It is a new day for Julia Argent.

She is starting a new job. A new, very secret job. And, as she stands in front of what, to any passerby, looks like an abandonned bouthouse, built before the rivers dried and this boom city because a ghost town, part of her worries that she has misremembered the detailed instructions for navigating the labyrinth that lies within heavy doors with rusted locks. She could take a wrong turn and be trapped within those hallowed halls for the rest of her days, with no escape from the trap or the screams. Besides death, that is.

As she pops open the ancient lock and slides behind the heavy doors, she reflects on this insecurity, of her memories and of her mind, in an attempt to calm herself. She often finds herself possessed with the notion that her memory is poor, despite the fact that she could not remember ever forgetting something in a particularly significant or inexcusable way.

She does not remember because what she has forgotten, she has not been pressed to recall. Because it is easier, and safer, if those memories stayed buried. For herself. For the world.

She does not remember being eight years old, in the woods where she was warned never to go, watching their friend bled out by a creature she did not recognize but reeked of fear. She does not remember her friend kicking, screaming, and punching at the great beast before his resistence faltered and his eyes slid shut. She does not remember her own screaming as the beast turned on her, its cold and unfamiliar grip, her heart beating faster at her helplessness at being weak and utterly alone. She does not remember the gunshots behind her, and she does not remember being pulled from that chilling grasp by hands much larger that her own, but still warm and presumably human. She does not remember the hours of interrogation by people in official looking outfits, exasperated by their own hysterical demeanor at what they had witnessed. They do not remember being finally restrained and poked with something long and sharp. They do remember waking up in their bed the next day, but to them it was a normal day, with no memory of the hours before. She does not remember her friend.

She does not remember being fifteen, hanging out with friends from school and stumbling upon a strange mall. She does not remember stumbling through corridors piled high with furniture, frozen meatballs becoming warm in her hand, stomach sinking and feet sore as she looked for the exit. She does not remember being split up from her friends while being pursued in the darkness by strange monsters with no faces. She does not remember taking the hand of a stranger much older than her and being pulled into a new area, one less like a store aisle and more like a city. She does not remember weeks spent in that place, mourning her lost companions and strengthening connections with new allies. she does not remember first kisses and new experiences in that strange place, the result of desperate souls frantic to do whatever they can in a place where their days are numbered. She does not remember beckoning towards unfamiliar people one morning, believing them to be lost just as she was a mere month ago, only to realize that they did not wish to seek a new home in the labyrinth, but to take her from it. They do not remember pleading with them to not leave their friends behind, only to be refused that service. They do not remember how they felt at knowing they were leaving their allies to die in that place because they were not given the privilege of remembering the strange store with its faceless creatures and other people like them, lost and scared and alone. As far as they were concerned, they spent a month studying abroad in France.

They do not remember what did not exist. she does not remember seeing it with its dimensions and interactions with her senses. They do not remember being told by official-looking people in lab coats and suits what this could mean for them. They do not remember their confusion and their fright at realizing the implications of their memory of such a thing. They do not remember eagerly taking the pill that would wipe their memory. It was in sharp contrast with how they acted before, but she did not remember all the times before. They do not remember the dullness that overtook their senses and returning to a time that, to them, was uninterrupted by creatures that must not have existed.

But to them, they never forgot any of these things because they did not happen. And they were not supposed to know. No one ever reminded them.

It is up for debate, as she travels down twisting hallways, guided by well-remembered instructions they were told to burn, whether what Julia Argent is about to see will remind her of the truth.

of what she forgot.

of who she lost.

of what she is truly capable of.

It is a new day foe Julia argent. But the secrets that are harbored in her mind, just beyond where she can reach them, are as old as time.

Scp-3008

I wonder how he'll get out...

can we find you in any particular level?

" You can find me in any shop floor,,, I work as a janitor in ALL of them,, "

Okay so scp 3008 is an ikea that is infinite in size and contains typical ikea stuff, like chairs. But does It have infinite blåhaj? Can we find a way to mine this place for infinite blåhaj?

YOU GUYS I GOT A BLAHAJ

I also saw purplish astronaut rabbit plushie named aftonsparkav or something like that lol

I love ikea so much i might cry 🥹

Yeah, the infinite Ikea is real. Yeah, we're trapped in SCP-3008 with no foreseeable escape.

But look on the bright side: infinite pile of Blåhaj!!!

