind himself. His fingers found the edge of a sticker.
Issac sighed, "Not again."
With a sharp tug, he peeled away a corner of yellow from the rectangular four-striped sticker stuck to the centre of his back. The paper tore, a second attempt only succeeded in removing a black corner.
"You know," the researcher said, "those colours suit you."
Issac slipped off his lab coat and held it up to inspect the damage.
A yellow, white, purple, and black striped rectangle remained stubbornly attached to the fabric. Next to it was a faded discolouration where another A5 sticker had once been removed, leaving behind frayed threads and stubborn adhesive.
"Excellent." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I only just managed to remove the pansexual one."
His thumb caught on another corner. "And now I have to get this thing-"
The sentence died halfway through, as he spotted someone out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh. Dr Breen." Issac lowered the coat, "Been meaning to give this to you."
Without further explanation, he reached into his pocket and produced a small circular plastic badge in pink, yellow, and blue. He tossed it across the hallway towards you.
"Since it's Pride Month,” Issac nodded towards the badge, "I was told that you'd appreciate it."
His attention immediately returned to the sticker, giving it another irritated tug.
[🎉+1x Pansexual Badge has been added to your inventory.🎉]
- @issac-cross
Elias smiled brightly, immediately pinning it to his shirt.
“Hold up I think-” Issac tears a section of the 4-striped rectangle off, “Yes, that would be very nice.”
He hands his lab coat to Dr. Breen.
The garment itself is a standard-issue Foundation lab coat, its surface seemed to have stained splotches of various colours and as well as next to the 4-striped flag, a faded discolouration sits this appears to be where the A5 pansexual flag sticker once was.
There also appears to be an insignia of the Alchemy Department has been embroidered across the back in neat stitching. Decorating the lower right tail of the coat are three concentric arches of flowers, alternating between red roses and small yellow blossoms. The design appears to have been drawn on by hand rather than professionally applied.
Clipped to the breast pocket by a retractable asexual ID reel hangs an orange Foundation keycard bearing Issac's credentials.
“I keep on just finding-” Issac’s eyes glanced towards the flag, “-I assume another Pride flag manifesting around my desk somewhere.”
“Hmm yes…most of the stains are from various lab chemicals,” Issac’s gaze trails down to the flowers, “-The flowers are from Meri-”,
The name slips out before he corrects himself,
“-166, I left my lab coat in her containment cell a couple of months back.”
As you work at the sticker attached to the lab coat, the fabric feels noticeably tougher than it should.
Despite the various stains and obvious wear, the fabric shows surprisingly little damage. No burn holes or frayed acid patches, where chemicals should’ve eaten through.
The coat itself appears to be standard Foundation issue, except for the band of yellow stitching sown neatly along the collar. This stitching doesn’t look decorative more-so institutional, although it had been added during the manufacturing process than by the researcher standing beside you.
“Ah…regeneration issues I suppose?” Issac’s eyes darted to the amulet fused to Elias’ chest before back to the lab coat. “…The immortal in my universe has the same issue.”
Issac pauses studying Elias’ expression for a moment, “You wear the same sorrowful expression they have after a host transfer.”
Hey hey…just a heads up to the 26 followers of this blog. Nothing in this blog is sacred lore that must not be touched.
If you’re interacting with Issac through posts/reblogs/RP threads feel free to poke at random suspicious long descriptions of items with suspiciously detailed descriptions. Ask questions, investigate, make observations, take this shit out of Issac. Step on my toes as a writer.
If the object is there and I’ve highlighted it multiple times poke on it. I’m basically acting as a soft DM for this blog.
The fun from the SCP wiki comes from the collaborative and remixing other people’s works aspect. The SCP wiki exists in the first place because we adapt, remix, expand, build and contradict each other’s ideas.
The only thing that I wouldn’t say step on my toes with is actual stories tagged with “#Short Stories” or “#OC writing.”
The crab originally started out as something not to be taken seriously…and um…Issac has a pet crab now.
