Moenennbys' mind-bin


rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX-A is to be contained in a small metal safe no more than two meters from SCP-XXXX-B’s containment chamber. SCP-XXXX-B is to be kept in a small jewelry box fitted with noise detectors. For the duration of any future Petrushka events, a remote-operated drone is to locate SCP-XXXX-B and record the piece played and any effects observed. Personnel assigned to SCP-XXXX-A are to report any occurrences of 'Rite of Spring' as soon as possible, and engage in interview with SCP-XXXX-A immediately.

Due to the destruction of Site-██ and the loss of SCP-████, and SCP-████, SCP-XXXX is to be contained in a specialized site located in a remote area. Following the loss of certain documents pertaining to SCP-XXXX, records and research files are to be filed physically, rather than electronically.

During an interview with SCP-XXXX-A, any topics regarding her legs, family, death, and her school are never to be discussed, to prevent any decay of SCP-XXXX-A's currently healthy psyche.

Description: SCP-XXXX-A is a small, handmade, ballerina doll. It is made entirely out of modeling clay, with a coat of faded acrylic paint. A cavity is visible in the chest, painted crimson red on the interior. SCP-XXXX-B is a small clay heart with visible degradation of the surface. A brass bead is affixed to the superior vena cava. This bead has been known to unhinge during a Petrushka event.

During a Petrushka event, SCP-XXXX-B will begin to project a piece of classical music from the brass bead. Upon the start of the music, SCP-XXXX-A will animate, and perform a dance, which will vary between pieces of music produced. This dance has been observed to distort surrounding space in order for SCP-XXXX-A to optimize a route to SCP-XXXX-B, with additional effects present based on the music played (See Incident Report). SCP-XXXX-A has yet to successfully make contact with SCP-XXXX-B in Foundation custody, with the music ceasing immediately before SCP-XXXX-A makes contact. SCP-XXXX-A will then reappear back at its previous location.

There have been four occurrences of the piece 'Rite of Spring' during a Petrushka event in Foundation custody to date. During an occurrence of the piece SCP-XXXX-A will become sentient and sapient. SCP-XXXX-A seems to regard these events as "waking up from a dream" and has shown memory of previous conversations. SCP-XXXX-A recalls at least six performances of the Rite of Spring prior to its acquisition by the Foundation, though it refuses to provide any details regarding said performances. SCP-XXXX-A currently holds a delusion that its legs are amputated, and refuses to divulge any further information regarding the circumstances behind the amputation.

SCP-XXXX-A has given few details about its past, with the only relevant material pertaining to the attendance of the Satriyomnyomf Conservatory, a defunct arts academy outside of Chelyabinsk, Russia. (See Interview XXXX-A-3). Any attempts to discover more concerning this organization have been unsuccessful. SCP-XXXX-A has also provided a few details about its father, claiming that he was a highly skilled codebreaker during World War II.



Addendum-3: SCP-XXXX was recovered in the center of a large crater near Chelyobinsk, Siberia in 1954 by personnel investigating reports of a large explosion coming from just outside the town. Along with SCP-XXXX, a metal safe containing several letters was found. Handwriting matches ████ █████, a resident of Smolensk, Russia who was found deceased via suicide by gunshot in 1953.

To my little firebird
Your mama is so happy for you
We are proud of you, happy of your acceptance into the school.
We still have to find that payment for it, but we will find it.
We want to make sure you are happy
also, uncle Suko says hello from the America
Love, papa

To my little firebird
we have managed to get the money from a neighbor down the street.
He said that he would be very gracious to help a little girl dance to the stars.
God bless that man.
How are you at the school? Please write back, we long to hear from you..
love, Papa

To my brave firebird
I got your letter, that mister posgolniev sounds like a rude man!
He doesn't have a right to criticize you dancing, you got into the school did you not?
Your mama has been very strange lately, she has been going out very late.
Hopefully we can get some money to visit next month
love, Papa

To my little firebird
Mama went out yesterday and never came back.
me and your little karniov are very worried about her.
but she will be fine.
Mr. Sakolnich from row three said she went out to petersburg visiting family.
love, papa

To my poor little firebird
Oh God bless your soul, Nadia!
I recieved a letter about an accident at the school and..
Your legs! Why have they been taken from you? Why have they taken your legs?!
How I love you my child. I wish that you are well
may god's grace be gifted to my sweet
love, papa

