#thearistocracy

[shroomishroomcatte]

SCP-004-A [OC]

(side note before you read everything at the bottom: it's 004-A instead of just 004 because I checked the wiki and like every scp slot already exists or is set aside for the wiki staff.) (btw fun fact this was originally going to be a wc npc creepypasta lmao but I decided I liked this better) (I would've also tried to put it on the wiki buttttt you have to be at least 18 to join and I am not. so.) (btw I know it's kinda tacky, that's intentional. anyways enjoy <3)

Item #: SCP-004-A

Object Class: Euclid Disruption Class: Ehki Risk Class: Warning

Special Containment Procedures: An instance of SCP-004-A can be dispatched by spilling a cup of coffee. Upon the cup hitting the ground, the anomaly will burst into tears. The tears must not be allowed to touch any humans. Affected individuals must be euthanized at once before the psychosis spreads. SCP-004-A itself must be kept in a small room, about 3.1x3.1 meters. It requires a small pool of water and about 2-3 venus flytrap plants, with the humidity of the room being ~60%. The room should be kept between 10-16 degrees Celsius, and flies should be released in regularly to feed the flytraps. An iced latte must be placed just inside of the enclosure at 9:00 AM, and then removed at 10:00 PM every day.

Description: SCP-004-A is above average in size, standing at approximately 1.8 meters, and weighing around 70 kilograms. The anomaly has nicknamed itself "Death Mocha", with just "Mocha" for short. It resembles an anthropomorphic cat of no specific breed, with its primary coloration being a muted brown, and its muzzle, belly, and paws are a hazel-ish beige color. It wears a sleeveless dark purple shirt, garter belt, shoe, and skirt, light purple arm warmers and a flower-shaped choker. It only has one shoe, on its left paw. On its right paw is a cream, blue, and pink striped arm warmer. On its tail is a blue spiked band, and it has a pink bow on her right ear, and an eyepatch on its right eye. Its left eye is green. SCP-004-A may try to offer you a coffee. Individuals are to politely decline. Drinking the coffee may induce psychosis, and turning it down rudely will cause the anomaly to become violent. SCP-004-A appears to be female, and speaks with a feminine voice as well. If SCP-004-A attempts to initiate conversation, DO NOT RESPOND. It may induce psychosis. Individuals inflicted with psychosis caused by SCP-004-A may begin hallucinating, insisting that they are talking to God, trying to eat small bugs, and intentionally drowning themself. It can spread from themselves to others simply by speaking to them. There is no cure but death, and death is merciful anyways, as individuals afflicted for long periods of time are shown to become catatonic. SCP-004-A exhibits a bubbly, optimistic personality, but is shown to be sadistic, and has been observed tearing apart the flytraps in its enclosure just for fun. It is self-righteous and believes that it is helping the world. The anomaly seems to have the ability to glean information about people simply by being around them, but the length of this ability is unknown.

Interview 004-A.1:

Interviewed: SCP-004-A Interviewer: Researcher ███████ <Begin Log> Researcher: Hello, SCP-004-A. You can call me ███████. I'm here to ask you a few questions today. SCP-004-A: Oh, ok! What do you wanna talk about, █████? Can I call you █████? Researcher: Hm. I suppose. Anyways, first question; What are your motives? SCP-004-A: Motives? Hah! That should be obvious. I'm just spreading truth. Clarity, I think that you people call it. Researcher: "You people?" Do you have a separate word for it? SCP-004-A: Well, the Gods call it something else! I can't make the sound though. It's reserved for Gods. Gods, gods! Mysterious creatures, they even speak their own language. They can teach us, they promised to teach me one day, after I reveal the truth after enough people. Researcher: Interesting. Can you elaborate more on these "Gods"? SCP-004-A: Oh, can I? Absolutely! I'm glad you're willing to learn. Yes, the gods created us, the world, and then put me and the others here to enlighten others! Researcher: The... others? Who are the "others"? SCP-004-A: The others in this facility, silly~! Researcher: Oh, the other SCPs? That makes sense. SCP-004-A: I knew that you'd understand! You're beginning to hear it too, yes? The Gods- talking to us! Researcher: ....Yeah..... You're right. I do hear them! SCP-004-A: Yay! Well, now that you hear them, it's your job, too, to begin spreading the truth. Researcher: Yes, I understand now. I'll go tell the other researchers! Thank you, SCP-004-A. SCP-004-A: Oh, please. No need to thank me. You can just call me Mocha, by the way. Researcher: Understood! Have a good day. <End of Interview>