Think of the more famous author avatars like the MCU adapting Marvel characters sure it’s still recognisably Clef, Shaw/Bright, Rights but filtered through the history and world building that I am actively building as time goes on.
Heck even grab and adapt/remix some of the ideas from this blog. I believe no idea is truly original.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You hear a soft thud as you open your door into a darkened dimly lit hallway.
On the floor, just beyond the doorway, a tan-skinned man lies face down, completely still. His posture is limp in a way that suggests he didn’t so much accidentally fall, more so simply…ran out of fuel.
On the back of his head, a small spotted crab clinging to his curls, occasionally tugging at a strand of dark hair like it’s mildly annoyed by the situation. It tilts up at you, appearing to chittering in a bright, almost pleased way, completely unbothered at the fact that its owner is currently unconscious and sprawled limply across the floor.
If anything, it looks like it’s waiting for instructions, commands or…for its owner to wake up.
- @issac-cross
(The woman looked at the man that was pitifully sprawled out in front her door. her forest green eyes widen, with concern as, She’s slowly crouched down to take a pulse… after a moment of confirming that this was not corpse in front of her she looked over to the crab, nestled between his dark curls -… the crab looked harmless enough… or at least that’s what she hoped.)
OK let’s get you up and on a bed…
(the woman quietly said as she picked easily picked up the researcher, while she tried her best not to disturb the crap too much-… the researcher was surprisingly lighter than she expected, but then again she’s was used to carrying heavy things. After a moment, she placed the researcher down on her oversized bed….which was much wider and taller than the woman for some reason.)
And THIS is exactly why I tell you researchers to eat drink-…and preferably get some sleep…..so shit like this doesn’t happen…*sigh* I really hope they don’t make me fill out paperwork because of this
(the woman murdered underneath her breath her voice sounding tired and annoyed with undertones of concern)
As you haul the unconscious man onto the bed and roll him onto his back, an orange keycard slips falls out.
Issac Cross
Clearance Level: 3
Personnel Class: C
Department: Alchemy
The photograph confirms the identity. The man appears to be somewhere in his late thirties, though the sleep deprivation has added a couple of years onto this features. Dark eyebags hang beneath his eyes, and there is a fatigued quality to his face that suggests sleep and proper meals have both been neglected for far too long.
A thin silver chain rests against the hollow of his throat, glinting faintly beneath the room's light.
Perched atop his curls, the spotted crab finally abandons its vantage point. It slides down the side of his head and onto his shoulder, tiny legs padding softly against fabric. Reaching the chain, it pauses.
The creature twists its eyestalks towards Aurora.
Then towards the unconscious man.
A mischievous chortle escapes it. One pincher slowly rises. And with all the audacity of a tiny creature that has done this before, it snaps shut on the soft flesh of Issac's neck.
The man inhales sharply, and mumbles “Christ Sebs, give it a rest.” before rolling away onto his side from the crab.
(The woman picked up the ID slip looking over it before putting it in her jacket pocket for the time being. when she looks back up to see the mischievous crab messing with Isaac, she couldn’t help but quietly chuckled to herself. After a moment she crouches down to get closer look at the mischievous little crab.)
Well Hello there aren’t you just a cutie? 
(the agent voice was quiet and sweet-… aurora had a soft spot for small animals like crabs, rats, and centipedes. Probably the reason why the peculiarity of the situation didn’t even cross her mind.)
Know Let’s try and let Dr. Isaac sleep a little bit. I’m sure we can find something to do In the meantime…. you like books?
(With a soft inviting smile on her face She extended the, palmed of her hand to the tiny crab-… as if it was an offer to hop on. She didn’t know why she was talking to the crab, as if it could understand her…It was just an animal after all, but then again she didn’t quite know she like talked to her to pet rats all the time, and that you seem to understand her.)
[the room itself, was dimly lit by soft purple fairy light strong across the ceiling that almost resembled little stars. The walls of the room were mostly covered in bookshelves except for a drawer here and there and a small area behind her desk with a two steer high cage with a variety of brightly colored things hanging across the inside of it. When looking back at the book shows each one was filled to the brim with books that felt ancient… there is a variety of genres to them too-.. from anything to old folk tales, to botany, and even some about Cryptozoology.]