The following note was found attached to SCP-XXXX-A's leg

To my strong little firebird
To keep you strong i give you my heart
So that oneday, my little malaya may dance again
love, papa

Successful SCPs:

SCP-2743 +25, 32:7
SCP-2304 +18, 23:5

The Academy drafts and template hub

Notes and To-Do:

Put "Good Jorb" in my author page

Use snippet for SCP:

It's looking into the void at the end.
Seeing no raisins to eat
it stares into the darkness
all it sees is betrayal
So Hamsters just do this… /Thing/
"I tried to nom but you betrayed me"
"I will not forget."
Where they space out like that and don't respond to stimuli for a minute or two

Collab with luckgandor


The cabin rustled along the tracks, awash with the sounds of light conversation, full of children awaiting their arrival at the Academy. She stared out the window, into the barren fields of snow and brush, watching the snowflakes dance across the sky. The loud, rickety train had taken her far from home, and she missed her family greatly.

"Is- Is it your first time on a train?" she heard.

She had forgotten about Reoite, having spent much of her time pondering about the school, and what it'd be like. He was her neighbor back in Smolensk, and they had both been accepted into the Academy together.

"I went um… Uh… yeah, it is. I used to be scared of them as a little girl, their faces looked like a giant metal demon. Papa never took us on many trips, he was always trying to find work," she turned her head back to the window, staring once more out at the empty, looming fields.

Some few moments passed before she heard his voice again.

"It's my first time out of Smolensk… I hadn't any money to go elsewhere," he blurted.

She turned back at him. She never really had many friends at the school; dancing made her happier than any of her classmates could. She looked at him and saw a figure unfamiliar to her, foreign. He was tall, and had a lean, athletic figure. His black hair stuck up in tight curls atop his head, and his deep blue eyes contrasted the black and white of his face. He looked cold and distant to her, and she felt for his heavy heart.

"You never visited Ireland with your parents?"

"My mother and father came to Neva from Ireland just before I was born. When they were on a ferry heading to Smolensk, there was an explosion in the boiler room, and the boat sank. My father drowned, but my mother was saved by a nearby boat. Then and there she gave birth to me, and then she died. I was alone," he continued.

"Oh god… I'm sorry Reoide…" She said it almost impulsively, without thinking, and she instantly regretted it, having made a facetious appearance.

"The Frozen Child is what they called me." She saw a single tear well up in his eye, but in an instant he collected himself, returning to his cold composure. She turned again to the window, and saw lights in the distance.

The quietness of the coach ceased, and loud chatters of various different ages directed their attention to the looming edifice.

"Is that it?" one said.

"It's bigger than I thought!"

"Look at the chimneys!"

She hastily grabbed her modest suitcase, and quickly re-did her bun. She sat there, staring, at the massive building which she held so much hope in, and slipped on her shoes.

As she stepped off the cold steps of the train, large crowds of children were being organized into their respective lines, Dance, Singing, Piano, Art, Technology, and on and on. She quickly made her way towards the dance line. The entrance was a large, gated building with several desks and kiosks at every line. They asked questions about where you came from, why you came here, and always in whatever language that person spoke.

As the line grew shorter, Nadia moved ahead, and the flower she had stuck in her hair fell out.

"Miss, you dropped your flower!" She heard a voice say behind her, deep and raspy. She turned to face the boy behind her.

"Here you go. May I ask your name?" He handed her flower to her, and for a brief moment, their hands touched. He was tall, and had a dark olive skin. He spoke in heavily accented Russian, she thought he was probably from Iberia. His hair was short, and light stubble covered his jaw. His green eyes glittered brilliantly in the sky, and his torso only partially covered by his jacket.

"Thank- thank you. Nadia, and you?" She hesitantly replied.

"Vasco. I hope we will be seeing each other often here."

Just then she heard the kiosk bell ring, and realized it was now her turn. She waved goodbye to her new acquaintance, and made her way.


"Nadia Valestova."

"Age!" The lady at the kiosk quickly jotted down the information on a form after each response.


"Place of Origin?"

"Smolensk, Soviet Union."


"Performing Arts."

The lady handed her a green slip, and a set of printed directions to her dormitory. She glanced at them, and then headed towards the door. The loud crowd of kids scrambling to locate their dorms drowned out most of the noise she could hear, but one thing stuck out to her. She could've sworn she heard a scream coming from beneath the floor.