SCP-3008, but instead of an infinite Ikea, it's an infinite Spirit Halloween. Think of it. Weapons and masks to shield your face and protect yourself. Fog machines to hide you from the workers and if you don't get out quick enough, you're there for a year until you find a way out next Halloween.

having your self-made campaign will always be my go-to because then I'm in charge of all the bullshit just had players walk into a building that's basically tavern version of the scp Infinite Ikea

Hi, May I suggest SCP-5212 & SCP-524 as animal crossing villagers?

SCP Foundation X Animal Crossing Part 8

Fun fact: I got this ask on my birthday. My birthday is in April 😳

SCP 5212 looks like an all white rabbit and since there already a villager who looks like that I didn't draw it. BTW I have that villager on my island (it's Ruby and she's adorable).

I also visited Ikea recently so I had to make those SCP 3008 villagers

I made this at 4am lol and it took alot more work then i wanna say also shout out to @barbieboooze for helping me build the base

Twilight and her friends find themselves trapped in a... furniture store? They find food laying around and explore their surroundings.

"Have you found anything to help us get back?"

"Not yet, sugarcube."

I love the 3008 roblox game so much

shoutout to that time a reddior stole my infinite ikea meme and had the audacity to get more interaction than me

if you've ever seen that meme abt the world's largest ikea opening in the philippines with the "the WHAT" image hi yes that was my doing

the og is somewhere in my SCP pinterest board

SCP - 3008 - 2

"The Staff"

Imagine getting slapped by those grabbers

consider - 682-B paying a visit to A Perfectly Normal, Regular Old IKEA aka SCP 3008

Now I'm thinking that he wandered in once and got assaulted by the Staff. he kept trying to avoid hurting them but after a while he kinda gave up and started killing them each with one punch. He can eat them but they taste awful due to being mostly skin on-death.

Then he found some humans and helped them out. Defends human settlements in the IKEA from staff, and begrudgingly acts as a garbage disposal for the bodies. He adapts some kind of advanced echolocation/radar and eventually finds an exit for everyone. It's an exit into the wrong universe though, in which he goes "Aw, fiddlesticks", and then it's a whole story about him trying to get back home to his own world with a pack of equally lost and confused humans.

I like that while there's the horrific reality of 682 always surviving whatever's thrown at it, there's then the comforting assurance that when Styx encounters a hostile anomaly he will always adapt and survive his way out of it, too. Doesn't mean he can save all the people he comes across though, which adds a tragic element to his existence. A superman who can mostly only save himself, but every now and then manages to make someone's life better.

maybe using the IKEA as a nexus is how he can meet canon 682 in the first place? I'm still not 100% sure on whether -B is just another member of the species, or literally 682 from a distinct universe. I'm not sure if, for eldritch, inter-dimensional beings, there's even a difference.

I have been having dreams where I am in a combination Costco, Home Depot, Walmart, IKEA, Fred Meyer, and Hobby Lobby of all places; and this store has EVERYTHING you would ever need for ANYTHING.

Somewhat like the Infinite IKEA SCP, but an amalgamation of places I have had to work at and have shopped at combined with the Infinite IKEA.

And in these dreams, I frequently enter the back rooms and the back aisles; the shopping aisles in the back of the store, where god-fearing customers dare not shop and employees dare not tread. A place where even the most shrewd and bravest of Karens dares not set foot. Where monsters roam the aisles and the overhead lights struggle to work. Where small settlements are made on the topmost shelves to keep away from the worst of the monsters. A land where PvP is in effect, and the monsters subsist upon the fallen, the foolish, and the slain. Where plants grow from the ground, shelves, walls, and even the ceiling, like something out of the first part of Portal 2, except with more plant variety than just potatoes. Shelving stockers back here are malfunctioning robots; hulking forklift droids with many arms to stock the shelves, often missing entire products, placing things in the wrong aisles, and even stocking fresh things that were discontinued years ago. How those products pop up there, I have no idea... The monsters that roam these aisles are without form or substance, at least not to me, the dreamer, they were simply monsters from the id. Phantasms that are gone in my waking hours, but haunt me in my sleep. They have learned to stay away from the forklift stocker droids due to being evenly matched.

In my attempts to traverse these lands in my slumber, I always manage to stumble out of them into the normal shopping center. Usually where clay pots and fountains are sold near the registers, or the lumberyard where trucks pull in, or even the garden center; all well illuminated by the sun. The back aisles, however, are dark and grim with a constant air of danger.

I am both excited, and am dreading to see what comes next for when I go back to sleep. If I do not perish, be it in the somnatic lands of the back aisles or that of the waking world, I shall update you all on what I encounter back there... assuming I can return to those forbidden shopping aisles...