The crab chitters a bit, before its eyestalks tilt down to Aurora’s hand then up to her face. It stares there for a long moment, as though its single overworked braincell is attempting to process a thought.
A pincher opens, and snap towards Aurora’s ha-
A hand shoots out and encloses around the crab’s shell, “Sebastian…” Issac mumbles tiredly, “…what did we say about attacking staff?” Issac’s eyelids remain closed.
The crab chitters petulantly as it clamps a pincher around Issac’s fingers in protest. Issac doesn’t react.
With a tired sigh, Issac rolls over onto his side turning away from Aurora. One arm tucks underneath his neck at the base of head and the other keeps a loose hold on the offending crustacean.
The very moment Issac rolls onto his side, the crab wriggles free from his fingers and crawls up onto the side of his arm.
The crab pauses. Its eye-stalks twists to Aurora then to the sliver chain pressed across Issac’s neck.
Back to Aurora again.
A beat of stillness.
The crab then scuttles down Issac’s shoulder and clamps two pinchers around the sliver chain
Before giving it a tug.
Issac’s hand moves immediately, closing over the chain before his eyes even open.
“No.”
Sebastian tugs harder.
“For Chrissake Sebastian…” Issac’s grip tightens, his hand does not yield.
The crab chitters sharply in annoyance, then after a long moment of contemplation it flattens like a crab pancake next to the sliver chain with both pinchers hooked around it.
The crustacean lets out a contented clicking sound.
After a moment, Issac’s body looses as if the stress, fatigue and worry almost washes away from him. He’s breathing still tinged with exhaustion gradually settles into a steadier rhythm.
Enjoy these low effort, kinda shitty drawings. Kinda drew Issac’s face weirdly in the uncoloured drawing.
This is the good ending of Issac’s future where he retires to a ranch or something with his beloved wife/partner/husband thing and his pet crab and raises 3 children.
Been trying to vary my different body types and trying to draw chubbier/chunker people. Been told that the coloured drawing of 53 Issac is very ah…male gazey not sure if this is a good or bad thing. Oh well enjoy.
Also cannot draw babies…how do people draw babies? His skin tone is also kinda scuffed with the alcohol markers…I don’t have the correct shade for his skin.
I’d like to imagine he’s gained a couple more pounds and is a lot more happier and comfortable in his own skin at this age.
The child’s friend: “Your dad's fifty-three?! He looks like he's in his early forties.”
“Wait until he picks up that fallen-” the child replied.
Issac bends over to pick up a pen from the floor. As he stood, both knees produced a series of sharp cracks that vaguely sounded like firecrackers, echoed through the room.
CRACK. POP. POP.
“Hmm.” He twisted his back. A loud KRRRK followed. “Right. Need to call my orthopedist.”
The friend's smile faltered. “Is that normal?”
“According to Dad,” said the child, “no.”
“According to my orthopaedist,” Issac added, “also no.”
"Issac, you've got something on your coat." A researcher pointed out.
"Hm?" Issac reached behind himself. His fingers found the edge of a sticker.
Issac sighed, "Not again."
With a sharp tug, he peeled away a corner of yellow from the rectangular four-striped sticker stuck to the centre of his back. The paper tore, a second attempt only succeeded in removing a black corner.
"You know," the researcher said, "those colours suit you."
Issac slipped off his lab coat and held it up to inspect the damage.
A yellow, white, purple, and black striped rectangle remained stubbornly attached to the fabric. Next to it was a faded discolouration where another A5 sticker had once been removed, leaving behind frayed threads and stubborn adhesive.
"Excellent." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I only just managed to remove the pansexual one."
His thumb caught on another corner. "And now I have to get this thing-"
The sentence died halfway through, as he spotted someone out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh. Dr Breen." Issac lowered the coat, "Been meaning to give this to you."
Without further explanation, he reached into his pocket and produced a small circular plastic badge in pink, yellow, and blue. He tossed it across the hallway towards you.