Interview 004-A.2

Interviewed: SCP-004-A Interviewer: Researcher ███ <Begin Log> Researcher: Hello again, SCP- SCP-004-A: Call me Death Mocha, please. Or just Mocha if that's too long for you. Researcher: ...Alright, Mocha. Hello again. My name is ███. How are you? SCP-004-A: I don't want to hear it. Where's █████? I need to speak to █████! Researcher: █████ is unavailable right now. Please calm down. SCP-004-A: [huff] Fine. But when I find █████, you're going to have a big problem. Researcher: I'm sure I will. Now, I have a few questions for you. SCP-004-A: Ask away, then. Researcher: First off, it's been reported that you claim to be speaking to Gods. Can you elaborate on this a bit? SCP-004-A: I don't speak to the Gods, they speak to me. They tell me what to do and I follow their orders. It's simple. Researcher: And what do they sound like? SCP-004-A: I cannot say. I can understand their language, but I can't replicate it. It sounds like a bug's discarded body rotting, a Venus flytrap sinking into the depths of the sea, and a cat's little pink nose being carried away by the wind. Speaking of- [The anomaly produces a mug filled with an iced latte, seemingly out of thin air] -do you want a coffee? Researcher: No, but I appreciate the offer. I've already had my caffeine today. Now, how you described their language... it sounded very gruesome. SCP-004-A: At first glance, perhaps. But peace would be nothingness, as war is a flame and substance is spark. Peace is a water. Peace is a boot that stamps out the fire before it starts. Research: That didn't quite answer my question, but I think I sort of understood. So, to make sure we're being clear, you believe that peace is everything being the same? SCP-004-A: There may be an alternative, but it would be hard to maintain. Research: Interesting. This makes sense, somehow. Well, thank you for your time. SCP-004-A: Ah, yes, of course. I knew you'd understand. You seem... smart.

[screenteasers]

La Rvolution | Official Trailer | Netflix

[chrislebrane]

Happy 14th Anniversary to the album that started it all for me and my peeps: The Aristocracy self-titled debut. Witness our young faces!! #thearistocracy #selftitleddebut #orlandomusicscene #orlandomusic #powerfunk #funkrock #powertrio #dopeness #chaserichard #peterlutringer #chrislebrane https://www.instagram.com/p/CCOZdCBBPzE/?igshid=ypv53s10yo45

[chrislebrane]

Halloween WayBack Wednesday: Taken October 28, 2006, this particular show with The Aristocracy was also with Mysterioso and Swansinger. Met @joshjauz that night, got to live out a dream and it was 12 hours before a very colorful run in with the cops (long story). HAPPY HALLOWEEN! #halloween #waybackwednesday #2006 #thearistocracy #genesimmons #kiss #dopeness #chrislebrane https://www.instagram.com/p/BpmY9ngASXW/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=joszcbj1p2k5

[chrislebrane]

🔺THE SETUP🔺 #vinyl #vinylcollection #vinylislife #vinyldopeness #ikea #kallax #jvc #uturnaudio #orbit #akai #genesimmons #gasmask #thearistocracy #drumclock #simmonsdrums #moog #chrislebrane

[thelaurynpetrie]