"Since it's Pride Month,” Issac nodded towards the badge, "I was told that you'd appreciate it."
His attention immediately returned to the sticker, giving it another irritated tug.
[🎉+1x Pansexual Badge has been added to your inventory.🎉]
- @issac-cross
Elias smiled brightly, immediately pinning it to his shirt.
“Hold up I think-” Issac tears a section of the 4-striped rectangle off, “Yes, that would be very nice.”
He hands his lab coat to Dr. Breen.
The garment itself is a standard-issue Foundation lab coat, its surface seemed to have stained splotches of various colours and as well as next to the 4-striped flag, a faded discolouration sits this appears to be where the A5 pansexual flag sticker once was.
There also appears to be an insignia of the Alchemy Department has been embroidered across the back in neat stitching. Decorating the lower right tail of the coat are three concentric arches of flowers, alternating between red roses and small yellow blossoms. The design appears to have been drawn on by hand rather than professionally applied.
Clipped to the breast pocket by a retractable asexual ID reel hangs an orange Foundation keycard bearing Issac's credentials.
“I keep on just finding-” Issac’s eyes glanced towards the flag, “-I assume another Pride flag manifesting around my desk somewhere.”
Since it’s Pride month I thought I might as well drop some author head canons…ideas I don’t know Issac’s technically my son, my OC, he’s also technically in the Creative Commons so technically anyone’s able to adapt/remix this character however they want. Keep in mind everything I say is up to reader interpretation and you’re more than welcome to interpret the following fun facts however you want.
Sexuality/Orientation:
For sexuality, Issac’s is Asexual. On the ace-spectrum he ranges from anywhere from sex-averse to sex-indifferent, he’s specifically not supposed to be sex-repulsed.
If you asked him:
“Issac do you have any special someone…” elbow nudge, “…that you’ve got your eyes on?”
He’ll most likely respond with just straight up a flat: “No.”
If then further pushed and asked:
“If not women then, men? You strike me as the type of guy who likes both.”
He’ll answer: “Yes and no. They're all the same to me.” Interpret this however you choose to.
Gender:
If he overheard some male/non-binary staff member saying: “You know I never thought I fit into the binaries of male/female…I wouldn’t really mind if I was born a woman.”
Issac would just shrug and go: “I really wouldn’t really care if I was born a woman at birth either.” Clicks pen, “The documentation would be annoying to change, suppose my risk of prostate cancer would be lowered.”
If he also got hit by SCP-113, he would care about the fact that he’s now a woman, he’ll care more about the fact that the process in which SCP-113 transitions you hurts.
In short, he’s not too attached to his own masculinity. Dude is extremely uncomfortable in feminine clothing due to the influence of his very traditional Anglican Grandmother in his childhood.
If you want specific labels for him…from the author’s head. He’s some form of ace pan-romantic and some flavour of nonbinary, not going to tell you what…¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You hear a soft thud as you open your door into a darkened dimly lit hallway.
On the floor, just beyond the doorway, a tan-skinned man lies face down, completely still. His posture is limp in a way that suggests he didn’t so much accidentally fall, more so simply…ran out of fuel.
On the back of his head, a small spotted crab clinging to his curls, occasionally tugging at a strand of dark hair like it’s mildly annoyed by the situation. It tilts up at you, appearing to chittering in a bright, almost pleased way, completely unbothered at the fact that its owner is currently unconscious and sprawled limply across the floor.
If anything, it looks like it’s waiting for instructions, commands or…for its owner to wake up.
- @issac-cross
(The woman looked at the man that was pitifully sprawled out in front her door. her forest green eyes widen, with concern as, She’s slowly crouched down to take a pulse… after a moment of confirming that this was not corpse in front of her she looked over to the crab, nestled between his dark curls -… the crab looked harmless enough… or at least that’s what she hoped.)
OK let’s get you up and on a bed…
(the woman quietly said as she picked easily picked up the researcher, while she tried her best not to disturb the crap too much-… the researcher was surprisingly lighter than she expected, but then again she’s was used to carrying heavy things. After a moment, she placed the researcher down on her oversized bed….which was much wider and taller than the woman for some reason.)
And THIS is exactly why I tell you researchers to eat drink-…and preferably get some sleep…..so shit like this doesn’t happen…*sigh* I really hope they don’t make me fill out paperwork because of this
(the woman murdered underneath her breath her voice sounding tired and annoyed with undertones of concern)
As you haul the unconscious man onto the bed and roll him onto his back, an orange keycard slips falls out.
Issac Cross
Clearance Level: 3
Personnel Class: C
Department: Alchemy
The photograph confirms the identity. The man appears to be somewhere in his late thirties, though the sleep deprivation has added a couple of years onto this features. Dark eyebags hang beneath his eyes, and there is a fatigued quality to his face that suggests sleep and proper meals have both been neglected for far too long.
A thin silver chain rests against the hollow of his throat, glinting faintly beneath the room's light.
Perched atop his curls, the spotted crab finally abandons its vantage point. It slides down the side of his head and onto his shoulder, tiny legs padding softly against fabric. Reaching the chain, it pauses.
The creature twists its eyestalks towards Aurora.
Then towards the unconscious man.
A mischievous chortle escapes it. One pincher slowly rises. And with all the audacity of a tiny creature that has done this before, it snaps shut on the soft flesh of Issac's neck.
The man inhales sharply, and mumbles “Christ Sebs, give it a rest.” before rolling away onto his side from the crab.
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I sleep like the dead, nonetheless, I am lucid
If dreams have a meaning, perhaps I should tune in
To the signal that beckons, familiar, it seems
Be silent, you might see yourself in its beams
A knife or a noose is with what you'll be met
If you try to play nice and stick out your neck
I thrive in the shadows, untrusting of light
Be warned if you join me, it's just for a bite
“Is someone trying to cast a hex on me?” Issac walks out of his partitioned section in the lab, “Hmm right, apparently it’s song to some horror game.”
The cold, mechanical click of Clef’s SRA echoes through the patient room as he and Issac sits in examination table with their heads bowed in downcast disgrace.
In front of them stands O5-4, seems to pacing slowing pacing around the patient medical room with a hand rubbing the side of his temple.
Issac seems to sit slightly twisted, with one arm supporting himself against a wall and an ice-pack pressed to his ribs. Clef beside him sits with a bloodied broken nose and a bruise blossoming through his left eye.
The overseer exhaled.
“Doctor Alto Clef you out of ALL people should know not assault-” the O5’s eyes flicked to Issac’s face, “-junior research staff..”
“I’m 37…” Issac mumbled as he let out a muffled sad snuffle.
O5-4 stopped pacing.
And his eyes narrowed into Issac’s face with an expression of pure unfiltered skepticism. “…You know what I don’t have enough energy for that.”
“He hit me first,” Clef said immediately.
“You called me FEOTUS face.” Issac shot back.
Clef hummed thoughtfully, “That’s because you’re built like a feotus man. Short. Ergonomical. Very…intern shaped. ”
“We’re the same height.”
“Technically” Clef added, “I’m 5’4.”
Issac shot Clef a dirty, contemptuous glare as his hand tightened over the ice pack.
A shit-eating grin slowly crept across Clef’s face. “Oh now, come on is that how you treat your fath-”
Issac went very still.
Then.
His hand rocketed towards Clef’s collar like a rage-filled viper.
“NO.” O5-4 snapped.
A bedpan clattered to the floor. Everyone stopped.
Issac froze hand still clutching the fabric of Clef’s collar. Clef didn’t look alarmed, just slightly impressed at the fact he could provoke Issac this much.
“If I hear one MORE word about an incident regarding you two.” O5-4 breathed, “I’ll transfer you two to the opposite sides of the world. You got that?”
Been thinking of how I want to interpret the SCP canon…well at least Issac’s blog’s canon. I’m not publishing this on his blog because this is just yapping. I’ll still reblog I don’t know how many people on Issac’s blog would take interest in the way his author/mod thinks.