"The Aristocrats" by Lauryn Petrie

Tonight Greg R.S. Uzelac invited me to tell my very own version of the legendary joke "The Aristocrats" at Catland in Brooklyn. I highly recommend this show, it’s going to be a monthly called “The Aristocracy” where a different comic gives their take on the classic joke at the end of every show. ————————————— Here’s a transcript of what I said: First of all, I'd like to say that telling this joke is an honor. I'd like to thank my Mother for destroying my self-esteem, and my Father for throwing me into freezing lake's while holding onto rocks to teach me how to swim, and all the boyfriend's I ever had that raped or beat me. Seriously, it's okay to laugh. But mot of all, I'd like to thank Chris Cornell for his suicide as it has inspired me, to make his death abut me. And to be a better artist, all around. Thank you, Chris, for inspiring me to take The spotlight of you as long as they'll allow me to be on stage. Now, I give you my version of “The Aristocrats”: It was a usual morning at the Trump household in the 1980's. Ivanka Trump awoke early as usual to clean her father's urine soaked third bedroom. This is where she got her "working Moms" work ethic she would brag about so much as an adult. Every Tuesday night after family dinner she would dutifully engage in the family tradition of strip teasing for her father so he could get it up to fuck her aging mother. As time went on this all became routine and she learned how to disassociate. To toughen his sons up he would have them "practice" by taking turns on the family great Dane. One after another filling the dog with their spoiled rich boy Cum as Ivanka stripped and Donald looked on as he tried to Fuck Ivanna. This became as routine as wiping his ass and bankruptcy. Fast forward to Inauguration Day. We all saw it. The open secret of Melanie’s abuse. The country being taken over by sith lords. But what we didn’t see, was the night of the inauguration. As Tuesdays in the Trump family had always been a tradition of incest, sucking, and fucking since Madonna was on the airwaves, none of that changed. What did change was that now they had secret service, members of the trilateral commission, members of the Bohemian Club, and men in black to join in. And did they ever. Since Melanie had recently tweeted something passive aggressive abut her husband, he made his anorexic and least favored daughter Tiffany throw up in Melanie’s mouth repeatedly- like a baby bird until he reached climax, at which point he would unlock the suitcase with the nuclear codes. pick a button, and cum all over it, secretly hoping that the force may be enough to ignite one of the missiles. Due to great advances in science in this year of our lord 2017, Trump is now able to achieve climax multiple times a night due to over the counter-dick pills which his poor family endures repeatedly every Tuesday. You may be asking yourself, "Why Tuesdays?" Well, the truth is, I have no fucking idea. It’s just what they do on fucking Tuesdays. Just like any other addiction, the need for more excitement grows over the years. Just R Kell-ing a girl with piss isn’t enough anymore. Watching his wife eat his daughter's vomit isn’t enough anymore. Watching his sons fuck the taxidermied corpses of wild animals from Africa, isn’t enough anymore. Occasionally, he would order Kelly Anne Conway on her knees in the oval office where she is gladly passed around like a cum bucket all in the name of job security. As if this wasn’t enough, he often makes Sean Spicer eat the cum out of Conway’s ass. "SUCK HARDER" Trump screams. His dick in one hand, a remote control aimed at FOX News in the other. Still, Trump's sexual appetites grew. Do you know the grave of the unknown soldier? Can anyone actually prove that there’s a body buried under that eternal flame? Well, earlier this month, Trump asked that same question. The formaldehyde filled corpse was dragged into a secret room under the Lincoln bedroom where he and other ex-republican presidents took turns skull fucking the cadaver until they were interrupted by Dancing With The Stars. (Which for some reason they are all huge fans of.) As soon the program ended, they all immediately went back to filling the cold, rotting body full of their warm presidential seed. Laughing, the next day - they took away our health care and dreamt of how many other even more meaningless corpses they could fuck in the future together. In 2018, after a culmination of police brutality, the pharmaceutical companies raping America, and general civil unrest, a fall out "storm the bastille" style attack was launched on the white house As America collapsed into civil war, Trump, using all the brains in his head, nuked his own country to: And I quote: "Threaten all those peasants with swords." Then, like clockwork, Tuesday night rolled around. And in the trump family, a tradition is a tradition. It doesn’t matter if you have to do deals with the mob and bury bodies in the cement of your towers. It doesn’t matter who you have to lie about or what handicapped people you need to make fun of. When Tuesday comes around, it’s “Scat and Incest night” TRADITION. As part of the white house fell off burning into a smoldering pile of rubble, the Trump’s began their Tuesday night tradition. Tiffany assumed the position and promptly began vomiting into Melania’s cold Botoxed mouth. The boys began fucking taxidermied endangered animals, as Ivanka FINALLY sucked her father’a cock, knowing that this was probably the end. Being a working Mom her whole life, (even from jobs she could never be fired from) she knew how important it was to finish the job. Unfortunately, Trump’s dick pills had been destroyed in the fire. As helicopters landed behind them shooting innocent civilians, his dick grew harder. He then told his youngest son to stand in front of him. One hand on his throbbing member, the other on a commemorative pistol. (The one rumored to have been given to Nixon from Elvis.) Knowing that this was probably the the end of his legacy, and that he had lost. With the radiation seeping into his already deranged skull, he shot his autistic son right in the forehead. Somehow, the boy fell over but didn’t die. Amazed, Trump’s hard on went down. His son, bleeding profusely, pulled down his pants, revealing that he still wore diapers. Melanie took a moment from swallowing Tiffany's vomit to gasp at the faux pas. Barron, having what seemed to be a moment of clarity, began to pull his diaper off. He grabbed handful after handful of his own shit and began to massage it gingerly into Ivanka's hair as she tried to get her father hard again with a sad blowjob. As they fucked and sucked each other to exhaustion, Trump began shooting his family members one by one. Suddenly, out of the rubble, Stephen Colbert burst up, covered in blood and dirt. He looked on, with a tear rolling down his vomit soaked shirt, he realized that there was nothing he could do. COLBERT: “STOP! WHY ARE YOU KILLING THEM? I MEAN, YOU'RE ALL HORRIBLE BUT LOOK HOW MUCH CUM YOU TAKE FOR EACH OTHER. My god...you're worse than I ever imagined...YOU'RE THE ARISTOCRATS.!" Then Trump promptly shot him in the forehead. He then took another shot at Barron. This time the boy was definitely dead. Trump looked down, with what could almost be construed as a look of guilt. He then turned to his two grown sons and said: "You know what this means." "Yes, Father" they responded dutifully. They then began fucking Barron's head wound, as the city continued to burn. The end.