But in the process of thinking of an 963 re-write. I’ve been thinking about how certain power dynamics operate within the internal bureaucratic structure of the SCP Foundation. In some canons on the Wiki, some of the bigger author avatars do become O5s in some canons. But….
Not in my (therefore Issac’s canon). So most fans headcanon Clef to either be born with his anomalous ability or is semi-anomalous during birth. Bright/Shaw to be “modified into” becoming anomalous. Now let’s just choose to ignore the…ah more troublesome, more Mary Sue…aspects of these characters and how they’ve become a little bit more “chaotic” over 18+ years of fan interpretation. Yes I am aware of the whole AdminBright controversy, and honestly fuck him. But that’s not the topic of this post. There also was some issues to do with that list thingy, I don’t know I don’t have 100% knowledge of the SCP Wiki, please educate me if I’m being insensitive/ignorant.
You’re also welcome to re-interpret/remix this however you want.
But at least in my re-interpretations of the Wiki. The SCP Foundation/O5s have some biases…to elaborate further on this the O5s are kinda hypocrites due to the fact they modify their own bodies with anomalies. Within the modern day of my interpretation of the Wiki’s lore. Baseline humans have biological discrimination towards anomalous individuals who are born with their traits.
For example, in some canons the author avatars do become O5s. But not in my canon, since the O5s as ancient as they are have this very deeply embedded biological discrimination bias towards anomalous individuals. Since the Foundation’s goal is: “We die in the dark so you can live in the light.” And “We protect humanity.” They view “Humanity” as non-anomalous baseline human individuals. And tend to do a bit of othering when it comes to anomalous individuals born with their abilities like Clef.
Dr. Alto Clef:
In this canon, Clef wears a Scranton Reality Anchor Collar it doesn’t harm him it just gives poor circulation or something. I don’t know I’m not a doctor. But he gets more eyes on him because he was born a Type-Green and fathered 166.
Dr Shaw:
Born baseline human, later got big oofed in most 963 re-writes. Stemming from the original lore of character “Bright”, he has connections to the O5 council with his brother and Father being an O5 this allows him to have more freedom because of said connections and the fact he was born baseline human.
But dude also has siblings and is currently an anomalous being, so he sits in the intersectionality of: “I have privilege due to my connections but people still treat me worse because I’m anomalous or have family members that are anomalous.”
Issac:
If anyone’s interested because apparently OC content doesn’t do as well as the characters content on this platform…😔
But because he was born with his own abilities he probably does experience that bias that Clef experiences but not to the extent Clef experiences. Because magic can be learnt.
Gonna just gently place my son here…treat him well: @issac-cross
Ethic Committee:
I don’t know there was probably some civil rights movement or something for the sapient humanoid anomalies in containment. I’d like to think this is why Dr. Clef and Dr Shaw are department heads in the first place in this canon. Because the committee to the O5s were like: “Nah stop doing that shit you gotta treat these people better.”
Dr. Shaw was probably involved in this movement…maybe…am I cooking something Tumblr? The small number of people that follow me my son for some reason…
“Morning.” Issac ducked his head into Agatha’s office, “I’ll be heading to the supply store to grab some-”
Dr Rights stared at him. Not normal eye contact, not a normal glance.
A knotted, incredulous almost…terrified stare.
“Is there something on my face?-” Issac slowly lifted a hand towards his face.
Dr. Rights slowly took a couple towards him with a hand slightly raised.
Issac immediately inched himself away from Rights. “No. Absolutely not. You know how I feel about people touching my face.”
“Forcing a face mask onto you was the worse idea I’ve ever had.”
“Wot.” Issac blinked, “What do you mean worst-”
Brilliant morning light poured through the window and slammed Issac straight on his face.
Issac stood there, his unblemished dew-kissed face catching the amber-hued sunlight with the aggressively airbrushed intensity of an overly photoshopped skincare billboard ad.
“How,” Dr Rights demanded, “HOW do you look 25?!”
Issac stared at her with this blank nearly melancholic expression, before letting out a heavy exasperated sigh. “…Fantastic. Security’s going to mistake me for an intern again.”
From somewhere behind Issac, came the sound of approaching heavy hard-heeled footsteps.
Clef rounded the corner, and glanced at Issac, then stopped.
Looked Issac up and down once.
Twice.
“Jesus Christ,” Clef barked out a laughter, “███ass foetus face.”
Issac buried his face into his hands, and let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Agatha…” he mumbled, “this is the last time I will ever let you put any skincare products on me.”
“Hey! Your skin has never look this refreshed.”
“That’s my problem. I don’t need to look younger.”
Clef’s grin sharpened, “Ohhh, so that’s why you got drunk and started calling me a father fig-”
Issac head snapped up towards Clef. The glare he shot Clef carried a look of unadulterated, intense vitriolic hostility.
Clef threw both hands up in defeat. “Alright. Alright, son message received.”
“I swear to god-” Issac pivoted so sharply that you can practically hear the echo of his heel squeaking down the hallway.
Probably would lean more towards body horror, would be semi-inspired by Zofi’s Breen blog. Thinking of making this Shaw this very empathetic, Mister Roger’s crossed with Deadpool levels of regeneration.
I’m going to very obviously try and avoid the possession kink of AdminBright. And very obviously any other icky things…
Let me know if there’s anything in the comments regarding the AdminBright’s controversy that I should very obviously avoid. SCP community let me know.
Been a bit inactive of lately due to personal life stuff. I’m still here, Issac’s inbox is still open. I’ll get around to answering the asks…just be patient.
Uh I don’t know like this post or something if you want to see my take on a Bright a re-write, if you don’t like the character or the Admin, honestly f#ck him, please educate me on your perspective on this Admin/controversy in a respectful, non-vitriolic way, don’t harass me for attempting to re-write a character that in some areas of this fandom that people still like.
Don’t cancel other “Bright Re-write blogs” for re-interpreting a character that has evolved due to community efforts. This whole community is about remixing and supporting each other’s works. If you don’t have anything constructive than don’t say it.
Mod Lucia signing out. Don’t be an asshole my dudes.
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“Hey…do you know where people keep on getting these acupuncture needles?”
Issac held up his right arm slightly, sleeve rolled down.
A scatter of faint, slivers scars catches the light as his turned his wrist.
Along the back ridge of his ridge of his forearm, lie a line of acupuncture needles that seem to trail from the top of his wrist where an old rope friction burn scar lies down to the base of his elbow.
His arm looked less like a limb and more like a porcupine’s back.
Issac sighed, as he absentmindedly pinched one of the needles free with two fingers.
“That’s the last time I take a nap in the break room,” he muttered.
Issac flicked a needle into a disposal bin, before a crab scuttled out of the bin and scampered off with the acupuncture needles.
- @issac-cross
"Are you sure it's not the crab?"
She asked before running after the crab and taking the needle
Issac pulls another needle out of his arm and tossed it into the disposal bin, with a quick flick of his wrist. “1206█’s not that intelligent,” he muttered, shooting the crab a glare, “it just has a habit of stealing things it shouldn’t.”
Tue crab gives a smug little chortle before clicking its pinchers towards Angie’s bracelets, reaching towards them like a toddler does towards jingling keys.
Issac removes another needle out of his right arm, “Sometimes, I let the juniors researchers run demonstrations on my arms,” he said absently, “temperature tests, vein mapping.” Another soft plink hits the bin, “on a good day bloodwork.”
His eyes drifted to the faded blue pen doodles marks staining the corner of his elbows alongside old faded yellowing puncture bruises.
“Issac pulled another needle from his forearm. “Not the first time I’ve been prodded.” Another soft plink sounded from the disposal bin.
“Mm. Suppose I haven’t been getting enough sun…” He glanced towards Angie, then paused. His head tilted slightly, expression unfocusing for half a second as his eyes lingered on Angie for a moment, though as if listening to something distant. “…You don’t feel anaemic. Is 0929 causing you problems?”
The crab chittered softly as A stroked its shell.
“If it’s psychological,” Issac added absently, pulling another needle free, “1206█ usually helps.”
